#remember kids: always practice safety

[mountain-lion-gremlin]

a good reason to leave for me:

i honestly think it would be safer for me and therians to not be in the same space sometimes haha. P-shifting isn't safe for many and it can really hurt others.

Although I would love to stay, I know that it's probably safer for everyone to no longer teach it and keep to myself about things that involve how to shift and such.

P-shifting isn't a joke and can harm people who suffer from mental issues and other things of that sort. Its just not safe to teach in a large public space. It's something only some can stomach and be safe while doing. Plus some communities that are too unregulated exist and may mess with people's reality and how they perceive it. Some are too open to allow people to start p-shifting right off the bat and it's just too dangerous that way. (including those that say "oh just wait you will shift eventually but you cant control it at all" those are even worse.)

Theres a very good reason why newer communities are very apprehensive about teaching, or telling, or allowing new people who know nothing about it just hop in and start shifting. Usually if you are coming to the "learning" community (as in, you are following steps laid out by others to understand your identity) there is guidelines, there are warnings, etc. It's just too risky to not follow these guidelines and not listen to the warnings.

Dont start p-shifting right when you find out. Take the time to start a journal. Understand that what you are getting into isn't something that will make you cool or quirky. You risk your mental health if you are not careful. You have to be born to be a p-shifter. You must first mental shift before you can even think about p-shifting. P-shifting is not easy and will take years to even get to a point where you start getting somewhere physically.

The list goes on. When someone who is teaching shifting slacks in saying these things, you can harm someone. It takes a very long time to even get to the point where you may be ready to p-shift. Some never will p-shift. You have to accept these realities too. Not to mention how some older guides, although effective, can be so incredibly risky. (Such as completely shutting out the world and being an animal 24/7. Some people just take it too far and do it too early and ruin themselves.) Its just not worth it sometimes.

Thats why I'm leaving Tumblr. Too open, not safe for neither me nor others looking in. I know I usually don't have these sorts of posts, but I just saw someone in an anon saying how unstable their reality and they were after lurking in the community and it just.... its just so hard to see. Nobody deserves that sort of mental torture. Sometimes I forget that p-shifting actually can be dangerous to some if nobody teaches how important it is to regulate yourself, check in on yourself, and remember that p-shifting isn't for the faint of heart.

It's only for those who have spent so much time over years of their journey, exploring themselves, askong questions, taking breaks, questioning themselves so many times, and checking in, to finally be able to claim that they are able to p-shift. (There is so much more to it than that obviously.) My fourth year of shifting is coming up, and after so long I might be ready to leave the online community permanently and start my journey. (of physically shifting i mean. I spend more time teaching others rather than doing the practice itself right now lol. When i say p-shifting im trying to refer to the whole process, but really talking about the mental shifting and phantom shifting etc. Sorry if its been unclear, many know the whole community as "p-shifters" when in reality "p-shifters" are only those who havw actually preformed a p-shift. I havent yet in my conscious memory so i just call myself a shifter or nonhuman.)

Please be safe. Please, if you are curious about the p-shifting community, remember that it is a mixed bag and not for everyone. As always any community can be a mixed bag, but p-shifting "learning" communities can spiral and be too lax on the warnings and importance of these warnings.

Thats all. (make sure to read all tags fully too.)

[thesmollestsnek]

Behold! A fun lil Hanukkah decoration I made for my place of work :3c

[icarusredwings]

Be warned. I wrote this at midnight. I have no clue what im talking about. Do you get it?

"Why doesn't this wolverine teach history? Other wolverine did"

Well, because THAT Wolverine had a Charles. Let me remind you just how fragile Logan's mental state is and just how quickly his brain can throw him into a temporary amnesia due to shock and / or panic that is triggered by his CPTSD.

The thing is, this Wolverine has a Wade. Not a Charles. Sure, Jean could probably do something to him if things got too crazy but you know just how dangerous of territory that would be. Yes, Charles doesn't have a healing factor but it was his confidence and perfect reassuring words that helped him, plus If something did happen Im pretty sure he wouldn't blame him much anyway. He knows what hes dealing with. This isnt to say that jean doesn't but I can see her panicking too much and Logan would feed off of that fear and panic and become worse.

Wade, on the other hand, is neither calm nor says the right things, BUT he can't die :D Which is a massive YES when it comes to dealing with a panicking 3+ time war veteran with knife hands. And is known to attack first ask later.

Trying to teach the kids about 'Nam, a thing sets him off. He stares off into space for a bit, Backs up and his breath gets heavy. The hairs on his arms are raised up and his pupils dilate, they widden and its as if he doesn't even remember he's a teacher.

When he starts the whole "Who are you? Where am I!?" Thing, a student (probably the oldest or one that's been dubbed most responsible) slowly just gets up and leaves to tell a trusted adult.

"Mrs. Munroe?"

"Yes?"

"Mr. Howlett is acting funny again."

"Okay darling. Go fetch Mr. Wilson for me? There's a dear."

She, calm as ever walks into the class room, standing away from the door so not to make him feel trapped, and very clearly shows her hands as she gestures the kids to leave.

Backing himself into a corner, he watches them one by one leave, Gripping at the chalk boards ledge and the windowsil, trying to balance and ground himself.

"Come now children. Quietly and slowly please. Good job. Go next door to Mrs. Summers please." Sending them to the next class room so to leave this one empty.

She stands off to the side of the room. Hands in front of her, smiling softly. "Hello Logan."

"What? Who are you?" He almost hisses but can't help but to feel not so threatened. He always did have a sweet spot for women. Maybe its their scent difference, but like most reactive animals, he's a little calmer for women. A little more trusting.

"Im a dear friend of yours. My name is Ororo. You are in no danger here." She states this practiced sentence with the same whisper of a voice.

"Where the fuck am I. How did I get here!? Did you bring me here!?" At this point he's growling.

"Logan, I assure you that no one forced you here. This is a school. You're a teacher."

"A teacher..?" Just a tad he softens, as if you had just told someone who wanted to be a vet when they grew up that they actually would become a very good vet, except the look in his eyes was as if questioning why they would ever him do that. Be a teacher I mean.

"Yes. If you would like to leave that is okay." She slowly sits in a spare chair, her leg crossing, not knowing how long she will need to play baby sitter but she hoped someone soon would alert the other staff of this. It IS a safety risk after all and Ororo knew that if he hurt anyone at all he'd immediately regret it terribly so when he woke.

"You.. you told her to go get someone. Why? Who are you getting? For what!?" Another snap, as if he thought she was trying to trick him into letting his gaurd down.

She smiles. "Your husband."

"What the fuck do you mean my 'husband'!? What are you sayin' lady!?" The venom in the way he says this makes her giggle a bit. Oh, goodness. He really did lose all of his memories, didn't he? How was the same man who once was so dastardly in love with scott to the point of shredding his heart into a gazillion pieces and is married to the silliest man alive, so internally homophobic? The irony of the thought made her laugh.

"And that kids is how you slice someone into sushi. Rice not included-" His weapons tatics and saftey class is interrupted.

"Mr. Wilson?"

"Oh hey, squirt! You wanna learn how to disconnect someone's joints without even leaving a puncture wound?"

"Maybe later.. uhm...Mr. Howlett's scared again..."

You just see Wade running out on these kids like "I'M COMING WOLVIE!"

"What, you think it's funny!? I ain't got a husband lady! Now, Im leaving! And there's nothing you can do to stop me!" He goes to walk out the door only to run into said husband, who immediately hugs him.

"Babe!! Hi! They told me- OUCH- okay yeah I deserved that- no tocuhy I forgot."

And is stabbed.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!? Get off me! Freak!"

"D'aawww!! Did you see that? He called me a freak! I hate to tell ya cupcake, but you're married to this freak. Now, what's wrOOW- Mad kitty are we? Woah there tiger! Easy boy!"

Logan looks at him, confused, stabs him again, and is trying to figure out why Wade's not dying. He goes to slash him in the head and wades like "WAITWAITWAIT NOT INFRONT OF THE KIDS-"

Mrs. Munroe, by now, has gotten up and left, closing the door and letting out a big sigh, wondering what shade of red they were going to paint the room this time.

She does a little clicky on her walkie and infroms all the staff about the situation and so for the next half hour or so, Logan's kids get to skip class and said classroom now needs a deep scrub.

And this ladies and gentlemen is why this Logan doesn't teach history anymore.

P.E. is SOOOO much easier on his mental status, and sometimes Wade joins, and he puts the whole class against him to make them work on their team building skills. Plus- it's funny to watch your husband get slapped in the head with 20 dodgeballs.

[jellyfishsthings]

Hold Your Breath My Darling

WARNINGS: angst, like super angst, lovesick and whipped Spencer, earlier seasons Spencer, Hotch trained reader, Ex spy, fem reader, dying (or coming close to it), panic attacks, HOTCHNISS IS A THING bcuz i said so, typical criminal minds violence... there will be a part two soon, please let my know if I am missing anything else

requests are open

The ending was based on this fic by @nereidprinc3ss

part 1

It had been one month since the Incident—a term that spoke volumes without revealing too much. The Incident was the moment everything changed, the day the world they've fought to protect threatened to swallow them whole. One harrowing act of violence had almost stolen her from the living, leaving scars deeper than flesh, echoing through the halls of the BAU and private lives of those who cared.

For Aaron Hotchner, the air was thick with the weight of his own guilt. He wandered through days shrouded in shadows, each movement a reminder of his instinct to protect, to lead, to ensure the safety of his team. And how had he failed? He coped with drowning himself in whiskey after a long day's work—a futile attempt to numb the regret clawing at his insides. In the back of his mind, the echoes of her screams lingered. They came back to him every time he closed his eyes.

His office was dimly lit, the curtains drawn tight against the afternoon sun. He stared at a framed picture of the team at some holiday gathering, her flashing one of her radiant smiles, arms flung around Morgan and Reid. It should have been the happiest memory, but now it felt like a ghost lurking in the corner, reminding him of what could have been lost forever. Where there should have been laughter, the room was filled with an uneasy silence, punctuated only by the sound of ice rattling in his glass.

Then there was Emily, who wore her pain like a second skin. Each night, she gave in to silent tears that left her breathless. Hotch held her, wrapped her in his arms, wanting to lend strength but unsure of how to piece together the fragments of their shattering experience. It was during these quiet moments, swaddled in darkness, that they both recognized the fragility of their connection. What they had once built was now tempered by guilt and fear—fear of losing a woman, a kid practically, they had helped qrow and turn into the amazingAgent she was.

Meanwhile, in a sterile white room, Spencer Reid kept vigil at her bedside. He had transformed into a specter of the man he had always been. Days blended into nights, and he often felt unmoored. The memory of her laughter used to be a melody he longed to hear; now it haunted him. In the clinical light of the hospital room, he counted the rhythmic beeping of the machines, which stood stark contrast to the chaos within him. Every time he heard her heart, steady and strong, he found a flicker of hope. But hope was an elusive thing, dampened by the anxiety that had seeped into his bones.

Reid often found himself lost in thought, reflecting on the moments that brought them all together, the little things that made them a unit—a family of sorts. He remembered their case that had turned deadly, the precision of her instincts leading them into a dangerous trap. But he also remembered the resolve in her eyes as they fought, a fierce determination that now seemed barely a whisper in the sanctuary of her hospital room.

For a while, recovery felt like an unattainable vision—like a mirage shimmering just beyond their reach. It was a miracle she was still alive even in a sedated state. When she was admitted in the hospital the doctors wore horrified looks as they finally located her file, asking for goverment permission to unseal it and rightfully so. When Spencer himself read it he felt nauseous to his core and ready to lose his hold on reality.

Bones broken more than one time.

Broken back that function only with a chip insisted in the spine.

Various signs of abuse, which could be traced back to her childhood at eight years old.

Signs of sexual assault and rape to a terrifying degree.

She was covered in old scars.

Yet he knew that the worst damage must live inside her head. What a scary life she had lived. And she was only a few months younger than him. The memories that must haunt her ... he only felt sick at the thought, he could imagine how it would be like to live with them.

Still it made sense. How good she was at fighting, that she was an excellent shot, how quickly she adapted into this new lifestyle. He was filled with questions, how, why, are you well, I still love you you do not have to hide I promise. But he didn't have a choice and so he waited for what seemed an eternity.

Days passed, and with them came the wait. But her eyes still remained closed, and so did the door to their shared perception of certainty. A week turned into a month, and the seasons shifted outside like a clock wound down to a dim hum.

Then, one evening, under the flickering fluorescent lights of the hospital, a breakthrough came. Her eyelids fluttered, her breathing quickened, and suddenly—her eyes opened, revealing the storm brewing inside them. Spencer was at her side, gripping her hand gently, his heart hammering in his chest. Ready to fall down on his knees and thank every diety for bringing her back.

“Snoopy?,” he breathed out, the air catching in his throat. Using after what seemed the longest time the nickname he had for her, the one he only used because he was the only one who knew her crazy obsession with the cartoon.

Her gaze was unfocused at first, wandering into the corners of the room as if piecing together where she was. But recognition slowly dawned on her, and the corners of her lips managed a faint curve.

“Reid?” she croaked, her voice raspy yet threaded with life.

Spencer felt a swell of emotions. Relief surged through him, casting away the shadows that had clung tightly for weeks. “You’re back. You’re really back.”

She blinked, and as realization dawned fully, the weight of her condition pressed down on her. “What happened?”

The moment reverberated with unspoken understanding; the memories were shrouded yet defined by the pain they collectively held. But what mattered now was her presence, the warmth of her being returning to where it belonged.

Yet nothing would ever be the same again.

Her transition to get back to work was tedious and long, but she faced with extreme determination and stubbornness. But one bright Monday morning at the Behavioral Analysis Unit (BAU), and the scent of hope lingered in the air like freshly brewed coffee. The team was abuzz with excitement—she was finally back after her traumatic injury. The office was a cacophony of cheers, “Welcome back!” and “It’s about time!” amid the clatter of keyboards and the rustle of paperwork.

She smiled brightly, radiating enthusiasm as she exchanged warm hugs and playful jabs. Despite feeling a little stiff, she was ready to jump back into the chaos that was the BAU. Her final physical test had gone splendidly, and she had passed with flying colors, much to the delight of her colleagues.

“Just don't overdo it, shortcake,” Derek Morgan chuckled, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. “You wouldn’t want to break a sweat before lunch.”

“I think my stitches would disagree with you,” she replied, tossing her hair back and puffing out her chest, “but who needs stitches when you have determination?”

She winked, but even she could feel the tight twinge near her abdomen as she waved dismissively.

A few hours later, as the excitement faded into the hum of agents at work, she started to feel a slight tugging pain. Her physical test had been strenuous, and perhaps she had overexerted herself a tad too much. Dismissing it as minor, she continued her duties until, unceremoniously, during a particularly animated discussion with Spencer Reid, she felt something give way. Looking down in horror, she saw her bandage had opened—one stitch had given it all up.

“Oh, come on,” she muttered under her breath. “Not now.”

The bathroom was not far, but the urgency and pain propelled her into a sprint that was definitely not recommended for someone still healing. She burst through the bathroom door, clutching her midriff, and locked the door behind her.

Meanwhile, after Snoopy had vanished for a suspiciously long time, Spencer felt a tickle of worry. She had burst into action rather enthusiastically, but it had turned into hours of radio silence. Ever the nerdy detective, his mind began churning. What if she had passed out? What if the bathroom monster had gotten her?

Spencer stood up, adjusted his glasses, and awkwardly edged toward the restrooms, bursting into the first one. Empty. Next, he slammed the door of the supply closet, scanned the room, found it empty, and moved on. He was a bull in a china shop—he knocked on a few more doors before finally giving in and charging towards the ladies’ restroom.

“Snoopy?” he called out hesitantly. “Are you in here? Did you win a new Olympic event—like bathroom hiding?”

Inside, she was struggling for a fresh bandage, maneuvering between the threading of her clothes, still trying to maintain a semblance of dignity despite her predicament. “I’m fine!” she half-shouted. “Just dealing with some wardrobe malfunctions. You know how it is!”

“Are you sure? You sound a little… flustered.” Spencer pushed through the door—pride was overrated, and so was personal space when it came to friends in need.

There she stood, half-naked, staring wide-eyed at Spencer. She was trying to maneuver a roll of bandages across her back, struggling with the awkward angles as she attempted to wrap around her injuries. The moment was a whirlwind of awkwardness and genuine surprise that left Spencer rooted to the floor.

“Oh, uh…!” Spencer stammered, his eyes widening. “I—Sorry! I didn’t mean to—!”

She blushed, realizing the comedic irony of a boy who often got caught in his brain's overdrive now turning into a flustered mess. “Spencer, a little warning next time? I’m just trying to change my bandages!”

“Oh! Right! Of course! Bandages!” He shuffled awkwardly, racking his brain for something—anything—that resembled confidence. “Do you need help?”

“Help?” she echoed, raising an eyebrow. “With what? Watching me struggle or ensuring a full-fledged theatrical performance?”

Reid swallowed hard and stepped forward, grabbing the roll of bandages. “I have a PhD in cognitive neuroscience, but bandaging wounds shouldn't be too complicated, right?”

She laughed, a melodic sound that diffused the tension as he gingerly held the fabric ready to assist her. “You say that, but let’s just put your academic prowess to the test.”

As he meticulously began to wrap her wounds, their banter threw open a door to easy flirting. “You know, if you hadn’t decided to writhe around like a fish out of water, I wouldn’t have had to barge in here like a raging bull,” he teased, focusing on the bandages but stealing glances at her.

She snorted softly. “And if you hadn’t decided to play the role of ‘Spencer the Bull’ and barged in like that, I might have had a more dignified experience here.”

“Next time, I’ll knock,” he agreed. “But first, if I let you get hurt again, I’ll have to rat you out to HR.”

She feigned shock. “Spencer Reid! How could you? Aren’t we a team?”

He didn’t dare reply immediately, wrapping the bandages with precision while his own cheeks flushed. “They also say you can’t handle a little risk in the name of love—because that’s totally what HR deals with.”

She grinned. “Oh please, they’d love the gossip. ‘Reid and Snoopy engage in dangerous bandaging maneuvers!’”

“Right?” He chuckled. “They’d probably get the wrong idea, and we’d spend our afternoons dodging accusations.”

“Accusations? Of what? Excessive flirting under the guise of medical assistance?”

Their eyes met, and the emphasis was palpable—a line they’d somehow danced across during the cheerful mockery. As the gentle laughter enveloped them, both realizing they had easily slipped into a territory where playful banter morphed into flirty undertones, Spencer’s heart thumped against his chest as he finished the bandage and fought the impulse to lean in a little closer.

“So,” she started, cutting through the air of comfort, “do we have a pact then? No more HR rumbles if you keep barging in on me uninvited?”

“I think that sounds reasonable,” Spencer replied, a charming smile emerging on his lips.

As they shared another laugh, an understanding settled between them—one wrapped in bandages, hints of crushes, and adventure, leaving behind awkwardness and opening the door to a world wrapped in flirtation and camaraderie, all set against the delightful backdrop of the BAU.

Tags: @sturnioloenthousiast

[jadeleechwife]

Hii!

Could I request platonic Boothill, Gallagher, Sunday and Blade with a teen reader that kind of just stuck to them because they have no parents?

(idk if I can request platonic hcs, pls lmk if not <33)

hello!! thanks for your request, I hope you like it!! <33 and it's fine really, I also enjoy platonic hcs. sorry for the bad grammar

Boothill

- When Boothill found you, you were heavily injured, bleeding. Alongside you, there were two adult figures, both lifeless.

- Boothill was in the middle of a mission that just happens to be in a place that was recently attacked by Anti-matter Legion. He couldn't help but notice your figure, somehow still alive.

- He took you with him to treat your injuries. When you woke up, you were scared, noticing to be in a place that isn't your home, your parents missing and with a cowboy cyborg man watching you.

- You asked where your parents were, but Boothill just sighed, admitting that they won't be with you so soon.

- You got the message and immediately started crying in pure despair, you were alone. Alone in this world with nobody to lend you a hand.

- Boothill could only remember his time when he lost everything, when he lost his kid and family. He felt the closest feeling to what should be an ache to his chest, and suggested that if you wanted to, you could stay with him. He knew he was being impulsive, as a teen living with him could only mean putting them in danger, but he could never let someone who desperately needs help like you to be left behind.

- You were wary about his request at first, but you didn't see any options beside accepting it, as you had nowhere to go.

- And so Boothill became your reference.

- To ensure your safety, he taught you how to handle guns, how to aim in the right spots to take your enemy down, and practiced your reflexes so you wouldn't be easily hit.

- His trainings were all strict, but it was all to keep you safe. He always tried to cheer you up with jokes and reassured you when you weren't doing well in your practices.

- Even after so many training, he still would be really protective of you, being able to beat his targets while also looking after your safety

- "Don'tcha worry kid, while you're with me, no one's gonna hurt ya." - He winked while you both were preparing yourselves to another mission.

Bonus: On your birthday, Boothill would gift you a similar hat that he is using to you, after all you were teammates now, right?

Gallagher

- Gallagher found you by pure chance while strolling the streets.

- He saw a teenager sneaking through a store and and carefully putting something in their pocket while leaving.

- He follows you and eventually corners you to ask you questions.

- You explained that you are only doing that for survival. Your parents sacrificed themselves to keep you safe from an unknown attack, making you completely alone.

- Gallagher listened carefully and couldn't help but also somehow identify himself with you in his darker times, completely lost, without a place to go.

- He told you to bare with him a bit and follow, while he has an idea.

- After a long discussion with the Bloodhound Family, they allowed Gallagher to watch over you with the condition that you don't interfere in any of their duties.

- You were truly surprised at first, as Gallagher didn't miss a beat to somehow take care of you. As much you were suspicious about second intentions, you rather try and see if that was a trap instead of refusing and choose to live only by surviving.

- He said you both will be living by an accord: he would take care of you and guarantee a better life, while you promise to never cause any sort of trouble again and also giving back the thing you stole it. For you, it was a win-win situation, so you had no complains.

- Gallagher was a mysterious man to you, full of secrets, always with a tired look. But even so, he was always ready to teach you many things and tips so you can grown up and be a wise adult.

- Also, in any case of potential danger, he was always prepared to keep you safe, hiding you in perfect spots, or keeping you behind him while he takes care of the threat. He was a silent but caring parental figure to you.

- "I didn't have much opportunities to have someone to guide me to be a better person. I don't want you to be like me, kid. I want you to be whoever you want, and better." - He said one day while sipping a drink he prepared and you also drinking a juice he made.

- You didn't get much of what he said, but you knew he was always trying to teach you only the best. He was hiding a lot and you knew it, but you believed it was for your own good.

Bonus: He teaches you the basic of mixing drinks and sometimes you both have nights where you can experiment combinations of drinks all you like! He always drinks everything you create even when the taste is questionable.

Sunday

- Sunday and the Astral Express decided to relax a bit at a nearby stop when he found you.

- You were wandering, with a hollowing look in your eyes, seeming completely lost.

- He decided to approach you, asking if you were okay and where your parents were.

- "I lost my parents. I lost everything. All it remains is.... void. Nothing. I am nothing."

- Sunday eyes widened at the realization you were just a teenager, lost and unprotected making him remind of his sister, and his deep fear of losing her and let her all alone.

- He asked you to follow him and if you wanted to stay with him and his crew for a bit. You just shrugged off, "it's not like if it matters or not", you thought.

- The Astral Express welcomed you with open arms, touched by your situation, and told you can stay as much as you like until you find somewhere you can call a home.

- Even if the others were extremely kind to you, Sunday was the one approaching you the most, including you in every situation. He couldn't help but try to make you see him as an older brother figure to make you feel safer.

- It took a while for you to open up, but as Sunday keep tolding you his and the others stories, making sure you were always comfortable, and reassuring you to take your time to adapt to the new environment, you finally felt like everything is ok.

- As you discover that Sunday would be temporarily in the Astral Express, you insisted that you want to go with him when he finally finds his promised land. Sunday was surprised, specially because you called him big brother as you stated your wish.

- With a tender smile on his face, he promised he will always be with you, and you both will be searching for this land together.

- "Don't be scared little one, the future is uncertain, but as long we stick together, we don't have to fear anything."

Bonus: Sunday writes a letter to Robin saying he wants you both to meet each other, stating that the family got bigger. He cannot wait until the moment you three can be together.

Blade

- Him and the Stellaron Hunters were traveling around following Elio's script when they found you, almost on the verge of death.

- Kafka already knew it was part of the destiny to finding you, and asked Blade to handle the situation.

- He was confused at first, not knowing much what to do, but even so he scooped your fragile body onto his arms and took you alongside to the Stellaron Hunters.

- After some weeks you finally opened your eyes and saw Blade on your side. He told you he knew you would wake up today and was checking up how you were feeling.

- You said you were lost, and still feeling pain, but you remembered a strong man carrying you to safety. "It was you, right?" you asked.

- After you were completely recovered, Kafka always made sure you were always by Blade's side, making Blade teaching you the basic of self defense, even if against his will.

- Somehow, after passing so much time with Blade, you got attached to him, seeing as some sort of big brother figure. You wanted to follow his steps, be strong and relentless as him. You admired him.

- Blade, on the other side, tried to push you away as much as possible. Firstly because he thought you were a hassle to handle, but then he realized it was because he wanted to protect you. He was a monster, and that was no lie to him, and the last thing he wanted was ending up hurting you somehow.

- He didn't know how to handle you most of the times, as he was not used to deal with teenagers, but even that, he started to enjoying your company, even if never admitting that.

- "Listen kid, one day, when my journey reaches to an end, I am going to die. Don't think that as a bad thing. It's my most deserved rest. Until that day, I am going to make you stronger. You will never be like me, but take that as a blessing. You will continue your journey on your own, but this time, you won't need to be scared. Take the obstacles of your journey as challenges to reach your highest potential. Don't waste anything, got it?" He said that to you one day.

- Even if you were scared of losing someone you cared for again, you already understood everything he said. You smiled, and promised to be the strongest warrior someone ever seen.

Bonus: On the beginning of your training, Blade was teaching you how to reach for the enemies weak spot and made you stab him on his chest. You were terrified as seeing the sword crossing his body completely, your mind going blank. Blade couldn't help but laugh as he takes off the weapon watch your reaction as his body regenerates. It was the first time you thought he was super cool.

[charliemwrites]

Gaz loves his Alpha.

He didn’t think it could be like that - a thief in the night after his heart. A silent creeping fog of devotion and affection, filling his lungs and clogging up his head.

From the stories his parents told - a beautiful Alpha/Omega pair, perfectly mid-spectrum that bore two pups - love is wildfire. It sparks, catches, spreads. Heat and light, it burns sometimes. Unmistakable, though, as it consumes.

It wasn’t like that with Saint. Like the Alpha themself, the love trickled in unobtrusive but steady, a dawning of new emotion, forging bonds like bands of sunlight cresting the horizon. Not a crackling blaze but a warming light. Until all at once it was day; it was love.

Saint, patron of devotion.

They’re sleeping under Gaz right now. Long, deep breaths that raise him with each inhale, a slight purr on each exhale. Content with his company even when unconscious.

Their eyes are closed, head lolling to reveal the strong column of their throat. The edge of their scent gland peaks past their compression shirt, a fresh smear of neutralizer over the bruised skin.

Post-Rut Saint is delicious. Lazy and slow as they recover energy and spent calories, napping in long shifts. Languid, relaxed, effortlessly Alpha.

They shift as the scent of Gaz’s arousal tickles their nose, tongue peaking out to swipe over the sharp curve of their fangs. Muzzle on again, of course, but one with bars instead of grid, easier to see their pretty mouth. Gaz is in no condition for another round, not after the thorough three days of fucking he and the other Omegas received, but the thought still makes his gut flip pleasantly.

He churrs, just to see what Saint will do, still mostly asleep.

The Alpha churrs sleepily back, the big hand curled around his thigh flexing.

Always so responsive, his Alpha, now that he knows what to look for. Saint never ignores them, never dismisses them. They’re always attuned to the Omegas, listening, ready to provide. Indulgent, even. Gaz and the others are spoiled - not that anyone would get away with saying so.

“Alpha…” he coos, nuzzling under Saint’s chin.

He does it because he can, and it’s still a novelty. An Alpha so extreme on the spectrum, yet so tolerant of vulnerability and all the liberties he and Soap take. Licking and nipping at their throat, scenting them on a whim, leaning and tugging and pressing close all the time. Not even a grumble for their trouble, just slow blinks and chuffs of amusement.

Alphas usually don’t let anyone but mates or pups near their throats, the submissive subtext and dangerous position grating on their instincts. But Saint has always let Gaz shove his nose against their jugular, or that tender spot beneath their ear, or the hollow where their purr sounds best. Even now, only just stirring, they tilt their chin back to grant him access.

“Omega,” they rumble, and a shiver wracks Gaz from head to toe.

Saint is rare with their voice. Saves it for the field or private moments; the subharmonics are intense, dominating. He barked at an Alpha recruit the other day, a touch less patient in pre-Rut, and the kid practically threw himself to the ground, belly up and whimpering submission. The other recruits dropped their knees and eyes, shying away from the Alpha’s correction.

The response that voice garners in their Omegas is different. Yielding rather than submitting. A happy, gooey melt rather than a brutal breakdown. For Gaz, it sounds like safety, protection, care, leadership. He still gets goosebumps remembering the first time he heard it, during a long-awaited Heat.

“Kyle.”

He jerks a bit, realizing that the voice isn’t just in his memory. Saint is waking, roused by Gaz’s incessant poking and prodding. As always, they don’t seem bothered. Their thumb caresses the back of his neck, sweeps along his hairline, soothing him.

He sits up a bit, anyway. Saint blinks at him through heavy-lidded eyes, obviously not quite with the program yet. That subsonic hum of an Alpha entreating their Pack member to stay, settle, sleep is still vibrating in their chest. Kyle chirps in return, a greeting and assurance in one.

“Time to eat, Alpha.”

Saint blinks twice more, takes a more deliberate breath in. Coming alive again. The subtle shifts in muscle beneath Gaz are enough to obsess over. He’d love to know what they do in that Alpha gym every day, they’re a work of art. Type of body that could go on the cover of porn magazines and Heat partner sites.

Saint yawns, big and wide, teeth on display. Shakes their head a bit to dispel the last of the cobwebs.

“Mm.”

That’s his cue.

He clambers off the Alpha, stretches out long and lithe, maybe showing off just a little. His effort is rewarded with Saint following, nuzzling his hip with an appreciative purr, before standing. They pop their neck with a quick jerk of their chin, before turning to Gaz. Always waiting, always ready.

“The others said they’ll meet us there,” he explains, heading for the door.

Like Alphas of old, Saint always stays at Gaz’s elbow. Easy to speak to, but clearly following the Omega without inciting the sense of being hunted. (Not that Gaz would mind Saint hunting him… not at all.)

“In the usual spot?” Gaz asks, pointing at the 141’s table. At Saint’s nod, he adds, “I’ll get you a tray if you want to go change into the bite guard.”

They hesitate for a moment, considering. Then nod, brushing their wrist against Gaz’s shoulder. He beams, swipes his jaw against Saint’s shoulder, before sauntering to the line.

It’s rare that Saint will wear any less than a muzzle, especially somewhere public like the caf. But post-Rut has them ravenous and slightly less reactive, lowering the bite risk in conjunction with their already iron-clad control. Enough so that they for once feel comfortable settling for a bite guard.

Gaz happily loads up their plate with their favorites, glancing around every once in a while for his other Pack members. Ghost and Price had paperwork to catch up on and Soap switched recruit duty with Gaz so that he could rest a little longer after that final round. They must not be done just yet - no surprise there, they’ve timed it to avoid the worst of the meal crowd.

As Gaz steps out of the line, a tray in each hand, he’s surprised to find the table absent of his Alpha. Saint’s adept with their muzzle and their bite guard, it hardly takes them any time at all to place or remove either.

Then he spots them by the water fountain. They’ve clearly gone to grab an extra cup, dehydrated from Rut. But they’ve been held up by someone.

Gaz recognizes them as a recent transfer, an Omega operator with a decent record. He has no opinion about them one way or another, hasn’t had much chance (or reason) to work with them.

Or at least he didn’t have an opinion until right this moment.

Because they’re not just talking to his Alpha. They’re leaning into Saint, tilting their head just so to show off their pristine mating gland. They’re peering at Saint through their lashes, swishing their hair to release their scent.

And that would be fine and good. At a cafe, a bar, a club, the bloody grocery store - hell, even here. It would be, if they were acting that way with anyone else. Gaz would even cheer them on.

But that’s Saint. That’s the 141’s Alpha. Their Alpha that they’ve built a bond with, that takes care of them, that they love.

And Saint is treating them the way they do every Omega. Calm and stoic, head tilted in non-threat. Listening to what this Omega could need of an Alpha. Only the subtle clench of their jaw and stillness of their chest indicating that they’re even remotely uncomfortable. Speaking to a strange Omega with no muzzle on, post-Rut, in a crowded place.

“Look like you’re about to explode, what’s got you burning pheromones?” Ghost asks.

Gaz didn’t even hear him approach but he’s too busy wrestling down his less flattering instincts to be startled.

Omegas don’t usually have the territorial edge to their protectiveness that Alphas have. Usually. Not never.

“Look,” Gaz growls, jerking his head.

Ghost follows his piercing gaze. “Ah.”

There’s a beat of silence as the Omega sways closer, obviously purring even if they can’t hear it at this distance.

“Well?” Ghost prompts.

Gaz takes a couple steps forward before he even realizes it. Pauses when Ghost’s hand lands on his shoulder, staying. Right. Best not to cause a scene, even if obscene instinct is demanding he climb Saint right there.

Instead, he clears his throat.

“Alpha!” He barks. Not needy or wanting. Demanding.

Saint’s head whips around, silvery gaze locking on Gaz instantly. They don’t look away as they dip their head politely to the other Omega, a silent goodbye, and stride across the room in a handful of long strides.

The rolling chur they let out is questioning, surprise in the arch of their dark brows when Gaz shoves his face in theirs. Scenting them there too, where the skin is so rarely available for it.

“You're irresistible, Alpha,” Ghost chuckles.

Saint grunts in distracted greeting, still looking confused. A big hand circles the back of Gaz’s neck, not quite a scruff.

“Settle,” they murmur, ducking their head to kiss his temple. “Eat.”

And Gaz would be more ashamed of how loud he instantly starts purring - if not for the way Saint’s eyes soften and the corners of their mouth curl slightly up, fond.

“Same to you,” Gaz huffs, tugging their belt loop.

Most Alphas would take at least mild offense, would tell him to watch it, only half joking.

But Saint chuffs in acquiescence and sits, leaving their own Omegas to stand over them - even if momentarily.

Ghost and Gaz settle in, just in time for the Johns to step out of the chow line as well.

“What did that bird want?” Ghost asks as he digs in.

Saint doesn’t take their eyes off their last two pack members. They shrug.

“Looked like they were chattering up a storm,” Gaz notes, only a little tart.

Saint flicks him a devastatingly attractive smirk. “Couldn’t hear them over you.”

And Gaz doesn’t need to hear them say it, to know that Saint loves him just the same.

[puckinghischier]

Shadow Puppets

Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary: reader is terrified of storms, but Nico makes sure she never has to brave them alone

notes: hi!! long time no see! this is a little self indulgent, not gonna lie. i started this last week when some pretty gnarly storms were coming through my town and i struggled finishing it because, surprise, i was scared 🫣. anyways, i hope you enjoy!! happy reading!! 🫶🏼

[3.3k]

~

Storms have never been something that you enjoyed. You don’t understand the appeal of the angry rumbles and blinding flashes that litter the sky during a thunderstorm.

Ever since you were a little girl storms have been high on your fear list. Anytime you saw the purplish-gray of the sky, you were doing everything in your power to drown out the incoming storm.

Much like you were right now. You had just turned a movie on in the living room, volume high enough that you worried your upstairs neighbors could hear. Every curtain in the apartment was drawn closed, preventing you from seeing any flash of lightning that would dance across the dark sky.

Your last line of defense was usually white noise being played through a speaker on low volume to further try and drown out the rumbles that are starting to sound closer by the second. Well, it will be your last line of defense, if you could just find the wireless speaker.

It wasn’t in its normal spot in the kitchen junk drawer, nor was it in the bathroom. It wasn’t in your boyfriend’s practice bag, knowing he sometimes takes it to the rink with him when he hits the gym after a morning skate.

You had looked in both your bedroom and the spare room, the guest bathroom, the hallway closet, the various shelves around the living room, in-between the couch cushions, and you had even braved stepping out onto your small balcony to search for it before rushing back inside after a particularly bright flash of lightning.

It was nowhere to be found.

While you were on all fours on the floor trying to see if it had somehow rolled under the couch, you heard the familiar chime of your ringtone coming from the table behind you, startling you a bit.

Seeing your boyfriend’s name flash on the screen, you pick up the phone immediately, speaking a small hello into the device just as an especially loud crack of thunder rings out.

“Hey, Schatz. You okay? Just heard the storm outside, knew you were home alone and wanted to check on you during intermission. Got all of your safety nets in place?” Nico’s worried voice hurries out, slightly out of breath.

The Devils were hosting a charity scrimmage tonight, the proceeds going to a local youth hockey program. Nico had offered for you to come and watch, but you had been wanting to catch up on the reality shows he always complained about watching with you. When he left a few hours earlier, the sky was blue and there were no clouds to be seen.

You didn’t regret your decision until thirty minutes ago when your phone started blaring an alarm with a severe storm warning alert.

“Yeah, I’m okay for right now. Have a movie on and the curtains are closed. I can’t find the speaker, though. Do you remember where you last saw it?” you ask him, placing the phone on speaker so you can continue to search.

“Oh Schatz, I’m so sorry,” Nico starts, regret joining the worry in his tone. “I have the speaker with me. Put it in my game bag this morning. Went and got a few reps in the gym in before warm-ups today. I didn’t look at the forecast before I left, I didn’t know you’d need it.”

Your stomach drops at his confession, your anxiety spiking. You needed the speaker in order to fully drown out the thunder. It was something you and your mom had come up with when you were a kid to help you sleep if it was storming at night. You hadn’t tried to get through a storm without the technique since.

“It’s…it’s okay, Neeks. Really. I’ll be fine,” you start, trying to hide the anxious quiver of your voice. “It’s just a little-“ your sentence gets interrupted by a boom of thunder so loud you could feel the vibrations from the floor you were currently kneeled on.

Nico’s guilt only increases at the yelp you let out, his heart breaking further when he hears the whimper you tried to hide afterwards.

“Y/N are you sure you’re okay? I can try to see if Nicole can come over for a bit? Jesper said she stayed home, too. Or I can send someone to come get you and bring you here if you want?” he offers, hating the fact you’re in the apartment alone.

“No, it’s okay. It’ll probably be over by then, anyways, right?” you ask, needing the reassurance that it was only a short storm.

“Yeah, baby, I’m sure it’s almost over. Just turn the tv up and grab your weighted blanket. I’ll be home as soon as I can, okay?”

“Okay,” you squeak out, another low rumble coming from the world outside.

“I love you, okay? I’ll call again to check on you next intermission. Be home before you know it, Schatz.”

“Love you too, Neeks. Play safe,” you tell him before hanging up the phone.

You take his advice and find the weighted blanket he bought you last year after a particularly nasty storm had come through when he was away on a roadie.

He read online that the pressure could help comfort people during anxiety inducing moments, so he had one delivered to your shared apartment the next day. You were extremely thankful for it, especially in moments like this, but nothing can replace having Nico here with you to comfort you during an especially rough storm.

You were trying really hard to focus on the movie, having raised the volume even more to supplement the loss of the noise from the speaker, but the noises from the storm outside only got louder and louder.

You could hear the wind whipping around the tall building you were in, adding a whole new layer to your current distress. Checking your phone constantly, you knew it was still only a severe storm, no further warnings had been issued, but you were starting to get worried the bad weather was here to stay.

Resorting to laying on the couch with eyes closed and hands over your ears to muffle the sounds, your fear had reached its peak. You felt embarrassed, wondering why you couldn’t just find comfort in the harsh weather like a normal person. Instead, you were laying on your couch in a fetal position with your hands covering your ears as a grown woman.

Another intense crack infiltrated your apartment, causing your shaking body to jump, eyes snapping open. Just as you were able to calm your racing heart, you were suddenly covered in darkness.

It felt like someone had just dumped ice water all over your body, every nerve alert with fear. You sat completely still, waiting for the warm lights to flicker back on.

The longer you sat waiting, the worse you felt.

There was no way you could survive this storm with no power. There was nothing to block out the wind and thunder. There was nothing to lessen the bright flashes of light through the curtains. You were so paralyzed by fear you couldn’t even make the short trek to the kitchen to grab a flashlight or light the various candles littered throughout the apartment.

While debating with yourself about if you were going to be brave enough to get up off the couch and walk through the dark apartment, you heard the lock on your front door unlock with a click.

Every movement in your body stopped, including the rise and fall of your chest. You held your breath and sat as still as you could, more petrified with fear than you had ever been before.

Who was coming into your apartment in the middle of a storm like this? The only other people with keys were Nico and your landlord. One of those people was in the middle of a hockey game twenty minutes away.

A new wave of fear washed over you. What if it was your landlord coming in because he had to evacuate the building? Was the storm that bad? It sounded that bad, but you were always a terrible judge at what classified a storm as bad.

Any storm was bad to you. The slightest rumble of thunder had you wanting to dive under the nearest table like a child.

The door creaked open, squeaky footsteps making their way into your apartment. You continued to lay there, unmoving.

“Schatz? You in here?” you heard a familiar accent call out, all tension in your body disappearing at the sound.

Your body springs up into a sitting position, turning your head to look behind the couch, the sight in front of you almost causing relieved tears to well in your eyes.

Nico stood by the closed door, hanging his dripping jacket on one of the many hooks on the wall in front of him. His soaking wet hair was adding to the puddle on the floor left by his jacket.

He was wearing a pair of athletic shorts and one of his Devils hoodies, the latter only slightly drier than the jacket he had just removed.

He shook out his hair, making you bite back a giggle at how he resembled a dog shaking out its fur, before looking up and seeing your alert eyes peeking over the couch at him.

“Oh, Schatz, are you okay?” he sighed as he made his way over to you.

His socks audibly squished as he rounded the end of the couch, coming to crouch before you.

He took your hands in his own, making you flinch at how cold they were.

Bringing his lips down to blow onto your intertwined hands, he mumbles out a “M’sorry, I wasn’t here, pretty girl.”

You meet his eyes through his wet eyelashes, admiring how pretty he looks right now, brain still catching up to the fact he’s here.

Staring at him while he warms his hands with your own, you remember that he was supposed to still be at the charity game right now, having only called you at the beginning of the first intermission not even thirty minutes ago.

As soon as you open your mouth to question him, you were reminded of the reason for your current state.

A blinding flash of light illuminates the dark apartment, thunder rumbling almost immediately after.

Slamming your eyes shut to try to block the sight, you try to move your hands to your ears once again, but they’re still clutched between both of Nico’s.

You feel the couch next to you sink underneath his body weight, his arms moving to come around your shoulders as he hugs your body into his.

His hand moves up and down your arm in a soothing motion, a small “shhh” coming out of his mouth as his lips rest against your temple.

“You’re safe, darling. You’re alright. I’m here,” he says softly on repeat, working you through the moment of panic.

You allow your body to sink into his, reveling in the comfort that his presence brings you.

“That’s it, just relax. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, alright?”

After several minutes of relishing Nico’s presence, you finally lean back and put a small amount of distance between the two of you.

He moves his hands to smooth down your hair and cup your face, tilting your head up so he can look into your eyes and make sure you’re okay.

As you give him a small smile, he leans forward and places a kiss first on the tip of your nose and then moves his lips up to rest on your forehead.

He pulls back, leaving your face trapped in-between his hands, speaking softly.

“Power went out, didn’t it, Schatz?”

You simply nodded, finding it hard to speak with your cheeks squished.

He starts rubbing his thumbs back and forth on your cheeks, “Scared you when it went out, huh? That why you look so startled when I came in?”

You nodded again, starting to feel a little silly with the chipmunk cheeks he’s caused you to have.

“Well, let’s go fix that, shall we?” Nico finally removes his hands from your face, standing up and reaching his hand out to help you stand from the couch.

He leads you into the kitchen, stopping at the drawer that holds a lighter and flashlights for occasions like this one. He grabs two flashlights out of the drawer, turning one on and handing it to you.

Taking his own flashlight, he turns it on and immediately places it directly under his chin, pulling a face in the shadow of the light coming from the plastic.

His actions cause you to giggle, rolling your eyes at how childish your big, ‘scary’ hockey player can be.

“There she is. Knew I could get that cute little laugh out of you,” he beams, proud of his success.

He grabs the lighter and takes your hand once again, leading you around to every candle you have placed around the apartment. You hold the flashlights as he lights each candle until every last one is lit and the apartment is bathed in golden light once again.

The two of you end up back on the couch sharing your weighted blanket as Nico becomes your buffer to the storm outside. You sit with your head resting against his chest for a little while before you remembered that he wasn’t supposed to be here right now.

You raise your head up and sit back, situating yourself so you’re halfway facing him while still being tucked into his side.

“You’re not supposed to be here right now.”

Nico moves his head back and looks at you like you’re crazy.

“What?” he says through a chuckle, amused at how random you words were.

“I mean, you’re supposed to be at the charity game right now. You called me during the first intermission, you should be playing in the third period by now,” you explain your outburst.

Nico laughs, shaking his head. “For a second I got worried you were about to kick me out, Schatz.”

“Nico, I’m being serious,” you roll your eyes. “Why did you leave the game early? Is everything okay at the rink? Did the storm damage something?”

Nico looks over at you, a fond smile on his face.

“Have I told you how pretty you look today?” is all he says in response, bringing a finger up to stroke from your temple down to your chin.

You move your head away from his hand and scoff, annoyed at his avoidance.

“Nico…” you warn.

He sighs, knowing you’re not going to be happy with his answer.

“I left early.”

“You…left early?” you parrot his words back to him, unimpressed.

“Yes, I left early. I told them there was an emergency here and I needed to get home to you, so I left,” he explains, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. “It was just a charity game, anyways. We were playing against our own guys, not like it was anything they couldn’t do without me.”

You fully remove yourself from him and sit back on your heels. He frowns at the loss of contact as he readjusts himself to sit up straighter.

“Nico, you can’t just leave a game like that!” you scold him. “Think about how excited those kids were to see you play tonight. The fact that it was a charity game should have made it even more important.”

You cross your arms, glaring at him for how bad this could make him look.

“Y/N, you were here, alone, during a raging storm. When I called, I could feel how scared you were through the phone. I knew as soon as the lights flickered at the arena, I couldn’t leave you here by yourself,” he explained, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You argued anyways.

“Nico, think about how bad this could make you look. ‘Devils captain leaves charity game early because his girlfriend is a scaredy-cat and can’t stay by herself during a silly little thunderstorm’” you put on your best sportscaster voice for the last sentence.

It was Nico’s turn to roll his eyes at you, shaking his head at your words.

“First of all, don’t count on a job with ESPN anytime soon,” you swat at his chest. “Second of all, I appreciate your concern about my image and my job, but I don’t care.”

“You should! You should care, Nico. You’re the captain. You need to care more than anyone else,” you cry out at him.

Nico grabs your hands in midair as you wave them around to emphasize your words.

“Schatz, I. Don’t. Care.” He pauses, trying to let the words sink in. “You know why I don’t care? Because you will always come first, do you hear me?”

Your mouth snaps shut, the intensity of the way he’s looking at you making you still.

“My job is just a game. It will always be just a game. A game that I’m thankful that I get to play every day, don’t get me wrong, but at the end of every day, it’s just a game.” He pauses again, making sure you understand him.

You don’t even flinch at the thunder that rings out around you, too caught up in the moment that’s happening between you and Nico right now.

“You, my pretty girl, are not a game. You’re the absolute best thing that has ever, and will ever, happen to me. You’re the biggest priority in my life, not hockey. I could quit hockey tomorrow and be just fine as long as I still have you to come home to every day. You’re the one thing I can’t lose. So yeah, I don’t care if I’m missing a scrimmage right now. They don’t need me. You did. So, here I am, exactly where I’m ‘supposed to be’” he mocks your earlier statement.

By the end of his speech you have tears in your eyes, not because of the storm this time.

You smile at him, an emotional tear slipping down your cheek, Nico’s hand reach out to wipe it away before you could wiggle one of your own from his hold.

“I love you, you know that?” you tell him, leaning your cheek into his open palm. “But you’re still stupid for leaving the game early,” you add at the end.

“Love you more, Schatz. Always.” He responds with a slight chuckle, ignoring the second part of what you said, bringing your face to his.

Your lips meet in a sweet, loving kiss. You rest your foreheads against one another before Nico pulls back, dropping his hand from your face.

“Now, I do believe we have some powerless entertainment to partake in,” he tells you, wiggling his eyebrows at your suggestively.

You lean in towards him once again, cocking an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

“Oh…Yeah” he leans back in, his hot breath fanning on your face with his words.

You catch his arm moving out of the corner of your eye, not wanting to remove your gaze from his face to find out what he was doing.

The staring contest the two of you had going on was starting to make you squirm when you hear a click ring out from in-between your bodies, light erupting through what little space is there.

You look down to see one of the flashlights from earlier in his hand, a cheeky grin on his face. Looking back up, you give him a confused look.

“It’s time for shadow puppets!” he excitedly bursts, moving the flashlight to shine on the wall, holding up his pointer and middle fingers to make a shadow bunny on the wall.

You burst out into belly laughs, body falling over his, head landing in his lap.

“C’mon, now, get up, its your turn,” he sits you up, handing you the flashlight.

As you look over at Nico, an expectant look on his face, you suddenly don’t care if it storms all night and the power never comes back on. As long as Nico’s with you, nothing could ruin the happiness running through your veins in this moment.

[4vanaa]

WHILE YOU WERE SLEEPING, rafe cameron, 16

summary: y/n left the outer banks years ago, determined to build a life far from the memories of her childhood love, rafe cameron. now a botanist, she's moved on-though a quiet part of her still clings to the past. when an event brings her back to OBX, she's forced to confront the one person she never truly forgot.

cw: swearing | masterlist | 15 | 17 |

The moment you step into the Tannyhill estate, you’re hit with the smell of freshly polished wood and something faintly citrusy—just like you remember. As a wave of nostalgia passes through you. You walk further in, eyes scanning the familiar space, and nearly run into Wheezie, who practically bounces toward you.

“Y/N!” she says, throwing her arms around you. “You’re here!”

“Hi, Wheeze!” you laugh, hugging her back. “You’ve gotten so tall, seriously. Stop growing already!”

She pulls back and grins. “You’re just short.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you tease, shaking your head. “How have you been?”

“Good,” she says brightly, leading you toward the kitchen. “I missed you, though. I was kinda hoping you’d be my sister-in-law one day…” Her voice trails off playfully, but she sneaks a glance at you.

You raise an eyebrow, ignoring the pang in your chest. “Wheezie—”

“Anyway,” she cuts you off, opening a cabinet and pulling out the package Sarah asked you to pick up. “Here. It’s all ready.”

“Thanks, kid,” you say, ruffling her hair like old times.

Before you can leave, you hear a familiar voice behind you. “Well, look who it is.”

You turn to find Rafe leaning against the counter, an easy smirk on his face. He looks at you like he’s trying to figure out why you’re here, but there’s no mistaking the surprise in his eyes.

“Rafe,” you say evenly, your tone polite.

“Sunshine,” he replies, pushing off the counter and walking over. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Just running errands for Sarah,” you say, holding up the package.

He nods, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets. “So, uh… Noah’s coming tomorrow?” His tone is casual, but there’s an edge to it that you don’t miss.

You tilt your head slightly, narrowing your eyes. “Yeah, he is. Why?”

“No reason,” he says quickly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Guess I just assumed he wasn’t coming since you’re already here.”

You give him a pointed look. “He’s been busy with work, but he’ll be here for the wedding. You know, to support Sarah.”

Rafe lets out a breath, his smirk faltering. “Right. That makes sense.” He hesitates, then scratches the back of his neck. “I, uh… I wanted to say sorry. For last night.”

You blink. “For what?”

“The drunk text,” he admits, looking mildly embarrassed. “It was stupid, and I shouldn’t have sent it. My bad.”

You cross your arms, raising an eyebrow. “Not your finest moment, Cameron.”

He winces, but there’s a hint of amusement in his expression. “Yeah, I deserved that.”

There’s a brief silence before he speaks again. “Anyway… I was thinking we could grab lunch or something. You know, catch up.”

You give him a tight smile. “I’d have to check with my boyfriend.”

Rafe’s smirk returns, just a little. “Right. Noah. Got it.”

“Glad we’re on the same page,” you say, shifting the package in your hands.

“Alright,” he says, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I’ll let you go before Wheezie starts asking for updates on your love life.”

You can’t help but chuckle as Wheezie reappears, looking between the two of you with a grin. “What’d I miss?”

“Nothing,” you say, turning toward the door. “Thanks for the package, Wheeze. Tell Sarah I’ll drop it off later.”

And with that, you’re out the door, back to Mia and the safety of her car. As you buckle up, she gives you a curious look.

“How’d that go?” she asks, already scrolling through her phone.

You start the engine, glancing at Tannyhill in the rearview mirror. ���Same as always,” you say, pulling out of the driveway. “Too much Rafe Cameron for one day.”

Mia laughs. “Sounds like a nightmare.”

“Something like that,” you murmur, though your mind lingers on the way he’d looked at you as you left. Something unspoken, something unfinished. But you shake it off. It’s nothing. It has to be.

a/n: ahh he’s finally arriving…

🏷️: @xoxo-ada @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @sleepiibunniiii @urbrunettebombshell @sideboobrry11 @acidfeens @marleymarleymarleymarley @hadids-world @ursogorgeous1313 @louxmcl @cyberkitty1 @pogueprincesa @rlalliehayes @evelynffics

[jinnie-ret]

protection

stray kids x reader (platonic)

genre: fluff, angst

content warnings: bullying, physical abuse, verbal abuse

Remember to reblog if you enjoy, and my asks are open! :)

you're a 15 year old trainee at JYP, good friends with the Stray Kids members who took you under their wing and see you as a younger sister. What they don't know is that you're being bullied by a couple of older trainees, who are jealous of your friendship with them.

MASTERLIST

It was getting worse. The rude comments, the punches, the feeling of being broken apart. Why did they have to pick on you? You deserved to be here as much as anyone else. You had been a trainee at JYP for three years now, joining when you were 12 years old, tearily waving goodbye to your parents as you bravely made the move to achieve your dreams. You would think that any trainee would be able to empathise with the other, knowing that they were all going through their own emotions, figuring out their emotions at the same time as trying to make your debut.

With some people, one emotion was more prevalent than others.

Jealousy.

There were two girls that had noticed you getting closer with the talented group Stray Kids, and they despised the fact that it wasn't them getting all the attention. But it wasn't a thing of getting attention for you, no, it was the guidance, the safety, the ease you felt of being yourself around them. They were your brothers, simple as that.

Going to dance class the next day shouldn't have been so daunting. You had had plenty of help from danceracha, the boys talking you through the steps, helping you correct the finer details whilst encouraging you and hyping you up at the same time. Yet, when you saw the two girls who were making your life miserable, you wanted to run and hide.

It was a breath of fresh air when you finally finished the dance lesson, yet it seemed to all be taken away from you when you felt a hand yank you backwards into a supply closet.

You let out a yelp as the door was harshly slammed.

"W-what?!?" you shakily called out.

Your hair was yanked back and you yelped again.

"Quiet bitch!" you recognise the voice of one of the girls from your class. You thought you had escaped them this time, but they always found a way to catch you off guard and drag you down even further.

"You must have some nerve going near our boys," Daesun practically growled in your ear as she glared down at you.

You pulled a face of confusion but that must have angered them judging by the harsh slap you received.

"Ah!" you winced from the sheer force of the hand colliding with your face.

"Be quiet! Silly girl, don't want people knowing you're weak, do we?" Daesun kicked your shin, hard.

"And don't act like you don't know what we're talking about!!" Jia practically spat.

The silence after they spoke didn't sit well with them, but you were too busy trying to breathe through the pain.

They then pushed into a shelving unit, pain spreading across your back as you tried to regain your balance and not give them the satisfaction of crying out loud in pain once again.

A hand was tightly wrapped around your throat.

"Aren't you gonna say something?!?" Daesun dangerously tilted her head.

"You told me to be quiet" you choked out, trying to push their hands off of you.

They chucked you to the ground, you gasping for air as you felt a foot stomp down on your back.

"Pathetic. You do whatever anyone tells you. So you better listen. Don't go anywhere near our boys or you won't get off as lightly as you are right now!" They threatened you.

But you didn't get off lightly, if it was anything to go by with your bruised back from their angered kicks, or the spontaneous black eye you received for just 'laying there and taking it'.

They had left the supply closet, but their words hadn't left your mind.

Pathetic

Useless

Untalented

They had left the supply closet but you hadn't missed the sound of the lock turning. Whimpering in pain from the slightest movement, you didn't quite have the motivation to try and stand and unlock the door.

You felt guilty as you were due to go and hang out with the boys, but you must have fallen asleep because the next thing you know, the door unlocked and there was the gasp of a cleaner who was trying to collect her supplies.

"Sweetie what happened to you?" She said as she helps you up, concern shining through her eyes as she takes in your bruised, unsteady form.

"Please don't tell anyone I'm just going to head home now," you whispered and quickly walked away. You couldn't head home, not really, you still had a vocal lesson to attend later. But that sweet old lady didn't need to know that.

You limped, holding your back as you rounded the corner, but then you heard their voices. You swiftly changed the direction you were headed in and got into the elevator, pressing the button to the floor you were so used to visiting, like it was second nature.

You made a beeline to Chan's studio, where 3RACHA worked their magic, thankful no one was in there. You just needed a safe space right now, and so you hid under the desk, curling up and trying to calm yourself down from the pain, and from the tears that wouldn't stop falling down your face.

The door opened, a set of footsteps entering and you couldn't help the sound of feat that escaped you because all that was running through your mind is that they found you.

"Hello?" A voice called out.

Shit

It was Han.

There was movement before a face was staring down at you curled up underneath the desk

You didn't think he had quite realised it you.

"Excuse me I don't think you can be in here, is everything ok?" He said gently.

This only made you cry more, my shoulders shaking violently feeling overwhelmed by his gentle tone after having to deal with Daesun and Jia.

"Wait... Y/N? Y/N what are you doing here? What's wrong?" He said hurriedly and concerned, his face peering at me under the desk.

"Please they won't leave me alone.. I'm not meant to talk to you," you cry, unable to forget what the older girls had said to you.

"Hey it's ok, it's ok, just stand up with me.. that's it, now come with me" he says gently holding you as he guides you to stand.

Suddenly he gasps, "your face... what happened?"

"It's my fault I couldn't stop it" you say distressed and still crying, his hands slightly tightening around his grasp on your arms as he realises something horrible must have happened.

"Ok, it's ok Y/N just walk with me" he says leading you out of the studio and into the practice room further down the corridor, but you try and stop him from doing it. You're not meant to talk to them, you remind yourself.

You use your body weight to lean the opposite way but he wraps his arms around you and tries to stop you, not finding it difficult to do so.

"Y/N... Y/N calm down, it's ok," his eyes glisten as he watches my scared and upset form.

"No no no I can't go in there they'll find out" you mumble, shaking your head repeatedly

"I got you ok, and so do the boys. Whatever or whoever you're scared of, forget about it, we'll look after you. And I want to know why you were curled up in the studio terrified out of your mind," Han guides you towards the door, opening it and walking you into the practice room where the rest of the group awaits.

"Hey Han did you get your headphones? Where were- Oh my... Y/N?!?"

"Where did those bruises come from?!"

"What on earth happened?"

"Aish! Quick sit her down."

Han walks you with him over to the sofa and the rest of the boys all moved over to gather around you.

"Y/N, what happened?" Hyunjin asked concerned.

You just shook your head not wanting to answer from your seat between Felix and Lee Know.

"Han... What happened to her?" Chan questioned looking serious, seeing your shaking form.

"I'm not sure hyung. I went into our studio to get my headphones and then I just found her curled up like this underneath the desk." Han explained looking at you concerned.

Felix had an arm gently resting around your shoulders trying to ease your trembling.

"Ah poor girl," Lee know murmured.

A hand tapped your knee making you flinch slightly even at that, but you looked up and saw Changbin which made you relax a bit.

"Y/N... Please tell us what happened, we don't have to do anything if you don't want us to but at least tell us where you're hurt so we know you're not in as much pain." He said to you, looking you in the eyes.

You nodded and heard some sighs of relief as you did so, shuffling slightly to move more into the middle of the sofa out of Felix's hold.

You clasped my hands together nervously thinking where to start.

"It's ok Y/N, it's just us in here." Hyunjin reassured you, standing in between Seungmin and Jeongin.

You nodded and stood up on shaky legs.

"Umm.. well.." you didn't know what to say and just pointed to your back.

"Are you trying to say your back is hurt?" Seungmin asked. You simply nodded in response as you bit your lip.

"Ah then sit down! You'll need to rest if your back is hurt" Chan inputted looking concerned.

Jeongin stepped forward and gently helped you sit down back next to Felix and Lee Know.

"Can you tell us if it's your lower back or whereabouts the pain is?" Changbin gently asked, from where he was now kneeled down in front of you.

But you were at a loss of how to explain that your whole back was in pain.

"Y/N? Is that too much or do you want us to stop now?" Han said sitting on the floor in front of you next to Changbin.

You shook your head, thankful at their consideration, "ah... All?"

You took in deep breaths thinking about how you were going to be able to bullying. Would they be angry at you for not telling them?

"My whole back hurts, but more lower," you close your eyes not wanting to see their reactions.

"Ok well done, good job, thank you for telling us Y/N," Felix said reassuringly.

"Now, is there anything else you can tell us?" Han asked steadily, and that was when you froze up even more.

Your thoughts were taking over and you began to feel scared again.

You grabbed onto your left wrist in hopes that it would help explain where else you were hurt, other than the obvious bruise painting your left eye black and blue.

"Ok, ok Y/N we're just gonna roll up that sleeve and then we can get a female staff member to help with your leg and back ok?" Chan said to you.

"No no no, no special attention, they'll be annoyed." You said, eyes wide open now and terrified.

Lee know immediately rubbed your back soothingly to try and calm you down but it wasn't working.

Meanwhile, Han was whispering to Hyunjin.

"This is what it was like when I was trying to get her to come in, she was saying similar things..."

"She's obviously scared of something or someone but I don't think she'll tell us" Hyunjin replied, hand on his chin in thought of what could have happened to the girl they all saw as their younger sister.

And as if timing couldn't have been any worse, the door opened wide and the two people you didn't want to see walked into the room. All their questions would soon be answered.

"Hey oppas can we have an extra dance practice?" Jia batted her eyelashes at Seungmin, who wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"Yeah we want to show you how good we are," Daesun smirked.

"You should not be in this room, this is an idol practice room, please leave," Bang Chan sternly told the two girls.

You tried to get out of Lee Know and Felix's arms in a state of panic, your flight response kicking in. The girls saw you as soon as you moved though.

"Yah why's that brat- I mean oh Y/N are you practicing too?" Jia tried to cover her tracks.

Knowing you couldn't stand up because the boys wouldn't let you leave you just gripped onto Han's hand in front of you.

"What did you just call her?" Changbin asked horrified.

"Oh nothing- you know what I can't keep this up anymore I can't carry on being nice to her when she's clearly seeking attention from you guys," Daesun said bitterly.

Being too used to her harsh tone you recoiled back into the sofa and sucked in a harsh breath.

"There's no way she's seeking attention from us, I'm more curious to why she's so scared of you," Han spoke up.

"I don't think you've been acting all that nice to her either" Jeongin pitched in, looking over at your small form which looked shaken up.

"Oh come on you can't seriously be taking her side?!" Daesun spat.

"Look at her, it's not just a matter of taking her side but it's obvious you're the reason why she's like this," Hyunjin said with his eyes wide, gesturing towards your bruises.

"You're her elders, you're mean to take care of her and help her in dance not make things worse for her," Lee Know said angrily, dance was his passion and he hated how you were struggling even more with it because of two other trainees.

"Oh forget about practice we'll just go now you're clearly occupied" Jia said rolling her eyes and walking away with Daesun following.

"Actually no, you'll be coming with us to JYP's office, then we'll see how much you really cared about practicing," Chan said, gesturing Seungmin Han and Hyunjin to follow him out the room.

The whole time you were distracted, looking at the floor trying to block out what was going on around you, still shaking and just waiting for everything to be over.

You felt someone rub your shoulder in effort to get your attention and saw Jeongin looking at you.

"How about we get you home huh?" He asked you gently.

You nodded lightly because it had been a stressful day and it was exhausting being confronted by the girls twice in one day.

You went to stand up with the help of Changbin and Felix but your back ached making you wince in pain.

"Ahhh" you hissed out.

The boys helped you sit back down.

From beside you Lee Know spoke up.

"Y/N how about just for your back at the moment we get one of the female assistants help you?" He asked, but you felt anxious of the thought of another older girl coming near so you shook your head rapidly.

"Ok ok ok, don't worry no one else will come in here then. How about we get a pain soothing cream and we leave you to apply it on your back?" He asked calming you down.

"Ok," you agreed to that and waited for it as Changbin rushed out to get it.

He came back in with it and with the other boys following behind too, returning from JYP's office and leaving the girls to face their boss's wrath.

You took it and looked at the boys expectantly.

"Ah sorry, we'll wait outside so no one else comes in and just let us know when we can come back in." Chan said.

You odded thankfully and waited for them to leave before applying the cream. You pulled up the back of your jumper whimpering slightly at the smallest movement, but you still managed to rub in the cream gently. After that you put the lid back on and called for the boys to come back in.

"Ok?" Felix said looking at you questioningly.

You simply nodded in response shuffling over so he could sit back down as well as Lee know and Han as they squeezed in too.

"At the moment the girls have been temporarily suspended from the company, obviously nothing can be done until they see you too and hear your side of the story too but we're not gonna put that pressure on you yet" Chan explained.

"We just want you to rest a bit and then when you're ready we'll be right by your side" Hyunjin said to you, looking deep into your eyes trying to read your emotions.

"Thank you guys, it means a lot that you've done this for me," you admit, taking in a deep breath.

"Of course, you're like our little sister, we couldn't just let that slide," Felix said warmly.

"Now, I think it's time we head home?" Changbin stated.

"Yeah, and Y/N is coming to stay with us" Jeongin said nodding at you, and nodded back indicating you were comfortable in doing that.

"Good, we'll take care of you and make sure you're ok," Han smiled reassuringly at you.

They never failed in looking after you, and of course they'd have to ask you more questions on the ins and outs of this later. But for now, they wanted to be able to keep an eye on you and make sure you're safe.

tagged: @oo-li

[ixiot-ghostrebel]

i don't really mind what character you use but if you are comfortable with it could you add a one sided crush the reader has on the rover (female) and jinhsi also I'm not sure how you feel about giving kids trauma so sorry if it makes you uncomfortable but can you make the reader come from a bad family or had something really horrific happen in front of them {like a house fire or someone they like getting hurt} leading them to being overly protective of the playable characters

-from a certain witch from a far off land

Alr I'll do Jinhsi and Rover...However. No romance—as your original request was a kid/minor Reader. Ik there's nothing wrong with teen romance, but my rules have stated: all children are strictly platonic.

(PS - Anon ur name is so long 😭 how can I remember this glorious title?)

Teen!Reader, the...OTHER Sentinel of Jinzhou

You get the gist of it—you were minding your own business, enjoying the content of a very cool game...And boom, magical transfer into the game. You're freaking out, and next thing you know...

Welcome, you're god now. Rejoice in your own presence.

Did I mention that you've also bumped into two very special people yet? No? Too late, I just did :)

(Warning: Might be OOC!)

Rover

The first time Rover met you, Rover felt 1000 times older. Like, to Jue, the draconic Sentinel of Jinzhou, they was the Arbiter General that practically helped establish the civilization. With you in the picture...and your physique...

Yes, you make them feel like a very ancient elder. Someone get this Rover a walking chair or a normal sitting chair. Maybe even a doctor, they might pass away from heart failure.

All jokes aside, Rover really gets not wanting to be special. Alright, this person's been there—everyone around them were hot on their heels the moment they opened their eyes, and that's not even mentioning the Black Shores, Jinzhou's government, the Fractsidus...

"No worries, [Y/N]. I won't tell a soul unless you're ready to tell others first." They keep your secret of being the other Sentinel of Jinzhou. Did I mention that their warm smile also gives them bonus points? They make you feel protected, and they quite literally will protect you should the situation present itself dangerous.

Also, if you want to talk to Jue but need moral support, look no further. Just ask Rover. They did it once, they'll do it again.

All in all? 10/10, this Rover ain't gonna be snitching you out to the city over their dead body.

Jinhsi

The first time she met you and realized you were the other Sentinel of Jinzhou, she was evidently shocked. You were barely an adult—you had both the mentality and the physique of a teenager! You were almost like her, in a sense, and little to nothing at all like Jue...except for maybe the power you wield.

She isn't exactly sure what to do at the beginning. She wants to bring you to the City Hall, but you were only a teenager, both in mind and heart. She didn't want to restrict you to responsibilities you barely even knew of yourself. In a case, you were almost like Rover in that way—maybe you forgot your memories of your past as a Sentinel. Or maybe you were reborn as a human Sentinel.

Regardless of the many possibilities of what to do to help you, Jinhsi's first step never came anywhere near to revealing to all of Jinzhou of the whereabouts of their other Sentinel, supposedly lost to time. You needed time to get used to everything, and she can provide that time. After all, nobody knew you were back (yet).

"Trust me, Sentinel [Y/N], I will ensure your safety as much as I possibly can. You are safe in Jinzhou." Jinhsi smiles a reassuring smile. "The people of Jinzhou will always welcome newcomers with open arms, regardless of their upbringing. We will continue to uphold our traditions, for this is something we, as a nation, are proud to continue."

Safe to say, you'll be in good hands. Such a shame though you'll have to be the one to smack Jinhsi around a few times to make sure she doesn't overwork herself. Just because she's supposedly an adult doesn't mean it's okay, okay? (Team up with Sanhua, and you'll probably win)

No matter what you choose (leave or stay) to do in Jinzhou, Jinhsi will make sure you are safe and free from your supposed bonds of being their Sentinel. After all, you do want to experience life at its finest, right?

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: Man, I really need to catch up with Wuwa's 1.1 story SOBBING. I was so excited for Xiangli Yao and Zhezhi too lol—ugh, my motivation really just keeps decreasing bro. I'll try to catch up as soon as possible! Hopefully I'll do it soon— (Watch me accidentally take 30 years just to catch up sobbing)

✦ Check out The Ghost Rebel’s Blog Description & Info Page to See if Their Mailbox is Open! ✦

[always-andromeda]

𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞…

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⟡ Joel Miller x Tess Servopoulos

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ⟡ 700

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ⟡ Joel mourns a life he wishes he could've had.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ⟡ I've had this one stuck in my drafts for a long while. I've been adding to it little by little whenever I've felt sad enough. It's a tiny drabble and I don't feel super confident in it. But I'm trying to ease back into writing. Forgive me for not posting in a while. Life has been a little busy. But please accept my offering of some sad, angsty shit lmao.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ⟡ pure, unadulterated angst. mentions of Ellie. nothing else I can think of!!

He tries not to think about it. About what she’d think – what she’d say – seeing him now. Hair longer than she ever got the chance to see; long enough that she could run her fingers through the silver streaked strands. When he finds himself alone on a quiet night he can sometimes feel it. Her lithe digits caressing the nape of his neck in a way that she never could outside the safety of their four walls.

Back then, everyone knew just who he answered to. Joel Miller was her attack dog through and through. All Tess had to do was point and unclip the leash and he was off. It was an effective arrangement. He used to have an anchor point; a shelter to be reeled back into when he strayed too far. It was a shelter that went up in flames along with Tess. And Jackson is all uncharted, all marked by unfamiliar touches that aren’t hers.

Some part of him always knew it went far deeper than a business arrangement. It was pure luck that staying with Tess was beneficial in both a practical sense and a…less practical sense. Of course he’d always been reluctant to question the less practical parts of their relationship.

Maybe that’s why he does now; when she’s no longer around to pick it apart herself.

He finds Tess in the oddest things. Ellie’s jokes, for one. He knows that Tess would’ve gotten a kick out of them. She would’ve rolled her eyes before remarking, “That was terrible.” All while harboring the slightest grin. Sometimes it’s the image in his head of her eyes glimmering that makes him crack a smile of his own.

It seemed a cruel joke that the world had taken Tess and bestowed the teenager upon him in the same breath. But it made sense. After all, it was the same world that took Sarah and then gave him Tess to begin with. Some days he doesn’t question the trade off. There’s no use. Tess wouldn’t have wanted him to question her sacrifice that way. Other days it is much more difficult to listen to the more practical version of her. Some days…he strays.

She would’ve loved the food. It wasn’t like Bill’s gourmet lunches. But those QZ rations had nothing on the food from the greenhouse. She would’ve loved the fruit. When summer came around he remembered the way she’d woken up from a dream one night. She’d dreamt she was a kid. She was at a farm her parents used to take her to in the summers. She got to bite into the deep crimson flesh of a plum. The juice had only just begun to run down her chin when she’d woken up. Her voice was soft and barely audible over the rumble of FEDRA trucks rolling by their apartment. She said it was just something stupid. To him it was something sacred. He couldn’t explain to Ellie why he’d gone quiet when he saw a basket of plums in the cafeteria. And he wasn’t surprised when his tasted sour.

Even his house felt occupied. Her figure floated in door frames as he cooked and cleaned and did whatever menial task he needed to. Hip cocked and lips curled into a smirk as she teased him over how much he traded for coffee beans. He would’ve said something humorous in response, he’s sure of it. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. She was always far too clever for him. She’d state as much as he poured her a fresh cup of coffee.

It always takes him a second to come back to his reality. There’s no second mug to fill, no second plate at the dinner table, no second pair of boots by the door, no one to share a bed or bathroom with. It’s always empty save for him and his cruel imagination.

How could she haunt a place she’d never been? Maybe that didn’t even matter. Maybe what they’d shared over those difficult years went beyond a time or place. Whether he liked it or not, she was there. But not in the ways that mattered most. Not in the ways Joel wished she was.

[grey-lark]

So Steve having a different car in the the pics I saw filled me with a lot of feelings, both a really fun reason and a terribly sad one. This is the sad one! I might also upload this to AO3 once I edit when it's not 6AM, but I hope you enjoy?

The Bimmer doesn’t’ make sense in an apocalyptic situation.

Steve knows this.

As the Upside Down claws it’s way into this universe, tendrils carving pathways across the town, a luxury car just doesn’t make sense.

Steve is well aware.

Hell, Steve is even more aware of this fact because he’s stationed at the high school. Hauling supplies and survivors requires space. It doesn’t require comfort and a smooth transmission. It doesn’t require leather worn by multiple people launching themselves in with reckless abandon, or a back seat that’s somehow always sticky because of soda-stained hands.

It doesn’t require what Steve can offer.

Loch Nora has been seemingly unaffected by the upside down. Steve would say it was the wealthy’s one last jab against the town if he hadn’t seen so many of his former neighbors huddling in the high school. It seems no matter how rich you are, no one can avoid the hunger - the desperation that comes from being completely cut off from the rest of the world.

Steve lets the engine idle in the drive way of his old house. The intact windows gleam with a promise he’d be willing to brave if he didn’t know for a fact how the twisted vines covered the bottom floor of the house. Pressing his head against the steering wheel, he lets the out a shuttering sigh, feeling how the Bimmer purrs, seemingly in time, below him.

“I know, baby” he laments, running a hand across her dashboard before he steals himself and twists the key in his hand. She shutters down, his own shaky breath following.

It feels right, Steve thinks, to leave her here. To leave her in the remnants of a life he used to live. He slides her keys into the visor, in case there is some one who needs her. Someone who can justify loving her, in a way Steve simply can’t.

There’s a truck waiting for him.

Something practical and light blue; such a far cry from his maroon baby. It makes sense, he knows. He knows that a truck will help him in this new, harsh, world they live in. Knows it will be easier to ferry survivors back to the school and supplies to where they need to go. But he can’t help but look at the Bimmer, now silent in front of his old house, and remember how she safely - impossibly - carried five (sometimes six!) children to the mall regardless of seatbelt laws. How she dutifully shuffled Robin to and from school back when they thought their biggest concerns were whether a girl liked them or not. He can hear Bowie and Queen still playing from her speakers and his breath falters, gasping, as he could swear it’s not just in his head.

Maybe somewhere, there are quarters still rattling around, waiting for Dustin to pry them from her carpet, not knowing the arcade has been swallowed for months. Maybe now there’s even the tail end of a blunt under one of front seats, safely kept after Robin dropped it, laughing too hard to hold on to the last few puffs. Maybe, if Steve presses himself against her side hard enough, all the stains – all the memories – will seep into him and leave the Bimmer a little less haunted.

It doesn’t work, of course.  Even after he opens his eyes, after he peels himself from her metal chaises with a shuddering breath, she’s still standing there, same as she ever was. His childhood home too, stands there as it ever has.

They make quite the picture. The large green house and the sleek maroon car and the boy with the styled hair.

All so put together.

All falling apart.

But it’s okay. There’s a truck waiting for him. It’s practical and light blue. The kids have already climbed into it’s back; figuring out their seating arrangements before Steve even had time to yell at them about the safety issues of riding back there. Max will sit up front in the cabin with him, no matter how much she complains – Vecna assured that. But even she smiles when she hears the hoots and hollers of The Party in the back, howling their freedom in defiance to an ever reddening sky.

Steve’s finger brush the taillight of the Bimmer, before running through his own hair. He sees the house he grew up in; the streets that were his home. He sees his car, his baby, shining like she did when he first saw her. He leaves her, a useless car parked outside an empty home.

His car.

Parked outside his home.

There is a truck waiting for him.

[metalhoops]

Steddie Week Day 6:

True / Misunderstandings / You Looking At Me Looking At You by Ozzy Osbourne

Steve Harrington had a lot of personal downfalls. He’d come to accept most of them with age but there was one he couldn’t shake. He had a near-pathological urge to be liked. Maybe he wasn’t held enough as a baby. Maybe it was something to do with his parents or too much MTV. To hell if he knew. He just wanted people to like him. 

Steve wasn’t naive. He knew he rubbed some people the wrong way. In his life, he’d done a lot of things he’d regretted, things he could never take back. He’d been a real asshole back in high school, as everyone liked to remind him. 

There'd been a point in his life when he’d thought being popular was the same as being liked, but that time had long since passed. He knew better.  He was an acquired taste, and he’d done things he wouldn’t begrudge people for not forgiving. 

Steve had always known Eddie hated him. He didn’t blame Eddie for it, but he thought he deserved a second chance.

Back when the two had gone to high school together, Eddie had made the dislike obvious. Steve distinctly remembered a lunch where Eddie had paraded his way across the basketball table, kicked Steve’s lunch tray to the side and leaned over to tousle his hair before disappearing out of the cafeteria, retreating to the safety of the band room. Steve was left red-faced and messy-haired, gaping in his wake. 

“What the hell was that about?” Steve spat as he passed his lunch to Tommy, his appetite gone. 

“Who knows what’s going on in that freak's head,” Tommy grumbled as he picked at the remains of Steve’s food. He wished he knew. 

The one year Munson had been in marching band, he’d made a point to throw Steve off every chance he could. Basketball practice and band rehearsals coincided every Monday morning. Steve tried to make a layup in practice and Eddie had squealed his obnoxious trombone, sending him skidding across the wooden floor. He’d spent the year with perpetual bloody elbows and knees. 

He’d thought things would be different when he heard Dustin and the rest of the kids had been taken under Eddie’s wing. Steve had changed since high school. He’d gotten better. So when Steve went to pick the kids up, he’d expected a civil greeting from Eddie. Instead, what he got was a cold shoulder. 

Each time he picked up the kids, he’d get a glimpse of Eddie dashing in the opposite direction of the Beamer, hardly bothering to usher the kids off. Alright, so all wasn’t forgiven. Steve needed to learn how to live with it 

Then there was everything with The Upside Down. Eddie almost died and Steve couldn’t help but shoulder the blame for it. He and Dustin spent every day from dawn to dusk oscillating between Eddie and Max’s rooms until the two returned to the waking world. He thought he and Eddie had started to finally see eye to eye. It’d taken the world going down in flames to get them to talk, but once they started, Steve didn’t want to stop. That was until the guy pulled the rug out from under him.

“It’s okay for you to leave, Harrington. You know? You don’t have to stay with my sorry ass all day,” Eddie spoke, toying with his I.V. making Steve cringe. 

He opened his mouth as though to argue, but thought better of it. Maybe that was Eddie’s polite way of telling Steve he didn’t want him there, that he’d overstayed his welcome. 

He shoved his hands into the depths of his pockets and nodded, trying not to look like a dejected child that’d just been chewed up and spat out by an overworked parent. 

Steve managed to mutter his way through a goodbye and disappeared into the hospital hallway. He didn’t have anywhere else to be. He kept worrying something would go wrong the second he turned his back.

He pulled up a chair in the hallway outside Eddie’s room, just out of view, and sat, head in his hands, wondering why it hurt so damn much knowing that Eddie didn’t want him there. 

Steve must have fallen asleep, because he was jolted awake by a calloused hand on his shoulder. He leapt up, wide-eyed with clenched fists, seconds away from lashing out when his brain caught up with him. Wayne Munson’s hand hung in the space between them.

They’d seen more than enough of each other over the past few weeks. He, Wayne, and Dustin had spent hours sitting shoulder to shoulder in relative silence at Eddie’s bedside. Wayne had never once questioned Steve being there, which had always seemed strange. He knew at a glance he’d fit in more with Jason and the rest of the vigilantes out hunting Eddie, not the band of misfits trying to save him, but the first day Wayne had seen Steve huddled at Eddie’s bedside, he’d nodded a half-hearted greeting as though he’d belonged there. 

“Eddie alright?” Wayne asked, a tension in his voice. Steve peered up at the older man and nodded. 

“Yeah, he’s fine. Shit. Sorry. I should be going,” Steve fumbled, rising to stand only to realise his foot had fallen asleep. He tumbled to the linoleum with a string of curses. 

“Hold your horses, kiddo,” Wayne placated, holding Steve by his elbow and hoisting him up to his feet.

The commotion and the voices in the hall seemed to draw Eddie’s attention. 

“Wayne?” Eddie called, his voice drifting down the hall from the open door.

It gave Steve the perfect opportunity to shake the older man’s hold. He turned to run in the opposite direction.

“See you later, Mr Munson,” Steve called over his shoulder and headed out.

Eddie Munson didn’t have many secrets, not from the people he loved. So when he’d developed a crush on The King of Hawkins’ High, Steve Harrington, he’d needed some kind of outlet. He wasn’t going to tell the rest of the boys in Corroded Coffin, not because they didn’t know he was gay, but because he couldn’t stand how goddamn insufferable they’d be about it. 

Of all the people in Hawkins to fawn over, Eddie had somehow landed on a meathead jock. Hell, the king of the meathead jocks. It strictly went against the Munson doctrine. People like Eddie didn’t fall for people like Steve. Not if they wanted to keep their integrity, but that hadn’t stopped Eddie. He’d fallen hard and fast for his stupid hair and his idiotic, condescending grin. 

He’d needed somewhere to channel his feelings. That was where Wayne came in. He’d known Eddie liked guys from the start, considering all the colourful nom de guerres his father threw his way. He could guess it wasn’t much of a family secret. Wayne had been different though. He hadn’t made him feel lesser for it, if anything he’d welcomed it with open arms. 

“So, there’s this guy,” Eddie stated, apropos of nothing one weekend, from his spot reclined on the couch. 

From his spot at their small kitchen table, Wayne set down the morning paper and levelled Eddie with a knowing look. He grunted, letting Eddie know he should continue. 

“Jesus Christ Wayne... he’s something,” Eddie began throwing his arm over his face to hide the flush of his cheeks. 

“So, you and this boy, is it serious?” Wayne asked sceptically. Eddie snorted. He wished.  

“God no. He barely knows I exist. We don’t exactly run in the same circles. The guy’s a jock and straight as a board. He’s on the freaking basketball team, Wayne. There’s nothing about him that I should like,” Eddie acknowledged.

“Then why do you like him?” Wayne asked, taking a long sip of coffee. 

Eddie wished it were something simple. He wished he could say it was because Steve was attractive. That was part of it, sure, but if it was just looks Eddie wouldn’t feel so twisted up. 

“I just- I think he’s different. I don’t know how to explain it. His friends are honest to god assholes but I’ve seen him abandon girls at parties to drive those asshats home. He shares his food with them, and when he gives those bullshit hoorah chants before each game about spirt, teamwork and shit, the guy actually believes it.” 

“What was that about parties?”

“Did I say parties? I meant intimate gatherings where people definitely weren’t under the influence of anything,” Eddie rephrased, shooting his uncle a shit-eating grin. Wayne sighed, knowing how and when to pick his battles.  

“Have you tried talking to him?” Wayne proposed, sounding exasperated. 

“No. Christ no. I don’t know what the hell to say to him. Every time I’m around him it’s like my wisdom stats drop to zero. He probably thinks I’m a weirdo.” To be fair to Steve, it was a popular consensus amongst the kids at Hawkins High.

Wayne wrapped his knuckles on the table. It was a nervous habit that let Eddie know he was thinking. 

“Whatever you do, just be careful, kid. I know I don’t say it as much as I should but having you around... it means something, right? I don’t want to see you make your life any harder.” It was blunt and not at all comforting, but it was Wayne’s version of a pep talk. 

“Alright, good plan. I’ll push my emotions down, grit my teeth and bare it,” Eddie joked, sitting up to get a better look at Wayne, who rolled his eyes. 

“It’s the Munson way,” he spoke dryly. It was his version of a joke so Eddie laughed. 

Talking to Wayne did help. He spent the next few years of his life talking way too much to Wayne about Steve Harrington. He should’ve known one of these days it was going to turn around and bite him in the ass. 

When Wayne got the call Eddie was in hospital he was hit with a barrage of emotions: relief, panic, and worry. No one ever told Wayne just how goddamn hard it was to be a parent, let alone the parent of a kid who didn’t quite fit in. 

He���d been thrown for a loop when he found two boys at Eddie’s bedside. One looked vaguely familiar. He was one of the younger kids in Eddie’s club, but the other boy was a complete stranger. Wayne was about to throw the kid out on his ass when the fabric of a familiar denim jacket caught his attention. The boy had Eddie’s jacket clasped in his lap. He held it like it was something precious. It made Wayne pause. The young kid looked up, catching Wayne’s attention.

“Mr Munson? I’m Dustin. This is Steve. We were with Eddie during the accident.” The final puzzle piece slid into place. Steve Harrington. He’ll be damned. 

Once he knew Eddie was safe, he’d tried to pry more information from the boys to little avail but they made good company for the long days and nights that followed Eddie’s admission to the hospital. In that time, Wayne started to see the kind of person Steve Harrington was. He decided if his boy was going to be with anyone, Eddie could’ve picked a lot worse. 

Wayne didn’t push Eddie to tell him anything. He’d never been that kind of parent but at some point, he had to intervene to save his own goddamn peace of mind. 

“Who were you talking to?” Eddie asked as Wayne pulled up his familiar seat at Eddie's bedside. 

“Steve. He was waitin’ out in the hallway. Figured something happened between you two.” His nephew looked perplexed. 

“Nothing happened. I told him he could leave hours ago.” Right. Wayne was going to have to sort these two out, wasn’t he? 

“Did you tell him he could go, or did you ask him to leave?” Eddie blinked up at him, as though the thought hadn’t crossed his mind.

“Closer to the second. I didn’t want him to feel like he had to hang around,” He responded after a moment. 

“What if he wanted to stay?” 

“Why would he want to do that?” Wayne loved Eddie, but sometimes the kid was trying. 

“Because that’s the kind of thing people do when they care about you.” 

A look of recognition flashed across Eddie’s face. 

“Jesus Christ, Wayne, we aren’t a couple.” 

“Here I was thinking you’d finally taken some initiative,” Wayne grumbled. 

“I thought you told me to repress my emotions and ignore the shit out of him.” Eddie had a habit of twisting his words. Wayne tried not to begrudge him for it. He was still younger than Wayne ever remembered being. 

“That was before I knew the kid. He wouldn’t have sat on those shitty chairs for six hours every day for anybody. I don’t know what’s going on in his head, but I know you should talk to him.” 

Eddie let out an elongated groan, scrubbed his face, and muttered,

“Maybe you’re right.” 

Steve didn’t know what had brought him back to Eddie’s hospital room the following day, call it intuition or the inability to take a hint. He had the common decency to linger in the doorway.

“Hey,” Steve spoke, as he caught Eddie’s eye. No turning back now. 

Eddie propped himself up in bed and ushered Steve into the room.

“Hey,” He replied, clearing his throat. 

“Wayne told me you stuck around yesterday,” Eddie began. Steve sunk into the chair at Eddie’s bedside. He’d really hoped Wayne would keep that to himself.

“You could’ve stayed if you wanted to, Steve. I wanted you to stay,” Eddie confessed, throwing Steve for a loop. He spoke before he had the chance to think better of it. 

“I thought you kind of hated me. Figured you wanted some peace and quiet.” It was Eddie’s turn to look confused. 

He absentmindedly drummed his fingertips on the railing of the hospital cot, deliberating. 

“What the hell makes you think I don’t like you?”

Steve couldn’t help but snort, looking to the door, planning a quick exit in case Eddie threw him out again.

“Where do I start, dude? You went out of your way to make high school hard for me. Which I get. I know I wasn’t a good person, but you’ve been giving me the cold shoulder ever since. I thought maybe we were getting somewhere but... I guess I was being stupid. It’s kind of my thing.” 

Steve hadn’t meant to sound as self-deprecating as he had, but the words were out there now, hanging heavy in the space between them. It was Eddie’s turn to snort. Steve’s eyes snapped to his hands, suddenly feeling very small. He felt the solid weight of Eddie's palm pressed against his shoulder. 

“You’re not stupid. I don’t hate you, Steve. I really, really don’t hate you. You drive me fucking crazy, which is why I keep avoiding you. I don’t know how to be a normal goddamn person around you.”

“You’re not that normal around anyone,” Steve noted softly, unable to keep the comment to himself. To his surprise, Eddie laughed and squeezed his shoulder.

“I don’t know how to be myself around you.” 

Steve felt lighter, knowing Eddie didn’t hate him, but all the more confused. Eddie liked him, but he’d been trying to avoid him. 

“Why?” Steve pushed. Eddie drew back his hand. 

“Please don’t ask,” Eddie breathed, all of a sudden looking like he could puke. 

Steve remembered having seen the same petrified look once before, on Robin’s face, when the two had been high as hell in a public bathroom. He thought more about Robin, and how she complained about not being able to hang around Vicki. How she rambled. How she couldn’t act like herself. Oh. Okay.

That made sense. 

Steve was hit with a wave of relief, followed by a shock of panic, not because Eddie had a crush on him or that Eddie was a guy. No. Steve suddenly understood why Eddie hating him had gotten under his skin. Why it’d bothered him so much. 

Shit. Steve hadn’t expected to find that out about himself when he’d woken up that morning.   

“Steve? You’ve gotta warn a guy if you’re seeing clocks or something,” Eddie spoke, interrupting his thought process. 

“You have a crush on me,” Steve gaped. He’d never been one for tact. 

He watched all the colour drain from Eddie’s face. There was no way he’d expected Steve to pick up on it. It was Eddie’s turn to shift his eyes to his hands. 

“Sorry,” he breathed, after a moment. That didn’t sit right with Steve at all. 

He leaned forward and tentatively rested his hand on Eddie’s, surprising himself as much as he surprised the other boy.

“Don’t be sorry,” He spoke, squeezing Eddie’s hand. Eddie sat gaping at Steve for a moment.

“You seeing clocks?” Steve asked, shooting Eddie a shy smirk. That’s all it took to get the boy breathing again. 

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie huffed and rested his head on top of their intertwined hands. 

“You don’t hate me,” He whispered. 

“I really, really don’t hate you,” Steve confirmed with a soft smile, resting his head beside Eddie’s, shyly leaning closer, placing a chased kiss on the boy’s cheek. 

[blueskittlesart]

what do you think his thoughts were at that moment?

this is an insane question and i am going rabid trying to answer it. for context this is about my. link dead on the fucking floor compilation. i. e. "what do you think went through link's mind as he all but DIED in precalamity botw."

i've thought about this before because. well obviously i have. look at how many times i've drawn it. i think context matters more than anything when examining that moment, because it's essentially the culmination of link's entire life up to that point in the worst way possible. you have a kid who has been raised to either win or die. those are his only two options. he's known this for basically as long as he can remember. either he defeats the calamity like he's supposed to and lives the rest of his life as an untouchable gold standard of soldier, as proof that all that pressure and pain he suffered worked, or he dies and dooms everyone he has ever loved to suffer horribly for the rest of their likely very short lives. And i do think he thought about this extensively, because how could you NOT, and i think that he probably believed that death was the most likely outcome. He was raised by a soldier, around soldiers, to be a soldier. soldiers are practical. soldiers strategize for the most likely scenario. they're not pessimistic, but they know how to look at a situation objectively and make a judgement call. Looking at link's situation objectively, it would have been obvious that he couldn't win. he was one kid, a 16-year-old boy, with maybe some above-average swordsmanship skills, but too many variables were missing. he couldn't hear the sword's voice. zelda's power wouldn't manifest. Hylia, who should have been there guiding them through this prophecy that SHE had supposedly inflicted on them, was completely silent. the divine beasts may have given him some hope, initially, but it was clear below the optimistic facade that hyrule was toying with very dangerous forces they didn't truly understand. I think he very likely went into that confrontation with the calamity anticipating death.

what's most interesting to me about the scene of link's death isn't that he fell, but WHERE he fell. because he didn't die in the sanctum, at the scene of the calamity's birth, as one might have expected. he died in an empty field along the road to a fortress that might have been able to protect him. Link, the bearer of the triforce of courage, the boy raised to die a martyr at the hands of the calamity, who had all but accepted his fate before the monster even showed its face, chose to run for safety, what some might call the coward's approach, instead of dying where he stood at ganon's hand. and it seems almost out of character at first, when you think about the person he was when he first met zelda, the person who would do anything in his power to show no weakness, to take the pain and the stress without flinching or faltering. the boy who so completely embodied that idea of "courage." but i think that zelda was the piece that changed him. If it had just been him at that final confrontation, maybe he wouldn't have run. maybe he would have been content to take his final stand and accept the death he'd been promised. but zelda insisted on being there, too. "there must be something i can do to help." and while link was a soldier, more than willing to engage in self-sacrifice, he was also a knight, sworn to protect this girl, and so he couldn't in good conscience sacrifice HER, too. so he ran. he tried to live, at a moment when he should have expected to die. and i think that was infinitely more courageous of him. to go against everything you have ever known and expected is infinitely scarier than accepting the outcome you've always anticipated. Running for his life (and for zelda's) was running into the unknown. escaping death in that way was defying everything he'd built himself up to be, everything everyone expected of him. Who is link if not the hero who faced the calamity with courage? what would he have to be if he could not be what was expected of him? in that moment, he made the choice to step into the unprophesized timeline, into a world where his actions were no longer defined by some great all-seeing power. and that was the most courageous move he could have made in that moment. he must have been terrified.

so what was going through his mind as he made his last stand? Honestly, i think the only thing on his mind was zelda. I don't think he cared about himself, his physical condition, any of it. I think he made the choice to run because of zelda and so he made the choice to take his final stand where he did because of her, too. just before zelda's power manifests, we see him try to continue fighting even inches from death, so gravely injured that he's unsteady on his feet, using his sword to keep himself standing. i think he must have known that he was in no condition to fight anymore, but he expected death to come for him at one point or another. what mattered was that she might live as long as he kept going. that's why he ran in the first place. not for himself, but because zelda was there and zelda didn't deserve to die like this. Even once zelda's power manifests, link only gives up and allows himself to fall once a beat or two has past--once he's sure that there really is no more danger. that she'll be okay, that she can make it past the fort and into relative safety even if he lets go here. He collapses then, and only then, after running miles through fields and woods, already gravely wounded, because in that moment he sees that the danger has past. a soldier's work is only done when there is nothing left to fight. a knight's work is only done when his princess is truly safe.

maybe he was relieved that he'd managed to hold on as long as he had. that he'd been able to find her some form of safety, in one way or another. maybe he worried about what manner of things would come for her once he was gone. maybe he wondered why she wouldn't just leave him and run for the fort. i'm sure there was a flash of regret in the back of his mind, for the family and friends he'd leave behind, for the people he'd let down, for the calamity he wasn't able to defeat. but this was the outcome he'd expected, even if it had come in a slightly different form. Even if now there was a girl hovering above him begging him to open his eyes.

[remember-digimon]

Good ol' reliable Joe!

When I first watched Digimon back in the 2000s, Joe was the character I related to the least. Now, as a big grown up in my late 30s, I finally understand what Joe is all about.

At first glance, Joe is anxiety incarnate. In the dub, he gets the 'nerd' trope that Izzy avoided for the most part. Joe is always allergic to things, worried about the slightest danger, and constantly trying to be the voice of reason. His 'voice of reason' however is more 'voice of general complaints and worry.'

If I recall correctly, in the original Japanese, Joe is like this because he's the oldest, at 12 years old. He feels it's his responsibility to make sure everyone is safe since he's the upperclassmen in this situation. In the dub, he's just a worrywort.

Joe takes on responsibility that he could easily delegate to other kids. In the episode where Gomamon evolves into Ikkakumon, Joe tries to break up an argument between Tai and Matt about climbing a mountain, only managing to get drawn into the argument himself. Later, he decides that he should climb up the mountain on his own as a compromise. He doesn't even bring Gomamon with him; Gomamon tags along anyway, of course, but initially Joe intended to go by himself.

He shows initiative, that's for sure. At least when the pressure is on. Others have noted that Tai, Sora, and Joe are the action-takers while Matt and Izzy act more defensively with Mimi, Tk, and later, Kari in mind. I like this thought, especially for Joe. He is often stumbling into danger out of his need to be the 'adult' of the group, feeling responsible for everyone's safety.

One thing we should discuss is his crest. I want to go more in depth on the crests on a different post, but here I think we need to talk about Joe's crest being changed for the dub. Originally it was the crest of faith.

Honestly, I do think reliability fits Joe a lot better. It is awkward for that to be a trait of a child (Remember, their crests were developed back during the original Digimon Adventure OVA, when Greymon fights Parrotmon). But I do think he exemplifies being reliable, because it's the right thing to do.

Conversely, Joe doesn't really expect others to help him. He wants to be relied on, but doesn't want to rely on others. He saves TK from drowning in the bay without thinking of his own safety.

Joe is also the studious member of the group. At one point, while they're temporarily back in Odaiba, Joe takes a practice test and fails it. This causes him a lot of anxiety. It feeds into the situation at home, which is another point I'll get into shortly.

In Our War Game, Joe is unreachable because he's taking an entrance exam. He's in a panic the whole time, showing how important it is that he does well. No doubt he's one of those cram school kids.

As for his family, we do meet his older brother Jim, but not his parents. In fact, Joe's parents are the only ones we don't meet out of the original 8. We do hear a lot about his dad, though, who has high expectations of his sons. Mr Kido wants both of his sons to be doctors like him, and on his terms, too. Jim says he wants to go to less developed countries to practice medicine, and that their father doesn't approve.

Jim also doesn't seem to have much faith in Joe becoming a doctor due to his high anxiety, and the fact that he faints at the sight of blood. Joe seems apprehensive about it himself, even though he does eventually go into med school and become a doctor.

To me, Joe's story is one of perseverance. When he's working off his debt in the diner, he fully expects to work there until it's paid off and is genuinely surprised that Matt would offer to help. When his test scores fall, he resolves to work harder. Even though he doesn't like the idea much at first he does eventually become a doctor. I can see how the original script would give him the crest of faith with all that in mind, but I still think reliability fits him better. He doesn't just have faith that things will work out, he's proactive in making sure they work out. Even if he's a little clumsy about it.

[keouil]

down must fall the sky

in hell, they leave the love in. it’s important to remember that, thinks mincheol, on the bed of a girl he’s known barely a year with the same color palette as haesoo but not quite: the love was there. it was always there. it’s the life part they screwed up just a touch. 1k. haesoo/mincheol. also on ao3.

You are shaking fists & trembling teeth. I know: You did not mean to be cruel. That does not mean you were kind. Sometimes, I think you forget. I am not God. I do not forgive.

VENETTA OCTAVIA

Maybe my life is trying to tell me something. These days, I want to wander, But the past still needs me. How could I ever leave?

HUA XI

花

In hell, they leave the love in.

It’s important to remember that, thinks Mincheol, on the bed of a girl he’s known barely a year with the same color palette as Haesoo but not quite: The love was there. It was always there. It’s the life part they screwed up just a touch.

⊹

Mincheol first meets Haesoo under the awning of a bus stop. 

It’s raining, the first pour they’ve had all summer, and when you live in the slums of Seoul with practically no heat management system in place: you take your victories and spin them into gold. He jogs down the stone steps, yells out a Sell well, halmeoni! to the pajeon seller who always goes door to door first thing in the morning, and helps out a policeman wrangle a few kindergarten kids to safety on the pedestrian lane. There was a community here, thinks Mincheol, the same way ragtag people find themselves gravitating towards each other and making the most of what life hands to them at the bottom of the barrel.

Mincheol bumps into her on the way down the steps to the bus stop, milk bread in his mouth and spun silk in her hair. 

“Oh,” he says, and then: “Hello.”

⊹

She was beautiful, by the gods she always was; but even more so, thought Mincheol then, her heart. She was quiet in her kindness, and kept to herself in class where he was great and grand and loud. The sort of beautiful to write home about, the way her eyes lit up just a fraction when they went flower viewing in spring; or the elegant slope of her neck that had his heart stopping when she bent down to pick one up; or the almost hesitant, almost shy way she offered up the tiniest smile along with the dandelion she presented to him: heart on her sleeve and longing lodged in his throat.

Haesoo was the kind of beautiful you marry young.

The one you make a life partner out of. The one that when both of you stroll past the streets of Myeongdong, will have people stop for a second, and re-assess and double back: because yes, Mincheol had been there himself: She is real and she is mine. There are great, grand, loud things he has planned for them: a penthouse suite overlooking the Han River, a vacation house in Jeju they can summer in, the whole world on a platter, it seemed, if she asked; and by the gods, he was going to give that all to her.

⊹

They go to the same college. Mincheol takes up an internship at a multinational company and complains of long days of being a glorified errand boy, but Haesoo, Haesoo: in the little rundown apartment by Ilsan they pay way too much for way too little, always managed to assemble a few loose ingredients to make sundubu jiggae and arrange them in a fashion like a king’s meal long before he even gets to toe his shoes off. Haesoo who turns to him in the doorway and says with so much delicacy, so much honesty, so much heart: “Mincheol-ah,” and then, “Welcome home”, and then, “You worked hard”; that always has his heart racing, years after and long after.

I love you, he would always say back. I love you and I want us both to eat well.

⊹

When they lie in bed at night on the futon passed down to them by Mincheol’s parents, the one that was hard on the back and had him offering up his pillow to her instead: he’d turn to her, quiet in the night, with a voice as soft as liquid silk: I’m going to take care of you. 

⊹

The love was there. It was always there.

It was never a problem until it became the problem.

⊹

Mincheol marries Haesoo to no fanfare: There, the girl at the legal office said as she slid the papers their way, It’s done. Mincheol could only look on in equal parts awe and dumbstruckness at the tangible evidence of the very real thing they just did that was going to impact their lives now in a very real way. Haesoo, though, when she lifts her head to look at him: It’s done? she asks, still so timid and lovely and soft, Are we really—

And Mincheol heaves her up in his arms, smothers her with kisses and even more declarations of his love, all the way until they reach the expensive yakiniku place they have no money to spend on but decide fuck all because:

“Yes,” says Mincheol, breathless, still just looking at her and not believing she was real and she was his and he was hers and they were standing at the edge of the world or staring down at it, daring it to bite back. “We’re really.”

⊹

The mortgage on their first home is bleeding both of them dry, but they’re married and young and excited to do life with each other. It’s imperfect like how most marriages go, but for the first time in their lives, they have a real shot at making it out of the slums and building the bricks on a life they can slowly start chipping away on.

“When it gets too hard,” whispers Haesoo, brushing a few strands of hair away from his face when they face each other on the bed after Mincheol gets another job rejection the third time that week. “We attack the problem and not each other. Always. Okay?”

Mincheol tugs her further into him. “Okay,” he says, and then: “Okay.”

⊹

But:

⊹

The world and life, though.

It catches up to you.

It bites back.

⊹

Mincheol starts working overtime. Haesoo takes on more shifts and more part-time jobs. In a moment of pure desperation and Haesoo shivering on the floor because they’re three payments late on electricity, Mincheol tucks her in all the jackets he has and leans down to ghost a kiss on her forehead and tenders all he has left to give: I’m going to take care of you.

He leaves in the middle of the night in nothing but his t-shirt and a number he swore to never call.

⊹

The next day, all their bills are paid.

⊹

The next month, the loan sharks start banging on their door.

⊹

Mincheol tries hiding it all from her, from pretty and sweet and delicate Haesoo; he takes on a few side-hustles, invests in start-ups, even does a little black market trading on the down low. Some of them stick but not enough. 

But the love, thinks Mincheol, it’s still there. 

It’s always going to be there. You don’t brave through the jaws of death growing up poor and not know a thing or two about gratefulness, or feeling tethered to someone you did all that clawing through with. Haesoo is still as beautiful as the day the first drop of rain soaked through her uniform, that had him blushing and pushing his blazer to her chest, that had him flushing and sputtering all throughout his senior year until he finally plucked enough courage to rip out the first button of his uniform and hand it to her, hands shaking, with a smile that was just as shaky: “Will you go out with me?”

She said yes, and damn her for saying yes all those years ago, because now; now Mincheol was indebted. He felt indebted to will the fantasy life he wanted for her, this girl who never asked for anything but deserved so much more than canned tuna for dinner and a husband who always came home late; this girl who took one look at his tired face from a long night and wordlessly took off his jacket and shoes for him, deposited him on their banged up couch, and started quietly working out the kinks in his muscles; this girl with the face, as soft as a lily pad, hum lullabies to him when the stress met his dreams and he kept thrashing in bed; who, at her first spun song, his heart will always tender itself to.

He doesn’t deserve her. He knows he doesn’t deserve her. But it’s hard to forget a mouth that loves you, even more so, thinks Mincheol: one that you know has been the only one to ever love you as completely and nakedly as you are. 

⊹

The anger, then. That’s new. 

⊹

Things Haesoo has lied to him about over the years:

“Yes, I already ate.”

“It’s just a bad sprain.”

“I don’t need to go to the hospital.”

“I wasn’t late to work.”

“I don’t need to take a day off.”

“I’m not hungry, you can have the last bite.”

“I’m okay.”

⊹

So when the bills are piling up and loan sharks are barking down your door and your wife is crying herself to sleep every night, thinks Mincheol, bitterly: This is marriage.

But how could he direct all that hatred to her, on stable and supportive and enduring Haesoo? Who has only ever known to be there for him when times were rough and especially then when they weren’t? She’s become too trusting of him. She’s become too dependent on the stability of their love that she thought would have survived anything. He couldn’t fault her for that. He couldn’t get mad at her for believing in life when he’d gone through hell and back to shield its ugliest parts from her.

⊹

So he punishes himself instead.

⊹

When a young brunette co-worker invites him out for drinks the next week, he only hesitates just the second before saying yes.