#like yeah would i have preferred if they directly brought up his own trauma??? of course

[ilkkawhat]

10.06 Death and the Maiden

[voiceswithoutlips]

Calico - Chapter Two

— pairing: Hybrid ot7 x Human Reader (Female) — genre: hybrid AU , fluff, angst, slow burn (like real slow), eventual smut — word count: 2K — Rating: M — warnings: trauma, mention of past abuse.

Click for Tag List

— chapter summary:

Y/N runs a animal shelter, Calico was built on a simple principle, to help those who were in need. What will Y/N do when her sanctuary is threatened by an unexpected hybrid?

— A/N: This is going to be a series, I’m just getting back to writing, so I’d really appreciate your input and feedback <3

Ch. 1  Ch. 3  Ch. 3.5 Ch. 4 Ch. 5 Ch. 6

I stumbled out of bed with a groan, it was almost noon and my hangover was killing me. Last night I was too stressed so I drowned my worries in a bottle of whisky. Why was adulting so annoying, ugh. The house was quiet, Jason had probably already gone to the shelter. I made my way to the kitchen, my zombie brain screaming for coffee. I like my coffee black and bitter, just like my soul. Kidding, I don’t have a soul. 

My phone rang somewhere in the living room. The place looked like a tornado had torn through it. The floor was covered with papers and cushions and clothes and other unidentifiable mess. What the fuck happened last night? By the time I found my phone the ringing had stopped. 28 missed calls from Jason and 2% battery ...great.  

I made my way to the exam room, the most likely place for Jason to be. It was just a five minute walk from the house. I was in my pajamas, my hair sticking out and the coffee cup in my hand. It was Sunday, I was grumpy.

There was a half-naked man sitting on the exam table, no not a man, a hybrid. His white fluffy tail was droopy. Long white ears poked from his long black hair, he desperately needed a haircut. His ears were limp on his back. There was a hole in his left ear, it was properly done but too big for a piercing. My eyes widened with realization, I’d seen that before on cattle, his previous owners must’ve tagged him. 

The hybrid showed no reaction as I went to stand beside Jason, and directly in front of him. His upper body was muscular, he had a thick neck and washboard abs. He was gorgeous. He had a strong jawline, cute eyes and a small nose. The combination of cute and sexy was deadly. His hands were clasped together and he was hunched over, trying to make himself look small, not an easy feat to achieve.  

“Y/N, this is Jungkook,” Jason introduced the hybrid. The bunny stiffened, he didn’t raise his head to look at me. What do I do? I wasn’t good with people, I preferred animals to humans.  

“Hello, I’m Y/N,” I greeted. He was sitting so still that you would think he wasn’t even there. Was he even breathing? He was still looking down. 

I looked at Jason, I didn’t know what to do. “I found him near the hatch this morning so I brought him in for a checkup.” I nodded. 

“Are you hungry? I’m practically starving!” I asked, extending a tentative hand towards the bunny, palm up. He flinched.  I kept my hand where it was. I would stand here for hours if I had to. My stubbornness knew no bounds. Minutes passed slowly, Jason was leaning on the counter perfectly at ease, he was a good actor. 

Slowly Jungkook took my hand. “Let’s go have breakfast,” I whispered, a smile on my face as I slowly led him to the kitchen. Well kitchen was an overstatement, it was a small room with six refrigerators and two freezers, most of them contained medical supplies. A sad, overused coffee machine and a small stove for “Emergency Ramen”, it was our own special recipe. 

I opened the fridge with a “No Science Allowed” poster taped to its door. I pulled out a bunch of greens to make a salad, rabbits need their greens. We always stocked the fridge for humans and the animals. I wasn’t a particularly good cook, I could cook enough to not starve but that was the extent of my cooking skills. A quick chicken salad, eggs and toast and a bunch of pancakes and breakfast was served. 

Jungkook was still standing near the door where I had left him, eyes downcast, ears flopped. I was an idiot, a massive idiot, I assumed he would sit at the table on his own. Bad Y/N! 

“Jungkook, come sit with me,” I mentally hit myself, it sounded like a command, I was terrible at this. I was used to animals, you tell them what to do, you can’t ask a dog if he’d like to sit with you, but Jungkook was a person. I can be an animal therapist but humans? They were beyond me. I didn’t know how to get to him.  

He sat at the table. I pushed the food in front of him, expecting him to eat, another mistake. Hybrids are supposed to obey, they don't do things on their own. I was supposed to tell him what to do. I wanted to pound my head on the table. Stupid Y/N. 

“What would you like to eat?” I asked in the gentlest voice possible, at least I hoped it was gentle. 

 No response.  

“Go on this is all for you,” I tried to be encouraging. 

 Nothing.

 “Tell you what, if you finish your breakfast, I’ll give you a treat,” his ears twitched. He tentatively picked up a fork and started eating. His movements were small, he barely made any noise as he chewed but at least he was eating. 

I was still confuzzled, it is a word, a made up word, but then again all words are made up words. Confused and puzzled. I had no idea how to approach him, do I treat him like a human or a rabbit. The ‘treat’ card worked but will it work every time? He was taking small bites, I wondered if the food tasted bad. Maybe I forgot to add sugar to the pancakes? Did I forget to season the salad? I sighed internally. He needed a proper meal but sadly, Jason and I were terrible cooks. We lived on take-outs and ramen. Maybe it was time to learn how to cook.

I stood up, he froze. I had to get him used to people. I ignored his stiff posture as I walked to one of the freezers and pulled out a container that held my favorite ice cream. It was ‘ice cream for breakfast’ kind of day. I didn’t bother with bowls, two spoons and I was back in my seat. 

“You know this is my absolute favorite ice cream in the entire world. It's called Chocolate Brownie Fudge with Marshmallows. It's like a little piece of heaven in a plastic container,” I offered him a spoon. He looked at it as if it was going to bite him. “Go on, it's your treat!” I encouraged with a grin. It was meant to be a small smile but he was too cute and the ice cream made me happy. 

I dug into the ice cream as if my life depended on it. Jungkook watched me curiously, the spoon still in his hand. He hadn’t finished his breakfast but it was a start. For me, it was Sunday, the day where I threw caution to the wind and ate what I wanted. He hesitantly took a spoonful of ice cream, watching me as if I was going to pull the container away from him and tell him it was a joke. 

As soon as the spoon touched his tongue his eyes lit up like christmas. “Amazing isn’t it?” I asked, taking another bite. He nodded excitedly. Apparently he had a sweet tooth. I pushed the ice cream towards him and watched him devour the whole thing in minutes. God he was adorable!

I settled down on the couch in my office, I desperately needed a shower but that’d have to wait. Jason had taken Jungkook back to our house, he was going to stay in the guest room for the time being. It's not like I was going to put him in the hybrid shelter building, nobody deserved that and he couldn’t stay as a rabbit forever. 

I had a file in front of me, a file on Jungkook. All hybrids are installed with a microchip and registered in the hybrid database as soon as they are born ...or rather created in the labs. Hybrids couldn’t procreate, they were made in labs owned by big corporations. Jason had scanned Jungkooks microchip, the file contained everything about his life.

He was created in Corebear Tech’s lab and sold at the age of six to a wealthy family as a pet for their son. He was sent back to the company when he was twelve because he had grown too big for a rabbit hybrid. Corebear Tech then sold him to Apexi Pharmaceuticals and I guess that’s where Yonu found him.

I felt …I didn’t know what I felt. Maybe a sense of defeat. Jungkook was twenty-three, he was in that lab for eleven years. He was just one year younger than me. I was lost. I couldn’t even imagine what he must’ve gone through. There was no way I was going to let Apexi take him back. I called Song Hwa and gave her the file. After all we had evidence to collect and a case to build.

“Not this again!!” I ran through the front door as soon as I smelled smoke in our kitchen. Jason was standing in front of the stove fanning a pot with a newspaper. 

“I was cooking rice, I don’t know what happened,” he said opening the windows.

I took a peek, the rice was black, utterly totally burnt. “Jason …you’re supposed to add water to cook it…”

“Oh,” Jason loved to cook, the problem was he just couldn’t. I was 200% sure that he was cursed by some evil witch. The moment Jason tries to cook, all hell breaks loose.  

“You’re on clean-up duty,” I grumbled. At least it wasn’t that bad, the cake incident was still fresh in my mind. Once upon a time, when we still lived in our dorm, Jason decided to bake a cake …in a pressure cooker. Needless to say, it was a disaster. The cooker blew up, damaging half the kitchen. Thankfully no one was injured.

I softly knocked on the guestroom door. Jungkook had spent the whole day in his room, not that I blamed him. New place, new people, it was bound to be scary.

“Hey Jungkook, you want to come out for dinner?” I asked. I could deliver him ramen to his room if he wanted but I hoped he’d come out and eat with us. Yes, we were having ramen, Jason and I still lived as we had lived in our dorm, the only difference was our house was nicer and we had a garden.

Jungkook opened the door, he hadn’t locked it. He scrunched his nose as soon as he stepped out. The house was full of burnt smell from Jason’s cooking adventure. The smell must be stronger for him.

“Yeah, Jason tried to cook rice. Pro tip, never eat the food that Jason makes, he’s a terrible cook. Do you want to come eat with us?” I asked. I got a small nod in return.

“Let’s gooooo!! Do you like ramen? We have a really good recipe, well its nothing special, we just throw in some bacon and rice cakes and of course a fuckton of cheese,” I rambled as he followed me to the dining table. “You can never go wrong with cheese, unless you’re Jason,” Jason made protesting noises, I rolled my eyes at him.

Dinner was a bit awkward. Jason and I kept trying to make Jungkook talk but it didn’t work. The poor bunny hadn’t spoken a single word since he’d arrived at Calico. The only thing we got out of him were small nods and silence. I wondered if we should consult a therapist. He was human after all and he needed help.

I heard a sharp gasp from my left. Jungkook’s eyes were huge, he was frozen in his chair. He had accidently knocked the salt shaker off the table.

“I’m so..sorry. Please don’t punish me. I’ll do anything,” his voice was so small, it made my heart ache.

“Oh honey no!” I said as I held his hands. “It was an accident. You remember what I told you? This is a safe space, you’ll never be punished here. I won’t let anyone hurt you, okay?” I was mentally cursing myself for holding his hands on impulse. What if he didn’t like people invading his personal space? My worries were put to rest as he squeezed my hands.

“Okay,” he said in the smallest voice.

 Previous || Next

[crispychrissy]

Connected - Part 5

Summary: Y/N comes to and is met with a familiar face, and new things are found out about her past. Pairing: Eventual Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 3632 Warnings: Angst, medical stuff, sassy reader, fluff, A/N: School is in full swing for me so my frequency of posting is going to slow down, but it won't stop completely, I promise. I already have the next chapter laid out and will start writing it as soon as I get some spare time. :) You can also follow this story & others on my Ao3 as well. The series was beta’d by the lovely @idjitmonkey and I hope you enjoy! Please send me an ask if you would like to be tagged in the series. :)

Series Masterlist – Marvel Masterlist

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

The surface under your back felt nothing like the thin stained mattress you’d been sleeping on for weeks, and the light coming from the room beyond your closed eyes was way too bright to be the solitary light bulb hanging in the middle of your cell. Cautiously, you took stock of your body and wiggled your toes, fingers, and slightly shifted your arms and legs. There was a blanket over your body, one you’d never been granted during your captivity, and you immediately opened your eyes.

Which was something you immediately regretted. The bright fluorescent lights stung your eyes, making them water before you closed them again. A soft groan escaped your lips, and shuffling next to you made you freeze.

“Y/N?”

The voice was male, and vaguely familiar somehow? Slowly you blinked your eyes open, glaring at the bright light directly above your bed, before turning your head to the left where the voice came from. You were obviously in a hospital room, but the most shocking part of your change of scenery was the presence of Steve Rogers sitting in a plastic chair next to your bed, a kind smile on his lips.

“Can you understand me?” he asked, eyes studying your face.

“Yeah,” you rasped, coughing at the dryness in your throat you hadn’t registered until now.

Steve reached forward and grabbed a cup of water with a straw in it off a rolling table near the end of your bed and brought it to your lips as you managed to sit up. “Slow sips.”

“Yeah, thanks, mom,” you sassed before taking a sip of water. It took a second for what you had said to register, and your eyes widened before you sheepishly looked up at him while taking another drink and swallowing. “Sorry.”

“S’okay, I can handle some sass,” Steve said with a soft laugh. “Do you need more water?”

You shook your head and he placed the cup on the nightstand next to you, within your reach. “What happened? Did the Army send the Avengers to get me out of there?”

Steve frowned, but quickly schooled his expression with a soft shake of his head. “Not quite. What do you remember?”

When you reached for your memories, you hissed and squeezed your eyes closed, reaching up to clutch your head. “I can’t…” All of your memories were jumbled and seemed to be playing all at once, like hundreds of people trying to tell you a story at the same time. The only thing you did notice was a quiet area of stillness off to one side of your mind, the pain pushing you away each time you tried to focus on it. It was unsettling, and you turned to look at the man sitting next to you. “Captain Rogers… what happened? Where am I?”

“You’re in an Army base in Syria, you’re safe here. And please, call me Steve,” he told you with a smile before straightening in his chair. “I know your thoughts may be scattered, but what’s the last thing you remember?”

The throbbing in your head wasn’t as intense the second time around, and you managed to lock onto a memory of walking through a city surrounded by sand, a camera in your hands. It gave you a starting point, and you slowly followed the thread connecting that moment to the next. Steve was patient while you sorted through what you remembered, each knot of events in the thread becoming more difficult to untangle and get past. Almost ten minutes later, you looked up at him, tears blurring your vision.

“I remember taking pictures,” you said quietly, “but then I was… taken. These men thought I was with the Army trying to spy on them, tried to ransom me back. I told them I wasn’t… but they didn’t listen.” You swiped at your cheeks with the back of your hand, brushing the tears away. “They hurt me,” you looked down at the bandages on your arms, “and I kept… saying… something they didn’t like?”

“You did,” Steve confirmed, plucking a tissue from the box on the rolling table and passing it to you. “Do you remember what you said?”

Untangling the knot in this part of the thread took a few moments, and you were getting closer to that dark area, but the words rang loudly in your head and sent ice through your veins. “Oh my god, I said… Cap—er, Steve, I’m so sorry. Is that why you’re here? I don’t know him, I just… they wanted a soldier, so I kept saying the name of the strongest one I could think of.” Your eyes widened and you tried to backtrack. “I mean, I’m not saying you’re not strong or anything, but I was kinda delirious and I memorized his information back when I was in school and it was—”

“It’s okay, Y/N,” Steve interrupted you softly, trying to stifle his smile. “I didn’t take it personally. The Army didn’t find a connection between you and Bucky, and we figured you kept saying his name, rank, and service number like soldiers are trained to do when they’re under duress so you could get through the worst of it.”

You snorted. “After they started really torturing me, yeah, I said it because of that. At first, it was just out of snark to piss them off. They wanted a soldier, so I gave them one of the best I know.”

Steve laughed, shaking his head. “And I think Bucky will be kinda proud of that.” The color must have drained from your face, and Steve was instantly alert. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Is he here?” you blurted out, unsure if you were ready to know the answer, let alone what answer you’d prefer.

“He is,” Steve said, still alert but more waiting for your reaction rather than responding to your distress.

“Oh,” you whispered, picking at the fabric of the blanket on your lap. “Is… is he mad?”

Steve frowned, his eyebrows pinching together. You knew there had to be more of the story based on his expression, but you weren’t sure if you wanted to know what else happened. “Why would he be mad?”

“I used his information, his name… he was kidnapped, tortured, and brainwashed by Hydra for decades.” You scoffed, shaking your head. “I’m just a photographer that was at the wrong place at the wrong time and got taken for a few weeks. Not even close to what he went through.”

“Y/N,” Steve said softly, reaching out to gently place his hand over yours, stopping your fidgeting and making you look up at him, “Bucky’s glad he gave you strength when you were in need. There’s just… other things that happened.”

Dread settled over your mind like a frozen blanket. “What? What did I do?”

“Don’t jump ahead of yourself, just think back. What’s the last thing you remember?” Steve asked.

The further you tried to progress on the thread of memories, the closer you got to the dark area, and the harder the knots in the thread became to untangle. The memories were mostly of violence, knives and fists marring your skin narrated by whispered words of Sergeant Barnes’ name. The last knot in the thread before the dark area was an odd memory, and it filled you with a kind of unsettling warmth you’d never experienced before.

“I remember one of the men, he was... digging a knife into my leg, I remember it hurt so bad, felt like it was on fire. He was saying stuff to me, like how he wanted to,” you cleared your throat, “keep me as a pet soldier, like how Hydra had one. I don’t… my whole body felt like I had been electrocuted, everything was tingling and there was this flash of images in my head. Then I felt warm all over, and the last thing I remember before everything went black was grabbing the hilt of the knife where it was sticking out of my leg.” Your eyes widened in horror and you stared at Steve, tears blurring your vision. “What did I do? Please, I need to know.”

Steve scrubbed a hand down his face and sat back in his chair. “I’m not going to lie to you, Y/N. We, or at least some of the smartest people I know, think you may have somehow connected to Bucky… psychically. The trauma of being tortured and held prisoner might have activated a dormant mutant or enhanced ability.”

“What?” you whispered. “I’m… what?” The sheer thought of you having some kind of powers like that was ridiculous, and you had to force yourself to not laugh. “That makes no sense.”

“It took us a bit to figure out, but Dr. Austin thinks that because you were in a desperate situation, your abilities manifested to save your life, and allowed your mind to link to someone you’d been thinking about, regardless of distance.” Steve took a deep breath and exhaled slowly out of his nose. “A lot of the science and technical side of it is way beyond my range of understanding, but basically she thinks that since your power was new and born out of a survival instinct, it didn’t know when or even how to break the link between you and him. Bucky’s consciousness and memories, whether it was due to his own enhanced abilities or his previous trauma being so intense, began to take over your mind.”

“So… Sergeant Barnes… possessed me?” you asked. The explanation sounded plausible, however improbable, but seeing as how there were now space aliens and wizards on Earth, nothing really sounded impossible nowadays. “Is that why I have no memory until I woke up a few minutes ago? How long was I… how long did he have control over me?”

Steve raised his hands to calm you, obviously sensing or maybe even hearing your heartbeat begin to gallop wildly in your chest. “Bucky wasn’t controlling you, Y/N. He didn’t ‘possess you’,” Steve made air quotes with his fingers, “in the way you’re thinking. Your mind was suppressed and his mind was feeding you his memories only. You were experiencing them as if you were Bucky. He wasn’t controlling what you were doing; the similar reactions you had to things he’d experienced were due to those memories and the PTSD that came from them.”

You blinked a few times, your mouth slightly open. Theoretically it made sense, but it felt like Steve was describing some kind of science fiction movie to you, not explaining something that had happened to you. “I’m so confused.”

Steve chuckled. “Yeah, I was too. It’s a lot to take in. To simplify it and use Bucky’s words, you were essentially trapped in some kind of virtual reality in your mind, living out his past memories, and you couldn’t take off the headset. You have no memory of what occurred after you linked with Bucky because his memories were providing the knowledge you needed… your brain didn’t make its own.”

Even though Steve was doing a good job explaining things, you knew there had to be something he wasn’t telling you; you could always tell when people were dancing around a truth they were avoiding. You looked down at your lap and began to rub the blanket between your fingers again, ignoring how the fabric had begun to pill due to the friction. “Did I kill someone?”

Steve was silent for a few seconds before he heaved a heavy sigh. “Yes. The four men that were holding you captive. Based on how they were killed, we think you used information from Bucky’s memories and training to kill them.”

“I didn’t hurt anyone else, did I?” you asked quietly. While the idea of killing anyone made your stomach clench and sent bile rising in the back of your throat, your captors were far from innocent, and if it made you a bad person to not feel too much sympathy for those men, then so be it.

“No, not that we know of,” Steve said. “According to the Army rescue team that was sent to investigate the store—good thinking with the Morse code, by the way—they found you sitting calmly in the corner of the room you must have been kept in. Bucky seems to think that, if you were going off of his memories and instincts while he was the Winter Soldier, you were likely waiting for a Hydra extraction team. It’s what he would have done after the, uhhh, the targets were eliminated. Lieutenant Weasley, the leader of that Army rescue squad, said the moment he told you the mission was over, you dropped unconscious, just like how Bucky was conditioned to do as well.”

As Steve was talking, you were trying to reach into your mind, trying to pull anything from the dark spaces in your memories. Each time you tried, you were only met with a black canvas where memories should have been, throbbing in your head, and silence… no fragments or flashes of any kind of recollection of the events Steve was explaining. Ignoring the increasing pain behind your eyes, you tried to reach back further, and an odd flash of a memory you didn’t recognize assaulted your mind’s eye.

“Did you...” You stopped abruptly, eyebrows furrowing as you tried to make sense of what you just saw. “Did you used to feed stray cats on the fire escape of an apartment? One of the cats… an orange named Rusty? Named him after—”

“One of the guys that worked with Bucky down at the docks,” Steve finished for you, his voice light with disbelief. “How did you know that?”

You lifted your head and locked watery eyes on Steve. “I… don’t know.” You winced, grabbing your head, the throbbing and sharp pain starting to compound and intensify. “Ah, I can’t—”

“It’s okay,” Steve soothed as he stood up, helping you lie back down before pulling the blanket up to your chest, almost tucking you in. “Get some rest. Don’t hurt yourself trying to remember things, you’ll get there.”

The urge to fight being babied welled up in your body, but the mental strain and resulting exhaustion had finally caught up with you. You made a weak unhappy noise of protest, which Steve chuckled at, before you allowed yourself to drift off into a much more peaceful darkness than the one plaguing your memories.

***

Steve rejoined Bucky, Tony, and Dr. Austin in one of the conference rooms down the hallway from the doctor’s office, and rehashed what little information he’d gathered from his conversation with Y/N. The confusion and gaps in memories they expected, but when Steve mentioned her comment about the stray cat he used to feed, Bucky’s eyes went wide.

“That’s impossible,” Bucky breathed out, shaking his head and trying not to squeeze the life out of the leather chair he had his hands braced against. “That was back in… what, ‘38? A few years after your mom died? You and I were the only people living in that place, Steve. Even my ma didn’t know about those cats.”

“Well, Y/N was able to recall your memories and training in order to kill her captors, it makes sense that she might have seen or absorbed other memories at the same time without knowing.” Dr. Austin leaned her elbow against the conference table and rubbed her forehead. “The mental strain of Sergeant Barnes’ memories on top of these abilities being new to her… she might not know how to separate things, or her memories are jumbled with yours.”

“You said the link was broken, right, doc?” Tony asked, tapping away on one of his Stark tablets, murmuring things to FRIDAY once in a while under his breath. “Buckinator over here isn’t feeding our Sarah Connor any more memories?”

Bucky scowled and he winced when he heard the leather of the chair begin to rip under his metal fingertips. “I wasn’t sent to kill her, asshole,” he grumbled.

Tony looked at Bucky over the top of his tablet and blinked in disbelief. “Barnes got a pop culture reference. Did you all hear that? FRIDAY, make a note in my calendar. I think we need to petition Ellis for a new national holiday.”

“Tony,” Steve sighed, ignoring the subsequent rambling about press releases coming from Tony in favor of looking over at the doctor. “Dr. Austin, they aren’t linked anymore, right?”

“No, I confirmed with brain scans on both Y/N and Sergeant Barnes. Their level of brain activity is back to baseline, or at least, whatever baseline should be for a super soldier and a new psychic.” Dr. Austin pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, staring off in the distance.

Steve had seen this look before in both Tony and Bruce when they were trying to figure out something in their head, or trying to piece together clues, and knew it could last for a while. “Doctor?” Steve prodded her gently.

“Oh,” Dr. Austin said, starting slightly, giving Steve an embarrassed smile. “Sorry, I was just thinking… I have an acquaintance I may be able to reach out to. Psychic abilities and how to control them are quite out of my wheelhouse, medical studies can only get us so far. I worked with this professor and his team a few times in the past on classified projects when I was freelancing, and he might be able to offer some advice.”

“Anything that could help,” Steve said with a nod, his eyes tracking Dr. Austin as she excused herself from the room, her cell phone already in her hand. Steve looked over at Bucky, seeing the same defeated expression he’d worn on his face for months after he’d broken free of Hydra. “Buck, you gotta quit blaming yourself.”

“Why do people think doing or not doing something in their head is as easy as flipping a damn switch?” Bucky growled angrily, making Steve’s head jerk back at the sudden aggression. Bucky’s face relaxed and he grunted softly, dropping into the chair he was just squeezing. “Sorry.”

“S’okay, I get it,” Steve murmured, “it’s been a long day. How are you feeling anyways?”

“Physically? Fine. The hunger’s gone and I’m not exhausted anymore. Mentally?” Bucky snorted, ducking his chin. “How would you feel if someone accidentally linked minds with you and your brain made them relive you going into the ice over and over again? Or made them relive you getting sick a bunch when you were a kid?”

Steve sat down in the seat next to Bucky and sighed. “I would hate it, but it was an accident, Buck. Nothing you could have done to prevent it.”

“Doesn’t make him any less stupid for running into Y/N’s room alone like that,” Tony said, suddenly standing behind the two men. “You’re lucky I had my suit’s gauntlet wristwatch on me and pulled you back. Touching her could have killed you. Killed you both.”

Bucky knew it was a longshot, and the helplessness he felt knowing Y/N was stuck inside his memories spurred him into action. After being Hydra’s pawn for decades, he made a vow to never feel that helpless again if he could. “Yeah, well, it didn’t. I thought that if she was reliving my memories, then seeing me could snap her out of it. Like… waking her up from a nightmare.”

“Like a glitch in the Matrix. Smart,” Tony said the word like it physically pained him, “I guess.”

“Whether we agree about Bucky’s methods or not, it worked. The Army is going to want to debrief Y/N when she wakes up, but based on what I’ve gathered, she doesn’t have any memories of actually killing her captors. Her recollection ends moments after one of the guys stabbed her in the leg with a knife.”

“Probably the same guy who got the bladed uppercut that was found in the room she was being held in,” Bucky mused, recalling the photos in the file they were given. “Good riddance. Who knows what they would have done to her if she hadn’t killed them.”

The three men sat in silence for several long moments, each going over varying degrees of horrible scenarios which could have played out instead. Dr. Austin’s voice drifted in from the hallway, steadily getting louder as she approached the conference room again, drawing each of their attentions to the doorway.

“... thank you again, Charles. I’ll let you know the next time I’m back in New York,” she said with a smile before lowering her phone and tapping the screen to end the call. Dr. Austin raised a brow at the distressed and pensive looks spread across Tony, Steve, and Bucky’s faces, but decided not to ask.

“Any news from your friend, Doc?” Tony spoke up first.

“Yes,” Dr. Austin replied, tucking her cell phone into her white coat. “He confirmed that Y/N is in fact a mutant, but there’s something else.”

When Dr. Austin didn’t continue immediately, Tony flailed his arms up in the air. “Well? Were you pausing for dramatic effect or something?”

Dr. Austin rolled her eyes and ignored Tony’s outburst. “He was able to do a non-invasive read of her mind.” When all three men opened their mouths at once, Dr. Austin raised her hands, stopping them from whatever protests they were going to make. “Gentlemen, I assure you, the professor is an expert and powerful psychic himself, he knows what he’s doing. He told me that someone has manipulated her memories.”

Bucky blinked. “Well, yeah… isn’t that what happened when she accidentally linked with me? We already know this.”

“No, not recent memories,” Dr. Austin explained. “Her entire childhood has been wiped and rewritten.”

***

Connected Tags: @ginger-swag-rapunzel @that-one-gay-girl @fanofalltheficsx @joseyrw @lana-writes-04 @gia-25 @klanceiscannon14 @ahahafudge @genderfluid-ho

[bereniceteeth]

Q/Kyūsaku Yumeno with a motherly/older sibling figure headcannons –

_NOTE: feel free to inform me if I gendered Q, their gender is non-confirmed/androgynous (I also want the reader to be gender neutral so tell me if I went wrong there as well); also this is just a small headcannon thing so its not that good lol

_WARNING(S): implied self-harm, murder, and past abuse/trauma; confinement/imprisonment; sadistic mindsets; (notify me if I have missed any)

Having been a long-time friend of Kōyō Ozaki and having provided useful for the Port Mafia as a pair of eyes under the guise of an average citizen – a nursing student. Ōgai Mori decided to keep you around to treat wounded Mafia members.

Another reason why is because Elise had taken a liking to you.

Although becoming a nurse was never because you registered emotions unconventionally. You just cared, although always knew when to stay silent and mind your own business.

Perfect for deception, is it not?

Around a year into your Mafia endeavours when Mori assigned Koyo to oversee a young boy, Chūya Nakahara. Mori assigned you to oversee and be a child’s caretaker.

Dogra Magra, Kyūsaku Yumeno’s ability, required someone to hurt them to take control over their mind. Thus, Mori thought it fit for you to oversee them.

Little Kyū was only six then. They were more paranoid and confused, instead of sadistic and chaotic.

After learning that you were a nurse, Kyū would stay silent and obedient to whatever you said, heads hanging down. Their eyes would always light up when they saw something they wanted to play with or inspect, but they never dared act. However, whenever you were not around, they would be a normal child.

Of course, later when they began to trust you, he admitted to having a fear and dislike of hospitals. Thus, lead them to mistrust you when they found out you were a nurse.

Slowly, Kyū became more comfortable around you. Well, you did take him into your home.

You loved your days at home. Little Kyū frequently skipped around the house with their doll, talking to the bandaged doll with an adorable smile stitched into their face, lost in their imagination ❤️

When at work, they would usually be attached to your hip, clinging to your leg or hand. They would sit on your desk quietly with a blank look on their face and clutching their doll, if you were busy working, especially if someone else was in the room. If you were having a break, they would swing their legs and softly smile up at you. You two would draw together then often.

Poor baby would get kicked around at base if you were not around :(

Around two years after you took them into your care, they began to have frequent nightmares and panic more easily. Maybe finally letting their defensive walls down had resurfaced past trauma?

But the paranoid and emotional Kyū would only show themselves at home, or in the middle of the night when they would run into your room for comfort. However, at the base they became a lot more smiley. The uncomfortable kind of smiley.

This is when their sadism started to develop.

Although, they were never really like that around you, only to the people who would push you two around.

In the beginning, Kyū would be stuck to your side because they knew that lower ranking members would have to suffer getting no treatment for wounds, no matter how major or minor, if they wronged you. If they were higher ranking, then well, it would not take long for Kōyō to find out.

You tried to guide them away from having a sadistic mentality toward humanity.

In the end, they preferred chaos over peace.

They began to steal razor blades and barbed wire to tie around their arms. You should have known. They did not hold your hand or cling to your leg all day. You know them, you know this is how they get their way.

They had walked around base, letting people push them aside, bump into them, knock their doll out of their hands.

They triggered their ability later that day. Many casualties occurred. Many you could not help, even Mori came down to assist for a small while before he left with executive Osamu Dazai. Taking Kyū with him.

You were not allowed to see or talk to Kyū for days.

 “Mori, please-”

“That kid has to be confined. You’re too busy to keep an eye on them, or just too soft on them,” Dazai intervened firmly from your left. He was never a fan of Kyū, he hated the innocent performance they would play. Strange isn’t it? Dazai, of all people, hates Kyū’s sadism. Either way, because of this, he was not fond of your persistence to take care of them. Despite him being friends with Sakunosuke Oda, a kind man who took in five orphans. “Stick to staying quiet.”

“(L/n), I apologize, but were going to have to retain them within lockdown.” Mori established monotonously, glaring directly into your eyes. You knew better than to challenge them, no matter how much you wanted to.

Kyū already hated humanity, themself. They hated confinement, it reminded them of the hospital.

You just want to take them home.

 It had been three years before Kyū could leave their prison. You spent a great deal of your time with them in that room, you still essentially provided everything for them. You even stayed the night sometimes.

 You opened the heavy metal door leading into Kyū’s ‘room’, the screech of hinges made Kyū jolt awake. They gazed at you in the doorway and flopped back onto the pillow with a smile on his face. You chuckled as you shut the door, hearing the guard situated just outside the door lock it behind you. You sat at the foot of the paint and marker covered white bed, placing your hand softly on his leg underneath the blanket.

“Sorry I came so early; you can still sleep if you want.” You spoke tenderly. It was just past sunrise. Today was the day that Mori gave you a whole day off and allowed you to use your time to take Kyū back home. Only for the day, unfortunately.

“Why so early…” Kyū whined tiredly, turning on their side facing the wall opposite you and cuddled their battered doll closer.

“I’ve got a day off,” You smiled as you studied the various papers of pencil and marker drawings, displaying many gruesome scenes, some being scrawls of colour. You also saw what looked like a sketch of yourself peeking out from under the pile. “And for today… you can come home.”

They immediately shot up, mouth agape, breath getting heavier by the second. Their brown eyes lit up, their unique star and oval pupils sparkling. Tears. They let out a rocky breath and their arms began shaking.

“Home…?”

 The first day you got to bring them back home, Kyū pressed toward their room and stood in the doorway. You spent a good hour and a half comforting a sobbing Kyū, hugging them and their doll when they dropped on their knees.

Baby missed having a home :(

Once a month you would get to see Kyū for the whole day, you two would spend all day at home, they would smile and act like a normal child.

(expect the occasional comment about wanting to break and kill Dazai-)

 Although, they are still sadistic and have a deep love for chaos. It is only with you that they will be tame.

Kyū and you would have small clothing hauls, you cannot help but spoil them at home, their favourite item is the red circular sling bag with an animal’s face and the black coat.

You even brought little accessories for their doll.

BABY LOVES HUGS.

 You were lying contently on your living room lounge watching a crime show that played on the television, while taking glimpses at twelve-year-old Kyū drawing their doll in a sketchbook you brought them recently. They were not sketching as enthusiastically as they usually would, however.

They huffed and dropped the brown pencil, picked up their doll and abruptly flopped on top of you, lying down as well. You lifted an arm to pat their head and run your fingers through their black and white hair.

“You okay?”

“Yeah… I’m tired.” They muttered and groaned. “But I do not want to sleep, I’m tired without the sleepiness. You know?”

“That’s all good, you can stay there if you want.” You had a suspicion they were feeling depressed, which is anything new unfortunately. Home is the only place they have ever let their guard down.

You turn your head back toward the television screen, where the crime scene of a grotesque murder was displayed.

“That’s what I’m going to do to Mr. Dazai.”

“Kyūsaku you will nOT-”

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

(might do a part two as an actual oneshot, and better written lol)

[in-tua-deep]

Daemon AU? Yes PLEASE!

I will give u the pre-canon material exploring Five and his daemon’s relationship ;3c 

---

Pancha prefers small forms. Five never knows for certain why, and when he asks her she just tilts her head and shrugs at him because she doesn’t know what to say, either.

She likes being a hummingbird, flitting around Five’s head and hovering in front of his face before nesting in his hair. She likes being a mouse, scurrying up Five’s arm and tucking herself into the pocket on the front of his blazer.  She likes being a rabbit, feet thumping against the floor as she zoomed around the room at top speed.

Five never knows, or maybe just never vocalizes why the representation of his soul prefers to be small. 

But when Reginald Hargreeves gives him scathing performance reviews, his cane clicking against the floor in time with the soft clicking of Aryia’s claws as they look down their noses, as Five stands with his back straight and proud while - 

While Pancha curls up tight in his pocket, a mouse biting the end of her own tail so that she would not whimper aloud. They know then, even if they never voice it aloud. The reason that Pancha prefers to stay small.

---

The thing that people learn early is to watch daemons. Not directly, that would be rude, but to keep them in the corner of your eye and observe. Daemons are the representation of a person’s soul after all, and souls can’t lie. 

If someone is nervous, their daemon will shuffle anxiously. If someone is angry, their daemon will puff up in fury. When someone is scared, their daemon will cringe and cower. It’s easy to spot a liar in a world where the heart lays outside of the body.

Five’s very good at lying with his own body. He stands up straight and proud. He bares his teeth in furious smiles, licking blood from his lips and refusing to back down. He speaks loudly, with purpose, with challenge in his voice and in his words. Five is hard-headed. Five is disobedient. Five is an unruly little monster.

Pancha shifts into a hummingbird, because everyone knows hummingbirds flit around to keep aloft. It doesn’t look like nervous energy when it’s for a purpose. Pancha shifts into an australian tiger beetle, because they don’t have lips to draw back in wordless snarls. Pancha shifts into a gerbil and hides in Five’s pockets, because what you don’t see cannot betray you.

They call her adaptable, laugh when their siblings’ daemons begin to settle. They tolerate the speculation about who is going to settle next and what they will become.

They both dread the day Pancha will settle, even if they don’t say anything to one another. They don’t address the fact that she changes from one form to another, cycling through dozens within the space of a day even though their siblings stick to perhaps three. They don’t talk about the buzz under their skin that drives Pancha racing around their room at top speed until they crash on the bed panting together with something clawing desperately inside their soul. 

They don’t talk about a lot of things, but they don’t need to. They’re two halves of the same whole. 

---

Luther snaps at Five for cheating, for running ahead on a mission. They’re twelve, and Andromeda looks down on Pancha with something cold in her eyes and says, “Of course they can’t obey. They’re still unsettled.”

She says it like an insult, lip drawing back to show off too sharp teeth, says it like it’s something for Five to be ashamed of. Says it like what she’s really saying is that Five is a child. Like they aren’t all twelve-years-old and just settling into their own skins. 

She says it like it’s Five’s fault that Pancha can flit through forms like she can’t shed them fast enough. Even as Andromeda speaks, Pancha is a bat, is a wren, is landing on Five’s shoulder as a sugar glider, is curling around his neck as a ferret.

She says it like it’s his fault that he’s twelve-years-old and his daemon is unsettled. Like half the twelve-year-olds running around aren’t doing so with daemons just as unsettled as his. 

(Five read once, in a book, that trauma can make daemons settle earlier. There are so many cases of children as young as nine, seven, six with daemons tiny and scared and permanent.

The same book mentioned that abused children’s daemons often fell into one of two categories: large predators, to protect themselves and bare their teeth and intimidate any who try and hurt them. And the small ones, who are tiny and scared and do their best to be beneath notice.

Luther and Diego’s daemons are large, with teeth that can tear flesh and muscles beneath their skin.

Pancha likes to take small forms. Five doesn’t think about it too much.)

Five curls his lip and snarls back at Andromeda in a way that he never does when they’re in front of cameras, because etiquette says that people don’t talk to other people’s daemons, “If you weren’t so slow then maybe I wouldn’t have had to go in alone.”

Pancha shifts from a ferret to a squirrel to a kangaroo rat. The others are used to her rapid changes, but they also mean that they can’t pin down Five’s mood based on his daemon’s body language. She’s shifting too rapidly for that, clawing down his jacket as a hispid cotton mouse and settling into his arms as a pika, as a pygmy rabbit, as a stoat.

“Maybe I should hear a rumor about everyone calming down.” Allison threatens, her hands on her hips and tapping her foot impatiently. Amraphel is wrapped around her shoulders like a scarf, lazily flicking his tongue out.

(Allison has been of ill temper and short of patience ever since Raph settled a month ago. The whole house had heard her shouting about it, and none had dared to address it when they came down to dinner with Raph draped over the back of the chair instead of his customary place in Allison’s lap. 

Raph and Allison haven’t sat properly together since he settled, and no one talks about it.)

But Allison’s words settle Andromeda and Luther, both of them backing up in a way they wouldn’t for any other sibling. 

Pancha is a bush baby now, climbing up to Five’s shoulder and tugging lightly on the hair behind his ear. 

Five holds his hands behind his back and twists his fingers together to the point of pain.

“No need for that.” Pancha says, voice clear and level and almost haughty. “They’re only jealous they can’t be as adaptable as us.”

Luther snarls and lunges forward, only to be blocked by a bristling Andromeda. “They’re not worth it.” She growls, low and deep in her chest with flashes of white teeth. Luther and his daemon try so hard to be respectable, to be cool and aloof like their father and his daemon. It’s almost sad, really.

Pancha is a manipur bush rat, scurrying to Five’s other shoulder. Five untwists his hands from behind his back and reaches up to grab her when she shifts into a black jackrabbit. 

“Have you looked in a mirror lately?” Five says, with all his twelve-year-old wit, “Your face isn’t worth it.”

The black eye he sports for three weeks is, in fact, worth it.

---

Pancha is the last one left unsettled. It shouldn’t bother them, they don’t even really want Pancha to settle, but it does in some terrible inexplicable way.

Pancha flits between forms, and none of them feel right.

“We’re obviously going to be something that can jump properly.” Five muses, tapping a pencil against a little black notebook as he thinks. “You said the kangaroo mouse didn’t feel right?”

“Nothing will feel right until the moment we settle.” Pancha points out, flicking the tail of her current ginger-tabby-cat form back and forth, “Val was definitely a wolf a few times before she settled.”

“Yeah, well, I’m like 90% sure Val settled out of pure competitive spirit.” Five dismisses rolling his eyes. 

Valencia had settled two hours before Andromeda had, and has lorded it over the other daemon ever since. Diego still preens about how he was the first of the siblings to settle before even Luther.

(Five kind of wants to tell them both that Tamaya settled a week before Valencia and Andromeda both. No one noticed because Ben hadn’t brought it up, and Tamaya had always favored hiding to confrontation. Instead, Tamaya ‘officially’ settled around three days after their siblings.)

“I’m probably not going to be a big animal.” Pancha says, her claws pricking into his skin through his pajama top as she leans against his shoulder to peer at his list. “You can cross kangaroo off.”

“I thought you said you couldn’t be sure?” Five says, eyebrow raised.

Pancha just stares at him blankly. He stares back. Pancha shifts into a Florida king snake.

“Not having eyelids is cheating.” Five scowls, crossing his arms.

Pancha easily swaps into a possum, shaking out her fur. “It wasn’t cheating, it was adapting.” She tosses his words back in his face, “Besides. You thought I could be a kangaroo.”

Five grudgingly crosses an entry out. “Well why are you a possum now?”

Pancha shrugs as well as she can as a possum. “Dunno. It’s a marsupial or whatever, isn’t it? Besides, I’m sort of digging the fingerless gloves aesthetic.” She offers a foot out for Five to inspect.

“You look like you just climbed out of a trash can.” Five informs her.

“No, that was last night.” Pancha shoots back, shifting into a pine marten to crawl into Five’s lap and bat at his notebook. He just holds the notebook a little bit higher, making her huff in irritation. 

“Dad really needs to feed us more.”

Pancha nuzzles against Five’s stomach as comfortingly as she can, even though she can feel the slight pang of hunger gnawing at her belly as well as he can. Their power takes so much out of them sometimes, it’s difficult to justify taking more to a man who sees them as an experiment instead of a person.

“I could turn into a tiger and eat Aryia.” Pancha offers, shifting into an otter and making another grab for the notebook that Five easily avoids.

“You don’t like taking big forms.” Five dismisses easily, as though it’s nothing. As though it isn’t something they don’t discuss between them.

Pancha is silent for a few minutes, and even Five stops scribbling away as he waits for her response.

Finally she says, very carefully, “Just because I don’t like to, doesn’t mean I can’t.”

They both are silent after that, Five lowering his arms to curl around Pancha’s latest form in something just a little bit too loose to call a hug. 

“It’s safer.” Pancha whispers, breaking the silence between them, “I don’t know why, but it’s safer this way. Smaller daemons - they aren’t looked at as closely. When a tiger daemon bristles, people pay attention. When a mouse daemon bristles, no one even notices.”

“Is my soul really mouse shaped?” Five huffs a laugh, but they both know that he wouldn’t be disappointed in her being a mouse so much as he would her being trapped a mouse.

Pancha nudges at his chin with her broad muscular head, “Hey, don’t knock mice. They’re survivors. Practically anywhere you go, you’ll find mice. Inside, outside, they know how to get around.”

Five hums, dropping his notebook on the bed and bringing his hands up to run them through Pancha’s fur.

“Maybe we should be something with a beak.” Pancha whispers, knowing that Five will hear her no matter how softly she speaks. “No one bothers to look at bird daemon expressions, either.”

“Maybe you’ll be a swan, able to break someone’s arm and look pretty while doing it.” 

Pancha snorts, “Yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you. Vicious representation of our soul, that.” 

Instead of saying anything more, Pancha shifts from an otter into a meerkat. She curls into a tight little ball in Five’s lap.

“Not this one either, then?” Five says with a smile.

“Shut up.” Is Pancha’s intelligent response. “Next time you ask, I’m going to bite you.”

---

The moment they figure out what they can, theoretically, do, the buzzing under their skins gets louder than ever.

“Ask dad again, please.” Pancha begs, shifting from a budgie to a canary to a superb fairy wren as she flits about close to the ceiling of their room.

“You ask Aryia!” Five shoots back, bouncing lightly on the top of his bed even though it’s sort of childish. If anyone comes in though, he’ll just say he was trying to catch Pancha and they’d probably believe it.

Pancha turns into a magpie and immediately tries to divebomb Five in irritation, who stands there unimpressed and she’s forced to veer back towards the ceiling or crash into him. “You know she’s a mythic bitch!”

“And you think dad isn’t?” Five asks incredulously, bouncing a little more frantically.

“You don’t get lectures on how you’re -” Pancha flies to the floor and shifts into an impressive rendition of a marble fox identical to their father’s daemon, “Still unsettled Pancha, honestly, I expected better of you. Why can’t you be like the others, you’re so unruly and disheveled and I have no idea why dear old Reggie didn’t do away with you long ago -”

Five is cackling, his bouncing having come to a stop so he could slap a hand over his mouth to muffle his laughter at Pancha’s, frankly, spot on impression of their father’s daemon.

Pancha grins, shifting from a fox into a jack russell terrier and jumping on the bed with Five. “Spot on, wasn’t I?”

“Absolutely impeccable.” Five manages, sticking his nose haughtily in the air, “Why, I almost thought our dearest Aryia was in the room with us!”

Pancha nips at his heels, making him flop down onto the bed with her automatically. The shift in weight and position makes them both bounce a few times before they settle down. They’re still buzzing with energy though, even sitting still.

“I bet time travel would fix us.” Pancha says finally, voice strangely serious in the face of their previous jostling and cheer.

“We aren’t broken.” Five says equally seriously, watching as Pancha shifts into a grey collared chipmunk, then a harvest mouse, and then an antelope jackrabbit. She uses that form’s legs to launch herself from the bed to the desk across the room and back again. 

“There’s something wrong with us, Five.” Pancha corrects him fiercely, clawing up his arm as a pallid bat to his shoulder. “The others weren’t like this. We’re thirteen, now. Statistically, we should have settled by now. Or - or slowed down at least.”

Now she’s a margay, precariously balanced on his shoulder with her tail whipping into his face. Five brings up a hand to gently grasp at the twitching appendage, “The average is twelve to fourteen, technically.” He corrects her gently, “We practically just turned thirteen, we have time.”

Pancha hisses, hopping down off his shoulders in the form of a mongoose. “If we just - we have to try, Five. Can’t you feel it?”

Five bops her gently over the head, half scolding. “Of course I can, I’m you aren’t I?”

The buzz under their skin gets stronger by the day, and Pancha hasn’t been able to hold a form for longer than five or ten minutes in almost a year. It takes more effort not to jump than it does to actually jump, these days. Pancha shifts into a brush rabbit and levels him with an unimpressed look.

Five heaves a sigh, foot bouncing against the floorboards as though Pancha has transferred her nervous energy to him. “You know what dad’s gonna say, anyway.” He brings a hand to his chest and put on a nasally fancy tone, “Maybe we can revisit this topic when you’ve matured a bit, Number Five.”

Pancha gnashes her teeth together as a beaver. “You know what that’s code for.”

Five’s look is just as bitter as his daemon’s tone. He does know. Everyone knows. It’s a whole thing - people have weird ideas about what it means to settle. That it means, in some weird way, that it’s a transition into adulthood and responsibility.

How many hospital dramas and detective shows make it a point to draw attention to a child actor’s shifting daemon? How many true crime shows have grieving parents wailing about how the daughter or son wasn’t even settled yet, as though it might have been less of a tragedy if the kid’s daemon had been permanently stuck as a woodchuck. How many courtroom dramas have dismissed eyewitness testimony on the basis of the kid isn’t even settled yet.

Five and Pancha thinks it’s stupid, the emphasis put on settling. Thinks it’s dumb that he’s somehow considered less mature than a nine-year-old with a settled hedgehog daemon, even though he’s thirteen. But his age doesn’t matter. Just his daemon’s settled status. 

“What if time travel fixes us.” Pancha proposes again, fluttering over to the desk in the form of a cardinal. “What if it helps. What if it’s what we need to - ”

Settle, she doesn’t say. Because to settle is to know yourself, and they don’t even know they extent of their powers.

Five shakes his hands out, blue sparks flying down his wrists as he does so. Anything to try and get the buzz out from under his skin. 

“I’ll ask dad again tomorrow.” Five says finally, “And if he says no - ”

“Then we do it anyway.” Pancha is a coyote, lips pulled back in a wordless snarl before blue lightning runs down her form and she’s suddenly pressed against Five’s side.

“Then we do it anyway.” Five confirms, grim.

---

Time travel does not fix them.

Time travel breaks them.

They stand in the rubble of the end of the world, howling for their family with something that tastes like desperation on their lips, and no one answers. Dust swirls across the ground, glittering and gruesome as the smoke chokes the air from their lungs.

They claw through ruin until they find what they’re looking for, until Five shoves a piece of debris off of a face that belongs to a wrist with a black umbrella inked upon it, dark and final.

He finds Luther. He finds Allison, finds Diego, finds Klaus. He does not find their daemons.

Pancha is a falcon, is a racoon, is a wolf howling desperately into the crackling air, hoping, praying for an answer. But the only thing they hear are the quiet roar and crackles of the fires and their own footfalls.

It’s eerily quiet, at the end of the world. There’s no movie soundtrack, or screams, or howling winds. It’s just the pops of distant fires and the sound of rock across rock as their feet dislodge pieces of the wreckage.

“We can fix this.” Five says feverishly, “We have to go back.”

“It’s not working.” Pancha grits her teeth, pushing and pushing and pushing against the wall of their powers. It’s about as useful as trying to break down a brick wall with her shoulder.

“We’ll make it work.” Five vows, “We’ll go back. We’ll save them all.”

Pancha nods, equally grim and equally serious. 

“What we need,” Pancha says slowly, sounding out each word. She has Five’s full attention on her, “Is an equation.”

Math isn’t something they technically need anymore. It’s a crutch from their younger days, something that soothes them and calms them and helps them focus. They can jump without it, their brain doing most equations automatically.

But when they’d first been figuring out their limits on distance, when they’d first figured out the differences between jumping in water and jumping in air - they’d used math. When they were figuring out time travel was possible, they’d looked at the math.

“Okay.” Five says, breathy and small and scared, “Okay.”

---

They don’t figure out until a week in that the buzzing under their skin is - not gone, but lesser somehow. 

In their defense, they have a lot bigger things to worry about.

Five is scooping cold spaghetti-o’s directly into his mouth with a spoon he’d buffed against his shirt when he finally looks at Pancha and realizes that she’s been a barbary macaque for… hours now. She has a box of children’s sidewalk chalk by her side and is concentrating fiercely on writing while Five takes a break.

“Pancha - ” Five starts, and then finds himself at a loss for words when she looks up at him. 

“Hmm?” She asks absently, little monkey face still scrunched up in concentration. Five can’t help but wonder when the last time Pancha stayed in one form long enough for him to pick up proper expressions from her face.

“...Never mind.” Five says, and watches Pancha turn back to her work. 

They have more important things to worry about now anyway.

---

“This is a bad idea.” Pancha informs him, tongue lolling out the side of her mouth as she pants in the scorching heat. She’s a dingo today, has started experimenting with bigger and bigger forms.

(Five is seventeen-years-old. She still hasn’t settled.)

“We’re literally starving to death, Pan.” Five says dryly gripping bright packaging between thumb and forefinger like he would prefer not to be touching it himself, thanks. “Look, I definitely remember something about these things never going off.”

“That doesn’t sound right.” Pancha frowns, “But then again, I don’t know enough about twinkies to dispute it.”

They both look at the innocent little treat that Five has managed to unearth from inside of what looks like it used to be a child’s backpack. They don’t think about the child the backpack might have belonged to.

“Don’t those things have like, cream in them or something?” Pancha asks doubtfully, leaning forward to sniff the treat suspiciously, “Pretty sure anything with dairy in it went off like, years ago.”

“They’re like, 90% preservatives probably.” Five says, bringing it closer to his face so he can sniff it as well. “What do you think?”

“I think this is a terrible idea.” Pancha shrugs, which looks strange with a Dingo’s shoulders, “But then again, we are starving to death. Not sure we can afford to be picky.”

“We also can’t really afford to be sick.” Five points out sensibly. 

They both take another pause to consider the twinkie. 

“We’re so going to regret this.” Pancha sighs, laying down and putting her head on her paws. “But hey, if we die, we die.”

“We’re not going to die.” Five scolds her, peeling open the twinkie finally and giving it a distrustful look, “We totally aren’t going to regret this. Power of positive thinking, right?”

They absolutely regret it.

They don’t die, though.

---

The bright side of Pancha being unsettled is that she’s actually very useful in the apocalypse. She can take on the form of an elephant, acting as a one-daemon construction crew to clear out debris when they need a place to stay. She can run through the rubble as a mouse, squeezing through cracks in search of anything useful.

She takes the form of a chameleon, snagging insects from the air and offering them to Five when his skin starts looks paper thin and his ribs stick out prominently. 

Pancha lays in the body of a tiger, curled around her human to protect him from the cold nip of the night air. The weather is turning, and soon enough there will probably be snow on the ground.

“We’re twenty-one this year.” Pancha says quietly.

Five hums, fingers twisted into her fur. “Five more years and then we’ll have officially been here longer than we were there.” 

“Doesn’t matter how long it takes us.” Pancha says, squeezing her paws around his shoulders in warning, “We’re going to get back to them.”

Neither of them are sure they really believe it anymore, but oh how they want to.

They let the silence sit for a while between them before Five speaks up with a snort, “Not this one then?”

The question is almost an old joke at this point. Thirteen was a late bloomer. Sixteen was maybe-we-should-get-you-checked-out territory. Twenty-one was practically unheard of.

Pancha gives him a punishing lick with her sandpaper tongue over his forehead, making Five squawk with outrage. “Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to, idiot.”

“You know, calling me an idiot is really only calling yourself an idiot.” Five bites back, but they both know he���s not really offended. If he was, he wouldn’t still be cuddled into Pancha’s fur. Even their arguments are performative these days. 

“I can call you scruffy without offending myself, I suppose.” Pancha says dryly, “What is wrong with your face.”

“If you can find a good razor kit in the apocalypse then be my guest.” Five says grumpily, but he ruins it by nuzzling his face into Pancha’s chest fur making her huff with laughter.

Pancha squishes him closer, mindful of her big paws and powerful muscles. But even in this form - her hip bones are too prominent and her ribs can easily be felt through her fur. They’ll go out scavenging again tomorrow, but for tonight they can just… lay here. Bask in one another’s company. 

“Stop thinking so much.” Five draws his head back a little to sleepily scold his daemon, “You’re going to keep us both up.”

“Shut up then.” Pancha shoots back.

“Night, Pancha.” Five’s words are muffled against her fur, but she hears him loud and clear.

“Night, Five.” Pancha says softly.

---

Pancha hops tentatively through the first snow of the season, her white fur blending in well. “Five,” She says, not sure how she’s planning on following up.

“I know.” Five says quietly, reaching down to pick her up. She rubs her face under his chin comfortingly, feeling the scratch of his beard across her fur. “Happy birthday to us, I guess.”

“Twenty-six.” Pancha whispers.

“It was - it was 2019, right?” Five asks suddenly, “When the apocalypse happened?”

“April 1st, 2019.” Pancha confirms solemnly.

Five hums. “They’d have been, what, thirty?”

“It was still April.” Pancha corrects, shaking her head gently, “Our birthday is in October. They’d have still been twenty-nine.”

Five is very quiet for a long time, and Pancha keeps her own silence as they trudge through the wasteland. They’ve been doing a little better food-wise recently. They’ve discovered that while Five doesn’t get much out of Pancha eating, they get something out of it. She’s taken to wearing herbivorous forms and munching on grass and other plantlife where she can. The coming winter may make that trickier, though.

“If we go back before we hit thirty, we’d be about the same age.” Five says finally.

Pancha hums in agreement.

“But - ” Five hesitates, “We have to go back to, to before Ben dies, right?”

“They were what, sixteen?” Pancha taps at Five’s chest in a request to be put down, which he readily complies with. “Maybe we could get them out. Be the responsible adult.”

Five snorts, “Adopt our siblings?”

Pancha grins, “Hey, don’t tell me you wouldn’t enjoy the hell out of bossing Luther and Andromeda around.”

“We’ll see who’s the kid then.” Five chuckles before they both fall silent.

After all, Luther’s entire thing about Five being a brat was because - well. Pancha silently shifts into a husky with thick fur, coming over to nudge at Five’s leg as they walk side by side.

“We never really talked about what we’d do about - about me once we get back.” Pancha says carefully, warily.

They don’t need to change like they used to. Don’t shift between forms with the blink of an eye. They’re more solid now, Pancha tends to take a form for hours or entire days now unless she finds another form more useful to their current situation.

But they aren’t settled.

Five offers her a strained smile, “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

“Maybe if we get back, it’ll fix us.” Pancha offers, but her voice is soft and a little bit wistful. She doesn’t believe what she’s saying any more than Five does. They already travelled down that road before, and look where it got them.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” Five repeats firmly, before his face softens a little bit, “Happy birthday, Pancha.”

“Happy birthday, Five.”

---

“Do you remember how old we are now?” Five whispers, his hair and his beard have gotten streaked with grey. Pancha’s not exactly a spring chicken herself anymore, allowing Five to card his fingers through the feathers in her wing and straighten them out.

“Too old.” Pancha complains, “What’s the point in keeping track anyway? It’s not like we know what day it is.”

“We should probably keep track in general.” Five sounds amused, “Gotta remember how far to go back after all.”

“Fuck it.” Pancha declares, nipping at Five’s fingers when he’s a tad rough with a tender spot, “Just overshoot. Either we’ll pop out when the family are babies, and we can just steal everyone, or we don’t and bam we’re right on track.”

“You’re suddenly finding a motherly bone in your body, somewhere?” Five removes his hands from her wings to brush them off on his pants. Pancha gives them an experimental flap or two. “I, for one, could not be paid enough to deal with a baby Diego. Can you imagine?”

“He’d have fantastic aim when he’d throw his toys at you.” Pancha snickers.

“Can you imagine baby Allison?” Five demands, and they look at each other for a heartbeat before they both break down into laughter.

“Oh my god,” Pancha gasps, burying her face into her own wing, “Can you imagine what she’d rumor? Everyday would be Disney world day and she would be the prettiest princess of all.”

“Ruling the world with an iron fist and a sparkly tiara.” Five manages to get out, his own face buried in his hands as he wheezes.

“Klaus would be right next to her, tiara and all.”

“Fuck you’re right.” Five laughs, a deep belly laugh they neither of them hear very much these days, “There would be so much glitter.”

That statement makes Pancha dissolve into giggles again where she was just getting control of herself. 

“If we ever get back, I’m going to buy both of them the sparkliest tiaras available. No, wait. Gonna buy the whole family a bunch of those little kid birthday tiaras, and never explain why.” Five declares, grinning, “They’d be so confused.”

“When.” Pancha corrects, and the mood suddenly turns serious. “When we get back.”

Five doesn’t apologize, doesn’t sputter or claim it was just an error of speech. He just inclines his head a little bit and says, “Right. When we get back.”

---

They’re old and broken and creaky and tired when their endless days of bouncing math off of each other and testing at the boundary of the blue that stays frustratingly solid to them changes.

Five’s hair is entirely grey now, and his beard is long and scraggly where he hasn’t taken a knife to it in a while. 

Pancha is a european hare and she’s the one that first senses danger.

The thing about living in the apocalypse, is that it’s quiet. There’s no hum of electric lights. There’s no brawls between stray cats or dogs. There’s no squirrels or rats or mice scurrying around. 

So when Pancha’s sensitive ears pick up the sound of footsteps she feels such an intense sense of - of something that it makes Five drop his chalk and swing around to look at her with alarm.

She’s glad her form today is swift, because she’s across their little ‘camp’ in seconds and in his arms, clawing her way up to his shoulder to press her mouth to his ear, “There’s something out there.” She whispers, somehow terrified and she doesn’t know why.

To his credit, Five doesn’t even hesitate despite the impossibility of her words. He scoops her under one arm and turns and picks up the gun (they don’t talk about why they have a gun) with the other. He turns around and points it at - 

A woman. They both freeze like deer in headlights.

“Hello!” The woman calls, picking her way down the debris in high heeled shoes.

“Five.” Pancha swallows, making her human look at her, “Five, where’s her daemon.”

Five’s head whips back around, and they both stare. It’s entirely possible that the woman’s daemon is just small, just out of sight and out of mind. It’s even possible that she’s a witch, and her daemon is off gallivanting about.

But Pancha can feel a scream trapped behind her teeth, feel her ears go back as she fights the urge to run run run away from this terrifying woman who tastes of empty empty empty. Something is wrong. 

She can see the way Five’s fingers tremble as the sense of wrong wrong wrong reverberates through their bond. 

“Who the hell are you!” Five snarls out, and Pancha takes the opportunity to squirm and wriggle so that she’s balanced precariously on Five’s shoulder, freeing up his other hand to steady the gun.

“I’m here to help.” The woman says brightly, still picking her way towards them.

“Five.” Pancha whimpers, and as she feels her paws tremble she watches his hands go still and steady.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t just put a bullet through your head right now.” Five raises the gun further, but the woman doesn’t even hesitate. 

“Because,” The woman says, smiling a carefree smile as she adjusts her hat and pulls her sunglasses from her face. “Then you wouldn’t hear the offer I’m about to make you.”

Five and Pancha are more tense than they’ve ever been before in their lives, and considering some of their childhood missions - that’s saying a lot.

“Which would be rather tragic given your…” The woman looks around and even though she doesn’t look disgusted the implication is there anyway which makes them both bristle, “...Current circumstances. I work for an organization called the Commission. We are tasked with the preservation of the time continuum through manipulation and removals. 

“Why are you telling us this.” Five manages to grit out, never letting his gun drop.

The woman just looks at him like he’s a child and she’s disappointed he asked such an obvious question.

“I’ve come to offer you a job, Number Five.” She says simply. 

They don’t miss the way she only offered the job to him, not to Pancha. 

There’s a lot after that. The woman explains that she wants to hire him - them - to, to eliminate threats to time caused by humanity’s free will. She tells him that her organization has had their eye on him. That he has potential. That Five can retire with a pension plan for the low low price of his soul.

Well, he’s paraphrasing. 

She at least allows him a moment of privacy to discuss things with his daemon, telling him that she will be back in an hour to pick him up and that he should take the time to gather what possessions he wishes to take with him. She seems awfully confident he will take her deal.

“She doesn’t have a daemon.” Pancha shudders against him, “She’s so empty inside. She scares me, Five.”

“I know.” Five says, smoothing his hands over her fur comfortingly, “But - Pan, the chance to get out. If they know how to properly time travel - ”

“Then we can finally get out of here.” Pancha says softly, longingly. “It’s been so long, Five.”

“I know.” He whispers. 

“She wants us to kill for her.” Pancha tells him, “Removing the problems - she just wants us to become an assassin. She wants us to be a weapon.”

“Would we kill to get our siblings back?” Five asks, but it’s a rhetorical question. They both know that they’d probably let the world burn all over again if only it meant saving the people most important to them. 

“We’d have food.” Pancha offers finally, “If it’s a job, we’ll have money. No more scavenging. We could focus more time on, on - you know.”

Five nods solemnly, “So, do we take the job?”

A shudder ripples through Pancha’s body, “What about me, Five?”

“What about you?” Five asks, brow furrowing.

“I’m not normal.” Pancha states tightly, watching Five’s face light up in comprehension. It’s been a long time since they discussed Pancha’s ability to shift. After so many years, it almost seems normal. “She’s already seen me as a hare. So do I just - pretend to be a hare?”

Five bites his lip, “Just until we figure out how to get back.”

They both know that’s not a real answer. They both have no idea what they’re going to do when they show up, old and decrepit and still unsettled. 

“She can’t know.” Five says, because at least that much is certain. “She doesn’t have a daemon. She can’t know.”

Pancha sighs, but they both already know what their choice is going to be. “Okay. Okay let’s become assassins.”

---

They’re in a hotel room, and Pancha shifts a few times just to prove she can. She likes being a hare, but sometimes it just gets itchy. Wrong. Sometimes she needs wings, or fangs, or something. 

She feels like she needs fangs a lot around the Handler. Or like she needs to be something small, like a mouse and curl up in Five’s pockets again to hide away. Usually she just hides behind Five and lets him deal with the woman, which is perhaps unfair of her but Five hasn’t protested yet.

(Actually, Pancha doesn’t speak to anybody. Not after the doctor and his capuchin daemon looked entirely scandalized when she addressed him instead of his daemon. Apparently missing out on socialization for an estimated forty-five years led to… some not so great manners.)

Five methodically cleans his gun as Pancha shifts from a lion to a gazelle to a pallas cat and back into a hare to jump onto the bed with him. 

“Today?” She asks him.

He looks up at her and frowns, his hands pausing.

“Something feels different. More right.”

Five tilts his head a little bit in though and then nods. He’s been quiet, since they got back. When they’re alone together at least. The opposite of Pancha. Sometimes she wonders if they’re just switching off, the way they do when it comes to shows of emotion sometimes. 

Pancha crawls into his lap, nudging at his hands until they put the gun aside and bury themselves in her fur. 

“We’re going to save the world, Five.” She says, projecting as much confidence as she can into her voice, as much confidence as she can into him. “We’re going to save them all.”

Five’s hands tremble in her fur, and they both politely pretend that they don’t.

“You aren’t going to do this alone, because you have me. We’re a team.” She cranes her head back so she can offer him a smile, “Team Adaptable, right?”

“Right.” Five rasps out, touching the silver patches in her fur. 

And then they get up, and move out. They’re on a mission now.

[huearmy]

The Smell of Truth - IV

Summary: After years being forced to fight in clandestine hybrid ring, Jungkook is now living in shelter, but life remains bad, the place is abusive, and nobody seems to want adopt him. Until one night a pro-hybrid activist group invades the shelter, and a woman in black smelling like truth promises that things will get better, and he decides to follow her wherever she goes.

Pairing: pitbull!Jungkook x human!Reader

Genre: fluff, angst, future smut maybe.

Words: 4781

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Some violent nightmares, nothing too bad.

Chapter I  Chapter II  Chapter III - Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII

Jungkook was ready to fight.

After eating cake and tons of meat, taste coke for the first time and fall in love with it, you showed him another thing to love about his new life. Something exciting, entertaining and beautiful... He wasn't good at it at first, but seeing you doing it so well just motivated him to do better. Video games of course. All the sounds and colors made his eyes sparkle. The characters were so amazing too. You let him choose what game he wanted to try first, without much reference he didn't know where to start, using as a criterion the cover that most caught his attention and the little you said about each one. In the end he tested so many games that the order wasn't even important. 

You noticed that he avoided violent themes, like fight games, and he preferred the sports, adventure, or cute-looking ones. You came to that conclusion when you decided to show one of your favorites, Dead By Daylight, and before you could start a match he wanted to change to Plant vs. Zombie. At some point you both stopped by Mario Kart and that was the thing. One hour later Jungkook was better than you, throwing all the bananas on you, like losing wasn't an option to him. The bastard is competitive.

"AAaaaaah! nonononon noooooo!" You lose the control of your kart just before finish line as he passes you, crossing the line and winning for the sixth time in a row.

"Yeah!" He jumped from his spot on the floor, running circles arond the couch and you, who was also on the floor.

"That's not fair, half of an hour ago you didn't even know how the controls work..."

"Let's play again!" He seated beside you again, and then his ears perked up. "Can I eat more cake?"

He already ate almost half of the cake, and was clearly in a sugar rush. "Of course. The cake is yours."

With a happy squick he ran to the kitchen, sliding the new pair of white socks over the apartment's wooden floor. As you waited for hi to come back you once again searched your games, looking for any more he might like, and came to the conclusion that you have a very violent taste to games - you are a fervent Outlast fan, for example. You have never dealt with a hybrid so full of trauma so directly, let alone inside your home, so involved in your life, and despite having some sense of Jungkook's past, you don't know everything that torments him or how much, so making him one hundred percent comfortable in this new life is your plan. What you need is to pay more attention to the small details. And maybe you can start by letting him choose some lighter games himself in the online store.

Jungkook emerged from the kitchen, now walking slower, balancing two plates of cake in one hand, and a huge glass of coke, full to the top, in the other, taking care not to make a mess. Carefully he sat next to you again.

"I brought cake for you too." He gave you one plate and got ready for another round.

"Oh, that's sweet of you. Thanks." You played for another hour or so, Jungkook's victories proving that it was not beginner's luck but that he is indeed a fast learner. You were already more asleep than awake, as a result of bad nights and unregulated sleep in the last week, when he got tired of running and decided to change the game. "What is this about?" Jungkook asked, showing you another one. "Ah, is a remake of one of my childhood favorites. It's about a bandicoot who lives on an island in the south pacific, and a magic mask that flies around him, and has a big-headed villain. It's pretty fun." You yawned. "Let's play this one then." He excitedly stated. "Sorry, Jungkook. I'm really tired, and even if I'll work from home, I need to get up early tomorow... I'm going to bed now." You saw the disappointment in his eyes, his ears and tail falling, and added. "But you can keep playing without me." Jungkook looked around, clearly not so happy as before. "Ok. I will play another one that is not your favorite then. See you tomorrow?" He was pouting again, and you thought to yourself if you're going to be able to get used to it. Despite being upset, you could see that he didn't want to have a tantrum asking you to stay. "You are so cute." You said before you could stop yourself, pulling him by the hands for a hug. You rested you head on his chest and reasurely passed your hands on his back. You couldn't see right now, but the brightest smile settled in Jungkook's face. "See you in the morning. Sleep well, JK." "Sleep well, Y/N." _____________________________________________________________________________________ You took a fast shower, put yourself in comfy pijamas and dropped your tired body in the bed. In less than five minutes you were fast asleep. You are the type that has a heavy sleep, that doesn't wake up with anything, and if it happens it is not fully awake, easily coming back into slumber. Normally a lightning storm would not be enough to get you out of dreamland, quite the opposite, the thick rain hitting the window glass has always been like a lullaby. But for some reason, by two in the morning your sleep-pumping eyes were open and alert. Something was off.

You sit, checking your surroundings, listening. Everything seemed ordinary. You got up, looking for your phone, trying to remember where you left it last. You found it lying on the floor beside the bed, between your slippers, some social media notifications and messages that you didn't see before stamping the screen.

Opening one of the messages, a smile formed at the corners of your mouth, as you rubbed your swollen eyes. Still half asleep you played the audio massage, a male voice sounding low. "Hey sweetheart, I'm coming back already. If my flight doesn't delay, I'll be home in the late afternoon... Then I will see you before anything else ok! I'm missing you so fucking much it feels like dying... So..." Before you could finish hearing the message something else caught your attention. You were silent trying to hear again. A soft sound from the floor below. A cry. It brought you from the brink of slumber, zombie mode of yours, to full alert awake mode.

"Jungkook" You went to the door and, knowing the way even in the dark, did not even bother to turn on the lights in the corridor, or the stairs, to run to the hybrid who now lives with you. The closer you got, the more certain you were that the crying came from Jungkook's room, a tightness in your chest leaving you worried at every step without knowing what was happening.

You entered as quietly as you could, stepping inside on the tip of your feet, the room was lighter than the corridor you came from, because of the headlamp on. Jungkook was lying in the shape of a ball, his back to you, wearing silk pajamas that you bought him earlier, the cover lying on the floor indicating he was having restless sleep. He was crying, but still asleep, clutching the pillow as hard as if his life depended on it, his body shivering, from cold or stress, or both, you couldn't say. Regardless, the nightmare he was having must have been horrible. Sitting next to him on the bed next to him, you put your hand on his shoulder, shaking him lightly.

"Jungkook, wake up." As if your touch had burned him, Jungkook's eyes snapped open, his body reacting defensively before you could do anything. In a second his hand was around your wrist, holding tightly at a sore angle, making you gasp in pain. For a moment it seemed that even looking directly at you, he didn't recognize you.

"Jungkook, it's me. Y/N. You were having a nightmare, but is everything ok. You are ok." You softly said, ignoring the pain in your wrist he was still holding, and reaching your other hand to his face, brushing the hair away from his sweaty forehead. "You are ok, Jungkook." "Y/N..." His lips quivered, small voice barelly reached your ears. Jungkook is a pile of muscles, much taller than you, bigger in every way, but at that moment, with scared eyes full of tears... you never thought he was so small. "It's, ok." You whispered, afraid that if you spoke a little louder it might scare him. "I don't know where you were, or what was happening... But now you are home, safe."   

He blinked a couple times, looking around, recognizing his own new room, his things, the smell of the surroundings. His tense, ready to fight body, relaxed as his breathing was soothing. He finally noticed his tight hold hurting you, released you and more quickly he sat against the headboard, moving away from you and your touch. The boy's pale face acquired a feeling beyond fear... guilt.

"So- sorry..." He weakly apologized.

It is not the first time he has had this nightmare. It is always the same, sometimes with small differences, but in short it is a ring, metal screens closing all sides and the ceiling, with electric barriers and poles, that if he tries to escape or fall out by accident the injuries will be terrible, that if he doesn’t die by it. There’s a white light on him, as if it were a show and he was the star, but it’s a show of horrors, the fans screaming loudly, from the dark, asking for blood, dozens of men without face wanting someone to die in front of them. Jungkook experienced this so many times in real life, that in a dream it shouldn't be so scary, but here comes the worst part... He's losing, this time he's the one going to die today. While the other guy is sitting on top of him, giving blow after blow he can't defend himself, he looks back, looking for his owner. Jungkook's owner is sitting in a deck chair in the middle of the audience, watching the fight with his eyes without emotion, he is not happy, and Jungkook knows why: he has not been a good boy, he is no longer valuable, and doesn't bring tons of money anymore... So the owner won't help him, he won't find a way to stop the fight to save Jungkook, because it's not worth it. When Jungkook looks up again and faces his opponent it is his own face what he sees, like a mirror, violent and empty... He sees himself as the scariest hybrid in the world.

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to... Y/N I'm sorry." He started to sob, bringing his knees close to his chest, turning into a ball again, to look smaller and not threatening.

Carefully you risked approaching him again, placing your hand on his knee in an attempt to make some comforting contact, without being too invasive.

"Shhhh... No need to apologize now." Seeing that he didn't withdraw from you again, you finally took his face in your cold little hands. "How are you feeling?"

"What?" A tear ran down his cheekbone, wetting your hand.

"I want to know if you are ok, JK." You smiled softly. He hurting you it's not ok, even if by accident, but that's a subject for another moment, now the focus is on him only. He sighed, closing his eyes and letting himself relax at your touch, feeling the soft tips of your fingers drying his tears. He took a deep breath once, twice, three times before nodding.

"I'm. I just need to go to bathroom."

"Ok." You let him get up, his well-built body looking so fragile as he walked out of the room, disappearing into the dark corridor. You got up yourself, to fix the bedding, get it ready for when he returned.

Jungkook washed his face several times, trying to get the bad impression he could still see when looking in the mirror. "When you're scared, laugh in the face of fear, he won't take you seriously and then he'll leave you alone." The child's voice rang in Jungkook's mind, making him give a weak little smile when he thought that this silly psychology has kept his sanity for years. He wiped his face with a soft towel, and then looking at himself in the mirror he made a funny face. And then another ... And one more. One funny face after another until he feels like smiling for real.

Your happy bathroom, with a nice scent of soap and cute plants, also helped a lot. The urge to cry went away much easier than at any time in Jungkook's old life.

Not really in the mood of trying to sleep again, he dragged himself back to the room, feeling the weight of the world on his legs, considering returning to playing video games and staying up all night... He saw you still on his bed, waiting for him, and stopped by the door, surprised.

"You still here..." You were zoning out, due to his delay in returning. His voice - now more peaceful - put a smile of relief in your distracted face.

"Do you want me to stay with you till you fall asleep again?" You suggested. Jungkook felt something in his chest, almost like a heartache, warm, when he heard that question.

"You don't need to..." He spoke before he could stop himself, regretting immediately, because it wasn't what he wanted to answer.

You left a warm laugh scape your lips.

"That's not what I asked, JK. Do you want me to stay?"

"Yes." You caring for him like this is like a dream to him, so, afraid of making a mistake that would make this moment end, he camly walked to you, lying on the spot you were invitingly tapping beside you, almost with his head on your lap. Almost... You covered him, taking care to wrap every inch of him with the blanket, to keep him warm, as you would do to a child, or at least, how you like to sleep when it's cold, like a comfy burrito. He felt loved. A few minutes went by, you patiently petting his hair. When you thought he would have fallen asleep, Jungkook opened his eyes to look at you thoughtfully.

"Y/N..." His voice was already sleepy.

"Hum?"

"Why aren't you afraid of me?" It's not like you're not expecting such conversation to happen sometime in the future, but at that moment the question took you by surprise.

"What do you mean, Jungkook?"

Jungkook had a hard time finding the right words. He didn't expect you to respond with another question, he wanted you to answer more objectively. A line of frustration formed between the boy's eyebrows as he thought hard on it. You just kept petting him, waiting for him to elaborate his thoughts. "I don't... know. Everybody does... I'm a pitbull and I was a fight dog... I've done so many bad and scary things, so everybody is afraid of me. The people that didn't want to adopt me, the employees of the shelter who beat me, even the doctor who saw me... She was so sweet to me, but she always saw me with a security guard in the room. Even my former owner was always armed when he came to talk to me..." He was frustrated and agitated when speaking. "He always told me that being a fighter is the only thing I good at... That I'm good at being violent. So why aren't you afraid?"

He could sense you getting dark feelings as he spoke. You were pissed, just thinking about what they did to his head made you want to punch someone. Making Jungkook think he deserves to be feared instead of being loved, pampered and adored every day of his life is unforgivable.

"First of all... Get ready because I'm going to give a speech here. Second: it is a protocol, standard procedure, to have support staff when treating new hybrids, especially when they have a history of abuse. It's not because the doctor was afraid of you, it's because she wanted to take good care of you." You paused for a breath, taking care not to be too harsh when speaking and it looked like you were scolding him, which was nowhere near your intention. You sighed and pulled a lock of hair out of his eyes. "Jungkook, you can't believe in any word your former owner told you. If he was always armed when he came to talk to you, it wasn't because he was afraid of you, it was because he wanted you to be afraid of him. He is very bad person. And he's in jail for all the evil he's done, for you and many other people ... And he's a liar. Nothing he has ever said or done to you can define your future or who you are. Can you believe me?"

"Yes." He said with a soft and vulnerable voice.   

He was crying again, with a little smile forming in the corner of his mouth, but still crying. And your heart can't take it.

"And the reason I'm not afraid of you...?" You raised an eyebrow and looked deep into his eyes, as if you were going to tell an incredible secret. "I recognize a cinnamonroll when I see one."   

At this, one laugh left Jungkook mouth, and you couln't think he is any cuter. "Seriously... Look at this doe eyes and sweet smile! You are a cutie pie, JK! The most precious one..." He let you squish his check with a blush taking over his whole face, but then he noticed the bruise forming in your wrist and his smile fell.

"But I did hurt you." He sadly took your hand in his. "Yes, but it can be fixed. It will heal, and it can heal even faster if I treat it right. And you can never do that again." You said logically. "How?" You pointed your index finger to the middle of Jungkook's forehead, and then to the middle of his chest.

"Healing yourself too. I know you're messed up, and that's ok. I'm here to help. We can start with therapy, you know..." Jungkook didn't like the idea of therapy at all, but for now he won't discuss it. You were probably right. "Ok." He said, snuggling closer to your leg. A very loud thunder burst outside, coming very close to the lightning, startling Jungkook, who reflexively grabbed the hem of your cotton shorts. You didn't refrain yourself from hugging him with your whole body, planting a heavy kiss on his cheek.

"Saw what i mean? You are too precious."

With his heat beating frantically he answered in a timid way.

"I don't like loud sounds... That's all."

"Is just loud, it can't hurt you." You said looking into his eyes, your nose almost touching his nose. "As long I'm here no one can hurt you." And there it is again. The smell of truth. The idea of someone as small as you protecting Jungkook from anything or anyone may seem absurd, but for no second he doubt your words, because each one of it smell like sincerity. Your eyes too, so intense as you said it, that made him want to protect you too.

"And what if you are not around when I need you?" He tested playfully. "Then you scream my name as loud as you can and I'll be there in no time!"

"Seriously?"

You seated straight, handson your hips.  

"Of course! I was on the athletics team at college. I'm super fast!" He was laughing, your work was done. "Sorry I woke you up... And thank you for saving me." Jungkook said it with so much affection it made you heart skip a beat.

"Don't worry, sweetie, I woke up to the thunder." You simply said, but he knew this one was a lie. _________________________________________________________________________ After the incredible conversation he had with you in the middle of the night, and the rest of the night well slept, Jungkook started the day very willing and happy. He could barely walk, instead it was as if his legs were jumping around the apartment by itselves. You were up hours before him, but waited to eat breakfast with him - you already had a liter of coffee by yourself anyway. Despite not being what you like to do with your life, and and having another job - running a chain of stores for your family - you have been working as a lawyer for a member office for a few months. Even working from home, you have soooo much paperwork to fill out and study, reports with deadline to deliver, to be a suuuuuper efficient employee. So after you finished eating your cereal bowl, you left Jungkook to play video games alone and locked yourself in your personal upstairs office to work.

He can hear you walking around as you talk on the phone, your voice sounding serious and professional. He was having fun by himself, such a good time with snaks and left over cake, but at the same time he was struggling on not gonna check you out. You strictly asked him to not interrupt you till lunch time. Jungkook spent an hour in this internal fight to go or not to see if you didn't need something or want a glass of juice, to maybe get scratch behind his ear and a smile from you as reward. Like... You were just upstairs and he miss you too much. He was so focused on the game and his own thoughts that he didn't even notice his steps down the stairs and into the living room.

"Jungkook. I need to sign some papers in the office. If anything I'm downstairs."

"Ok." Then you left the apartment. You were too serious. Too cold. Too focused on serious and adult things. A world-sized pout formed in Jungkook's cute face. It is only the third day with you in his life, but he already feels very used to it - your presence of light and warm hugs was able to erase all the years of loneliness that in which he learned to be alone and be satisfied with his own company. Thinking about it he decided to change his plans. He turned off the video game, stretched out and went on an adventure ... He was going to inspect every corner of the house. Field recognition.

He started in the kitchen. He found out where everything, utensils, different types of pots, foods, is kept, and with that he learned a little bit about your personality too... Everything is so methodically organized by category and size that it became very clear that you are a tidy freaky. No problem, learning to respect your habits and quirks, being clean, shouldn't be that difficult. The same style of organization also in the hall closet, and in the bathroom, and on the bookcase for games and movies. He did not enter your room or private office - although the door was open, and he could see a very large bookcase and a table full of papers and an open notebook - because he thought it would be too much intrusion. So the only place on the top floor that went through Jungkook's inspection was the terrace, where your plants are also very well cared for and categorized by type and alphabetical order - including name and scientific name signs. In the tool cabinet, he found gardening tools - as expected - and some useless things  or at least he hadn't imagined you'd have ... Like a neon pink pilates ball and an inflatable Santa Claus.

Jungkook lay on the deck chair on the terrace to sunbathe - few times in his life he had this luxury - and took the opportunity to take a nap. He woke up just before lunchtime.

"Y/N?" He checked on your office, and then in the living room. You weren't back yet, but since it was time for lunch he could finally go after you. Without hesitating he ran downstairs when he saw what time it was, escaping some steps to go faster, and without thinking, or rather remembering, that you probably wouldn't be alone in the office, Jungkook knocked twice on the door and went in before hearing an answer. So he froze by the door when he saw the two men from the other day with you in the room.

You were sharing the office chair with that hybrid - in fact he was practically sitting on your lap while you typed something on the computer, arms around him, both focused on the screen. The other guy, the human, had his back to Jungkook, hunched over the table, also looking at the same thing as you. It must be something important, because none of them noticed Jungkook's presence at first. Once again he felt that he was interrupting something he shouldn't be getting into - the little line forming between your eyebrows, while you read something on the screen in deep concentration saying it. With a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach he also felt that he should be interrupting for sure. No other hybrid should be on your lap while he is home alone. He was about to cough to get your attention, ready to make it very clear how unhappy he was with the scene, to let you know that your attitude was not cool, but the hybrid looked up from the computer, making eye contact with him. All of Jungkook's feelings are gone all of a sudden, leaving only the need to hide in a hole on the ground.

"Hi." The hybrid smiled at him, eyes turning into two crescent moons. This made you and the other guy see Jungkook too. The man, who today was dressed as a very stylish grandpa, turned around, sitting on the edge of the table and crossed his arms. JUngkook felt his face getting hot with all eyes on him.

"Oh, JK. I didn't see it's lunchtime already. Sorry." You said, checking your wristwatch.   

Jungkook couldn't answer, his voice stuck in his throat.

"We ran into each other in the hall yesterday, right?" The human calmly asked Jungkook, not really waiting for an answer. His eyes were so intimidating, a whole dominating vibe coming from him. "He's the one living with you?"

"Yes! This is Jungkook." You pridely said, giving a light pat on the hybrid knee, so he could let you get up. "And this is Taehyung, my friend who rents the studio across the hall. And this little cutie here Jimin he works for me as a counter."

"I like numbers!" Jimin said, cat ears excitedly pointed up. "Nice to meet you." Jungkook finally put some word out, still avoiding eye contact. You closed some folders, saved some docs... Finding it super cute that Jungkook was so shy.

"Let's eat." You stated. "Finally..." Teahyung and Jimin whined in unison. Taehyung out of nowhere lost his frightening posture, practically becoming a child right in front of Jungkook. A very excited child.

"Can we get hamburgers today? Last time Jimin chose, and before him was you..." He picked his shoulder bag and went to the door, stopping right next to Jungkook, who practically froze in place.

You followed suit, stopping on the other side of Jungkook, pressing a reassuring hand against the boy's back.

"I actually want to put Jungkook on a healthier diet. A regular meal would be better." You softly but certainly said with a smile, no room for debate. You wouldn't say that out loud, because it would be exposing Jungkook unnecessarily, and you don't know if he would like it, but his blood tests, done at the shelter, showed anemia, among other consequences of a poor diet, even though he is strong his health was not very good, and your plan is to take care of it.

" I think Jungkook could choose, since he is new." Jimin practically put everyone out to lock the door.

The silence that followed made Jungkook look up from the floor to see that the three were looking at him expecting him to say something he wanted to eat.

"Me..meat?" It was the first thing that came to his mind.

________________________________________________________________

Tag List:  @stayunderthelights  @deolly  @panconte @serendipityoreuphoria @madygswich @namjoonies-dimple @givebuckysomelove @imluckybitches @hoseokslefteyebrow  @yzkyzkuniverse @flaring-vibes @justpeachyjoon​

________________________________________________________________

If you want me to tag you, pls tell me. 

AND PLEASE GIVE LOVE TO THIS WORK OF MINE: Clumsy

[frosteee]

Undertaker & Ciel’s Relationship (so far)

I’ve mentioned before in previous posts, and other people in the fandom have talked about it also (way before me, so I’m tagging on lol) that UT doesn’t see the Phantomhive twins as individuals, but simply members of the Phantomhive family. 

That got me thinking about how UT has treated O!Ciel so far, leaving R!Ciel to the side for now. 

Talking with @frederickabberline​ got me to realise that, aside from maybe one or two exceptions, UT refers to everybody by some title or other, usually their job (e.g.: ‘Mr Butler’ for Sebastian, ‘Earl’ for O!Ciel). And when he does refer to someone by name, which is exclusively or pretty much exclusively the Phantomhives, he always attaches that last name. 

For example, most recently, when addressing Frances, even though she married out of the Phantomhive family and became a Midford, UT still addresses her as ‘Lady Frances Phantomhive‘. It’s as if the man is incapable, or unwilling, to personally recognise anyone who is not a Phantomhive.

In our discussion, frederickabberline mentioned that this detachment could be a deliberate/subconscious act for UT to protect himself from further heartache. His glee at other’s expense, leading to very, very problematic comments, could also be an extension of this. Still not excusable, but it’s an explanation.

So, how has this mindset affected his relationship with O!Ciel so far?

The Phantomhives are interchangeable to him (AKA The Amorphous Blob of Phantomhives)

On the surface this can be seen as a good thing. After all, to favour one twin over the other for x reason, as Lizzie acknowledges to herself, is inherently selfish and unfair to the other person, no matter how much of an honest or natural feeling it is.

UT does not have such a preference. When he meets O!Ciel in the Chapter 131 flashback, he calls him ‘Little Phantomhive’ and cannot tell whether he is the younger or elder brother, before stating that he doesn’t care which, not because he likes them equally but because they are Phantomhives.

As far as he is concerned, the twins are mere parts in the amorphous, ever-growing Phantomhive blob. They have no identity outside of being Phantomhives, the same as Frances. He had no special bond with either twin because the only connection between them and himself that mattered was their family name.

If UT was interested in getting to know either twin as a person, like the opportunity he had in the Ch.131 flashback, he would have attempted to seriously differentiate the two. 

While he does ask which twin O!Ciel is, he does it as a rhetorical question, a joke, and then immediately follows it by dismissing the question altogether as he has already decided it doesn’t matter.

More unsettlingly, it appears UT is so disinterested in the development (physical and otherwise) of the individual Phantomhives, that to his eyes they are unchanging. Though UT does remark on O!Ciel’s small stature a few times, this is spoken like/treated as a joke more than an observation from interest.

[There are very rare exceptions to this, but I’ll get into those later.]

This is shown when he responds to Frances commenting on his lack of visible aging by stating that she still looks as if she was ‘born yesterday’.

Even Vincent, whose death UT has lamented the most openly, even shedding tears, is not exempt from this treatment at all. He is no less ‘a Phantomhive anyway’ than his children/relatives, I realised (thanks to frederickabberline again!). 

Yes, UT regrets his death, but whenever he has brought it up it is always in the context that he can no longer revive him because his bones were burned to ash. (x and x). He never says anything like ‘He was a dear friend, how could I have failed him’, ‘He was a good man, why was he given such a death?’, ‘We had such good times together,’ - something to indicate an attachment to Vincent as a person.

And then, immediately following his lament, UT once more depersonalises Vincent, just like he did the twins, by stating that at least “the ‘Earl of Phantomhive’ is still with us”. It always comes back to that, as if it’s the only thing keeping him from wallowing in grief for those individuals.

As long as one Phantomhive is alive, he can deal with/suppress/channel his grief of personal losses into a goal which will keep him from losing more, and dwelling on what he has already lost.

Even when he comments on how much he dislikes the Phantomhive Watchdog work, while he mentions O!Ciel he talks about the ‘karma’ or ‘fate’ than hangs over every Phantomhive, the things every Phantomhive Watchdog deals with. 

As we hear later, he is resentful of the path the Phantomhives walk, their inability to rid themselves of it (by listening to him/heeding his warnings), and the Watchdog life in general, so he doesn’t care about the effects on Ciel, but the effects the ‘chain of fate’ has on the Phantomhive family and their legacy.

This more recently extends to his statement of ‘I didn’t want to lose anymore Phantomhives’, which is as blatant an explanation as you like. It confirms where his mind has focused all this time.

UT regularly teases/dismisses Ciel regarding the trauma of his past.

@frederickabberline​ kindly shared with me the moment where UT describes the ‘proper’ method of killing that Jack the Ripper probably used, to O!Ciel, using O!Ciel as a prop - even though he had a human dummy to use for this purpose.

He may as well have whispered “I know what you did three years ago!”. He’s even gesturing to the boy’s abdomen/stomach area with his ring hand! With his phrasing, and the Japanese text confirms that he literally refers to “steal[ing] the precious thing”, he echoes R!Ciel’s ‘Who stole the candy from my tummy?’ message. 

Oh yeah, and he does this while knowingly allowing O!Ciel to sit on the coffin with his dead/bizarre doll twin inside!

Thankfully, O!Ciel doesn’t catch on, but Jesus Christ, UT!

If UT truly cared about O!Ciel’s emotional well-being, just cared about him as an individual, why would he reference one of the most painful moments of O!Ciel’s life in such a sneaky, tactless manner, even if he knew he could get away with it here?

He does it again in Ch. 24, where UT doesn’t even hide what he’s talking about under the context of a different subject, like he did in his first appearance. Here, after remarking that dead children are commonplace in the underworld, he directly tells O!Ciel “The Earl knows that very well, doesn’t he?”.

JESUS CHRIST, UT!

He doesn’t consider O!Ciel’s feelings at all. He cares about his own amusement at O!Ciel’s expense, which extends to basically anyone else. But O!Ciel is a Phantomhive, part of the family UT is so concerned with/attached to he is literally trying to overturn the law of death for them to continue living.

But as I outlined earlier, UT does not care about any of the Phantomhives, at least the ones currently living and the previous Earl beyond the fact that they are Phantomhives. 

Therefore, he does not consider O!Ciel’s trauma, or care to know about it. He didn’t care to know how he was different from his twin, they were all  the same to him, so why would he care now?

Even if we consider that this black/gallows humour is UT’s personal way of coping, anyone with an ounce of tact would still not do this in front of others who they know such humour will hurt. Maybe UT has too many screws loose to care, or he is so detached he simply does not have room for it in his head.

UT does advise O!Ciel to take care of his soul, as he only has one - which considering his history with R!Ciel (who is still chilling in the zero gravity float spa coffin in the room somewhere), makes sense. But he’s still speaking to O!Ciel as a Phantomhive.

While UT is very well aware of O!Ciel’s contract to Seb the demon, and aware of the danger O!Ciel has placed his soul in, he later contextualises this as the result of O!Ciel holding the same ‘great power’ as his ancestors, which leads to them forgetting the importance of their lives/their souls.

So again, it’s about the Phantomhives as a whole, and how O!Ciel is repeating the same mistakes as his ancestors. He isn’t concerned with O!Ciel’s feelings here, even though he is clearly re-living that traumatic event front the past.

The final, and most damning, is UT’s attitude towards O!Ciel when the existence of R!Ciel is revealed. He reacts to O!Ciel’s obvious disgust, grief and terror with a shrug and exasperated “What? How can you not like this? Does it really matter if he’s alive or dead?”

UT is so detached from O!Ciel as a person, and detached/disinterested in general from human feelings beyond his own - consciously or otherwise - that he cannot fathom how the twin of the zombie twin he brought back might have an issue with what UT did.

UT is projecting, I think, his own feelings/expectations onto O!Ciel in this scene. Easy to do, because he had detached himself from the boy personally. If UT were in O!Ciel’s shoes, he would be delighted, because at this point that it does not matter to UT in what form such and such returns, human or bizarre doll, just so long as they do, and that it will be as if they never died.

And this comes before the revelation that R!Ciel’s dead body was ‘watching’ him the whole time!

Again, it’s unclear whether UT is simply bonkers and doesn’t care anymore or if he’s genuinely unable to focus on anything other than his end goal to acknowledge how messed up it is and how it’s hurting O!Ciel.

Exceptions to the rule

So far, I can point to two incidents that deviate from the usual detached manner in which UT deals/relates to O!Ciel.

The first comes in the Campania arc when UT entrusts his treasured funeral lockets to O!Ciel. Ch.64.

The look UT gives O!Ciel is important, and it is the first of two key moments which could lead to their relationship changing perhaps for the better. He looks surprised, shocked, and the light/roundness/look in Ciel’s eyes give him a more innocent, childish look. 

The close up between them indicate that they are really looking at one another. Or, if this is purely UT’s POV, he is really looking at O!Ciel.

I couldn’t swear to it, but this could indicate that finally, UT is seeing O!Ciel as a little boy, not merely an extension to the Phantomhive legacy, and that this reassures him enough to entrust his most treasured possessions - the last remaining pieces of the people he cherished - to O!Ciel. 

This, and his expression as he tells O!Ciel that the item is his treasure, is the first time UT shares anything personal with O!Ciel, and they share a connection for a moment, after so many years - many more for UT - of being detached/distant from one another.

The second time comes exactly twenty chapters later (may not be relevant, but I just noticed that) in the Weston Arc, where UT remarks how O!Ciel is different from his ancestors for saving Harcourt in from the rampaging bizarre dolls instead of just himself, as his predecessors would have done.

This is the first time UT acknowledges something about O!Ciel’s personality that makes him himself, and not merely an extension of the Phantomhive family or another Phantomhive making the same old mistakes on the same old path. UT seems pleased to see this.

Of course, these incidents happen before the whole ‘Hihi, your dead brother’s corpse was by your side this whole time, Earl!/’Your dead brother is a zombie, why aren’t you happy?’ event, in which he describes the twins as ‘mirrors of each other’, which harkens back to his inability/disinterest to tell the twins apart and all the issues that come with it.

UT himself

It’s difficult to say at this point whether UT is aware that how he is acting/what he is doing is wrong. If he knows that how he is treating/has treated O!Ciel is not the way the child of the family he cares for so much should be treated, and whether he justifies this in his own head (’ends justify the means’ type thing) or whether he is too insane to care anymore.

He does not deny to Othello that he has a few screws loose, so there’s that at least as far as self-awareness goes. He has likely been severely traumatised by the losses he suffered in the past, and whatever else we can theorise about his reaper past, and has done all he can to prevent more - event to the point of alienating and depersonalising the members of the same family he once deeply loved.

Whatever the case, I think enough groundwork has been laid for there to be a conflict later down the road on this point, focusing squarely on how he has viewed the Phantomhive family members for some time, the twins included. 

Conclusion 

While he has remained largely detached from O!Ciel and only interacted insofar as it suits his goals and his obsession, there have been moments where UT and O!Ciel have shared a personal connection where UT was forced to see O!Ciel as an individual. An individual deserving of more attention and care - PROPER attention and care - than UT has been willing to give in a long time because he has been so focused on his own goals and his own wishes for the Phantomhives.

He may for the first time actually start to consider what is truly best for the twins, instead of simply what he wants.

How he responds to this conflict within him between a newfound personal care for O!Ciel and the goal he has been working so ruthlessly towards for years is definitely interesting to think about.

It could completely throw off-balance how he has thought/operated for so long, and bring back painful memories and force him to confront ugly things about himself that he has either been too blind/mad or single-minded to acknowledge. 

He might question a lot of things he’s done, his current plan even, and maybe consider working with O!Ciel and allies rather than separately from them, as he has always done. He might realise that his detachment, disinterest, and depersonalisation are flaws rather than self-protection, that do more harm than good, and realise he needs to change.

Funny, when he goes on so much about how little the Phantomhives change and how it always comes back to bite them - UT is guilty of the same, in his own way!

Anyway, I’m sure his and O!Ciel’s dynamic and relationship will change, possibly quite dramatically, soon! 

What do you guys think?

[queer-crusader]

How do you think Silver & Flint's relationship would have evolved if things hadn't ended the way they did in S4? How do you think things would have progressed through time? I tend to think about the what ifs a lot. I'm just curious what your thoughts are on it.

OOFT. I mean i have many thoughts! It’s... very hard to say really. Because i think one thing Black Sails does incredibly well is the way it builds a story and a character. Many choices made in this show are so dependent on what the characters want and who they intrinsically are and how they influence each other (willingly/knowingly or not), and i feel like there are many very complex interwoven roads that led them to the conclusion they got to. Which is one of the many reasons the finale felt like such a tragedy; you know things are going to end badly because you kind of see it coming. And dear god it does hurt, even with Flint being reunited with Thomas.

So. I think there are two ways to answer this question, and you can sort of divide them into canon-ish versus fanon wish. These may not exactly be clearly indicated bc like i said i have Many Thoughts, and i apologise in advance 😅 Another thing i’ll be looking at here is something we had to lay out for our characters when i studied acting - the goals/objectives/motivations of the character, and their emotional/mental state. None of this is meant to be critical against any character. I simply adore analyising them and the paths of the story, and I love each and every character i talk about here deeply.

So, looking at that finale. There’s several things that i could take from what you say about things not ending the way they did - for now, i’m looking at the confrontation between Flint and Silver in the woods, where Silver forces Flint to quit his war and reunites him with Thomas.

Firstly, let’s analyse what we get from the canon, and what i believe motivates these characters to bring them to the point they end up at. There’s that famous line i think of Silver where he says he doesn’t know anymore where he ends and Flint begins - their thinking patterns have become so intertwined, they basically share a braincell. The tricky thing about this is, just because he and Flint think similarly, share tactics, and a knowledge of how to use people in their means, just because they understand each other well, doesn’t mean they share opinions and morals. Flint especially seems to forget this. He believes Silver is with him in his cause to end Imperial rule. But from Silver’s final actions, it’s clear Silver values his personal wants and needs above that of this abstract crowd of people. He’s not oppressed - or hasn’t felt the effects of Imperial/religious oppression (as far as we canonically know) like Flint and Madi have. And that means he doesn’t have the same drive. He’s driven by his personal connections to these people, i believe, purely from his own point of view. Like, i suspect he struggles to place himself in the shoes of Madi or Flint to feel their pain and motivation. He can see it, he just... doesn’t fully grasp it. (There’s also a question of whether he wishes to, but i feel nowhere NEAR qualified on answering that, nor do i think the canon gives us enough material to give a perfectly cut & dry answer.)

So you have this big miscommunication. Flint believes that, because he and Silver have basically become one shared braincell, they have the same goals, while Silver is still driven from a point of selfishness. (Side-note: there was a moment in the show he became selfless! He wouldn’t give up his crew when faced with torture from Vane’s quartermaster! But then he lost a leg over it and it seemed to dampen that selflessness. I think from there on, moments where he seems to be motivated by the good of the crew come instead from an internal need to belong and be loved more so than a genuine sense of brotherhood. That brotherhood may still have been there, but i think he might have suppressed that instinct a little and instead let the more selfish needs take more of a front seat. Understandable and not bad/evil, like that’s super valid of him. But my point is, he’s not exactly ready to fight for another man’s cause he doesn’t have as much of a personal emotional profit in, especially when he knows it’ll end in certain death for everyone he cares about and he knows cares about him.)

So that’s sort of where the characters are mentally in that climax. I may be skirting details and summarising a bit hastily, but it’s also been a GOOD while since i’ve watched season 4, so i apologise. Flint (and Madi as well - she plays an equally important role i think!) is fuelled by a mix of rage born from oppression/discrimination, and a protectiveness for others who may suffer the same fate. Silver meanwhile is fuelled by a need much closer to home - to be loved and to keep those he cares for and deems important to him alive and around. I’ve framed it as their emotional drive, but really it is also their goal, their objective in that finale. Flint and Madi are looking to burn down an oppressive system while Silver... isn’t. For him, their goals stand directly in the way of his. And by the end of the show, he’s gained enough power to prevail in his objective, cancelling out those of Flint and Madi.

So, could it have gone differently? I think, if we wanna play with canon and keep it as close to canon as possible... It seems almost impossible. These people’s goals just do not align. (There’s that sweet sweet tragedy again.) So what you need for it to go differently in short is for one of, if not several, of these people to change their goal. But we’re talking their MAIN objective, their main driving force at this point in the show - so like, the chances of that are slim. ESPECIALLY if we’re talking about the canon characters. After all, for that, the characters would need to look inside themselves and fucking face up to some of their issues and work on them. (This is something which these characters are not very prone to do, bc jesus it’s a mess in there and if that were me i’d preferably not turn introspective either and be forced to look at all that.)

So if we wanted Flint to change his goal, he’d need to come to terms with the Empire being untouchable - which is bullshit bc like my man has a POINT, just because they seem to be able to be brought down doesn’t mean they ain’t - and to accept the homophobia and oppression they treated him and Thomas with, which, yeah fuck that, absolutely not, his rage and his goals are valid as FUCK. If we wanted to change Madi’s - lmao like listen i understand wanting her and Silver happy together bc we ship EVERYTHING in this house, but she’s poc and proper royalty and wants to end slavery. We ain’t touching her goals. So that just leaves Silver. Silver would need to face a part of himself that keeps him from placing Flint’s goals, or Madi’s goals, over his own. (I suspect we circle back to that insecurity and need to be loved, which defo stems from whatever trauma he swears doesn’t affect who he is today.) So for that he’d uhh... need therapy. And a shit tonne of it. But then you still have the issue that Flint and Madi will likely fight their war (bc they DESERVE IT), which may lead to what Silver considers inevitable - that they will die early and horribly, and he ends up all alone.

So, looking at playing with the canon-ish to change things? It’s gonna end in tragedy. There’s doesn’t seem any other way about it, i fear; not with the way these characters were written, with who they are and what drives them and what they want. If it doesn’t end in tragedy in one way, then almost certainly in another.

So what are our other options? What if we look at the fanon wish - whether it’s silverflint, or silvermadi, or madisilverflint, or just to have these kids be fucking happy? Well, you know what? Maybe it DOESNT have to end up in tragedy. Maybe, if Silver does align himself with the goals of the people he loves - after learning to communicate and place himself in other people’s shoes and prioritise the needs of his loved ones and compromising and all that jazz (god this boy needs therapy that only the fanon can likely give him, rip) - he could join them in their war. And maybe, his genius and creativity and quick wit will in fact propel their cause forward and help so much, none of them dies an early gruesome death. It’s not impossible! It just requires that sweet sweet character growth he doesn’t get the opportunity for in canon.

Another option, and this one is perhaps a little more plausible if the show had no episode limit or a desire to end in tragedy and “align” itself with “history” (they’ve played fast and loose with real history i’ve learned, and like,, it’s a story about fictional characters so why did it have to align itself with history?? Okay fine, as a prequel to Treasure Island, it still needed to end in tragedy for Silver bc we know where he ends up. Were there no Treasure Island and no rules and we could do what we wanted with the show and write a new ending, then what?). This one is more popular, you see it in loads of fics and i like it a lot. Silver sends Flint to the plantation. Flint and Thomas break out and get their war anyway. They’re pissed at Silver for a bit for being a selfish dick shitting on Flint’s dreams, but like,, it’s not as if it stopped Flint. (We can even look at it like Silver knew they’d probably fight their war and have better odds with Thomas in the mix, giving them a better opportunity - but like, that’s just a fun headcanon to play with that i don’t think aligns with what he explicitly states to want in canon.) And then, after some years, everyone learns to communicate and talk things out and maybe, maybe, Silver grows a bit and things become healthier between him and Flint.

Listen, the moral of the story is this. I love all the ships in this show. I think they’re all neat, and i love the different iterations in which people bring them to life and try to align them with canon. Do i think that with the canon we’ve been given, silverflint could happen? Maybe. Would it be healthy?? I mean... Probably not 😅 but like, that doesn’t prevent me from shipping it. (That’s not the point of shipping - sometimes you just wanna see that sweet sweet chemistry pay off, even tho u know it ain’t healthy. The characters are fictional. It’s okay. No-one will get hurt - apart from maybe you if you end up romanticising it and taking that into real life but ooft that’s a whole other kettle of fish.) But god, that’s the fucking JOY of fanfics ya know?? It may also be why i enjoy writing my modern au so much xD therapy is an option, and canon means even less than usual. All im saying is, when it comes to the relation between silver and flint, the fan community are a fucking godsend. You want them to be friends?? We got fics for that! Want them to bone? SO many fics for that! Want a sort of father-son role?? Uhh nowhere near enough fics for that, but the fandom’s still active so you never know! Partners in crime?? Hell YEAH that has potential, even in canon i think if u just stretch out fan-written episodes far enough!! (God can you imagine the POTENTIAL?? Ignore the war, the grittiness, the drama. Get me some pirate hijinks where the stakes are low but they’re still sharing a braincell.)

(Hmm. Now i need to add another idea to my WIP list lmao xD)

Anywayyy, hope this satisfies ur curiosity anon!!

[howldean]

Goodnight, tiger

Pairing: Jim Moriarty/Sebastian Moran

Setting: BBC Sherlock. Post-Reichenbach - Canon Divergent

Warning: Nightmares, past trauma, cussing I guess? Suicide (faked), flashbacks, a bit of angst with a happy ending

Word count: 1,291

(Or read it on ao3)

@jim-wears-prada said hmmm mormor fanfic with seb having a nightmare go brrrr and the rest is history... 

Sorry if the word repetition in this bugs you when reading, I tied in my personal nightmare experience to his, and my thoughts tend to cycle and repeat and repeat and repeat. You get it. I wrote this in like, a few hours and didn’t revise it at all. Oops. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That rooftop. That goddamn rooftop, and he was here again. Dreams like this were the reason Sebastian preferred to stay awake, now. Just like every other time, he found himself ascending the stairs of a neighboring building, fragments of reality cracked through the dreamscape, nearly lucid if it weren’t just a distorted memory of his own.

Sherlock-fucking-Holmes was to fault for this, being clever. He just had to be smart enough for Jim, didn’t he? Sebastian had welcomed the distraction at first, the detective keeping Jim interested passively. Then there was the pool, and he came to realize that Holmes wouldn’t be a passing fancy, but someone much more reoccurring than he would like. Jim was infatuated, and when he was focused on something like that, he got reckless - as though he now had something to prove - as though he hadn’t been proving himself his entire life.

He’d called Jim, dialed and cursed at him under his breath for not picking up, that bastard knew he could see him, and now he was going to ignore him?

And now - the problem with dreaming was the cutting, manipulating his life like a film reel. Forced into his own eyes and gazing, gazing, gazing, but Watson was nowhere in sight. 

Jim. Like always, he’s out of reach, through a scope and defined. He’s too far, and a dread filled Sebastian like it always did. Pacing around Sherlock, yelling- then calm - then disappointed. Sebastian knew the look, seen it hundreds of times before in the dream in their lives in his memories. He shook in anticipation, and couldn’t remember if he’d shaken at the time. He’s aware of what was to come as Jim leaned in, shook Sherlock’s hand.

In a flash. Everything, everything, everything, was ripped from him. The panic, the gasp, the soundless yell happened in an instant as Jim raised the gun - what kind of idiot was he to - and fired.

 Gunshots never bothered Sebastian. This was at a distance through an open window, a rooftop and a universe away. But a bomb may well have gone off next to his ear. Jim was gone. Jim had just killed himself. And Sebastian had watched it happen.

He couldn’t breathe, he was cursing or crying, or hyperventilating, and this couldn’t be real? Jim couldn’t be gone? It wasn’t a dream - rather it was but Sebastian was so far gone it was happening for the first time all over again. That little shit couldn’t have just, no, this had to be a trick.

It couldn’t be. He’d just watched. Jim had left him, left him, left him, left him, and now Sebastian was alone. There was a vacuum in his chest, he understood Jim’s plans but couldn’t be bothered with Watson beneath him or Sherlock on the ledge. He was still staring through that scope and he knew - goddamn it he knew that Jim was right and this would burn the heart out of Sherlock just like he wanted. But it burned the heart out of him, too. That vacuum grew into a black hole within an instant, everything was gone.

Leave it to Jim to take everything from him, that cock. Dead. Who the fuck did he think he was? He was alone now. Entirely fucking alone. Of course it would be Jim’s fault - not that he’d own up to it. Not that he can. Sebastian was hyperventilating, he’s out of focus, he has nothing no one, he’s alone. He couldn’t breathe and all he could realize was that Jim couldn’t either. He tried to scream, no sounds presented themselves, only the ringing of a gunshot. Jim is gone, gone, gone, and he’s alone. All alone - no one is here - no one will be here - he’s gone - gone gone gone he’s alone he’s gone he’s gone he can’t be–

“Sebastian!” Sebastian jolted up, knuckles whitening as he gripped the sheets, gasping for air in the dark bedroom, chilling sweat slipping down his chest.

Jim. It was Jim. Of course it was, why wouldn’t it be - they were in bed. “Sorry, I’m sorry.” He apologized by habit, drawing his shaking hands up to run them across his face, glaring at the wetness of his eyes. He was a fucking idiot, it had been a long time since a night like this, why couldn’t it just be over?

“Not a good night, hmm tiger?” Jim drawled at him sleepily, fingertips coming up from Sebastian’s arm where he’d forced him awake, to run softly across the scars on his back.

“Yeah, fuck, sorry.” Sebastian sighed, pulling back the sheets, “I’m fine - go back to sleep, I’ll just...” He laid an arm against Jim, solidifying his existence and moving to get up, before two arms snaked around him.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Jim tugged him back harshly. “I run cold.”

Right. Sebastian tried to regulate his breath, panting and closing his eyes. That little shit was right, he really did run cold, something Sebastian had learned the hard way when Jim had declared him a human heat generator and proceeded to shove his freezing toes directly under Sebastian’s thigh. But this wasn’t just running cold. Years of attempting (and failing) to understand the madman gave him the slightest bit of insight, which caused a flutter in his heart, Jim knew he needed him. In subtlety. Obviously.

“Fine, fine.” He played along and brought his arms over Jim’s, feeling teeth gently scrape and tug at his skin, that fucking creep. Sebastian smiled to himself, as he glanced back as far as he could to catch a glimpse of Jim’s silhouette, his hair unruly and cute. “I love you.”

Jim hummed in feigned annoyance. “You better, after everything I’ve done for you.” He let out an indignant squeak as Sebastian twisted around and laid himself over Jim, carefully as to not crush him. “Ugh, you behemoth, get off.” But damn, Sebastian was warm.

Letting out a chuckle, and a residual sniffle, Sebastian leaned down from his forearms to press a kiss to Jim’s nose. “Shhh, I love you.”

With a roll of his eyes, Jim kissed him slowly, gently, and strangely calm in a way often only found in the darkness. Sebastian rumbled a purr in response, dragging his lips down to Jim’s chin, edging slowly across his jaw. “I love you,” He sighed into Jim’s ear, slipping the tip of his tongue into the shell.

“Fuck off-” Jim squirmed underneath him, shooting him a glare, even if he couldn’t see it.

“Mhmm, will do, boss.” Sebastian replied idly, trailing his mouth down Jim’s neck. This wasn’t romance, or foreplay, this was a test of tangibility. This was proof that Sebastian’s universe thrived another night, that Jim would be awake in the morning to make sex jokes about their breakfast. That Jim would be there to whine at him about his psychotic plots, to drool when he put on a leather jacket, to snap at him and ignore him, or not let him out of his sight. Jim would be there. “I love you.”

Sebastian continued kissing as much of Jim’s skin as he had access to, having slid the Irishman’s shirt up to nose against his stomach and rest against him, the other no longer complaining as he threaded his fingers through the sniper’s hair. Seemingly content with the verification of Jim’s presence, Sebastian laid his head against Jim’s diaphragm with a sigh. “I love you.” He mouthed against him, letting his eyes fall closed when he wrapped his arms around Jim.

Later, after Sebastian had drifted off again, Jim’s fingers still trailed through his hair. “I know,” He said to the larger man, curled around him. He said, with the slightest twinge of remorse. 

“Goodnight, tiger.”

[shy-magpie]

RQG 157

these things get long and are by definition one spoiler after another, so live blog under the cut

pre episode nonsense:

My hopes for this episode are mostly just the obvious: For Zolf to pull out of his spiral; for Azu to talk to someone about how she's doing; for Hamid to find his footing with the Kobolds (loving that they are devoting a proper arc to using unearned privilege/power rather than pretending it doesn't exist); more Cel lore; a Wug; and for someone to shake answers out of the Brorb. Not sure Alex is going to let us get to know the kids individually which makes sense as juggling 7 new NPCs would seriously cut into everyone else's screen time. I think we will get more of Skraak & Hamid working through their issues, and Skraak's helping the kids through recovery. If we are very lucky maybe Zolf & Skraak will talk rather than just have Zolf resent the Kobolds for putting Hamid in a place to fall into old habits. Okay lets hit play!

Episode live blogging:

Intros are quick: Zolf sounds low, Ben sounds higher energy than he was.

Oh the Brorb drawings come better when the other half is distracted but not thinking about the real topic.

Krakens are through out the globe, unknown numbers, not true instances of Shoin, network is down.

Cel and I both react to having Shoin be the one to come closest to a truly non physical form.*

Krakens are cloned brains in robot bodies. Specifically said Daleks not Jurassic Park.

Shoin thinks he sent a ransom note using the Kraken as a threat against the world.

Does not handle it well when Zolf hones in on that no one knows who he is, much less trembles at his name.**

Hamid follows Zolf's lead and twists it towards boasting about beating the Infection. The talking half doesn't seem to know how he did it as clearly as the drawing bit. Unfortunately its strictly surgical which would be hard to reproduce at scale even before you consider the side effects.

Quick huddle with the rest of the team:

Cel always wanted to go to London?

Zolf wants to ask more about how the infection works so they could prevent infection. Wilde thinks he is suggesting using Shoin's solution, I get Alex has to catch people up but I don't like Wilde being a paragraph behind me or underestimating Zolf.

Bryn wants to review the diary. Alex confirms the diary says he had a possible  way to "end it" as a whole.

They go back and Cel feigns being extremely impressed that Shoin might have a way to stop the infection. I think having time to regroup cut him off from his memory of the infection again. Alex spells out Shoin loses coherence whenever they bring up the infection/the time period around when he was infected.

Heal check time. Zolf crit fails. Azu got a 29 and can see where his theory was better than his surgery. It may be an aphasia (issues to with communication. can't get to certain words, some can't be spoken even if he understands the concept; others he can't understand if he hears them even if he uses the word/concept himself. Brain trauma, memory problems more severe the more recent you get, sounds like unable to store short term memory properly so anything longer ago than a week but after surgery likely lost.)

Cel switches to the simulacrum. He verbally dismisses it as a waste of time. His hand keeps drawing based on the previous question re:stopping the infection.

Alex calls for a sense motive. Zolf & Azu see the latest drawing is a landscape using technical notation. Its a barren mine. Yes! it's the entrance to Svalbard. Cel can see its a circuit. Alex makes us/Lydia wait until after he's done with the simulacrum stuff.

Shoin thinks using humans as your base design to improve from is the wrong approach, gives some credit to Francois Henri for taking a different approach.

The circuit maybe to transmit something, it needs an organic component. Cel couldn't roll much better then that so they probably need to kick it towards the Harlequins to set a team on.

Shoin is moaning about paying the bills. Took on the contract to provide Simulacrum fluidics to Damascus for the money.

Drawings change shape get less technical and focus on the cavern entrance. Ben catches it sounds yonic, Alex was trying to not go there but did he really think you could go from cave imagery to seed imagry without stopping there?

Hamid tries to get more on how he caught the infection.

Bryn and Alex spell out that to get answers you ask a real question he won't answer verbally but will answer with his hand, with a decoy to keep the talking him distracted while the hand answers.

Decoy question is about Harrison Campell.

Concept drawing of a person, overwhelmed by an image of a huge figure with lines going from the small to the large? Is he suggesting they plant someone they prepare to be infected, and have them infect it back?

Proofs? Minor changes between the proofs and published version of early Campbell books.

Another review session upstairs. Hamid's red string wall got cited as being useful! Cult of Hades/Wellington may have been the one to hire Shoin to make parts for Damascus. Zolf and Hamid talk briefly, about work and as dry "stick to the subject" as possible but they are talking productively.

Oh Ben finally gets in that the interrogation is hard on Zolf's knees because he has to keep his legs out of the cell. He snaps a little at Cel when they comment on cell vs Cel. Carter suggests "naughty box" which nicely derails that point of tension. Cel refers to Shoin as being more pleasant to talk to than Carter. Not sure if that undermines the tiny Cel/Carter ship or fuels it with tension.

Cel asks who hired Shoin to make Sim parts. He can answer directly. Well directly for him, it seems to be mostly justifying stealing Tesla's work on the basis that Tesla wasn't going to implement his theory. Hamid snipes him with a shot praising Edison to get him back on topic. Shoin says Edison was being backed by a big investor. Is it to much to hope this is Alex finally consolidating the factions? If Hades is Edison's investor (leaving Edison & co as effectively their minions, rather than a faction of their own) and the factory owners we can cut down on sides considerably.

He goes on about how he spied on Henri, religion as money maker. Shoin was directly approached by Hades lot. Shoin made sure his bits won't work since he didn't want competition. Wellington was his contact with Hades. Wellington always had a pair of cloaked figures.  Vinegar + squizard = funny? Could be useful.

Do not follow what is going on with the hand.

Shoin is still unstuck in time and thinks he is going to connect them. Cel unplugs the speaker on his villain speech. Cel induces a dream state by powering him down

~break~

Cel suggests  painlessly killing him. Zolf seconds the idea because its immoral to keep him like that.   Hamid points out the longer the keep him around the more likely it is for someone to be infected. Wilde rules they should kill and seal it off.

Cel & Zolf have an argument about having the Kobolds handle the remains. Cel calls Zolf out on his inconstant stance on whether the Kobolds can be infected because if he doesn't believe that then he is risking them.

Wilde is moving on? Cel suggests letting the Brorb die, putting it in a bag of holding, keeping the bag in the anti magic field.

They can't just call Einstein because using unofficial channels is bad when irregular behavior is a sign of infection(?)

Alex's unhealthy attitudes about productivity are called out when he refers to the time Wilde spends thinking/planning before getting their transport arranged as "working" (with the inverted commas) rather than considering it part of the work.

They work out possible paths if teleporting is off the table.

And the boys are snapping at each other again. Zolf, you can't flip out every time you are reminded that Hamid doesn't have the experience or expertise of a seasoned sailor. Yeah you did leave the team without your skills and maybe the kid was a bit green for a field promotion; but you know what? He did a fine job, and the other choices were Sasha, who wouldn't lead, and Bertie, who shouldn't. Just because stepping down was the right thing to do, doesn't mean you get to lose it when you are confronted with the mere allusion to the idea it had consequences.

Barnes tells Hamid why going over the pole is a really bad idea. That Azu's suggestion is carrying Hamid has troubling symbolism.

Zolf actually comes more or less to Hamid's defense by pointing out that all their options are bad options, so having a go at Hamid's idea in particular is unwarranted.

I'm not going to bother listing out options. They will pick one or won't need to pick one. If we have been a very good fandom Alex may reward us with Earhart coming back as their preferred transport.

There we go, Hamid suggests her, Zolf seizes on the idea compliments Hamid on it, and immediately takes it to Wilde. Thank God he isn't so far down he can't do that. If he isn't compulsively shooting down any hope (especially from Hamid) then he really is on the upswing from the low brought on by quarantine stress.

Lydia isn't happy that there isn't going to be an American chapter. Then again we wrote off Svalbard, so don't give up!

Its the Northwest Passage and its so weird realizing that not everyone has it as a cultural reference. Wonder if it's an Oregon thing or a US thing.

Yes it would have been cool, but I think Alex is not going to let us have cool new story arcs when we haven't played with the ones we have at home.

Einstein and Earhart are our two best transport options. I am a happy fan. Especially if Zolf has to use his family and Earhart’s reaching out to him near the end of the journey to appeal to her. I mean we did get more on Zolf's relationship with his family than I expected after Paris, so I'm not going to sulk if they don't pursue this, but it would be nice.

Conflicted as a fan, its hard to remember that this taking months extra is a bad thing when the end of the series is feeling too close for comfort.

Zolf, look at you leveraging your experience with moving even when things feel hopeless!

Cel I love you, kraken as submarine is brilliant. Air kraken is suggested by Carter.

Hamid plays with the ideas while Alex goes "why?". Because you are going to have to work a hell of a lot harder than that if you want Hamid to see it as a no win situation rather than proof he needs to redouble on cheerful creativity. Feeling like he had no options led to the worst parts of Hamid's life, the things he is truly ashamed of; having few losses outside of those, he is going to make Kirk's Kobayashi Maru hang ups look amateur.

Zolf is heading to the beach.

Cel is checking on their village.

Hamid wants to contact Einstein himself, Zolf says he should talk to Wilde about that. Hamid wants Zolf with him for that meeting. Zolf either doesn't want to be a safety blanket, wants Hamid to get used to dealing with Wilde directly, or completely missed Hamid offering a chance to work together because he is incapable of seeing Wilde as an opponent. He does say some nice things about being a team.

Hamid tells Cel to say hi to Jasper for them. He is good at the people side of leadership. Remembering names and relationships, knowing how to show he cares because it's important to Cel without overstepping. If Zolf can learn to let go of the rank stuff, they could be an unbeatable team of co leaders.

Zolf nods at Azu. Azu smiles proudly back. Alex jokes about not liking giving them time to heal because they coordinate.

Hamid offers hugs to both Cel and Zolf. Because this entire character is a "fuck you" to toxic masculinity and he is not afraid to openly show affection to his friends.

Cel gives him a great hug.

Zolf hesitates but gives him a pat on the shoulder. Hamid's has high enough charisma to make that not awkward. Good kid, accepting that Zolf is reaching out as far as he can.

Hamid talks to Skraak. Hamid is worried about taking the kids. Maybe Skraak can convince them to stay & help Jasper with science. Because RQG loves us and wants us to be happy, they are considering a fantasy some of us harbored since "science" as a serious possibility. Could solve the issue with Alex not wanting the kids to take up too much screen time too. Skraak is the perfect character for Hamid to have as his second. He believes in Hamid, and can be confided in, but isn't going to take an ounce of self pity or bullshit.

Alex that village better be okay. Smoke? Controlled burn. Ben lightens the mood. The tank is still guarding the village. The barricade is up but they are guarding about as well as a village of level 0(1?) characters can be expected to.

They are having a party and there is a bon fire. Because Alex knows we wouldn't have trusted him if there wasn't a little scare with the smoke. !puns

The village is visibly healing since the weather is fixed. They thank Cel but know better than to ask.

Jasper! Jasper is looking good. He stepped in as a leader of the village. Cel and I could burst with pride. Jasper thinks Cel is coming to stay, Cel tries to explain they are going to help save the other villages around the world and mentions that Jasper would like the Kobolds.

!puns

* One day I need to hunt down the right corner of SF because there has got to be a decent amount of trans humanist fiction for trans humans out there somewhere.

**Not sure if I should feel bad for hoping this gives him a safe target for his destructive tendencies. Ideally Zolf would get past that point without indulging his dark side lest he reinforce bad coping mechanisms. Ideally Zolf would have weekly therapy without the fate of the world on his shoulders too. Its the more personal version of looking forward to a fight after Hamid's been stressed because he seems to find cooking baddies cathartic.

[thelightofthingshopedfor]

Dear Yuletide writer,

I’m 100indecisions on AO3. just based on numbers of requests/offers in the signup summary, it seems fairly likely that you matched with me on Avengers Academy, but it’s also slightly possible it was Silent Hill 3 or The Bifrost Incident. numbers also indicate nobody else requested or offered my other two fandoms, but I’m including them here anyway in case you or anyone else wants to take a stab at them. (there’s also this post if you want a little more info about why these fandoms are cool and where to find them.)

regardless! the important thing as always is that you have fun writing the fic, and for the most part everything that follows is just a suggestion. whatever you come up with, I’m sure I’ll love it.

I feel like…most of the fandoms I requested aren’t too likely to lead to fics with my major DNWs, probably. I wouldn’t want to see dubcon or significant manipulation in a relationship that’s supposed to be positive and healthy, for instance. I’m not opposed to explicit sex scenes of any kind, although I often end up skimming them because I’m the type of ace person who is just Not Interested in most of the physical aspects, so…you’re welcome to write sex scenes if it’s relevant but you absolutely don’t have to feel like you need to.

in general, my biggest DNW is unhappy endings. I’m thrilled to see my favorite characters go through all kinds of hell to get there, so for most of these I would be very happy to get something tagged Crueltide, but I also like things to be okay or at least hopeful by the end. if canon is the unhappy part in one way or another, I’m always happy to read fix-it fics. Between post-canon fix-its that could reasonably happen in the future and canon-divergence AUs where things are okay now because of some mid-canon change, I have a slight preference for the former, but both are good.

as for stuff I like, well, the other thing implied by my main DNW is that I do often enjoy fairly dark fics, as long as they end okay. I also like Loki a lot, as you can probably guess from my requests. if you ended up matching me on Avengers Academy Loki or Bifrost Incident Loki, and/or you want to take a stab at one of the other Loki-centric requests, the Loki fics I’ve actually written are pretty representative of stuff I like in my Loki fics, which basically boils down to “sympathetic interpretations always, with loads of angst and/or whump on the way to a reasonably happy ending”. I tend to take a somewhat lighter tone in general with my Avengers Academy fics (I’ve written several of those and only one of them doesn’t involve Loki at all, so…yeah I have a one-track mind where Loki is concerned), although I did also write a pretty damn whumpy fic for AvAc Loki. I’m very invested in the relationship between Thor and Loki as brothers, although Thorki is usually a personal squick. for things that aren’t necessarily Loki-related, I like found families and deep friendships, sibling bonds, stories about characters reclaiming their own agency from some outside force and/or figuring out how to take control of their own narratives, and probably plenty of other things that aren’t coming to mind at the moment. I’m equally good with plotty fics and little slice-of-life or introspective pieces. I will always always always be happy to see queer characters, especially asexual ones.

more detail about my specific requests, basically just expanded versions of what I wrote in my sign-up:

Silent Hill 3 (Heather Mason). I love this game and that’s mostly because of Heather–she’s resourceful, brave, and incredibly tough, and the game is essentially all about her reclaiming her agency (in a very literal, physical way) from people who used her for their own ends. Anything that gets into Heather’s head would be great, whether it’s a missing scene of some kind during the game or something afterward that explores what she does next, how she recovers from a frankly massive amount of trauma, and how she reconciles the various layers of her identity. The ways in which Heather, Cheryl the child, and Alessa both are and are not the same person are endlessly fascinating to me, and it seems like she probably has a lot of weird memories bouncing around in her head at this point--and possibly some extra trauma from Alessa’s memories of things Heather never physically experienced, as if she doesn’t have enough to deal with already. I would also really love to see something involving Angela and/or Maria from Silent Hill 2; I’m not sure how the timelines would line up (although realistically, considering the setting, that part would be trivial to handwave) but the way Heather basically said “fuck you, you don’t own me” to the cult makes me want to see other female characters find their own agency as well, and it would be really awesome if Heather found a way to help them do that, either by helping them directly or just by influencing the way the town operates. in general, I love these games for their atmosphere and symbolism, so anything you can do along those lines would be great.

Avengers Academy (Loki, Thor). I still miss this game. I especially miss Loki, who was a snarky little bastard but really not a bad dude. Mostly I’d be thrilled to see anything that focuses on him (or her, I super loved Loki’s canonical genderfluidity) developing actual friendships at the academy, with any characters who might be relevant (Steve, Natasha, America Chavez, Nebula, Union Jack, Angela, Jane Thor, really anybody). Working things out with Thor and/or the rest of his family is always good too; Loki’s Frost Giant storyline didn’t involve Thor at all, for instance, probably because it was written long before Thor was added to the game, so I’d be interested to see how things went when he found out his brother was a Frost Giant. I’m also always happy to see crossovers of some kind with other Marvel universes, especially considering AvAc was an interesting patchwork of film and comics canon; meta stuff where characters are aware of their multiverse counterparts is always fun (again, my own AvAc fics are pretty representative of what I like…and if you wanted to build off anything in those, I’d be thrilled). and hey, if you want to pick up or expand on any of the plot threads the game never really got around to, like more about the Academy’s supposed mole, the actual nature and origin of the timefog, or other worldbuilding-related stuff, that would be awesome. random slice-of-life stuff is also fun; so is expanding on any of the event plotlines or digging into in-world reasons for various gameplay decisions (way back during the Civil War event, for instance, Loki was one of the characters who could do stuff to earn points for Team Cap even though this didn’t come up in dialogue--it was almost certainly because they needed another non-event character to round out the rosters, but it would also make a fun premise for a fic). I’d also be happy to see something post-canon, showing what characters are up to now or doing some kind of reunion. I’m realizing somewhat belatedly that last year I only requested Loki because that’s the character I wanted most, and this year I requested both Loki and Thor even though my actual wishes haven’t changed, which...I’m not sure if that’s a potential matching problem or not. But just to be clear, the only character I require is Loki, and everything else is basically a suggestion. If there’s a character I haven’t listed but Loki had an interesting interaction with them, or they never spoke but you think they’d play off each other in fun ways, go for it.

The Bifrost Incident - The Mechanisms (Loki, Thor, Sigyn). I...need a fix-it. Like, for these characters specifically, but also for the universe in general, because the premise of this album is absolutely fascinating but I can't deal with tragedy, so--I need somebody to fix it. Somehow. I mean, I would also be very interested in pretty much anything about Loki and Sigyn, backstory or otherwise (especially if there’s Loki whump due to cosmic horror in general or Odin being a dick specifically, because...I am who I am), or Loki’s relationship with Thor, or...yeah, pretty much anything Loki-centric? But also I am a baby who cannot deal with tragedy so I gotta have like...at least a hint that things are going to end up differently than in canon. Or if you really don’t want to do that, speculate on this universe’s version of Valhalla or something, I don’t know. And yes, even though this isn’t a Marvel universe, I would also be very happy with some type of crossover/fusion with the MCU or another Marvel universe.

Loki: Where Mischief Lies - Mackenzi Lee (Loki). I had a lot of issues with this book and I’m not sure how much of that is just me not appreciating what the author was doing with an unreliable narrator (in part because I’m already pretty attached to certain interpretations of Loki) and how much is the author not quite doing it right, but I’d love to see something that would…make it make sense internally in terms of Loki’s motivations and actions. It doesn’t necessarily have to be a fix-it, although I’d love one of those too, with Loki reuniting with Theo and/or actually reconciling with his family. A giant crossover that includes this Loki with other major versions of Loki could be fun too. I’ve been planning for a while to write up some kind of actual review to articulate what about this book didn’t work for me, and I’ll update this post with a link when I do that, although…again, I know nobody else offered or requested this one. (if you think it sounds fun or you just want to read this book in general, my library actually has the ebook on Hoopla, so it’s worth checking to see if your library does too.)

What If... Thor Was Raised by the Frost Giants? (Loki, Thor). This is such a great little AU and I need MORE. Slice-of-life stuff with Thor and Loki growing up (and Laufey being an abusive bastard to Loki)? Fix-it where Freyja survives or somehow gets brought back? Post-canon fic picking up immediately after the end of the comic? Far-future speculation about what the present-day Marvel universe might look like with this change in its history? Literally anything post-canon about Thor and Loki tentatively reconciling? YES PLEASE. As always, biggest DNW is unhappy endings.

[stormbornbastard]

Sansa + Podrick 

( Summer Romance Modern AU)

Sansa Stark had spent her entire life chasing an image of a man that only existed within the pages of her novels. Men who were kind, gentle and brave. Men who loved with tenderness and soft security. Who loved unconditionally. 

Men who she’d discovered didn’t seem to exist.

On her quest for the love she craved, she had met only cleverly disguised cruelty. Her handsome prince turned out to be a sadist, her blue-eyed bastard who she saw the best in, had only left her with scars. She had been battered and bruised chasing that image. 

Sansa Stark had grown to believe that a love she craved was too much to ask for. 

Now, as she returns to Winterfell Manor from Red Keep University the summer after her Junior year, she’s pretty much given up on love completely. Learned to believe that a kind good love just wasn’t in the cards for her and would remain within the confines of her beloved fiction.

She was surprised to find that her fellow siblings have found what she had been dreaming of since she was a little girl. The right kind of love. 

Her eldest brother, Robb, had fallen into the arms of one Margarey Tyrell who seemed to make him better and happier. Jon had Daenerys, a woman Sansa figured she hate but had soon come to form a strong bond with through their shared trauma. She understood her pain and never judged her for it. Both their exes had left their fair share of marks and Dany had this way of reassuring her that the abuse didn’t have to define her. That she could find genuine love, like she did with Jon. Sansa wanted to believe her. A small part of her did. 

Even Arya and Bran had found people. Gendry was nice and he and Arya argued like an old married couple. Sansa called them cute once and Arya shot her a look of disgust before her boyfriend wrapped his arms around her waist. She could still think they were cute, even if her sister would detest her saying it aloud.

Bran had found comfort in his best friend’s brother, Jojen Reed. She hadn’t even known he was into guys until they showed up, hand in hand. Then again, he was never really the type to share much about himself. That and the fact that they were never that close as kids. 

She liked Jojen though, Bran seem more alive in his presence. He actually got him to respond to the world around him and she hadn’t seen her brother seem so happy since before the accident. 

It seemed like it was just her and Rickon now.

Until it wasn’t. 

She didn’t even know thirteen year olds could have relationships. The Stannis and his family came over for dinner one night and he caught Rickon and Shireen holding hands under the table when she moved to get the fork she dropped. 

Sansa was the last Stark who wasn’t in love. She tried not to dwell on it but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t hate it. 

And then, came him. 

Her mom, Catelyn had made partner at her law firm and with the extra money she decided to hire some help around the house. Brienne’s nephew came to work for them as a groundskeeper. She had met Podrick Payne once before and she was not impressed. Not even in the slightest. 

She remembered him being aloof and always with this goofy grin on his face. He seemed to stumble throughout life, like a newborn deer. He had a crush on her when they were kids, an awkward crush and Sansa had made it a point to avoid him ever since. 

She doubted anything had changed so without actually interacting with him, she decided to avoidance was the best route. The last thing she needed was to deal with some helpless, love-struck man baby who wouldn’t leave her alone.  

Sansa had successfully remained ignorant to his presence for the first few days and it was a pretty proud accomplishment might she add. And then she actually saw him, sweaty and shirtless outside of her bedroom window as he mowed through the lawn. 

And something inside her, stirred. Awoken like a bear in hibernation.

Podrick Payne...was hot. 

Gods, she felt like a fucking cliche watching him from her bedroom window. 

He had lost his baby weight, grew out his hair and had a beard. 

She had never pictured Podrick Payne with a beard. She never even thought he could grow one. Nor did she think he’d ever.  

She hadn’t thought he’d fill out the way he had either. He had strong arms, really strong arms. He didn’t have abs but his stomach was flat and his chest, covered a little bit in hair. 

She bit her lip as she watched him, she actually bit her lip like some silly school girl seeing an attractive man for the first time. 

Podrick must’ve sensed her gaze and looked up in her direction. Sansa’s eyes widened when he waved at her. Fuck, she probably looked like some random creep. 

She didn’t wave back, just closed the curtain swiftly and ignored the churning in her stomach as she sat back down on her bed. 

Was she-Was she just thirsting over Podrick Payne? 

Podrick. Fucking. Payne! 

After that, Sansa avoided him for an entirely different reason. 

Yet she couldn’t avoid the Summer Harvest. A religious holiday that people just used as an excuse to eat good with their families and friends. Her mother, ever the socialist, invited Brienne and her family along with a few others. 

Podrick sat directly across from her and Sansa hated to admit that he made her nervous. She wasn’t an anxious person yet here she was and this was Pod for crying out loud. He cried when he stepped over a snail in Kindergarten. Why was she nervous over Podrick? 

After Dinner, Sansa just wanted to disappear but if she left, it’d spark some kind of suspicion amongst her family members and friends. The last thing she wanted to do was explain her crush and she was a shitty liar. 

By the luck of some very unforgiving gods, the very subject of her anxiety approached her. She felt her stomach flip when he smiled the same cheeky little grin that made her want to throw sand on him when they were kids. 

“Hi.” He dug his hands into his pockets and Sansa felt her cheeks turn red. He was so cute and he didn’t even know it. 

“Hi.” She couldn’t remember the last time her voice had been so soft. Or high.

“You uh, you look nice.”

“Thank you, you uh, you look tall.” 

Tall? What? What did she just say? 

“I meant, you look taller. Taller than the last time we met.” she fumbled out as Podrick stared at her, a small smile playing at his lips.

“Yeah well, puberty I guess.” 

And Sansa laughed, a little too loudly but it made Pod smile and it was nice. Talking to him after that was nice to. Easier than she thought. Podrick listened and only spoke when he felt it necessary but Sansa didn’t mind. She actually preferred it. 

It was comforting. 

After the harvest, she found herself around Podrick more than she ever thought she would be. Sansa talked to him while he worked the weeds, ignoring the way his shirt clung to him and the way his muscles flexed as he did so. She helped him when he worked in the greenhouse, admiring the difference of how firm he was with the weeds and how gentle he was with the roses. 

Then it happened. The moment. 

The moment where the both reached for the watering can at the same time. Their hands touched and shivers ran up her arm and down her spine. 

Podrick turned to her and the look in his eyes, the shift in the atmosphere scared the living shit out of her. He was going to kiss her, she knew it. 

“I have a midterm to write!” She screamed suddenly, taking Podrick by surprise as he pulled away from her. 

She didn’t wait for him to answer before running away like a frightened school girl. It was summer vacation, mid terms were half a year away. That was by far, the worst excuse she could have ever come up with. 

She avoided him for a week after that. Mentally tormenting herself for her freak reaction. 

What was wrong with her? 

Podrick was cute. 

He was kind and he made her feel safe. 

And he made her laugh, without even really trying. Nobody has ever made her laugh the way he has. 

He was everything she had ever truly wanted and she freaked out when he tried to kiss her. 

She was so stupid. Gods, how could she face him again after this? 

She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. 

Summer would be over soon. Six measly weeks and then she would never have to face him or her actions again.  She could do it.  

After the first day, she actually believed it. She doesn’t know if it was her or if it was Podrick but she didn’t care, only thanked the gods. 

And then, the second day came. 

There was a dinner that was way too romantic for her taste. She felt like the third wheel amongst her family and by the time appetizers’ came out, she had found some flimsy excuse to go home.

He was there, in the greenhouse. She knew he worked tonight and that he probably would be nurturing the winter roses Daenerys brought from Dragonstone which needed to be tended to at night. Her plan of avoiding him slipped her mind as she  but she’d be lying if she made her way over to the crystal building. 

She wanted to see him and that also scared the living shit out of her. 

He must’ve heard her heels clicking on the sidewalk because he turned to her, stepping from the greenhouse and into the moonlight.

Shit, why was was he so cute? 

“I know I freaked out yesterday bu-” 

He didn’t let her finish before closing distance between the two of them with four short strides. The feeling of his hands on her waist halted her words in her throat as he pulled her gently into him. Her stomach dropped and her legs wobbled but he held her steady. 

“I just, can I kiss you? Just once.” 

She nodded, not able to form coherent thoughts as his lips pressed against her own. They were soft and Sansa melted into him. The once feverish kiss turned passionate as her arms wrapped around his neck and he pulled her into him even more. Her mind was hazy as her fingers moved to entangle themselves in his hair. 

Thunder crackled above them but neither cared enough to pull away. 

Only when soft droplets of rain fell on their skin did she and Podrick finally move away from each other. Foreheads resting on the other’s as they breathed in sync. 

She couldn’t believe it, she had kissed Podrick Payne in the rain like some kind of Disney movie. And she still wanted to kiss Podrick in the rain so she did. Closing the gap once again, a smile playing on her lips as she lost herself in the moment and him, especially him.

The cold they both got a week later was so fucking worth it. 

Suprisingly, she and Podrick worked. It wasn’t just some fleeting kiss, it became so much more. They explored Winterfell Manor together. Stealing kisses in the nooks and crannies of the old noble home. They went on a few day trips together, sometimes just to drive and find the most secluded clearing to have picnics in. He took her hiking and she took him to art museums. 

They worked and falling in love with him was a natural occurrence that summer. 

By the end of it, Sansa came to the conclusion that maybe she had it wrong before. That maybe kind, brave and gentle men didn’t just belong in her novels. Maybe they were just clumsy frogs who needed time to blossom into the handsome prince, or in her case, the cute groundskeeper who made her feel safe and happy. Really happy. 

[the-cookie-of-doom]

“B-b-b-but Derek Hale’s a failure and a shitty leader whose only purpose in the show was to be surpassed by Trash Wolf Scoot and make the audience realize what a great, competent, superior leader and better character Trash Wolf Scoot McCall is compared to him! Derek Hale got exactly what he deserved for refusing to obey Trash Wolf Scoot, really!!!!” https://princeescaluswords.tumblr.com/post/185664990955/stans-will-excuse-dereks-actions-by-portraying

russianspacegeckosexparty *whines and screeches and froths and drowns in his own bile because Teen Wolf fans and viewers have the nerve to prefer actually compelling fictional characters over his shitty idol Scott and because his shitty idol Scott is not EVERYONE’s fav*

Shitty, entitled middle aged white man & actual harasser PEW:

There are two competing impulses here in relation to the narrative. When these impulse are combined combined they form the toxic woobification also known as “Derek Deserves Nice Things.” This is the belief that Jeff Davis tortured Derek for no other reason than his and the audience’s sadistic amusement. They miss the writers’ goal: to show that in Derek’s role as a foil for Scott, he got exactly what he deserved for allowing his painful history to control him. Derek’s failures came from his inability to manage his trauma, to separate the people who hurt him from the people who didn’t.

In Season 1 and Season 2, Derek let his fear of the Argents and his shame about his actions with Kate (and Paige) influence his actions. He didn’t trust Scott; he didn’t share information freely with Scott; he relied on anger and its attendant violence to keep him safe. It didn’t work.

(It’s noticeable that when Derek let go of the past – when he started to trust Scott, when he started sharing information with Scott, when he did things like hand out Halloween candy to children – he got nice things! Derek ended Season 4 – a season which showed him being open, friendly, trusting, and complimenting and encouraging Scott – with a sexy, protective girlfriend; revenge on his tormentor, and the inheritance of his mother’s legacy!)

The first impulse was the need to make Derek more important than Scott McCall. The thought that Derek Hale was only there for Scott to learn what not to do never even occurred to them, even though the name of the show was Teen Wolf. Derek’s aggression, violence, and lies weren’t seen by them as obstacles for Scott McCall to overcome – which they were definitely intended to be by the writers. When the narrative had Scott overcoming and surpassing Derek, they were flabbergasted. Derek was a hot white man with an incredible body and a sad backstory. To viewers weaned on television culture, he should have been the lead – or if not the lead, the controlling narrative of the show. It should be Derek’s story that took precedence. But it wasn’t!

The second impulse was, of course, Sterek. There’s nothing wrong with the ship itself, as long as the viewers realized that – no matter what the MTV PR department said – it never had a chance of happening. Regardless of subjective chemistry, Derek wasn’t going to have a romantic relationship with Stiles because it would have taken too much focus off of the actual leader and star of his own show Scott McCall/Tyler Posey. It could have happened, if the show was about Stiles or Derek, but it’s not, and having a relationship between the lead’s two foils, including one closely echoing Derek’s backstory and being illegal, would have required too much focus.

Given these two impulses, the audience had to sell themselves the story that Derek Deserved Nice Things, that he was Not a Failwolf, in order to satisfy them. So that’s why they ignored the terrible things Derek did to others, especially to his own betas – seducing Erica, hurting Isaac, withholding information from all three of them – that sent two of them running for the hills and one of them running for Scott.

Cookie: Oh my god. Oh my god this is so horrible, what the fuck. 

PEW: This is the belief that Jeff Davis tortured Derek for no other reason than his and the audience’s sadistic amusement. 

!!! That is exactly what happened. Tyler has remarked on how he had to work any scraps of backstory for Derek aside from Tall Dark and Brooding like he was trying to pull teeth. Dylan said in an interview that “Have you seen him? We have to torture him, otherwise everything is too sexy for him.” Derek was only there to be abused. And that’s fine! God knows I love a good whump, and it is a popular dynamic that one of the main characters always has to be. Think Jace Wayland from The Mortal Instruments, with his tragic backstory. Or Harry Potter, spending his childhood abused at worst and neglected at best. The only difference is, those characters got a break from the abuse, they had sanctuaries to go to and people who protected them, but Derek never did*. 

*Except, of course, for Stiles, who protected Derek even when he hated him, even when he was afraid of him. I’m not even saying in a shippy way, but the only person who consistently was there to defend Derek was Stiles. Not Scott. Scott would never do anything for Derek unless he somehow got something out of it first; how about, trying to make Derek promise not to hurt Allison before being willing to free him from Kate’s torture dungeon? This even after Derek has done nothing to hurt Allison or imply he ever would, and going so far as to take her home when Scott decided going to a party was more important than learning how to werewolf, thus putting everyone, and Allison, in danger. This even after Derek has every right to hate Allison’s family, and not go out of his way to protect her. Which he absolutely did here. 

I had to scroll back up for this, but: “the toxic woobification also known as “Derek Deserves Nice Things.”

How lacking in empathy do you have to be to think that one of the main characters deserving nice things is toxic? Derek Hale DOES deserve nice things, for fucks sake he’s EARNED them after everything he’s been through. (And, not to compare trauma because that is equally toxic, but since they seem intent on doing it anyway: Derek has been through much more and much more than Scott. He, more than anyone on the show, deserves to have a goddamn break and a little sympathy.) 

I just. I can’t even touch on that last part about Derek deserving everything he got. That is so tone deaf and blind, how did PEW even manage to watch this show? Clearly he can’t see what’s right in front of him. Derek did not deserve what he got at all. Hell, NO ONE deserve the level of unending abuse Derek was put through for the sake of whump. 

“Derek let his fear of the Argents and his shame about his actions with Kate (and Paige) influence his actions. He didn’t trust Scott; he didn’t share information freely with Scott.”

Yikes. First off, as I already said, Derek had every reason to fear the Argents. They murdered his family. Derek has no way of knowing how many of them were involved; the only one who couldn’t have been was Allison, since she was a child. But Chris? Victoria? Yeah, Derek was right to fear them. And even if you take away the death of his family, the Argents are HUNTERS. They KILL WEREWOLVES, something Scott never did manage to figure out because he was too concerned with getting his dick wet. Even going so far as to side with them in the worst moment of cinematic history, before he even knew them or had reason to defend them. Allison was a pretty girl, and Derek was telling him what her family did to his, and Scott decided the Pretty Girl won over the death of Derek’s family, children included. 

As for trusting Scott? When did Scott every prove himself trustworthy? I’m sorry, but if someone looked me in the eyes and told me that maybe my family deserved to burn alive, I wouldn’t ever trust them. There is nothing they could do to earn my trust after that. But eventually Derek comes around, showing that he is in fact a better person that I am. Because I would have thrown Scott right at the Argent’s feet for that comment, and let them see just how merciful they really are. And that isn’t even touching on how Scott lied to Allison about her mother’s pack, directly resulting in her hunting down Derek and his pack, and attempting to kill two of her classmates. Conveniently, the two people Scott had claimed to care about when it was convenient for him as a way to keep Derek from building a pack. 

“The thought that Derek Hale was only there for Scott to learn what not to do never even occurred to them.” No character’s sole purpose is to be a foil. A character may be designed as a foil, but first and foremost, they are their own character. A thought that apparently never occurred to PEW. As much as he wishes it did, the show did not revolve around Scott, and neither did the characters. Because while he was the main character, he was not it’s only character. 

“Sterek. There’s nothing wrong with the ship itself, as long as the viewers realized that  – no matter what the MTV PR department said – it never had a chance of happening.”

Once again, PEW entirely misses the point. I don’t think anyone ever genuinely believed Sterek was going to be canon. We all knew better than that, we were not yet in an age where queer relationships happen on screen for anything other than comic relief like a sideshow freak; there only briefly. They weren’t going to do that with their main characters, because then they would have to get rid of them! Like when they wrote off Danny and Ethan, and kept Mason and Corey mostly out of the picture when they were together, or when they brought back Ethan and Jackson for the very end-for no reason other than exploiting Colton coming out and getting those diversity points! (Which were very much not earned, in my opinion. It was pandering at best.) 

It wasn’t the fact that Sterek was never going to be canon that made people so angry; it was the fact that Jeff kept dangling it in front of the fandom for years, once he saw how popular it was becoming. He would talk in interviews about how much he loved the Sterek dynamic, tweet about how much he supported it, and then write barely any scenes were Stiles and Derek interacted. We knew it wasn’t going to happen, and we didn’t appreciate being mocked. 

“[...] and having a relationship between the lead’s two foils, including one closely echoing Derek’s backstory and being illegal, would have required too much focus..” 

But it wasn’t too much focus when any other characters got together? No, of course not, because other relationships didn’t challenge Scott with their popularity. It’s okay not to like a ship, but don’t be so sanctimonious about it. 

Also, illegal? Cute that he brings this up as a ‘concern’ when it comes to Sterek, but where was the outrage when they started pushing for Lydia and Parish? You know, that 24 year old cop fantasizing about showering/amking out with a 17 year old girl? I think the power dynamics with that are inherently far more problematic than little old Sterek. 

“So that’s why they ignored the terrible things Derek did to others, especially to his own betas – seducing Erica, hurting Isaac, withholding information from all three of them – that sent two of them running for the hills and one of them running for Scott.”

The tag Derek Hale Is A Failwolf currently has 569 works in it. That’s a pretty good amount, considering many people don’t get into specific tags like that. I’ve never seen anyone ignore what Derek did; and on a broad level, no one is ignoring that Derek seducing Erica was kind of gross, or that hurting Isaac was wrong. Keeping information from them wasn’t the best idea either, but Derek did it from a place of trying to protect them. They were kids, and he was their alpha; he was trying to deal with the dangers like the alpha pack on his own because he didn’t want to put them in harms way. Unlike Scott who withholds information that directly puts them in harms way (see: lying to Allison about her mother). 

Derek also hurts Isaac during training. Rough? Yes. Unnecessary? Well, I would say that depends. Derek was showing Isaac what his body was capable of doing; he could heal, something he never had before. You can’t deny that gave Isaac some new perspective and a hell of a lot of confidence, no longer afraid to be hurt. 

And then you have Scott, who disgusting abuses Isaac to assert control over him. He was not trying to teach Isaac anything, he was just angry and jealous that Isaac wanted to kiss Allison, who had broken up with Scott, and made it clear that she didn’t want him waiting for her. They. Were. Not. Together. Scott had no claim to her, he wasn’t ‘defending her honor’, he was being an asshole ex. And Isaac paid the price, getting abused by his so called alpha. And what could he do in that situation? Scott was housing him; by challenging him, Isaac would be risking getting kicked out with nowhere else to go. A great situation to put an abuse survivor in. Scott had all the power and authority in their relationship, so do not try to paint Scott as the savior that welcomed him after he was banished by the big bad Derek. 

As usual, PEW is watching a very different show than the rest of us. But it does not revolve around Scott, and it never did. The characters all had their own lives and motivations. 

And, Derek Hale does in fact deserve nice things. Especially if those nice things involve a long vacation to somewhere that has no wifi, no cell reception, and no way to  be reached by a certain self-righteous teenager, with a certain human at his side. 

[shellheadtmarc]

Connections: Macready??

you just don’t know what can of worms you’ve opened, bc the fallout nonsense is like a mushroom:  y’all get to see the cute little toadstool that pops up above ground, meanwhile it’s this huge, ever-growing bullshit under the surface we (mercifully) keep in discord until it sometimes spills over.

so this is gonna get long, strap in.

okay.  let’s talk about tony’s relationship with robert joseph maccready: former mayor of little lamplight, ex-gunner, father, and tony’s emotional anchor in the commonwealth...and...everywhere else, at this point, as far as fallout 4 goes.

first things first, let’s clear up any lingering confusion here:  mac and tony are an item.  a thing.  a couple.  they do gross couple things and are sappy and disgusting and i literally hate them.  in fact, in tony’s fo4 companion verse overall, if there’s no shippy intention and mac was never romanced/picked up by a sosu or otherwise, tony directly defaults to his relationship there.  which is to say you usually get a tony that’s fairly settled and comfortable in that relationship and is usually out doing his own thing while mac’s doing his own thing, too.  at the end of the day, it’s home - wherever they’re calling home, typically fort hagen or sunshine tidings, i’m thinking - to mac that he’s going.

anyway, instead of doing a ~how they met~ retelling, lemme hit the major highlights in their relationship that haven’t necessarily been discussed at length so that they make sense.

+ when tony handed over caps (mac said two fifty, tony said two hundred, mac said deal) it wasn’t to hire a mercenary.  he didn’t think he needed one, didn’t want one, and thought mac would slow him down.  instead, it was for information about the gunners because he’d gotten jumped by them down the hill from fiddler’s green trailer estates (the overpass with the big windmill) a couple of days previously.  that was it.  that was all.  he’d inquired about the gunners in bunker hill and one of the caravan hands had pointed him to goodneighbor, telling him there was an ex-gunner merc working out of the third rail he could talk to.  he could have walked out of the third rail that night (the third rail, those not in the know, is a bar in an old subway station in goodneighbor) and not thought twice about it.  unfortunately (or fortunately) for tony, mac saw him win back his caps in a game of pool and decided to pretty much consider himself hired whether tony wanted it or not.

+ joke was on mac, however, tony has a thing about otherwise taking caps from people he considers needing them more.  he does a lot of work for free.  wasteland billionaire tony is not.  more days than not he’s barely got two caps to rub together - he prefers to barter.

+ that was and remains a big bone of contention between them.  it gets better, eventually tony turns the haggling of caps over to maccready and lets him do as he sees fit for the most part, but tony is focused on everything but money (i know, funny right) while mac is super honed in because he’s got a kid to look after - you don’t stop needing caps just because they’re not sick anymore.  part of this is because zetta gives birth to quinn (to be discussed in another one of these asks) and that throws tony fully into parent territory, and part is because while he doesn’t necessarily need a lot of caps to get by and it takes him a while to realize that just because he can scrape by with next to nothing, kids in the picture change that a whole hell of a lot.  the other is because there are just things you can’t make in the wasteland and need to pay for.  medical services are high on that scale - i don’t think tony expects stephen to patch him up for free, and croup manor and the fort hagen blood clinic need caps coming through to keep running.

+ there’s a rewrite of maccready’s quest, because tony moves too slowly for the affinity nonsense in that he’s got his own job to do in the commonwealth which isn’t about pinging affinity goalposts.  and because mac has a sick kid he’s gotta find a cure for now that can’t depend on tony being that slow.  mac decides to take on the waystation of gunners on his own.  tony wigs.  zetta tracks mac down.  tony shows up and it’s just...it’s a mess.  i’m pretty sure he probably tried to fire mac right then and there even if he never really hired him in the first place.

+ we see how well that worked.

+ part of the above is because tony had already caught feelings and tried to grind them into the dirt with a boot heel.  we also see how well that worked.  he hadn’t intended to stay in the commonwealth for any reason.

+ tony blurts out them feels at the worst time imaginable and - for someone with no shame - immediately wishes a hole would open up under him and swallow him whole.  unfortunately, he has to deal with that because there were no sinkholes opening that day.  things go weird and awkward for a while.  assuming - always assume (cough mala the smooch thread cough) - things go plan, things will get straightened out there in the dugout inn (another bar, this one in diamond city (fenway stadium)) when they finally both get their shit together.

+ another point  of note/point of contention is the fact that stephen and mac...don’t...really get along.  stephen’s weird, they butt heads a lot, it all stresses tony the fuck out.

+ to all of the above, tony was actually really leery about mac in the beginning.  and almost all of it has to do with the fact that tony knows what someone seeing an easy payday in him looks like.  the fact that mac, for whatever reasons of his own, sticks around when that doesn’t happen is what brings him around.

+ tony and maccready have a lot in common, as far as shared trauma goes.  they’ve both lost people they loved in horrible ways:  maccready’s wife lucy was killed by feral ghouls, his kid is sick with the new plague (a prewar disease that was also called the blue flu because of the blue boils someone would get with it - and is incredibly fatal) and may not make it.  they both have an ingrained fear of losing someone else they love.  the difference is, overall, mac has his shit together so much better than tony does.  he’s the mature one, if we’re being honest, he’s the one that knows how to handle the day to day domestic in the way that tony actually never really has, even now.  so while they share that, the fact is they’re different enough in the right ways to balance each other out pretty well.  mac is also leader material, but on a smaller scale.  the eventual plan is to get tony to semi-retire (never fully, he’ll never be able to not) and let mac oversee a settlement so tony can tinker.

+ third bone of contention - which isn’t really, it’s just a good example of prewar vs. wastelander mindset - is childrearing.  tony believes in letting kids be kids as long as they can be, especially with how shitty the wasteland can be - but the degree to which he feels that way about it isn’t feasible for the moment.  so it’s not really argument material more...you know you’re raising children of the corn, right?

+ mac absolutely calls tony a mungo, and tony has no idea what mungo means.  he really, honestly thinks mac’s pulling his fucking leg and that it doesn’t mean anything at all.

+ the rock thing:  tony mistakes a rock in the water for a mirelurk one time and maccready never lets it go.  but:  mac keeps handing tony rocks thinking he’s funny.  tony has a box full of said rocks.  he thinks nobody knows about it.  everyone knows about the rocks.  maccready has been known to send genuinely pretty rocks by way of apology when they fight and tony’s grumbling to himself in his lab (in the confines of fort hagen proper).

+ they don’t really agree about synths.  tony is very, very pro-synths are sentient beings and not property.  mac isn’t a fan.  it’s one of those subjects tony actively avoids - and after fallout 4′s main quest endgame has very little bearing on their actual daily lives, though he does do some tourist work for the railroad and doesn’t exactly hide it from mac.  

+ duncan (mac’s kid) finally does get brought to the commonwealth, for the record.

+ in the beginning tony is very much still...fly by the seat of his pants on a lot of things?  he doesn’t think twice about spending longer in the glowing sea than he’s given an estimate for (and with no way to reach him most of the time because of the radiation) or taking off to vegas on a whim (and taking a month to get back because he returns on a caravan full of people important to someone else in this little group to make sure they get there safely), but as time goes on and he settles in, he tends to do this less and less without warning.  he’ll probably never stop completely doing it - tony follows his nose and his gut and thinks it’s way better to ask for forgiveness than permission - but they get to be a rarer occurrence.

+ tony has never given mac a solid nickname.  you know, like pepper or rhodey or happy.  it attaches meaning to it, and for a long while he’s trying so damn hard to not get attached, and now...well, now it’s just a matter of how creative can he get with puns of mac’s name.  he’s also never once in his life called maccready anything but by maccready or a pun thereof.  no rj, no nothing.

+ they’re both rough and tumble - in the sense that playfighting ends with a higher than average amount of boo-boos.  they are, honest to god, children.  how many times has one or the other ended up with mud down their shirt who knows.  not me.  has tony had to have his jaw reset when a tickle fight goes wrong?  you betcha.  has one or the other punched the opposite in their sleep?  oh yeah.  

+ overall they’re very domestic?  like they have a life and it’s not always fun and exciting adventure entering prewar ruins and fighting super mutants or deathclaws or whatever.  a lot of it is day to day bullshit and being adults and chasing after the kids and fixing this generator or that water pump or herding binky the brahmin back into her pen because she got out again and their neighbor from three plots down won’t double check his gate and -  point being, the angst level is actually fairly low, there’s not as much upheaval as you might think, though they do have their fights and arguments about actual life things - less so about iron man, amazingly - and most of that’s down to the fact that they, literally, come from such different worlds, between tony being prewar and mac being a dyed in the wool waster.  like...it’s not a perfect coffee shop au relationship where everything is sparkles and rainbows, they function in a way real people do in that sometimes they don’t agree.  and sometimes they argue.  and they’ll make up and move on.  it’s not dramatic, but honestly i love them so much, i love that about them, how they function like a real couple.

ask about muse connections : accepting @ofspaceandmyth

[stunudo]

BAU Prep School AU: Class of 18

image link

Welcome to the Frederick Buchanan Institute located in scenic Quantico, Virginia, a senior high academy that shapes the best and brightest minds. Its motto is “Behavior, Analysis, Unity,” the mascot the Submariners, colloquially “the Unsubs”. The small school supports the most accomplished faculty from across the country.  2016-2017 school year  Class of 18

Private Lives

December 15, 2017 8:19pm

           The young couple walked down the promenade holding hands, he was oversized and his hand a massive casing for her birdlike one. She had a simple bag crossed against her torso and a collection of shopping totes in her opposite hand. The nearly-man was humming “Silver Bells” and their hands swayed with the old melody.

“I still don’t get why you won’t go out with me, Chloe Roycewood,” Lucas Turner improvised some lyrics. The blush on her features burning against the chill in the air, she rolled her eyes. They had been talking since the Homecoming dance, but she hadn’t allowed anything more than that. If there were no labels then things could go slowly, or they could remain friends, if he ever came to his senses and moved on.

“Lucas, don’t do this again,” She sighed, letting the fog of their breaths the only indicator they were here together and not in opposite directions inside their own heads. He was a natural optimist and thought of possibilities while she was haunted by her past. “We’re having a nice night, right? Let’s just get our lists done so we can get some cocoa before curfew.”

He obliged, because she was right, like always. And any time spent with her was better than none at all. He bought his mother some of her favorite perfume and his father a handful of scratch off tickets as a joke. She had more siblings than he could get straight, but a lot of the gifts she searched for were within the same stores. He preferred not to think about his half-brother and whether he would be making an appearance for Christmas morning. The vindictive and arrogant Dr. Mason Turner was sure to ruin any family gathering.

They unloaded onto a table near a collection of food carts, separating their purchases and checking off the lists on their phones. It was nearly ten when Lucas returned with fresh gingerbread biscotti and cups of hot chocolate. Chloe was confused because she had found a simple bracelet that neither of them had bought that evening.

“Lucas, stop it, I know some clerk didn’t just leave it in my bag,” Chloe chuckled at his actor’s innocence.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” Lucas shrugged awkwardly, with hands full. Chloe’s resolve crumbling at the raw tenderness in his eyes.

“Lucas! But! No! I didn’t get you anything. And we’re not-”

“Chloe,” Lucas struggled to set everything down around their bulky bags. “You don’t have to get me a gift, that’s not why I bought this for you.” He took the hard case out of her hand and gently released it from its display. He held it up as an offering, waiting for permission to clasp it around her wrist. She held back the bulky sleeves of her winter coat and sweater, somehow his massive fingers were able to fasten it. “See, perfect.” He looked down as she appraised the way the street lights reflected on the tiny gems and delicate metal settings.

“I don’t deserve this.” Chloe whispered. “I don’t deserve you, Lucas.”

He took her hands in his, despite being in public and having a very personal conversation. He led her down to the stone bench seat at their table, their knees bumping as they sat facing outward. “Chloe you have to stop with that, we’re just people. And I like you, a lot. And the way you look at me is like nothing else I have ever felt. Please, you have to feel something for me too?”

“Of course I do! You’re amazing and sweet and handsome. But—”

“But, what?” He picked up his cup to sip as he listened. She clutched her in her bare hands, cradling the warmth as she stared into the depths.

“I’m damaged goods, Lucas. There’s something broken inside me, I don’t think I can give you everything another girl could, the way a girlfriend should.”

“Chloe, I’m not Brayden. I don’t want you because of what your body could do for me. You must know that I love you for you, right?”

She gasped at his confession, this was deeper than she thought, and she had to let him go, for both of their sakes. “Lucas Turner, you stop that right now.” He was stunned and then the wave of hurt washed over his usually carefree features.

“If only it were that easy,” Lucas set his cup down. “Chloe, to me you are perfect. You are the same thoughtful, beautiful soul that I met freshman year. Yeah, it took two years and some awful things before I could build up the courage to ask you out. But trust me when I say, I love you, all of the bad included. And there is nothing I would ever expect from you other than the privilege of remaining at your side. Okay? Because I’m already yours.”

The confession lingered in the darkness of the winter night and Chloe sniffled before answering.

Dec. 18 6:58pm

           There was enough experience in Dave Rossi’s past to understand a poor matchmaking endeavor when he saw it. Though his innate hospitality guarded him from admitting his assumptions and sharing a night with a beautiful woman was never one wasted, not entirely. Tara rang his doorbell before the hour struck and she was stunning, a red dress that hugged her like a sports car traversed serpentine mountain roads.

“Dr. Lewis, welcome,” they genteelly kissed cheeks.

“Dave, call me, Tara. Thanks for having me over,” She stepped into the foyer as he closed the massive ornate door. “Some place you’ve got.”

“That it is, now, rumor has it you’re a Scotch drinker?” His smooth nature brought a smile to her face.

An hour and a half later they were seated in his library, listening to old albums and chatting easily.

“I have to admit, Monica was a bit insistent.” Tara deadpanned after he confided his reason for asking her over for dinner.

“Now, I’m no expert, but I’m not exactly your type, am I?” Dave smirked.

“No, but dinner was to die for,” Tara scrunched up her nose in slight apology.

“I’m not offended, but now we can say we did as she asked and move on, as friends,” Dave held up his glass to strike Tara’s in solidarity.

“To friendship and good spirits.”

“Here, here.”

Dec. 21 5:31pm

           The problem, for him, with these types of situations or meetings as they were called was that the concept of anonymity was unattainable. The support group met in the basement of an old church in a rundown part of town just off Capitol Hill. He knew the area well as it had some of the best authentic food places while he was starting out in journalism. He was sad to say some of those restaurants hadn’t survived the ’08 recession or possibly the recent immigration enforcements. But Matt Simmons had accepted he needed helped and that was always the first step, wasn’t it?

Maybe that was the final stage of grief, either way he walked into the circle of folding chairs and sat down quietly. A few people remained standing by the massive coffee maker and others shared silent half smiles of greeting. The tightness in his chest was constricted, but he continued to breathe. His phone buzzed, and it reminded him to shut it off. It was a text from his niece, Hannah.

Did you find it? Or are you dead in a ditch from a mugger?

외삼촌?

He shot off a quick reply and powered down the distracting device as the shuffling of chairs told him it was time to start. The meeting started when a calming woman in a decidedly outdated Bohemian style skirt addressed the group. She explained who she was and how she came to be working with this particular group.

“Now, we have some new faces, but I don’t want to put anyone on the spot tonight.” She smiled kindly and Matt gave an appreciative nod. “Why don’t we go over our goals from last week and see who had success?”

The majority of the attendees clutched an index card or searched for one among their purses and pockets. One other person glanced around the room before shyly looking in Matt’s direction, the look of recognition and confusion coated his fellow newcomer’s features. His grip tightened on his tricep and he kept his eyes level at the trauma counselor. Their assignments had to deal directly with their own experiences, things they hadn’t been able to do or things they had avoided since their personal trauma or ‘event’ occurred.

Matt wasn’t sure if this was the kind of group that could help him, his experiences were far too specific, and his weathered press pass wouldn’t allow him into veterans’ groups. He listened intently for the progresses and set backs of each of the victims, though he knew they weren’t considered that it was the easiest way to describe them. But that put him into that category and his mind wondered to what he was now. Who he was now, that it had happened. Now that he was here, seeking help from a timeless hippy and people who had been scammed of their life savings or had been bitten by their neighbor’s dog.

The guilt mixed with the familiar feeling of not belonging and he continued to grow uncomfortable. His neck tickled and his readjusted how his legs were crossed, one ankle on a knee instead of at the ankles. He focused inward because the people around him were overflowing with emotion and he didn’t think he could take another burden home with him tonight. Then he heard a voice, but it didn’t matter who was speaking because the words were what resonated in his tattered heart.

“--- the everyday things seem inconsequential, like does it matter if I brush my teeth when I can’t look in the mirror? What’s the point of writing a return address on an envelope if that name means nothing? It’s not that its hard to accept that I have changed, I don’t recognize the person I was to begin with, let alone the person I have become.” The other newcomer was slowly speaking to the chipped floor tiles, her voice shaky yet sure.

“Becoming, Maureen, your trauma isn’t a destination, it was a brief stop on the journey,” the leader reminded her. “Thank you for sharing.”

Matt didn’t speak that night, but the idea of losing his sense of self among his varying identities hit a nerve. Maybe he would come back. Maybe he would find another group, but for now he exhaled and let the isolation dwindle as he stepped out into the bustling streets of Christmas shoppers.

Dec. 25 10:17 am The Prentiss Estate

           Emily put their Subaru into park as JJ checked her makeup in the visor’s mirror. “Jayge, you look great, don’t worry about them.” JJ gave Emily a wilted look, because she didn’t want to seem nervous, but Emily’s mother was rather intimidating. “Besides, its Christmas Brunch, pajamas aren’t out of the place, if you ask me.”

“Well, we’re too late for that now,” JJ climbed out to get Henry’s carrier out of the back seat. Emily braced herself for her family and popped the hatch. Their presents were simply yet stylishly wrapped in recycled paper with red bows accenting each bundle. Emily was pleased with their efforts, yet still apprehensive about catching flack for being late. The walkway was cleared of the dusting of snow the area had gotten overnight like an old Christmas special, which made Elizabeth’s resounding welcome at the door unexpected, adding to the surrealism.

‘Emily Prentiss, this is your life,’ she whispered under her breath. JJ gave her a impressed side-long glance and turned on the charm for her mother. Elizabeth gave single-arm hugged and immediately began fussing over the baby.

“How’s my grandson? So handsome!” She cooed as she unbuckled the groggy baby from his fasteners.

“Merry Christmas, girls,” Emily’s dad strolled in with a cockeyed Santa hat on and a mug of something more than coffee.

“Hey, Dad,” Emily leaned onto his shoulder as they gaped at the stranger that was their wife and mother, who was currently melting into Henry’s tiny fists. JJ lingered, making sure he hadn’t peed through his diaper on the way over and that he had his binkie if he woke up angry.

“Well, you know Kateryna has the spread all ready if you’re hungry,” Vince Prentiss murmured conspiratorially.

“As long as there’s Medovik, I’m there,” Emily countered.

“I think there’s three.” Her dad’s eyes disappeared in his wrinkles, she hadn’t realized how much older he seemed.

“Need a refill while I get one?” She offered to top off his mug, he waved her off as he sipped. JJ followed Emily’s path to the dining room with her eyes, the ease of her departure relieving any tension left in the room. It was going to be a real holiday.

After egg bakes and mimosas, fried potatoes and more pastries than they could name, the small family gathered around the unnecessarily massive tree in the living room, the topper forgotten as the last foot of the pine bent against the twelve-foot ceilings. Henry had a mountain of gifts that no two-month-old could ever need, let alone open themselves. JJ and Emily took turns holding the baby or opening his gifts, while Elizabeth watched anxiously that each gift fit their (JJ’s) tastes.

“Now, this was from Kateryna, she made it herself, isn’t it lovely?” Elizabeth explained an unmarked box with a delicate lace bonnet inside. “I’m not sure if you’re going to do a Christening, all things considered, but it is for special occasions like that.”

“The details are remarkable, please give her our gratitude?” JJ held the tiny hat with awe.

“Of course, she’s off the rest of the day, I think she is video-conferencing with her daughter back home.” Elizabeth explained, as if that was the preferred way her cook spent the holiday.

Before long Emily and JJ had packed up the hoard of gifts and Henry. They said their goodbyes with undefined promises of doing it again soon. Emily grabbed fresh coffees for the road as JJ settled in the driver’s seat. Once everything and everyone was ready to go, JJ reached over the counsel and held Emily’s hand, relishing in Christmas time as a family.

Dec. 27 8:56pm

           Alex Blake hadn’t been to this jazz club in years. Walking in the darkness, she found her old friend in his usual booth close, but not too close to the stage. A quintet played to the group of thirtysomethings vaping in the large booth near the back. The more things changed; the more they stayed the same.

“Is that seat taken?” She asked as she greeted Jason Gideon in a warm embrace.

“Yeah, but who needs her anyway. You look good, Alex.” Jason’s voice was bright, his drink was a club soda.

“Thanks, I think.” She smirked. “How’ve you been?”

“Turns out retirement is as boring as it sounds. You?”

“Good, yeah, busy. My dad’s getting older by the day.” Alex placed her drink order with a waitress and then got down to the meat of it. “Have you talked to Dave recently?”

“He tried to take me quail hunting, but we ended up just playing chess all weekend. But that was over a month ago, why?”

She graciously paid for her one drink and letting the air thicken. “Well, he let Monica Walked talk him into a date with Dr. Lewis, for one.”

“Alex, you’ve never been the jealous type.” Jason watched her carefully. Alex choked on her Guinness before throwing a cocktail spear at him. “Something’s up with you.” He said it as he squinted at her deliberate attention on the band.

She gave up the façade as the applause died down, “No, it’s just, I’m worried because he wanted me back. But I couldn’t, you know?”

“Yeah, he mentioned it briefly. But that was months ago, why the concern now?” Jason chewed on a toothpick as she shrugged. “Alex?”

“Fine! I was thinking of starting something, but I want to make sure he is okay first. So, is he?”

“Alex, if any one of us is ever something as manageable as “okay”, it’s Dave.” Jason gave her his knowing grin. “It’s not your place to worry about him anymore, just don’t rub his face in it?”

“Of course, enough tough guy routine, though okay?”

“Deal.” Jason ordered another soda and Alex settled into comfortable silence as a new group took the stage. He seemed to have adjusted, despite everything that happened. She was grateful he was his old self tonight, she didn’t want to worry about both of them, but she knew would if it came down to it. Alex and her boys, still a trio, however lopsided it seemed now.

Dec. 29 11:58pm

           Even with her mountains of homework, helping her brother to school and doctor’s appointments and general teenage things; Lena’s parents insisted that she get a part time job to help prepare her, for the “real world”. There she stood in her unflattering tuxedo shirt and jacket at the ticket booth of the movie cineplex, only three more hours of work left on her shift. At her last school, it wasn’t unheard of for students to work, some of them nearly full time. But when the school was full of Pedigree and Old Money like F.B.I. was, it was a symbol of lower social status, despite her parents’ deep pockets and positions in the government. She knew she shouldn’t feel entitled, but she did feel shame.

           So, when May Howard showed up for the third time that week to see The Last Jedi, Lena cringed internally. “One for the twelve o’clock, please.”

“May, you don’t have to be so polite, my boss is in the back and there is no one in the lobby.” She tried to stay positive, but she was thrilled with the quizzical stare she had earned.

“How’s break been?” May put her card back in her wallet and folded into her back pocket.

“Lame, working, a lot. You?”

“Lame, but not doing much else. Working on some modes for a video game, but I doubt you know what I’m talking about so I’m going to stop talking geek now.”

“May, you’ve seen Star Wars three times this week, it isn’t a shocker that you’re a nerd.”

“It may not be surprising, but it is still slightly embarrassing.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

“Really?” May’s palms were uncomfortably sweaty, her neck felt strange.

“It’s 2017, geeks are hot right now.” Lena’s braids bobbed as she talked, she realized what she said and just sort of swallowed her next thought. “But, uh, you should probably get to your theatre, since it already started.”

“Right, well, its like twenty minutes of previews,” May shoved her hands in her pockets of her letter jacket. “Hey, let me know if you have any days free before school starts back again?”

“Uh, sure,” Lena glanced down at another guest’s ticket before pointing towards his showing. “Enjoy your show, sir!”

“If you want to hang out, I mean?” May continued, looking at the toes of her shoes.

“Next Wednesday I’m off, I’ll text you?”

“Wait, you will?”

“Yeah, don’t miss the opening scene, Howard!” Lena exclaimed in a stage whisper, May spun on the spot, tongue in cheek and heart bursting from her chest.

Next Chapter: Forward

@mentallydatingspencerreid @dontshootmespence @ultrarebelheart @lyrasilverroseelizabethamanti @cynbx @rikersgirl22 @pllfrommars @wheresthewater  @darknesstoglowing @adropintheocean1234567 @tleighstone12 @unitchiefwives @sam-carter-in-training @prettyboysjello @ddreammcatcher @thegirlinflames  @night��hawk @t25luver @onlyalittleteenwolfobsessed @thismiss02 @literallyprentissstwin @usercorgis @natalie-fangirl @holding-on-to-francis @nikkipea @alisonxnguyen @nsanchez1992 @callmesandwichplease @theonlyonelives @emmiej

[ficdirectory]

Somewhere Inside (Disuphere series #4) Chapter 34

(To listen, click here) - 17:26

Dominique glances up at Levi, surprised.  He’s nodding out the window, in the direction of the dock.  She gets up.  Goes with him.

She can’t break the habit of scanning for Pearl’s mom, and Levi can’t either, it seems.  Both are watchful, until they are fully obscured by the huge white dock chair.

“Did I…” Levi starts out, hesitantly.  “Did I offend you?”

“No.”  Dominique blinks, surprised.  “Why would you say that?”

“Because, I took your poem and made it about me,” he says, matter of fact.

“You responded to it.  Said you’re with me.  That’s not selfish,” she points out.

“I really related to it,” Levi confesses.  “Like, before I read your poem?  I couldn’t write anything.  And God knows I can’t draw.”

“So, you’re not gonna use it against me?” Dominique checks.  “Like, later?  Since I shared with you?  Is it...I don’t know...gonna come back to bite me?”

“I don’t exploit my friends,” Levi tells her plainly.

“So, no?” Dominique asks.

“So, never,” Levi confirms.

“You really think you’re rude?  A liar?  All those things you said?” she checks.

“Well yeah,” he says, plainly.  “There’s got to be a reason that happened to me.  Those seem like pretty good ones.”

“Or maybe....” Dominique ventures.  “You were just a little boy.  And making a mess or whatever happened, doesn’t justify what was done to you.”

“And maybe your soul’s not just dying embers.  Maybe you’re full of light,” Levi returns, looking out at the water.

“There’s more to it.” Dominique blinks back tears, stunned.  Swallows the emotion she’s feeling, even though it goes against Feelings Time.  

“I’m listening if you wanna share. No pressure,” Levi says.

Dominique takes a breath.  Another.  Another.  Somehow, she can still feel smoke choking her.  Even out here in all of this natural air.

She shakes her head.

“It feels personal, though.” Levi says, bringing the conversation back to the poem.  Back to reasons for what happened to him.

“That’s because it is,” Dominique answers.  “I’m not saying that it’s not totally valid to feel like we’re the reason.  But the fact is?  What happened to us, would’ve never happened...if people around us didn’t make it happen. If you’re looking for a reason, Levi, it’s them.  It’s her.”

“I know,” he nods.  And you don’t owe me anymore to your story than you want to share.  And I’m never gonna exploit you,” he reminds her.

“We gotta take Francesca down here with us before we have to go.  I promised her.” Dominique says, changing the subject.

“Okay,” Levi confirms,  “So...you’re really not mad I wrote all over your poem?”

“I feel...like your poem completes mine, in a way.  No, I’m not mad.  If you took it and wrote something unrelated, or irreverant, or silly?  Then, I’d be upset, but even then I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“I worry about women’s tempers…” Levi confides.  

“And I worry about men’s…” Dominique echoes her own feelings.

“It’s not normal.  It’s super weird,” Levi insists.

“It’s normal for us, though.  Given your experience, it makes 100% sense that you worry about women’s reactions.  Just like it makes sense for me to feel like I do.”

“Pearl gave me a thing.” Levi confides.  “I don’t know how to respond.”

“Hmm…” Dominique hums.

“I feel like it’s supposed to be genuine but I keep side-eyeing it…  She’s like, trying to make up for dismissing me.  Telling me I matter and stuff.  But it’s like, if  I really matter, then show me.  You know?”

“Maybe tell her that when we go back in?” Dominique encourages.

“Maybe.”

--

For Pearl, it’s much easier to focus on the present moment than it is to think about this day 22 years ago, as the last day she was her former self.  The last day she wasn’t irrevocably changed.

It’s also beyond hard that Levi and Dominique seem to always prefer to go off just the two of them and discuss things in private.  It hurts that he doesn’t yet trust Pearl that way, even if it makes total sense.

Speaking of, here comes Levi now.  He hands her a piece of paper, folded.  

Curious, Pearl opens it and her heart falls.  It’s her own letter to him.  At the bottom, he’s scrawled:

You keep telling me I matter but the way you treat me doesn’t match.  Don’t just tell me I matter.  Show me, by taking me seriously.  I really need that.

Pearl folds the letter wondering when every single thing will stop feeling like rejection.  Levi’s not even keeping her own letter.

“Does anybody wanna share their stuff they made?  Or any feelings?” Jesus asks.

Pearl crosses her arms.  Then, looks at Francesca and remembers her telling Pearl she should practice being a safe person.  She wonders what that looks like.

“Francesca brought up being a safe person with me…” she ventures.  “I guess I’d like to know...what does that look like for you guys?”  Pearl’s got her pen poised to take notes.

“No sharing private information, like what we talk about at Avoidance,” Francesca offers.

“When somebody tells you something...believe them,” Levi adds, quiet.  “Don’t dismiss it because you don’t understand.”

“Ask questions if you don’t understand,” Mariana adds.

Pearl’s rushing to keep up.

“Respect boundaries,” Dominique says, and Pearl can feel her gaze.

“And take responsibility,” Jesus adds in a soft tone that still, somehow, makes Pearl glance up.  “Remember that we’re responsible to and for each other.  So, respect, communicate, clarify...and if you mess up?  Apologize.  And mean it.”

“I’m sorry for leaving,” Levi speaks up before Pearl can, surprising her.  He’s looking at the grain of the table top.  “And I’m sorry for yelling and making a big deal about the cookies.”

“Levi.”  Jesus says.  “What are you doing right now?”

Levi glances up at Jesus.  “What do you mean?  I’m taking responsibility.  So you guys all know I’m safe or whatever.”

“It sounds a little bit like...compliance,” Dominique says gently.

“What’s that?”  Levi’s eyes are full of questions.

(Pearl wonders if he’s searching his brain for what compliance could mean.  Coming up against a single context for the word.  Work at the store, when somebody went overtime without taking breaks.  Even though, it always bothered Pearl because that struck her as noncompliance.)

“Obedience,” Dominique clarifies.  “Sounds like you might be quick to follow any kind of command or suggestion.”

“Because maybe he doesn’t wanna get kicked out of our group….” Francesca offers, distracted by coloring.  “If he doesn’t follow all the rules.  That’s what I use to think.”

“But what’d you learn about that?” Dominique asks.  “Can you share with Levi?”

“That...being in our friend group doesn’t mean you have to never make a mistake.  If you make a mistake, it’s okay.  If you’re still learning something, it’s okay.  Oh, you guys, we forgot consent for being safe people.  Pearl, write that down.  Consent is asking first before you touch or come into somebody’s space or sometimes if it’s okay to ask a question about somebody’s trauma, instead of, you know, just asking and surprising them.”

“So, what’s wrong with that?” Levi asks Dominique honestly.

“With…” Dominique ventures.

“Being compliant?” Levi clarifies.

“It’s a sign that you might be dealing with trauma…” she offers.  “Because in friendship...we don’t have to obey each other.  Nobody has power over anybody else.”

Levi shrugs.  “I just wanna do the right thing…”

“But there’s not really,” Mariana allows.  “Like, there’s honesty.  There’s what’s true for you.”

“But what if I don’t want to?” Levi asks.

“That’s your right,” Jesus reminds him.  

“Yeah, you can say no, or not share, and we won’t make you or ignore you,” Francesca insists.

Pearl doesn’t miss it, when Levi slides a glance her way.

“Levi…” she says, trying not to sigh.  “You don’t have to do everything right.  You can make mistakes.  I know I didn’t make you feel safe earlier today when I mishandled your trigger.  I am sorry about that.  I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you directly.  I should have recognized you were upset.  I should have respected your boundaries.”

“But why is it wrong to do what people want?” Levi asks.  “Especially if it makes sense.  My leaving scared you, Francesca.  It probably scared all of you.  Why wouldn’t I apologize for that?  Or for losing it and knocking cookies on the floor and screaming?”

“It’s why you’re apologizing,” Dominique explains.

“Why am I apologizing?” Levi asks, confused.

Dominique takes a slow deep breath.  Levi does, too.  (So does Pearl.)

“I have a question.  Are you cool with that?” Dominique asks.

Levi nods.

“You don’t have to say yes,” she tells him.

“I’m not.  I wanna know.”

“Okay.  When you apologized, was it fear-based?” Dominique questions.

Levi blinks.  “I’m sorry?”

“You started in immediately.  Right on the end of what Jesus said about taking responsibility.  I’m just saying...that can be a sign of stress.  Or fear.”

“I don’t wanna do the wrong thing.  Now, it sounds like I was wrong to apologize,” Levi lays his forehead on the table.

“Hey, Levi?”  Jesus says.  “Try not to shut down right now, okay?”

“I’m not,” Levi denies flatly, his forehead still against the table.

“You feel like you’re doing the wrong thing?” Pearl asks.

Levi doesn’t move.  Doesn’t say anything.

“I bet that feels scary,” Pearl offers, sympathetic.

“It’s fine,” he denies, his voice still expressionless.

“Or maybe it feels normal?” Pearl tries again.

“Levi,” Dominique says, and he glances up.  “Hey.  It’s Dominique.  It’s us.  We’re friends.  We’re not gonna hurt you.  Even if you do the wrong thing.”

Still, Levi barely reacts, except to slightly bite the inside of his lip.

“You don’t have to answer any questions you’re not comfortable with.” Dominique continues.

“I just...don’t understand.” Levi admits.  “And nobody’s telling me.”

“Because…” Dominique starts out deliberately.  “If you’re answering questions...out of fear...or responding...out of fear...or apologizing...out of fear...that could mean you’re triggered.  That could mean...you don’t feel safe.  And we...as your friends...never want you to feel...like you need to give us answers, responses or apologies...because you feel...like we might hurt you...if you don’t.”

“Less…” Levi manages.

“Less?” Dominique echoes.

“I need less...words…” he manages.

“You don’t have to do things that scare you…” Pearl begins, pausing as Dominique had.  “....In order to protect yourself from our reaction.  Our reaction?  Will always be...to protect you.”

Levi looks about to lay his head back on the table when Francesca slides a paper over to him.  “Wanna do my maze?” she asks.

Silently, he accepts a blue colored pencil, and starts completing the simple task.  Slowly.

“Still need less,” he manages.  Pearl’s close enough that she hears him sniff.

“Levi?  It’s Jesus.  Can you listen to my voice while you do that?” he checks.

Absently, Levi nods.

“You’re not in danger right now,” Jesus tells him calmly.

Levi glances up sharply.  Meets Jesus’s eyes.  The look is intense.

“Breathe.  You’re okay,” Jesus insists.

Mariana nudges her apple hand sanitizer Levi’s direction.  He opens it.  Smells it.  That seems to help him breathe.

“I am, though.” Levi says, after a pause.

“You are, what?” Jesus asks.

Levi shrugs.

“We have time,” Dominique encourages.  “Take your time.”

“In danger…” he manages.  “Of...being left.”

“You’re in danger of being left?” Dominique echoes, her voice sympathetic.

He nods.  “I have to do what people want.  Or else,” he shrugs.  “They hurt me.  Or they leave.”

“We have to leave on Monday, to go back to California.  But not because we want to,” Francesca explains.  “We don’t want to leave you.  It’s not because you did anything wrong.  It’s just how life is.  Hold on.  I’m making you another map,” Francesca tells him.

Pearl watches, interested, as Francesca carefully draws a path on a piece of paper.  

“How do you spell Levi?” Francesca asks.

“L-E-V-I,” Levi spells, his voice soft.

She writes Levi at the top of the maze.  Then Pearl near him.  Then a bunch of squares.  Then at the bottom right, she writes her own name, followed by Jesus, Dominique and Mariana.

“What’s this?” he asks, when Francesca pushes it toward him.

“Us, and those are Avoidance picnic tables.  So whenever we need each other we can just meet at one of those.”

“But I can’t…” Levi manages.  “I can’t lose you guys.”

Pearl’s stunned to see his tears.  His upset that runs so deep.  It’s no surprise, really, given everything he’s dealing with.  Francesca stops what she’s doing.  “Do you need my arms?” she asks.

But he crosses his.  “No.”

“You don’t have to do everything right,” Pearl offers.  “To avoid getting hurt.  Or getting left.  I understand having a sister is new.  And it hasn’t been the best experience so far, but you are stuck with me.  In a good way.  I’m not leaving you.  Unless you want me to.”

“I don’t,” Levi manages.

“I don’t want you to go either.  And I promise I’m going to get better at not hurting your feelings.  About taking you seriously.”

“You have to prove it,” Levi says, his voice shaking.

“Right, I know.  Being a safe person isn’t a given,” she nods.  “I do have to prove it.”

“Is it okay…” Levi starts, after a pause, glancing at Dominique.  “...if I’m still afraid?”

“Yes.  It’s okay.” she tells him.  “It makes sense.”

Pearl pays attention to the words Dominique uses.  How she avoids telling him all of them are scared, too.  But instead keeps her answer short (out of respect for his requests for less words) and to the point.  She validates his feelings and leaves room for him to speak again.

“If I mess up...what will you do?” Levi asks.

Pearl tries not to flinch at his direct eye contact.  At the fact that this is a question for her.  

“If you mess up...I’ll help you.  I’ll help you fix whatever’s broken.”

“And what if...I’m the mess…” Levi croaks.  “You can’t fix me…”

“No, I can’t,” Pearl shakes her head, sadly.  “But I can love you.  If you’re the mess, I’ll love you.”

“It’s hard to believe that…” Levi admits, hoarse.  “But you believe me?”

“I do.  Yes.  I believe you,” Pearl tells him.

He nods a little.  And it feels - plank by plank - like a shaky bridge is being built between them.