#resurface fic

[idontknowreallywhy]

Resurface 33 - Restless

What went before - Tumblr / AO3

Previous chapter

It’s fine it’s fine it’s fine.

ALL FINE.

Honest?

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The first time Scott listened, thirteen people died.

John was waiting in the lounge.

He often did after the more disastrous mission failures. It was good for them to be all together at those times. Physically together.

Scott knew this.

Scott himself had strongly encouraged it in the past. So strongly, in fact, nobody needed to suggest it now - John would just appear and when Scott got back upstairs from the hangar, John would have made them both a coffee and he would sit and watch Scott pace the floor and not much would be said but they’d be together. And together they’d wait for Virgil, the Tinies, Kayo… for everyone to be back before events were discussed.

But Scott didn’t want to see John.

And he definitely didn’t want to see Virgil who was chasing him home as fast as his unopened cargo ship could travel. So he skipped the shower, changed straight into his running gear and headed out via Two’s hangar entrance before the green behemoth was even within sight of the island.

A beast of a storm was brewing, but he could get a couple of laps in before it landed.

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Virgil didn’t need to look at the barometer read outs. The colour of the clouds and the niggling pressure in his head told him everything he needed to know as soon as he approached the Kermadec Ridge.

It was going to be a doozy. The kind of storm where it seemed the very sky would crash down upon the trembling Earth below and all the Earth could do was absorb the fury and wait… and hope… for it to pass.

Virgil knew how it felt.

“Scott’s not here?”

“Running.”

“Ah. Did he say…”

“He didn’t come up.”

“Oh.” Virgil eyed the large blue cup of stone-cold coffee on the countertop then picked it up and drained it in one. “Right.”

“I’ll make you a fresh cup.”

“Thanks, but it’s fine. I had one in Two.”

John raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at the empty mug Virgil still clutched.

Virgil looked down at it.

“Oh… well… we can’t leave it sat there to… to fester… and it seemed a waste to just...” he gestured vaguely with the mug by way of sentence completion before striding over to rinse it in the sink. A quick wipe with the tea towel and he placed it back in its spot by the coffee machine. Next to the green one.

Frowning slightly, he bent down to buff a watermark from the handle. Then glanced back at the man observing him from his perch at the breakfast bar.

John had his concerned face on.

“I’m alright, John.”

“Sure you are.”

The air was so thick Virgil felt he was swimming through it. He massaged his temples. Come on weather, just break already.

“I need to show you something.” John tapped at something on his tablet and brought up a schematic of the scandium mine.

Former scandium mine.

“Can this wait? We should wait for Scott.”

“You need to know you made the right call.”

Virgil lifted his fingers, one at a time, from the counter top and noted the sensation as each set of ligaments stretched. Maybe he should play a little piano, take his mind off things…

“Virgil.”

“I do. I know I did. It was too risky. But I’m not the one needs convincing, John. He’s never going to forgive me…”

“Virgil!”

He looked up at his brother who swiped through a series of animations modelling l the sudden shift in the underlying geology that had caused the mine to entirely collapse in on itself in the space of less than seven seconds.

“If you hadn’t stopped him he’d be gone. There was no way out of there, no time for a warning. 100% certainty.”

Virgil wasn’t sure how this was meant to help. He’d already pictured it a thousand times on the agonisingly long journey home - the dark tunnel disappearing with his best friend inside. Over and over. He’d felt his own ribcage cave under the pressure of those rocks as he lost hope...

“They aren’t even contemplating any attempt to recover the…”

“Enough.”

John paused then conceded with a slight inclination of the head. Virgil gave a small smile of gratitude and went to observe the gathering storm from the balcony doors.

“Virgil?”

A breath. He tugged on the lever to open the vents, to get some damn air in the room. If anything the outside air was even more soup-like but now they could hear the faint rumbling in the distance. It was coming.

“Yes, John?” He knew his voice was higher pitched, tighter than usual and he also knew John would see that for the warning sign it was, because John did the same and both brothers knew each other well enough to know when they needed each other to leave well enough alone.

Which made it particularly surprising that he walked right over to where Virgil stood and spoke again.

“I don’t know what you said to him, but whatever it was… thank you.”

Virgil didn’t answer, he was watching the palm trees bend and sway in the gusting wind. John slipped his hand into Virgil’s and they stood together as with the sound of a thousand needles the clouds finally burst and rain hammered against the glass, blurring the trees to grey.

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Next chapter

[intertexts]

sliding in a day late but here's my piece for the minibang!!! had the delight of illustrating for @warpcorp's i want to hold her so badly i could die & now i need to finish the suckening asap.

[oneluckydragon]

got hit with the echo+sora brainrot so i am once more rambling in your askbox about it. because reasons.

anywho i think there is something truly saddening about echo's struggles to make peace within herself and how she truly finds it hard to find that peace when she is so certain that if the truth about her origins were to be revealed to the world, much less to *sora*, everything she achieved, everything she worked for, all of which matters to her most, will crumble away in a moment's notice.

but the fear of losing all your life's work is none compared to the fear of losing sora. the feeling of poison that settled itself within themselves and between each other out of fear and tragedy of what had happened to them is familiar. echo's resemblance to dusknoir was already enough to set the two off because of how much it had all hurt to see someone you love and yourself turn into a mockery and a splitting image of someone who had pretended to care yet showed he never did at all, but this poison is louder. it hurts to bare, to carry, and to have none but yourself to be its sole holder.

but this poison, this feeling of heartache is different. because whereas the previous pain was something both of them felt, sora was lucky enough to not have known the truth about the person who she cares for so dearly.

echo knows that she used to be darkrai. and it haunts her to have known that her previous incarnation was so *cruel*, all for the sake of it just feeling right. wishing to engulf an entire world in darkness, solely for whatever desire she used to have.

and for how much she knows, how much she will hammer it into her own head that she is *not* like that anymore, that she looks at her past with sneer and disgust and that she will not be the barer of evil anymore, it will not matter in the slightest when she will have to look at sora if she were to ever find out.

how afraid, angry and dejected she would look when finding out, and how she will go on the defense/offense because of how much this will overwhelm her.

because when echo looks at her own shadow, she sees herself for what she is. she knows what she is, be it out of shame or guilt.

but when sora will look at it, she will see a tall, contorting and menacing shadow, towering over with a bright cyan eye doing nothing but looking at her, as if tempting her to make the next move.

and she defends herself. from someone she knows will not harm her. she raises her arms up in self defense from a hand that would never hurt her more than the world has already did.

she knows echo will not hurt her. and thats why she is afraid.

Oh my oh my OH MY, Sinnoh!!! YES YES YES!

HOW!!! IN THE WORLD!!! Are you so good at crawling into my head and creating these vivid analysis/snippets on my OCs??? I've barely shared ANY information about Echo and Sora because I've been wanting to hoard most of my stuff for when my fic is finally finished... but... I think you've broken my resolve a bit, if I'm entirely honest.

You know what? I'm so inspired by your accuracy and eagerness to talk about my girls that I'm gonna forgo my crippling anxiety regarding my writing skills and instead post a snippet of my WIP fic here as a treat for you. A teaser, if you will. Since I have no idea when the fic in question will actually be done and ready (or when I will be satisfied with it, cause the thing is currently 36,000 words and still slowly climbing). And now you've got me eager to share SOMETHING of my fic with you and anyone that might want to take a peek at it.

Please enjoy this conversation between Dusknoir and Echo. The topic deals a lot with what you'd described up above!! c:

[Note: this is an unedited part of my fic because I am still in the process of writing and it may change in the future, so please be gentle w/ me but I'd love to read any thoughts/comments that pop up while reading!! pls send asks or replies or anything really cause I love you guys]

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“I’m going to tell you something now, and you are going to listen.” Echo commands with a sharp bite in her voice that Dusknoir cannot fathom ignoring. He pauses and then offers a slow nod, waiting, wondering what she could possibly desire to tell him at a time like this, of all things.

Minutes pass as Echo remains rooted in place, still as her own shadow, and her eyes dart around as she stares at the patches of dry grass and sand beneath her paws. Her claws clench and unclench, digging into the earth like daggers as the wind of the forest (it’s trees so close, just behind them, a looming sort of presence that could engulf them whole) whistles through the surrounding branches, carrying stray leaves of many bright greens through the chilling breeze. Dusknoir watches them dance around Echo, twirling, floating down, down, down… but it’s quiet, too quiet, and Dusknoir feels a shiver pass through him when Echo’s voice finally rings out through the silence.

"When I evolved, Sora was petrified," She says, nearly a whisper, an admission that melts away her confidence and appears to bring her a flood of both shame and regret. Her face twists up then, strangely, like she’d felt a twinge of pain from somewhere deep inside the very fabric of her own soul and was unable to quell it. "She couldn’t even bring herself to look at me most days. At first, my appearance… well, it reminded her too much of you. And eventually of someone I used to be.”

Someone I used to be. At that, Dusknoir’s immediate reaction is to recall Echo’s previous life as a human, as the miserable shell of a creature surviving alongside Grovyle that he’d relentlessly hunted in the dark future. A human made of contempt and anger and apathy, who never smiled or laughed or cried or screamed like the old legends said humans would-- an entity that simply existed rather than lived. An echo of a life long dead and buried. But, judging by her tone, by her voice, by some uneasy intuition itching in the back of his mind like a swarm of pestilent Ninjask… he knows that she means something else entirely. Something that she isn’t willing to share. And frankly, that concept utterly terrifies him.

Someone I used to be. Dusknoir wants to speak, to break his own silence, wants to ask the myriad of questions bubbling up in his throat because this isn't the first time she's hinted at another life beyond being human, but those questions die at the source like a flame doused in water. And always the coward, coward, coward, instead he takes the easy way out by doing nothing at all. Whether Echo notices his surge of inner conflict or not-- the nervous wring of his hands and the tremble in his spine that he cannot control under her gaze-- she does not react.

“I’d take a step and Sora would flinch away.” Echo confesses, her markings flickering with light before going dark and dead, as if her body wished to snuff them out entirely, a deep seated rejection, a self-loathing so strong that Dusknoir cannot help but recognize it and empathize, and his heart aches, “It took ages for her to stop shaking when I’d speak. To stop looking at me like-- like I was going to…” 

Echo grimaces like she’s enduring waves of grueling torture and doesn’t finish that string of thought, but it’s not hard to make an educated guess on what went unsaid. Like I was going to betray her. Hurt her. Break her heart. She’s been through so much already and I couldn’t bear to be another influence in the history of her suffering. I hate myself because of how I made her feel. When her eyes went wide in fear and through them I could see myself staring back like some sort of burden, some sort of curse.

“I am not my past.” Proud and true, Echo straightens up and holds her head high, a spark igniting in her eyes, a glint of determination, a will to keep going and going despite such circumstances and strife, despite this horrid, unspeakable past that haunts her so, “And I am definitely not you. It’s taken a while, but I know that much now. I’ve accepted it.”

I am not my past. And I am definitely not you.

A sigh, a breath, and Echo glances at him with a certain sorrow that cannot be described, a sorrow that lingers even through the veil of her tenacity, "But no matter how I feel, no matter my conviction, my shadows still find ways through the cracks. Every time I think I'm getting a grip and that I might finally understand myself… I change all over again." She admits, sounding more angry and tired than defeated now-- like a mirror of her old self, her human self that had clawed and damned and cursed him, despised him more than anything. "I hate it. I hate that I never truly know who I am. That I have to learn about my past through stories others tell me, or through fragments of twisted, broken memories that I wouldn't wish on anyone. Through conflict and pain and… and..."

"Echo," Dusknoir murmurs her name softly, an offering, a potential escape if only she would wish to drop the subject and forget this conversation had ever happened-- if she'd overstepped and needed an excuse to back out, a diversion, an understanding. And briefly, Dusknoir wonders why she is opening up about this particular information, why she would delve into something so vulnerable, so personal. Why she would bring up this hurtful history when it obviously brings her great discomfort.

And then, he gets an answer.

“You’re lucky, Dusknoir." There it is, that wildfire burning in her eyes again. A spark that’s new and bold and startling. But lucky? No, never. He'd have to disagree, accounting the mountain of evidence that was his life and regrettable deeds.

"You already know exactly who you are and what you’ve done, and most importantly why. You have more than a tattered picture of yourself that reflects broken answers. And you can change with that knowledge. I see you trying.” She tells him, searching, looking for something so deeply and Dusknoir wishes he knew what it could be so that he could give it to her, because he would, he would gladly give it to her without a second thought if it meant they could be close again. But he isn’t a fool, and he’s wise enough to know they’ll never be like they were before. “And if somehow I could change, even as half-assed as I have. Well, then what’s your excuse?”

You can do it, say her unspoken words, I believe in you.

[soaps-mohawk]

Hey! I love your story so so much and I always look forward to new chapters!

I do have a question though. Is the whole General Shepard cameras thing still is part of the story? I feel like the buildup was so good and then it just disappeared and became unimportant. Like if the guys never find out about it, it's whatever.

I dont mean this as an insult to your writing at all, but I'm just wondering if it's gonna come back at all since it's been so long since it's been thought about by the mc.

Again, I love your work

You'll have to wait and see

[ezralva]

I got another surprise GojoxChoso gift fic from another writer, inspired by my old GoCho fic "Happy Together" !

In which Satoru Gojo pesters Choso, falls in love and gets to go on a date with him.

Rated E, one-shot, fluff and smut, there's a plot twist at the end. Check it out if you like some smexy GojoxChoso in action :)

[grimalkinmessor]

New personality quiz ✨👁️👁️

Apparently I'm a Cosmic Hand. Rad 🖐️

[isatoru]

me every time i am reminded of the fact that my old writing when i first started that is NOT a representation of who i am today in the slightest but is simply a past version of myself that has died for growth is out there reblogged somewhere on tumblr

[alicewritingstories]

Whumptober Prompt Fills Part 10: Failure

~Also on AO3~

No. 29: “I only sink deeper the deeper I think.” | Scented Candle | Troubled Past Resurfacing | “What happened to me?”

Alt 2: Aftermath of Failure (Replacing 16)

Warnings: Discussion of past failure, implied trauma and flashbacks, mention of injury

Central character(s): Time, Wild

The battle was effectively over; even as Time looked around, sword at the ready, the last gold bokoblin fell to a combined attack by Wind and Four, leaking black blood on the ground for a moment before it exploded into smoke. Time sighed and nodded to himself as the others instinctively gathered around the wounded: Wild had been trampled by a lynel as it made its final charge - he'd shot it in the throat just before impact - but was stirring feebly under Sky's hands. Warriors was pulling an arrow out of Hyrule's shoulder while Legend held him down, telling him firmly that he was to accept healing for himself before going to check on Wild and that squirming was just making the wound larger. They all had the usual collection of cuts and bruises, but overall had got off lightly apart from those two.

"I'm going to check there are no more lying in wait," he called.

Twilight had joined Sky kneeling over Wild and was uncorking a potion, but he looked up and nodded. Four and Wind also looked round from hovering between their injured brothers and Four hurried to a ruined wall to climb up it and get a good vantage point. Wind stayed where he was, looking around carefully, his sword still in his hand.

Time smiled proudly and set off.

The battle had taken them into the edges of Wild's Castletown: a sad collection of ruins that, unlike other ruins in Wild's Hyrule, had not been taken over by nature. Only a few green shoots were starting to sprout between cracked stones and the shadow of the deserted castle fell ominously over everything. Once Time had turned a few corners away from where his boys were recovering from the battle, it was mournfully quiet.

Familiarly so.

As Time looked around the ruins of Castletown, destroyed by Ganon while its hero was deep in a magical sleep, his armor suddenly felt strange. He almost thought he heard Navi's voice in his ear, so clear that it made him look round for her.

In the distance he saw Vah Medoh, resting peacefully on its perch, and that reminded him that he was in Wild's Hyrule, not his own. That he was a grown man, no longer a child suddenly thrust into a teenager's body.

He shook his head hard and hastily continued his patrol, just watching for movements and trying not to look too hard at the empty, roofless houses marked with scorch marks.

He couldn't get back to the others too soon.

They had set up camp a little way further from the town and both Wild and Hyrule had been healed. Time smiled and spoke to them in something close to a daze, ate dinner without really being aware of what he was putting in his mouth, brushed off concerned questions, and went to sit on a rock overlooking the town. He knew it was a bad idea. He knew sitting and looking at a standing reminder of the moments after he had left the Temple of Time wouldn't help anything, but he felt drawn to it despite himself.

With a sigh, he picked up his ocarina - not the Ocarina of Time, but his own - and started playing it softly, settling into Zelda's Lullaby to stop himself drifting to the Song of Time.

"Time?"

He startled and looked up as Wild came and crouched down on the rock next to him, balanced on the balls of his feet. The champion nodded a greeting to him, then looked out over the ruins with a sigh.

"How are you feeling?" Time asked softly.

"Still bruised, but barely worth mentioning." Wild shifted to sit down normally and rested his elbows on his knees. After a long moment he said softly, "I hate coming here."

Time looked round at him again.

"I don't remember it except ruined and full of Malice and guardians. I've been back with Zelda a few times - she has big plans to rebuild - and she tries to tell me what it was like before, but…" Wild shook his head.

"What does she say?" asked Time, curious and glad of the distraction.

Wild shrugged. "Busy. Colorful. It sounds like it was a lot like your Castletown, actually."

Time looked back at the ruins. "Yes. It does remind me of my Castletown."

He could almost feel Wild's stare, but wasn't sure how to elaborate.

"I suppose… the fountain is in the same place? Relative to the castle?" ventured Wild.

Time sighed, shaking his head. "Sorry, it's… difficult to talk about. You remember I told you that when I took on Ganon the kingdom was already in ruins?"

Wild nodded.

"Well… Before that happened, the sword made me sleep for seven years while Ganon triumphed. When I emerged…" Time gestured to the maze of crumbling stones in front of them and the dark mass beyond it. "This was what I found."

Wild looked back at the ruins. "How many times did you defeat him? Ganon, I mean?"

"I hardly know the answer to that myself any more."

"But he never defeated you. Well…" Wild's eyes flicked back towards the camp, where a sudden peal of Legend's laughter had just rung out. "I see why you don't like talking about it. Just thinking about it makes my head hurt."

Time chuckled. "Indeed. But to respond to what you're really saying, I did fail. I was a child and I couldn't stop Ganon and that's why I was forced to sleep for seven years until I was taller and stronger, but in the meantime Zelda and the people of Hyrule saw Ganon rise and suffered under his rule and when I emerged from my sleep a thriving town was a deserted ruin." He glanced at Wild and patted his shoulder. "Seven years, a hundred years, and it comes to the same thing in the end."

Wild scowled. "I wasn't a child, though. I just… I don't even remember what happened. Just a couple of moments that tell me we ran." He picked up a small stone and threw it morosely to rattle down the slope towards an empty street. "I don't know why. I don't know what I saw or what I tried to do or if I even tried anything to fight. You did, I assume."

Time remembered Ganon looming over him and laughing as he lay on the ground, a helpless child not even worth killing. "Oh, yes, I tried. But even if I might not recognise Princess Zelda's Appointed Knight, I know the Hero of the Wild and I can't imagine he was all that different. I can't imagine you didn't even try."

Wild made a noise halfway to a bitter laugh.

Time laid a hand on his shoulder and said softly, "It's OK, Wild."

Wild shook his head.

"Wild. It's OK."

Wild shook his head again, but this time he leaned a little closer and let Time wrap an arm around his shoulder. After a moment, he relaxed his head onto Time's shoulder.

"It's OK," said Time again, resting his cheek on the top of Wild's head. The silence stretched as they looked out over the ruins, but Time felt better. His Castletown and his Hyrule thrived. This one was as scarred and weary as its hero, but Wild was healing. One day his Hyrule would do the same.

[chaoticly-shy-dragon]

The two creatures in my ears are arguing: in the end neither wins.

aka

Should I write a 5+1 fic where Edwin and Charles swap surnames and nobody comments on it (and one time someone did) or the angsty fic where Charles is dragged to Hell alongside Edwin in episode 6 sans the notebook or his bag?

Highlights of both are:

• reversal to form of death due to distress

• inter- and codependency galore - Edwin will try to use magic from memory to different levels of success, Charles will fistfight a doll (or a thousand): neither can think straight (in more way than one) without the other safely tucked away by their side

• old married couple on acid (yes even in hell)

• Niko and Crystal will feature as deus ex machinas on earth that will never reach hell - in different ways for the two fics tho

• Charles being just as good of a detective as Edwin - also being two cm shorter than him

• their dance parties aka the intro. I will figure out a way for Edwin to dance like that. I will

• the idea that haunts me: part of Edwin's disdain for the Cat King's shtick is that he was more than once caught in Lust - the only times he was glad the babydoll demon caught him when he did - touch aversion due to even more trauma - I like traumatizing my characters

• Charles and Edwin regularly go on walks and trips around the country - festivals, events, landmarks - I definitely have to look up so many British things

[frobby]

i need to heal my inner child blue exorcist fan that read 1 million evil yukio fanfics by writing 1 million evil rin fanfics

[clintbartonruinedmylife]

Whumptober 2023 - Day 29

"Troubled past resurfacing"

For a while Clint was happy. He had found a man he loved and who loved him, he had married said man, he had a good job he liked, he had friends and a life. Everything was good. Until one fucking Friday afternoon. 

Clint was just coming home from his job as a carpenter. He parked his bike in the driveway when he noticed a car opposite of the house he lived in with Bucky. He looked at the car for a very long moment before he walked up to the entrance door, unlocked it and went in. He saw Bucky’s shoes lying beside the door and a smile appeared on his lips. He was home already. 

“Babe, I’m home,” he called, the smile broadening. 

But when Bucky didn’t answer his smile vanished. 

“Babe?” he called. “Bucky?” 

He went from the living room to the kitchen and there he paled immediately. 

“Hello, Clint,” he heard a voice had hoped to never hear again. The man stood beside a chair and held a gun in his hand, aimed it at Bucky’s head who was tied to said chair. His arms behind his back, his feet to the legs of the chair and he was gagged. His eyes widened, when the man  said Clint’s name. Two more men were sitting on the other chairs at the table, drinking coffee and smirking at him. 

“Barney,” Clint said. “Jacques, Buck.” It’s been more than fifteen years since he’s seen them the last time and he had hoped to never see them again. 

“Oh, you still know who I am,” Barney grinned. “I’m honored,” he said and placed his empty hand on his chest. 

“Are you okay, babe?” Clint said, ignoring his big brother. Bucky was pale but he half nodded, half shrugged. 

“So, you’re still taking it up the ass?” Barney asked and pressed his gun against Bucky’s temple. 

“Fuck you,” Clint snapped back. “Why are you here? What do you want?” 

“We need you and your special talent,” Jacques said and pointed at him, Clint. “And he,” he pointed at Bucky, “will make sure that you do what we want.” 

“I’ve told you I don’t want to do this anymore, Barney,” Clint said. 

Barney raised a brow and pressed the muzzle of his gun harder against Bucky’s temple. 

“Do you want him to live?” he said and Clint gritted his teeth. 

“Stop! Don’t hurt him,” he whispered. 

“Depends on what you do, little brother,” Barney grinned and Bucky’s eyes wet wide. 

Clint threw a glare in his direction but then he went to Bucky, hunkered down beside him and put a hand on his cheek. 

“I’m so sorry, babe, that you have to find out this way. But I’m gonna explain everything to you when this is over. I promise.” 

“Come on, get up. Buck will stay with your boyfriend and we…” 

“Husband,” Clint said and glared at his brother. Barney cocked his head, grinned and patted his shoulder. 

“Congrats! But now we have a job to do and Buck will take care that you do what we want you to do.” 

“If you hurt him,” Clint growled. “If you so much as harm a hair on his head, I will kill you. All of you!” 

He kissed Bucky despite the gag in his mouth and rose. “Let’s get this over with!”

[idontknowreallywhy]

Resurface 32 - Resolve

Story so far

Another long one… what can I say, once I actually got the two of them talking everything just… resurfaces 😏

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“Scott? What’s wrong? What did I say?”

“It’s nothing. We should probably head back.”

“No. No, we clearly need to talk about this.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not! You’re been like this since… You need to tell me what happened! What did I do? Scott? What did I say?”

Scott looked pained. Virgil’s heart sank a little further.

“It’s fine. It doesn’t matter. You weren’t… well.”

“And yet despite that you clearly aren’t able to shrug it off as hallucinogenic nonsense? Whatever it was has clearly been bothering you, Scott.”

His brother looked as if he were about to respond but then spun on his heel and walked the few metres down to the shoreline and stood for a moment staring at the horizon, before kicking a large pebble into the path of a wave.

The resolved look on Scott’s face as he turned back had Virgil bracing himself but then it dissolved into doubt and his brother couldn’t meet his eye.

“Just tell me Scooter. Please? I really really need to know.”

Scott crouched to pick up a small shell and turned it over in his fingers. His voice was small, uncertain and directed somewhere in the region of Virgil’s ankles.

“You were… angry.”

Virgil’s memory of the first few days of his illness was… patchy at best. Mostly grey fluffy confusion, there but not there. Like hearing dialogue of a film from behind several closed doors. There were a few moments of bright, highly saturated emotions but bigger areas of deep overwhelming darkness. He thought he could remember being angry, the sense of losing hold of his calm… but when he tried to recall why the reason slid sideways and he hit one of the dark spots. All he had was the impression he was being held back from something he needed. But it was so faint it could have been a distant childhood memory.

“I didn’t hurt someone??” He didn’t say the word ‘again’ but his mind shouted it at him.

“No! No, we were all fine.” Scott sprang to his feet as the need to reassure obviously kicked in but hesitated midway through reaching out to catch Virgil’s arm. Somehow that restraint hurt more than anything else.

Virgil squared his shoulders. “But I tried to hurt someone… didn’t I?”

“You… you may have tried to push me down a cliff”

“Oh. Oh Scott… I’m so sorry…”

“It’s alright, you missed, ha. We had to catch you in the end, you weren’t very coordinated and um... Yeah it was all fine. And err… well. It was clear you thought I was… someone else.”

Blurry pieces drifted together and seemed to snap into place as if magnetised.

Oh. That again.

“I thought you were Dad didn’t I?”

“Um, yeah.”

The irony was definitely painful.

“Ah.”

“I don’t understand Virgil, why do you hate him so much? What did he ever…? Did he…?” Scott closed his eyes and clenched his fists by his side “Did he hurt you? Did he DO something to you or… or the others that I… I should know about? Because you need to tell me if…

“No! Nonono, Scott, not… nothing like that! He didn’t do anything to me! I don’t hate him! It’s just…”

The relief flooding through Scott’s features made the words stick in Virgil’s throat. Was there a way of explaining this that didn’t damage the vision he carried of his idol?

“Then why were you so angry? There was… something in your eyes that… I’ve never seen it before. I’ve never seen you so full of hate, it… I won’t lie, it scared me, Virgil.”

“Look, Scott I don’t hate him. I have never had any desire to hurt him. I don’t really remember what I was thinking…”

“But you don’t look all that surprised?”

Virgil sighed heavily.

“I guess you know what happened last time.”

“I made John tell me what he could, yeah.”

“Then you probably know more than I do. Somehow we never got around to discussing it. But I sometimes get these nightmares that might be related to back then… where I’m trying to save you from falling and Dad is holding me back.”

“That’s why you ended up on the roof that time.”

“Perhaps.”

“But you know Dad would have helped save me? Any of us? That was kind of his thing!”

“Sure he would.”

Scott looked at him appraisingly “But it’s more than that, isn’t it?”

“It’s just that… I just… get frustrated at… how he… uh…”

Virgil realised he was gesticulating at Scott as if he was the problem and hurried to explain before his brother could assume the worst:

“I hated how he treated you! You always just said he pushed you only as hard as you needed to be pushed but you didn’t! You didn’t need it! All that happened was you never felt you were good enough!”

“I… wow, ok. But maybe I wasn’t, Virg? That’s ok! It’s… it’s ok? It’s alright to know you have things to improve, areas to strengthen. Look, you were younger and maybe it’s hard to see fault in your older…”

“NO!”

Scott paused with his mouth half open but Virgil didn’t even notice. Decades of frustration at never being able to win this particular battle in any of its myriad forms surged up like gas hissing from an opened can. Virgil didn’t shout. Virgil was the calm one. But he couldn’t hold the bubbles back anymore - the words overflowed before he realised they were in his head:

“Don’t even think about making this out to be some kind of unthinking hero worship. At least not on MY part - believe me I am well aware of your many faults. They drive me crazy on a daily basis!”

Even before Scott had time to flush with hurt Virgil was regretting he’d let that one slip out.

“I’m sorry. That was unfair. I didn’t mean…”

Scott appeared to skip over the personal slight and interrupted:

“I don’t worship him, Virgil. I know he had his faults. But I think maybe you forget everything he achieved and the least I can do is try to honour that by not screwing it all up now he’s… gone.”

“Do you know how I know he thought you were good enough, Scott?” Virgil interrupted.

“I… he thought I what?

“He told me. Repeatedly.”

Scott looked blank. Uncomprehending. And if that didn’t just sum the whole bloody thing up. The bubbles fizzed at the edges of Virgil’s temper:

“Did you see what Scott just did? Did you hear about Scott? Isn’t he smart? Isn’t he clever? Watch Scott, Virgil, he’ll show you how. Look at Scott, he’s so brave. Just try to be like Scott and you’ll be ok… Stick with Scott, he’ll see you right…”

The fizz subsided a little and Virgil took a breath. He wasn’t convinced Scott was going to do the same without a reminder so he took a side step and nudged him in the ribs with his elbow until his brother gasped and drew in some much needed oxygen. He reached down and took his big brother’s hand again. It wrapped around and squeezed back. They walked in silence like that for a few moments and Virgil suddenly felt 8 years old again, exploring the countryside around the farm, trying to elongate each step to match his big brother’s longer gait and not slow him down. The same sun beat down on them.

The silence broke that illusion though - young Scotty had always been talking at a mile a minute on their walks, either pointing out birds, the tiny rustlings of animals on the move or how that lump of rock looked like a ship and that cloud that looked like a plane and Virgil-did-you-know-there’s-a-way-you-can-solve-rubix-cubes-and-always-get-the-right-answer?

Older Scotty was quiet.

“He didn’t need to tell me any of it. I knew. But he never told YOU did he?”

“Of course he… I mean… I mean, well… he… he was… encouraging?”

“He never told you and you never believed it when I told you and do you know how hard it is to grow up seeing the person you love most in the world not think they deserve it?”

“I… I’m sorry?”

“No. Don’t. Please don’t do that. That’s not… this isn’t about me.”

“It should be - you’re the one who got sick! And you shouldn’t have been worrying about… things like that! About me. I made your life harder by making you worry and that’s on me. And so I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Well, I don’t think it was all his either! He…” His brother’s voice cracked a little and he stared up at the sky. “He was a great man. A good father.”

“Scott listen, I don’t think he was a bad person, I loved him dearly and I think he was doing his best and… maybe there’s a lot of people who thinking being a good parent is all pushing your kid to greater and greater heights but… you deserved better. You deserved to know you were enough. That you always were! That…” Virgil waved wildly with his free hand “… that you would have been more than enough even without ANY of the impressive achievements and you know what? I am furious at him. It makes me so angry that I grew up knowing that and you didn’t. You are more than enough and I am so very sick and tired of him pushing you and pushing you from beyond the grave!”

Scott stopped walking and Virgil’s shoulder jerked a little as his body tried to leave his hand behind in his big brother’s vice grip. He turned back and used the free arm to pull Scott into a hug. Aware that his mouth was now right next to his brothers ear he made sure to moderate his volume, but that meant it was harder to stop his voice shaking.

“Since I was ten and I found you curled up in the hayloft sobbing your heart out because HE couldn’t see how hard you tried, I made it my mission to get you to see how good you are but it feels like I’ve failed over and over and over because no matter what I say, HIS voice is always louder. Just a bit more, just push harder, be more like me.”

He dropped his head onto Scott’s shoulder and drew in a couple of breaths. Then pulled back and looked him in the eye,

“I wish you’d listen to me and not him. The world doesn’t another Jeff Tracy. It needs Scott. We need Scott. I… I need Scott.”

“You still have me. I’m right here!”

“Sometimes there is so much Dad when I look at you that I can’t see Scott anymore. It’s like the part of you that’s you fades to… to…”

“Grey?”

“Yeah…”

Scott sighed heavily.

“But Virg, isn’t that just how I am? It’s always been that way. It was a standing joke as long as I can remember. I’ve always been his mark two haven’t I?”

“Not exactly… you were always a bit like him but a lot more like you. Even after Mom… when you took on so much, you did it your way. Then he… left and… you got more frantic. You were always fast, impulsive but before Dad left us it was different. You were fast and impulsive in your own way but I didn’t spend every mission worrying that this would be the one when I couldn’t catch you if you fell.”

Scott sank down on to the sand.

“And now you do.”

Virgil hummed then dropped down next to him and dipped his head on to his brother’s shoulder.

“I’ve scared you so many times. I’m so sorry.”

He bit back the automatic response that it was ok. It wasn’t. He wasn’t. That had been made abundantly clear.

“What if I don’t know how else to be? All I want to do, all I ever wanted to do is to look after you all and yet somehow I’m just upsetting you… I’m screwing it up so badly it’s making you sick with stress but I don’t know how to fix it!”

The world seemed to go silent around them as Virgil realised this might be a threshold moment - what he said next might be the one chance he had to change things. He straightened up and took hold of Scott’s hand again:

“Could you listen?”

“I am! I’m listening, Virgil, I’m trying! I just don’t know what to…”

“I don’t mean now. I mean out on a rescue”.

“I always listen, I need your expertise, we’re a team! All of us.”

“When I say stop. Will you listen?”

“I…”

“When John says ‘wait’ because he doesn’t know if it’s safe, will you listen?”

“I… I do?”

“You don’t. Whatever voice you’re listening to every time you leap into the unknown, Scott, it isn’t ours. Or John’s. Or Gordon’s. Even Alan and Kayo sometimes…”

“What, so I’m supposed to ignore my own judgment and experience as to my capabilities and prefer a literal child’s opinion?”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

“Then what?”

“I mean those times when even you can’t see a way through… but you dive in anyway and hope? I think you’ve performed so many apparent miracles your default Plan B is now to throw yourself in between and rely on whatever lucky streak has kept you alive to date because that’s what…”

“That’s what Dad would have done.”

“Yeah.”

The sound of the sea intruded again and Virgil counted the waves as he waited.

After the water had hissed back and forth over the sand twelve times, Scott took a deep breath.

“I can do that.”

[thepixelelf]

What did I even do to hwanghyunjinenthusiast

[luosaugury]

I came up with a more detailed backstory for my Warden Rook, and surprisingly, his guilt complements Neve's fear quite well. It's unintentional, which makes me quite proud of myself lol

Details under the cut I guess

Rook had a loving family. His mother, his younger brother (Émile), and an old mabari dog that his mother told him was his father's.

Rook never knew his father, or at least doesn't remember him. He knows his father left them when he was about 3 years old, and his brother was about 1yo. His mother rarely spoke of his father, and as a child Rook noticed and didn't ask, despite not knowing why.

Émile was 8 when his magic manifested. Rook was 10. He cried and trying to fight the Templars to stop them from taking his brother away. Émile was always a gentle child, always following Rook around, a crybaby. Rook refused to believe that his brother could ever be a monster just because he happened to have magic. The Templars treated Rook like an upset child throwing a tantrum and tried to calm him by gently telling Room it was for Emile's own good, that they were also protecting Émile from threats Rook couldn't protect him from, like demon possession, or other people's hatred.

Rook (eventually) believed them. Or at least he tried to.

A year later their mabari dog died during the harshest days of winter, along with any link left to Rook's father.

Rook believed the templars. Some of them were kind. Others less so, but he knew if he worked hard and sent coin, his brother would have an easier life in the Circle. There was never enough for letters, but Rook took comfort in knowing (believing) he helped.

Rook always thought that one day he would earn enough to pay for his brother's release, just like how prisoners would be once they served their terms or paid enough.

Then, when Émile was 18yo, Rook received a letter from the Chantry notifying him of his brother's failing his Harrowing, and "regrettably met his untimely demise."

In his grief, Rook couldn't see that his mother was grieving too. Rook decided to empty his coffer, buy things for his mother, pay the templars to smuggle Emile's ashes out. Then he joined the Grey Warden.

At this decision, his mother stopped talking to him. Rook thought his mother didn't understand that he just wanted to do something good. Being a warden is a noble thing. Why won't she understand?

He spent a few years in the grey wardens, making friends, flirting around without any intention for settling down. He felt free, and with purposes. Maybe Émile would approve of him. Maybe he would even forgive him for failing to be there, to protect him.

He went on a mission for months, and came back to learn the news that his mother had died. The funeral had been weeks ago. She passed away in her sleep.

He returned to his childhood home after years of being away. After years of not talking to his mother. There had not been any clearing up. He found a stack of letters in a box addressed to him.

Except the contents had been water damaged. The letters were illegible. His mother's attempts at communicating with her only son left were for naught. He never learnt what his mother thought of him, of his decision, or if she ever forgave him or understood that he had simply run away.

He wanted to ask her if the reason she was so mad with his decision to join the wardens was because his father had been a warden too, and he'd left because he'd had to go to his Calling, leaving a scar on his mother's heart. He heard stories, rumours of another warden with the same surname as his, but there was never any concrete proof. He wanted to ask if she had been afraid of losing her only son left, but couldn't do anything to stop him.

Rook's guilt and fear, then, is failing to be there for his loved ones when they needed him the most. That he keeps losing people without any chance for last words.

So when he meets Neve, he wants to believe in his own promise too. That he'd always be there for her. This one he doesn't want to lose.

[yume127]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Kingdom Hearts (Video Games) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Roxas & Ventus (Kingdom Hearts), Aqua & Terra & Ventus (Kingdom Hearts) Characters: Ventus (Kingdom Hearts), Roxas (Kingdom Hearts) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Kingdom Hearts III, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Suicidal Thoughts, Self-Worth Issues, Nightmares, discussion of trauma Summary:

It didn’t matter how many times Ventus cried alone in his room, how much he loathed himself, or how bad the memories plaguing him were. No one could see the war going on inside him as he went along his days acting like his normal smiley, bubbly self.

After returning home, Ventus had to deal with the remnants of his forgotten past.

[coelakanths]

having feelings about them