#or maybe going through a surgery is enough trauma in of itself

[pangur-and-grim]

What’re Pangur and Grim like at the vet? Do they try to befriend the vet or hate them?

Grim has changed, which makes me really sad. the vet used to have a hard time listening to her heart, because she'd be purring so loudly and head-bumping their hand.

a couple years ago, she went in for surgery to get a potentially cancerous lump cut off her head, and since then she's acted extremely fearful at the vet. it's hard now to get her out of the carrier.

Pangur, on the other hand, has never changed. she scream-meows nonstop, tries to climb me (hooking her claws into my clothing), and generally does her best to resist anything done to her.

[fandumb-whimsey]

Scarecrow Leg Observations/Headcanons

aka I thought about it too much and now it's everyone else's problem.

(important note: I am not in the medical field and I learned/looked up a lot of this with the help of Dr. Google)

The leg brace seems like a simple detail which can be overlooked in the larger design. On the surface, it's pretty straight forward: leg got damaged and now needs an orthopedic brace to function. This in and of itself is interesting since the artist undoubtedly referenced actual braces, specifically old ones, to fit Scarecrow's aesthetic:

This is a running theme with him; he seems to favor old, antique items and will repair things (like the use of duct tape or zigzag stitching for tears on his costume) before replacing them, which fits an image of someone coming from a background of poverty. Not entirely important to the conversation, just an interesting aside.

There is official material which states his leg is "permanently broken", which is probably the easiest, most succinct way to state this issue, but it's not entirely an accurate way to put it. If a leg is considered broken beyond repair, it's likely to be amputated. Bones which don't heal correctly the first time can be broken again and realigned to heal properly, often through surgery with the use of pins, rods, plates, and/or screws. However, "permanently broken" could also be implying he has suffered irreparable nerve damage which affects the use of the leg (more on that in a moment). One possibility: The bones in Scarecrow's leg do not heal properly due to the severity of his fractures likely needing surgery. Unable to access such resources after his run-in with Croc, this results in a malunion. In his case, the misalignment could be subtle as there is no obvious bend or twist in his leg, but still causes problems which requires use of a brace.

Another possibility: Perhaps he is lucky and his leg does heal well. Maybe there's no malunion at all. Unfortunately, whether the bones mend together well or not, evidence strongly implies that it was broken seriously enough that it damaged his peroneal nerve, leading to muscle weakness and foot drop, which necessitates the use of the brace to function.

If you look closely, you can see there is additional support around Scarecrow's ankle that would otherwise prevent rotation of that joint. You can see this in the game when he circles Batman on the airship:

When he takes a step with his good leg, the foot remains more parallel to the floor. Compare that to the foot in the brace, where the toes point upward with each stride due to being in a fixed position. I feel this is a strong indication of him having lasting damage here (such as foot drop) and part of why the leg brace is vital to his mobility (and undoubtedly one of many reasons why he's so furious at Batman).

Something like this often has trickle down effects. Having to compensate for a weaker limb can throw the body off balance, especially if it's a leg. This can create joint and back pain outside of (or in addition to) the issues related to the initial trauma. Combined with the other things he has had to deal with, there is something to be said of Scarecrow's tenacity. He is very driven and ambitious, even if it's the pure, seething drive for vengeance which causes him to persevere. It's a quality one can admire. :)

The rambling ends here, thanks for reading. And an extra big thanks to a very special someone who, without their help, none of this would be possible...I'm of course talking about my guy KILLER CROC for going absolutely feral in those Asylum sewers, really gave Jonny here a spooky glow-up, am I right?

Pictured: Scarecrow regretting his fear toxin frivolity into the sewers.

[qweenofurheart]

i’m pretty much through with developing these specific characters (most of the story came about when i was 15-17) but I still love their designs and I certainly wrote some interesting stories about them so I wanted to share it?? lol??

Below the cut is an excerpt from one of these stories, set during the aftermath of the main story, so it might not make much sense. (tw for some described gore and depression.)

Started to get nightmares at the hospital, Kitty wrote. She was discharged after four days. A mild concussion, bruises and the remainder of the dehydration and mild starvation from being in the cage. Everyone else was worse. 

Veel had two gashes across her face, one across her nose and one splitting her chin open, and she had a bullet wound in her neck, but horribly, it had healed itself, pushing the bullet out of the puncture and closing into a gnarled, fleshy knob on the side of her throat. Luckily the tumor was benign and got removed in surgery, and the cuts were stitched, but now she had these frankenstein-esque scars, that would probably fade a little, but never really go away. 

Anneke had a stab wound from Winghead’s makeshift rebar spear. Luckily there was no tetanus, and Harpy had disappeared through the hole in her side, causing it to begin closing up. By the time they had gotten to the ER, it had regressed to maybe a half inch deep on both sides. 

Sunny was fine aside from some bruises. He and Anneke were texting and calling pretty much the entire time she was in the hospital. 

Luke’s father, once he wasn’t ingesting a slow but steady supply of antifreeze, stopped seizing and regained his mental abilities, though he remained disorientated and nauseous. 

Winghead had several gashes from Harpy, bite marks from the Guests, and his curse mark had turned into a second degree burn. With lots of antibiotics and two weeks of hospitalization, he did not develop infection. Seven deep cuts required stitches.

Krishna was fine due to his usage of the pulse, but he was held in the ICU for a couple of hours to make sure he wasn’t suffering from internal bleeding or bruised bones, as he said he was extremely achy post-trauma. 

Kitty, of course, had these nightmares for two reasons. She could now freely admit to both of these: She had gotten bacterial meningitis as a child, and she had gotten suicidal after her best-friend started treating her differently than before. This had resulted in two near-brushes with death. And there was the car crash too, where she had seen Yariulvus’s dead body on a stretcher. She did not want to be around any hospitals. She felt like she could feel the hospital in her sleep, some part of her was tethered to the walls around her. She dreamed of gashes and the caustic, seismic sound of a body slamming into a web of metal bars. Wings coming out of eye sockets and feet covered in blood. She had some internal realization that these were partly Winghead’s nightmares. In fact, one night, they woke up at the same time from a nightmare and ran into each other in the hallway on the way to the bathroom. 

So when she got discharged, she didn’t visit Winghead. She went home and changed her clothes, from the light tan hospital garments to a pink baby tee and sweatpants. Instantly, she already felt more like herself. Ever since Harpy had gone away, the town had felt a little more like itself. No more scuttling things in the darkness or bodies floating in the water. She only had one heart, and that meant that she felt less, but she was feeling more…like things weren’t going to fall apart right in front of her. Or, things always felt like they were falling apart, but at least she could navigate it. 

She brushed her hair, which was long enough to braid neatly down her back. She ordered Mcdonalds through DoorDash, just a Big Mac and fries. The driver was John Vaudan, which startled her. But it made sense that no one else was working except for the people who lived paycheck to paycheck. She tipped him with a five dollar bill. 

She stood in the hallway outside her room, the floors so brown they were nearly black. The seams between the walls and the wood lining were freshly caulked. She checked the oily paper bag. She ate a fry. Her back hurt from lying down and sitting for so long. She went into her tiny room. Greta Gu Ma was still at work. Public defender case. 

Her feet were cold, so she put on socks. Then she called Veel, who now always carried a Razor flip phone. She never used it unless Kitty called or texted. She picked up right away. 

“Hello?”

“I’m home. I got a cab. Where are you?” 

“I’m at the music store. I stepped out for a bit. Do you need something?” 

Veel had started working again three days after the escape, helping Mrs. Choi fix her merchandise and throw away the debris caused by the whirlwind of Guests coming through her shops. Most of the expensive instruments survived because they were kept in the private sound proof room, and no Guests got inside. But outside, smashed ukeleles, acoustic guitars, cheap rental violins, violas, and music stands lay in a crumpled heap. Veel carried everything out with the help of Leo, Gemini, and Artemis, and then they swept the floors, vacuumed, beat out the dust, caulked, spackled, primed, painted, applied a light detergent to the upholstery, and scrubbed the counters and hardwood. They had to replace a handful of windows and one hanging light as well. Now Veel was tending the register again. There were practically no customers, aside from a gig band passing through whose lead guitarist needed new steel strings. Kitty suggested Veel learn the violin if she was bored. 

“Can you come here? Or, I can go there. Whatever works. I - want to see you.” God, it was still so hard to admit that. She could barely choke it out, and cringed at her incompetency and chronic emotional constipation. 

“Oh my god yeah get over here. I’m so-oo freaking bored.” Veel laughed, her voice crunchy through the terrible mic. Kitty could here a Bach concerto in the space between her loud laughs. She still had a thing for childish, guffaw-adjacent laughs. Veel and Winghead both laughed like “Ha! ha ha ha ha ha!” and it was great. She told Veel this.

“Charmed.” Veel’s grin was audible. “Get over here.”

Kitty knew she could walk, even with her fucked up atrophied legs, but she took the bus instead. It was impressive how fast public services returned back to normal. Buses, mail, police, fire department, city council, etc. Then again, they were somewhat more prepared to deal with the emergency after the FBI clued them in. Kitty felt strange now that she was no longer the go-to source for Harpy and Winghead-and-Veel-related news. 

She got to Cordelia and took a left from the fountain, or, what was left of the fountain. Now it was just a gaping hole with caution tape around it and construction workers already going to work on it. 

Choi’s Music was small and narrow at the front and opened up in the back. Kitty had been going there since she was fifteen to rent her clarinet. Veel was waiting at the counter, swiveling around in the high chair, visibly perking up when Kitty stood right in front of her. 

Her face was amazing, as usual, but looking at the purplish bumpy edges around the pale brown scars was painful. Kitty could tell it hurt when she smiled. 

“Kiss me?” she said. Kitty hummed and leaned in, giving her a little kiss on the corner of her mouth. She could feel the ridge of her chin scar under her fingertips where she cupped her face. 

“Oh. Sorry - lip gloss.” She pointed at the corner of her own mouth as soon as they parted and Veel wiped her lips. 

Veel hopped down from the chair and ducked under the counter door, coming out on Kitty’s side. 

“I’m gonna ask Mrs. Choi if we can close up early - no one came in anyways.” Veel told her, and Kitty followed her up the stairs to Mrs. Choi’s apartment, where she was probably napping or sorting out finances.

Kitty inhaled deeply and exhaled. She accepted the cup of Oolong tea when Mrs. Choi offered it. 

-

Winghead got out a week later, and this time, Kitty, Veel, Inez, and Sunny were waiting for him. Inez had flowers and a balloon in the shape of a heart. Sunny had brought him his clothes. Kitty didn’t bring anything, so she offered to buy Winghead tea when he was rolled out on a wheelchair by the attendant. He shrugged and said sure. He changed in the back of the car, into the Adidas hoodie and jeans Sunny brought. Then they all got in and drove to the nearest tea house. Wing fell asleep almost immediately against Inez’s shoulder, giant bouquet of pink tulips in his lap. The flower-perfume smell was really strong, so Sunny rolled down a window.

They got tea, and then they also went to Wingstop.

“How’s Ani?” Winghead asked when he seemed fully awake. Sunny pursed his lips.

“She’s OK.” He said, evenly. “Studying for the AP tests.”

They had all taken those already, but Kitty supposed Anneke’s memory was too scrambled or missing for her to remember what she had learned.

No one said anything for a while. Winghead shivered slightly, a movement that even reached his wings, and Inez wrapped an arm around him. 

--

A week later, and Veel found Kitty sitting blankly in the hall outside her room. On the hardwood floor. If she sat with her back perfectly pressed against the wall, and extended her feet, they reached the other side and she could snugly wedge herself within the width of the hall. The pressure felt nice, and it was always a little dim in the hallway because there was only one lightbulb. 

Veel hesitated. “Hey.”

Kitty remained silent, unmoving, unseeing, slowly blinking. Veel couldn’t tell how long she’d been at this. Her eyes looked red-rimmed and dry.

Then, she croaked. “Hi.”

Veel sat next to her, not quiet hugging her knees to her chest but wrapping her arms loosely around herself. 

“I’m good.” Kitty said before Veel could speak. Veel nodded slowly. 

Kitty was tired. She could feel a faint buzzing in her head. She kind of wanted to die. She was wearing jeans and they felt weirdly loose around her ankles. Her feet were bare. She could feel the texture of the drywall underneath them. The pressure was both condemning and a lifeline. 

“I don’t like my room.” Kitty said. 

“It’s a bit small,” Veel nodded, picking up what she was putting down.

“I don’t feel like I live here.” Her stomach hurt. Painful press in her lower abdomen, probably from eating a heavy lunch and going straight to bed afterward. “I can’t relax at all. I feel like a houseguest, or - or like a couch crasher. I want to go home.” She explained. “But not home home. I don’t know. I don’t really feel right anywhere.”

Kitty knew she scared Veel sometimes with how she talked. During their worst fight, Veel screamed that she was afraid Kitty was going to disappear or die the moment she stopped willing herself to be alive. That really hurt Kitty, and that night, when Veel had forced Mon to return to the Silverlands with her, Kitty had tried to go to sleep forever, outside in the forest, lacking the strength or will to walk home. She hoped she could will herself to go missing. It was only Winghead’s good conscious that saved her that time. She couldn’t help feeling evil after that, like some terrible selfish person, especially not when Winghead was giving her that angry, hollow, concerned look as she tried to explain to Greta what she was doing. 

“I have a flat affect.” She said. “The doctor in the psychiatric wing said so. It’s caused by depression.”

She could see Veel trying to understand, rolling the words around in her head. “A flat affect.”

“Yes. It means I don’t feel emotions as strongly. They’re being suppressed.”

“You are…talking a bit flatly.” Veel noted. Kitty nodded.

“I felt so much when I had yours and Wing’s hearts. I couldn’t stop feeling these powerful waves and waves of emotion. It was - fascinating, and kind of amazing, but it was obviously too much - and I broke. That’s when the spell broke. And then I was just left with my own feelings. My own heart. Which is already - it’s already ruined. I don’t know if I can fix it, or if a therapist can fix it. I might be like this forever.”

“You’ve always talked like this.” Veel said. “Ever since the spell broke, you’ve been like this. At least for as long as I’ve known you. Was it like this before you came to the U.S.A.?”

“It started when I was thirteen I think.” Kitty mumbled. “Well, I’m not sure, I think people started noticing my lack of reaction when I was about to leave. Fourteen, then, maybe.”

“My dad - he was like this. Even before my mom disappeared.” Veel said, surprising Kitty. Veel wasn’t touching her, but they were sitting so close that Kitty could feel a bit of warmth from where their shoulders were adjacent, and it tickled. She rubbed her own bicep aggressively, trying to slough the feeling off of herself. “You could tell there was something wrong with him. It was the stress, I think. He was the weakest in our family, and so people ragged on him about that his whole life. I couldn’t fix him. No one could…but no one tried, either. He was - exhausting. But I didn’t want him to die.”

“Exhausting. You said - you said that I was - exhausting, right?” It had been during their fight.

Veel grimaced. “I’m so sorry, Kitty. I was projecting, I think. You reminded me of him. Your symptoms lined up with his. I got scared. I didn’t want to see you destroy yourself.”

Kitty said nothing for a while. “You said not to apologize -”

“Baby.”

“I didn’t know - I …”

“Kitty, no, it’s my fault.”

Kitty waved a hand and shook her head. “I forced you into my mess - I made it your responsibility to care for me…I made you afraid for me - when you shouldn’t even have known I - existed.”

“You said sorry. I forgive you.” Veel said. “You’ve done so much for me, Kitty.”

Kitty sighed. “It’s never going to be enough.”

“You’re speaking in extremes.”

“I know I am. I know …”

She trailed off, getting silent again. She knew. Of course she did. She was the smartest person in her whole school, and she definitely didn’t pioneer the field of Biology by being unobservant. She knew every faucet of her sickness, intimately. She just…forgot sometimes. 

They sat like that for 70 minutes, Veel lightly dozing off and on, and then they heard Greta Gu-Ma’s key in the door. Kitty gingerly bent her legs, and began to stand up. Slowly, moving wrongly. Face blank. Veel must have been worried, because she placed a hand on Kitty’s lower back and helped her straighten out. Kitty let herself be maneuvered.

“I need to sleep.” Kitty said, voice broken. Veel nodded. She took her to her bedroom and helped her get under the covers. 

“You’re so-.” Kitty whispered, tracing Veel’s chin scar with her finger as Veel tucked her in. “It’s amazing. You’re so steady. I don’t deserve you.”

Veel kissed her forehead. 

They slept in the same bed that night. Kitty put her arms around Veel’s waist like she was a giant teddy bear. Veel’s stomach was astoundingly flat and hard. The nape of her neck smelled like pears. Kitty thought about what they had talked about and she cried as softly as possible. Veel breathed heavily.

[fancy-a-dance-brigadier]

🌿how does creating make you feel? and 💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

🌿how does creating make you feel?

I answered this question here!

💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

Ok you are going to regret asking this because there’s a Star Wars fic I’m working on at the moment that has been living rent free in my brain for several months now, and given the opportunity I will yell about it in great detail to anyone who asks. Only @nebulouscoffee can attest to how insane I am about this WIP (and shout out to them for helping me flesh out this AU, and for coming up with so many great ideas for it!!! Bugs bunny *our* self-indulgent Star Wars AU etc etc)

Basically, it’s a fic/fic series that’s set in an AU where Padmé is force sensitive and Anakin isn’t, and I’m planning on retelling the entire story of the Star Wars based on that premise (well, the first six movies + The Clone Wars, at least. But I am eyeing the sequel trilogy like a vulture let me tell you because I’m desperate to give those films the AU treatment). It also ends up as a role swap for Luke and Leia as well, with Leia being raised on Tatooine and Luke on Alderaan (Leia gets to be a Jedi too, basically). But other than those role swap changes, I’m also going to address a bunch of things I wish the films had explored more/done better. So, rather than writing paragraph after paragraph elaborating on these changes, I will now present you with a bullet point list of “Things about the Jedi Padmé AU that make Fancy go insane”

Excessive Padmé character analysis

Explorations of the ethical issues of Clone rights (feat. A Clone OC that I’m incredibly attached to, his name is Tatao and I’m love him)

Said Clone OC is GNC af and is kind of punk rock about it

Slavery on Tatooine is kind of a much bigger deal

Maybe Naboo’s political system is kind of messed up??? Did you ever think about that George?????

Padmé’s handmaidens are important now!!! Because my favourite hobby is plucking female characters with no lines out of sci-fi properties and giving them ✨Depth✨

The destruction of Alderaan has much more weight than in the films

Han Solo cringefail compilation

Anakin still has no father, he just has two lesbian mums now (one of whom is trans 🏳️‍⚧���)

Obi-Wan actually facing the consequences of his actions for once

Luke dressing like David Bowie, Prince, Freddy Mercury, Elton John, and all the members of ABBA combined. Think disco Mark Hamill on German television

Explorations of whether the Jedi Order is actually a corrupt organisation (spoiler alert, it kind of is)

Obi-Wan getting to raise chaotic bantha child Leia

Skysolo for real ☀️

Ahsoka getting to be the cool Aunty to the twins like she always deserved

Trauma and violence and blood and killing and darkness and torment and hatred and guilt and improvised surgery on your boyfriend

The power of a childhood lullaby is something that can be so crucial to saving the galaxy, actually

And, just for good measure, here’s a preview of the very first chapter (which I will put under a ‘read more’ because this post is long enough as it is):

She had first felt it long ago, in the dark, in the nighttime, when she had woken from a nightmare to the sense of a soothing energy coursing through the air and stroking her cheek and drying her infantile tears. Good - it was always supposed to be good, pleasant and oh so very helpful, to reach out and make itself known to the little girl who lived so lonely with only her ambitions to guide her. Secret, a lovely secret, all to herself. If she shared it, it might leave her, and so she hid it in her heart night after night and day after day, even as she felt it in her blood and her bones and in all the little cracks and crevices of her thoughts.

Everywhere. The feeling is everywhere. And it is yours to treasure.

There were people out there in this wide world who shared her secret, or so she learned as she grew. The stories said that they were brave and strong and kind, good people with good powers and she could share her secret with them if she wished. So many times she had been tempted, to call upon the knights with their flashing swords and words of wisdom, to seek them out from their hiding place. Hiding place.

People suffered. People passed away. People rotted. People wept. So where were those knights with their flashing swords and their words of wisdom and their beautiful little secret now?

Nowhere. They will not come to aid you. Aid yourself, you do not need them.

Secret. A good secret. To keep it or not to keep it - yes, she would hide it. She learned that if she shared her secret the stagnant knights would find her, and now nothing could be worse than being drawn into their web of passivity. Yes, she would hide it. Keep it to herself. Grow her power inside of herself, practice and practice when no one was around to see her, in all the dark places that nobody would think to look.

Elsewhere. Find your power elsewhere. With me, my dear, plant the wretched seed and let it grow.

Someday soon, a beloved voice will call her name, and her secret will destroy the love and the life in him and return him to dust. Someday soon, a shattered heart will cry out vengeance and use her undead name as a battle cry for his own death wish. Someday soon, a girl of the sands will see the history inside her eyes and resurrect her withered and atrophied compassion.

All that would come to pass would be hers to create. But as that little girl settled back into sleep with a secret to keep her safe, all of it was a dream to her.

[avengernomore]

"Yeah, I just think I wouldn't have had a chance of getting them to like me without you. I'm pretty sure they thought I was just a no-good traitor like most of the village." Although things were getting better in that regard, after he had been working doing mostly D rank missions for many months. No-one would go through all that if they were just going to betray the village, even greenhorn genins weren't fond of D rank missions. "I wouldn't be surprised if you told them you'd elope if they didn't at least give me a chance... and of course I'm not going to leave you. What kind of terrible person would leave a woman that they got pregnant all alone, even if they didn't love her? Considering that I do love you, nothing short of death will take you from me, and even then I'd put up a hell of a fight letting death take me."

"I probably won't make fun about it too much, if it's really so embarrassing to you. I do enjoy teasing you, but I don't want to risk making you hate me. And even if you say that you could never hate me, I'd rather not try to test that or abuse that." He smiled softly, giving her cheek a kiss. "And if you need a hand with it, you know you can ask me." He knew literally nothing about breast pumps or how they worked but he was always willing to help his pregnant wife.

"I... don't want you to feel like you have to quit your job if you don't want to, though. Or be a housewife unless that's what you really want." He paused for a moment, thinking. "We could always try to figure something out, like me only going on missions on certain days, so we could sort of split the time for taking care of Mio. I don't mind taking on a lot fewer missions if it would help, or even taking up a job with the Military Police Force." It wasn't his first choice of job, especially since he didn't want to get any preferential treatment due to the connection the Uchiha historically had with the Military Police Force, even having the Uchiha Clan's symbol in it's symbol, but if it would help lessen the burden of childcare on Sakura...

"...Yeah, it left more than just psychological trauma on you, didn't it?" He'd seen the scar. He knew that it still pained her at times and the wound could re-open if she over-exerted herself. He simply hadn't been able to broach the subject, and didn't think he had enough of a bargaining chip to push her to get the required surgery she would need to fix both the scarring itself and the internal damage that the poison had caused. Maybe he'd be able to convince her to do it when his eyesight started to fade, and he needed to get Itachi's eyes transplanted, but that still seemed like it would be a ways off... "The Mist would certainly be high on my list of places to visit, then. Even if just for a vacation rather than our honeymoon."

"I'll admit, I thought that kunoichi had some sort of birth control jutsu that they could use, since I know what some kunoichi missions can involve." He hummed softly, giving her skin a gentle nip before pulling his head away again. "I guess I really should have asked. But oh well, sometimes life can throw you a curveball... and I think we'd both agree that it only accelerated things that were going to happen anyway. I would have planned it to happen after we got married, but I definitely don't have any regrets about it happening earlier than we expected... and I know that you definitely enjoyed making Mio~" He teased, a playful grin on his lips. "But who knows, maybe sometime I'll be able to resist trying to breed you like an animal and take my time with you... maybe even restrain you a little, and just tease and toy with you until you're begging for me, until you're nearly going mad with pleasure~" He gave a soft little chuckle, leaning in to whisper into her ear. "And who knows, maybe then I'll give it to you... or maybe I'll enjoy keeping you on the edge far too much, hearing the noises you'll make, watching your body twist and writhe~" He gave her earlobe a gentle bite, before pulling away a little. "Although I doubt I'll ever have enough self control to resist you for long... I don't think anyone has that level of self control~"

Sakura’s cheeks puffed up with fluster, “Is that really what he pulled you to the side for? I know he’s joking but ruudddee. I would never force you to be with me against your will.” That was just like her dad making a joke like that, “Okay, maybe I did a lot of the persuading, but they still love you either way. They know you make me happy and you’ve proved to them you aren’t just going to leave me. You intend to be involved in our baby’s life. Their biggest fear was you leaving… But I know you better than that.” She couldn’t imagine Sasuke not wanting to be a part of the baby’s life. He wanted kids after all.

A huff left her, she didn’t even need to answer that question, they both knew the answer to, “Okay, I'll let you make fun of me for it later… And, yes, you’re right, they actually kinda hurt. Any kind of pressure on them kinda makes me want to die.” Maybe she was being a little over dramatic there but still, “Alright, fine, I’ll do it… Just be very flustered the whole time.” Her face was already red. It was just something that came with pregnancy, and she knew she’d have to do it eventually. She just wished it wasn’t so embarrassing! 

“I agree. I don’t want our kids to ever fear they will be without stuff they need, but I don’t want them so spoiled rotten they think they can get everything they want whenever they want. I want them to learn how to earn things.” Growing up poor like she did made her appreciate everything she gets. Sakura wanted their kids to appreciate the things they earned, “I could quit my job and we’d still be set for life. Though, I admit, I’m going to greatly cut my hours for a while. I don’t want to be away from Mio, and the hospital really doesn’t need me there every day. I’m really only called in for really big emergencies. I can do paperwork at home.” She’s been thinking about it for a while, “You’ll be in and out on missions, so I want to be with him, instead of him being constantly with my parents. I don’t mind being a housewife! I’d get to welcome you home too! A housewife that sometimes gets called in to do really gross, messed up surgeries on people.” Sakura let out a small laugh. She just didn’t want the both of them to be too busy for their baby. It was easy for her to step back a bit from her job and just oversee things. A lot easier for her than it would be for Sasuke to stop what he’s doing.

“I… Have nothing against the sand village, just that fight with Sasori really left an impact on me. I’m embarrassed to admit I still have nightmares about it. I don’t want to celebrate my marriage while having flashbacks of nearly dyin’ at the hands of an overgrown doll.” It was just so embarrassing to admit, “The Mist might be nice, now that things aren’t absolutely insane over there. But you’re right, we have time to think about it.”

Once again he had her all flustered and almost unable to look him in the eye, “M-maybe you’re right… I-i do egg it on, a-and I like it when you force me to make all those sounds.” Even if it was so embarrassing to her and she tried to hide them sometimes. Only for Sasuke to force them out of her anyway, “Our first time was supposed to be soft and romantic but we ended up going at it like animals then too. Though it makes me happy you love me so much you can’t help yourself!” Sakura leaned into his nuzzles, and kiss with a smile, “We shouldn’t have been shocked at all over me getting pregnant with how hard we went at it.”

[mochie85]

Darkside Of The Moon

Chapter 22 of my Mayari series

Mayari Masterlist | Complete Masterlist

Summary: Loki struggles with the fact that you might not come back. But when you do, are you still the same deity he fell in love with? A/N: I took liberties with "The Punishment of Loki" in the P. Edda. It's a rough retelling/sampling of what the myth was. This entire series is inspired by songs. The complete playlist can be found here on Spotify. Word Count: Over 3.4k Warnings: Angst Dividers by: @firefly-graphics Artwork by: Starry Goddess - pinkincubi

“THOR! I can’t lose her, Thor.” “She’s alive, brother. Don’t worry. We’ll make sure she gets well.”

“Loki, I need you to step out of the room.” “The hell I will. I am not going to leave her, Banner!” “Strange is here. I promise we will get to the bottom of this. But right now, this isn’t helping her. Or you. You can watch through the window, but you need to get out of this room!”

Beep…Beep…Beep…

“She will find her way back to you. If you believe in anything, believe that she loves you enough to find her way back to you.” “Thank you, Agent Roman…” “Loki…call me Nat.”

“She’s stable. Her heart rate and blood pressure are a little low. We’ll keep her in an IV for now. I don’t know the proper dosage for a Vanir, but I assume it’s similar to you Asgardians. Her x-rays came back, and we removed the splinter of bone that broke off from her ribs when she got stabbed. Luckily we got to it before it punctured her lungs. She did crack her patella on her right knee. She’ll be unable to walk for at least six weeks. Maybe sooner because of her lineage. We won’t know anything else until she wakes up…and that is a mystery itself. She should be awake. Neither Bruce nor I know what’s going on with her. We think she might be in a self-induced coma. But again, we don’t know until she wakes up.”

Each time Dr. Strange listed off a problem, Loki felt a sharp stab right in his chest. It was twisting and sinking deeper and deeper into his heart. He hadn’t slept in days. He hadn’t eaten either. “Now as for you, I suspect trauma and depression, possibly guilt…”

“Don’t push it, Strange.” Loki snapped.

“Let’s put it this way, how are you going to take care of her, if you’re not altogether here yourself? She’s going to need you in the next couple of months, Loki,” Strange admonished him. Loki let out a sigh. He ran his hands through his dark hair staring into your room. There was bruising on your arm where they had tried to stick the IV initially but failed. Loki almost beheaded the nurse for that. Your right leg was in a brace, post-knee surgery to fix your broken patella. You had gotten to the compound four days ago and you haven’t woken up since.

“He’s right, brother. At least have something to eat. She would hate to see you like this.” Thor said gently.

“Go take care of yourself, Loki. We’ll be here. And we’ll have FRIDAY contact you as soon as she wakes up.” Tala nudged him. Loki nodded, finally accepting some relief.

“Tala,” Loki said slowly. “There is a word in our realm to describe what your sister means to me. The words do not compare when translated into any Midgardian language. ‘Loyal Girlfriend’ just doesn’t seem to encompass all the love and support Mayari has given me. The word ‘girlfriend’ alone seems insulting when she is so much more. She is my Sigyn.” Loki watched you through the window one last time. You were lying perfectly still with wires and monitors attached to your arms. Loki looked at Thor, then at Tala. She cupped her hands on Loki’s face. “I apologize dear Tala. She is your sister. This must be harder for you.” Loki realized.

“Kuya, we all worry for her. We do it in our own way. Don’t worry, she’ll come back to us.” She said with borrowed confidence. “She is always victorious. She always gets her way, doesn’t she?” 

“With all that she has been through, and then picking you to be her sjelevenn, she has proven to be tough and unbending. She will undoubtedly pull through. She is too strong-willed to let this stop her.” Thor said wrapping his arm around Loki’s shoulder. He nodded his head and started to walk towards the private rooms.

He had to make this quick. A shower, a change of clothes, and he’ll make a sandwich to eat while on his way back. He doesn’t want to miss being there when you wake up. 

The shower felt refreshing. It was relaxing to feel water spraying him, to know that he hasn’t lost all his senses. He felt numb after coming back to the compound. He lathered himself with soap and tried to wash off the bad mood that was settling on his shoulders. He rubbed and squeezed them, trying to massage the tension away.

He stepped out of the shower and dried himself off with a towel nearby. He wrapped it around his waist, his hair still wet, dripping water on the tile floors. He came face to face with himself in the mirror. His eyes had formed dark circles and his face looked gaunt and lifeless. He looked sickly and it was heightened by the fact that he had started growing a beard hiding his face. One that almost rivals Thor. He didn’t like the look of it. He searched the drawers for a razor and thank The Norns, there was shaving cream too. He dressed in his most comfortable shirt and loose slacks. Then made his way to the kitchen.

“Hey, Loki.” Barnes greeted him from the small dining table. Loki was surprised to see him here. He nodded a quick hello and made his way to the fridge to start making his sandwich.

“When did you arrive?” Loki asked.

“We got to the tower yesterday evening. I drove up here with Sam after the debrief.” Barnes said, taking a sip of his coffee. There was silence. All that could be heard was the hum of the fridge. Loki continued to spread mayonnaise on a slice of bread, his butter knife scraping against his toast.

“Are they all dead?” He asked Barnes, breaking the silence.

“Apart from Dreykov who escaped. Ya, we got’em all Loki.”

“Pity. I’m out of practice. I could’ve used new targets.” Loki said, taking a bite of his ham and cheese sandwich.

“I’ll make sure to save you one next time.”

“There had better not be a next time…if she knows what’s good for her.” Loki chided.

Barnes let out a small chuckle. “We all knew this was gonna happen. I think that’s why the team tried to keep it from her. How is she though? I was just down there and she’s still under. Tala was sleeping on the couch and Thor…well he was very stoic.”

“A lot of blood loss, a broken rib, and a broken knee. Strange says that she won’t be able to walk for at least six weeks. That is if she even wakes up.”

There. He said it. He didn’t mean to. He tried to be positive, but the thought that you might not even wake up from this ordeal…scared him.  Loki threw his sandwich to the counter and leaned over it. His head was in his hands, his elbows supporting the weight. One silent tear dropped onto the counter.

What happened? His whole life was upended. He felt pain and grief. Feelings he swore he would never allow himself to feel again. He felt anger and rage so violently that he blacked out from the fight until Thor had to pull him into his senses. He’s never acted so out of decorum before, and it was all because of you.

But because of you, he’s also never felt so free. He’s never felt so loved and wanted. Because you unapologetically love him, you allow him to be himself around you. The thought that you might take that all away the moment you leave him, was enough to crush his soul.

He heard Bucky’s chair scrape across the floor as he got up to go to Loki. Bucky gave him a reassuring pat on his shoulder. “Come on. You said you were getting rusty. Let’s go train. Get your mind off things.” Loki straightened up and let out a sigh. “After you finish your lunch.” Bucky continued. He could see the strain under Loki’s eyes. He hasn’t been taking care of himself. Loki nodded his head and picked up his sandwich again, but he honestly couldn’t take another bite. He threw the sandwich down the disposal and washed his plate.

An urgent alarm blared through the intercom system. “Mr. Laufeyson, you are urgently requested in the medical wing.” FRIDAY chimed in. Loki started running. His worst fears seized his mind. He didn’t have a contingency plan if you left this world. He wouldn’t know what to do.

Bucky followed closely, keeping in time with Loki’s long strides. They happen upon Thor and Strange crouched down in a defensive position. The nurses and doctors behind them huddled for protection.

You were awake! And you were pointing your daggers out to Strange and the other medical staff you weren’t acquainted with.

“Ate, he’s fine. He’s healthy. He’s alive.” Tala said on Thor’s other side, trying to comfort you.

“Where is he?” Your voice resonated. It had weight. It rang through Loki’s ears reverberating in his mind. You were working your way to stand up. Despite the many cables attached to you, the only thing that stopped you was the cast on your right leg.

Loki used his seidr and collected your daggers. It flew from your grasp onto his waiting hands, nearly scratching Tala. You both had locked eyes then. His ocean blue to your all-black ones? What happened to her? Is she in her moon form? Your markings were there and more defined because now they weren’t illuminated, they were etched on with the blackest ink. Your hair was not the shimmering silver-blue he was used to when you were in your moon form. It was a haunting shade of nothingness. It was devoid of color or form as if the space it occupied was just erased from existence. Just absence – black matter. You were in your moon form, but dark.

You reached out to him with both arms, unable to stand off your bed. He ran up to you and wrapped you in his arms. You started weeping. Your hands grabbed him tighter, pulling him closer to you.

“I thought you died. I thought I had to carry your soul to the underworld.” You whimpered in between cries. Loki tried to shush you. Tried to comfort you. He patted your hair and wiped the tears from your face.

“I’m here darling. I’m not going anywhere.” He assured you as he caressed your face. He looked you in the eyes, bewildered. You were alive! You were awake. You had survived. Everything else you can figure out together, later.

The other nurses and doctors left; thankful they weren’t compelled to do something. Thor and Bucky were next.

“We shall inform the others. Welcome back milady.” Thor said giving you a small smile.

“We’ll be around doll. Don’t do anything stupid.” Bucky said. Tala was the next to leave. Loki moved aside to give you two your moment. She cupped your face, and you cupped hers. Your foreheads touched as she cried for the first time since she got here.

“You have to stop doing this!” Tala cried. She locked eyes with Loki and smiled. “See, she always comes back,” she said to him. Loki nodded and smiled. “We’ll catch up soon. I love you.” She whispered to you.

“I love you too.” You whispered back. As she left, your eyes caught Doctor Strange standing by the doorway.

“Yup. Still here.” Strange had quipped. “I need to assess you, considering you just woke up from a coma.” You nodded your head as Loki introduced the doctor to you.

“Darling, this is Doctor Stephen Strange. He helps the team out from time to time. And occasionally, he can be very useful.” The doctor rolled his eyes at Loki’s little quip.

“He was the surgeon that operated on your lungs and knee.”

“Thank you, doctor.” You said to him.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, goddess.” Strange listened to your heartbeat and checked your eyes and ears with the otoscope. Loki sat next to you on your bed. He observed you. He watched you breathe. He examined your eyes blink and your lips quiver. You weren’t lying lifeless on the bed anymore. You were awake and alert.

“Ok, your heart is fine. I can hear a slight wheeze in your lungs. But that’s to be expected considering the surgery you just had. I can’t see your eyes. We might have to make appointments regularly for us to figure that out. (Sigh.) Just relax for now. I’m going to call Bruce over, maybe Tony. I’ll see you in a bit.” With that, Strange left, leaving you and Loki alone.

 Loki clutched your hand in his and kissed every knuckle. He massaged his way up to your elbows, following the now dark lines of your markings. He wasn’t used to this look on you. He didn’t know if this was permanent or temporary, but it didn’t matter. He ran his fingers through your hair, pushing them away from your tear-stained face. His fingers disappeared into nothingness. He could feel the texture of your hair, but it was just, black. He let you cry again until you had calmed down.

The room was quiet except for the beeping of the monitor behind you. You started with a whisper, “I was empty. I took a part of your soul. Then I took the others. I had become a vessel. My payment for living was to become a bridge, a guide for the souls I took to the next life.” Loki listened intently, watching you with subdued fear. “I had your soul with me. I didn’t want to let it go. It was different, unlike the others. I recognized that it was you and I selfishly kept it with me. I hid it from the Great Snake River, where all the souls flowed into the next world. I followed it back here, where I woke up. I thought I had lost your soul. If I wasn’t there to protect you, you would’ve gone towards the world beyond. I didn’t want to wake up. I didn’t want to wake up in a world where you weren’t in it.” You cried again. He wrapped his arms around you, embracing you with all his love.

“My darling girl …my goddess divine. You had stayed in that awful purgatory because you wanted to be with me? Not even the real me, but a small token of what I am? All because you didn’t want to live without me?” Loki asked, awed and humbled by your admission. “How could I ever equal the depths of your love? I will spend the rest of my long, immortal life, loving and proving it to you, my Sigyn.” He kissed you. A long searing kiss filled with passion and longing.

You broke the kiss, out of breath, needing reprieve. Your lungs had started aching. Something was coming out as if something were sucking out your soul. A bright glowing sphere had left your body, knocking you down onto the pillow. It flew into Loki causing him to stumble down as well. All at once, Loki felt full and rested. He felt calm and energized.

“What was that?” he asked.

“I think that was your soul. The one that guided me home.” You said smiling, your eyes drooping. “The one that guided me to you.” You sighed weakly as you stayed lying in the bed. “I’m so tired.”

“You had a long journey, my dear. Sleep. I will watch over you now.” With his hand in yours, you closed your eyes and fell back asleep.

“What does she mean, ‘a bridge to the other world?’ Is she the Grim Reaper now?” You heard Tony ask. You woke up to voices in your room.

“Keep it down. You’re going to wake her up.” Strange had said. You felt Loki’s hand squeeze yours. He knew you were already awake but kept your eyes closed.

“Tala, dear, has she ever done this before?” Tony asked your sister.

“No. Not in the thousands of years I have known her.” She answered.

“There are some sects in ancient Greece that believed that the moon carries the souls of the departed with it across the sky. I gather, they tried to explain the waning and waxing of the moon. The dark side being the souls it collects. Ultimately, helping them find another body in rebirth or their final resting place in the beyond.” Strange offered.

You could feel Loki’s hand tense in yours. “How do you explain me?” Loki asked. “She took my soul first. And according to her account, she led that soul back here to me. I was still coherent. I was up and about while she was in her ‘supposed’ coma guiding the other souls to the beyond.”

“It could be because you are another deity, maybe?” Tony theorized. “Or that you weren’t completely injured. You had to injure those men to give their lives over to her, did you not?” Tony questioned. Loki gave a thoughtful nod.

“For the sake of scientific pursuit, you still looked dead though,” Strange said. Loki looked at him menacingly. You squeezed his hand silently, telling Loki to calm down. “You had not eaten since you all arrived here at the compound. Neither did you sleep. You looked pale and tired. You were not yourself, Loki.” Strange continued. “Now, look at you. She had returned a piece of your soul to you, and you look as annoying and smug as I’ve ever seen you. Like your old self again.” You could hear Strange’s smile even though you couldn’t see it.

“Is that true?” You finally spoke up. Everyone’s eyes turned to look at you. They were all startled that you had been awake.

“Darling…” Loki tried to explain.

“Yes, it’s true,” Strange answered your question. Tony had come closer to you, examining your dark, blank eyes. He was surprised to see you like this. You sat up to greet him. The movement made your hair fall all around you and Tony watched as your hair erased the space it had taken up. As if nothing was there. He was spooked. Not an easy feat considering he’s seen many things as a hero.

“I’m sorry, Loki. I didn’t mean to keep your soul away from you. I didn’t know that you were still here. I would’ve returned as quickly as I could.” Tears started rolling down your face.

“Shh. Shh. It’s ok darling.” Loki said trying to calm you down. “I was fine. As you can see. I was more worried about you. You hadn’t woken up in four days. You had two major surgeries. I thought I was going to lose you. Anyone could’ve deduced that I was just distraught over your absence. That’s all. It wasn’t your fault.” Loki looked at Strange threateningly to keep his mouth shut.

Just then, Thor and Bucky had opened the door. They each carried two boxes of pizza. “Milady you’re awake!” Thor yelled exuberantly.

“Doll, why are you crying? Is the doctor being mean?” Bucky asked and Strange gave an exasperated sigh, throwing his hands in the air. Loki gave Strange a smug grin. “Hope you’re hungry. We bought you Guido’s.”

“Absolutely not!” Strange interjected. “She is on a strict diet for 24 hours until I know her constitution can manage it. I’ll have the nurse send up some food for you.” Strange said to you, as you wiped your tears.

“Thank you, Stephen. For all that you’ve done for me. I’ll find a way to repay your kindness.” You said thanking him.

“No need, my dear. You’re welcome. At least someone here appreciates it.” He shook his head and left to find the nurse. Loki kissed your hand that he still held and went after the doctor.

“Strange!” Loki cried out.

“What is it, Mischief?” Strange said looking over your chart in front of your door.

“Thank you,” Loki said. “I know we might not get along. But I want you to know that Mayari means everything to me. She is my life. It means so much to me that you gave me my life back. So, thank you.”

That caught Stephen by surprise. He wasn’t expecting any gratitude from Loki, especially not one that was so sincere.

“You’re welcome, Loki.” He smiled. “Seriously, though. Don’t give her any pizza. The oil and the cheese…just don’t.”

“I won’t. I promise. But I can’t speak for anyone else in the room.” Loki quickly answered as he closed the door behind him.

⬅️Chapter 21: Destiny | Chapter 23: The Ruler and The Killer➡️

kuya - older brother, até - older sister, sjelevenn - soulmate, Sigyn - victorious/faithful girlfriend.

🏷️Mayari Taglist: @user13cabs @alexs1200 @lokiprompts @huntress-artemiss

[subwaysurf45]

Winter Makes Ice (Ep.7)

Summary:  you’re captured after a brawl at the Avengers building, Bucky and others must save you before Hydra makes a new Winter Soldier out of you, Bucky has given up that title

Words: 3412

Episode: seven

Warning: PTSD, vomiting

Masterlist! Winter Makes Ice Episode: Six

Time: 8:01am 

Date: October 7th 2024

Were you running late?

 Yes.

Your final appointment with Bruce was today and it was scheduled for 8:00 in the morning, you had set your alarm with enough time to get there but Bucky had other plans. While you were getting up Bucky snaked his metal arm around you, he knew you couldn’t break out of it, he pulled you back in his chest so you could stay for a little longer but you managed to bribe him after giving a few kisses down his neck. As you sucked his hand relaxed and when he didn’t see it coming and you snuck out to your bathroom to get ready for the day, you knew he was too tired to get up and pull you back. 

The surgery for both your nose and removing the serum went without a hitch, though you did have a panic attack a day later because it seemed too good to be true for you, everything else went fine. Bruce managed to take samples of your skin and make them into cartilage for your nose, it took a couple days for it to marry and accept your face, it would turn really red and then lose all colour in a matter of minutes. The serum removal took longer than expected, and it turns out what Bruce’s lab was creating wasn’t what he was expecting. The antibiotic would actually get into your bloodstream and split the serum from the red blood cells, but it wouldn’t remove them, the serum would still circulate in your body but just next to the red blood cells. 

A heart-lung by-pass machine was used while you were sedated, you could have been awake but seeing your blood fill a tube and then go back into you while a bag filled with blue liquid was just extra trauma you didn’t want to see. There were always complications with being sedated, but Bucky supported you no matter what. You weren’t left feeling sick after but like you hadn’t slept in days, you found there was a difference between waking up from passing out like you did in the cell and just lack of sleep, Bucky had looked at you quizzically when you said it randomly, but you couldn’t seem to explain. 

You still get headaches from time to time, it normally comes from that same spot in the back of your head and high on your neck, you’d feel around for a scab or scar but would find nothing. There was a bump when you’d checked recently but it seemed as though it was a goose egg form getting hit, but that was so long ago. You didn’t talk about your bump much because you thought people would look at you crazy, some people already did; while others looked at you like you were a ghost. 

As you walked to Banner's lab an agent stopped talking to her friend to look you up and down, and hand came to cover her mouth but you saw the smirk in her eyes. You just shrugged and turned into the lab. 

“You’re late,” Bruce said, he was sat on his stool with everything in hand, clipboard and pen at the ready. 

“Sorry,” you smiled and sat down. 

Bruce began to do the checks, he got good at hiding that he was taking blood, he’d point across the room to show a floating hologram of all your vitals and while you were reading over them he’d quickly stick the needle in to draw a bit of blood. 

He did the same except he pinched your thigh as he stuck in the needle point to make your attention go to your leg instead of the inside of your elbow. 

“Ow!” you slapped his hand away, “I’m used to it by now, and I also trust you and know you’re not trying to stick a foreign serum into me.'' You shook your head and read the file that was left open, “I can’t believe it’s my last test,” you sighed and leaned back in the chair. 

The whirl of the centrifuge wasn’t too loud, Bruce stood beside it with one arm holding his weight on the desk. He watched as you looked over the file again and again, your finger would trace the words and slowly find their way to the corner of the page to flip. The further you got into the file the further back you went, Bruce noticed you tend to stay on your injury report page a bit longer than the others, you’d study the little picture of a person and all the ‘X’s that were drawn where you got hurt; you could barely see the human drawing underneath. He’d watch as you read over every description of the injuries you’ve gotten, one time he asked why and you looked at him and said. 

“Because I go over how to fix each injury, so when I go back into the field I can stay on my toes.” 

But he knew you were just tired of feeling like you weren’t helping when in reality you prompted a medical breakthrough, not everyone gets infected by a mind controlling serum, but the new use of a heart-lung by-pass was being looked at by hospitals. 

Bruce took the blood out of the centrifuge and looked into the vial, there was no trace of blue like there was the first time he did it, just plasma and blood. You were still reading and he knew you’d pass his test so instead of telling you he was starting the evaluation, he just did it. 

“Close that book.” He lowered his voice which sent a boom through the lab. 

You didn’t close it but it did scare you for a second, a little jump but you went right back to reading. You weren’t trying to be mean by not listening but you had to show that you wouldn’t follow orders but rather respond like a normal human, the first day you flinched for the stool when Bruce asked you to walk it over to him but after that you tended to act like he wasn’t in the room. 

“Stand up.” he barked. 

You looked over to him, “no thanks,” you smiled, Bruce smiled back. 

“Can you stand for a second, please?” Bruce squinted and leaned back on the desk, he was challenging how you’d react to an indirect command, it was an offer rather than a command. 

“I don't know, can I?” You tilted your head to the side, a wide smile was being suppressed by a terrible poker face. 

“May you please stand?” Bruce walked over with a proud smile on his face, he was no longer challenging you. 

You just laughed and stood, “only because you asked so nicely,” you let your teeth flash while you both laughed. “Why did you choose standing? That’s like, day one stuff,” you sighed from laughing and closed the file. 

“Because I want to hug you,” he opened his arms wide, “to congratulate you. Now give me a hug, that’s an order!” he giggled but laughed even more when you pretended to scope him out, “just kidding, come ‘ere, kid.” 

You fell into a hug and wrapped your arms tightly around him, Bruce did the same. It was quick but it meant the world. “Thanks for everything, Bruce.” You smiled as you walked out of the room, “I mean it, you really helped me out.” 

“Don't mention it, you’re free!” he opened his arms wide to shew you out of his lab. 

You walked out and closed the door behind you, you only took a few steps before staring off into the distance. “I guess I am…” you muttered to yourself before continuing to walk back to your room. 

As you walked you didn’t even see Bucky in the kitchen “doll!” he called and you turned instantly, “breakfast?” he tilted the frying pan over so you could see french toast. 

Your eating and sleeping were the only things that didn’t seem to get better, nightmares plagued you every night and you could barely stomach a workout smoothie. Bucky would try his best to get you to eat but he typically ate your leftovers instead of making a meal for himself, it was hard to watch because you weren’t gaining weight and he still felt guilty when he’d touch your back and feel every ridge. 

“I’ll have a bit,” you smiled and walked over, “I’m a free bird now.” you commented as he slipped the bread on your plate. 

“Way to go, babe, I knew you could do it.” He scrunched his nose and took the stool beside you, “eat slow and as much as you want, no worries.” He kissed your temple before pulling out his phone. 

You slowly started to eat, you put the corner of the bread in your mouth and chewed slowly. The sweetness and the flavour was still overpowering, you weren’t used to this much intensity and it only made you feel nauseous. As much as Bucky acted like he wasn’t paying attention you could see his eyes look over as far as he can to gauge your reaction, when you’d catch him looking he’d just cough and look forward. You only got four bites in before turning your nose up and pushing the plate to Bucky. He didn’t want to seem disappointed but he was, not in you but rather himself, nothing was working. 

“What do you think you can eat?” He asked softly. 

“Plain yogurt?” you questioned. 

“I’ll give anything a shot,” he breathed and stood. The yogurt was far back in the fridge but he found it eventually, he poured a little bowl, “you want granola?” he asked. 

“Just yogurt,” she sheepishly replied, a thin line formed on your lips. 

He served it up and went back to eating the french toast, you scooped it up and took a spoonful. It was so plain and boring, nothing tingled on your taste buds. There was no category for it, it wasn't sweet or sour, it wasn’t savoury; it was just plain. The metallic taste from the spoon had more power than the yogurt itself. Nothing to chew, no berries or granola. 

It was perfect. 

In no time you scarfed it down, the spoon clicked on the bowl as you scraped for the ends of it. Bucky had been cooking your favourite foods to make you feel at home, you liked spice and sweetness normally. You’d turn down yogurt a month ago if it didn’t have your favourite granola in it, but what both you and Bucky didn’t realize was that you started with crazy flavours instead of the basics. Butter and bread, plain crackers, and maybe some almonds sounded great right now.  

Bucky looked over in shock to see you done with your food, he watched as you went to the pantry and pulled out some unsalted crackers. You plopped a few into your mouth and just waited to see if your body would reject it, but it didn’t.

“Guess I went too fast, too soon, huh?” he let out an unhappy laugh, “you could’ve been eating for a while…” he muttered and stood. He was exhausted, the darker circles under his eyes and the flatness of his skin didn’t go unnoticed. You woke up every night screaming and thrashing around in the bed, the sheets would be piled on the floor from your arms swinging around. As much as Bucky wanted some sleep, he knew for a fact that you’d been in disposition before, you’d been the one to gently ease him out of a nightmare for three weeks straight.   

“You did your best and I love you for it,” You smiled and leaned across the counter to kiss his lips, he sat back down again, “I would have done the same thing, if it makes you feel better.”

Bucky just rubbed his face and looked up to you, “how?” was all he asked. 

“How...what?” you giggled, but Bucky didn’t crack a smile. 

“Why are you so upbeat right now, I get it you finished your tests with Banner but, god, I don’t know how you’re so happy?” He didn’t sound angry but more in disbelief, if it were him, Bucky knew he’d be curled into a ball in the middle of the bed for days, there wouldn’t be anything to make him happy. 

You just sighed and sat down next to him again, “I’m not upbeat right now, if I’m being honest,” you looked forward and the sleek grey cupboards, “I can’t train because my stitches will fall out, I can’t run for the same reason. Half of the team treats me like fine china while the other half still punches me in the arm when they tell a funny joke, if I’m hanging out with Steve he will ask if I’m okay after every little thing while Tony doesn’t seem to understand that I don’t like sneak attacks anymore.” You wiped down your face with both hands, “my head still hurts like crazy, especially in that one spot in the back, everyone is too loud and I’ve been called ‘too quiet’ too many times for me to count.” You finally looked over to Bucky who had the saddest eyes, his lips curled down as he scanned over you, “you’re the only one who I can be, somewhat, happy around because you get it. Yes, you can be very cautious but you’ve backed off when I’ve said no and you’ve learned not to push when I can’t remember much. Bucky,” you cupped his face with one hand, you could feel him push into it, “you see me happy around you because you’re the only one who knows how to put a smile on my face right now, and I’m so happy it’s you.” Before he could say anything you pulled him in for a kiss, he hummed into it and reached up to place his hand over yours; it was still resting on his stubbled cheek. 

“I didn’t know I was doing all that right, I thought I was failing.” Bucky muttered against your lips, you could feel the sadness in his voice. 

“I still can’t lift my arm up all the way without it hurting, you wash my hair and put it in the clip when I ask, you might not have figured that food out or my nightmares but you do the little things, and that’s what makes it better.” Bucky’s arms moved down to hold you at your waist, you were still close. All he could do was smile, the kind of smile you use when you get a prize for a thing you really didn’t think mattered or when you’re embarrassed of how you fell in front of everyone; his lips turned down but his eyes smiled. 

The rest of your morning flowed into your afternoon easily, you’d spent some time just lounging in the bed and keeping each other warm. Little make-out session might brew but nothing went too far, it wouldn’t for a while and you both agreed on that. At one point you fell asleep curled up against Bucky’s chest, he stayed still and when it came time, he helped you out of your nightmare. The little kisses littered your face until you were calm again, he didn’t dare to fall asleep at this point because he knew you would too and being woken up by twitches and little pleads for help weren’t something he enjoyed for his own mental health. 

Time: 9:30pm

Date: October 7th 2024

Everyone filed into the cinema room for movie night, this was your first one since you came back. Bucky had tried to talk you out of it due to it being October and a horror movie was on the list, apparently it was a early 2000’s slasher, basically the worst movie to come back to. You were done with hiding away from the team, you wanted to see them again, scary movies didn’t bother you before because you knew they were just movies and alien killers weren’t real, you really didn’t know how much could change now. 

There was a bowl of popcorn for you and Bucky, you sat in the corner so you were nestled into the armrest and the back pillow, Bucky was on your left, cautiously watching you as Nat queued up the movie. 

“I now present,” she held her arms in front of the screen, “Camp Blood!” The movie faded in from black and a hush fell over the team. People snuggled deeping into their blankets and got ready for the movie, you just leaned your head on Bucky’s shoulder and threw a few pieces of popcorn- without butter -in your mouth.

Not even a half an hour later you were really shaken up, the gore and the blood had slowly broken down your walls and gotten to your head. You had hid it so well Bucky genuinely had no idea even though he was checking in on you after every kill, a little kiss to your temple before a double check. 

“I have to pee,” you whispered to Bucky and left the room. 

You sprinted down and to the back where there was a door to the outside, the air was suffocating and you couldn’t breathe. It seemed everything you could remember was flashing in your mind all at once while new memories were coming into play, it was all so overwhelming and you couldn’t handle it. You pushed the door open and stumbled to your knees and the cold fall weather opened your lungs so wide you thought they were going to pop, the gasps came out unevenly and some were quick shots of air. Your hand was pulling and scratching at the finally held bruise on your neck, it was like you could feel the chains slowly wrapping around you like a snake's tail, coming up around your neck and squeezing tightly. 

With one push, the chains in your mind snapped and all the popcorn you had eaten came back out, right onto the deck that was power washed three days ago. A few pieces of kernels got stuck when you took your first breath in but after spitting them out you could finally breathe again. 

You sat back up on your feet and just looked into the night sky, it was too cold for you to be out here but it was peaceful. With the serum you would have been fine with this weather but that had left you, you were free now, if you wanted you could run down the grass into the forest and never see anyone ever again. It was horrifying that that idea was pleasant to you, you’d never see Bucky ever again but you could be free. 

One foot hit the grass, but then the sound of a lock pulled you from your fantasy, you looked over your shoulder to see the lights off and the red emergency lights spinning around. You ran up to bang on the door but no one could see or hear you, “let me on!” you screamed for anyone but you knew these glass doors were sound proof. “Fuck!” 

“Soldat,” you froze, the voice you remembered vividly rang through your head, you shook it off and kept pounding on the door, “they’re never going to help you,” it chanted in your mind. 

“No, let me in!” you screamed again, your head hit the glass door in defeat, the voice mocked you in your brain. You pulled away from the glass and looked into the building, but then your focal point focused on the reflection. 

“Soldat, break in and kill them all.” the voice said, the slick hair and the notch in his brow, the leader that got away. To your horror, your break straightened and your chin went up, you turned towards the man who never gave you his name. He dressed in all black and wore a Hydra pin over his heart, “you really think we’d let you get away?” he asked, “you really think we only gave you the serum?”

“What is happening?” you asked, your mind was being taken over. 

“I’ll say it again. Soldat, break in and kill them all.” his smile grew. 

You didn’t want to, but somehow the other part of you did. 

“copy.” 

And the glass shattered with one punch. 

Winter Makes Ice tag list: @small-death-and-codeine​ @commonintrest​ @buckyys-doll​  @lil-baby-nor @wafflesncream​​

let me know if you want a tag!!!

[rocketonthemoon]

Rocket! I must ask you an important question! (If you have already answered or it's too personal, please feel free to ignore)

How did you feel after top surgery? Was it weird? Did it feel right? Because I am considering it. That and other things.

Hey there! No worries - I don't know if I've talked about this really in depth so I'm definitely more than happy to because I think there's a lot of talk about the lead up but maybe not as much for the aftermath.

I'm putting it all under a cut because I ramble a little bit but also possible tw for frank talk of dysphoria/dysmorphia

SO I will start by saying that overall it was the best decision I ever made for myself aside from starting T. And I'm going to talk about my BEFORE surgery a bit more than maybe you were initially asking for because it really helped me get around to the after

I went through puberty around 12 years old and I cannot overstate how much I hated my chest. While I've always admitted and will stand by the fact that I didn't mind identifying/being a girl, I really, really did not like my chest. Didn't help I was 5'0" and a size 34D so they were unfortunately rather obvious. I wore sports bras every day for years and years and would do everything in my power to avoid low cut tops or even button ups despite the fact that I liked how I looked in them. I would've slept in my better sports bras if I could and definitely found older/loser ones to take with me on sleepovers.

But for a lot of my life I just assumed this was like, par the course, in terms of gender. I think I've said a little bit about how I flat out didn't know being trans was a thing until I was in college. I knew in an abstract sort of way about dysmorphia - a few girls I was in class with struggled with EDs and being early '10s there was what felt like a lot of talk about being "too skinny" - but being unhappy with your body was just kinda waved off as being part of a teenage girl. I was assured I'd grow into it, I'd settle in to it, I'd learn to love my body, especially since I wasn't unhappy with my size so much as my shape. I wanted to be stronger, more square and broad than the round-ness I thought my breasts made me.

When I did learn of the concept in college, I jumped on the idea even before I knew I was transmasc. The couple months I identified as NB I still was binding and desperately researching surgeons that would accept patients either on low doses or not doing T at all, because for me it wasn't a question of When so much as How once I knew it was an options I could do. It wasn't until after I started T that it really became a way for me to feel comfortable in my masculine body but even before it was just a matter of "I want them fucking gone".

Surgery itself was nerve wracking - I’ve got trauma surrounding surgery and I wanted my nipples not grafts, I wanted sensation still in my chest - and yeah there were a couple moments where I thought, maybe this wasn't the best timing. Maybe I hadn't done enough research, maybe I was moving too fast, maybe if I waited a little bit longer I would get a little more comfortable in my gender expression. But I was scared if I didn’t do it IMMEDIATELY I wouldn’t ever do it for some reason. And then there was the immediate aftermath of the slight emotional fall out.

Personally, I have always had a problem of things not living quite up to the Glamour and Gloss that either I build up in my head or that people say it will all be. That being said for me, I didn't have a glorious wonder moment immediately after surgery. I didn't have the touching, hand-to-chest, tears-in-eyes after seeing my chest flat for the first time. Honestly, I felt like I had possibly made a mistake. My bandages were messy (my fault, I'm squirmy), my stomach was bloated from the extra air in my torso, and I felt gross from not being able to shower as quickly as I wanted to. My arms looked too small next to the emptiness of my chest, my shoulders way too curved in, my head sitting like a bobble head on my neck. Everything was new and worse it looked wrong in the newness of it. I did not recognize myself in my own body and it was honestly, very terrifying.

(it is worth noting at this point in time, I was five months on T so my body was new ANYWAYS and it was just exaggerating the newness of it all)

But once I healed up enough to be able to move around on my own, and then enough to pull a shirt over my head instead of a button up I felt much more settled. And then even more so as I started working out again. It was a slow growth of remembering how much I had been miserable not even six months beforehand with my chest. And I mean like it took months to really feeling like looking at myself in the mirror wasn't strange any more. There had been a few nine months pre Gender Discovery of my version of hyper-femininity of low-cut tops and actual bras but it was nothing compared to finding the serenity of not feeling like I was purposefully making myself smaller because of something I disliked about myself.

All this to say, I don't know if it feels right now that they're gone. I don't know that I necessarily fit the story of "living in the wrong body" that some of my trans siblings have lived. Mine has always been a tinkering of what feels better. I feel like I look better with a beard than without and I feel better about my body without breasts than I ever did with. I like that I'm broader I like the more streamlined look for my torso. Every now and then I feel like my chest is too light, like I'm missing the weight, and often I get nerve tingles along my scars. I still don't like attention on my nipples when have sexy times with partners but I'm learning that's less an issue with my body image/feeling like I thought it was for so long and more just my own preferences of what I like when getting it on. I still don't like being in public without a shirt on but I'm also rounder in my tummy than I was before surgery thanks hormone fat distribution and COVID cutting down my gym time.

I don't know how helpful this all has been for you or if it resonates with you at all, but I hope more than anything it does reassure you it's ok to be not immediately thrilled. I think we place a lot pressure on the idea of immediate gratification with these sorts of things and it's ok to come around to the idea. This is a BIG THING that does permanently affect your outward presentation and it's ok to be nervous and hesitant. My advice would be to really think about the WHY you might want this in the long run - personally I don't think there's a bad answer so long as you are doing it for you. While top surgery helped me pass for more a masculine appearance ultimately it was more about fixing something I didn't like about my body for almost a decade. I feel loads better about myself partially because I feel more settled with my appearance as a whole but also being able to lay in my own bed shirtless and not feel uncomfortable is probably the biggest win for me overall.

[kyle-valenti]

burnout only feels like burning

2.7k / Summary: kyle valenti doesn't have the same quarantine as his friends; an exploration of kyle's trauma during covid as a doctor. (tw depression & other triggers you’d imagine with this subject)

read & comment/ ao3

A little like the virus itself, Kyle’s relationship with his mask begins with worry, annoyance, and then pain. He’s more than happy to have the proper N-95 mask as they begin to get their first case at Roswell General but then a couple more patients trickle in and within a few days his skin is irritated and itching. Maybe it’s the news, maybe it’s the texts from his friends that he’s increasingly missing, but when the Regiment starts spouting off about how COVID is a joke he thinks it might be affecting his nerves too. By week three his former red mark left by the mask has become a permanent feature to his face and by week five it’s not a mark but a bruise instead. Blisters and cracks in his skin litter his hands from over-washing. His feet become so overused the pads of his feet feel numb and bruised and he wears through an entire pair of shoes.

Positivity has fled from his life by week seven and now he’s inside of a survival mode he’s never experienced. He thought after last year he’d be used to anything the world (or universe, rather, given all these aliens) could throw at him. Now what feels foolish, he had believed that there was nothing that could be worse than the previous pain of losing a patient or finding out his father had experimented on people’s lives. 

When he’s out of ventilators and CPAP machines because Albuquerque needs them more and he has to choose whether or not to save the life of an eighty five year old or a thirty two year old he remembers from high school, he breaks.

 Guilt is one thing, grief is another, but the pure rage he feels knowing that Max Evans is out on the town patrolling as some fucking cop and not someone who could heal most of this hospital makes him want to commit actual murder. Maybe trading the blood of an alien on his hands would feel less heart-wrenching. But no. Max had brought back Rosa and had paid the price. Quelling his anger, he went back to work.

 He slept at the hospital most nights in the height of it. Sure the couch was rough, but it was better than the other on-call doctor beds down the hall. Three twelve hour ER shifts of a usual work week doubled to five days of thirteen hour shifts. Soon there’s a week where he pulls double shifts for an entire week when one of his nurses is urgently hospitalized herself. Hospital directors had left them with no PPE except contaminated masks to reuse. Maria, Isobel, and Rosa are in the forefront of a drive to make and donate masks to his hospital after some social media posts that he doesn’t even see until the cloth masks arrive and his medical assistants give him their handwritten note. It makes him smile, but smiling feels so foreign that he almost wants to break from that.

 Visitors are no longer allowed which means Kyle isn’t allowed to use his bedside manner to comfort the family of patients. He has to facetime mothers, spouses, and children and hold the phone over a patient who can’t breathe without machine assistance and pretend that everything is fine and that there’s still hope despite the hypoxia and lack of rising vitals. Ignore that if the patient goes into cardiac arrest more than once, the kindest thing to do given prognosis is to let the patient pass. Resuscitation and DNR (a patient’s begging request to not be resuscitated) becomes a word he uses in his daily work and not simply for intense surgeries.

 Exhaustion isn’t a deep enough adjective to describe the fugue state he goes into. File to file, room to room, ventilator to next… he isn’t surprised when his body starts to wear down. When he no longer feels hunger and instead feels all too hot and dizzy. Telling himself it’s just because of how much he’s exerting his body while covered in layers and layers of protective clothing doesn’t help the fact that he’s starting to have more trouble breathing as he walks the hallways at a fast pace. When he begins to cough, he does what he promised himself he wouldn’t do and drives out post-shift to the desert cabin of Max Evans.

 Part of him is too desperately tired to knock, but when he arrives on the property with the cop car idle and the house dark and at peace for the night, his fury greets him with the embrace of a long-lost friend. Knuckles pound at the wood and Max answers the door with surprise and a general look of defense, and Kyle tries not to immediately punch him in the face at the fact he looks like he had woken up from a comfortable sleep.

 “Heal me.” Kyle manages to spit out.

 “I—what’s wrong?”

 “Beginning stages of respiratory distress, fever, nausea—what do you fucking think?”

 “Kyle—,” Max starts to say, the hesitation deepening, and that does it.

 “No. I have not asked you for anything in all of this, Evans. Anything!” He shouts, voice hoarse. “Not when people got sick, not when they started dying, not even when we started having to let people die on purpose. And you know what? I wasn’t going to even come and ask you now, but I can’t get sick when I’m the one here fucking saving lives out of the two of us and you’re just cruising the streets handing out goddamn traffic tickets.”

 Max’s face isn’t stony like it usually is when Kyle’s yelling at him; this time it’s crushed and guilty but not nearly enough. “What kind of hours you work this week, Evans? A nice 8 to 4? Did you get facetime with Isobel or your mom, maybe binge through a few books and movies after you’re home? Did you sit down and eat a nice dinner and or go over to drink a few beers with Guerin since you can’t get sick? Even get a nice eight hours of sleep in your own bed in your nice quiet home?”

 No response.

 “I am not asking to sequence your DNA like Liz. All I am asking is for you to let me heal people since you don’t want to.”

 A night breeze is all that makes noise for a moment as Kyle catches his breath and glares at Max, who stands quietly but is staring down at his boots before he finally looks up and nods. Max steps forward then, and Kyle sees that his eyes are actually filled with tears. Temper deflating, but still not subsiding entirely, given that not much else is able to be done; Kyle lets Max place a hand on his shoulder and feels the extremely weird feeling spread throughout his body. Something more electric than anything else, which God knew made a lot more sense concerning his powers and how the body operated with electrical nerve impulses, but that is a train of thought better left for another day. He wants to just walk away, and he almost does, but he still mutters a “thank you” before he does so.

When his nurse dies a few days later and he watches as the staff double bag her body to take to the morgue, he escapes to his office and crashes on his couch with sobs. There’s no one here to support him. He can’t go to his mother’s home and collapse into one of her comforting embraces without risking infecting her. He can’t get wasted at the Wild Pony with Maria when it’s closed. He can’t visit Rosa or Arturo at the Crashdown. Keeping his friends and family safe meant keeping them away from him. Keeping them safe meant he needed to stop pushing his head into his hands to try and control the sound of his crying and get back to work at saving the lives around them.

He gets put on leave by the hospital administrator when he’s almost arrested for decking Wyatt Long in the hospital parking lot as the idiot stood outside with a sign rallying Regiment members to make sure the hospital was told it was killing people on purpose for the election. If Jenna hadn’t been the officer on duty he would have been cuffed and put on record, jeopardizing his license, but there was some self-preserving part of him that desperately wished for his practice to be over anyway. He’s not even sure how Jenna handles it, honestly, all he remembers is her dropping him off at his house from her patrol car like she had been nothing but an uber. No matter how angry and adamant he gets, his boss refuses to bend, saying it’s for his own good given the connections the Long’s have in the town and how Kyle has worked almost 74 of the past 76 days.

Alex is the first to visit him, unannounced. When the doorbell rings Kyle is mindlessly pretending to watch some tv show in his living room that’ll distract him from his consuming thoughts about patients, so he doesn’t get up to answer. He checks his silent phone to see if he was forewarned of a visitor but sees nothing. Unsure if it’s his boss or a patient’s family, he forces himself up onto his sore feet and opens the door after grabbing a regular mask off the coffee table. Black face mask on and standing further out from the door on the porch is Alex, the usual gruff hello turned into something soft. “Hey.”

Kyle heaves a sigh. He had wondered when the pity visits would begin. “Hey. You really shouldn’t be around me, you know.”

“I’m clearly a minimum of eight feet away in an open space while masked.” Alex smarts back. “Either way, I’m worried about you.”

Scoffing, he shakes his head. “Don’t fucking worry about me. Worry about getting sick, because if I have to see another person I care about die, I--,”

“Kyle.” the other says too kindly, the sort of pacifying voice Alex reserved for only the most dire situations. “I have no idea what you’re dealing with in specifics, but my experiences do overlap with yours in some places.”

“And?”

Maybe it came out a little too rude, because Alex raises a brow, but then sighs instead. “And I’m just checking in to make sure you know people care about you.”

“Thanks, Manes.” Kyle huffs in return, managing not to roll his eyes because focusing on being blunt and abrasive was so much easier.

“Just be careful.” Alex interjects before Kyle could close the door and turn back to his show. “Dealing with the trauma of what you’re dealing with gets dark very quickly.”

“Because I punched Wyatt Long?” he spits back sarcastically.

“No, because the suicide rates for healthcare professionals are drastically increasing along with the rates of PTSD diagnoses.” Alex says flatly, ever one to be unfazed by sarcasm. “And I’ve lost more active duty members to suicide than I have combat.”

Kyle pauses, caught. Maybe Alex had known he would be, because there isn’t some way he can give a smile and reassuring wave with him like he could his mother or Liz. While Kyle hadn’t actively thought of a plan, he couldn’t pretend he had noticed signs of depression the second he was alone in his house. 

“The quiet is the worst part, right?” Alex says, all but reading his mind. “Not always because of the flashbacks, although those are horrible, but because if things are quiet then--,”

“--people are dying.” Kyle finishes, his voice raspier by the end of the three words. “Yeah, well, mine still are.”

“They’re going to.” Is what felt like a cold response, but somehow gave Kyle the understanding he’s been craving. “They’re going to die and because of your profession you’re going to be able to save some of them. Which will make you think you’re responsible to save all of them and because you’re a good person you’re going to feel guilty in ways that no one will understand for being human and failing to.”

“Failing is all I do lately.” Kyle replies. “Usually the wins feel higher than the losses as a doctor, but with this-- and no one outside of it cares. They go outside and yell about how this is about a fucking election and when it’s not the patients, it’s the hospital pretending they don’t have enough money to buy us proper protection. Or the government saying this will all go away and that it’s just a light cold.”

Alex gives a small nod. “I know. I also know telling you the same advice that you’d give another doctor of trying not to burn out and instead taking a small rest is useless. So I’m just going to drop off these dvd’s and make you report back to me the difference when you’re done.”

Star Trek and Star Wars. Kyle finds a smile tug on his lips. Alex leaves with one on his as well.

When he gives a response to Alex a few days later on how Star Wars is better not more than a few minutes later Deluca is texting him with recommendations on joining her Buffy the Vampire Slayer rewatch. There’s something sweet about the fact that people have been clearly talking about him, even if definitely borderline creepy with how nosy his circle of friends can be, but he sighs and lets Maria add him to the group chat she has with Rosa and Liz where they review each episode after the fact and even chimes in every now and then. Isobel gets added not long after due to an Instagram story Maria shares and then the group has moved onto Friends after everyone shoots down Liz for suggesting Grey’s Anatomy on behalf of Kyle. Alex is also in there, even if it’s rare he chimes in with an opinion, but once they start Friends his commentary about how much he hates Ross that gets the entire group riled up does tend to make him laugh. Even Kyle agrees with Forest-- whose opinion had been shared by Alex-- that Chandler had all too many queer-coded scenes with Joey.

His mother facetimes him daily, which given how they both don’t exactly go out much starts to become monotonous, until she begins to give in and talk about memories she has of their father. Tidbits she never would have shared with him about their adult life when he was a child or teenager. He in turn facetimes Rosa and shares some of the memories of their father as well, which as much as she tries to pretend she doesn’t want for Arturo’s sake she clearly does with the million questions she asks every single time and the small smile she gives him at the end of their calls.

Liz updates him on her work which is a nice reprieve from everyone’s normalcy and lack of medical jargon sometimes, especially when she gives him inside info on covid vaccine studies not yet published to the general public yet. Everything in him wants this more than anything else in the world right now and he texts her almost every day asking if she’s heard more news even when he knows things take time. She’s a good sport about everything, even when he shares in a very angry rant about Max Evans and how they could have helped so many more people so much more quickly with his DNA-- however selfish that might have been.

When he goes back to work, he feels refreshed, even when it makes things hit like a freight train once more. Lost in a sea of inadequacy, his feelings extend past the pandemic. Even when things return to a level of normalcy and the cases subside he gets alien medical drama thrown in his face once more, and he starts to wonder if he’ll ever recover. If he was wrong to choose this calling. If the fact he can’t help Max or Maria is a sign from above or his father that it’s time to make some career move or change location like his mother and Liz. But, like he tells Michael Guerin. He can’t think he can face his future children and say he walked away from this. Or let people die by quitting, just like Rosa warns. And so he stays and tries to heal both other people and himself.

[conclave-of-knives]

Feast/Sleepless - tw: uuuuh body horror? A little. Gender affirming surgery mention

Everything was dark. Blacker than black. Shadows upon shadows, it was as if light itself had never penetrated the space. It hadn't had it? This was part of the void, filled with black, monstrous beings beyond Talah's worst nightmares. He could hear the skittering, but he felt it first. Dropped on his belly, they were slimy yet sharp, bulbus yet scurrying. They burrowed into his flesh, slipped under his skin, feasting on his insides and leaving a disease, a corruption behind.

"Javinth! Help-" Talah whimpered, hoarse from his own screams. Something bigger was pinning him down, sharp stabbed through his shoulder, slicing and peeling the muscle from his arm. The more he fought the heavier the feeling on his chest. Tighter. Cutting and cracking… ripping him open and squeezing down on his ribs until they oozed with bile that just as quickly turned into more tiny skittering blobs.

He couldn't breath. It hurt. More than it had all hurt before. More than training, more than dying. He didn't want to die. He didn't want to be corrupted. He just wanted to be himself he and had worked so hard to become himself. "Make it stop… Dad!"

Suddenly something gripped his shoulders. Something real had him making, equally suddenly, the corruption and darkness seem like illusions. The darkness started to fade, to grey, to warm light. Something comforting was calling him name.

"Talah!" Zaer's voice was stern with worry, but not without warmth, matching the grip he had on the boy's shoulders as he tried to rouse him from the first sleep his son had in days. The first sleep he'd managed to get the boy take since surgery. "Wake up." He ordered.

Talah complied with a sudden gasp of air and a sputtering cough after. He hurt. His chest was still tight, still felt like it was skittering, and chewed through, even now awake he could hear the scratching and clawing in the distance until Zaer spoke his name again; demanded his focus. "You're going to pull your stitches."

It had been three years since the last time he died, almost to the day. Three years of black out, medicated sleep. Three years of medicines and shifts in lifestyle. Three years, putting him nearly to eighteen, he should be able to handle trauma from his childhood. In order to get the results he wanted, he had to forgo the potions that kept the nightmares at bay, but after three long years, he was no more prepared for them than when he returned home.

Once Talah was aware of himself, his father, and wasn't going to try to lash out from his dreams, Zaer's hold on him relaxed and the quiet warrior gently brushed the boy's hair back from his forehead to also check his temperature.

"I'm okay… just another bad dream." Talah flopped back against his pillows with an exhausted sigh. He wasn't getting anymore rest, not this morning, and soon enough it would be time to change the bandages wrapping his new pecks and he had to blink back the internal horror that they would be covered on corrupted black veins. It was just a dream. "Coffee? … maybe pancakes? And bacon?" Talah offered big, pleading puppy eyes at his parent, not that he needed to as the old elf got up to start a new day a bit too early.

"Call for me if you need anything, no getting up until you're healed." Was all Zaer offered like he was one more precious whelp to raise and heal and not like he had spent the whole night nearly sleeplessly worried about Talah; watching over him knowing before too long he'd be all grown up and his job would be done.

@zaerathian @daily-writing-challenge @javinth @batandmole

[secret-engima]

Yknow how the Cloud-Prom thing is a thing? Yeah well I was thinking of it in reverse. Prompto reborn as Cloud.

FINALLY FOUND THIS ASK.

It’s been buried so long I thought I’d never find it again.

BUCKLE UP NEW AU RAMBLE TIME AND IT’S A LOONNNNGG ONE.

Also before we begin *yeets canon FF7 timeline because it MAKES NO SENSE*.

There.

...

-Prompto wakes up when he’s 4 and he falls into a stream tainted with a LOT of mako while fleeing from bullies.

-Well technically he wakes up two weeks after that little mishap because mako poisoning plus sudden memory reboot is an Ouch and took a while for his tiny body to acclimate too. His mom (he has an actual non-adoptive mom now, that’s weird) is so relieved he’s okay and Prompto feels ... really bad that now he doesn’t entirely feel like her kid.

-He IS her kid and he knows it, but he remembers a time when he wasn’t, when he was an escaped science project and a Prince’s friend and a Crownsguard who saw the world end and then pick itself back up afterward. It’s impossible to go back to being ... well ... who he was before he Remembered.

-His mother accepts his new personality changes and “quirks” and Prompto loves her all over again for it.

-Cloud Strife is now a strange mix of too old and mature for his age and a bubbly, cheerful sunshine child. The residents look down on him because he “has no father”, but Prompto has suffered worse than their petty scorn and refuses to let it bother him.

-The local bullies learn to leave him alone pretty fast too, because Cloud may be small, but he has all of Prompto’s memories to back up his techniques, and bullies dislike pain. His mother just scoffs at the angry parents who complain about twisted wrists and black eyes and says maybe if they controlled their own children, hers wouldn’t have to resort to violence to defend themselves. It makes them no friends in Nibelheim, but there are a few neighbors who don’t buy into the town’s cliquish nature and they keep trouble away from the Strife home.

-Cloud is 7 when his mother finally stops letting him just handle her unloaded rifle with constant supervision and actually teaches him to shoot it. It feels young to Prompto, but Prompto had grown up in the sheltered city of Insomnia. This is Nibelheim, and Nibelheim’s wildlife don’t care how young he is or that they aren’t “supposed” to enter the town when they are young and dumb and hungry. Nibelheim also doesn’t have much in the way of a grocery store, and if the table needs food, someone is going to have to go shoot it.

-This at least, is familiar. Even in a world where he is no longer Prompto, and he’s pretty sure the world has been taken over by an evil Niflheim empire knockoff pretending to be a power company, he’d long gotten used to having to defend a settlement from things with teeth and go hunting to provide food.

-But back to the Evil Empire Pretending to Be A Power Company that he’s pretty sure has taken over most of the world- yeah. That was a nasty shock to figure out when he was 6. It’s nothing overt ... sorta. Just- you know- the way the elders grumble over how they were always small, but they were never ABANDONED until the reactor came and everyone started to work there rather than learn the old trades. The ivory carving and fur-tanning, the jewelry made of bones and fangs and shed dragon scales and the parkas made from wolf fur and rabbit hide that were second to none in quality. It hadn’t been the most thriving trade perhaps, but it had been something. Now all there was was the reactor, and that ... sat wrong with Prompto. There was also the rampant propaganda that was always pro Shinra, the news that this power company had just started a war (???) using their super soldiers (??????) and honestly why no one saw anything wrong with that was a mystery to him.

-Cloud is honestly glad that he’s living in such a backwater town. The farther away he is from That Nonsense the better. At least until he’s old enough to be able to properly fight and wield dual pistols like he used to.

-His mother buys him his own pistol when he’s 10. He’s responsible enough for it, and Nibelheim doesn’t really care about things like age laws that city folk do. Every child here knows how to safely use a firearm of some kind out of sheer necessity, even if most of them are not allowed to have their own until they’re closer to 12 or 13. He still primarily uses the family hunting rifle, since hunting for supper with a pistol is stupid, but he carries the pistol everywhere he goes in case something decides to try to make a meal out of him. It’s a battered old revolver, but Prompto spent ten years keeping equipment functional with minimal supplies, and soon his little Quicksilver is as fast and reliable as any “new” model.

-His mother doesn’t ask how he already knew how to disassemble and clean the pistol. She never asks when he knows things he has no right to, and he’s glad for that.

-Cloud is 11 when the abandoned Shinra Mansion stops being abandoned and those instincts that kept Prompto alive through the Long Night start screaming. It could be something innocuous, but those military trucks pulling around to the back of the mansion don't look like they’re only carrying supplies, and he’s not the only townsperson who thought they heard pained sobbing and smelled burnt flesh from inside some of those vehicles. Cloud thinks about keeping his nose out of it, he’s physically only a child after all, but the rest of him knows that if something goes wrong with ... whatever this is, then his entire town could be at risk of “disappearing” if Shinra is as bad as he thinks they are.

-The townsfolk aren’t supposed to go in there, too many monsters and it being private Shinra property after all, but the kids like their dares and their scary stories, and all of them know the secret ways to get inside and out again that bigger monsters can’t fit through and adults don’t notice. Cloud creeps around cautiously, pistol loaded just in case, and he can’t get INSIDE the actual building without being spotted, but he sees enough.

-This mansion isn’t a mansion. It’s a LAB. Those trucks were carrying lab equipment and supplies.

-And human victims.

-Cloud rushes home and throws up in the back yard and all he can think about is how two weeks ago the news mentioned a “radar malfunction” or something that led to an entire town being bombed out of existence and oh wouldn’t that explain the smell of burned skin?

-Cloud tries to stay out of it, but he CAN’T. He can’t in good conscience, so he keeps sneaking around, avoiding the guards and wondering what, exactly, to DO.

-He finds the ... disposal area and Regrets™, but every time he sees someone being thrown down there, he creeps over to check for a pulse. Just in case. Just in case.

-He’s thinking of stopping for his own sanity, because all of this is bringing up every trauma and nightmare he tried to forget from Prompto’s life, when he-

-Finds a little girl. Bloody and injured, with something imbedded in one frail hand that looks like shards of materia, and he expects her to be dead like all the others except she’s not and Prompto breathlessly carries her away on his back to hide in one of the tiny mountain caves he’s turned into a hideout over the years. He keeps a lot of stuff in there that his mother would never allow if she knew, things like a restore materia he won off a drifter in poker (and oh the man’s face at being outmatched by a 6 year old), and a surgical kit he ... found out in the wilds (it wasn’t like the man would need it anymore, the wolves had seen to that).

-He uses the restore materia five times before he’s sure the girl is as stable as she’s going to get on such short notice, then he stuffs a rag in her mouth and ties down her arm, because he may not know a lot about this world, but he knows shards of materia in her hand CAN’T be good for her health, long term or short. Materia absorbs magic from people on skin contact, so even in shards, there’s a high chance it will absorb her magic until there’s none left and then start going after her life force.

-Two hours later, he uses one last restore to seal shut the hand he just extracted the last bits of materia out of, throws the materia shards into the nearby mako spring that has been providing his light out of sheer spite to whoever imbedded the things in the first place, then passes out because he’s an 11 year old who just used six restore spells and performed field surgery on someone’s hand using his own tools and the bottle of alcohol he smuggled up here a long time ago as disinfectant.

-He wakes up a long time later, and by the time he gets back down the mountain to find his mom, the town is looking for him. He tells no one what really happened, but he needs SOME cover story because he’s kinda covered in blood from that whole- rescued a child out of a death pit and then did surgery on her hand thing. He makes up a story of a hunt gone wrong and hiding in a small cave until the wolf pack left and is grateful no one asks to see if his pistol is out of ammo or not. They just buy his story and move on to talking about hunting down this supposed wolf pack.

-When his mother takes him home, he tells her the truth. It’s the first time she’s doubted him since he was 4 years old. Shinra has already left again as suddenly as they’d come so it’s safe to take the bigger of the hidden entrances into the mansion grounds. He shows her how to get in, and while the death pit is a pile of smoking ash now, the signs (the bones) are still there and she is horrified. She is more horrified when he lets her into his secret cave and shows her the little girl, huddled up in his secret hideout’s fur blankets, still unconscious and deathly pale but at least not actively dying anymore.

-She agrees that this must remain a secret, for when Shinra eventually came back.

-They keep her hidden up there for three months with only a handful of other people in the know (all folk who Claudia has trusted with her life before and who she knows won’t go blab to the mayor). They feed her and care for her and discover she’s lost all her memories. They know about Kalm, it’s not hard to guess that her parents are likely dead and burned by now.

-Claudia names her Storm and says she will take care of Storm now, and Cloud hugs the stunned girl close and whispers that he’s always wanted a little sister.

-Six months after Kalm’s burning and Shinra Mansion’s return to empty haunted building status, Claudia lets the rumors spread that her cousin has died and left a child to be sent to Nibelheim to live with her. Since Claudia has always been closed mouthed about her family, this rumor is believed wholesale, and when one of those other folk in the know sneaks Storm down to the next town over a few hours before Claudia arrives in her battered old truck to “pick her up”, their alibi is as complete as it’s gonna get.

-They estimate that Storm is 9 years to Cloud’s 11, and she takes to being his cousin/sibling with a desperate sort of fervor. Cloud throws himself into being an older brother with equal devotion, even as he trains harder with his guns and survival skills and passes them on to Storm too.

-Cloud is 14 and maybe going a little stir crazy in his small town life (he’s grateful to be away from most of Shinra’s nonsense, but it does get REALLY BORING out here, especially with everyone his age leaving to go work for the Evil Empire In Disguise) when Storm tentatively asks what happened to her in the mansion. Cloud doesn’t know. But he’s got two pistols now and he’s not afraid of the local monsters, so he kisses her forehead and treks off to the mansion to find out.

-He fights his way into the mansion and finds all the creepy science papers and learns ... a lot.

-Apparently Evil Empire was playing god with things they knew little about, surprise surprise.

-Cloud tucks away Storm’s file (Felicia was her old name, interesting), and keeps digging. It takes a couple days of repeated visits (in between which he updates Storm and his increasingly alarmed mother of what he’s learned), but eventually he finds the files on Shinra’s golden boy Sephiroth and learns he’s had his DNA combined with a dead “ancient” (and if that’s really an ancient cetra and not some kind of horrible alien Prompto will eat his own shoes because there’s a picture of Jenova in the file and yeah, NOTHING HUMAN IS THAT SHADE OF BLUE kthanks). He digs even more through the mad ramblings, used to it after having to decipher ancient texts and Besithia’s mad rants with Ignis during the Long Night, and finds...

-Oh.

-That could be useful.

-Prompto treks down to the basement, then further down to a room filled with coffins. He wanders around until he finds the right one, flips it open, waits until the guy with Intense Vampire Vibes starts to wake up and ask who has disturbed his slumber, then interrupts with a cheerful, “I’m Cloud Strife. I’m going to steal everything in here I think is useful and then burn the rest to the ground. Do you wanna leave now or leave later when your cape is all crispy?”

-The man stares at him, “...What?”

-Cloud grins a little too wide and knows he looks very insane and ghoulish with the monster blood on his clothes, the dust and cobwebs in his hair, and the fire materia he’s juggling in his hands as he perches fearlessly on the edge of the coffin and simplifies, “Mansion go fwoof soon. You staying or leaving?”

-The man doesn’t seem to believe him, or even believe that he isn’t some kind of bad dream, so he just nudges Cloud off the coffin edge and shuts the top again. Cloud shrugs mentally, too frazzled and angry to care right now about Vampiric Drama Queens.

-He removes the relevant files that he’s found as well as any materia and weapons (and the diary of this one lady named Lucrecia who is apparently Sephiroth’s REAL mom and Mister Vampire’s former lover), then “borrows” a gas can from his mom’s shed and ensures that the dry, rotten floorboards of the mansion are thoroughly soaked in the stuff before wandering outside the back way, getting to a safe-ish distance and throwing a fireball through the broken window.

-The mansion does indeed make a loud and eager “fwoof” sound as it goes up in flames. Cloud watches the inferno with possibly too much maniacal laughter (hey he’s STRESSED okay? He’s getting the impression that HE’S the one the lifestream has decided to make it’s errand boy to save the world and he DOESN’T LIKE IT so just let him VENT), then laughs harder when a wall breaks open and out storms a slightly crispy and very unimpressed Vampire Drama Queen. Did Cloud maybe take too much glee in ensuring the gas had gotten into the basement too to make sure ALL  of the mansion went up? Probably. Did he regret it?

-No. Not in the slightest.

-One very unimpressed Vampire stare down that became genuine alarm when Cloud’s laughing fit turned into childish bawling later (stupid child stress hormones turning everything to tears when he least expected it, then again he’d always been a crybaby as Prompto in his own eyes) and Cloud leads Vampire Man home because he isn’t sure what else to do. He also makes Vampire Man (Vincent Valentine, the man sighs after the seventh time being called a Vampire) carry the diary and the most relevant papers down to his house. The other ones he hides in his cave for now, just in case.

-His mom breaks out the strong stuff halfway through Cloud’s story and shares sympathetic looks with Vincent over Cloud’s pyromania. Then he explains what he’s found and thinks about “Jenova” and while Vincent is skeptical, his mom has seen too much of Cloud’s weirdness not to believe him at this point. Cloud mentions that there are hints that at least some of the thing is up in the reactor. Storm cuddles up to her brother and solemnly asks if he’s going to go set the blue alien on fire too.

-Cloud says yes, Claudia sighs, and Vincent looks like he has a headache.

-Two weeks of preparations (and waiting out Shinra’s investigation of the fire, which they SOMEHOW deem an accident), a long hike, and some angry swearing from Claudia as she shorts out the security cameras (since when could his mom do that) later, and they have indeed found part of the blue alien woman. Their plan is interrupted when Vincent unexpectedly transforms into some kind of mini- dragon- monster- THING and aggressively fills the entire glass tank Jenova is in with blood red fire, but after THAT little episode is done, the Thing in Vincent’s skin eyes Cloud, starts laughing, calls him “the Chosen’s Little Argentum”, and cedes control back to one very dizzy Vincent.

-They all decide to call it a week after that.

...

Gonna wrap this up soon because ow my hands but some other thoughts on this is-

-Cloud and Storm start traveling to get answers and also to stay under Shinra’s radar, Vincent goes with because for some reason Chaos finds Cloud amusing and is willing to be quiet around the boy and also because this child CLEARLY needs a keeper and his pseudo-sister is his old partner’s DAUGHTER who was experimented on by Hojo and saved by Cloud so he can’t just leave now can he? Also the Lucrecia diary enlightens him to some things, like how Sephiroth is still alive and kicking (and currently sane!).

-Also Claudia comes with because she is a Good Mom and not about to let her 13 year old, her 11 year old, and a quasi-immortal Turk galavant around the countryside without adult supervision.

-Claudia and Vincent bicker like an old married couple and honestly Cloud is content to ship them so long as Vincent treats his mom right, and the ex-Turk would be amused by the Shovel Talk he gets early on if not for the sneaking suspicion (read: Chaos’s cackling) that this tiny blond menace guising as sunshine could actually pull it off, science immortality or no.

-Storm takes to swords like a duck to water and Cloud teaches her what he remembers, which is around the time Vincent asks about why Cloud Is The Way He Is and Claudia tells him that her son is a reincarnation. Honestly Cloud is just as flabbergasted as Vincent because since when did his mom know that?

-”Since you started talking in ancient forgotten languages during your hyper moments when you were four,” is the placid answer.

-They eventually wander into Midgar because What Is Self-Preservation and find Aerith. Aerith gloms onto Cloud and smiles a teary smile and calls him “Prompto” and that’s when he learns that Aerith is LUNA.

-They meet Zack outside of Midgar where Zack is playing Hunter rather than joining Soldier. Cloud and Zack stare at each other for like- twenty seconds before hugging for dear life and crying all over each other because it’s NOCTIS and THEY MISSED EACH OTHER SO MUCH.

-Zack still has armiger magic and gives it to everyone involved save Vincent, who looks like he might actually have an aneurysm if anymore Weirdness gets attached to his soul. He already has two (now three and one absentee sort of fourth) crazy children to look after, please keep the ancient magic away from his already battered soul.

-Not sure who/if Iggy and Gladio are reborn as, I’ll think about it.

-Fixit shenanigans ensue. The Turks get converted to the cause because 1. Veld’s old partner is back and 2. his supposedly dead daughter shyly turns up decidedly NOT dead and with proof that Hojo experimented on her (he nearly flips a table and the scars on her hand from Prompto’s field surgery hurt Veld’s SOUL).

-Claudia is Team Mom of the Turks now, she’s not sure how.

-Zack and Cloud put their heads together and decide the PERFECT way to infiltrate and ruin Shinra’s hold on Sephiroth is to-

-Have one of them become his secretary/assistant. Cloud loses the coin toss, so now Sephiroth has a personal ray of sunshine and good morals following him everywhere like a stray kitten. It’s working WAY more than it has any right to.

-Someone (read: the newly converted to the cause Turks and a gleeful Vincent) start slipping Reeve data on what the mako reactors are really doing to the planet. Also Hojo ends up dead. So does Rupert.

-Also also Claudia is Rupert’s sister, so Rufus gets an aunt figure to imprint proper morals into his skull through love, sarcasm, and good food.

-There I’m out of thoughts on this AU for now.

[zigtheeortega]

calm before the storm

✿ pairing: bryce x mc

✿ word count: 2.5k

✿ warnings: loss, death, funeral – angst.

✿ author’s note: i didn’t necessarily think that bryce was written ooc, but the whole post-funeral sequence was pretty weird to me. i’m someone who copes very similarly to bryce, so i could see myself reflected in him a lot. and i thought the s*x scene was very oddly placed so, here’s me warping canon again bc i’m dissatisfied! lmao hope u enjoy <3 also this fic is very close to me emotionally – i experienced two close deaths in april and june. 

•─────────✦✿✦────────•

Since the moment his hands trembled amidst one of the most important surgeries of his life, Bryce was holding on by a thread.

With each half-assed joke he cracked, each wavering smile, each time he tried convincing others – including himself – that he was coping, he fell apart more and more.

The first night he went home after Spencer was quarantined, he trudged through the halls of Edenbrook, like he was dragging his legs through wet concrete. He was nearly magnetized to her bedside, not wanting to leave, but he needed to rest – he’d been awake for nearly a day and a half by the time he clocked out.

He blinked and he was back home. Couldn't remember how he got there. He was on autopilot and didn’t have a clue until he’d already wasted so much time. When night came, he couldn’t recall what he’d done that day.

The days between the diagnostics team finding a cure were torturous, the mere thought of not knowing what the future held – for the first time in his life – shaking him to his core.

He found himself paying close attention to Keiki. Each sarcastic quip, rude comment, or joke at his expense, he listened, soaking it up, no thoughts about the problem back in Hawaii. He whole-heartedly enjoyed her. Through one of the hardest times in his life, he was rekindling a relationship that never should’ve fallen apart.

The night he spent with Spencer, cuddled up next to her in his starchy hazmat suit, was the most daunting of them all. He was smiling and flirting with her, a little bit of his normal self shining through, but the crushing weight of his reality was distracting him.

This could be the last time that you see her smile.

God, he knew he had a killer smile of his own, but hers put the whole damn sun to shame. Her grin lit up her whole body, like every atom in her body was in it. And despite her sunken in eyes, her pale, sickly appearance, she still emitted those same infectious rays that he was eager to soak up.

This could be the last time that you hold her.

He curled himself around her, spooning her like he’d done a handful of times before. What he wouldn’t give to have a faceful of her hair again, the tropical scent so familiar to him that he couldn’t help but associate the scent of coconut with her.

This could be the last time that you feel her.

He stroked her face with a gloved hand, wishing for nothing more than to feel her smooth skin beneath his fingertips again. He pressed into her, hoping she could feel his warmth through the thin layer of fabric.

When her eyelids finally fluttered shut, overcome with exhaustion, his mind wandered to the possibility of it all being over.

And he couldn’t cope with that.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to.

When the treatment worked, and both she and Rafael were cured, it was the first time in months he’d experienced genuine joy. He didn’t know what higher power out there was looking out for him, but he silently thanked the universe for looking out for her. And for putting her in his life, and decidedly keeping her there.

The funeral was too much for him.

Seeing the two caskets, sealed tight, the endless arrangements of flowers, the sea of black clothing… it was overwhelming. Foreign. Like he was intruding on something so intimate that wasn’t meant for him to see.

And the sounds. He’d never forget it. Choked sobs from every angle, constant sniffling, a sporadic wail. The atmosphere made him antsy. His suit was itchy, his shoes were uncomfortable, and he was surrounded by grief.

Both Danny and Bobby meant a lot to Edenbrook, but it was nothing compared to what Spencer meant to him.

He must’ve slipped into auto-pilot (again), because before he knew it, the funeral was over, and he was outside of her apartment.

Wordlessly, he wrapped her in his arms, burying his face in her shoulder, the smell of her shampoo enough to bring him to tears. He was so fucking close to losing that forever. His free will to kiss her, to touch her, to hold her.

She invited him in, and every step to her room felt like each string that held him together was snapping, his sutures buckling under the weight he carried.

He was digging deep, trying to pull any kind of genuine quip from within him, to maybe – just maybe – convince Spencer he was okay.

But did he want to keep her in the dark?

Opening up was so fucking hard for him. Either he was a burden or he was let down by the people he confided in.

Trustworthiness was hard to come by, and Bryce knew that. That’s why Spencer was the first to know about Keiki, about his parents, about him. Not entirely, since he wasn’t ready for that just yet, but he was getting there.

It was a slow process, and he revered Spencer’s patience. Not once did she get upset with him for not sharing every detail.

And he almost fucking lost that.

His torturous inner monologue that he worked so hard to bury showed up when Keiki did. Guilt ate him alive, anxiety gnawed his insides, and regret feasted on whatever was left.

His mind was a hurricane, angry waves crashing painfully against his subconscious, the storm surge from his repeated trauma more than he could handle alone.

The one person he should’ve let in was almost taken from him, ripped from him like a surfboard after a wipeout.

He was drowning, and he flicked away the only hand that was outstretched for him.

And he almost fucking lost her.

The moment Spencer’s brows furrowed at whatever unconvincing mask he had plastered on his features, he broke.

His throat ached and flexed as he tried to choke back the tears, but he just… couldn’t.

Fuck, you’re so weak. He cursed at himself as the tears started flowing, warm streaks trailing down his bronzed skin, vision blurred like his head was under water. This isn’t about you.

The one time deflection was warranted, he broke down into a blubbering heap at her feet.

Like the angel she was, Spencer coaxed his body towards the bed, settling him against the down comforter before his legs buckled beneath him.

She gathered him in her arms, holding him exactly like he needed (like he wanted, but he didn’t want to admit it out loud).

She held him like he held her – like it was the last time.

The revelation tore him up inside, knowing she’d never take a second of their time together for granted again.

He pulled back, running a shaky hand through his hair, loose strands clinging to his damp forehead.

“I normally can hold it together better.” “You don’t have to do that around me, Bryce. You know that,” she encouraged, eyes still red-rimmed from the funeral.

“You’re the one that almost died, and I’m sitting here crying letting you comfort me,” he laughed through a sob, bouncing his leg on the ground nervously.

“You watched me almost die,” she whispered, squeezing his hand. “You’re allowed to be upset.”

His chin wobbled, and he rolled his lips to mask it. He took a shuddering breath, squeezing his eyes shut. “Spencer, I – have you ever…” He trailed off. Why was this so fucking hard?

“Have I been through this before?”

“Yeah,” was all he could manage.

She nodded. “Have you?”

“No.”

She nodded again.

“It’s making me think about my life… and the people in it. And things I could’ve done differently… better.”

“What do you mean?”

“When I saw you in that room, after the gas started affecting you, and your face… it –” he bit his lip to hold back a soft sob. “It got me thinking about everything that we didn’t do.”

“Bryce…” she laced her fingers in his, rubbing her thumb methodically over his skin.

“We’ve barely seen each other this year, Spencer. I got caught up with Keiki, and trying to figure shit out, and –” he searched her eyes, tears welling up again. “When I saw you in that room, nothing else mattered.”

“More than one thing can be important to you –”

“You’re important to me, Spence. You deserve better than what I’ve given you this year,” he shook his head, tears spilling over. “I can’t lose you.”

“You aren’t losing me, Bryce. I’m right here,” she practically cooed, trying her best to soothe him.

“I shouldn’t be the one being comforted right now. Please,” he whispered.

She pulled back, scooting backward onto the bed to cross her legs, as he stood up, pacing.

“It’s like I’m fucking up left and right with the people who matter to me,” he fisted his pockets, avoiding her eyes as he strode across the room.

“You of all people should know that you can’t take the blame for things that are out of your control,” she murmured softly, tugging at a loose string at the hem of her dress.

“I know I can’t control it and that’s why it makes me want to tear my fucking hair out,” he said through gritted teeth, biting back tears. He didn’t want to cry anymore, but his body had other ideas.

“Bryce, you couldn’t have stopped a bursting gas canister. Nobody could’ve stopped it.”

“That’s not what I’m frustrated over. I’m… I don’t know how to say it without sounding like a dick and making this about me. There’s a lot going through my head right now,” he laughed humorlessly, stopping in the middle of the room directly across from the bed.

“Talk it out with me. I’ve got time,” she smiled encouragingly, folding her hands in her laps politely, like the angel she was.

God, sometimes he was thankful for his parent’s demonic behavior, because if not for the bad karma the Lahela’s accumulated, there’s no way in hell the universe would’ve balanced itself out by placing an angel like her in his path.

“On the one hand I’m angry at myself for not spending time with you like I should’ve,” he chewed his lip for a second, trying to gather his thoughts, before speaking again slowly. “I could’ve lost you and I was more worried about keeping secrets from everyone and dealing with shit on my own, you know? Which I never should’ve done.”

“But you didn’t and still don’t have to tell me anything. You’re allowed to have boundaries,” she interjected calmly.

“But maybe… maybe I don’t want that anymore,” he shrugged out of his tux jacket, draping it over the back of her desk chair as he spoke. “You still barely know Keiki. I barely know Keiki. And I holed myself up when you were waiting there with open arms. I don’t know. Maybe I just didn’t want to burden anybody? I don’t know.” He repeated, downplaying his own self–realization.

“And I’m frustrated because I don’t… know how to deal with this,” he gestured around the room, then to himself. “How to wrap my brain around all of it. This was the first time I lost anybody like this.”

“I wasn’t even super close to Danny and Bobby,” he continued, shoving his hands in his pockets to calm his shaking hands.

“Losing people is always hard. Doesn’t matter how close or distant you are to somebody,” she said, trying to hold his eyes, but he could barely look at her.

He’d never opened up like this before. He was so vulnerable… so exposed, and he was afraid. Afraid she’d run away. That she’d bolt the second he plopped his thick suitcases filled to the brim, nearly bursting with emotional baggage from the past two decades.

“I’m sad about losing them, definitely, and going to a funeral for the first time in my life really fucked with my head but… fuck, I’m gonna sound like such an asshole,” he willed himself to look up from his shoes, staring intently at her. “None of that even comes close to what I felt when I thought I’d lost you.”

“Kyra was hanging on by a thread while I thought you were –” he choked, pressing his lips in a firm line to stop his sobs, which escaped through his nose in short breaths instead.

“I’ve never felt pressure like that. And my life has been nothing but pressure.” The words were freely flowing from him, like a dam held together by a few twigs, snapping to release a flood that neither of them anticipated.

“You had to run towards your problems, not away from them,” she whispered, like she wasn’t sure if he’d agree. But the moment the words left her lips, it was like the puzzle pieces fell into place for him.

Maui should’ve been his safe haven, but from the moment his parents were exposed in every form of news throughout Hawaii, he was itching to leave. The island fever settled into his bones and never left. It was an ever present anxiety he struggled with despite finding a home in Boston, Edenbrook, and Spencer.

When shit went down back home, he ran. When people found out who he was states away from the fallout, he ran. It was predictable, methodical, like an appendectomy. The same muscle memory that sliced skin and fastened sutures with delicate precision pumped his legs until he was as far away from his problems as he could get.

“Everytime I lost somebody, it was because I chose to. This time it was like something was being ripped away from me, and I couldn’t handle it,” Bryce said, a profound statement that caused a pained whimper to escape his lips.

“Bry…” She breathed, scooting to the edge of the bed, gently tugging at his shirt sleeve to pull him down to sit on the comforter.

“You don’t have to have all the answers right now, alright? And you don’t have to carry all of this alone. I’m here. You’ve got all of us,” she said, motioning towards the walls of the apartment. “Sometimes just letting it out can take the weight off your shoulders. And you’ve got a heavy load, Bryce.”

She rubbed soothing circles on his back, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “I’m not leaving you.”

He held her eye, doe-eyed gaze piercing – Spencer could see right through him, and god did he love feeling seen.

There was nothing he could say to thank her properly for putting aside her feelings to listen to him for a few minutes. Those few minutes where he unleashed a small portion of the shit he’d been building up for years.

So instead he did what he’d been craving since the moment he saw her behind the glass.

He pulled her into a frenzied kiss, pouring every part of himself into the embrace, wrapping him in her arms like she belonged there, as if he was saying “I’m not leaving you, either. You’re safe now.”

––––

taglist: @pixeljazzy ; @raleiighcarrera ; @senatorraines ; @felix-hauville ; @violinet ; @empressazura ; @serafinedupont ; @messofakind ; @altairadtaz ; @hudush ; @solarbridge ; @adriansbiss ; @bellarxse ; @havennly ; @writinghereandthere ; @levineseth ; @lahellacute ; @michellesnguyen ; @kelseaaa ; @natesewels ; @lucas-koh ; @rainesenator ; @montjoy ; @bryceslahela ; @crestfallenpixie ; @dudebro-lahela ; @ezekielbhandarivalleros ; @lgbtiangley ; @part-of-the-circus ; @nazariolahela ; @hazel-nguyen ; @la-huerta ; @adamdusmortain ; @thepotatobleh ; @distinguishedsaladoperawinner ; @bobbymckenzie ; @catsomi ; @neptunesascendant ; @pixelsandkink

[if i missed you, i wasn’t able to tag your url! i tagged anybody who interacted w the post so if you want to be removed please let me know]

[catflowerqueen]

Hydreigon is an interesting character. I love him a lot, and how kind and genuine he is and how even he seems to undergo character growth in the short time you know him.

Like… I genuinely do not believe he thought everything through in regards to his plan to contact humans for help. And a big part of that is just because of his very nature as the Voice of Life (or at least one of them). We don’t know what form of sentience he had before assuming his current shape, I suppose, but it makes perfect sense that his first priority would be his own world—his own self, in essence, but I don’t think he was thinking about his own individual survival, either, simply because his nature would mean that he wasn’t really an “individual” per say? Not until later. But because of that, I doubt he was really thinking of long-term goals, or the deeper consequences of bringing a human in to help.

Focusing just on the effects to the actual Pokémon World for a moment… he might have known from the onset that the humans wouldn’t be able to stay after providing help… but I doubt he’d thought about the ramifications that come with the fact that they would still have to spend time in the world as they figured out what the problem was, and that it would mean they would be making connections—friends, allies, etc. We don’t know how much contact he actually had with the other humans before they fell for Munna’s trap, but he did seem to genuinely worry about them as people—at least as far as their general welfare went. Like… his being upset about their defeat seemed to go deeper than just “each one defeated is one more that can’t help me.” Which is nice. And then he did genuinely seem to grow fond of the player themselves, and were very happy and proud of how deep their relationship with the partner was.

And that’s part of why I think he was crying when he confessed that the player would have to leave. He’d grown fond of them, and he knew how much the others—especially the partner—cared (and could maybe even feel it in the world itself?) And he was genuinely, truly heartbroken at the fact that they had to leave, and that he would probably be the only one to remember them. Which is probably why he stayed with them for as long as they could while they journeyed out, agreed to take them to see Paradise one last time, and just felt so bad about not being able to do more. As well as why he tried so hard to get them back in the post-game.

As to other things he didn’t think through… mostly the ramifications it had on the human world that he was pulling so many people out of it. Yes, the population of humans is very large, and we don’t know exactly how many people he actually called out to (and for that many, how many accepted his call. Was he just pulling in anyone that could hear him? Because, like… he asked for help, but then didn’t really ask permission to take them, or get any formal agreement. At least not verbally—it’s possible there was something going on behind the scenes with souls or intent or whatever). But there was enough that people were taking notice of the strange lights in the sky—and considering how many the Pokémon of Post Town were seeing on the hill, how many more must have been in other places? After all, the humans can’t have all arrived in the same place, and the pokemon world itself is quite large. How long has this sort of thing been going on? We don’t know, but given the problem I would think Hydreigon would have tried to pull in as many people as possible, so that could be anywhere from… let’s say five (to account for the fact that the Post Town citizens saw multiple balls of light, in addition to the one the hero saw and the hero themselves), to something like a hundred. If not more.

And depending on where in the world he took them from, their ages, their jobs, what was going on in their own lives… this could have some pretty dire consequences, especially considering that the post-game makes it clear that time was passing at more or less the same rate in each world, in addition to the fact that it was a genuine worry of the partner’s that the hero’s friends and family would have noticed and been distressed by their disappearance. So even if it might not affect the human world on a large scale… Hydreigon definitely did not take into account how it would affect things on a smaller scale—namely, the lives the humans were leaving behind for the duration.

In addition to the trauma of having literally died/been so near death that it amounted to basically the same thing in order to actually return home… how many humans then returned to eviction notices, lost jobs, truancy alerts, etc.? How many missed once-in-a-lifetime opportunities, or deadlines? Was anyone on an organ donor list that was now once more at the back of the line because they weren’t there to receive the donation? Or had to reschedule other general surgeries/miss important appointments? Did anyone leave their own children behind, who then had no one to look out for them? Or was the only person in the office who had access to the important equipment/files meaning that now multiple people are out of work? Or was in the middle of doing something/maintaining something really important that crashed and burned in their absence and caused multiple other deaths or injuries?

The human world is complicated, and while it makes sense Hydreigon wouldn’t know about that or prioritize that—not that I blame him for it—it just… yeah, he didn’t think things through.

Which is why it is so genuinely heartwarming that the partner did. And, sure, maybe they didn’t understand the complexities of the situation either, but they at least could consider the ramifications for the hero’s immediate friends and family members if they never went home.

Honestly, it does bring up its own can of worms as far as how the hero will use their new abilities to travel between worlds—because, again, the complexities and bureaucracy of the human world don’t really lend themselves to someone being MIA for long stretches of time unless they’re independently wealthy/have someone willing to look after their stuff while they’re gone, so it might mean that the hero really will eventually have to pick a side, as it were, to stay full time and just the other one as a minor vacation spot (which… like, I hope Emolga was just joking when he said those lines to the hero in post-game about them having to work extra hard to make up for all the lost time while they were in the human world because… if that genuinely is his belief, then the hero isn’t going to be getting any chance to rest in between whatever jobs and things they have to maintain in the human world and their “job” in Paradise. Burnout is not pleasant).

But that’s probably getting too meta about things, anyways. It’s just that Gates is the only game in the series that actually brings those implications to the forefront, because, again, no amnesia for the hero, and the partner (and others) directly speculate about it a few times. Rescue Team was… well, the amnesia thing means that not even the hero knows what their life was like, so it is a… relatively simpler choice to make? In some ways? Yeah, maybe they are leaving some things behind in the human world… but they could just as equally have hated their life. They have no way of knowing, and just based on the new memories they created, they know that could have a good life in the Pokémon world. In Explorers, they didn’t really have a life to go back to afterwards either way. Again, there’s some ambiguity in us not knowing if they were actually from the paralyzed future, as opposed to just being taken their by someone else because of their abilities, but… either way, as far as they knew, they were going to disappear at the end and effectively be deceased. And then even after the fifth special episode, their options were still kind of limited to just the past/present from their perspective and living in the future. Which is fixed now, sure, but the only real connections they’d have to the place would be Grovyle and Celebi—who they only remember from their brief period travelling together over the course of the game. …And also Dusknoir and the Sableye, I suppose, but I feel like that would just be very complicated and awkward. And then I’ve already made myself abundantly clear as far as PSMD goes. Is the hero actually leaving a life behind? Who knows! Not them, thanks to the mind wiping, and even if they were, it isn’t like anyone bothered to give them options or think too deeply on the matter.

[katsidhe]

7.02 final thoughts? (Idk if this one has been requested yet)

7.02 Final Thoughts

*rubs hands* Ah, yes, the episode that got me into SPN. I could talk forever about season 7. 

Fun drinking game: take a shot every time someone makes a different colorful idiom about Sam being insane. Hint: you’ll die, because I counted 25.

(I WONDER WHY Sam didn’t want to tell Bobby or Dean about his active symptoms of psychosis. Truly, a mystery for the ages.)

Even setting Hallucifer aside, this episode highlights so many of the things I high-key LOVE about season 7: the erosion of Sam and Dean’s support network (as tenuous as that already was)—take away Bobby’s house, take away angelic healing, take away the Impala, make them vulnerable and alone and crumbling under the weight of the trauma they’ve accumulated. The broken leg, Sam’s head injury and seizure in the ambulance? Strapped down, badly injured, the fates of their friends uncertain, headed into the belly of the beast? ICONIC. Over the top. Amazing.

It’s a similar kinda thing to Jody’s predicament—sure, she’s capable enough ordinarily, but if you give her surgery and drug her and leave her alone in a hospital with a liver-eating monster on the prowl, the stakes look a lot different, don’t they? I’ve seen this episode approximately one gazillion times but every time I get tense for her.

Quick thoughts on the Leviathans, which have a reputation as an underwhelming SPN villain. Perhaps because of how unsubtle and half-baked they are as metaphor for corporate greed/capitalistic consumption, perhaps because of how their promise of truly terrifying Old Ones, Cthulu-esque devourers, never quite came true (except for a bit in 7.01 and 7.02, yikes!). But honestly I’ve always liked them—I like how their organization and assimilation of knowledge drives the Winchesters deeper underground than even the Apocalypse did; I like how they made the Winchesters’ entire world into something mundanely unsafe and miserable; I like how they showcase the horror of a enemy composed of lockstep drones, the way that Heaven (and Hell, sometimes) tries to be, but never truly manages; I like Dick Roman’s gleeful ravenousness; I like their spooky mouths; hell, I even like the Dick jokes. 

Bobby’s solicitousness towards Dean, and how awkwardly he talks to Sam a little later in the episode, is very emblematic of how bone-deep uncomfortable he is around an honest-to-God mental illness, and, well, around Sam’s issues in general. Which doesn’t make him a bad person, or unsupportive, necessarily. But it’s very evident that he’s got no clue what to say to Sam or how to handle him, that he’s leagues more comfortable dealing with Dean’s problems (as has often been the case regardless of Sam’s mental health).

A related, but separate point: the lengths the show goes to to emphasize “look, Dean’s not okay,” while Sam’s in the middle of a psychotic break… It baffles me a little every time I see this episode, when Bobby walks away from Sam all “yyyyeah I gotta go do some work” and then is immediately all “ok but Dean, how are YOU feeling?” It’d be one thing if Dean weren’t emotionally demonstrative, and if Sam were—if Sam, at this point in the episode, was so obviously struggling to such a painful degree that Bobby wants to make sure Dean’s not overlooking his own reactions. But that’s not really the case. Apart from some flinching, Sam’s been very matter-of-fact about the whole thing so far.

This is our first deep-dive into Sam post-Cage, a full season about he returned. And I love it to pieces, you guys. I love how these inescapable, soul-deep consequences are the inevitable answer to the moral of Sam’s story, where he interred himself with his worst nightmare, forever.

Dean after Hell is clawing for moral high ground. Dean focuses on this bleak kind of virtue, this idea of martyrdom and righteous struggle that eventually unspools and reveals itself to be fundamentally unmoored. He needs some kind of redemption for himself after what he was forced to do in Hell; he needs to own his destiny, and he needs that destiny to be meaningful and good, and he channels his violence outward in that cause.  

Sam does not take any kind of high ground. He hurts... himself. He gnaws inward. No illusions about how “messed up” he is—he sidelines himself before Dean or Bobby can say a single word; he figures he needs to be on top of it, needs to get out ahead of the danger he could represent and reassure his family that he knows he’s a hazard. Sam has learned to repress and downplay and hide his traumas and his freakishness both to avoid feeling stigmatized and to avoid being a burden on the people he loves, especially on his brother. So when Dean reacts with fear (understandable) and anger (less so), Sam takes it in stride.

Hallucifer is probably my favorite thing this show has ever done. I could probably write another thousand words on Hallucifer alone—on how Sam’s using this face for coping, for compartmentalizing; both to hurt himself and to keep himself company, to sort through his pain and arrive at a place where it’s at all tenable for him to exist. 

Sam’s skepticism about professional mental health treatment—his idea that this is a problem he can handle himself, that a doctor would "just stuff [him] full of pills”—is clearly one born of the family mold. This is his dismissive response to Hallucifer!Dean’s accusation that Sam won’t be able to cut it on his own. This denial, this idea that Sam knows he needs to get a handle on this, and therefore that he MUST do it himself, make a science of it, is fascinating. 

On the subject of denial: Hallucifer poses a simple question to Sam: are you sure you got out? And Sam’s NOT sure. Faith that he’s free is yet another maybe-lie that Sam must tell himself with maniacal intensity this season, for the sake of his own sanity, to avoid the voice in his head telling him to shoot himself. 

That Scene in the warehouse. Dean’s advice to Sam is to trust in Dean as the cornerstone of his reality. Asks him to build his whole world on his trust in Dean. What choice does Sam have? Who else can Sam rely on? What else can he do? There is no one else, nothing else. There’s only Dean, or Lucifer. It’s a dichotomy. It’s so CHILLING.

Especially in the context of what we know comes next—7.03, where Dean lies to Sam’s face, murders Amy, and uses Sam’s ~insanity~ to defuse Sam’s (justified) anger. And then, season 8, and 9, and 10, and, y’know what, the entire show. 

Sam drives his thumb into his bleeding hand, and it’s SPN in a nutshell—forever choosing the claustrophobia of the path of slightly less resistance, forever clinging to the misery of a life that’s only just this side of bearable, burying yourself in the toxic fallout because the alternative is unimaginably nightmarish—using the trappings of free will, of defiance, to choose to claw holes in yourself so that someone else won’t. There is no escape.

Dean’s threat of murder-suicide on the phone is so clearly meant to be sympathetic. And yes, on a certain level it absolutely is; and then on another level, it’s, y’know, MURDER-suicide, where Dean’s taking explicit responsibility for and ownership of Sam’s life, even though Sam’s pretty clearly lucid. Dean’s assuming as a matter of course his ability and right to make that decision for Sam. How Dean views and deals with Sam’s instability in season 7 lays major groundwork for Dean’s willingness to let in Gadreel in 9.01.

[056crowshit6556]

“Go. Just take him.” The cycle of Revenge in The Last of Us Part II

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE LAST OF US PART 2

Spoilers + screenshots under the readmore!

Some thoughts on The Last of Us Part II

The Last of Us Part II threw me for a loop in subtle, nuanced, deep, and impactful ways. It was a story of loss and hate, resentment and grief, and the major theme: The Cycle of Revenge.

These themes all come together in the last fight between Abby and Ellie– which, before I delve into some kind of analysis, made me cry. It was honest in its delivery, resonant in its pain. It seemed Ellie wasn’t just fighting Abby, but herself in a sense. And because we had played a big part of the game as Abby, I felt a hesitance to fight Abby to the death. It doesn’t feel victorious-- plainly put, it felt “bad” to fight Abby, and in another sense, it felt futile. 

I have a soft spot for storytelling, and there’s always been something about The Last of Us which touched me, probably because it focuses on the complicated nature of what’s morally right or wrong. At the game’s beginning, I wasn’t completely sold on Abby’s storyline. I could tell that Naughty Dog was trying to show a neutral grey area, that there’s no black and white, no true heroes and villains. I think alot of stories are going with this direction now, some poorly (i.e. a villain gets an underserved or forced redemption arc), but The Last of Us Part II treated its characters less like heroes and villains and more like human beings who are capable of good and evil, capable of bravery, selflessness, indoctrination, and antagonism.

The list could go on. The world of The Last of Us strives to mirror our own world to the best of its ability. It asks “what could go wrong in a post-apocalyptic world”, then in the same breath, “but what is beautiful and meaningful in such a world too?”

As the story progressed, I saw parallels between Ellie, Abby, and Joel. I saw the message as ‘destruction in revenge’; but also, by having two protagonists, one of which I should have been led to despise, I came to see each person as a “main character” of their own story, as we are main characters of our own lives, or stories, due to the limits of our perception. Abby’s world is different from Ellie’s, but there’s overlap, enough to see them as a reflection of each other. And as I’ll delve into, their story arcs follow similar paths, as they’ve both experienced loss which left them incapacitated, except... Abby’s story is about redemption, while Ellie’s is about hate and revenge.

This final fight, the scene near the end of the game, struck me for a number of reasons.

The location of the fight has significance, as the ocean represents our subconscious, and the fog represents disillusionment and confusion. Ellie had buried memories of Joel, both good and bad, into her subconscious. That was her way of dealing with the pain. She buried the pain “underwater” so to speak, into an underwater oceanic subconscious.

In that scene, she is surrounded by an “ocean of grief.”

It resurfaces to Ellie in dreams throughout the game. PTSD flashes of memory too. 

Ellie went after Abby a second time, and engaged in a fight with her. Abby, starving and weak, could hardly fight back. At the last moment with Abby’s head underwater, as she was drowning, Ellie sees an image of Joel– happy, safe, alive. 

And she falters, she releases Abby.

Ellie continued to seek vengeance, an outward action, rather than experience grief, which is an inward action. Revenge as the distraction. Grief as the unbelievably long, lonely process. Revenge may have been satisfying, but if Abby had been killed, what would happen next? Ellie would be sitting in the ocean, still wrought with grief, still unable to essentially face Joel’s memory (whether it’s the terrible memory of his death, or the good memories, or the memories where she pushed him away because of resentment).

When Ellie says to Abby, “Go. Just take him,” she’s talking about Abby taking Lev and making their getaway, but to me… it was the overarching summation, the metaphorical line that delved into the point of the entire story.

When Ellie says, “Go. Just take him”, she’s also talking about Joel.

The vast ocean in front of her represents the subconscious, the unknown, and death. Ellie is sitting in the water, facing the unknown, and inwardly, the grief she feels over losing Joel. When she releases Abby, she is releasing her desire for vengeance. It is a singular point in the story. Revenge is a goal, a mission– it’s what drove the story, especially from Ellie’s point of view. But… revenge is not really a process, it’s a cycle. Because as the story showed, one act of vengeance turns into another act, and then another. It is the serpent biting its own tail.

Abby’s cycle of revenge halted because of Lev.

Abby’s responsibility was altered by the presence of Lev. Lev tells Abby to stop just before Abby is about to kill Dina. 

The music at this part slows from an adrenaline-fueled heartbeat. The hate and the rage lessen. Quiet takes over. The presence of Lev is what stopped her. This new-found purpose halts the cycle of revenge on Abby’s part. She is done.

Abby found new purpose and direction in her life because of Lev. Abby’s relationship with Lev is very similar to Joel’s relationship with Ellie in the first game. Joel found new purpose and meaning in his life with the arrival of Ellie. They even look similar to Joel and Ellie, I believe, in how Abby is clearly Lev’s protector, as Joel was Ellie’s protector in the first game:

(Even the colors of their clothes resemble Ellie and Joel in the first game).

By the game’s end, Abby has found new purpose in her life just as Joel found new purpose in his through Ellie. As Joel said in the first game,

“I struggled for a long time with surviving. And you– No matter what, you keep finding something to fight for.”

Earlier, Abby and Owen are speaking outside the surgery room. Abby says that Yara and Lev are just kids, then she asks:

Abby found the light in Lev, a Seraphite, or “Scar”– she found the light in someone who would otherwise be her enemy.

Abby has a recurring dream, in which she’s walking down the hospital corridor towards the surgery room where her father was killed. It is her place of fear, her nightmare, and over and over it haunts her, replaying her pain and trauma.

After saving Yara and Lev, the dream changes. Her father is alive and smiling, almost as if this is his way of saying goodbye to her.

That is what’s crucial here– After Abby kills Joel and satiates her need for revenge, she still has the nightmare of her father’s death. Revenge did not reconcile her pain, it did not stop the nightmare– in fact, it only created guilt.

In the boat scene, Owen explains why he killed Danny. He describes how there was a Scar at a camp, and he was going to kill him. He describes how he hit the man on the head, hard, but he just laid there. He didn’t go for his weapon. He was an old man who was tired and ready.

And something about that weakness, that human vulnerability, breaks Owen, and he can’t kill this old man. The cycle of revenge exhausts itself.

This story directly parallels Joel’s– he was an old man who was tired and ready.

In this same scene, Owen shames Abby for going after Joel. Mel does the same in a later scene, telling Abby that she’s a bad person. Abby’s group struggled with the action they took on Joel. Abby does too. Her reaction to Owen and Mel shaming her shows she feels guilt over what she did.

That guilt is reconciled with the arrival of Yara and Lev; particularly Lev, who becomes Abby’s responsibility later in the story.

By the same token, Ellie had that option with Dina and the baby. She could have shifted her direction in life towards her new family, but she chose not to– instead, she went after Abby a second time. It could be because she was overwhelmed by grief, or because her trauma felt unbearable. Maybe she was obsessed with the idea that revenge would alleviate the pain. Or maybe, she felt responsible for Joel’s death.

Ellie continued to move her life in the direction of vengeance, when really she needed to confront her own grief of losing him. And that takes time. That takes confrontation. The stagnation of “doing nothing” is not in Ellie’s character (for instance, Dina loses Jesse because Abby killed Jesse, but she does not seek revenge. She refocuses her life on her baby). 

To contrast, Dina’s responsibility in life is to her child; Ellie’s responsibility in life is not necessarily to get revenge but to atone for her resentment towards Joel.

Ellie attempts to drown Abby as though it will bury the memories of Joel even more, but they surface regardless, one small droplet memory of Joel sitting on the porch with a guitar, and she can’t do it. She can’t continue the cycle of revenge.

After the final fight, Ellie looks out into the ocean, but there is no horizon. The fog covers it. There is no point, no “point on the horizon.” There is no point in continuing the cycle of revenge. As the poet John Ford wrote, “Revenge proves its own executioner.” Ellie was destroying herself as much as she was destroying her enemies.

I think... the reason Ellie had such difficulties dealing with her grief was because she felt responsible for Joel’s death in a roundabout way-- if she had died on the operating table, Joel would have never been a target, if she had never been immune, she would have turned when she was bitten-- and because she felt guilt, because she couldn’t accept their last conversation.

Which was so beautiful in its simplicity. Neither Ellie or Joel knew this would be their last conversation, and so there’s a sense of mundanity about it. It’s crucial but at the same time, not (because we as the players know this is their last conversation). 

Ellie says she will consider forgiving him. The animosity Ellie felt towards Joel was not entirely resolved. And besides that, she had been giving him the silent treatment for over a year before that. She lost time with him because she held a grudge; the grudge is another reason she feels guilty. (Not saying Ellie’s grudge isn’t warranted. That’s what makes the situation so complicated and nuanced. She had a right to be mad because she wanted the vaccine, she was willing to sacrifice her life for it. So we see the difficulty she has in accepting Joel’s decision). Which spurred her on in her quest for revenge, while pushing aside the grief she felt.

There is not point in continuing the cycle of revenge. Grief… it doesn’t necessarily have a “point” either, I don’t think. Like the ocean, it comes in waves. It soaks the body. It ebbs and flows, but it will lessen with time. As with Abby, who found a purpose in life by protecting Lev, Ellie has the option of finding a purpose in her life too– not the one she initially wanted, in which she sacrificed herself for a cure, but maybe one built with the same kind of love Joel felt for her.

But the process of grief means Ellie has to essentially, at one point, say to Death or the Unknown, Okay. You can take him. When she releases Joel, she is releasing so, so much more than what she would have gained from killing Abby.

At the game’s beginning, when Joel was dying, he looked at Ellie, and he smiled. There was something in his eyes that said he was glad, for everything, the pain, the struggle, the heartbreak, because in the end he’s looking at Ellie, and in the last crucial moment it’s as if he thinks, ‘It was worth it, for you’. 

He knew the consequences of his actions when he stopped the Fireflies, when he stopped the cure from ever being made, and when he took Ellie from that hospital. He knew there was a risk involved, but at the game’s ending, during the flashback scene, he says, “If somehow the Lord gave me a second chance at that moment… I would do it all over again.”

(*Brief note: Interestingly enough, Abby is not explicitly seeking revenge on Joel because he prevented the cure from being made... she’s seeking revenge because he killed her father. It shows that in the grand scheme of things, what matters is the close relationships we form with others... that if Ellie had been the cure she would have been remembered as an almost “deified” concept, but Joel would have returned to the hopelessness of his own life.  Abby didn’t enact revenge for humanity’s sake, she did it for her father. This ties in nicely with the ongoing war between the WLF and the Seraphites, and how each faction is a faceless mob until individuals like Yara and Lev meet Abby, or Owen has his emotional experience with the old man who was too tired to fight. Owen says he’s tired of fighting for land he doesn’t give a fuck about. It begs the question of what’s important in life... like the memories of Joel and Ellie exploring museums or Tommy and Ellie sharpshooting. It was the small, seemingly insignificant moments which mattered most, the moments Ellie remembered).

Joel died without regret. He died knowing that Ellie would be willing to forgive him. And even though their time of peace was brief, he died happy for the small moments they got to spend together, that for all the pain and suffering, in the end, it was worth it.

Ellie is angry at him because she believes her life would have mattered if she sacrificed herself for a vaccine. That there was a point to all the loss, for her best friend Riley’s death, for the numerous other deaths she witnessed in The Last of Us. When Joel took her from the hospital, it was selfish, but that’s because her life does matter, to him. Beyond being a cure, beyond being a martyr, Ellie as a human being matters to him. Yes, she would have been remembered as “the cure”, but only Joel would have remembered her as an actual human being: a person with habits, quirks, unique traits, vices and virtues.

He would do it again knowing how much she would resent him for it. I don’t know how else to describe that. I think it goes along the notion that, you don’t truly understand what it means to love someone more than anything, more than yourself, until you’ve had a child. With loss comes grief, then hope. Joel lost his daughter Sarah and suffered for years, but Ellie gave him hope. Abby lost her father, but found hope in Lev.

Ellie lost Joel, but what kind of hope returned to her at the story’s end?

When she returns to her home, Dina and the baby are gone. The house is empty, and all of Ellie’s belongings have been put into a single room. She goes there, and picks up the guitar Joel gave her.

Ellie lost two of her fingers, and now she’s unable to throughly play the guitar. The notes are disjointed, the melody is cracked. That is how Ellie is now. I’m not saying she’s a miserable broken wreck now– I’m saying she’s rough around the edges, she has a noticeable aura of fragmentation about her. Even if the grief lessens with time, she will be hardened by this pain. What she’s experienced has changed her and it’s a weight she’ll have to carry for the rest of her life. As the title suggest, she is the “last of us” regarding our journey throughout the game-- every emotion, every violent action, every loss and heartache-- Ellie is the bearer of it.

She places the guitar against the windowsill and leaves.

And you see that shot through the open window, Ellie leaving the house in the background, the guitar leaning against the windowsill in the foreground. I see that and I know, in one year the vines and weeds will start to take over the house like they do in all the abandoned houses. In two years the strings will rust and snap. In ten the guitar will become part of nature. Nature will come in through the window, and it will wrap itself around the guitar. The wood will crack and eventually it will disintegrate from the rain and wind.

The reason I think there’s an emblem of a moth on the guitar is because moths have very short lifespans (in their adult stage, they typically only live about one week). Because of the brevity of their life, and because they are night creatures, they are considered messengers of the unknown, or the “beyond.” Something not quite of this world, symbols of magic. But I think the more important part of the moth on the guitar is to show how brief Joel and Ellie’s time together was; how the lives of the characters in The Last of Us are often cut short, often without warning. In an even broader sense, life is brief, and time’s a thief, as the saying goes. The guitar in the last frame of the story was played for only a few years, and then, it has been left to the hands of time.

It’s here that we don’t really know what happens to Ellie: does she go in search of Dina? Does she go back to Jackson? Does she begin somewhere else, or will she live on her own for the rest of her days?

The uncertainty of her life from this point on leaves a bittersweet touch to the story. People move on, people leave. What is an old guitar weathered by the seasons, lost to time, was once a beautiful song shared between two people.

Joel, in saving her life, essentially gave her a chance at life. The rest is up to her.

[allthebooksandcrannies]

I know a lot of older people think it's a problem that so many young people don't want to have children, but I think it shows an increased understanding for how much of a responsibility parenting is and how much damage you can do to a child of you're not ready to raise someone.

I think that everyone is capable of being a good parent and I think that some people should never be parents. These may sound mutually exclusive but they aren't because there's a big if involved in the first half. That if, is that everyone is capable of being a good parent someday if they put in the work to take care of their own shit first.

When you become a parent or guardian, you are officially signing on to prioritize another person's physical and emotional needs before your own for the rest of their life. That means loving them no matter what they do or who they become. That means putting aside your own exhaustion and frustration at your day when they walk through the door so that you can be their champion and their confidant and their companion. That means teaching them how to process their emotions and think critically and empathetically and it means letting them find their own path, even if it's different than the one you wanted or imagined for them, but making it clear that if they need or want your comfort, your help, or just your ear that they will have it. You don't have to be perfect. No parent ever is, and it's important anyway for kids to learn in nontraumatic ways that adults make mistakes too and that's okay as long as you take responsibility for that and strive to learn and grow because of your mistakes. Kids learn by watching and listening to the adults around them and the things they conclude from those early years of observation will stick with them the rest of their lives.

I know that that sounds scary. It probably should because deciding to raise a child should be the biggest decision you can make, and if it's not, you may not be taking it seriously enough.

I also know that this is hard. And I have the greatest respect for people who truly understand this and decide to raise a tiny person anyway.

I'm also not trying to discourage you from becoming a parent. You may not be ready now, but that doesn't mean you can't be later. I personally would love to be a mom some day not I know that I have a lot of personal growth and healing I need to take care of first, to say nothing of the stabilization of my financial and career status.

The real question is what can you do to be a better parent, guardian, or even trusted adult to someone else's child (a really important and valid role and choice in itself!) later?

First off, you need to do some hard core introspection to figure out what traits and behaviors you have that might exhibit that would interfere in your ability to be a good parent. Maybe you're still emotionally immature. Maybe you're struggling with uncontrolled mental illness, chronic illness, or addiction. Maybe you've internalized some toxic ideas. Maybe you're still recovering from trauma or just now realizing that what you have even is trauma. None of these things makes you a bad person and none of them stops you from being capable to becoming a good parent. But, all of them can interfere with your ability to model healthy behaviors and coping skills to your child. Children learn through observation and, because their brains need the world to make sense and be predictable, they're going to interpret everytime you seem upset or lose your cool as being their fault. Young children aren't capable of going "mom is upset and snapped over something relatively trivial, she must be having a bad day/be tired/etc" because that's an interpretation of the world that is outside their control. Instead, they're going to go "I did x and mom got mad at me, it's my fault so I better not do x again" and that's a really harmful mindset that can contribute to self-worth issues and other mental illnesses like anxiety, especially if this happens long-term (for the record, you're going to make mistakes and you're going to snap over stupid things because being a grown-up is hard, so when you inevitably make this mistake it's important to be honest and upfront with your child about what happened, why, how it's not their fault, and you have to genuinely apologize for it, turning your mistake into a chance to model good adult behavior).

It's important to take care of yourself and let yourself grow and heal before bringing a kid into the mix because 1. you'll be a better parent if you start out in a better place emotionally and mentally, and 2. because you deserve the chance to be healthy and happy and it's much harder to address the things that are interfering with that when your also trying to juggle the additional emotional/mental demands of raising a child.

Additionally, I definitely recommend making sure you and anyone else taking a primary caretaker role in your child's life is in a stable financial and that the relationship between you and any other caretakers is stable and amicable regardless of what kind of relationship it is. The financial aspect is important because kids are expensive as hell (both the having/acquiring and the raising) and you want to be able to provide then with the best possible shot at life.

This isn't about me but I feel like the example will be helpful. We weren't poverty level growing up, but even as a child it was clear to me that we could be. My parents were 20 year old newlyweds when they got pregnant. My dad had been set up to inherit a position in his father and grandfather's construction company and did not go to college because they thought he was guaranteed a steady job. My mom was paying for a college education she couldn't afford because no one had ever explained how to get financial aid and scholarships to her and her parents were too caught up in their own shit to be anything but relieved about getting to make her future my dad's problem. Then they got pregnant. They started building a house that took much longer to build then expected because that construction business dad was expecting to inherit went out of business because it turned out that a cousin had been embezzling and my great-grandmother wouldn't let them sue or press charges against family. Mom had to drop out of college to raise me because daycare costs as much as she makes at work and she no longer has the time or funds. They had a baby they weren't prepared to raise and my dad's new job had him working in the Texas heat all day before going and working on our house at night so that we could move out of my maternal grandfather's house now that he was getting divorced and couldn't afford it. My parents society never saw each other and they were constantly worried about money. Less than two years after I was born they accidentally got pregnant with my brother. He ended up with failure to thrive and (although he did eventually recover) it raked up a serious amount of debt in addition to my mom's student loans and the mortgage. Flash forward four more years and my dad falls through a roof at a construction site and permanently cripples his ankle. Cue a year of the only breadwinner in the household being unable to work, several surgeries and massive medical bills we can't pay. A year after that my mom has to have a historectomy because her fibroids are causing immense pain and then they find pre-cancerous cells. Another year after that she starts having unexplained siezures and signs of organ failure that will take years to diagnose as a rare autoimmune disorder that will leave her disabled and, again, rake up serious medical debt. I found out in college that it came to the point that we almost lost the house but as a kid I still always knew we were struggling. And that fucks with a kid's head. There were reasons I didn't tell my parents that something was wrong for a week after I sprained my wrist when I was 10 and it wasn't just because I didn't want to sound like I was asking for attention (a phobia that also comes from having emotionally immature parents). I pushed myself ridiculously hard in school because I knew I couldn't expect any help paying for college from my parents. I still feel incredibly guilty anytime I spend more than 20 dollars even though it's my money and I need groceries or textbooks or gas or whatever. A lot of these issues would have been financially difficult and unpredictable, but had my parents been in a more stable position when they got married and started having kids, it would have been much easier to weather the storms.

Additionally, money is the main thing couples fight about, so if you can take that off the table as a significant concern before bringing kids into the mix, please do. Maslow's hierarchy of needs states that you can't address higher order concerns like personal growth of your worried about where your next meal is coming from and that goes for your children as well.

Again, I'm not trying to shame people for their financial difficulties. Most of us are playing at a game we were never intended to win and I get that not all children are planned. But, your good intentions unfortunately will not put food on the table or pay the rent and your children will have a lot less stress in their lives if you are able to make sure that things are as stable as possible before you bring them into it.

The same goes for your relationship with fellow caretakers. Don't try to have kids to save your relationship. Don't ever make your children feel like your relationship is in anyway their responsibility. Again, they need their world to make sense and if you're fighting they're probably going to assume it's somehow their fault. Don't do that to them.

Anyway, this rant turned out a lot longer than I intended but I think I needed to say it. In summary, raising children is not about you but your going to make it about you unless you take care of your own shit first. Children don't ask to be born. If you're not ready for that responsibility, either don't have kids or put in the work so that you will be. If you already have kids, and don't have your shit together, there's still time but it's going to be harder and you might have to do some damage control from any traumas you may have already inflicted on your child, regardless of your intentions. If that's the case, you have a responsibility to get your kid the help they need and do everything in your power to avoid further harm. You're the adult in this situation, and if you're going to be a parent, you need to act like it.