#like.. i know he just wants to explain to offer some closure maybe

[historytc]

so! I saw him last night. putting this under a read more because it’s gonna be a ramble.

I had such a good time omg. We met for dinner and basically just talked for hours til 2 am and got drunk, it was exactly like it used to be when I was his student. But he’s a lot more open with me now that I’m not, and he said we’re friends, actual friends, and if he says that then I guess I have to believe it.

He’s with a woman now, and although it doesn’t sound like it’s some great affair and he said it’s more of a partnership I wasn’t upset by that. A year ago I would’ve been but now as long as he’s content with it I’m fine with it. Plus he was saying how he had an “almost paternal” worry for me and offered me paternal advice if I ever wanted it. Again, a year ago I would’ve hated it but now it’s just really sweet that he views me like that and I’m glad he cares about me almost like I’m his daughter.

I don’t love him anymore in the way I used to. I knew that the moment I saw him again. It’s not 2022 anymore and I’m not who I was back then and that’s for the best. I do, however, still love him in some way. It’s hard to explain but it’s almost a nostalgic affection and a gladness that he’s in my life. If he asked me to be with him I still would, but it’s not the overwhelming longing that it used to be. I’ll always love him for who he is and what he’s done for me, I know that, but now I’m just happy about that.

I’m glad I got to see him again. He said he’d let me know when he’s back in the area, so maybe I’ll see him again. Either way, I needed the closure. I used to pray to see him one last time and I did and I’m happy, I’m so happy.

[lssugaluv]

 “Welcome Home”

• Chapter 9 of “My First.”

See "My First" Chapter list here: My First Masterlist.

• See My Masterlist here: Lssugaluv's Masterlist.

• Chapter 8 link: "From Closures to New Beginnings."

Contains: Family fluff, worries, feelings, family time.

After the what seemed like a long car drive, you finally arrive to Atsumu’s place. He knew you felt a bit uncomfortable and offered you to stay in the guest room. He asked if it was okay if he can sleep with Benji for the night which you agreed on. You asked to shower and he let you borrow one of his t-shirts to sleep. He got Benji ready for bed, and changed him into his Pjs that you had for him in your bag.

  The next morning, you woke up to Atsumu on the phone. "So you're telling me that I have to do a press conference?!" Said the man in a frustrated tone. Minutes later, he knocks on your door and asks to speak with you. "I spoke to my representative and he told me that Akira already broke the news about calling the engagement off. She's going off saying I cheated on her. And she already mentioned the press about you and Benjiro."

  Atsumu rests his head on the bed stressed out. He continues with, "now I have to go out and explain the situation. But I don't know if I want too." You grab his hand and try to encourage him. "Obviously you don't have to say everything but I do suggest you to go out there. You don't want to seem like a cheater either." You both smiled at one another. Benji gets up from bed and comes to you and Sumu. "Mama, Papa, I hungry." He says as he rubs his tummy. "Let's make pancakes?" Suggests Atsumu.

You guys all entered the dark kitchen and fix up some pancakes. Atsumu couldn't get enough of how adorable Benji is. He also couldn’t get enough of you in his oversized t-shirt. “If I can wake up every morning to this, it'll be amazing." Atsumu quietly says and you simply smiled.

"Hey so I want to know if you aren't busy today?" You asked as you guys were cleaning up. "No, I have practice today at 4 though." You nod your head and as he asks why. "I have to visit the school board today at 12, to see where I will be placed. And then I have a couple of apartment complexes to view." Atsumu eyes shot up bright. "You want me to go with you?" He asks just like an excited little Benji. You giggled and told him no. "I will like for you to watch Benji. Maybe spend more time with him." He liked your suggestion and agreed.

"If I don't come back by 3 to pick him up, please drop him off at my mom's. I'll let her know since I'm going over to change anyways." He agrees and takes both you and Benji back to your parents. He waited for you to freshen Benji up and get his stuff ready. You handed Sumu the bags of supplies and told him everything he needed to know. "Please if you need anything or have any questions call me Atsumu." He laughed hard at you. "Y/n, I'm not some type of babysitter, I'm his dad. Don't worry, everything will be okay." He tried to help your worries go away. "Oh, do not forget to give him his pain medicine for his arm okay."

You gave Benji plenty of hugs and kisses up until he became annoyed. "Y/n it's okay. He will be in good hands." You look at Atsumu with a worried expression. "It's just. I never leave him alone. I only did but with my sister. This is hard." He gave you a hug and laughed at you. "Look at you being all mama bear. At least I know he has always been in good hands." You smile and wave your good byes.

Okay l/n sama, you will be placed in Inarizaki and work as a counselor there." You were so excited, you right away called Maya to tell her the news. "We need to celebrate!" Says Maya. You girls hang up and you meet up with the realtor. He took you to three different apartments. The first one was nice but it was a bit far from work. You needed something close to work, your parents home, and to a day care. You noticed the realtor on a phone call.

   "I actually have another place to show you," you go to a very similar apartment complex building. You guys went to the fourth floor. "What do you think of this?" You did like it but you weren't sure. "It has the city view, it's close to your parents home and work. The day care is about a 10 min drive however." You looked around at the rooms. "It does have great space for my baby and I but it may be too much just for the both of us."

The realtor kept trying to convince you. "Well this place does have a play house where you can take your son. There's a spa, a pool, a gym, and they even have food courts!" You then asked for the pricing. That was when your realtor told you that someone was offering this to you. You heard a knock on the door and saw Atsumu and Benji walk in. "So, what do you think?" Says Atsumu with an amused tone. "I had a feeling you were behind this." You say as you lay a hand on your forehead.

"I'll allow you two to talk." And the realtor steps out. "It's nice but it may be expensive." He smiled at you. "I'll take care of the payments." You obviously refused. "Well, it's mine." And you sat there in confusion. " I bought it yesterday, so I owe mine and this one. Mine is on the 6th floor which is the top flooring here." You simply smiled.

"Look, I wanted you to live with me. But with all this commotion I'm having, I knew it was not a good idea. Plus, I already know you will reject my offer. But please, I want you and Benji to stay close to me." You took his offer and spoke to the realtor. "Sell all of your things in America, you will start fresh here." You thanked him by giving him a hug. Your arms were around his waist while your head rested by his chest. "Welcome home!!"

After thought:

Y/n finally settles in. So far everything is going well for her and Atsumu. They both have been focusing all of their attention on Benji. But what about them two? How far will their relationship go?

See you on the next chapter. 🥹

[audreyrose7]

*long first date ever story*

We matched on bumble. So we talked, mostly about nerdy shit video games, rocks etc. And after maybe 2 weeks we went on a date. At the time I thought the connection was amazing, now I'm realizing I think I am just a romantic who makes everything more dramatic than it is. He was a decent guy, so I agreed to go on a date with him. We ate pizza, and cuddled a little bit. It was nice, it was pleasant. There was a moment where we were both reaching for the same thing in our hands touched and later he described it as a moment that he would remember. (Later he also told me that he considered sneaking a kiss at the end of the date, which would have gone over horribly because for one it was way too early for that and for two he didn't ask so I would have freaked out)

Like I said he was a decent guy but a few weeks of knowing a girl and a single date is not enough for you to keep mentioning marriage! He kept bringing it up and asking questions about what I would like a wedding to look like, or what my favorite flowers were or what kind of ring I liked, I told him repeatedly that that was moving way too fast and I was not comfortable with it but he kept doing it anyway.

One day at work it just hit me.

I'm uncomfortable and I don't want what this person is offering.

I kept thinking over and over about him saying he wanted to kiss me and how much I didn't want that. (I'm incredibly Demi and that plays into this hugely but I didn't know that at the time, also the fact that I hadn't known him long enough to feel that level of trust and comfort)

So I broke it off. I sent him a message saying but I didn't think it was going to work out, I was polite but firm. He was incredibly shocked and surprised he had no idea what had changed so quickly. I remember being frustrated with him saying that when I've been telling him for a while to slow down.

The relief I felt was incredible.

Even when I lay on the floor crying, scared that I would never find romantic feelings like that again, I still knew it was the right decision.

He knew where I worked and I was scared he was going to show up, but he didn't. And I was relieved because as time passed I realized how there was a lack of consent and respect in the way he was with me.

Over a year later I ended up messaging him giving him a more proper explanation, (terrible idea I know I still had a lot of growing to do) explaining how there was a lot going on in my personal life at the time as well, I guess part of me thought maybe he's grown enough and I could date him again, and part of me also just wanted some closure. He read my message and never responded so I did get some closure.

He was completely wrong for me. And kind of boring.

And WAY too fast at using possessive words to describe me.

Most importantly he loved the idea of me, but he really barely scratched the surface of who I was, so how could he say that he loved me?

Anyways, i learned a lot from that experience, so I guess I'm thankful for it.

[juviibi]

That and Christopher Nolan confirmed it was. A couple things allude to this:

One of them is Robert Fischer looking at Cobb for a second as he passed in the airport because for a second he recognized him. The same way you always know something is familiar from your subconcious, but you can't put your finger on it. What's awesome about this detail is they were actually IN his subconcious so when he sees Cobb he recognizes him in the back of his mind for a minute because he's awake. Cobb can't be asleep at the same time Fischer is awake in the same dream. At least that's how I saw it.

The second is he never saw his childrens' faces the day he left abruptly. He mentions this when he's talking to Ariadne. He says he keeps reliving the same mistake of never seeing their faces because he feels regret and leaves in a hurry. So everytime he dreams he never sees their faces, because he didn't when he was awake in his memories. If he was still living out his memories he wouldn't have seen his childrens' faces in the ending.

The final thing I bring to the table for the sake of not wanting to write an essay is the top spinning. Now, yeah it's kind of open-ended but not really 'cause Christopher Nolan said he really did wake up. But I emphasize this moment because Cobb doesn't wait to see if the top stopped spinning, but rather he forgets about it when he sees his childrens' faces. This is due to two things, one is he probably also realized the reason I stated above, and two, he got to a point where he didn't care if this was a dream or reality...He got to see his kids again. That's all he ever wanted, so why gaf about the top stopping or not when he finally got what he wanted, and he has some evidence that was previously stated above that proves he had reason to believe he was awake anyway.

The top almost stopping, not really, but then maybe, is meant to make you think about the ending and make your own conclusion which what Nolan gives us. Yes, he confirmed Cobb woke up, but like, that doesn't stop us from drawing different conclusions and ideas from the top. Movies are art, they're meant to be interpreted uniquely and viewed in obscure ways, so if we want to believe he did or didn't with the scenes shown to us, then we believe as such.

Aside from all of this, we also can thank Cobb giving up this dream world when he kills Mel as soft evidence as well for the idea that he woke up. Lemme explain, so he killed Mel because he had to let her go. The reason she existed in his mind was due to his regret, sorrow, and refusal to let go of her. When he finally tells her the truth, regardless if she's the real Mel or not, he's also in a way telling his subconcious, because she's a product of his mind. He's in a way reminding him and telling her that they already lived a life together, and it was beautiful. That he made a mistake by experiementing on her, but it happened, and he can't take it back, so he has to let go of the regret in order to return home because otherwise it'll just continue to eat away at him. Him letting go of Mel and reciting the train line REALLY kick this home and make me believe more that he woke up because, why offer him closure if he can't even experience the closure. He lets her go so he can move on, and he does, he gets Saito and they travel back, him a changed man, and everyone else amazed they pulled it off.

Anyway, that's my tedtalk, thanks for coming.

So, I watched Inception, and I can see why everyone was so crazy about it. Really well done!

However, while I can also see why there are long endless debates about whether or not the ending is real, the answer is very simple:

It is real, because I want it to be, and also he deserves to be happy. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

[rebouks]

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Transcript:

[Wyatt flinches as Courtney’s palm collides with his cheek, though realises he should have expected as much]

Courtney: Sorry doesn’t cut it! What the hell is wrong with you?! Wyatt: I don’t know! It’s not like I want to be-… Courtney: You literally have no idea, do you?

Wyatt: I do! I just wanted to explain. Oscar: You’ve got ten seconds before I launch you down those fucking stairs. Wyatt: Uhm-.. what’s his name?

Oscar: Yeah, no. Wyatt: I never would’ve done it if I knew, why didn’t you say anything? Courtney: I didn’t know…

Oscar: It’s fucked up either way! Wyatt: I sent you somewhere you’d be safe on purpose, I-… Courtney: [scoffs] Safe-.. and what about everyone else, tough luck?

Wyatt: That’s not-.. Ash didn’t exactly tell me the whole truth, I thought they’d work for him. Oscar: Come off it, you could’ve guessed as much. Wyatt: I guess I ignored it because-.. well, I won’t bore you with the why; but I know it was wrong.

Oscar: Yet you carried on regardless. Wyatt: I’ve tried to put things right. I came here for your sake, not mine; if you’d let me explain everything. Courtney: [sighs] Half an hour, max.

…

Wyatt: I’m not here for absolution. You started all this; I figured you deserved the whole story, and now you have it. Courtney: I could’ve handled Dale, you shouldn’t have-… Wyatt: You don’t know that, men like him-…

Oscar: Men like you. Wyatt: It’s true that I don’t experience emotion the same as others-.. it makes it easier to do terrible things, but there’s a reason behind every decision I make. I do have morals, they’re just extremely easy to ignore. In the future, I-…

Oscar: [scoffs] The future, as if you’ve got one. Courtney: Oscar, we can’t… [Oscar glares at Wyatt, then Courtney; returning the look, she motions toward the kitchen]

[quizzicalink]

Has dawn/akari gotten back to sinnoh by this time? Has she found out about Ingo?

Ah, I see Dawn's side of the story is in high demand...

Dawn never expected to see Ingo again, not really. She asked him if he wanted to come with her to the future (she was sure they where from around the same time period), and he declined, not wanting to lose the life he built in Hisui. She understood (maybe she should've confessed that SHE wanted him to go with her, but that would be selfish of her, wouldn't it?) and accepted his answer gracefully, hiding her sadness. (He was perhaps the only one in Hisui to truly understand what she was going through. What it was like to be a stranger in a strange land, where pokemon were seen as monsters rather than friends. He was a drop of familiarity, and perhaps that alone had made him more of a lifeline to her than either of them had realized. Didn’t hurt that he was so kind. Too kind for Hisui, in her opinion....)

(Reader be warned, angst ahead! Includes mentions of character death.)

Dawn went home and readjusted. She was fine, she had survived, she was home. Once she had explained where and when she had been for those five long months, she shelved her Hisui memories. It was all in the past, literally and metaphorically. She just wanted to move on and get back to her life... but the shock of everything she had been to was catching up to her, as was a deep sense of grief at all the friends she’d never get to see again. Dawn came to the conclusion that, perhaps, it would help to know how everyone ended up. Maybe seeing that everyone had gone on to live happy lives would give her a sense of closure that the goodbyes said in Hisui hadn’t.

It took a while, to track down all the life stories, but she found them. She saw the brilliant lives her friends had gone on to live, the feats they achieved and families they had (would it be weird to call up someone’s however-many-greats grandchildren and cite yourself as an old family friend?). Well, she found all stories but one. No matter where she looked, she couldn’t find much more than brief allusions to Ingo. A man who had briefly served as a warden of sneasler, sandwiched between two other sneasler wardens with much longer legacies. Dawn was... confused, but excited. Did this mean Ingo got to go home not long after she did? Could she find him? (Admit how much of a grounding presence he had been for her in Hisui?)

And then she found him.

But not the way she hoped.

He had fallen.

Off a cliff.

Ingo had died, mere months after her departure.

He had fallen off a cliff, died on impact, and his remains were dragged off by wild pokemon before anyone found him. (Or, at least, that’s what the pearl clan concluded, having only found his belongings surrounded by his frantic pokemon at the base of a cliff.)

And so survivors guilt wormed its way into her heart. (She should’ve convinced him to come with her. She shouldn’t have left him in that cruel place.) She knew, rationally, that this wasn’t her fault, but... but it felt like she could’ve prevented it. If she had just pushed a little harder.

Dawn never expected to see Ingo again, not really. She was fine (he wasn’t), she had survived (he hadn’t), she was home (he wasn’t). She would focus on those she had regained-- her mom, her pokemon, her friends; tune out the media circus; politely decline Barry’s offers to go gallivanting after some rumored zoroark in the woods (she had chased after enough pokemon for one life time, thank you); and simply... live. As best she could.

And when she walks down stairs one morning and sees the grainy image of a zoroark wearing an all-too-familiar hat on the television, she does not scream. She does not cry. She calmly calls up Professor Rowan and asks if he needs help researching the new pokemon.

Could she find Ingo? With the help of a man in white with a painfully familiar face, she just might.

[abbyheilman]

The blonde could remember the shock she'd felt when he told her about the fact that he'd cheated. They'd fought here and there, bickered about the club and her worries. Most of it was because she was frightened that he would get hurt, perhaps jealous that his time was divided, but she'd never expected that it would end with infidelity. Not after all the years they'd been glued at the hip, the way they'd fallen deeply in love as friends and more. It felt like a joke and she'd all but forced him to admit that he was lying. The coldness from him that followed was almost a betrayal on its own. A means to get her to believe, she supposed. What else was she meant to do when she stared at shell of the person she knew and cared about, other than take her things and leave. Days and weeks had gone by with her in bed, hoping he'd come back and plead for her forgiveness. It wouldn't have taken much. Frankly, all she wanted was him despite everything. He never came and she did her best to glue herself back together but it had taken her this long to know that she wasn't over it. There hadn't been any closure to the history they shared. Without that, she would always be stuck here, with this heavy anger clinging to her chest. "I don't know if I should be disappointed or just surprised that I never saw the side of you that you were hiding from me since we were kids."

The Nash she knew wouldn't have ever hurt her. Never would she have done anything to cause him pain either so the idea that this had all happened was still one she had trouble wrapping her head around. Even harder was the mixed signals; from no longer talking, and then to a short conversation and him offering to take care of her in ways that only he could. While she'd ultimately taken the money, their interaction hadn't been good, by any means. The wall was only a bittersweet reminder of how far they were from those days as children. "You've made your decision?" She wanted to laugh but all she could do was cry. It never felt like she had enough tears to cry over him, having wasted so many in the past that she was always surprised that she could continue. "You've made many decisions and none explain keeping that there." He wasn't all to blame. Perhaps she'd pushed him into someone else's arms, maybe she'd broken up with him and he'd taken that as her never wanting to speak to him again. But she'd punished herself enough over it and losing him had been just another consequence. Grabbing the sharpie from him, she took off the cap and moved to the wall but as the tip met the corner of his name, she knew she couldn't. Rather, her first passed through the dry wall a few inches above their names. It ached but it was a welcomed feeling compared to everything else that lived in the pit of her stomach. The black sharpie fell under the table and she slid back, putting much needed distance between them in fear that she would swing at him next.

"I was emotional when I said that. I hadn't talked to you in years." The girl argued even though she'd felt every word she told him that night. Why she'd shown up tonight, that was more complicated. Despite their interaction being bad, she craved more time with him even if it would only break her heart in the end. "Stop," she spoke harshly with her hand up, finger pointed towards him. "Don't you dare make it seem like you were doing me some type of favor by doing what you did. I wasn't a kid and I didn't need you to decide who and what was good for me. I was perfectly safe." At least until he joined the club but she didn't have to say that out loud for him to know. "—Until a few days ago and suddenly you can come and save me from dancing on a pole, right? So where's your rule now, huh? Why am I suddenly not better off and need your help?" The confusion plagued her after feeling small glimpses of him within reach but still he was so far. The confusion of the ease in which he could walk away, or so she felt, because her own emotions were so visible while his were not. "A better conversation than the last, by doing what? Showing off the way that we used to be compared to how we are now? How does that make it any fucking better? You want to reminisce on the good times and then watch me walk away. I guess that it's always been easy for you to do that, but how do you think it affects me? I've always watched you walk away from me. It's always you who leaves. Like everyone else in my life." When they broke up, every time in between then and now. Her back pressed against the wall of his office when he voiced words she hadn't even expected to hear from him again. A slight reminder that things were real once upon a time. "Then why did you do it?! Just tell me." Grabbing a nearby stapler, she impulsive picked it up and tossed it at his head though it missed by a few inches. "You don't need to solve anything but your guilt! I haven't been able to move on since it happened. I've been carrying this confusion and pain. You fucked me up for every single person after you and you refused to even explain it to me. I need to understand it so I can leave you behind!" She found herself screaming, only realizing she'd crossed the office to shove at his chest. "I needed you when my dad died, every other time when my life went to shit but you weren't there! You promised you'd always be there. You disappeared and never looked back and never told me why."

His senses. If only it had been that easy. He would be lying if he hadn't thought about coming clean with the whole ordeal. About not cheating, just wanting to have her back in any way he could. But they were just moments. Nash knew within his soul what he did -yes completely heartbreaking and shattering. It was only a slight inconvenience of what could happen with his involvement. He could not put her at risk. Therefore, any doubt he had - he pushed it harshly down. She was better off without him. So, that decision was final and after all these years he never looked back at it. "Another thing to be disappointed about. I'm sure that list will only go on." He mused, sighing again since her arrival. The most tragic thing was he knew how his presence effected her. Her anger from him and what had transpired between them. Anger is an acid that can do more harm to the vessel in which it is stored than to anything on which it is poured. Yes it hurt him too, but no words or actions she could partake against him could damage him more then how much pain it caused her. The toll it took on her through his eyes. Maybe he was naive to think that she would forget him eventually. That he would just be another person that she could laugh about that was from her past. But seeing her again for the second time, well he was just plain ignorant. That their past still was so powerful and meaningful. It was impossible to forget those good times, even when it had been poisoned with most recent bad ones.

"Is there where you call me a coward? If so - have at it." He challenged. The description wouldn't be anything he hadn't thought about himself during the nights where his mind was rampant and feral. Nash was almost shocked upon hearing the footsteps behind him. He wouldn't have put it against her to just leave while she could. Especially with the lack of backstory from his words. Though, upon her seeing it - seemingly enough maybe he was naive again to think this could be a temporary white flag he could throw for them. Nash took the sharpie and shook his head at the suggestion or more like an order. He couldn't blame her. Instead, he put the sharpie down. "If you want to cover it, I won't stop you. But that has to be your decision. I already made mine." This place held so many memories and he knew even if everything was transformed into something fresh, in regards to some aesthetic - he would still have those. But this little doodle represented something that he wasn't ready to quite let go of. Nash had only realized it was still there after cleaning. Boxes had been piled up against that wall so the scribble had been hidden, far back as he could remember. But once he had unloaded and cleared them - it was like he was transported back to that time all over again.

"I'm trying here. You showed up remember? I was more then content with avoiding you. I'm a pro at that. You didn't want to ever see me again. Or am I just imagining our outburst back at the club?" There was sarcasm, but he was almost offended that he was receiving this kind of backlash when he was trying to be kind, or to the best he could considering their dynamic now. "Whether you want to believe me or not I have always cared. Dammit, Abby. I never stopped caring. I just thought you were better off. You deserved way more then what I could provide." His lips trembled, the man just wanted to shield her from everything. He needed her to be safe and he figured the safest she could be was away from him back then. But now, her emotions and all the agony she was conveying - it made his heart ache. The man needed to distance himself from her at that very moment, afraid he would reach out and try to comfort her. But realizing that he could break her even more by that sort of action. He needed to create space also from not pouring his own heart out to her. The truth would not set him free. "I wasn't trying to get any kind of reaction out of you. There are no motives. I am just trying to make this interaction better then our last. You think you're the only one who is hurting? I am too." And he had been. "I hurt you, and I am reminded of that more often then you could ever know." His words genuine but they were strained, like he was holding something back. His own emotions or he at least tried to keep them at bay. Try being the key word here. "I loved you with all of me. If you ever believe in something, believe in that." His earlier words had trembled out but those two sentences didn't. They held strong just as genuine as they truly were. But he shook his head suddenly. "It doesn't matter why. It's not going to miraculously solve anything." Nash had hoped with all the avoiding he had done in the past, it would at least take away from him having to lie to her again. But it seemed like the biggest lie he had ever told was making it's comeback. So, here he was trying to shake off her question instead.

[ddarker-dreams]

Epiphany. Yan Albedo x Reader

Warnings: General yandere themes, implied unhappy previous relationship, and spoilers for Albedo’s story. Word count: 2k.

It wasn’t fair. 

A snowstorm, unlike anything you’ve ever seen rages outside, shards of lustrous ice falling from the sky with the intent to kill. The Dragonspine’s traditionally somber ambiance contorts into something far more sinister. Numerous hues of grays and dark blues blur together, obscuring your view of the mountainous region. It’s difficult to see anything outside Albedo’s workshop save for the storm. 

“Your shaking won’t stop unless you sit by the fire.” 

His matter-of-fact declaration startles you. Albedo hadn’t spoken in some time, his attention devoted to a specimen he had discovered prior to the storm. You would’ve shared in his enthusiasm if not for the overall situation and company. Sighing reluctantly, you stand from your spot, hugging yourself to stave off the biting cold. It’s impossible to settle on which is worse: staring at the blizzard or staring at him. 

Albedo���s fair skin glows from the light of the crackling fire, sandy blonde hair tousled around his face without care. As he studies the new specimen, his lips purse, eyes focusing on nothing but the work before him, like nothing else mattered. This is how you’ve always known him to be. Even if the world was falling apart around him, Albedo would never falter from what catches his interest until he felt sated. 

Sensing how you’re fixating on him, his attention flickers briefly to you, an unidentifiable emotion gleaming in his eyes. You’re the one to avert your gaze first. Sucrose is going to owe you majorly for this one, why did you even accept her request in the first place? Thinking about it now and cursing your past self does nothing yet you still occupy the time by doing just that. She had come to you panicked, pleading that you take this letter to Albedo in the Dragonspine, claiming it’s urgent. In the heat of the moment, your judgment lapsed and you caved. She spoke of needing to continue her research in Mondstadt or else she would’ve done it herself.

Look where your goodwill has gotten you now, you think. She owes me a week’s worth of dinner. 

You lament giving credence to his advice, but your stubbornness concedes, the cold too miserable to withstand any longer. The fire is right by his side to add insult to injury. Did he do that on purpose to spite you? It’s unlikely, yet your mind wanders to the worst-case scenario. If any other citizen of Mondstadt were privy to your suspicious thoughts, they’d think you unreasonable, as Albedo has established his reputation well. He’s a known eccentric, sure, but a genius one. A few quirks on his behalf that anyone else could overlook. 

Quirks that you used to overlook yourself.

“Would you please grab my bag,” he doesn’t look away from his prized sample but motions to the general area it’s in. “I need to write down my observations.” 

You follow through with what he asks. There was a time you’d have been over the moon to participate in his process, you used to practically trip over yourself to do anything he needed. That enthusiasm has long died off and been replaced by apathy. It’s when he reaches out to take the bag from you that you snap from your trance-like reverie. Whatever remnants of obedience that lingered in your subconscious are brushed away, as you decide to finally challenge him.

Inhaling sharply, you hold the bag just out of his reach, finally earning his recognition for more than a millisecond. 

“I’m not your assistant anymore.” Among other things, you think. 

The words come out more childish than you intended. What you had meant to communicate was your new, critical view on him — he’s a person just the same as anyone else — who held no authority over you. You hold your breath awaiting his response. Albedo doesn’t have an intimidating presence, not in the traditional sense. It’s his mind that you’re wary of. There’s no guessing what sentiments run through his head, yet that’s never stopped you from trying to unravel the mystery that is his thought process.

He gives you a long, hard stare. “I’m aware of that.” 

Where were you going with this again? Albedo doesn’t need to point out your needlessly spiteful behavior with words, his mildly irate facial expression says it just fine. His thin eyebrows threaten to furrow together and the corners of his lips curl down into a frown. You’re unsure of what bothers him more. What you pointed out, or that his work is being interrupted for even the slightest moment. 

The budding confidence you had is all but crushed beneath the weight of his unblinking gaze. Clearing your throat, you decide to take a new approach, straightening your posture in an attempt to be taken more seriously.

“Then tell me, why do you still act like I am?” Your question comes from a genuine place of confusion. Ever since your arrival, you’ve begrudgingly done the odds and ends he’s asked of you, almost like clockwork. You had fallen back into the rhythm that was your life up until a month ago. There was just something about the silent authority he carries that makes it impossible to say no. 

That is, until now. You’re determined to clear up the problems that have plagued your mind. Albedo’s had his time to be nonchalant like nothing happened between you two, but you’re not having it anymore. 

“Force of habit,” he nods his head towards your hand that holds his possessions captive. “Now, would you please…?” 

Your grip tightens and you shake your head defiantly. “No. Or at least, not until you give me a better explanation. Not just about that. How you act in general… none of it makes sense to me.” 

It wouldn’t take much effort from his half to wrangle his bag from you, you’ve seen him in action before after all, so it comes as a surprise when he instead gives in. You blink, gaping when he takes a seat by the roaring fire, and motions for you to do the same. An opportunity like this is hard to come by. The past few weeks, it’s been your code of conduct to avoid any interaction with Albedo, but your frustration can no longer be repressed. 

You take a seat by his side but intentionally leave some distance. 

There’s so much you want to say. Insults, questions, demands, anything. Anything that could give just a hint of closure that he refused to offer himself. It doesn’t help that this familiar area brings memories with it — good and bad alike — painful nostalgia eating away at your heart from the inside out. While you battle with your inner thoughts, he observes you in silence. For a time you hear nothing but the crackling of the fire and wind howling outside.

Finding the courage to speak up, your throat tightens as you force a question out. “Did I… mean so little to you?” 

It’s rare that Albedo ever looks taken aback, but your inquiry managed to do just that. His eyes widen ever so slightly, confusion etching onto his face before he manages to compose himself. Lots of intimate discussions had gone this way. You’d spend hours prepping yourself, meticulously going over what it was you wanted to say, only for the words to die on your tongue when you saw him. 

“I don’t understand what you mean.” He appears genuinely perplexed and you can’t help but feel silly. It may have served you better to think long about this, you realize, but now it’s too late. You rush to explain yourself in hopes of making better sense. 

“When I said I wanted to, er, part ways,” you can’t help but cringe at not knowing the proper label for ending whatever was going on between you two, “You just seemed, I don’t know, indifferent…?” 

In your head, this went down in such a different way. 

Your cheeks are set ablaze by the humiliation his silence brings. It’s not the first time you’ve felt this exact way when bringing up your feelings to Albedo, yet it’s just as awful. Archons, does he always have to look at you like you have three heads? 

When he finally gives you an answer, you wish you had never asked. 

“I knew you would come back to me eventually.” 

Now it’s your turn to give him an incredulous look. He says it without an ounce of hesitation, never once breaking eye contact, his resolve holding firm. Sensing a need to clarify, he attempts to do just that. 

“I considered a variety of variables,” he raises his hand and brushes his knuckles over your face, the unexpected tenderness making you shiver. “I know how your mind works very well. When you told me that’s what you wanted, your physical mannerisms didn’t line up with what you were saying.”

Your heart drops but he doesn’t stop there. 

“Biological responses never lie. It wasn’t anxiety that kept you from looking me in the eye then, it was reasonable doubt. You know it as well as I do. There’s something about me that you can’t place, and the natural human response to the unknown is caution.”

He stops caressing your cheek. “So, tell me [First], and maybe then you’ll reach the conclusion you’ve been searching for. Why are you afraid of me?”

Everything feels wrong. How he’s whispering such horrifying ideas into your mind, leading the conversation with expertise. Is it charisma? You don’t think that’s the proper word. No, it’s how damn certain he is, how he never once leaves room for argument. 

Albedo appraises your silence coldly. 

“See? You’re not sure yourself. Thus why I knew you’d return to me,” he retracts his hand and leans back, but the ghost of his touch leaves your face tingling. “When you don’t understand something, you study it. That’s who you are. It’s why I picked you to be my assistant, that quality of exhausting curiosity, much like the one I have myself.”

He’s hypnotizing you with his words, his even tone, his silent authority. You’re drawn in like a moth to a flame and trapped in a verbal standoff. Whether it was a result of your Vision flickering subconsciously resulting in the fire diminishing or some other cause, you realize what little warmth in the cave is disappearing, your breath materializing in front of you as a result. 

But it’s only yours. 

That’s when it clicks deep inside the recesses of your mind. Apart of what always bothered you about Albedo was this sense of uncanniness. Whenever you thought you were understanding him better, new mysteries would arise, leaving you worse off than when you started. This combined with his workload and the emotional distance you felt between the two of you is what led to your separation. 

Albedo’s face is but a few inches away from yours. He’s patiently awaiting a response or anything you could muster to challenge him with, though both of you are aware that no such thing exists. 

You manage to surprise him again by asking another question. “Why… why are you not breathing?”

And how could you never have noticed until now?

His long eyelashes flutter shut. “Relationships truly are troublesome. There are unspoken rules and expectations, both of which take effort to satisfy. I hadn’t mind trying to do so to keep you happy, but that approach didn’t work as intended.” 

Had it not been for the hammering of your heart and how lighthearted you feel, you’d challenge him on his definition of trying. Instead, you watch without so much as moving an inch, too in awe to utter a single word. 

“You always asked me to be more romantic, but I guess the phrase you take my breath away won’t suffice here,” he sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I’ll tell you, but once you know… well, I don’t think I can ever let you leave my side.”

“I hope you won’t mind keeping me company a bit longer than you intended to.” 

[firerwolf]

So I played the final chapter of Asassin’s Creed Valhalla and I have to echo what a lot of people have said on it. It doesn’t feel like it was enough, that all the goodbyes were lack luster, that most people you care about weren’t said goodbye to, it feels more like a setup for Mirage rather than caring about Valhalla, it feels like they were just trying to rush a close to Valhalla, and the ending reason for why Eivor leaves is just dumb.

I’ll start with the goodbyes. So most of them are more used to give a time frame for when Eivor leaves than actually say goodbye to characters. For the fandom there’s a list of people that they would expect to say goodbye to. Who would be on that list? Sigurd, Randvi, Valka, Hytham(if you don’t work for Ubisoft because they hate him), Gunnir, maybe Tove. I assume Villi would be excluded just because of how differing his paths are based on your choice in game so i’m not putting him on the list. Now consider those you do say goodbye to. Guthram, Aelfred, King Harold in Norway, and there’s a non-goodbye with Hytham(though it does give me fodder for Eagle-kissed). And a lot of these they have to spell out how many years it has been since events of the game and that feels like the only purpose. So most of the people you’d want to have an emotional goodbye with you don’t get. Even Hytham’s scene isn’t really a goodbye and it falls sort of flat on actually making it seem like Eivor wasn’t just as callus and dismissive of Hytham as she knows nothing about him and has spent years with him in her clan. I, like plenty of others, found this to just be missing the heart of what people wanted from the final chapter. I wanted to have a time skip, see if Gunnir ever has kids, if Randvi ever travels, If Sigurd is better particularly after the Dawn of Ragnarok DLC seemed to make it seem like he wasn’t, what became of Hytham’s trip and new title which are still never explained and seem like they are historically important to the series over all. I also feel for those that romanced Randvi, she wasn’t even included, though I suspect this is because in the Druid and France DLCs it seemed like they didn’t have the same voice actress and it was noticeable and they wanted to avoid that she still deserved to be more than just mentioned offhandedly.

The lack of emotional heart is why people feel like the last chapter was really just to push Valhalla out the door. It doesn’t feel like a though out end that gave players closure, it seemed to all be a means to an end to stop Eivor’s story and to do the final scene where Basim puts his DNA into the animus decoder to set up Mirage. In a way that feels like a slap in the face. The people that wanted this last chapter were the fans that loved the game and story and to have it be shoved out the door to suit the next game instead of given the care people expected from such a loved game feels insulting.

The end reason for why Eivor leaves also feels sort of...confusing. The idea that after the Valhalla events she hasn’t actually banished Odin from her but instead he’s just still there, being suppressed and for some reason, even though she expressly rejected him and his offer of wisdom she decides she wants to learn from him...for no purpose. She basically is abandoning her clan to go to Vindland and talk to Odin and learn from him for no reason. Because nothing he tells her is ever passed on. It’s stuff that no one knew until Desmond is told it in the Ezio games...but no one knew it until those games. So she abandons her clan to gain knowledge to help no one and do nothing. The last chapter is that, the last chapter, and she runs off alone. So after Dawn of Ragnarok where she says her clan is all that matters and protecting and keeping them safe is all that matters she then just peaces out to not help them any more. There’s no mention of who will lead after her, what will happen to her clan, she just abandons them sort of spitting in the face of the main game. It also seems like lazy writing. Like she just leaves, also in the middle of the night not like after a goodbye feast or something when everyone is drunk and passed out, she just packs up a boat and goes to Lunden to leave from there and it’s just...it feels bad.

Now I’m to the Hytham ranting part. So the part where Eivor converses with Hytham is...it was disappointing as a Hytham fan. It gave you shreds of Eivor being nice to Hytham, complementing him for his compassion and conviction, but it felt so...hollow. Like it was there more because the writers realized that they had basically never really had an Assassin story in Assassin’s Creed Valhalla. Sure you kill the Order but the Creed and the Hidden Ones are never really explored. Eivor is offered to join the Hidden Ones but at no point has Hytham and Eivor talked about what his creed means and what he’s really asking her to join. The entire scene comes off as if the writers just realized they never had Eivor even say anything about the creed or her views of it so her goodbye to Hytham is more a confirmation that the Creed is good without ever even addressing what it is. Hytham was never given an arc, not with Eivor or with Basim which makes Eivor finding out trivial facts about Hytham like that he was orphaned at a young age sort of a back handed slap instead of a nice moment. Like if Eivor cared about Hytham at all why is she just learning, like a decade after meeting him, that he has no family because he’s an orphan like her? It makes her come off as uncaring toward a person she worked with and is a part of her clan as Basim was and he clearly didn’t care about Hytham. He dropped his ass the moment he got to England and never talked to the man again. And apparently a decade later Eivor has never really talked to Hytham either. Really makes her claim that she cares about him after she turns down the offer to join the Hidden ones seem like really empty words.

It personally annoys me that they really had like a document saying he was going to be promoted and they bring up in the over world that Edward named Haythem after Hytham but then they just cared so little about the character and assumed no one else would that they have actively just ignored him like an emotionally abusive parent. Was Hytham the first mentor of the English Brotherhood that Edward would eventually lead? It would explain why he named his son after him, but Ubisoft doesn’t give to shits about answering that question. So the scene with him comes off just insulting to those that are his fans. Eivor isn’t talking to Hytham as a person, she’s talking to him as just someone that follows the Creed. She basically is just praising the Creed because it is in service of all people, not just a select few that a person closely cares about. But in the end she’s not talking to Hytham as Hytham. If she was talking to Hytham why not mention how even with his injury he is still so dedicated to doing his part? Why not mention about how he’s trying to train others to allow them the agency to protect from the Order as well? Why not mention that she believes he is going to build something that will keep her people and England safe? She doesn’t because she’s not talking to Hytham. And to see Hytham, the character, so erased is aggravating when the scene should have been a heartfelt goodbye.

I just consider if you were a new player and Valhalla was your first AC game. The Hidden Ones would exist but you���d have no understanding of them, or what they believe in, or really what their place is in the world. You get some feeling for what they’re fighting, stopping the order and all, but you don’t get any actual Hidden Ones that explains why the Assassin’s are liked by fans. Why the Creed is so key to the series. Because you’re never told the Creed at all. Fuck Hytham doesn’t even have a like document in his hut that’s like a recruitment sheet that like lays out the Creed so new players can learn it.

[vigilant-cleric]

At Cornelius' suggestion, Ashen offered a small smile, conscious of the contradiction in his decision. "You know... you would be right. Maybe it's best kept out of sight. But it's not like I can forget it. To me, it serves as a reminder that looks may not be what they seem." He sighed, gesturing vaguely towards the framed letter. "Elturel was the most righteous city to be found this side of the Sword Coast, law, order and justice were its motto. But it cast me away like a criminal in thanks for my service. In doing so they have behaved in a worse manner than many truly evil opponents I have met, who at least respected my might in battle."

Perhaps this explained his fast acceptance of Cornelius' lich form. A terrifying form, certainly, but he knew that beneath was his friend, his dear friend, and that underneath some handsome paladins' armours laid the seed of something more terrible than any lich.

The next question seemed to surprise him, as if he had never considered it. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He had considered it, sometimes. But like one considers a far-away dream, something out of the realm of possibilities. He looked away for a brief moment, gathering his thoughts, his conflicted feelings.

"Elturel does not want me back. I would feel terrible returning to a place where I am unwanted. But..."

That 'but' hung in the air, longer than what was comfortable.

"Years ago, I took up a shovel among the gravestones of Elturel, and there I buried Rheighar, my best friend." The end of his sentence seemed to catch on his tongue. He had mentioned him before, but it was obvious, even then, that there was more to it.

"No. No, that's not right. We were lovers. At least, I loved him. I don't know if he ever..."

He could not continue any further without losing his words. He switched to another thought instead.

"I would like to visit him. One last time. I did not get closure... ever since he died fighting in Elturel."

There was something deeply changed in his voice. He had told Cornelius many terrible stories of Avernus before, but never like this. It was not just another story of death - it was his breaking point. The single moment of his life where everything went downhill - the last strike that broke his weary soul, that made him question whether there was anything left to live for.

the wizard is silent while he studies the framed letter, reading the contents carefully. his arms are folded behind his back as he remains unmoving, letting the silence of the office hang in the air. atonement, forgiveness, seeking it or giving it; cornelius understands these things and understands still the mortal need for closure. ( after all, is he not human some of the time? ) he cannot put himself in ashen's boots nor could he even begin to guess but he could still offer his sympathy. " would it not be beneficial to your health to keep it out of sight? " he asks, voice softer than usual.

a nobody... cornelius cannot explain why the specific comment draws his ire so much. not aimed at his friend, of course, but at those wolves that seemed to have convinced his friend that he be nothing more than a lamb when he knows the man to be anything but. " it is unfortunate that someone must be blamed and that fault fell on you, as you say, poor fools. "

he studies the letter and frame a few seconds longer before finally turning to address ashen. the usual curiosity burning in his eyes behind his frames, carefully fixed where they sit on the bridge of his nose. his next question asked as if one might be talking about the weather though the suggestion is anything but. he stares, unblinking, gaze fixed upon ashen's face. " have you thought about going back? to see your home even from a distance? " or does it weigh too heavy on your heart, my friend?

[griffintail]

Hey Griffin I love your work, your writing is amazing, and I was wondering if I could spare you an angsty request: Parental Tommy falls into deep grief after their child, Reader, goes into prison to tell Dream off for blowing up their home and hurting their father and Uncle Tubbo, and gets killed by Dream. Maybe how Wilbur and Schlatt react to Reader in the afterlife, and what Tommy does to try and get them back. (Inspired by this week's streams)

I went farther than with this than I planned to originally. Lol. Thank you and I hope you enjoy!

Quiet Uptown

Pairings: Parental! Tommy x Teenage F! Reader

Warnings: Death, Blood, Mentions of Violence, Angst!!, afterlife, swearing

A/N: (F/L) is first letter of your first name because that’s just a Tommy thing.

        Sam hesitated when (Y/N) had stepped into his prison that day.

        The young sixteen-year-old girl stood there; her eyes filled with determination as she waited for Sam to speak.

        “What are you doing here?” Sam asked, standing up. “Does Tommy know you’re here?”

        “No.” She answered truthfully. “He won’t realize I’m gone for maybe two hours. He wouldn’t ever let me near here but I want to give Dream a piece of my mind after everything he’s put my family through. Dad and I both own only one life after everything he’s one and I want to let him know how badly he lost.”

        “I…Don’t think this is wise. You’re just a kid.”

        “I’m more than a kid! Everyone seems to forget I fought for Pogtopia at the age of thirteen and lost a life for it. I went and helped dad every day in his exile when no one else would! Dream killed me for that bullshit and I refuse to let him think he has control over me and my family anymore.”

        Sam could see it was more than that. She wanted to know that Dream no longer held control over her and her family. Dream had taken everything from them. Their nation, their family members, their two spare lives, their friends. Now he was locked away after Tommy won and she needed to know he couldn’t control them anymore.

        “Alright. Well, I need you to read this carefully and sign it.” Sam slipped into his role as Warden.

        He walked (Y/N) through the clearance steps and lead her down through the prison.

        Dream was a broken man. Sam made sure his spirit was broken and the masked man had long since stopped trying to escape. The poor young girl needed closure.

        …Sam was overconfident in his abilities.

        “If you need anything, call for me,” Sam told her and she nodded.

        And she was let into the cell.

        The man of the hour was surprised by his visitor, picking himself off the floor as he grinned behind his mask.

        “Well, well, well. It’s little Innit.”

        “Shut up.” (Y/N) immediately said. “You’ll listen to me today.”

        Dream held up his hands, giving a laugh. “Alright. Let’s hear what you have to say.”

        (Y/N) looked around the small cell and was reminded of her father’s claustrophobia…that Dream caused.

        “It’s fitting for you to be in here. Trapped in a box. Your life thrown in a hole, waiting to be destroyed.” (Y/N) said. “You did a lot to my family Dream, you hurt them, you killed them. There are people out there that say you don’t deserve this but I know everything you’ve done. You’re going to rot in here forever if it’s the last thing I do.”

        “You’ve got a pretty big ego there.”

        “You’re one to talk! You took everything from us because you couldn’t handle that we took away even a bit of your power!” She took a deep breath to calm herself and Dream saw the Tommy in her. “You tried to kill Tubbo, you were going to used what everyone loved against them. You’re a psychopath and you can’t be let out.”

        “People can change though. I can change and get out.”

        “You’ll never change! You’re talking bullshit and I know! Dad knows it! Sam, Tubbo, Quackity! You’re just bullshit! You’re a green little bitch and you’ll never get out! You can’t hurt us anymore. We’re in control now and we’re free from you forever.” She told him, getting in his masked face without thinking.

        She never meant to go so far into the cell…Sam had asked her not to…

        Dream’s grin turned wicked, (Y/N) unable to see it but she felt something in the air change and she paled slightly as she took a step back towards the netherite barrier realizing how far she went.

        “I might not be able to hurt anyone…outside!”

        “SAM!” She screamed, bolting for the barrier…but Dream was faster…

        “DREAM! DON’T!!” Sam commanded as he tried to bring the lava down as fast as he could! …

        …

        “Come on Tubbo. You’re getting shit at this.” Tommy laughed as he knocked Tubbo’s wooden training sword out of his hand.

        “You’re such an arse.” Tubbo huffed, going over to get some water.

        Tommy grinned. He had missed this, just being to train with Tubbo for the hell of it. (Y/N) said she needed to do something Ranboo, so it felt like he was missing something during the training but he was glad to know she was able to go out in the world without him worrying. Dream wasn’t out there anymore.

        The taller man was practicing his swings when Tubbo heard both their walkies beep. Someone must be calling them. Tubbo picked up his walkie, going to answer but his eyes went wide as he saw why the walkie had beeped. He dropped it, taking a step back, making Tommy look over in confusion.

        “What’s wrong with you?” Tommy asked, going over to see what it was.

        “T-Tommy, don’t—” Tubbo started but Tommy had already picked up the walkie.

        Tommy entire world stopped as he stared at the words on the screen.

        (Y/N) was slain by Dream

        “This—This is a stupid fucking joke.” Tommy tried to say, looking at Tubbo.

        But Tubbo had both his hands over his mouth as he was already starting to cry.

        “She…He’s in prison!” He shouted as he went for his own walkie. “This is shit joke Tubbo!”

        He couldn’t breathe as his walkie displayed the same message. It felt like the world around him was getting smaller as he couldn’t think of anything but those five words.

        “It’s not true!” Tommy screamed before snatching up his gear.

        He ran out the door to find it raining. His trident came off his back and was soaring through the air after throwing it through the rain. There was no fucking way, she was with Ranboo! Dream was rotting in a cell! He made sure of it!

        His baby should be as safe as she could be!

        Mud splashed all over him as he landed in front of the prison complex, soaking wet but he felt so numb. He couldn’t feel anything. He didn’t care about anything else, he just wanted to know who was playing this cruel joke.

        “SAM!” Tommy stormed in.

        Sam clutched the figure to him as he made his way past the empty prison cells hearing Tommy’s voice.

        He failed…

        This was all his fault…

        Sam stared at the last door where Tommy shouted his name again before taking a deep breath and opening it.

        Tommy snapped his head over and his entire world collapsed as Sam held the bloody figure in his arms. Their blood was coating Sam’s armor along with their own clothes.

        “No, no…NO! NO!!” Tommy shouted as he gripped his head taking a step back.

        That couldn’t be her, it just couldn’t be! She shouldn’t be here! She wasn’t here! It was all a…a dream…a nightmare!

        “Tommy.” Sam let out a heartbroken voice.

        Tommy looked up and looked to her neck. The (F/C) bandana was undeniable…

        Taking a shaky step forward, Tommy took the girl from Sam before collapsing to the ground, sobbing when he saw what Dream had done to her. He rocked, back and forth as he held her close.

        “Please…please little (F/L)…come back to me. I’m here now.” Tommy choked out his words as he stared down at the bloody girl. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here. Please come back (Y/N).”

        He put his forehead on hers as his tears stained her face.

        He let out a heartbroken scream!

        And it echoed all throughout the prison, making Dream’s maniacal laughter continue in his cell.

        …

        “Who’s this?” A voice asked.

        (Y/N) groaned at the feeling of a pounding headache before looking up.

        “(Y/N), I didn’t expect to see you here first.” She heard a much more familiar voice.

        She looked up seeing her Uncle Wilbur grinning at her.

        “W-Wilbur?”

        “Ayup.” He chuckled. “Nice to see you again kid.”

        “Where…Where…” She looked around at the darkness, startling when she saw the familiar ram man and scooted away. “Schlatt.”

        “Hey, brat. Nice to see you again.” He grinned. “Welcome to the afterlife.”

        “I’m…I died?” Her breathing picked up.

        Her head started to hurt and she gripped onto it as she remembered. The blood…the pain…daddy save me!

        She startled feeling a hand on her shoulder, seeing it was Schlatt as Wilbur stood there with his hands in his coat.

        “Yeah, it’s going to be pretty hard.” Wilbur shrugged. “We’ll…show you around.”

        Wilbur laughed as Schlatt rolled his eyes.

        “Come on brat.” He offered her a hand. “We’ll explain it all to you.”

        …

        Tubbo was waiting at Tommy’s base, his own heart shattering seeing his best friend sniffling as he wiped away his tears while covered in blood.

        “No.” Tubbo breathed.

        Tommy couldn’t think at the moment. The world seemed unreal. He couldn’t feel the rain hitting his body or the cold starting to set into him.

        “My little girl’s gone Tubbo.” He muttered.

        “I’m so sorry Tommy. What…what happened?” Tubbo asked.

        “I-I don’t know. I just…” Tommy put his hands through his hair, his breaths coming out short. “(Y/N)—She…Holy shit…My poor little (F/L)…”

        Tubbo came over putting his hands on Tommy’s shoulders. “Breathe Tommy.”

        “How?! My—She’s gotten! Beaten and blooded! She must have been terrified and I—I wasn’t there Tubbo!” Tommy shouted putting his hands over his face.

        “…What are you going to do?” Tubbo asked.

        Tommy rubbed his hands over his face. “I can’t think, I need…I need the night to get anything in me…”

        “Yeah, ok. I’ll stay.”

        “No, I…I really need some time alone right now,” Tommy told him.

        “…Ok. I’ll get a room at the hotel so I’ll be close by, ok?”

        “Yeah, alright,” Tommy muttered before pushing past into his house.

        Tubbo let tears roll down his cheeks before he looked at the prison, marching himself over.

        Tommy stood inside the house and…it felt so small and so quiet. He laughed bitterly to himself. Finally, it being quiet uptown made so much sense to him. Everything felt so dull and silent.

        Slowly, he went into his ender chest and pulled out his first disc. He stared down at it as he remembered finding (Y/N) after he found this disc. He ran a thumb over it as he remembered every time, he fought Dream for it till the final battle. He went to the bedroom, staring at the made bed across the room.

        He went to the jukebox and put the disc in as he sat on his bed staring at the empty one. His body broke down again as he cried into his hands.

        “If I had just kept the memories and you instead of this stupid disc you’d still be here!” He shouted to air. “I’m so sorry (Y/N)…I’m so sorry…”

        At the prison, Tubbo stormed in with a trident in hand.

        “What the hell happened?!” Tubbo demanded, Sam, sitting on his desk trying to process his own thoughts.

        “I was too late…” Sam muttered.

        “That answers nothing. What happened?!”

        “…She wanted to see Dream. She wanted closure after everything you’ve guys have been through…she was just a kid…and…”

        “Yeah, she was a kid, so why did you let her in?!”

        “Because she looked so broken. She wanted to see Dream couldn’t hurt her anymore. I-I-I thought I got the strength out of him! Then…she screamed for help…I tried to get in as fast as I could…he just laughed when I came in…”

        “…You shouldn’t have let her in.”

        Sam hung his low, knowing he was right.

        …

        (Y/N) sat watching the two men play solitaire.

        “Why’d you even go and see Dream?” Wilbur asked as he laid down an eight of spades on a nine of hearts.

        (Y/N) felt her throat tighten, it always making her feel weird when she did it past few days as she didn’t need to exactly breath.

        “I was having nightmares, Dream getting out and sit. I just…needed to see he was away, unable to hurt me.”

        Wilbur snorted and Schlatt punched him.

        “Shut the hell up man,” Schlatt told him.

        “Well, it obviously didn’t help, she’s here.” Wilbur rolled his eyes as Schlatt put down a five of diamonds. “And no punching, that’s round five.”

        (Y/N) breathing picked up and Schlatt huffed, throwing his cards down.

        “We’re not going to finish?” Wilbur questioned.

        “No, you’re driving us both nuts. Let’s go kid.” Schlatt hoisted her up and away, surprising her as that was the first time, he didn’t call her brat.

        (Y/N) glanced back seeing Wilbur continuing to play his game without them. She remembered Wilbur being insane before in Pogtopia. This was a whole new level.

        “We’ve been here for years,” Schlatt spoke, making her look at him. “He was nuts before; he’s even more fucked up now. I’m still more me because I’d rather sleep through this shit. You know the phrase I’ll sleep when I’m dead? That’s what I’m doing.” He grinned at his own joke.

        She snorted quietly, as she looked at her hands. “I just want to see my dad so bad…I lied to him as my last thing and…I miss him.”

        “I know kid. It’s hard for us to get down there though. I don’t even know how fuck face managed it.”

        “…Do you think he’s mad at me?” She asked.

        “No, I remember that stupid kid. If anything, someone probably had to hold him back, foaming at the mouth, from killing Dream himself with his bare hands. He wouldn’t be mad at you.”

        She smiled softly. She wished this had been president Schlatt and maybe everything would have been better. But Wilbur was right, L’Manberg needed to go, it corrupted everyone.

        …

        “Tommy,” Sam said as they stood in front of the lava wall.

        Four days had passed. Tommy had a funeral for his little girl and there had been gifts and tributes for her, but nothing made it, her. He felt like he was suffocating constantly and he couldn’t take it anymore. She had no ghost so Phil’s research would give him no help. But…there was one other thing.

        “You know what he’s going to ask for,” Sam spoke the obvious.

        “I know. He’s not going to get it.” Tommy said, his voice dead.

        Sam gripped the lever that would bring down the lava wall. “He hasn’t eaten in two days, he’ll be weak.”

        “Good. Now let me in.” Tommy stepped forward.

        Sam hesitated before pulling the lever. After a few minutes, Tommy was standing behind the netherite barrier. Dream grinned, his mask off as he stood up, holding his hands out.

        “The man of the hour! I’ve been waiting for you!” Dream laughed.

        The barrier dropped and Tommy walked in.

        “Bring her back.” Tommy simply stated.

        “Can’t without the book, you know what I’m going to need.”

        Tommy nodded, walking forward before hitting Dream with surprising force that sent him to the ground.

        “We’re…going to have a nice long chat,” Tommy told the surprised man in a monotone voice. “And it’s going to end with where you put that book or how to get my little girl back. So, let’s talk bitch.”

        Tommy would get her back. He wouldn’t let this be the end.

[mopillow]

there’s something i don’t get after this chapter.

for all we know, he tian was gone just as long- if not longer, or maybe not as long- as jian yi. and it sounds like there’s been just as little contact with mo like with zhen xi. 

Considering mo got to know he tian in such little time compared to zhanyi, tianshan just seem to be flowing by all these intense romance development breakthroughs right to this future chapter where they are practically screaming boyfriends (who live together now?) so between christmas to may, he’s seemed to move on and start a relationship(?) with tian.  

so why this development just between tianshan?

i’m not complaining by all means, but after a while, can we buy the “zhen xi needs time and is hurt?” part of it is my own frustration, of course, but thing is, we even saw how devastating tians absence was for mo and the toll it took on him by his state at the end of the christmas episode, so it’s not like mo couldnt have experience the same kind of pain and betrayal as zhan xi for “x” years.

is it bc zhanyi knew each other longer and it takes that much longer to heal?  even if it’s something only future chapters will reveal, the status of tianshan yesterday makes me more curious why the cold shoulder for our other babies

i’ve heard not many talk on these parallels, so if you don’t mind another long anon question, i’m very curious on your take!

Beloved anon you came to the right place, in this house we love to compare the couples… well not really but I don’t mind sharing my opinion at all so here we go, love the long question with so much detail

What is different in my opinion about the separation, even if is for the same amount of time apart, is that for starters TianShan will get some sort of closure and explanation about why they have to go different ways and although yes Mo is going to suffer he knows HT is not abandoning him, or at least that’s what I think since there’s nothing that suggests us that Mo is mad at HT in any single future chapter

now going back to ZhanYi

Jian Yi one day is just going to disappear and im almost certain that Jian Yi and his mama are going to go away other wise it makes no sense that JY one day is gone and ZZX doesn’t go and ask about what is happening, with HT and his brother gone he won’t suspect about brother Q taking him away so he’s just going to get left behind with no way of knowing what happened, I don’t think they’re going to explain to HT the plan so even if ZZX goes and ask Mo to ask HT the last one can give a believable answer, despair and sadness enter his life and then one day JY comes back out of nowhere just like the way he vanished and I don’t think this would have been a problem for ZZX if JY would have come back crying and pretending he doesn’t want anything more than friendship but

he came back with a “now or never” mentality, with no explanation, the one he tried to sell was a ridiculous one even if it was true and he waited until ZZX asked about it, so in my opinion this is why we see a big difference between the couples

I get the frustration but it makes sense that ZZX is offended at the fact that he gets no info before this guy tries to kiss and grab ass, he should be offered an explanation or a compilation of what in the world happened, even if JY was kidnapped he is the one who wants to win the guy not the other way around, maybe he wants to protect ZZX and probably forget about it but he has to realize that in the eyes of his friend he just went away leaving him behind, in the other couple’s case Mo doesn’t even has to ask pretty sure HT has a presentation ready for him, and that’s exactly why we see faster developments with them Anon, as soon as Jian Yi stops pretending that nothing happened, just like the time after he kissed ZZX, we’re gonna keep throwing pillows to the wall it’s infuriating because ZZX is already returning his feelings but if JY doesn’t say it clearly ZZX isn’t going to say it either, sucks isn’t it

[angryinternetduck]

yellow & blue

[not my pic] Hello and welcome to 2.7k words of pure angst! This doesn’t really have a purpose lol but it’s sad and angsty and features 2020 Brits Harry so why not!!! Have some depressed Harry, angelic reader, and yellow suits. Featuring Harry Styles x famous!reader. Inspired by Woman by Harry Styles, It Isn’t Right by the Platters, and When I Was Your Man by Bruno Mars (which should give you an idea of just how angsty this is lmao).

The first time he met you, Harry was wearing a yellow suit. The first thing you said to him was a compliment about it. That suit sparked a conversation, and that conversation sparked an interest, and that interest sparked the best two years of Harry’s life.

If Harry said he hadn’t thought about that suit while preparing for the 2020 Brits, he’d be lying.

The chatter of the table he’s at isn’t boring by any means, but it’s not anywhere near captivating enough to keep Harry’s attention on the conversation and off of you. He heard about your new boyfriend, of course - who hasn’t - but this is your first public appearance together and Harry is having just a little bit of trouble breathing.

It’s been four months. Four months since you broke up, three since the news went public.

As far as the public knew, the separation was mutual. As a brand new artist, you needed to take a second to find yourself as a person. As Harry Styles, the man the myth the legend, Harry needed to focus on his next album and possible future acting career. He also supported you in your decision, and knew that the two of you would, of course, remain the best of friends.

Most of that’s true. You only just released your second album - which is doing spectacularly, of course - and Harry really does need to get this next album done. But it wasn’t mutual. Harry doesn’t think any of his break ups have been truly mutual. You broke up with him. There isn’t really any getting around it. Not that the public has to know.

The problem is that Harry understands why you broke up with him. As heartbreaking as it is, he realizes what he did. He knows that he wasn’t a good boyfriend. He doesn’t really have an excuse, either; he can explain away his faults all he wants, but at the end of the day, you’re just too good for him.

Which makes it all the more depressing to watch you positively glow without him.

Part of him wants to go over and beg for your forgiveness. He wants to walk over and get on his knees and say, I love you with all my heart and I’ll never make another mistake again and I’ll love you forever and ever, please, please take me back, I’ll do anything.

Another part of him loves you too much to do that. Maybe you’re meant to be with this new guy. Maybe he’s your one, your only, the one worthy of all your love and attention. Maybe he’ll make you happy in ways Harry never did.

Because really, all Harry wants is for you to be happy. He wants you to glow like this all the time, to forget the feeling of sadness, to never cry a single tear again. He wants the only pain you ever feel to be an ache in your cheeks from all your smiling.

He just wishes he could be the one putting that smile on your face.

One thing he’s noticed is that your happiness seems to coincide directly with his. Whenever you’re happy, he’s happy. Not at the moment, actually, because you seem happy as a clam and Harry feels like his chest is caving in on itself, but whenever Harry thinks “happiness,” he thinks of moments with you. Of moments when you were happy. Moments when you were happy because of him, with him, for him.

He surprised you with a picnic one year for your birthday. He went all out, spreading a blanket down and everything, and the two of you drank wine, ate sandwiches and snacks out of a picnic basket, and talked in Harry’s back yard until after the sun came up.

Whenever Harry thinks “happiness,” that is the moment that pops into his head.

It wasn’t a loud sort of happiness, either. It wasn’t a bouncing on top of the world, adrenaline rushing through his blood, head pounding with excitement and joy and energy sort of happiness. He wasn’t breathless or wide eyed or buzzing with emotion.

No, this was a quiet happiness. It was the very definition of content. It was your head on his shoulder, your hand intertwined with his, your whispers of, “I love you,” the soft kisses exchanged as the sun set and the stars began to twinkle into the sky. It was your giggles at his jokes, your eyes brighter than the moon, softer than the wispy clouds suspended in air.

Harry’s getting a hollow ache in his chest just thinking about it. It hurts, really, because each of those memories, those days, those nights, carved a little hole in him and filled him with love and adoration and the purest happiness anyone’s ever experienced in the history of the world.

Now that you’re gone, that happiness has disappeared and all that’s left is a hollow, empty pit.

Since you’ve been gone, other memories have started creeping out of the shadows. These are different memories, memories of Harry’s failure and your disappointment and nights spent apart and tears sliding down your cheeks.

The problem with these memories is that it’s not a specific memory. It’s not one singular memory that Harry can turn over and over in his head and decide what went wrong. It’s not one thing that Harry can think about and solidify and apologize for.

It’s a whole bunch of things. It’s all the nights spent at the studio instead of with you. It’s all the last minute anniversary gifts and half hearted, distracted dinners, and all the forgetting of events and details. It’s the gradual falling away of random weeknight flowers, it’s the slow decline of hidden poems around the house he set out for you to find.

Well, maybe there is one thing. It might have been that one date night he cancelled. It was at the very end, during the knowing glances after frequent fights, after the slow, painful descent into acceptance but before the official conversation.

Dancing with the Stars had come on TV one night.

“Hey, I’m a star,” you murmured to him, curled up against him on the couch.

“Got that right,” Harry hummed, and you smiled up at him, and that smile made this night one of the good memories. “It should be just us two,” you told him, watching the pairs made up of one professional dancer and one celebrity dance on screen. “No professional.”

You giggled. “Yeah, we’re too good for them anyway.”

You took to dancing around the house after that night. Your dancing always brought a smile to Harry’s face. Funny how all you had to do was twirl, laugh, smile, breathe, and Harry would want to smother you in kisses and gift you his entire heart.

Sometimes you managed to rope him into it. Often you wouldn’t. Often, Harry would wake up to soft music playing in the kitchen, and he would walk in and see you dancing. He’d sip his coffee, and you would spin around and make up fancy footwork, and Harry would grin and blow you kisses and whisper, “I love you.”

He offered to take you dancing one night. He lay next to you in bed and traced his fingertips over your cheeks, lips, nose, and told you all about the night the two of you would have. He talked about live music and warm food and twinkling stars and dancing. You closed your eyes and smiled and hummed one of his songs, and Harry kissed you.

Then he got busy at the studio on the night you decided on. He stayed long. He called you. You didn’t pick up, because you were in the shower, getting ready for you big night. And you didn’t see the voicemail until after you were ready, until after you were sitting on the couch waiting for him, and when you saw the voicemail you jumped up because you didn’t look at the time it was sent, and you thought the voicemail was him calling because he was outside to pick you up.

You weren’t crying when he arrived at home. You just had a quiet sort of disappointment in your eyes, one that was almost more painful than tears, because this look told Harry that some part of you expected this. Harry didn’t look particularly guilty because he hadn’t realized how excited you were. He thought you probably didn’t even get ready. He thought you’d say, “Aw, well,” and move on.

He didn’t think he’d find you on the sofa, dressed in the most beautiful summer dress he’d ever seen, looking like an angel with a broken wing. He never dreamed you’d be so upset, never dreamed he’d be the reason for you being so upset.

That was the night he realized he was nothing but a mortal man in the presence of an angel.

An actual, real live angel.

An actual, real live angel who was losing her glow because of him.

Harry takes a miserable sip of his drink and tries to involve himself in the conversation happening around him. It doesn’t work. The noise level in the room is almost headache inducing, but somehow Harry can still pick out your laugh through the chatter.

He thinks, for a moment, that he’d like a shot of that laughter. He’d like to bathe in your happiness just once more. Maybe that’s all the closure he needs. A gasp of fresh air after what seems like eons of suffocating loneliness.

Then Harry thinks he sounds pathetic even in his own head and he excuses himself from his table. He walks almost blindly through the halls without even a semblance of an idea as to where he’s going. It’s quiet out here, at least, and he can clear his head, and take a breath, and maybe -

"Hey.”

Harry freezes.

For a moment, he thinks he’s imagining things. Then he turns around, and as it happens, he’s not.

There you are, in all your glory, a hesitant smile on your lips. You’re wearing a lavender dress. It fits you perfectly, makes you look like you’re floating off the ground, and Harry wants to cry because it matches his bow perfectly and that wasn’t even planned and goddammit, universe, that’s just salt in a gaping wound.

“Nice suit,” you say, and now your smile looks more sad than hesitant, and Harry feels the tears building in his throat because you remember too, of course you do, and Harry opens his mouth to reply but he can’t get his words out and now he’s on the verge of tears not only because he’s sad but also because he’s embarrassed.

“Thanks,” Harry finally chokes out.

“You’re welcome.”

The corridor suddenly feels long and empty and silent.

“Heard Feather on the radio the other day,” you say.

Feather. One word, a million memories shifting through Harry’s head faster than lightning.

A gifted necklace, filled notebooks, picked out notes, hummed melodies. Murmured lyrics in ears in early mornings. Night after night in the studio, together. Rubbish takeaway food, in the studio, together. Laughter over everything and nothing. Falling over each other in the booth, soft sighs and blissful gasps replacing giggles and shrieks of amusement. Late, late nights, together. Hearing it on the radio for the first time, together, almost driving off the road because of the excitement.

Hearing it on the radio last time, alone, almost driving off the road because of the stab of grief.

Harry’s not sure what to say to that. What do you expect him to? Oh, great, me too, fantastic song, innit? So he pauses for a moment and then replies, “We should make a sequel.” That gets a laugh out of you, and the thought strikes Harry to bottle it up and wear it in a little bottle around his neck.

“That would be something, huh?” you say.

“Call me,” Harry says. “I’ll book a studio.”

You smile. “Yeah, sure.”

“Don’t forget,” Harry tells you.

“I won’t,” you say, and there’s a beat of silence. Your smile fades as you look at him, as he looks at you, and Harry looks away because your smile’s about to disappear completely and Harry doesn’t think he could stand being the cause of your smile disappearing one more time.

You clear your throat. “Alright, well… Expect that call.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll see you around, H,” you say.

“See ya.”

You turn around and walk away. Float away. Fly away.

Again.

Flight, Harry thinks, watching you go. That’s what the sequel would be called. Feather. Flight.

You wore a white dress the first time the two of you performed it live. It’s such a love song. It’s the sappiest shit ever written by anyone in the entire world. If anyone else had written it, Harry would’ve rolled his eyes and said, Bullshit.

But it wasn’t. The song wasn’t, the love wasn’t, nothing was. It was the complete opposite. As pure and true as love could possibly be. Which makes it all the more painful that Harry couldn’t keep his shit together enough for you.

That’s another one of the Happy Memories: that first time performing together. You in your white dress, Harry in a silver, shimmering suit. The two of you did a whole choreography; you messed up every other move and Harry tripped over his own feet quite a few times, but the effort was there. The combination of the overwhelming yet familiar excitement of being on stage and the otherworldly bliss of simply being in your presence is a feeling Harry will never forget.

The air in the hallway grows heavier and heavier with each passing second.

Harry should get back to his table.

He starts to walk. He peers up at the ceiling as he does, hands locked behind his back, deep in thought. People are cheering out in the main room. Harry listens to the noise and closes his eyes, trying to shut his brain off.

The fans, he remembers, were devastated upon hearing the news of your breakup. It was kept quiet long enough that the questions and concerns weren’t particularly invasive, but it still hurt. It hurt like hell. It was ripping off the bandaid of the first month and poking and prying at the wound until Harry cried onstage and ducked out of an interview and missed a show.

Feather was taken off the setlist.

Once, during a lull in a show, the audience began to sing it. That was kind of strange. Harry looked up at the bright lights and swaying figures and heard his song, your song, being sung back to him by hundreds of strangers. It occurred to him, then, that it was not, in reality, your song. By that point, it meant something to other people as well.

That was very strange.

Harry ended up strumming out the chords for them. He smiled when the audience grew louder.

He heard later that the exact same thing happened to you. It was a few nights later, maybe the next week, and there were some technical issues. In the quiet, the fans began to sing Feather. You joined in just a second later, adding in your bit of the choreography.

Harry tried his hardest not to watch the footage, he really did, but he couldn’t help it.

He cried a lot that night.

When he finally makes it back to the main room, you’re situated under your new boyfriend’s arm, smiling brilliantly. Harry looks away as he sits down and downs the last of his drink. He grins at whoever’s talking at his table and shuts off his brain.

At the end of the night, through an alcohol- and exhaustion-muddled haze, Harry spots you by the door. He sweeps you up and plants a big messy kiss on your cheek, which you return with giggles and a kiss of your own. Harry leaves the 2020 Brits with two lipstick prints on him.

Despite the pictures splattered everywhere the next morning, Harry feels an air of contentment.

It’s done, he thinks, taking a deep breath. It’s done, and that’s good.

Because really, nothing gold can stay.

Not even the gold of a yellow suit.

***

ummm... yeah lol. hope u liked it...? lskdjf anyway there's that.

thx for reading! a reblog and some feedback would be fantastique!!!!

masterlist | ask

[toastedside]

In Health

Batmom!Reader x Batfamily

Warning: Angst, Angry Tim Drake

Note: I knoooooow it's been a while since I wrote this series and I actually have finished it a while ago. Just figure I want to share the rest. Enjoy!

Masterlist, Previous Chapter

You bit the inside of your cheeks, your eyes travelled constantly to the watch on your wrist. The iced coffee you ordered fifteen minutes ago already half gone. Metropolis was bright and sunny that day, the weather was warm and nice. A welcomed contrast to gloomy Gotham with its perpetual cloud.

The coffee shop Lois had told you about was buzzed with hungry patrons, considering it was almost lunchtime anyway. It was a breath of relief that nobody would recognize you on the first glance, something you had learned fairly quickly since Bruce had publicly claimed you years ago. If you went somewhere with shirts and jeans and nothing shiny, nobody would recognize you that you are Y/N Wayne.

You glanced into your watch again for the millionth time that day. Was the request to meet up too much for them? Were you too harsh on them back in the days? It’s unusual for–

“Hey, oh my god, we’re so sorry. Our meeting last longer than we expected.”

Lois suddenly came into frame. Behind her was a slightly disheveled Clark, eyeing her behind his glasses hesitantly. Something sank at the bottom of you stomach by the sight alone, perhaps you were indeed way too harsh on him.

“It’s alright, I didn’t wait that long anyway,” you mustered a white lie as you gestured them to take a seat across yours. “How’s Jon doing? I miss him coming over on the weekend.”

“He is fine. Clark and I bought him a video game console on his birthday and all he’s been doing was glued his eyes on the TV,” Lois rolled her eyes fondly at the topic of her own son, something you've been doing for years since you are a mother too. “How are the kids?”

“I figure Jon had been talking about his video games with Damian. He asked me if he could buy one just yesterday,” you laughed. “The kids are fine, per usual. Dick and Jason had been a little busy with their job, so they usually only come over on the weekend. Damian tried to woo me into adopt another pet again last week, Cass been practicing ballet a lot lately, and Tim... well... it’s been a little tough for him to fill Bruce’s shoes in the company but he’s doing well so far.”

There was a little shift in the air after you finished. Lois subtly adjusted her seat, silently sent a look towards her husband who looked a little too nervous to be comfortable. It would be funny to see Superman himself squirmed on his seat if the reason behind it didn’t left a bitter aftertaste.

“Lunch?” you swiftly opened the menu book to dissipate the growing tension and gently shoved it into Clark’s lap. “It’s on me.”

The lunch was surprisingly normal and calm, the thought of the dreading event was swept away underneath the nonexistent rug. Lois had been talking about the newest article she was writing about and Clark was obviously waltzed around carefully to not touching the superhero business, and you played your best to ignore it.

“Lois, Clark,” you started as everyone finally finished their lunch and the empty plates were taken away. “I am here to apologize for what I have done... three months ago. And what I might have said.”

There was silence hung in the air as Lois and Clark shared a look together. It was Lois who immediately reached for your hand and gently squeezed it. “Hon, you have nothing to apologize for. We understand, you were–”

“It was still rude and uncalled for, and my circumstance was a mere explanation. Especially to you, Clark,” you rolled your shoulders slightly to face Clark better, eyes fell into the balled fist on his lap. “You were only trying to explain, but I shut you out. I know you lost your best friend too that night and I am so sorry I didn’t try to reach you out sooner.”

“Y/N, it’s–”

“No, no, it’s not.” you breathed shakily. You had prepared your best for this inevitable conversation, but still unaware how painful it could be. “Bruce wouldn’t want me to act that way.”

Silence now had fallen completely and the air had shifted drastically. The only thing that grounded you from withering away and succumb into your own thought was Lois’s thumb gently stroking your wrist. Clark was stunned silent on his seat, the gears on his mind worked twice harder than it usually did in past three months. Nothing had prepared him for this conversation.

“Y/N, I forgive you. I already had long ago. I understand completely, and I would probably act worse if I were in your shoes,” Clark breathed out. All the tension in his shoulders that hinder him in the last forty-five minutes had dissipated into the thin air.

“Thank you,” you lifted your eyes to meet his. Sometimes you forgot how unnaturally blue his eyes were, cold and calculating, even though the corner of his eyes and the smile lines soften it out. It almost reminded you with Bruce. “Can you... can you tell me what happened that night? You were there with him, didn’t you?”

Lois and Clark shared another look, something told you that both knew what you didn’t. “Are you sure you want to hear this now?”

“I need my closure, Clark. And I’d love to know which son of a bitch that take my husband away.”

Clark told you everything in vivid details, the hairs on your shoulders stood in dread by the explanation alone. He talked about the League mission, the warehouse, and the explosion that had killed Bruce and suspected blown his body into unrecognizable tiny bits. By the time he was finished, you were close to tears, and was pleasantly surprised you didn’t weep your heart outs right away in a public place.

“One question,” you wiped the stubborn tears that started to well on your eyes. You mustered a silent thank you as Clark offered his handkerchief. “Was Red Robin there? Was Red Robin called for backup?”

“I can’t remember. What about him?”

You took a sharp breath, the image of Tim weeping on your lap and repeating his apology played inside your mind like a broken movie. “He obsessively investigating his death, saying it was his fault it happened in the first place.”

Lois tighten her grip on your hand and squeezed harder. It wasn’t a secret that your son was bad at letting go and coping with loss, but it had been a huge toll to knew he blamed himself for it. Clark sent you an apologetic look, and you were surprised that you didn’t dread the look.

“It wasn’t his fault. It was supposed to be an easy investigation, an in-and-out mission. Nobody could come prepared for the explosion,” Clark reassured you, although it was addressed more to Tim instead of you. “The machines...”

A sudden rang from Clark’s phone interrupted his words. He watched it rang briefly before let out a dreading, long sigh. “I’m so sorry, but I really need to take this.”

You smiled reassuringly. “Go on.”

Turns out, Lois and Clark had been called for another meeting and had to cut their meeting short. Lois had hugged you tight and drop a promise to come over by weekend for dinner. Clark left a lingering touch on your wrist, his eyes widen as if he had come into a realization he hadn’t before, but he left before he able to muster any single words.

The ride back to Gotham was long and tedious. The traffic had made the trip an hour and half longer than it was necessary, but the sunset at the horizon was a sight for sore eyes. The chance to catch a beautiful sunset was close to zero in Gotham, so you preserved the moment as much as you could. A little part of your soul wished Bruce could witness such sight with you.

You arrived right before dinnertime, the manor was surprisingly quiet, spared for some noises Alfred made in the kitchen as he prepared for dinner. One thing about Wayne household was silent wasn’t a good thing, and one should be suspicious if it happened.

“Where are the others? It’s eerily quiet.” your head popped up in the kitchen. “Alfred, it smells delicious. Are you making Shepherd’s pie again?”

“Miss Y/N, I would really appreciate it if you didn’t surprise me like that anymore,” Alfred deadpanned. “Yes, I am. How was your meeting?”

“It went well. I... I finally get the explanation I deserved,” you sat across the kitchen island, your bag fell into the floor as you did. “Thank you for convincing me into reaching out to him.”

Alfred pressed his lips together into a pleased smile. “You have found your closure, I assumed?”

“I don’t know about that, Alfred,” you admitted. “But it was great to finally know what happened and not left in the dark. Maybe it was a good step for me.”

“I believe so, Miss Y/N.”

“Are those teas for the kids?” you shifted the topic away into a tray full of teacups and biscuits. “Where are they?”

“All of them are cramped together in Batcave, I believe. Master Damian had asked me to brought them some teas.”

“Let me take it to them. You can continue bake your Shepherd’s Pie again.”

Alfred was hesitant, but he nodded away and shoved the tray into your embrace. It had been long overdue for you to step back into the Batcave anyway, figured this would be a great time for you to go back.

You forgot how much you hated the perpetual coldness the Batcave seemed to persistently have, no matter how many efforts everyone had put years ago into make this place warmer and comfortable. The sound of your children bickering with each other filled the cave and it made you smile, for all of its worth, you had always admired your children’s tendency to find things to argue about.

It was until the sound of fist slammed against the table that stopped you in your track and wiped away your smile.

“Stop it, Timbers, stop this fucking bullshit!” Jason’s voice roared, followed with the ear-ripping screeches of bats that had been awoken from their slumber by his roaring voice alone.

“I am telling you the truth!” Tim said heatedly, which was alarming. You quickly hid yourself in the shadows between the costume displays, finding yourself a better spot to watched your children without being known. “Why can’t you believe me?”

“Look at me in the eye and tell me that was not a fucking bullshit!”

“Tim, bud, come on. You need to stop. This isn’t healthy,” Dick’s concerned voice chimed in between the heated stares Jason and Tim exchanged. Your heart sank from that words alone, Tim must had investigating again. “You have us. We can get through this together. But not like this.”

“TT. Drake, you have started to creep me out,” Damian’s equally concerned voice, albeit masked with his usual scowl and sarcasm, piped in. “Also, you look like you hadn’t sleep since you were born.”

“Thanks for the flattery. But listen–”

“Stop it. Stop. Shut your mouth!” Jason yelled again. His finger intimidatingly pointed towards Tim, his eyes filled with rage and frustration. “Have you heard yourself talking?”

“Won’t you all give me a fucking minute to explain myself?” Tim stood from his chair; his fist crumpled together into a ball clenched on his side. It was such an eerie sight to see him so worked up like this. “Cass?”

You saw Cass silently shook her head. She sent Tim an apologetic smile as Tim groaned in frustration.

“Why none of you would just listen to me?”

“Tim, there is no way in hell Bruce is still alive!”

The roar that came from Dick was eerie, but it was his words that split your world into half. You didn’t realize the tray had slipped from your grasp until it clashed with cold floor, your gasp was masked with the loud clang of the tray hitting the floor and the sound of teacups shattered into pieces. All eyes followed towards the sound, and all were surprised to spot their mother was there.

You saw from the corner of your eyes that Dick walked towards you. His shoulders were tensed, his eyebrows furrowed together in frustration and anger. But your eyes fell on Tim whose eyes widen in horror upon realizing that your unknown presence was lurking all these times. You could mentally see the guilt that slowly seeped through his initial shock, the blue in his eyes waver slightly with the swirling guilt. You walked towards Tim, and from the look on his face alone, you wondered if you looked as if you were about to swallow him whole.

“Mom...” Tim croaked.

“Mom, it’s alright. It was nothing.”

“Ma, let’s go upstairs. It’s dinnertime, you never like it when we–”

“Tim.” The firmness on your voice effectively silence your two oldest sons out. Your hands gently placed on Tim’s shoulders as you shut your eyes and counted from one to ten. “Tell me everything.”

“W-what?”

“Tell me everything you know. Tell. Me. Everything.”

“Mom, I don’t think you should see it.”

“He was my husband, Tim. I deserve to know.”

Tim pressed his lips together, his eyes travelled up slowly before he let out a sigh. “Just tell me to stop when it gets too much.”

[skymaiden32]

Toxicity

Tagging: @dragonoffantasyandreality @janetm74 @thundergeek59 (Please ask if you would like to be alerted when I update or write new stories)

Two chapters from separate stories in one day? From me? It's more likely than you think >:D

A look into the not-so-distant past.

Oh look a flashback :D

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

It was just supposed to be a normal earthquake rescue. Get in. Help as many people as they could. Assist in the case of an aftershock. Get out. But they were anything but a normal family. And this quickly became anything but a normal International Rescue callout…

Thunderbird 1 had, as usual, touched down first. Mobile Control was set up and Scott had already made a plan with the local authorities by the time Thunderbird 2 arrived, fully equipped with the Mole and any other equipment the International Rescue crew might need. As expected for a large rescue operation such as this, the transport carrier had a few crew. Not only were Gordon and Alan there, but Brains had also wanted to tag along.

Everything was going as planned. They had gotten as many people out as they could. And it may not have helped seeing the dead along with those lucky few that survived, but at least their families knew for sure what had happened to them. They could have closure. Who knew if the Tracys would know what really happened when Alan was poisoned and Scott disappeared? If they would have closure?

Regardless, when the rescue was finally over and IR was packing up, Alan had been fine one minute and was screaming out in pain the next. That scream, in addition to Gordon’s own wails of terror as he caught his passed out brother in his arms, is what caused Scott and Virgil to drop what they had been doing and rush over to help, older brother instincts going miles a minute. Brains had been close behind them and gave Alan a quick checkup. Brains found nothing immediately wrong but knew something was, so had recommended Alan be moved to the sickbay. While Virgil took on that task as the team medic, Gordon and Brains were sent to finish reloading Thunderbird 2, while Scott focussed on Mobile Control. 

When everyone had finished, Scott had offered to stay behind while Thunderbird 2 left for base. The Island wasn’t too far away, and it pained Scott not to be on board that ship with his family, but someone had to explain what was going on to the authorities and fly Thunderbird 1 back. And Scott was the Field Commander. This was his job.

Maybe it was just because he was standing mostly alone in an earthquake zone, or because his little brother had just collapsed for some unknown reason, but Scott felt like something was about to happen. His suspicions were confirmed when he approached the Chief of Police that had been helping so far, and the official had chuckled darkly when he explained what had just happened, pulling off the disguise he had taken on while he did so. 

“The Hood!” Scott recoiled in horror, backing up before he felt a gun pressed into his back. The other officers of the local police force were helping the criminal. Whether by choice or by force, he may never truly know. Glancing around and seeing no way out of this situation, Scott sighed, clenching his fists at his sides. “So, I take it you’re responsible for all of this? What do you want?”

The evil mastermind laughed malevolently. “I’m just going to get to the point. I want to make you an offer…”

Scott huffed. “What offer? Thunderbird 1 is only a few feet away. What’s stopping you?”

The Hood growled. “I’d watch what I’d say if I were you.” He smiled smugly. “After all, I do have guns trained on you from all angles.” He sighed. “I’ll admit, your ship is very tempting right now. But my purpose here today doesn’t allow for an impulse decision to steal a Thunderbird.” Scott raised an eyebrow. “I have the only antidote for the poison I’ve given your brother. Your scientist will fail to find it before it’s too late…”

Scott cleared his throat. Outwardly, he was very calm, a side effect of being in the armed forces as long as he had, but inwardly, he was a mess. “Let me guess, you want me to give myself up in return for my brother’s life? Well, hate to break it to you, but that’s not happening. I have faith that Brains will find that antidote in time.” 

The criminal hummed, before throwing a card at Scott’s feet. The younger man knew better than to pick it up right away. “We’ll see about that…” The Hood turned around, making a gesture to his men to put down their weapons and leave. The smug grin remained plastered on his face. “I’ll be waiting for your answer…”

And almost as soon as he had appeared, he was gone. Scott waited for a few moments before picking up the card, grateful beyond belief that no one else had seen what had just happened, the area had been fully evacuated hours ago. The card was almost business-like. Scott held back a scoff in case the Hood was still watching, heading back to Thunderbird 1. 

The silver rocket plane was waiting patiently for her pilot, and only when Scott was safely inside her cockpit, away from prying eyes, did his walls crumble as he sagged to the floor on his knees. 

Scott Tracy rarely broke, but now was certainly the time to do so. His little brother's days were numbered if he didn’t give himself up and Brains failed to find that antidote. But between knowing he could do something about it, and the possibility of his brother dying on his watch…

The Hood really hadn’t given him that much of a choice, had he?

A few minutes passed of Scott feeling sorry for his situation before he shook his head, pushing himself off the floor and into his pilot’s chair, and beginning pre-flight checks. Calling base to let them know he was on his way home. No doubt Virgil and the others were already back; Scott had a feeling his immediate younger brother would have pushed his lady to her limits to get Alan to the safety of the Island’s sickbay. 

To say he didn’t cry again multiple times on the way home would be a lie. He hadn’t even looked at the instructions on the Hood’s card yet, but that was for another time. Before anything else happened, he had a family to get back to.

But back home, Alan continued to get worse and worse by the day, with Brains at a complete loss as to how to construct the antidote. They were all out of time. 

So Scott had swallowed his pride and secretly prepared to leave the Island and his family behind. He’d left clues about why he had left behind; a book with a similar, but not exact, storyline to what was happening that had been a childhood favourite, and a handwritten note with a simple message on it. Who’s childhood favourite the book was, however, he wasn’t sure of, although a niggle at the back of his mind told him it was Gordon’s. He just knew what message it would send out. 

He only brought two things with him. The instructions he had been given by the Hood, and a locket pendant containing a photo of the family when their mother was still with them. Her calm smile beamed up at him, making him believe that once he did this, everything would be okay, even if he knew that wasn’t true. 

Shortly before he took off for good, he discreetly said his goodbyes, leaving a kiss on Alan’s forehead before departing. Once out on the runway, looking up to the sky, he sent his love John’s way as well, before focussing on the task at hand. 

As Tracy Island shrunk behind him, Scott couldn’t allow himself to feel any regrets. By leaving, and bargaining with their greatest enemy for Alan’s life, he was betraying International Rescue. But his loyalty to his family was burning brighter than ever.

[turtle-steverogers]

hii, it's the unsent project anon again!! sometimes i think about steve. instead of going back in time for yk, he goes back in time to see his mother again. and has a dance with his mother because he never got to before for several reasons. it would be more rocking from foot to foot than anything else. and steve can barely see through his clumped up lashes from the tears while she strokes the side of his head before cradling it (its a bit of a stretch because he is all big and healthy now) while muttering, "my stevie, my boy" and steve just grins "it's me, ma".

(he would come back after spending some time with her, with a heavy heart but still)

was thinking about this at like 3 in the morning

anon i genuinely think you're trying to murder me lakjdflksjfaskdjflksf

anyway i wrote another fic

-

There are extra white jackets in the back closet, and Steve steals one that’s approximately his size, despite the shoulders being a bit too tight. Pants are a little harder to come by, but he manages to find a pair that look like they’ll fit him in some poor chap’s locker. He tugs them on, grimacing at the way they hug his thighs and fall only to his ankles. They’ll have to do.

He’d already scoped out the hospital the night before-- he knows she’s on the third floor in a private ward. Good, he thinks. She deserves it, if nothing else.

He is focused as he moves through the halls, head down as he passes other nurses. There’s a clipboard discarded on a table near the children’s ward and he swiftly picks it up, squinting at it. He doesn’t process any of the words on the page, but his act seems sound, because nobody stops him.

He makes it to the stairwell at the end of the hall, pushes open the door and takes the steps two at a time. The smell is one that is achingly familiar-- the walls grey and hazy. The air seems thicker, the lights yellow and dim. And though he’s been removed from the past for over a decade, it still feels like home. Like normal. His normal.

But he does not belong anymore, and he will not stay. He’s already been a ghost once. He’s hesitant to be one again.

Especially now, when he is out there somewhere. Most likely in the shitty tenement he shared with Bucky, but also possibly at the grocer he worked at, his ma’s telegram in his pocket. Savoring the bits of her that he could salvage with the knowledge he’d never see her again, even while she’s alive.

Closure has been something Steve always felt he lacked. But he’s seen hell now-- lived in its fiery pits for more years than he can count. He can take some goddamn closure for himself.

The third floor is nearly vacant. No one is in the hallway when Steve steps out of the stairwell, but he can hear voices in the rooms that line the sides. Coughs echo ominously off the walls, and Steve’s toes curl in his shoes, a brief wave of anxiety washing over him. He hadn’t missed these hospitals, and he’d hoped to never deliberately step foot in one again. But this is necessary. This is worth it.

He walks swiftly towards the end of the hall where the private wards are and stops in front of the first room. The name next to the door is incorrect, so he continues on until he sees it, heart stopping in his chest, then speeding up enough to make his lungs tighten.

Sarah Rogers-- TB. Alternative uniform required.

Steve closes his eyes against the blood rushing from his head. He wants to tell himself it’s been so long since he’s felt this detached from reality-- this out of place in a space that should feel so familiar-- but it hasn’t. The feeling, he’s realizing, never truly left him when he woke up from the ice, and the reverse here is strange.

And there’s something even stranger about reconciling this, because he’d lost his ma far before he’d ever died. This grief is an old wound-- one that’s scabbed over only to bleed circumstantially. He’d grown used to living with this particular, bone deep pain. He isn’t sure if he’s here to lance that, or if he’ll walk away with a deeper wound. He isn’t sure it matters, either.

He pushes open the door.

The room is lit with natural light. There is a desk with a vase and a water pitcher on it, along with a few medicine bottles and a tissue box. The bed is pressed against the far wall, the covers barely disturbed save for the frail figure that lies in it.

Sarah turns her head and looks at Steve.

Steve’s world stops.

He hadn’t seen his ma when she was this ill. His last memories of her are of when she was healthy-- cheeks red and full of life, eyes alight with an optimism he still valiantly tries to uphold. Life had not been kind to Sarah Rogers, but she was the kindest soul Steve had ever known, even in the shadow of his father’s violence.

Is, he corrects himself as he looks at her. She is the kindest soul. She’s there. She’s right there.

She’s right there, and she looks weak. She is gaunt and frail, eyes sunken in and cheekbones sharp against papery looking skin. There’s an exhaustion in the lines of her young face that Steve recognizes as the long standing effects of illness-- your body praying to be done fighting while your mind begs otherwise.

Steve resists the urge to turn and run.

Sarah’s face does something strange as she looks at Steve, and he realizes that he’s been standing there for longer than would be normal for a nurse-- shell shocked and silent. She opens her mouth to say something, then stops, eyes widening as she seems to process what she’s looking at. Or who she’s looking at, most likely.

A wizened hand comes up to cover her mouth and she gasps, fear flashing through her eyes and no, no, no--

Fuck, he’d thought of this. He’d had a fucking plan for this, but he can’t remember it now and he really doesn’t want his ma calling security on him, because he has so much to say, and--

“Ma,” he says frantically, taking an aborted step forward. She shies away and he stops, hands flexing at his sides. “Ma, it’s me. I swear it’s me, I can explain.”

Sarah looks suddenly furious. “This is not funny, young man. I don’t know who you think you are, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave this instant.”

Fuck, her voice. Her goddamn voice, as weak as it is now, still has the same strong cadence. The subtle Irish twang. And fuck, Steve can’t help it. He bursts into tears.

“Fuck,” he says, falling to his knees. Why did he think he could do this? Why did he think he could stomach the weight of everything that’s happened since he last saw her-- handle standing in front of her with blood on his hands, underneath his fingernails. In his goddamn soul. What would she even think of him now?

He sobs, biting down on a knuckle to keep silent, his other arm going around his stomach. It’s how he used to cry when he was much younger, and more frantic, and that seems to convince Sarah more than anything.

“Steven?” she says. She sounds incredulous. Damnit, she probably thinks she’s hallucinating. Steve had hallucinated a couple times when he was ill enough and his fever was high. Mostly his father, but he’ll digress.

He looks up, and he can barely see her through the tears that clump on his eyelashes. Sarah’s face does something complicated, then softens, and she reaches out a hand. Steve looks at it and sobs harder.

“Oh, Stevie. My boy, come here,” she says, because maybe he is a goddamn hallucination, but her instinct was always to comfort those in pain. She was a nurse, after all.

Steve is goddamn helpless.

He manages to get to her bedside, chest heaving as he buries his face in her stomach.

“I’m sorry,” he sobs. “It’s me, ma. I promise it’s me. I can explain, I swear.”

“I don’t doubt that you can explain,” Sarah says sternly, and fuck, he’d missed her chastising him. He can’t help it, he laughs, breathless and watery. “What happened to you? Why are you--” Big. Healthy. “Steven, you can’t be in here. I’m highly contagious.”

Steve shakes his head. “Don’t matter. I can’t get sick.” And oh, his accent is back. He hasn’t had one in years. Decades. A goddamn century.

Sarah lets out a strangled laugh that quickly turns into coughing, and Steve briefly wonders how close she is to death. She died in Winter, and it is sometime in Fall right now. Close then, he thinks. He hugs her harder as the coughing dies down.

“A stór, do you hear yourself? You had pneumonia last Summer.”

Summer. Last Summer. In this world, it had only been a mere few months without her. A fresh wave of grief washes over Steve, and then he can’t help another laugh, then another, and suddenly he’s cracking up into her stomach. Laughing like the insane man he feels he often is.

Sarah freezes, then reaches out to lift his face, their eyes meeting. His laughing stops. She gasps again.

“It really is you,” she murmurs, thumbs moving to the outside corners of his eyes, where there are two identical freckles. Little stars, she used to call them.

Steve offers her a brave smile. “Yeah, ma. It is.”

Sarah shakes her head. “What happened?” she asks again.

“I… so much,” Steve breathes. “I don’t know how to explain it all. I-- I don’t know where to start, but god, I just wanted to see you. I needed to see you.”

Sarah studies his face. “You’re so tired,” she says, thumb stroking his eye again. He leans into the touch, closing his eyes. His lip trembles.

“So tired,” he agrees.

“You don’t need to tell me everything,” Sarah says. “I’m not sure I want to know. But I just… Steven, you look so different.”

Steve laughs, wiping at his eyes. “In a few years, there’s a war,” he says. Blunt-- they’d always been so straightforward with each other. “A scientist-- god, please don’t be mad-- a scientist offered, or… offers? Offered me an opportunity, and I took it.”

“Of course you did,” Sarah murmurs, looking fond and angry despite. She seems to set that train of thought aside. “Germany?” and oh, right. It’s already been in the news, the new reign.

“Yeah.”

Sarah hums. “My dear, you look like you’ve seen more than just war.”

Just war. As if any war was just anything.

As if his war ever truly stopped.

He casts his gaze down.

“Yeah,” he says again, and he thinks of Bucky, who’s also yet to come home from the war. Bucky, who is probably somewhere at the docks right now, untouched by anything but insecurity and financial hell. He desperately wishes they both can soon. This visit, he hopes, will bring him one step closer.

Sarah must read his mind, because her face clouds over.

“Bucky…?”

“Survives,” Steve says quickly, then backtracks. “Kind of. We both kind of died, then came back to life in the future and--” Sarah looks horrified now, and Steve shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. He’s alive. We’re together.”

“Alright,” Sarah says slowly. “As long as you’re together.”

Steve nods, and fuck, he wishes he could have brought Bucky, too. Sam as well-- showed his ma his new friends. The brave new family he’s made for himself. The thought has his eyes swimming again, and he screws up his face, trying not to cry. He’s a goddamn mess. It’s ridiculous.

“I must admit, I’m quite confused,” Sarah says. “And sweetheart, you’re not talking.”

Steve shakes his head, and her arms come around him. He melts into the hold-- savors the feeling. Memorizes the pressure, her smell, and pockets it away for later.

“I just missed you so much is all,” he croaks. “And I-- ma… I’ve done so much. I’ve hurt so many people. Killed so many people, and I still feel so lost, and everything hurts and oh Christ, I’ve just-- I miss you.”

He had sworn to himself, before coming in, that he wouldn’t unload any of this onto her. But her warmth is all encompassing, and he craves her comfort. Her approval. Her strong, sure tone telling him everything will be okay.

That he will be okay. He has to be. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if he’s not.

“Lord’s name,” Sarah murmurs, and Steve huffs another laugh. She runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what happened to you. I don’t know how any of this is possible, but I do know you, dearheart. And I know that you are a good person. A gentle person-- my gentle boy, if you’d had a choice, you wouldn’t have chosen violence. But you know more than anyone how mean the world can be. You might have had to make hard decisions, done bad things, but you, Steven, are not bad.”

Steve’s lips part. It doesn’t fix everything, the words-- it barely scrapes the surface of the wall of pain and guilt that suffocates him. But for a moment, the world seems clearer. Quieter. The ache in his chest lanced for one, freeing breath.

“Ma…” Steve says. He doesn’t know how to thank her-- what to say-- because here she is, offering him warmth and closure, even though she might still think he’s nothing but a figment of her imagination. He craves her compassion; her generosity. Swears to uphold it as best he can.

You always stand up, she once told him. He will still, he thinks. He always will. And he will now.

He’ll go home to his family-- his life-- and goddamn live finally. He’s been surviving for so long, he realizes. It’s about damn time for him to stand up and live.

“You’ve still got the same heart,” Sarah continues. She pokes his freckles again. “I can see it in your eyes.”

Steve lifts a hand to cover hers. Her hands are as soft as they always were and he turns his face to kiss her knuckles, then leans forward to kiss her cheek, eyes closing as memories of doing that before running off to school or to play flash through his mind. She smells faintly of vanilla. He wonders if she still dabs it behind her ears.

“Thank you,” he says. “Thank you, ma. I love you. I love you so much-- thank you for being there for me. For raising me, and loving me.”

Sarah hugs him. Outside the room, there are voices; shuffling. He needs to go. The window is open, and they’re only three floors up.

“Loving you is the easiest thing that I’ve ever done,” Sarah says. She looks at the door. The voices are closer now. She kisses his forehead. Another echo of a life long gone. “Go now, Steven. Go home.”

Steve looks at her one last time, drinking in the love in her eyes. And as he climbs out the window, the too-tight doctor’s coat ripping around the shoulder seams, he can’t help but think that he’d gotten her eyes right whenever he’d painted her.

Her love won’t be something so easily forgotten.

-

Bucky catches him before he can collapse as he reappears on the launch pad. He lowers them to the ground, cradling Steve’s head with and letting him practically climb into his lap as he weeps, overwhelmed.

After a few minutes, he pulls back. Bucky’s watching him, concerned, and Steve leans in to gently kiss him.

“Steve?” Bucky asks, wary as they pull apart. He reaches out to swipe some tears off Steve’s cheeks.

Steve shakes his head. “It’s fine, I’m fine,” he says. “All the stones are back-- everything’s okay. It’s over. It’s all over.”

Relief washes over Bucky’s face and he kisses Steve, smiling. “Oh god,” he murmurs. “Thank god.”

Steve wraps his arms around his neck, humming in agreement. Sam and Bruce are somewhere-- Steve can hear them talking-- but it’s distant.

They’re quiet for a long time, breathing in each other. Bucky’s arms feel so goddamn safe that Steve feels his resolve slipping again. He can tell Bucky things. He can be here with him now. Home.

“I went to see her,” he whispers.

Bucky stills where he was previously rocking them lightly.

“Her…” Bucky says, then shifts. “Your ma?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh,” Bucky squeezes him tighter. “How-- how was that? How did she…”

“She was confused. I don’t even know if she knew I was real.”

Bucky pauses, then kisses behind his ear. Steve thinks of vanilla again.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky murmurs.

“No, it was-- good. Needed. I feel… good.”

“That’s so good, honey.”

“She asked about you-- wanted to know if you were, um, alive. I told her you were.”

“Yeah?” Bucky asks, and there’s a small smile on his face now. Bucky had loved Sarah as if she were another mother, and Steve had done the same with Winnifred. It was a privilege to have had both of their protective arms. “What did she say?”

“She said, ‘as long as we’re together’.”

Bucky smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. Steve wants to reach out and touch, so he does, because he can do that now. Bucky is tangible. He is here.

“She’s got a point,” Bucky says. He goes back to rocking them and Steve rests his head on his shoulder. He hears Bucky start to say something, then stop.

“What?” he asks, pulling back.

Bucky studies him. “Did you want to stay?” It isn’t accusatory, just curious, and Steve considers it.

“Maybe a little,” he admits. “Just… instinctively. It’s an opportunity I might have taken up if someone offered it ten years ago, but… I’m a ghost there now, like I was a ghost here, and I don’t want to do that again.” He bites his lip, shaking his head. “I can’t. I wouldn’t be able to.”

Bucky nods, cupping Steve’s cheek and thumbing his jaw affectionately. “I hear you,” he says. “I was just wondering.”

“And besides, my ma told me to go home before I left,” Steve said, cupping Bucky’s cheek in return. “So I did.”

Bucky smiles, and presses their foreheads together.

“We can do that now,” Bucky says. “We can go home. We can rest.”

And there are still things to do-- Steve doesn’t think there ever won’t be things to be done. But that can wait for another day.

“Yeah,” he agrees. He’s grungy, dirt digging in bone deep from the whirlwind of the last few weeks. He smirks, climbing off Bucky’s lap. “But I call first shower.”

Bucky snorts and stands, pulling Steve up.

“Yeah, whatever, asshole.”

Yeah. The world can wait another day.

-

There’s a bottle of vanilla in the spice cabinet. Steve sees it as he’s looking for the cinnamon. The kitchen is empty, but for the first time in years, he knows he’s not alone.

He takes the vanilla out and dabs some onto his fingers, gently rubbing it behind his ears. He closes his eyes, letting the smell wash over him. He can still feel his ma’s arms around him, keeping him warm.

Home. He’s home.

-

thanks for reading yall aflkdjflaksjdf