#sorry for venting i just needed to put my thoughts and aching somewhere.

[taiyami]

Maybe it was for the best.

[moemammon]

When I was in High School, my crush and I got into a fight and neither of us were talking to each other. One day I was headed up the stairwell to get to my science class, when I saw them coming up from behind... I don't think they had even noticed me yet considering that they were busy talking to their friend BUT I am slow going up stairs so even if I rushed up the stairs roadrunner style they would have caught up to me, well; the little corner that connects the steps going up to the second floor and the steps heading down to the ground floor had a large open window... and I jumped out, like I literally just jumped out. I didn't even think it through, I just saw the window and my body was like "Yep, IK what to do." I landed on a bush or tree? It's too big to call a bush but too small to call a tree, landed in a squat before my feet gave out and I fall onto my knees and got two large grass stains on my jeans knee part, couldn't walk right either after that landing, I was shaky all day lol but it was a risk well calculated bc the whole thing would have been so awkward. I mean we used to be like BFFS before the rumors began and then they started and we just stopped talking without warning, we couldn't even look at each other. Our science partners, bc we were in groups of four, literally got fed up of our bullshit bc we literally refused to acknowledge the others existence... anyway, I digress...

Anyway, this whole story is a long winded way of me requesting how the brothers would react to an MC that literally just jumps out windows to avoid awkward moments, or to dodge people that want to ask them for favors, or when they straight up want to avoid someone?

And sorry about the large ass message, but thanks for letting me vent

You have a special place in my heart, window-jumping anon. Just uhhhhhhh look down next time okay? Ily

The Demon Brothers react to GN!MC jumping out of a window to avoid an awkward moment

(Mario jumping sound effect)

Lucifer

He approached you after class to ask exactly what you were snickering at your D.D.D. about during class.

Must've been real funny if you weren't listening to your lecture, huh?

"I imagine you've somehow found something worthy of laughing about in Demonology 101?"

You do not have the guts to tell him that you and Mammon were texting back and forth, abusing a new photo editing app to alter pictures of the eldest himself.

I mean, take a wild guess about how he’d react to seeing how big you edited his head to be-

The avatar of pride lets his eyes pierce into you, like he's trying to stare a hole through your blanket of "uh"s and "um"s,

You don't exactly see a way out of this one, but you can NOT let Lucifer see your photo gallery.

So you glance to your left to the open classroom window, and do the only thing you can think of: you jump.

Luckily you're on the ground floor so you??? really didn't have to jump so dramatically. But the fact that you yeeted yourself into a bush JUST to escape has left Lucifer speechless.

Honestly? He so impressed with your dedication that he's not gonna stop you. Besides, he's gonna see you back at home anyway so-

Also thinks you might be hanging around Mammon too much because that 100% seems like a stunt he’d pull.

Mammon

GIVE GOLDIE BACK RIGHT NOW

He KNOWS Lucifer told you to bring the credit card to him, and he demands to know where it's hidden! He's positive you know where it is!

But you don't really though?? You just brought the card to him like you were asked. If anything, you're the victim here!

But Mammon isn't having that. The avatar of greed is circling around you like an angry cat, patting you all over like airport security to see if you've got his beloved card.

"Where is it, huh?! Ya really think you can steal from THE Mammon?! Even if Lucifer told ya to, who do ya think you are?!"

When he has confirmed that you don't in fact have his previous Goldie, he's now cornering you up against a wall.

If looks could kill, you would've exploded into a fine powder

And you feel like your mental strength is about to do just that. So what do you do after you notices the slightest of breezes caress your face?

You jump outta that open window, before Mammon can even finish his "Wh- Oi! What're ya-"

Even though you just face planted into the garden, you're up on your feet and making a mad dash for somewhere that wasn't here.

Mammon lets you run for ten while seconds before he's hopping out after you. You think you can outfox the Great Mammon?! Think again!!!

Levi

You... weren't interested in this movie in the slightest, but you didn't have the heart to tell Levi that. Especially not after he’d begged/harassed you for the past week about watching it with him!

Reluctantly you agreed, and now you were suffering,,,But Levi was ecstatic! This movie was a classic! Sure it was an old one and the acting was a little bad, but you could overlook that if you watched it with your heart, not your eyes!

According to Levi.

You managed to keep your eyes open for the grueling one and a half hour movie, enduring every corny line of bad acting, horrible CGI, and lame sound effects straight out of a 90s super hero movie, and now the hell was finally over...

Or so you though, until Levi followed that up by immediately pulling out a cosplay outfit worn by one of the supporting characters in the show.

Funny how it seemed specifically tailored to your measurements. Even funnier how Levi was looking at you with those damned eyes.

You knew what he wanted without him even having to say it. But one look at the gaudy outfit he presented to you made your heart burn with a sudden indescribable urge.... to escape.

Honestly you caught him so off guard by suddenly getting up and sprinting out of the room, that he makes a sound that's pretty much the noise equivalent of "?!?!?!?!?!?"

He watches you run down to the end of the hall, throw the window open, and fuckin JUMP. Pretty sure he just witnessed your death??

Also this kinda solidified his 'gross otaku' mentality, seeing as you literally jumped out of a window to get out of cosplaying with him. A simple no would've sufficed, MC.......,.,,..,,,

Hey gamers... can we get an F in the chat? 😔✌️💦

Satan

Satan lent you a book to read last week that he was sure you'd be interested in! He found it pretty interesting himself, so he wants to see if you'd like it as much as he did.

That being said, you don't have the heart to tell him that you,,, didn't read any of it. Well you kind of did, if the cover counts for anything.

You doubt he would accept that as an answer, considering how you told him how much you appreciated receiving the book, and how you'd definitely read it and let him know how it was.

So now, Satan had come into your room with two cups of tea, ready to settle down and have a nice, long talk about your thoughts on the riveting plot that you promised you would indulge in.

"I'm really glad you decided to read it. I found that the protagonist reminded me a lot like you. I'd like to know what you thought about it."

Satan sets down the tea cups, and one sip tells you that he brewed it exactly the way you like.

His expression is eager and warm as he waits for you to begin gushing about just how deeply the story touched you... how absolutely moved you are by the sheer majesty that was the book he lent you...

Okay yeah, you're sweating bullets. You can't imagine how the sparkly eyed avatar of wrath would react to learning that you chose the company of your D.D.D. over Satan's book.

You don't have such an ice cold hard that you can just crush this book nerds dreams like that! And every time you look at his expectant face, the weight of your crimes weigh heavier on you until... you break.

Satan watches in shock and awe as you almost perfectly reenact the big scene where the main character leaps out of the window of a building rigged to explode, before making their escape. And you did just that.

Wow.. he never thought you could be so moved by a story, but he completely understands...

Asmo

How many outfits, Asmo. HOW MANY OUTFTITS WILL IT TAKE TO APPEASE YOU?

He's made you model TWELVE outfits so far, and you swear if you see another ascot, you're gonna lose your mind.

Asmodeus doesn't seem to notice the way the light slowly fades from your eyes, because he's pulling out outfit number thirteen with that cheery smile of his.

"Isn't this one absolutely adorable? Look, this part will look lovely around your waist! This part here hugs your body in all the right places, and this-"

You can't do it. You've gotta get out of here. You'd love to stand around and get mild rug burn from trying on a billion different clothes, but-

Actually no you wouldn't.

You DID promise Asmo you'd hang out with him today, but this wasn't really your idea of a good time.

"-Oooh, just thinking about it makes me want to eat you up~! Here, put it on for me, will you? I'll give you a kiss as a reward!"

You would do no such thing.

You make a mad dash for his ornate window and push it open. He has no time to stop you as he helplessly watches you vault yourself out like the room was on fire.

"MC?! Wh-where are you going?? Come back here! Grass stains are impossible to get out of that fabric!!!"

Beel

He means well. I swear he does. It's just that Beel can be a little... overbearing when he's worried about you. He cares, okay?

But he hasn't seen you eat anything all day! You tell him it's because you've got a stomach ache from who knows what, and you promise you've had little snacks here and there to keep from starving, but he can't accept that!

Eating is important, and you need it to survive. So Beelzebub was currently trying to nudge your mouth open with a pizza slice, while you vehemently refused. "Just one bite. And then another after that. You have to eat, or you'll go hungry... and I don't want that."

Beel knows the true pain of being hungry, and he’d never wish that on you! So just forget about your stomach ache for two seconds and open up-

Not that you really can. The aroma of that pizza was not sitting well on your stomach, and you were pretty sure you needed a fast escape or you'd risk losing your lunch. Greasy foods didn't exactly mix well with sour stomachs...

Beel still won't let up. He has a strong hand planted firmly on the small of your back, as if trying to prevent you from leaning back any further in your attempt to escape the pizza.

"If you eat this, I'll treat you to dessert at Madam Screams," he says, as if bribing your refusal of food USING food will somehow work out.

You can't break his heart, but you seriously can't eat that! Your head is spinning, thoughts racing, face becoming greasier and greasier from the pizza pressed against it, and-

You snap. In a sudden burst of strength you break free from Beel's grasp, and sprint toward the nearest window. All you see is your chance for freedom, and you're taking it.

You leap out and tumble into the ground, all while Beelzebub wonders what?? Just happened???? Did you really hate pizza that much...?

He never knew you were such a picky eater... To think you'd go so far as to jump out of the window though...

Belphie

You thought it was cute at first, when Belphegor wanted you to join him for his naps. And you didn't mind much. It was the weekend, you were tired, and he makes a pretty good body pillow.

But you didn't realize he planned for this to become an everyday thing. The youngest might not act it, but he sure could be spoiled.

But seriously, if you slept any longer, you might never have a normal sleep schedule again! It never occurred to you just how often Belphie sleeps.

He's definitely not human, because there's no way you can keep up with that, and maintain a normal lifestyle.

But the way he quietly, gently grabs your sleeve to cue your next nap session makes your heart clench. Why was it so damned hard to say no to this gremlin??

You were trying your best though, but the words always seemed to get caught in your throat. Belphie picked apart your excuses, doing everything in his power to take you back to the attic.

"You can study when you wake up." "Mammon wants to go shopping? Reschedule." "Lucifer told you not to be late to the board meeting? Just hide."

You're starting to get sucked into the sleepy lull of his voice, and it feels like your entire body is becoming heavy with fatigue. But no.... you resist!

Since there's no escaping this through words, you have to think fast. Fortunately, your fast thinking has led to an amazing solution!

Jump out of the window, baby

Belphie is just??? Did you fuckin???? Are your legs okay??????????????

He probably stops asking you to nap with him for a while, since you're willing to almost break your legs just to get out of it. You're gonna make him have weird dreams....

[crymeariveronceagain]

I’m going to put this here under the assumption that you’re okay with receiving vents. If not, I’m so sorry for the misunderstanding and please ignore this ask. I hope you’re doing well either way.

(Very heavy vent below, once again do not read if you’re not comfortable. Put yourself first, please!)

Vent start: I don’t know what to do. That’s the summary of it. I just don’t know. I want to be okay and normal and healthy so much, but I just can’t. So often I hear “you’re not alone!” And “There are so many other people like you out there!” And I believe it but I just can’t seem to find them. Every person I’ve spoken to cannot relate to me, and if they can relate to me at all it’s with one of my most surface-level issues, and it just makes me feel more alone than before. I’ve been suicidal for years and years now. I have ocd, autism, adhd, sensory processing disorder, insomnia, and severe general and social anxiety along with severe depression. (These are professionally diagnosed.) I am 16 years old. I feel like I’ve been alive for centuries. I don’t think I’ve ever felt like a kid, even when I was a small child. I can’t even imagine what it feels like to be joyful because my entire life has been this endless cycle of stress and misery and there’s not a thing I can do about it. I’m not good at anything, I can barely even exist in the moment without dissociating. None of the doctors I’ve spoken to care about me, I am tearing my family apart because of what a bad state I’m in. I just want the people I care about to be happy, but I cannot even achieve that because the biggest obstacle in the way of their happiness is me.

Vent’s over now.

In other news, you are very good at writing and I admire your work, and how you are able to release it so quickly. Please take care of yourself, and I wish you well (whether or not you chose to read the vent.) <3

hoooooooooo boy that's a vent, but love, I'm glad you went somewhere with it. That's a lot. It sounds horrible to deal with. Like, every bit of what you described I would collapse instantly under. Pass out and die immediately. Just, sheer emotional crunch.

You are infinitely stronger than I am. You are far more powerful, more impressive, and amazing than i could ever be.

I'm so sorry no one can relate to you. That is one of the worst feelings. Ever. Human beings want to be recognized, seen, noticed, and understood. I believe it is also the human condition that as much as we want to be understood, no one ever perfectly does. It burns, hurts, stings. Aches.

And you're right, I can't relate to your struggles either. I wish I could. Honestly. Like, I know it's selfish, but I really wish I had more mental problems just so I could relate to people who go through this kind of thing.

As far as the suicidal thoughts go, what my advice there is: I love you. Hang on for me. The world is so much better with you in it. You might not be able to see how, but I see it. Someone's gonna read this post and think, stars, there's someone out there like me. And you, in this moment, are the hope for another person. You are hope, beloved. Keep being hope. Keep going.

Everything else, I'm sure you've heard every advice on the planet, there's not going to be much I can add to it. Like, everything you're going through? It's awful. It's hard. Nothing I say can make it better, because it... it's out of the reach of words.

Words can't make it better.

There are things words can't change. This is one of them.

But, all I can offer is that you are far stronger than I've ever been, or ever will be. You are the hope for every person dealing with what feels overwhelming. You are the strength people need to see in the world.

Because it takes a lot of strength, keeping going. It takes so much work. I know it has to.

Also, honestly, doctors piss me off <3. I hope you find better ones. You deserve better ones. People should care about you. I care about you.

And. For the record.

You are not an obstacle to anyone's happiness. That's a lie your brain is desperately trying to convince you of. But it isn't true.

People's happiness does not depend on you. You are outside of them. They control their own emotions. They are responsible for themselves. They are in charge of their own wellbeing. Joy is a choice. Happiness is an emotion, chemicals in the brain. Joy is a conscious choice. Like, seriously. There are things that people get wrong in this world, and one of them is that every emotion is just feeling. Like, Love is willing the good of the other. That's not a feeling, that's a choice. Joy is a choice to focus on what's good, to strive to just keep going.

So, darling, dearest, beloved anon.

You, my dear, are hope. You are strength. You are power. You may not feel like it. In fact, you probably feel like the opposite, most of the time.

But you give me hope. Because if you can do it, I can too.

If you are brave enough to keep on going.

Stars, the rest of us can only keep going on in awe of you.

[oddaodd]

Thomas shelby x reader corpse bride quotes tho😳‘I love you Thomas but you are not mine’ ‘you have kept your promise you set me free’ PLZPLZPLZ

I Will Be Your Wine

Warnings : angst

Author´s note: I just want to say I absolutely adore this request because i love The corpse Bride and if I ever get married I fully intent of adding the movie´s vows to my own because they are just so 🥺 , but yeah,  thanks for requesting this and i hope you like it! ❤️

Also, there´s a second part! 

She always knew her marriage to Tommy wasn’t born entirely out of love, but rather of concern and sympathy. Her family had insisted on marrying her to some rich bachelor from Shropshire. A cruel man was how she had described her soon to be husband to her then best friend Thomas who proposed to her that same night promising to never make her feel caged. Just like that he freed her from what would surely be a dreadful life, it was what anybody would do for someone they deeply cared about was what he told himself as he laid in bed that night. Marrying the person he cared about the most in the world was what seemed right, even if he didn’t love he the way he had loved Greta.

All his concerns vanished after they finished saying their vows and kissed. The kiss feeling as a sort of promise to each other that went well beyond marriage. Anybody who saw them would say they were the perfect couple, but they never felt it like so even despite the loving glances and tender words and touches exchanged between the pair.

It was complicated… or well it became complicated when he returned from war. Not a different man, but not quite the same. Cold and indifferent to her. It wasn’t like he was contumelious towards her, but his eyes didn’t look at her the way the used to before the war and suddenly they stopped looking at her, leaving at the crack of dawn and sometimes never arriving home at night.

Y/n didn’t have to guess about his whereabouts, she knew he was with her. The Irish barmaid who seemed to have brought life back to Tommy. It seemed like ages ago When inspector Campbell showed up at y/n’s doorstep Informing her of what he had seen through Grace’s window in hopes that she would tell him where the guns were hidden. Y/n didn’t know what hurt the most, Tommy fucking somebody else when she was worried sick about him at their home or the fact that she didn’t even know about what guns inspector Campbell was talking about.

“Inspector Campbell visited”  she said trying to maintain a cold demeanor as soon as he steeped into their home a day later “Why didn’t you tell me about the fucking guns?”

He sighed taking off his coat and cap “I didn’t want you to get involved”

“What, with your life?!” She asked accusingly, not longer caring about her demeanor. “ I was here at home worried sick and I had to hear it from inspector Campbell that you were with that other woman! And not only that, but that apparently you are hiding some guns the crown wants!!”

“She’s not the other woman” he said, half annoyed, half guiltily not wanting to address the guns.

“You are married to me! She’s the other woman” she sobbed, her anger turning into pain as she turned her back on him. She felt his arms wrapping around her waist but she pushed him away and stormed out of the house. She needed to breathe. When she arrived home after venting out her emotions in an open field, she let him embrace her as he told her everything about the guns.

She put up with it, not knowing where she and Tommy stood, there was a legal paper testifying to their union resting in a cabinet drawer among other legal papers, but she had never felt so far away from him. And yet for a strange reason, they remained married. Maybe because of the comfort they provided for each other, was her guess.  It had  been like that before they got married, the best of friends so, when he proposed she just assumed they would become even closer, if she had only known how wrong she was in assuming so.

It took her a while, but she got around to accepting the realization that they were never meant to be husband and wife. Even after Grace left for America She knew  that her and Tommy’s marriage wouldn’t last forever. The day he was set to turn everything legal for business  he arrived home late at night with dirt on his clothes and all it took was one look at his face for her to know that it would be over.

“She’s pregnant” he confessed.

It didn’t come as a surprise, still she stood where she was not knowing how to digest what she feared would become of Grace´s sojourn in Birmingham at the time becoming a reality instead of just a thought that made her heart ache. He expected her to say something, but she couldn’t find the words.

“Ill provide for her and the child” he said with a strained voice looking at the ground.

“But that’s not what you want” she said in a whisper of acceptance and realization “you want to build a life with her”

He walked over to her and engulfed her in an intoxicating hug. It was the truth. “Ill provide for you” he said.

“I don’t want you to provide for me” she sighed and took a deep breath bracing herself for what she would do next ”I love you Tommy, but you are not mine”

She parted a bit  from the hug so she could look into his eyes which were also glossy with tears by then “And because I love you I want you to be happy” a sob escaping her throat at her words “And I know that she will make you happy”

He held her face in his hands conflict scattered on his face as he dried the tears running down her face. “Im sorry, I’m so sorry” and he was sorry, he wished he could love her like she deserved to be loved.

“You don’t have to be sorry. You kept your promise, you set me free” she said grabbing one of his hands in hers “I’ll go somewhere nice, you know I’ve always wanted to travel the world”

He chuckled tearily and traced the ring he had put on her finger many years ago.

“I’ll keep it, but I won’t wear it anymore” she said with a sad smile knowing that she would miss him to an agonizing extent.

“I’ll do the same with mine” he vowed knowing that in a way they would always be tied together by a bond stronger than marriage.

@captivatedbycillianmurphy​

@peakyxtommy​

[itstittycitybaby]

What is Lost is Once Found Again (Lin Beifong x fem! reader)

 A/N: this is the angst fic and i have finished editing it. been feeling down lately because of some things so whens a better time to write something angsty? also reader is a firebender bc i feel like firebenders do not get enough love. enjoy yall. 

warnings: angst, emotional/physical abuse, one homophobic slur.

You saw how happy they were. They couldn’t keep their hands off of each other. The bouquet of flowers fell from your hands. Its petals falling like the pieces of your heart that shattered. Though, this was your fault wasn’t it? You had introduced them after all and they hit it off. The rest was history. She laughed; Tenzin had made her laugh. Your vision became blurry from the tears in your eyes. You wanted to scream. You had been too late. Lin looked over and waved at you. There was a grin on her face, something you never really saw from her. You swallowed the cry that threatened to claw its way out. The urge to vomit was strong. You waved back weakly. Their attention turned from you and back to them. The fresh wild flowers you had picked for her were now damaged. It didn’t matter anymore. She looked so happy standing next to him. Lin’s green eyes looked a bit soft as she noticed the bouquet. It was a rare sight to see her so happy. Her voice sounded blurry and muddled. It felt like you were watching a movie play out on the big screen of a theatre. Tenzin looked concerned at your state of being. Here you were standing in front of them but you seemed gone. Lin’s voice snapped you out of your daze. 

Her strong features pulled in concern as she called your name softly. “Are you alright?” No, you weren’t. You couldn’t tell Lin how much it hurt to see how happy she was with Tenzin. You couldn’t confess your feelings that you’ve been harboring for a while. Tenzin was your best friend and you didn’t want to ruin how joyful he was. If he knew he’d step aside and let you have her. He’d swallow it all down just for you. Blinking, your lips quivered. “I-I was just going to visit my father’s grave,” you lied. Their faces dropped; they knew how important your father had been to you. “Is that what you were going to give him,” Tenzin asked gently, head motioning to the now ruined flowers on the gravel. At that moment you hated Tenzin. He was so soft and kind that you felt guilty about falling in love with his girlfriend. You nodded, “Doesn’t matter anyways. I-I gotta go...see you later.” They tried to stop you; they called after you but you ignored them. She was gone now. You were too late. They were so enamored with each other now it didn’t matter anymore. The ache in your heart was deep. You felt anchored in the cold icy waters of the ocean but you couldn’t reach out. Cement blocks held your feet every time as you dragged through the sand. The ache in your bones became numb with the cold and every time you screamed you’d choke on the water. He makes her happy, you told yourself. I was too late.

Neither of them really talked to you anymore. It was expected, though. They were a new couple in the honeymoon phase. That’s how your mother put it, the alcohol in her system making her words slur and her movements clumsy. Your father’s anniversary of his death had passed a couple days ago and your mom became even more depressed. You fought the urge to scorch the walls that night when she spat her venomous words towards you. They were a sharp blade but you didn’t care. It would sink its blades into your skin and blood would rise. Eventually, it all became numb. Her sharp hilt of words became numb once more. “It’s your fault he’s dead. It’s your fault he’s gone.” The words stung but she was right. Your father’s death was your fault. “You know,” Tenzin started, his legs swinging off the steps of your porch. “My family will always welcome you.” It was cold that night. The freezing air bit your fingers and the wind whipped your clothes around. Tenzin had come to check up on you. He always did every anniversary. “I know,” you said softly. “I know.”

“No wonder she doesn’t talk to you anymore. A handsome and kind man sweeps Lin off of her feet. I’d do the same.” Your mother was sober this morning. She was back to her usual jabs but the eggs in front of you helped drown her out. You clenched your fork tightly, your knuckles turned white. “Too bad you couldn’t get him first.” You slammed your fist down on the counter. Flames flickered in your hands. Its tongues threatened to burn the counter you sat at. Your mother whipped around, eyes growing wide at your burning hands. You could feel how scared she was. She didn’t bother you anymore that day.

Dammit Tenzin! Lin’s room was warm compared to your frozen house. You always envied her for it but not tonight. You held her tight as she vented about her boyfriend. Well, now ex boyfriend. The thought made you scoff. Pema was a sweet girl but she was selfish. Incredibly selfish. “Am I just unloveable?” You snapped out of your thoughts. Lin didn’t shed any tears but her voice sounded so broken. “No Lin no,” you said softly, rubbing her shoulder supportively. “Tenzin’s just a dumbass. Pema is selfish and wanted to break two people’s happiness. Tenzin was stupid to got for it. You are loveable Lin.” I love you. Lin swallowed thickly; you could see her fighting the tears. “It’s stupid to cry over.” “No,” you exclaimed, pulling her into your chest. “It’s something perfectly justified to cry over! If you wanna cry you should, it’s good to cry.” “Heh. Thanks.”

 You smiled softly. The moon shone on her pale features beautifully through her bedroom window. You had snuck out that night but your mom had drunk herself to sleep. You couldn’t help but think how selfish Pema was to break two people apart. While you had kept your mouth shut and swallowed the hurt, she paraded around with Tenzin. Lin’s bedroom window was open after she helped you in. You felt guilty about throwing a small rock near her window. But, when you heard Tenzin had broken up with her from some gossip in town, you made haste to Lin. The box of fudge from the bakery you had bought for her was almost empty from eating both of your feelings. “Please don’t hurt him,” Lin said softly in your arms. Her eyes were heavy and her breathing was more shallow. “I’ll try not to,” you joked. She laughed. For the first time that night she laughed and your heart swelled at the thought. “Night Lin,” you whispered, setting her gently onto the bed. She snored softly, causing your heart to swell. You kissed her head and ventured home. 

You swung your feet from Lin’s bathroom counter. Tenzin and Lin hadn’t talked in a little over a year. Being your best friend the two of you talked and you gave clipped answers when he’d ask about her. Anytime you saw Pema you felt the rage and felt flames in your palms threatening to burst. You had yelled at him for an hour about how stupid and selfish he was. Aang had to come outside and see what all the ruckus was about. “Fuck,” you said tightly. You came back to the present from the stinging pain of the rubbing alcohol. “Sorry,” Lin muttered. For being such a hardass she was gentle when she needed to be. The cotton ball was soft on your temple, giving you some relief. At least the nosebleed stopped, but your eye was beginning to swell. “She can’t be doing this to you anymore,” she said softly, her brows worrying. For being nineteen, Lin  looked pretty mature. Though, she had always been more stern and responsible even as a kid. 

“It’s fine,” you muttered, brushing it off. You winced at the alcohol again. “No it’s not,” she replied sternly. You could see her green eyes flare up but there was concern and worry underneath it. “If you need somewhere to stay you can stay with me. I don’t want you to have to go through this anymore.” You didn’t interrupt her rant. Interrupting Lin is the equivalent to poking a grumpy old bear/ “What happened this time?” You sighed. You really didn’t want to have this conversation. Lin was open minded about certain things but you weren’t sure about being attracted to the same gender. It was still something you yourself were coming to terms with. Your mother had found out and the glass bottle shattered on the wall. It was meant for your head. “Just her being her usual self. Getting mad at something,” you clipped. Lin could tell you weren’t telling the whole story but she let it drop, thankfully. ��All done,” she said. “Thanks.” She nodded in reply. “Do you need to stay here tonight?” “I don’t wanna intrude. I can stay at Kiki’s.” Kiki’s was the bakery you had bought the box of fudge for Lin when Tenzin broke up with her. The owner was always kind to you and knew about your struggles. He was warm hearted and offered you a place to crash from time to time. He reminded you of your father. Lin shook her head. “You’re staying here tonight. Besides, I just got this place and I want to spend time with you.” Your heart warmed at her words. An unrequited crush, two years strong. How sad. Your mother’s words rang in your ears. “How could she ever love a fag like you?” 

It was raining that morning. Kiki’s had hired you as a baker and offered you the room upstairs. Even though firebenders were known to be ambitious, passionate, and more aggressive than others, you had no drive or ambition. You didn’t know what you wanted in life but baking was something you were passionate about. “I’m gonna be out,” you shouted over your shoulder. “Alright be safe,” Maro, the store owner, called out from the back. Swinging your satchel over your shoulder you grabbed the box of leftover donuts for Lin. You balanced the two coffee cups on the box and swiftly left the place. Your bright blue bicycle rested on the side of the bakery. As you mounted your bike you smiled, excited to see Lin today. The two coffee cups sat in the cup holders on the sides of the basket while the donuts sat safely in the basket.The wind whipped through your hair and the rain drizzled lightly. The rain was light but you peddled quickly so the food wouldn’t be ruined. Lin’s wasn’t too far Kiki’s either. It felt freeing to be peddling down the hills; your worries flew away with the sweeping wind. Her apartment came into view. The thought of seeing her made you peddle faster. You placed your bike on the side of the building and pounded up the stairs. You held the box of donuts tightly in your hands, shielding it from the now pouring rain. Your heart quickened as you reached her front door. You had left Kiki’s at eight so she had to be up by now. You knocked on her door. Faintly, you could hear her footsteps. Lin greeted you with a blanket on her shoulders and a white tank top under it. Black sweats hugged her body nicely. The dark circles under her eyes were prominent in the bright gray morning. “What a surprise,” she said, the corners over her lips tugging upwards. You chuckled, “Had some leftovers and decided to visit. It’s been a while.” Her eyes lightened up at the sight of coffee and the delicious pastries. Lin held the door for you as you balanced the goodies and stepped into her apartment.

“Talked to Tenzin finally.” You almost choked on the sprinkled donut you were eating. Lin held her coffee cup in her hands as she glanced down at her kitchen counter. Her plain glazed donut sat on a napkin untouched. You gulped your food down. “That’s..great. What’d he say?” Lin chuckled at your answer. “He apologized, actually.” She sipped her black coffee. “Oh…” you trailed off. You weren’t sure how to respond. He had broken up with her three years ago and now apologized? “I don’t feel anything about it anymore. I was surprised, honestly.” You hummed, sipping your hot chocolate. “Took him long enough.” Lin snorted, “It did. I just can’t help but wonder...why.” You shot a confused glance her way, digging into the box for another sweet. A chocolate donut, this time. You missed the smile Lin had as she saw your childlike wonder and excitement about something so small as a pastry. “No one seems to have any interest in me anymore. Can’t help but wonder if I’m going to die alone,” she joked, taking another sip of her drink. You could hear a bit of sadness in her voice though. Passion bubbled in your chest and before you could think better you opened your mouth. “You’re not gonna die alone Lin. You’re sweet and kind and compassionate. You care about the people you love and are fiercely loyal. You’re intelligent and observant and also snarky. You’re just so….perfect!” The creeping anxiety surged when the answer you met with was silence. Muffled laughter escaped Lin’s lips as she tried to keep a straight face. It was rare; her body shook and the giggles turned into laughter. It rang in your ears and your heart swelled at the perfect sound. Before you could stop yourself, you kissed her.Her lips tasted like coffee and mint. She smelt like earth, paper, and leather. Her lips were soft and plush. Your eyes widened and immediately you pulled back. “I-I’m so s-sorry I-,” you sputtered, scurrying away from her. Lin just stared. There was no expression on her face as she looked at you. You felt tears run down your cheeks before you had a chance to stop them. A heavy lump sat in your throat and you dashed to get your bag. You left without another word, slamming Lin’s door behind you. She didn’t even try to stop you. 

“I’m a fucking idiot,” you sobbed, the rain pouring, soaking you to the bone. You peddled faster, sobs unleashing from your throat. The road was hard to see from the rain and your blurry vision. You didn’t care, if something or someone hit you you would accept your fate. Hell, that would be a good one. Better than losing Lin for good. Once you wheeled your bike to it’s spot you dashed into Kiki’s. Customers sat at tables leaving the workers distracted so you bolted upstairs. You didn’t feel like having Maro interrogate your crying right now. As much as you loved the big jolly man, you couldn’t let him see you like this. You changed out of your wet clothes and threw on something comfortable. For the rest of the day you let your blankets embrace you and cried your heart out. Eventually, you drifted off to sleep.

It was five pm once you woke up again. The memory of kissing Lin and acting so stupid made you curse. Tears threatened to spill again and you trembled. A soft knock snapped you out of your thoughts. “Come in,” you croaked. Maro opened the door poking his head in. “Are you alright?” The dam broke loose. Instantly you were a sobbing mess again. The man who was almost like your father closed the door quickly and held you in his arms. “What happened,” he cooed, rocking you back and forth. You told him everything;about your mother, your father, and Lin. After you were finished he kissed the top of your head. “Give her some time. She’ll come around with an answer for you soon. She’d be lucky to have you.” “Thanks Maro,” you sniffled, wiping your eyes. A few moments of silence stretched. You didn’t believe his words, something told you that you pushed Lin away for good.“I think I’m gonna have to leave.” The giant man beneath you squawked. “I need to learn how to control my firebending still. I’ve shut it away for so long, I think it’s time now.” Maro sighed, “I knew this day would come. You’re sure of it? What if Lin comes for you?” You shook your head. “I don’t think she will Maro.” “Alright. When you come back, you have a home here at Kiki’s. Y’know that right?” “I-I know. Thank you Maro.”

The next morning Maro and his brother waved you off. Maro cried as he gave you one last hug and a box of sweets for the go. You felt tears well up in your eyes as you said goodbye to your only family. “T-thank you Maro for everything. I never deserved your kindness.” “Yes you do, you’re family. You’re my daughter,” Maro blubbered. Even Maro’s brother who was a stone faced man had tears in his eyes You smiled. Your lips quivered and tears streamed down your face. “I love you guys,” you choked out. “I-I’ll be back soon I promise.” With one last goodbye you made your way to Tenzin and his family for a farewell.Tenzin was sad to see you go but he understood. Some journeys were meant to be traveled alone. Aang wished you the best of your travels and sent a wool cloak with you. It was soft and the warmest thing you ever owned. Pema was there, and you were civil with her, but after what she had done to Lin you didn’t see her the same. Tenzin had given you an amulet he was keeping for you and it hung around your neck proudly. You hurried to the docks of Republic City. Missing the boat would certainly add to your already dampened spirits. As you swept through the streets you couldn’t help but think of Lin. The wounds were still fresh but you trudged on. Like a coward, you ran.

Your room was barren and cold. ‘Had it always been this cold,’ Lin thought. The baker, Maro, looked sad today. It was unusual for he was joyful and warm. But today his flame had been blown at, the smoke curling around his heart. Lin was paralyzed when you had kissed her. She couldn’t move until it was too late. A white envelope sat on your desk. Lin. She ran to the desk and ripped it open. As she read it, her eyes widened and her eyes felt watery. Dammit. She was too late. Lin flung the letter on the floor and bolted to the docks. The white parchment paper sifted through the air gracefully until it fell on the ground.

Lin,

I’m sorry. I did what must be done.

 Goodbye,

xx

“No!” Lin cried out as the boat sailed away from view. Tears spilled from her cheeks and her teeth clenched. Her fists were balled tightly and her face twisted in anguish. You were gone, forever. She stood on the busy docs;people went around her throwing dirty looks her way. She didn’t care. They went around her mumbling under their breaths. She had been too late. “Line five, ship is boarding, line five, ship is boarding,” the guy called out. Lin perked up. Were you still here? Quickly, she scanned the line. Her heart stopped. She recognized the familiar body and the wool cloak shrouded protectively across their shoulders. Lin bounded over to you. Her hand grabbed your wrist tightly and she pulled you out of the line. “Hey-” your eyes widened as you saw her. “Lin? What are you-” “You’re an idiot you know that?” You gulped. You didn’t think Lin would talk to you anymore but her anger wasn’t unexpected. “I-I’m sorry,” you said softly, averting her intense gaze. “I-I wasn’t thinking clearly and I admit that. But if you’ve come here to ridicule me-” Lin smashed your lips with hers. A muffled squeak in surprise left you but you melted into her touch. Lin’s hands held your face tightly and her chest brushed up against yours. You sighed into the kiss allowing her tongue to enter your mouth and gently sucking on yours. She pulled away;both of you out of breath. Your cheeks heated up at the realization that the love of your life liked you back. “How long have you loved me,” Lin asked softly. Her eyes shone with fondness as she looked at you. “You know when you started dating Tenzin?” She nodded. “I was gonna confess to you then.” Lin’s eyes widened in shock. “Why didn’t you tell me?” You smiled sadly, “You looked so happy. I didn’t want to ruin that.” Lin kissed you again. Her hands held your waist in a tight grip and she bent you lower. You giggled, grabbing her face for support. There were tears in her eyes as she looked at you. You felt your eyes start to water and you laughed softly. “I love you,” Lin whispered, tears threatening to spill. “Don’t you ever leave me again.” You smiled, you were crying again but these were happy tears instead. Gently, she wiped the spilling tears from your cheeks with her thumbs. They felt a bit rough but you couldn’t complain. You nodded, swallowing thickly. “I love you too Lin.”

[mikauzoran]

Lady Noir/Lila Fake-Dating/Emotional Blackmail: Betting Against the House: Chapter Seven

Read it on AO3: Betting Against the House: Chapter Seven: Floodgates

“Okay,” Ladybug sighed heavily fifteen minutes into their patrol that Sunday night. “I know why I’m in a crumby mood, but why are you so lifeless, Chat Noir? You’ve been really off all week.”

His brow furrowed in confusion, trying to think of when he’d seen her that week for her to notice that something was not right with him. He quickly shook it off, reasoning that it didn’t really matter. Maybe he’d been distracted the last time they’d seen each other and now she was lumping that in with the mood she’d noticed at present.

“It’s…kind of complicated,” he explained without explaining.

Her run slowed to a stop, and she turned to look at him with those piercingly perceptive blue eyes. “Want to talk about it?”

He bit his lip, hesitating.

Telling Nino had ended disastrously…but would it really hurt to tell Ladybug? He was getting to the point where he needed to vent, and Ladybug was a safe choice. She didn’t know who he was, so there was no way she could interfere.

“…Yeah,” he eventually decided. “Okay. Let’s talk. It’s kind of a long story, so do you want to go sit somewhere?”

She nodded and motioned for him to follow her.

They came to a stop on the roof of the school, and Ladybug sank unceremoniously into a cross-legged position, patting the space beside her.

“It’s actually pretty comfortable, let me assure you,” she chuckled, trying to keep the atmosphere light.

“Not bad,” he confirmed as he took a seat with his legs stretched out in front of him.

“So, what’s up?” she prodded gently. “You seem like you have a lot on your mind.”

He nodded, exhaling long and slow. “Yeah. You don’t even know the half of it.”

“So tell me.” She nudged his shoulder with her own.

“You go first,” he insisted. “Tell me why you’re in a crumby mood, and I’ll tell you about what’s eating me alive from the inside out.”

“Oh, it’s not really a big deal,” Ladybug sighed, looking away. “Just my friend, this guy that I kind of have a crush on, has gone totally insane. He’s dating my arch-nemesis now.”

Chat Noir arched an eyebrow. “He’s dating Papillon?” he snorted incredulously. “Yikes. Your friend has some seriously poor taste.”

She cracked up, shaking her head. “No, no. Worse than Papillon. I swear this girl got kicked out of hell because she bullied the devil too much, but my friend’s, like, in love with her now or something…” The levity abruptly dropped out of her voice, replaced by an aching sadness. “…so I don’t think we’re going to be friends anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” he quietly consoled her, reaching out to rub soothing circles between her shoulder blades. “That really sucks, Ladybug…. It’s hard growing apart from people you were close to,” he whispered, thinking of his own moribund relationship with Chloé. “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She sighed again in resignation. “He’s got the patience of a saint, but I don’t think even he can stand her for too long. One of these days, he’s going to wake up, realize he’s made the biggest mistake of his life, and come crawling back to me to ask my forgiveness and beg to be my friend again.”

“I hope so.” He gave her back a pat and then withdrew his hand.

“So…” She tipped her head at him expectantly. “I told you my problem; now, you tell me yours.”

He grimaced, looking down at the empty street below. “I’ve…kind of gotten myself into a mess. You’re going to freak.”

“What happened? Are you okay?” she pressed, all teasing gone from her tone and expression.

He seesawed his hand back and forth in a “so-so” gesture. “I’m…I don’t know. I just bit off more than I can chew. I thought I could go toe to toe with her, but…”

He shook his head.

“Start from the beginning,” Ladybug instructed.

Chat took a deep breath. “The beginning. Right…. So…there’s this girl I’m in love with.”

Taken aback, Ladybug gave a start and blinked rapidly. “You’re…in love?”

He nodded, a secretive smile coming to his lips as he thought about Marinette. “Yeah. Like…disgustingly in love. I would do anything for her.”

“Oh,” Ladybug replied weakly, struggling to keep her heartbreak from showing.

“I mean, a part of me will always love you, Ladybug, but I long ago decided to respect your wishes, and I think it turned out for the best because…Princess is the one,” he admitted, feeling a rush just talking about her.

Ladybug blinked. “‘P-Princess’?”

He nodded. “I mean, I can’t tell you her actual name, so…‘Princess’ is what I call her.”

She briefly wondered if he called anyone else “Princess”. Could it really be true that he had fallen in love with her twice?

“She’s so amazing, Ladybug. You’d like her. I’ve liked her for a long time…probably a couple years, actually. I just…I didn’t realize it right away, but now…” He laughed at himself, the giddiness going to his head. “I’m such a goner. So, anyway. We’re friends, and she doesn’t know how I feel…yet. I’m scared of messing things up, and she’s so out of my league, but… Then, there’s this other girl…. Let’s call her Jasmin.”

“Jasmin,” Ladybug repeated, trying to match the pseudonym to someone she knew.

“Yeah,” Chat sighed. “Jasmin is a huge bully.”

The bottom dropped out of her stomach as she recognized Lila.

It occurred to her that she should probably stop him. He could potentially give too much away, not realizing that she’d seen through the false names and knew the people whom he was talking about.

She didn’t stop him, though. She told herself that she was worried about him. He’d been so wrong all week, and he seemed to need to get whatever this was off his chest. She needed to be there for him and figure out what was wrong so that she could fix it.

She didn’t believe the lies she told to make herself feel better. She knew she was a bad person for taking advantage of the situation, but she couldn’t help her need to know what Chat had to say about Lila and Marinette.

“No one knows she’s secretly a bad person, though,” he informed unsuspectingly. “Jasmin has them all fooled…except Princess. Princess saw through her and tried to expose Jasmin, but it didn’t go over well, so now Jasmin has this vendetta against Princess.”

Ladybug nodded to show she was following along. “That’s…that’s awful.”

“Yeah.” Chat blew out a breath and carded a clawed hand carefully through his hair. “It’s…awful doesn’t begin to cover it. Jasmin is seriously dangerous. She’s threatened to spread rumors that would ruin Princess’s reputation, her career prospects, her friendships…everything. Jasmin is well-connected, unfortunately, so she’s kind of a powerful enemy. I’ve been afraid that she was actually going to physically hurt Princess before a couple times.”

“Oh my gosh,” Ladybug whispered hollowly, feeling ill.

“That’s where I come in,” he informed ruefully, obviously regretting his part in all of this.

She tipped her head to the side, brow furrowing as she stared at him uncomprehendingly. “What do you mean?”

He bit his lip. “I go to school with them…and I’m Jasmin’s coworker.”

Ladybug sucked in a sharp breath, internally beginning to panic.

This was too much. She had to stop him. He was giving too much away.

“I’ve been making deals with Jasmin for years to keep her at bay,” he groaned. “Otherwise, there’s no telling what she would have done to Princess.”

All previous thoughts left Ladybug’s mind as she gawked dumbly at her partner, trying to understand what he had just told her. “Wait. What? Deals? What deals?”

He had been making deals with Lila? For her sake?

“At first it was nothing,” he snorted bitterly. “I just had to pretend to be friends with her, introduce her to industry contacts, appear at events with her, not say anything bad about her. I didn’t think anything of it because it was a small price to pay for Princess’s safety.”

He turned to face her, and she could see the fear in his eyes. “What else was I supposed to do? I’m not very powerful by myself, but that was the one card I had to play. A couple years ago, Jasmin carried out this character assassination plot that got Princess expelled. If I could fix things with a small sacrifice, I owed it to Princess to make it. She’s done so much for me, Ladybug. She doesn’t even know.”

“So you got her un-expelled,” Ladybug breathed, putting the pieces together. “You saved her.”

He laughed halfheartedly at that. “Princess mostly saves herself. I just got Jasmin to back off and get the expulsion reversed in exchange for pretending to be Jasmin’s friend.”

“No,” Ladybug insisted, resting a hand on Chat’s forearm. “You saved her.”

The shadow of a smile tugged at his lips. “Well…maybe a little. I hope so, at least. She’s certainly saved me more times than I can count.”

“I bet she loves you,” Ladybug hummed happily, fully intending to kiss Chat Noir silly the next time he came to visit Marinette.

Surprisingly, Chat scoffed at the assertion. “Actually, I’m pretty sure she hates me.”

“What?! No! Absolutely not. She has to be crazy about you,” she insisted, trying to recall what she had done the last time they’d seen one another that would give him the impression that she did anything less than adore him.

“Jasmin’s latest price for Princess’s safety is that I have to pretend to be her boyfriend,” he grumbled, steeling himself for his partner’s reaction.

Ladybug’s hands dropped limply to her sides as everything started to come together. She felt numb. It was like the shock of suddenly losing a limb; the pain was too overwhelming to be felt, so she sat there staring, barely managing to find her voice to whisper a strangled, “What?”

“Princess thinks I betrayed her, and she hates me now. She won’t talk to me. She’ll barely look at me, and, when she does, it’s with pure disgust. It’s killing me, Ladybug,” he whimpered, barely holding it together as his whole body from his ears to his tail slumped, wilting.

“No,” she choked, shaking her head futilely as she started to process what Adrien was doing for her and how she had repaid him. “Oh, no. Nononono.”

“I wish I could explain myself, but I can’t.” He picked up his tail and started playing with tip mindlessly. “She’d stop me if she knew…. Part of me wishes someone would stop me because it’s getting unbearable,” he laughed mirthlessly. “It’s only been a week, but I don’t know how much more I can take.”

She couldn’t breathe, and she was fairly certain that she was going to be sick. She almost wished she had never learned the truth because it was too painful to imagine everything Adrien had been suffering for her sake all of this time while Marinette had always held his seemingly amicable relationship with Lila against him.

She’d had no idea.

“I can’t stand it when she touches me,” he confessed with a shudder. “It’s like that pins and needles sensation when your foot falls asleep all over, and she’s getting bolder about it as time goes on. She sits on my lap at lunch, and it’s made me completely lose my appetite.”

Tears began to stream down her cheeks as she realized how spectacularly she had failed him.

“It’s gotten to the point where I’m physically starting to feel unwell,” he lamented, “but what choice do I have? Jasmin could destroy Princess’s entire career…. So, I just have to put up with it.”

He gave a resigned sigh, bowing his head in defeat.

Finding her strength, Ladybug reached out and grabbed hold of his forearm. “No. You absolutely do not. This ends here.”

“Ladybug,” he sighed, shaking his head in protest. “You don’t understand.”

“No, Adrien,” she corrected mournfully. “I think I finally do.”

His eyes shot open wide in panic, and an involuntary curse slipped past his lips. “You weren’t supposed to find out. How…?”

She shook her head, pulling him to his feet and asserting, “We need to talk,” as she half dragged him across the school’s roof in the direction of the bakery.

“Ladybug, where are we going?” he inquired warily as Marinette’s house came into view.

“Relax,” she commanded, grabbing him around the waist with one arm while the other threw her yoyo.

“Ladybug, no!” yelped as their destination became clear. “Don’t you dare tell her! I told you all that in confidence!”

“Adrien, settle down and get in here,” she grunted when he began to struggle in her arms as they touched down on the balcony.

“She can never know. Don’t you dare rat me out!” he growled, losing the battle as she pulled him down the skylight.

They landed on Marinette’s bed in a jumble, and Chat continued to fight in an attempt to get away until Ladybug muttered, “Detransformation,” and Chat Noir found himself in Marinette’s arms instead of Ladybug’s.

He blinked at her dumbly. “…Oh.” And then cursed a second time.

“Yeah,” she chuckled through rampant tears that would no longer be restrained. ���Oh, Adrien, how could you, you idiot? All this time?”

She shook her head, burying her face in his chest. “You absolute idiot.”

“I had to,” he tried to convince her, losing his focus as she wrapped around him like a baby koala.

“I’m so sorry I never realized…” she hiccupped, regaining some semblance of her composure. “…that I never saw how you were suffering. I was so caught up in my own problems, in my own head, that I never thought…”

She pulled back to look at him, taking his face in her hands. “Detransform. Please?”

He closed his eyes and hesitantly complied, cracking them open slowly to observe her reaction.

She wore a warm smile, and there was a softness to her eyes as she whispered, “Adrien Agreste, you’re my hero, and I love you—both of you—so much…even if you are an idiot.”

“Your idiot…if you’ll have me?” he offered tentatively with a nervous gulp.

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” she assured, inching closer to press her lips to his.

He surged into the kiss, savoring her warmth, her softness, her strawberries and oatmeal scent. He took note of the way her fingers dug into his arm and shoulder, the way she arched her back, pressing into him.

The heat of her breath on his face when they pulled back momentarily made him dizzy. It was sensory overload—too much and yet not enough at the same time.

They lost themselves in kiss after kiss until frenzied turned to languid and they were left sleepy and content in one another’s arms.

“…I’m sorry,” Marinette whispered, finally breaking the long silence as she gently played with Adrien’s hair and stroked his cheek.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” he assured, surprised that she was still thinking about it.

She shook her head. “No. I should have believed in you. I should have trusted you. I’m really ashamed that I turned on you so quickly.”

He shrugged, looking down at her collarbone, not meeting her eyes. “It’s okay…. I mean…it wasn’t really, but it all worked out, I guess, so…I don’t know. Don’t worry about it. It’s in the past now.”

She tipped his chin up to force him to look at her. “Thank you. For everything you’ve done to protect me.”

“I would do anything for you,” he repeated what he had told Ladybug before. “I’m serious. I would do it all again.”

“I know, but you don’t have to. Never again,” she promised. “It’s over, and now it’s time for me to protect you. She will never lay a hand on you ever again.”

“Marinette,” he sighed wearily. “You knowing doesn’t change anything. I have to do what she wants; otherwise, she’s going to ruin you.”

“Let her try,” she snorted. “I don’t care, Adrien. Let her do whatever she wants. We’re done letting her win. Let her do her worst to me, but she can’t have you anymore. We’re not playing her game.”

He frowned, unspoken worries filling his mind and reflecting in his eyes. “Are you sure about this?”

She nodded, smiling bravely. “No matter what she does, we won’t lose. We have one another. We’ll figure this out, and everything will be okay in the end. You’ll see.”

He hesitated for a moment, but then a tentative smile parted his lips. “…All right, My Lady. If there’s one thing I trust, it’s our partnership. So long as we’re in this together.”

“Always,” she assured, leaning in for another kiss.

[imkylotrash]

When In New York City (Part 2)

Pairing: David Dobrik x reader

Song: All These Years - Camila Cabello

Summary: They meet randomly after a couple of years and decide to get a cup of coffee.

A/N There will be a part 3. I couldn’t fit everything into part 2. 

PART 1

A couple of months pass before you see David again. You get the occasional text from him but overall you don’t stay in contact. You’ve almost given up that you’ll see him again when your phone lights up. 

“David is asking if he can come next weekend,” you say looking over at Melissa. 

“Did he break up with his girlfriend?” she asks suddenly focused on the ground. You know what she’s thinking.

“I don’t know. But it would only be as friends. He’d find a hotel room.” You tell yourself that this means nothing. He’s always been a big fan of Manhattan and this was just him showing an interest in that. 

“Okay, now say it like you actually believe it,” Melissa jokes but you know she’s right. You’re already putting way more into this visit than you should. He’s in a loving relationship and you need to respect that. So when Friday rolls around, you’ve managed to put your feelings into a little box hidden away in your mind. You and David are meeting as friends and nothing more. 

“You should’ve gone for the blue dress,” Melissa notes looking at your jeans and shirt. 

“It’s not a date,” you remind her before grabbing your purse. 

“Keep telling yourself that,” she laughs before walking away with coffee for one of the tables. It’s quiet for a Friday evening but even New York has to sleep at some point so you’re not that worried about business. 

“I have to get going. You’ll be okay?” you ask Melissa when she returns. 

“Go have fun, boss.” And with those words you hurry out the door to meet him at the corner of 68th and Columbus. The subway is packed with people just trying to get home after a long day at work. This is normally your least favourite time to take the subway because it’s the most likely time for people to get into arguments. Everyone is tired and on edge. The constant state of New Yorkers. 

“Hi,” you smile when you see him already standing there with two cups of coffee. 

“You went for a coffee?” you ask surprised. David’s never been a fan of coffee. 

“I asked them to put a hot chocolate in their coffee cup,” he admits sheepishly making you laugh. Something’s never change. 

“Cheater,” you laugh leading the way to Central Park. It’s beautiful this time of year with the lights and everything. One might say romantic even, but you quickly shut down that kind of thinking. 

“Penny for your thoughts,” you say to distract from your own thoughts. 

“Just thinking how glad I am that I could come. I had to get away from LA,” he replies looking at a couple wrapped up in each other on the bench. 

“I didn’t think you’d ever need to get away from LA.” Ever since you met David, he’s been talking about LA like it was the only place to exist. When he got his first apartment in LA, he’d cried out of pure happiness for an hour straight. He loved LA like other people love their dog. 

“I think I just needed to get away from one person in LA, if I’m being honest.” This sparks your interest. And foolishly your heart starts to hope that he might feel what you feel. But your brain knows that you’re getting way ahead of yourself. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” you ask focusing on his hands holding the coffee cup rather than his eyes. 

“I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, I kn-” he starts but you cut him off. 

“We were friends long before anything else, Dobrik. Tell me your troubles.” A catch phrase the two of you used whenever the other needed to vent. So he does tell you. He tells you how his work has been driving him crazy lately with deadlines and fans waiting for his next video. How he’s had trouble juggling everything and that’s put too much pressure on his relationship. 

“You probably don’t want to hear about that part,” he says suddenly and when you look into his eyes, you know he’s thinking of whispered promises between the two of you. The promises broken in the light of day a long time ago. 

“We broke up a long time ago, it’s fine.” A lie you tell him as much as you tell yourself. But it’s all he needs to go on. How he doesn’t know how to find time for her and she doesn’t understand it which he gets because she shouldn’t have to understand it. Everything seems to fall apart around him and he’s just trying to hold on to the pieces. 

“You know, when I came to New York. I thought I’d never find happiness. I was working two other jobs while trying to get the business up and running. I was living with roommates that I didn’t even know. I’d just lost you. I thought life would never be good again and that I’d made a huge mistake.” You stop to take a breath allowing yourself to think back at how miserable that time in your life had been. 

“But I pushed myself and when I felt like giving up, I pushed a little harder. Somewhere along the way I started to find balance. I quit one of the jobs, I got my own place,” you look over at him to find him staring at you already, “what I’m saying is just that it gets better. And I’m really sorry that it’s hard right now, but I know you can do it.” 

“You always had such faith in me,” he says. The two of you has stopped walking altogether and instead just stand and face each other. He looks beautiful as his features are illuminated by the lights. His hair is a little shorter than last time. The circles under his eyes have turned darker though and you catch yourself wondering if he gets enough sleep. 

“I still do. The whole reason for you staying in LA was because I knew you were meant for great things.” It’s a mistake to bring up the past because it makes your heart ache for him in a way it hasn’t for a long time. And with him standing so close now, you can hardly keep it together. 

“I wish you’d stayed.” It comes out a whisper, almost like he’s scared to say it. 

“Don’t say stuff like that,” you dismiss him not daring to let your mind imagine a present with you and David still together in LA. Is he leaning in? You can’t tell if you’re just hoping he’ll lean in or if he actually is. 

“Why not?” He’s definitely leaning in. And you want to say that no matter how things are between him and his girlfriend, he still has a girlfriend at home. But his cologne is overwhelming making you lose focus on what matters. Your heart is beating hard in your chest. It’s been too long since David’s been this close to you. Mere inches from your lips and there’s nothing left in the world except you and David. His warm breath giving you chills down his back. At one point your hands has found each other and intertwined. There was something you had to remember. But then you can feel his lips meet yours and the world implodes. All the clichés come to life; stars, fireworks, you see it all. 

“I’m sorry,” he says breaking up the kiss. He looks down at his ringing phone almost in shock. 

“Who is it?” you ask even though you already know the answer. And you feel horrible about yourself. 

“It’s my girlfriend.”

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

Tagging: @outerbnx-stiles​

[alderations]

you never changed, but i sure did

Nastya doesn’t know this, but she’s been floating in empty space for three years. (written for the @mechanismszine !)

Rating: T (for some swearing)

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Temporary Character Death, Post-Out, Memory Loss, Dissociation, Depersonalization, Angst with a Happy Ending

Nastya doesn’t know this, but she’s been floating in empty space for three years.

Nastya doesn’t know much of anything out here. Stars pierce the blankness, pricking her eyes like the tears that would form when it was too cold back home. It’s far too cold here, but her circuits, both metal and flesh, stopped processing that years ago.

She doesn’t have much to take in, between cycles of fading away and shivering back to life every so often when her mechanism can’t keep up with the crushing vacuum. There’s no logic to the moments of clarity in between her deaths, and maybe if she were aware of the anniversary of her self-imposed exile, she would resent it. Instead, her limited consciousness brings her back around to the same thought that’s haunted her since she stepped through the airlock doors: if the Aurora is no longer the Aurora, then who is she?

She’s had plenty of time to form an argument. At first, she would stare at the last remaining piece of her Aurora, mouthing her meaningless silence into the void, as if the tiny scrap of metal would answer her in saccharine Cyberian like the paradox her love always was. Now that Aurora is gone, she has no one to talk to, but she’s so frozen and so lonely that she can only cling to the same series of points.

So one more time, she asks: who is Nastya Rasputina?

A princess. Not remotely. She hasn’t been a princess since she took Carmilla’s hand, regardless of what her creator would say to her when soothing her girlish fears. A princess would have stood with her people when they needed her, rather than dying abhorred and forgotten. A princess was Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova, and Nastya shed that name the moment she had the chance. A princess probably should’ve been a good person. She never was.

Cyberian. Nastya’s heart shattered when she realized that her love could no longer answer her in their native language, but it’s not as if those same words stuck with eternal precision in Nastya’s mind. No matter how stubbornly she clings to the accent, she couldn’t remember all the parts of speech and verb tenses that her tutors made her memorize in her frigid interludes of reality. Had she and Aurora ever spoken real Cyberian to one another? She can’t remember, and the fuzzy emptiness where that knowledge should be scares her more than any of the possible answers.

A Mechanism. She played their music, she told their stories, she jumped headfirst into their pointless violence before her cold hands could stop their trembling. She said I don’t want to die and she suffered on an operating table just like the rest of them. And she knows that all of these things make her who she is, that all of these moments in her immeasurable life were the ones that defined it, but if she tries to put herself in her own shoes at any given point, she can’t remember what it was like to be that Nastya. It feels like she’s read her own biography cover-to-cover hundreds of times, but nowhere has the Nastya of the past reached out to remind her how it felt to live through it. Besides, she’s not like the rest of them—her mechanism has never been something discrete, something to separate from herself and love or revere or despise. For Nastya, Every capillary, every cell, aches with the knowledge that she’s not what she’s supposed to be, and no one understands this but her.

Dead. That one’s easy. Nastya Rasputina is dead, but not for long; she shudders back to life with a scream clawing at her teeth before she can ever really end.

Beloved.

She has been loved. Lots of things about her are fuzzy, some forgotten and some uncertain to begin with, but she knows that she’s been loved. Aurora lived in her veins, and Nastya in hers, and she remembers a Nastya who knew what it felt like to be loved so wholly that it was written into the fabric of her flesh. The rest of the crew loved her in their own ways—Ashes steadying her with an arm around her shoulders in crowded cities; Ivy listening and cataloguing every detail as she rambled about Cyberian machinery lost to the rest of the universe; Marius failing to school the awe out of his expression when she outplayed him on his own violin. And, always, Jonny hiding his affection behind a veneer of murder. Jonny, throwing Carmilla out of the airlock so she couldn’t hurt Nastya again. Jonny, crawling through miles of ducts and vents to find her when she went days without eating, even as he scowled at her and Aurora for being too sappy.  Jonny, bringing her trinkets and mementos every time she was too overwhelmed to stay planetside after a show. But Jonny watched her leave and did nothing to stop her. Now, who’s here to love her in the endless dark between stars? More importantly, who is she if not beloved?

Given all the evidence, there’s only one conclusion to make: she is no longer Nastya Rasputina. She has not been Nastya for a long time, probably even longer than she’s been floating in space. So even if her Aurora was still out there, still launching the Mechanisms from one tragedy to the next, she doesn’t deserve to be a part of that cycle.

The thought fades away, as always, moments before her lungs stop trying to breathe in the nothingness and she dies once again.

---

Needles prick every inch of her skin, inside and out, icy and blazing and unrelenting until she can’t draw in enough air to scream. Then there’s pressure, something cold-hot weighing down on her back, and light so harsh that she sees the afterimage of the stars that she’s stared at for decades, and sound. She can’t remember if she’s supposed to understand what’s happening. There’s no sound in the vacuum, but now she can hear every chirp and whisper and hum of the metal around her, and above all of it, a voice.

It’s been so long since she even remembered a voice.

“Get the fuck out of my way,” the voice barks, and Nastya only understands it because she’s been thinking in the same language this whole time, after all. There’s no resistance left in her, so she tries to move, only to slump to the ground. Was she standing? Strange. “Ashes, move. I said get out!”

The warm pressure on her back shifts, but doesn’t leave, and then something softer touches her face. Her body is faster to remember these things than her, but when she opens her mouth to reply, running on instinct and loneliness so deep it defines her, she can’t make a sound.

Another voice comes from somewhere farther away. “Be gentle, Jonny.”

“I am!” The blur in front of her moves in synchrony with the words. Jonny. Jonny. She’s supposed to feel something about that name. It’s not the name that aches inside her, deeper than her every conscious thought, but she should feel something about it. That feeling swirls under her surface, pushing at the edge of the emptiness that she’s made herself into, but she fades back out of reality before it can give itself a name.

---

“I rewinded to a few minutes before we pulled you in,” says Brian, prodding the screen with a gentle frown. “Are you sure about this?”

Nastya nods. “I—hm. Sorry.” She clears her throat, which she’s been doing every few minutes since she woke up, because even immortality isn’t enough to keep vocal cords working well after nearly a hundred years in space. “It’ll be… closure. At least.”

“Can I stay here with you?”

“Please,” she murmurs. He probably wouldn’t have left regardless, because they’re all afraid to leave her alone right now, but it matters that he asks. It matters that he takes her hand and runs a smooth brass thumb across her palm when she reaches out for comfort. Brian presses play, and the camera feed outside the airlock begins again.

Two minutes of silence, and then a cacophony of boots on metal and shouting and doors hissing open and closed as the crew realizes what’s about to happen. She still doesn’t know who actually tracked her down, who opened the airlock for her in the first place. By the time Ashes pounds on the keypad to open the inner door, Nastya is crumpled on the ground inside the airlock, skin waxy-pale and clothes filigreed with frost, and in the present her breath catches in her throat because she could swear she’s never seen that face before.

On the screen, Ashes drops to their knees and whips the coat off their back to wrap around Nastya, pulling her into their lap and squeezing her tight to their chest. There’s sound on the feed—muffled, but not enough to lose Jonny’s voice as he storms around the corner and shouts at Brian and Ivy to “get the fuck out of my way.” The body in Ashes’ arms flails hard enough that they nearly drop her, and Nastya catches a glimpse of her own face, etched into a frozen frown that makes her stomach go tight and uneasy. “Ashes, move. I said get out!”

Ashes lowers her to the floor, leaving their coat wrapped around her, and the Nastya on screen goes limp moments before Jonny throws himself down next to her and starts slapping her face. After a few seconds without a response, he lets out a scream of frustration as the other crew members back up to give him space. But for once his rage is contained, and he picks Nastya up instead, leaning his cheek against her forehead. She’s so much taller than him. Especially after a hundred years of space-vacuum spine decompression. Still, he’s practically jogging by the time he gets out of the airlock, the others following, and the door closes behind him on its own. The last thing Nastya fixates on is her own hand, limp and gray, dangling down from her body. It can’t be hers. She stares down at her hand in real life, but this one doesn’t look any more familiar.

“I s-still don’t know,” she starts, then pauses to close her eyes and take a deep breath when Brian turns to her. He’s so earnest sometimes, it’s hard to look at him head-on. “Who found me? Who got me out of space?”

Brian fidgets with the recording again. “I’m honestly not sure. Here, I can rewind farther—there was this… noise…”

Twenty minutes before the airlock opened. They watch a blank feed for a bit, Nastya’s hand trembling in Brian’s, and after a few minutes he sits down on the arm of the pilot’s chair and starts to stroke her hair. Every touch feels like a tiny shock, but she can’t stand the thought of him stopping. Then the sound comes from the camera feed—not an alarm, at least not one she’s heard before, and she is intimately familiar with Aurora’s standard operating signals. This is a wail, echoing from deep within the ship until the walls reverberate and everything pitches slightly to the left. A sharp turn, maybe? It probably shouldn’t show up on an internal camera like that, but that’s the least of Nastya’s concerns. “Was anyone on the bridge?”

“We can check,” Brian answers, hesitant. He pauses the feed and flips through the cameras—seven pods, kitchen, common room, bridge. Everyone is standing, apparently staring around in bewilderment, but no one is actively steering the ship. When Brian switches the feed again, it’s black.

They both stare at it for a second. “Engine room,” he reads off the top of the screen. “There… should be lights in there, yes?”

Nastya’s throat is too tight to speak. She hasn’t been down there—she’s barely been awake for half an hour, she’s not ready to come face-to-face with Aurora again. But she nods, and Brian presses play, and the wailing starts again, earsplitting even through the cameras. The video is still dark, but it’s clear that this is the closest they can get to the sound.

Of course it was Aurora. She didn’t need to see this to know, but she deserves this shattering ache in her chest, so she keeps watching. Brian apparently has other ideas, because he flips back to the airlock door again, and then switches the cameras to follow Nastya—in Jonny’s arms, and then Marius’s, and then lying on the sofa in the common room while Raphaella feels her forehead and the Toy Soldier bounces on its heels behind her—until she coughs half a dozen times and starts to wake up.

Through every moment, Nastya studies the face on the screen, recording every contour, every feature, every shadow. She can see the details, but when she tries to put them together, something isn’t right. “It’s not me,” she finally murmurs, leaning her head into Brian’s side. “I don’t—I can’t recognize… that person. That’s not me.”

“I can follow you all the way here on the cameras if you want—”

“No, I know,” she cuts him off, growing more insistent. “I know I’m wrong. I know, logically, that Aurora found me and plucked me out of space and you all dragged me inside and I’m here now and I’m fine now, but I don’t know that face, I can’t even recognize my hands in front of myself right now! I’m—I—I had almost a hundred years, according to Ivy, out there in space to think about it, and you know what I found out?”

Brian’s face is taut with concern when he looks down at her. “Nastya,” he pleads.

“I’m not Nastya. That’s what. I haven’t been—maybe I’ve never been Nastya, but I’m not now, and whatever the fuck I am is something that none of you know. Not Aurora, not even me. And they’re going to realize that, and what will they think then? How long will I have to watch you all mourn a Nastya who never existed every time you look at me?”

He stares down at her, mouth open but unable to form words, while she pulls her hand back to herself and curls up in the pilot’s chair, choking on a sob. There’s nothing to do but cry, when even Brian doesn’t know what to say and the camera feed keeps on going, inundating her with snapshots of a Nastya she never was. Shaky hands flicking the hair out of her face, shoulders brushing mindlessly against the walls of the ship, gaze fixed on Jonny’s ear so she doesn’t have to look him in the eyes. All of these things should add up to her, and instead she is empty.

There are thoughts building in the corners of her head, and she knows they’ll be dangerous if they can coalesce into words, but she can’t stop them. Jonny couldn’t, Ashes couldn’t, Brian can’t, Aurora—

As if she can hear Nastya thinking, a row of soft blue lights flickers on overhead. Nastya’s head snaps up, tears streaming down her temples, as every light in the room comes on in a wave, pulsing brilliant blue-white-golden over her and Brian, almost drowning out the stars ahead of them for a moment before they dim to something tolerable. When she knows she has Nastya’s attention, Aurora sings to her—sound traveling through the air, pulses of light, lines of code transmitted from the thrum of the metal underneath her and into her blood, carrying a thousand rehearsals of the same message.

I don’t care whether you’re the same Nastya, or whether I’m the same Aurora. I will get to know you again every time you wake up. I will love the person I meet more with every day. I am the one who loves you, and you are the one who loves me, and we belong here.

Nastya is crying too hard to form words, but Aurora’s song reassures her that she has nothing to defend. “Do you… want me to leave you two alone?” Brian interrupts, gesturing at the door.

It takes another minute for Nastya to calm down enough to answer him, but in that time, her hands find the control panel and, trembling, tap stream-of-consciousness binary into the metal until she knows that Aurora has once again heard her heart. “No,” she manages at last. “No, I want my family.”

Brian sweeps her into a hug, and the rest of the crew aren’t far behind.

[empteygold]

Clockwork (1)

Summary: It was just like any other Sunday, you were on your way out to meet your two best friends for coffee. It’s been a tradition ever since you all began high school. Now you’re all graduated and your two best friends have officially become pro hero’s. You on the other hand, just lived a regular life as you were quirkless, or so you had thought.

Genre: Angst with a little fluff. It’s not much but things will progress as this fic goes on

Cw: Cursing, talks of depression

Notes: Hi guys, thanks for reading, this is the first fic i have written and the first time in a long time since i have written anything. I have plans for this fic and it will evolve so i hope you stat tuned. 

The warm sunlight peeking through your window slowly awoke you from your slumber. You had spent all night tossing and turning. Once you had finally fallen asleep, the sweet bliss was snatched away from you. As a child you remember having recurring nightmares, and now those nightmares were starting to resurface. You weren’t sure as of why they were coming back, since it has been many years since you’ve experienced any form of dreaming. 

Not being able to fall back to sleep, you slowly took your time and finally managed to get out of bed. You reached for an oversized hoodie, one you had stolen from your childhood best friend years ago. It gave you comfort. You remember how when you first got it, it smelled like smoke and sweat. It was all he had on him, but you were cold, so he did what he could do. You never gave it back.

 As you got up you made your way to the restroom fuzzily trying to remember your dreams last night. You couldn’t quite shake the feeling of the agonizing pit in your stomach. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but your nightmare had felt so realistic. It gave you a sense of déjà vu, like you have been here many times before. It felt familiar and warm, but it also made you sick to your stomach. 

You decided to hop in the shower, trying your hardest to push down these feelings. You set the water to an almost boiling temperature thinking it would help. As you stood in the shower crying you suddenly remembered, it was Sunday. Suddenly you felt that ache slowly go away, and you felt a little more at ease. Every Sunday you had a tradition of meeting your two best friends whom you have known the entirety of your life. While you may have known each other longer than you can actually remember, you didn’t actually decide to start this tradition until you started high school.

******

You, Izuku, and Bakugo were completely inseparable up until you all started high school. Both Bakugo and Izuku had gotten into UA, the best school to become a pro-hero. However, you just went to a plain old high school, as you never inherited a quirk of your own. As children you and Izuku had a closer relationship than the one between you and Bakugo. Two best friends basically conjoined at the hip. Izuku was also quirk-less at the time. You all thought he would never get one and that’s how you stayed so close. Two quirk-less best friends. 

Bakugo got his explosion quirk young and spent more time with kids who had quirks. Izuku was always hell bent on becoming a hero even without a quirk of his own. The day Izuku received his quirk you and Bakugo were in complete and udder shock. You weren’t surprised though, you had a gut wrenching feeling that a quirk would arise in him someday. The boys were concerned about you making sure you were okay as you still didn’t have a quirk. You were very content with not having one, and it never really crossed your mind on what you would do if you had ever gotten one. 

You never considered yourself a bad person, but you didn’t considerer yourself a good one either. Saving people in a heroic way seemed distasteful to you. The only downside of not having a quirk of your own meant not being able to see your beloved best friends as much as you would have liked. Hero training and regular study courses at UA made things very chaotic and hectic for the boys. There was little time for you, and you slowly began to fade from their life’s. During this time period, you had struggled with some major personal issues and not being able to see your friends and have someone to vent to made you spiral into an overwhelming depression.

  It had been months since you’ve seen the boys, Bakugo was home for fall vacation and Izuku was out somewhere doing something you weren’t too sure of at the time. Bakugo had called you up and it was so nice to hear his voice. It was low and stoic instead of chaotic how it usually was. When you picked up he could immediately tell something was bothering you and asked if you were free to hangout. 

You met Bakugo at a café in town that was in the middle of UA and your academy. It was a Sunday morning, there was a crisp breeze and leaving of different colors falling around you. The walk was somber your mind kept wandering not being able to control your feelings or thoughts. You kept picking at your scarf as you were over thinking. As you got closer to the café the smell of freshly roasted coffee beans and sweet pastries calmed you down.

 Once you entered the café you immediately saw Bakugo. He looked nervous for some reason, but his expression changed immediately once his eyes met yours. “What’s with that face Kacchan?” you smirked with a flirty tone. ‘Well good morning to you too dumbass. If you must know, I’m just happy to see you.” Bakugo was only sweet when it came to you, he would never let anyone see him like this. Not even Izuku. While you could tell his feeling were genuine you felt as if he was hiding something. “I didn’t order yet, I don’t exactly know what you like.” He mumbled in a soft tone. 

You ordered something new, something you saw one of your favorite American celebrity order in an movie you had to watch for a school project. “I’ll have an oat milk latte with vanilla and hazelnut please.”  Bakugo looked at you with a slightly confused face. “I’ll have that too I guess” he stated. You knew Bakugo too well and knew he wouldn’t like it. “Actually, just give him an Americano with vanilla and hazelnut” you smirked back at him “Trust me.” Bakugo was quite impressed with your drink choice even though he didn’t admit it, you could see the smile after his first sip.

  You spent the next couple hours catching up, as you realized the time you informed him how you needing to get going. Even though it was fall break you had multiple assignments to catch up on as you were basically failing every single one of your classes. You tended to procrastinate as it was Sunday you had to finish it all by tonight. Bakugo was very displeased in hearing this as he is a top student and knew how much potential you really had.

 Upon hearing about what has been going on in your life and how you aren’t doing well in school he decided then and there that every Sunday he would make time for you. He would meet you in this café and he would check on your studies, and even help tutor you. He felt so guilty for not having spent time with you. As he was telling you his plan for the next coming Sunday his little surprised came and plopped down right beside you. “DEKU” you just about cried seeing your two favorite boys together again. Kacchan went ahead and told him his plan and Deku insisted he come along every Sunday as well. Three best friends back together again, and that’s how your Sunday traditions began.

******

After a long-deserved shower, you made your way to your closet, while you knew it was Sunday and the plans to meet with friends was already set in motion, you couldn’t be bothered to put on anything to fancy. Your body still ached from the night before. The fumbling in bed and the jerk of your body as you came pummeling down from your nightmares really put a strain on your body and mind.

 A simple pair of leggings and Kacchan’s oversized hoodie seemed to be just fine. Making your way through your apartment, the coldness of the floor made you shiver. As you went back into the restroom to finish getting ready, the image in the mirror startled you. It’s been years since you’ve felt like this. The nightmares bringing up repressed memories and feelings you’ve buried long ago. 

The bags under your eyes seem darker than normal and it doesn’t seem like a cup of coffee can help you fix this one. You looked back at your reflection, disappointed in what was looking back and sighed “I swear we’ve been here before, and you can’t go back to feeling like this. Pull yourself together. If not for yourself do it for Bakugo, you know he wouldn’t want to see you like this.” With a little self-deprecation and your pep talk you managed to get ready for the day.

 You’re usually known to wear bold eye looks but today you went with something a little softer. A muted brown Smokey eye with a sharp wing liner. As you made your way to your front door, you put on your favorite pair of combat boots. You wore them everywhere, they were in tatters and barley hanging on by a thread, but you loved them more than anything. Upon leaving you felt a slight breeze graze your face.

*Bzzzz bzzzz* You grab your phone from your pocket and answer “Hello?” you mustered up the nerve to get it out as you were not in the mood to be speaking to anyone right at this moment. Once you heard it was Bakugo you felt more reassured. ‘Hey dumbass, where are you?” You didn’t realize the time and how late you had been running all along. “Oh my god Kacchan I am so sorry, I totally forgot about our plans today” a slight hint of sarcasm rolled of your tongue.  ‘YOU WHAT” it sounded far more disappointing then angry.” Nah I’m just fucking with you dummy, turn around” There he stood, his sadden eyes igniting at your sight. 

This man had the purest crimson red eyes, they matched the fire within in soul.  He was beautiful but in the way forest fires were beautiful. He may be destructive, but he did it in the most alluring way. Bakugo made his way towards you wrapping his arms around your waist, you were never one for personal touch even hugs with people you considered your friends was hard for you. With him you felt comfortable, safe even. There was always an unspoken bond between the two of you, after a certain night back in high school but Bakugo would never make the first move and neither would you. 

You’ve never held on to him so long in your life. He never once complained though, he just held you until you decided to let go. As the hug came to an end he could sense the tenseness in your body. Your eyes didn’t have the same sheen to them as they usually do. Even though you were wearing makeup he could see the puffiness that still remained. A thumb landed on the apple of your check and slowly rubbed circles into it.

 Bakugo let out a small sigh “Oi, I forgot to tell you, Deku won’t be meeting us here today, He’s on a mission and we don’t know when he will be back” A small flash of sadness overcame your face as you would have really enjoyed seeing Izuku, but you understood he had responsibilities as a pro hero. Suddenly your thoughts were interrupted as the barista shouted out your order. You hadn’t realized that Kacchan had already ordered. “Oat milk latte with vanilla and hazelnut and an americano with vanilla and hazelnut for Bakugo and (Y/N).” He was absolutely hooked on that flavor combo since you introduced it to him quite some time ago.

 The Barista knew you all by name as they have been working here just as long as you have been coming to this café. Upon receiving your drinks, you make your way to your favorite booth in the corner. It’s hidden away from everyone, it’s nicely lit, and you can see everything happening around you. You’ve always liked to be aware of your soundings in any situations.

 Bakugo stares at you intensely, you know exactly where this is going. You take in a deep breath and sigh as he continued to ask you if you were alright. At first, you’re very hesitant but with sweaty hands and a quivering lip you look up and speak. “They’re back Kacchan. My nightmares, they’re back.” The amount of shock of his face was agonizing to see, he still remembers how bad they used to get. 

Your nightmares would get to the point where you would call bakugo in the middle of the night screaming and crying because of how real the dreams felt.  On days he could, he would sneak out of UA and come to comfort you. He would stay by your side and hold until you calmed down and slowly drifted back to sleep. It was so utterly heartbreaking for him to see you, his best friend so broken and scared. Some days he wouldn’t be able to sneak out but even then he would facetime you until you fell asleep and would stay on until the sun rose. No one ever knew about this not even Izuku. 

As you and Bakugo grew closer you and Deku started to slowly drift apart. Izuku only really cared about becoming a hero and his new friends. He spent all of his time with them training and even doing all the stuff you used to do. It made you feel thrown aside and unappreciated. Just because you didn’t have a quirk didn’t mean you still couldn’t hang out with him anymore. For someone who went most of his life unnoticed and quirk less you though he would understand how you felt but he really didn’t. Bakugo on the other hand made some new friends and they’re all really great but thankfully he always made time for you.

  Bakugo looks up into your eyes glossed over as tears start to form in the corners, he lays his hands atop yours. (Y/N) are you okay, do you know what triggered them to comeback?” He was quiet, worried about the response you may give him. You stare into his eyes thinking of your response, you didn’t know what to tell him. These nightmares you had were the same as they used to be. He’s already heard what happens. Images and scenes of you and the people you love dying in the most gruesome way. So detailed oriented as if they were memories you had once lived. Recently it has been the same recurring dream but last night, there were minor inconsistencies. 

“They’re the same Kacchan, I keep seeing myself and everyone around me die, but the worst part is how real they feel.” As you explained your most current dream to him you could see him become teary eyed. This was a dream that has made you feel so uneasy. This was a dream you had consistently back when you were younger. It started with you walking down an unfamiliar street in an unfamiliar neighborhood. There was nothing unusual about it. You would always pass a thriving Onigiri shop, A couple dogs on a walk and even pass by the most beautiful flower shop. As you come to an intersection waiting to cross the road when you suddenly trip. You fly head first into oncoming traffic and the way your body id torn apart is appalling.

 While you only tell Bakugo the dream ends with you being hit, you don’t go into graphic detail not wanting to worry him more than you should. The strangest part is it always felt intentional, like someone was trailing you. You always felt eyes on you, and even though you never knew how to explain it you described them to be eyes that stared into your soul. You saw galaxies floating around in those eyes, just like clockworks. You always heard ticking in the back of your mind. Was it a count down? Why was this all you could now think about.

 As your mind came back to the realization you were talking to bakugo he let you know that he will always be there for you and in the end, things would be okay. He tried his hardest for you, but deep down you knew he would never understand. As the morning passes by your usually meeting is cut short as Bakugo was summoned to help out in crime that had gotten out of town downtown. You said your goodbyes and headed your separate ways.

As you headed home you decided to take a new route, a longer way home as you still wanted some time to yourself to reflect on everything happening. The walk was cold, but the sunlight made it bearable. The leaves were changing beautiful colors and were slowly falling. You took in the air around you as autumn was your favorite season of the year. Making your way farther into the neighborhood, you stopped as that heavy and unsettling feeling resurfaced. 

You tried to ignore it but as you made your way farther down the street you stop and stared to the building on coming up your right you notice the sign decomposing and falling apart. “Onigiri….” You were in shock, but the place looks like it’s been shut down for years, abandoned even. You continued on your way, but the unsettling feeling kept growing. You next find yourself in front of a flower shop. The flowers are all dead, and the store window was smashed to shreds. Maybe it was a quirk gone wrong. “This has to be a coincidence” you say to yourself trying to believe your own words.

 Suddenly you see it, someone walking two dogs passing you. You’re in a trance, panicking not understanding what’s happening and why you’re seeing everything you saw in your dreams. Without thinking you start running down the street. For a slight moment you glance back, to make sure no one was trailing you. As soon as you turned around you felt it, someone had pushed you right into oncoming traffic.

 As you look up while you fall you finally see her. A woman with galaxies in her eyes, was that apart of her quirk you wonder as you watch her disappear. As you’re falling you hear the ticking of clocks and see a bus heading for you. “This is it, this is how I die isn’t it?” You slowly begin to sob only wishing you had held on a little tighter to bakugo today. As you fall to the ground you’re stuck looking at the bus like a deer in headlights, when suddenly everything around you comes to a complete stop.

 As you’re heaving and trying to catch your breath you look around for a hero who may have been the cause for what’s happening. You’ve heard of hero’s who can slow objects and time around them for short periods of time but a hero who could stop time completely it was unheard of. There was no one in sight, how could that be you wondered to yourself. As you started getting up you heard the ticking of the clock speeding up, for some reason you knew this meant time would be returning to normal, you made your way back to the sidewalk. 

You stared at awe at the street where you just about died. You were quirk-less all your life, or so you thought.

[dolphindiluna]

𝗜 𝗪𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗡𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗕𝗲 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗦𝗮𝗺𝗲 The cell continued to ring. He should talk to Sam, let him know that he was alive. He laughed bitterly at the thought, was he really alive? He didn't feel that way. He was flesh, bones, tears and blood. But alive? No. Living had just taken on another dimension. The point is that he died so many times that he lost count, but for the first time he knew what it was to really die, this death that people talk about, death in life.

How many important people fell on the way?

His mind returned to the day of his mother's death. Even though he was not in his room that day, his father had counted on so many details, on a night of drunkenness, that he didn't even need to see with his eyes, his mind "saw" much more than he wanted.

Then the father. That father obsessed with killing the damn demon who took the life of his beloved wife. The father who raised his children to save people, hunting things, the family business. The father absent for loving too much.

And Ellen and Jo. Pamela, Bob, Kevin, Charlie. And so many others. Many…

And again the father and mother.

And Sam. Each time he lost his brother, a piece of him died together. Sam, who kept calling over and over.

- Sam, I'm fine.

- Dean! What happened? Why did it take so long to answer the phone?

- Sorry, Sammy. Are you ok?

He heard the sound of his brother swallowing the words, those few seconds hanging over them like a sharp sword. Dean knew, he always knew.

- Sammy?

- Dean, everybody's gone, everybody. Charlie, Bob and even Donna. It's just me and Jack.

The brother's voice was weak. Sam who was so dedicated to protecting everyone, even with the weight of Eileen's loss on his shoulders. He wanted to hug him. He wished he could go back in time when he carried Sam in his boyish arms and rocked him, promising to protect him from danger. "Take care of your brother, Dean" had been the main task his father had given him, and he, as a good soldier, never deviated from his mission. Taking care of Sam, protecting him, was what gave him the strength to get up every morning.

- Sammy, come home.

- Dean, is everything okay? What happened to Billie?

- Billie is dead. You and Jack, come home soon.

- Okay, Dean.

He hung up the phone and put his hands on his face again. He was not able to tell Sam the whole truth, because telling what happened was having to face reality, and he was not yet ready to say goodbye.

The silence in the dungeon choked him, but he didn't have the strength to leave. Maybe he didn't want to leave. Somewhere in his heart, a fragile flame continued to resist. He looked at the wall, hoping the black hole would regurgitate what The Empty had stolen from him.

"I annoyed an ancient cosmic being so much that he sent me back."

Dean remembered those words as if they were said yesterday. He clung to them in despair. But deep down, he knew, he knew that The Empty would not give up again.

Why didn't he tell the truth? Why?

Why did he push his feelings into some dark corner of himself, not even allowing himself to think?

Why didn't he give himself the right to believe that he could be loved, be happy?

All that fury that has weighed on his chest since childhood, that anger that he thought defined him.

"Everything you have ever done, the good and the bad, you have done for love."

Even now he couldn't see himself that way, because that meant he was always a coward for not having struggled to take on what he felt.

Coward. He had been a coward until the end. And now he paid the price for being afraid to say the same words he had received.

The chest pain increased. He needed to get out of there, he needed to breathe. Shivering, using the wall as a support, he stood up slowly. The first steps were unstable. He managed to reach the chair in the middle of the room, held it in search of something solid to keep him on his feet until he felt he could walk without fear of falling.

When he finally reached the door, he couldn't resist and looked back again. That flame in his chest had just gone out. The pain increased, crushing his heart.

"You changed me, Dean ... I love you."

He ran out of the room, his hand over his mouth to stifle his sob.

He didn't want to be that anymore. He no longer wanted to be the Dean who assumed all the responsibilities and suppressed any feeling that his enemies could use against him. He was tired of being strong, of trying to be invincible.

He heard Sam calling for him. He needed his brother, needed this time to reverse logic, needed Sam to take care of him, to protect him from pain.

- Sammy.

Your voice so weak, so different from your voice of thunder.

- Sammy, Sammy!

He arrived at the library without strength. His brother was near the big table in the lobby.

- Sammy, please.

Sam ran towards him, followed closely by Jack. His frightened eyes were filled with concern. There, in the center of the library, the two came face to face.

He couldn't take it anymore, everything around him spun. He saw Cass in every corner of that place. Cass hugging him when they met after Chuck and Amara left. Cass sitting next to him in one of the few moments of peace, celebrating Jack's life.

Cass, smiling through her tears, saying goodbye to never come back.

- He's gone, Sammy.

Finally, the heavy tears broke through the barrier and he fell to the floor. The weight of defeat weighed on his body. He punched his chest several times in penance.

Sam didn't know what had happened, but he suspected it had to do with Castiel's absence. He knelt in front of his brother, pulling him into his arms. He always feared that this day would come, the day when Dean would accept his own feelings, but that Cass would not be there to receive them.

- He's gone, Sammy, gone. And I didn't say. I didn't say, Sammy.

- Put it all out, Dean, don't keep it anymore.

The brother's words allowed him to be the Dean that Castiel once loved.

- CASS!

The aching cry tore at his chest.

Jack watched his parents' pain and felt powerless because there was nothing he could do. All he wanted to do was bring Cass back, but he had no more powers. He no longer had Castiel. His father had died.

The strength with which the angel's name was said in that place full of magic, had the power to transcend the walls and resonate beyond that plane. In heaven, the angels wept for the loss of yet another of them. Castiel had been a friend and also an enemy, in the end being just another puppet in the hands of God.

In hell, Rowena stopped in the middle of a lustful laugh. His eyes watered. After all, the angel also became his boy.

But it was Chuck who was pierced by that spear of pain. He, who in his arrogance despised his own creations, who played with their lives, now felt the agony with such violence that it surprised him. In her mind, Amara's voice, full of bitterness, prophesied:

- Brother, you can lie to yourself as much as you want. But the truth is that you lost your most loyal son, the one who loved you so much, the one you wickedly despised. And I know it hurts you. We feel Dean's pain. And as long as we exist, we will carry that pain as a reminder of how bad we can be.

Chuck turned his eyes to Dean and for a moment hesitated in his firm intention to destroy everything. The weight of loneliness as a reminder of your choices. Sitting on his mythical throne, he was the image of a defeated god.

In the library, Dean continues to cry hugging his brother, his face buried in Sam's chest. It was sad to see that they had switched places, Sammy was taking care of Dean as Dean had always done for him.

- Dean, you need to vent, you can't have all that feeling with you anymore.

The pain, like fire, rose in his throat and was finally released.

- Cass, you are the only one I want to have, my true happiness. Cass, I love you ...

Words can transform. Words heal.

In The Empty, where angels and demons rest, dreaming eternally of their past, Castiel, in his serene sleep, dreams of the words he wanted to hear so much. His lips curl in an affable smile, while a tear escapes his sleeping eyes.

- I always knew, Dean … ----------------------------------------------------------------------------  I wrote this story a few days after the episode aired, listening to "I Will Never Be The Same" (which became the title of this story) by Melissa Etheridge, because this song, for me, is the synthesis of what happened to these two characters. These were, as they have been ever since, days of sadness and anxiety. The question the fandom keeps asking itself: is it really the end? Did the series make Destiel canon to kill Castiel soon after? As a fan, especially as a fan of Destiel, I am still waiting for the return of our beloved angel in the last episode, to finally find happiness with the man she loves. Because these two definitely deserve to be happy after everything they've been through. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------  English is not my first language. Please forgive any mistakes I may have made. And I don't know whose illustration it is. If anyone knows, please let me know so I can give the artist proper credit.

[hyanikaa]

Chapter 4 • The Unspoken Incident

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

WARNING//(Gore, Injury, Violence, Mentions of Trauma)

Memey decided he had to lie. He had to lie to save Tbh, to save the one person who'd cared for his well being. He rammed his body into the door until it broke through, equipping the superhuman strength that Kooki had given to him as a sorry. He picked up Tbh and ran to Medbay, slamming open the door and turning on the light, waking everyone up. "Urggh... who the- MEMEY??? How the- oh my god, TBH!!" Laff shrieked, getting out of the bed and picking up Tbh. "What happened???" Joocie asked, putting two fingers on Tbh's neck to search for a pulse. "I- I don't know, I woke up and Tbh was on the floor, and- and I think I broke through the door!" Memey sobbed, watching as Joocie nodded as Laff put Tbh on a bed. "He's still alive. Quickly, he's losing blood!" Dino and Blaza quickly went to help with the frantic group. Socks handed Memey a cookie to satisfy the monster for longer, offering a small and insincere grin. Hours has passed and TBH is now conscious, he opened his eyes, only to be blinded by the lights so he quickly closed his eyes, not letting any of the blinding light surge his sight. He opened his eyes once again, this time with more caution, he looked around the bright area he was in, he's in Medbay, on a bed, resting and healing. Has it always been this bright in Medbay? He thought, he looked to his sides to see was beside him, it was the teen with the iconic double top hats. But he stopped looking at his sides as it brought pain into his head. Why was he here? What happened? Why is he injured, nothing happened while he and Memey were exploring, right? "Oh, thank god you're awake," Nadwe sat up taller, resting both of his hands on his sheets. Tbh looked up at the pearly ceiling. "W-what... happened...?" Tbh asked, his head pounding with a grinding headache. "Everything... hurts..." His body was on fire. Every muscle, every joint, every organ system in his body was aching to the core. "Memey broke out of security somehow. He said when he came to, he'd attacked you. We need to get stronger doors." Tbh nodded. Obviously it was a blatant lie, but he appreciated Memey covering for him. "Memey brought you in super late. Woke all of us up and absolutely terrified me when you were bleeding in his arms. Blunt force trauma to the head, bites on your limbs, a part missing from your torso..." Nadwe talked like a doctor. Usually Memey would be the one, but he wasn't in the room, having long been sent back to security to watch his friends have fun without him. "But you've gotta be more careful, each day we draw closer to Polus." "Where are the others?" TB asked, "It's working hours right now, so everyone is doing and finishing their daily assigned tasks." The pink man replied. "Oh, so I should go and do my tasks too-" "No no no crab man, you are not going anywhere, that thing did a lot of damage on your body." The teen scolded. "Never knew I'll get scolded by a child." TB joked. "Well I wouldn't have scolded you if you didn't decide to rush out of bed." Nadwe replied. —— Blaza wandered the halls of the Skeld. He'd just finished divert power in shields. He looped around to Reactor, slamming his head on the Start Reactor panel as the buttons began to flash red. He let out a groan and started over, watching the buttons flash on screen. Suddenly, he heard something banging against the wall in Sceurity that made him mistap and start over again. He sighed in frustration and knocked on Security doors. "Memey? Everything all right in there?" No response came. Blaza wore a worried expression as the silence somehow grew louder. He sighed and started back towards reactor. The doors behind him smashed open suddenly, causing the red lights of emergency to flash on and start blaring.

He whipped his head around seeing the blue creature with eyes sprouted around an open slit for a mouth. Uneven and sharp teeth jutted out of the mouth, black slimy tentacles reaching towards him somewhere in the back. Adrenaline rushed the insides of Blaza, his first instinct was to jump and hide in the vents, 'no' he said to himself, it takes way too long to get inside, too risky. He just has to run. So he did.

He bolted out of the hallway running for his life, Cafeteria is right there, he can make, if he close the doors now, he could escape and live. Why doesn't he want to die? He'll just respawn like the rest. He shoved his thoughts away as he reached the hallways between the Engine and Cafeteria. He's there, he can be safe, he can get away. He just has to—-

His thoughts blacked out, silence filled the hallways, the doors around them closed shut, he let his guard down. Blaza looked down, he was held up in the air, blood dripping from his mouth and open wound- Open wound? Right...He was held up, one of the blue creature's tentacles impaled him, hanging him up in the air. He choked on his own blood. The corners of his sight started to blur and darken. Is this how it felt to die by the hands of your fellow Imposter?

Laff wasn't ready for what he'd seen. Laff wasn't ready at all. Not after experiencing it himself. Blaza came running in through the left door, reaching for the button in vain as a black spike stick through his body. Laff covered his mouth to hold in a scream, ducking under a Cafeteria table and watching as tears started to leave his eyes. His eyes widened in terror as the blue creatures stepped into view, tossing Blaza unceremoniously to the side like a rag doll. The body made a loud thump as it slid closer to Laff. The feet of the monster stood still, its tentacles forever moving as it looked around. Finally, when it determined that no one was in view, it turned around and left, leaving a line of blood smearing and scattering across the hallway. Laff waited another few seconds to make sure it was gone before opening his mouth and letting out a sob. The sob became multiple cries, until he was full on having a breakdown. He looked at Blaza, not wanting to see his expression.

Laff just sat there under the table, not wanting to move at all, this is too much, this is too much for him. He's seen his friends die and get revived before, but this was different. This wasn't child's play, they weren't just playfully pestering each other, no, it was serious this time. There's a monster inside one of his friends, and he felt all kinds of emotions just thinking about it. Anger, grief, pity, guilt, he felt it all. He couldn't handle the pain any longer, this creature wasn't killing for fun, this creature wasn't the friend they thought they knew. And that thought hurt him. He just stayed there, unable to look behind the lifeless corpse. He knows Blaza is okay, he's healing, he's fine. But he still worries, he worries it'll come back for him. He's scared and he can't help it. He let out another sob, this time more quiet.

He has decided. Unclasping his mask, he wiped the tears that flooded his face. He ran into Medbay where Nadwe, TBH were. No sign of Blaza still... he grabbed a medkit and made his way to where the creature was. He can't just hide and do nothing but cry, he needs to help his friend. He needs to help Memey. He needs to help stop their suffering, one way or another.

——

Word count: 1324

A very Laff-centered chapter, but who cares?-

I feel very bad for his character hbjdjasd

Also- Blaza's dead, he aint gonna respawn ;)

[deathonyourtongue]

They Would Try

Summary:  The color has washed out of everyday life, and it’s the routine that keeps him going. Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader Word Count: 2.2K Warnings: HEAVY angst. Description of some palliative care procedures. A/N: You know the drill. Sorry in advance. Bring the tissues. The song for this one is The Wisp Sings - Winter Aid ____________________________________

Let me sleep I am tired of my grief And I would like you To love me, to love me, to love me

Men deal with grief in different ways. Some choose the path of anger and violence, lashing out at anyone and everyone, bringing about their own demise because they cannot release their hearts. Others choose to martyr their feelings, vowing never to love again, forever shutting the door in the wall they’ve built around their hearts. Rarely, a man will choose persistent kindness. 

Having suffered the great blow to his heart, he will treat others with unfailing gentility, understanding that everyone has their plight and that everyone, in some way, is grieving. It’s the sort of kindness that makes it clear the man providing it is permanently broken, his heart shattered. Most who are privy to it, are able to feel the anguish coming off such a man in waves; I’ve been hurt before, please do not hurt me again, for I cannot take another blow. The kindness in and of itself is a shield, a way of pretending to be okay when one is clearly not. Of all the ways to cope, it is the most heartbreaking.

His days are routine now, a small comfort in a world that no longer truly holds any interest. The color has washed out of everyday life, and it’s the routine that keeps him going. Knowing the things he must do, make it possible to get out of bed every morning. 

When the alarm goes off quietly, he rolls over, eyes still closed, willing himself to make it through the day without tears. Happiness has long since removed itself from his vocabulary, and it’s rare that he does not find himself wiping his eyes either due to constant, dull ache in his heart or at the sight of something that sparks a memory of a time when he could laugh and smile. Mostly, the tears come in the quiet hours, when there’s no one watching with concern pouring out of every fiber of their being. He does his best to cry in private, but sometimes it can’t be helped and he finds his shoulders shaking as he nuzzles into your shoulder, the tears always silent. One of the doctors said it was best to not be upset, lest it aggravate the situation, and it’s something he’s taken to heart ever since. 

A quick shower is the first must on the to-do list. In and out only to maintain basic hygiene so as to pass the inspections he knows are always being conducted, even if he’s told to the contrary. Fresh clothing completes the ritual, leaving him free to take care of more important matters. 

The curtains are opened along with the windows to circulate the air lest the room grows stale and once a week, the sheets are changed. The birds singing help him remember better times and often, he has to stop in his tracks and curl in on himself, heart aching for what it can no longer have. 

His hair’s grown substantially since that first day, and though he’s perpetually asked to take a day for himself, to go get a cut and a shave, he can’t bring himself to leave. His full attention is required and nothing can get in the way of that, least of all something so self-serving. 

It’s been two years since he came home to find you in Nightingale. Two years since he learned the horrors of what you went through on your own. Two years since he came home to find the bed soaked in your blood. 

Two years since he last heard you speak. 

Henry’s best friend is growing impatient. It’s been long enough. Too long, if you ask him. 

“Don’t you think it’s time you moved on, mate? I mean, you’ve given up your career, you rarely leave the house, and at family things, you’re a downright stick-in-the-mud! It’s time for you to let go, to let her be taken care of by professionals somewhere, and go on with your life!” He vents to Henry one morning, having barged in shortly after breakfast. 

Henry looks stung, words unable to describe what he truly wants to say in his heart of hearts. He doesn’t need to speak, however, as your nurse, Kathy, hears the whole thing. Incensed, she has to take a moment to collect her thoughts before stepping into the room. 

“Pardon me, Jonathan, but did I just hear you ask Henry to let go of his wife so he can, what, go back to whatever life it is you approve of better? Shame on you. Have you no heart?”

“Of course I do! I just...He’s wasting his life laying here next to her, crying himself to sleep and wishing for things to change, when it’s clear they won’t. She’s not coming out of this-this catatonia or whatever it is. She’s a vegetable that can breathe, that’s it. He...I just don’t want him to spend the rest of his life moping here next to her, willing things to go back as they were. It’s not healthy.” 

“Would you say the same if it were your own wife, sir? Or heaven forbid, your mother or sister?” Kathy asks, eyes wide in disbelief, her hands shaking in ire. 

“I would, yes! It’s not like he’s even doing anything. He just lays there all day, gazing sadly at her. All her care is provided by you, is it not? He’s wasting the prime of his life, all because he--” 

“Actually, sir,” Kathy interjects, clearing her throat and blocking what she knows will be too painful a sentence for anyone to hear. “Mr. Cavill does 99% of her care on his own. I only visit once every two weeks to update her chart and help with certain dressings that are hard to manage on one’s own.” 

“Dressings?” Jonathan balks, not understanding in the slightest. 

“She gets bedsores, despite...Despite my best attempts,” Henry finally speaks, his voice hoarse from lack of use. There’s shame in his eyes and even as Kathy rubs his shoulders, it’s clear that it’s a touchy subject. 

“Mr. Taylor, why don’t you sit a while? Keep your friend company so you can better understand what he does all day,” Kathy suggests through gritted teeth, her tone making it clear that it’s a demand, more than an invite. Henry manages a small smile of thanks to Kathy, hoping this will put any protests as to why he’s chosen to put his life on hold, permanently to rest. 

“When you’re ready, son,” Kathy nods, watching as Henry moves to your side, kneeling next to you on the bed. Tucking his head down, he whispers to you tenderly, his tone apologetic and full of regret. 

“We have to change your dressings, love. We’ll be as quick as we can. I’m so sorry.” Henry’s snuffles, his voice pinched with emotion and when he lifts his head again, tears fill his eyes, though they stubbornly refuse to fall. 

Jonathan is appropriately horrified when he sees what’s beneath the old dressing on your lower back; Your groan of pain certainly doesn’t help matters. 

“Looks much better, Henry. It should heal completely within the week,” Kathy says softly, her smile encouraging and understanding. Henry only nods, his breathing shallow and erratic as he waits for it to be over so he can tuck you back in. 

“Everything’s in order, love. Do you need me to stay?” Kathy asks, eyeing Jonathan with disdain, not trusting him to open his mouth and say something utterly heartless after she’s left. 

“We’re all good on this front, Kathy. Thank you, as always.” Henry shakes his head, giving her the same smile that breaks her heart each time she visits. Kind but filled with anguish, the feigned happiness never reaches his blue eyes, and she thinks of her own son, vowing to check in with him when she gets home. 

Henry smoothes your hair away from your face with a gentle hand, a soft kiss to your forehead following after. He takes a moment to collect himself before moving off the bed and around to the side closest to Jonathan. 

“W-what are you doing?” His friend asks, leaning forward in his seat, trying to see what Henry is pulling out of a mini-fridge that now serves as your nightstand. Henry doesn’t say a word, knowing Jonathan’s question will be answered in time. Two syringes, one pre-filled with saline and the other with a pinkish-brown liquid, are set on top of your sheets, and Henry pulls a chair close to your bed, snapping on a fresh pair of gloves after pulling the sheets down far enough. With the utmost care, he inserts the second syringe, the procedure becoming apparent to Jonathan by the look on his face. 

“She can’t eat on her own. We tried assisted feeding for a bit in the beginning, but it didn’t work,” Henry explains, his tears gone as he focuses on pushing the contents slowly through the tube that had long ago been inserted directly into your GI tract. When your meal is done, Henry flushes the line with saline, and covers you back up, albeit momentarily. 

By the time he’s done your morning routine, which includes two more procedures Jonathan couldn’t imagine doing, not even for a loved one, Henry’s friend is beside himself, tears of regret streaming down his face. Henry takes it in stride, knowing that no one, save maybe for Kathy and now Jonathan, truly understands what it takes to keep you alive and relatively healthy. 

“I’m sorry, mate! I’m so-so sorry!” He blubbers, hugging Henry tightly, his initial stance shattered by what he’s seen. Henry cups the back of his head, offering comfort to what he knows is a shock. 

“To answer your question. I couldn’t let her stay there, in that cold place, where the staff just go through the motions. She’s my wife, she’s my responsibility. In sickness and in health. I love her too much to let her waste away in a place like that, Jonathan. Even though...Even though life is not like it was before, she’s still my love. Still the other half of my heart. Do you understand?” 

Jonathan nods hurriedly, sobbing quietly and knowing full well he’s never had that type of love, nor given it. It makes him feel ant-sized and foolish for even thinking that Henry could just give it all up.

It’s well past lunch by the time Jonathan leaves and having skipped breakfast, Henry eats only because he must. It’s the bare minimum, but enough to keep him going another day and that’s all that matters. 

He tries not to look into mirrors much lately; the man that looks back at him is foreign. Gone are the muscles he’d been known for, the bright eyes and beaming grin. Gray creeps further and further into his beard and hairline now, and the hollows of his face are far more prominent. His sallowness always spooks those that visit, and if he’s not ready for it, it scares him a little too. Today, he looks, tries to find any remnant of that man that once was. There’s always a bit left, but as time goes on, it gets harder and harder to find. Today, he doesn’t see it, and it terrifies him. He has to keep hold of that man, if only so that if the day comes that you should wake from your condition, there may be something familiar for you to grasp onto.

In the small hallway that gives way to the room the two of you still share, Henry slides down the wall and curls up, sobbing softly, closer than he’s ever been to giving up. He allows himself a meager five minutes to wallow before wiping his eyes with the inside of his shirt and padding back into the room, knowing there’s more to be done. 

He bathes you, washes and combs your hair, and sets to work on your physical therapy, intent on keeping as much of your muscle tone and mass as he can. By the time he’s finished, he’s emotionally exhausted and physically worn out. 

Crawling into his usual spot at your side, he holds you close, sniffling. Today is one of those rare days, one he knows may do you more harm than good, but Henry’s always been honest with you and despite everything that’s happened, that will never change. 

“I miss you, my love. I miss you s-so much,” he stammers out, the tears coming easily, pooling on the pillow next to your shoulder as he reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers together. Henry lets go of the burden in his heart, knowing full well you wouldn’t want him to keep it in any longer than he has to.

“I lo-love you so m-much, darling. Please-please, come back to me. I n-need you here wi-with me!” His sobs soft, he shakes more with each rattled inhale; it’s a condition that hasn’t gone unnoticed by him or Kathy or indeed his own family, but one he’s willing to ignore so long as he can continue to provide you with care. 

It prevents him from feeling the first sign of hope in two years; your fingers slowly curling around his, squeezing weakly.

And so the day goes on, Henry’s list of musts growing smaller with each task he completes, until, come dusk, he finally finds himself curled up again, this time to sleep what few hours his mangled heart and tortured mind allow, hoping for the strength to wake another day and do it all over again. 

[acollectionofhalftruths]

Whale Fall

(Also on Fanfiction.net | Ao3 )

Ezra lays on his side, opening and closing his fist.

The half-collapsed carcass of the Chimaera settles and groans around him, its struts twisted and crushed from its reentry. It had been surprisingly slow, the whale fall that carried them from the depths of space to this planet’s shallow oceans.

He is hidden somewhere in its ribs in a vent. The space is small, the size of the Ghost’s cockpit if a bit colder. He’s slept in worse places. He’s slept in better ones too, but better not to think about them now. There is just enough heat from the dying reactor seeps through walls and walls of steel to warm his bones, and his bones hurt from the crash. His body is in one piece. He isn’t sure what he was expecting when the purgills dragged him through hyperspace to this unknown planet, but he can still open and close his fist.

Thrawn is looking for him. He can sense the admiral’s fury and humiliation somewhere in the bowels of the Chimaera where Ezra had lost him a few hours ago. A few hours to sleep and gather himself, and he’ll deal with that when the sun comes up. If the sun comes up on this planet.

Ezra rolls onto his side and draws his knees up to fit under the torn emergency blanket he scavenged from some officer’s bunk. The portable lamp puddles just enough for him to curl up entirely inside its glow. For not the first time or the last, he wishes for his lightsaber. He closes his fist.

He will have to scavenge in the morning, see what useful things he can salvage from the ship’s remains. He got a good view of the planet as the Chimaera fell. It is all bright blue ocean and sandbars and lagoons with not a city in sight, and from what he’s seen of the ship’s carcass, there is enough here in this colossal wreck to sustain him for years. Maybe even decades if he’s willing to improvise, and he is good at improvising.

His chest aches deep behind his sternum, well under the bruises from the jump and the crash, and it will ache long after the bruises heal. He opens his fist.

He misses them.

His hiding place grows warmer, and he wonders which system is decaying now.

“Ezra.”

He sits bolt upright, fists raised.

There is a woman sitting a few feet away. She is blue, not in the way Thrawn is blue, but in the way a hologram is blue--translucent and wavery at the edges. She’s seated, wearing a long robe and wrappings around her hands and forearms. A gem rests on her forehead and another on the bridge of her nose, and when she smiles, the Force settles around Ezra’s shoulders. The air is warmer now, but the hair on his arms stands on end. He can see the scorched metal behind her, but the depth in her eyes tells Ezra he might fall through her and back into hyperspace if she touches him.

She smiles so kindly it pushes up the corners of her eyes. “Hello, Ezra.”

He clenches his fists and tucks his chin. “Who are you?”

“You don’t recognize me.”

“Should I?”

She ponders for a moment then shakes her head. “No, you wouldn’t. My name is Depa.”

Depa. Kanaan’s master. He lowers his fists from his chin to his chest, watches her warily. He’s seen this trick before. “You were a Jedi.”

“That’s right.”

He lowers one fist, not quite ready to concede. “You died.”

“Yes. The day you were born.”

That sounds about right. He can’t be sure, but the whisper in his gut that has kept him alive tells him that he’s safe. Ezra pushes the last of the emergency blanket off and puts his back to the wall. She’s not between him and the exit--a crack in the wall just wide enough for him to wriggle through in a hurry--and if it’s going to be him and Thrawn here for the foreseeable future, the chance to talk to anybody else sounds nice. Even if she’s dead. He rests his fists on his knees. “So you’re my grand...teacher?”

She chuckles and rests a knuckle against her lip to hide it. “Grandmaster, technically. But Depa is fine.”

It occurs to him that maybe he is dead, and this is some kind of Force afterlife, but that doesn’t seem right. Thrawn is here, for one, and his parents aren’t. More importantly, he can still open and close his fist and feel the Force running like water through his fingers. He eyes the ghost of his grandmaster. “Okay. But if you’re dead, how are you here?”

“I am here because you are here.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t have to.”

That isn’t the answer he wants. He tries again. “Why are you here?”

Another smile crosses Depa’s lips, but it’s sad, and her grief is like a rise in the air pressure that makes the ache in his sternum worse.

“Because you are alone,” she says.

Ezra’s breath catches on the ache, and it hurts because her grief is for him. The ship gives a hollow moan as it settles into the sand on this unknown planet, and the truth settles on his shoulders. He is in the middle of nowhere with an imperial who wants him dead. No crew, no master, no way home. Just him.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until he catches himself on his hands, his palms pressed against the cold steel floor, gloves dotted with tears. This isn’t how he wanted to meet his grandmaster, but he finally stops crying, she is still there with her hands in her lap.

Ezra wipes at his eyes. “Sorry, I--”

Depa leans across the space, closer than he thought she was, and she lays her hand over his. Her fingers pass through his, and it feels like static electricity where they overlap, but it’s something. The ache in his chest subsides. Her gaze is solemn and intent, and she curls her hand as if to hold his. "I know what it is like to pay a high price for victory. They will be waiting for you when you return.”

His breathing hitches again, threatens to undo him, but there is determination in her eyes that steadies him.

"Go to sleep, Ezra Bridger. You will need all your strength to find your way home.”

“Am I ever going to get home?”

“Go to sleep. I will watch over you until you wake.”

He wants to hug her, but he never really learned to embrace ghosts. She removes her hand from his and sits back in a meditative pose he’s seen Kanaan do a hundred times. He switches off the lamp, lays down, draws the blanket over himself. The only light is the soft blue glow pooling around Depa, the only sound his deliberate breathing. Again the Chimaera groans, quieter this time, more at ease. It will be there in the morning to be picked through for tools and comforts and confrontations, but tonight his grandmaster is watching over him.

Ezra holds the edge of the blanket close to his chest and closes his fist.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Handler Todd and 435689: Papers

Here are the results of my live-write exercise! It was super cool! That was a lot of fun and I hope the process was an enjoyable for you guys as it was for me to have you hang out and chat with me while I worked!

CW: Referenced whump of a minor (minor is not whumped during piece). Pet whump, institutionalized slavery. Some gross language regarding said minor. Character is 16. 

“I don’t get it, ‘689.” Todd’s voice was weary, and the boy looked worriedly up at him, struggling to keep up with the taller man’s much longer strides - especially with the way he couldn’t quite put all his weight on his feet leg just now and had to kind of hop-walk down the hall just behind him. “Why bother? You don’t even know that other one’s number, and he had to be at least five years older than you.”

The boy swallowed, hands moving as though they would shove themselves into front pockets, but there weren’t any pockets in the black cloth shorts that were the only pants the boy ever remembered wearing. Finally, he just let them hang awkwardly down at his sides. “Is… is that a question, Handler?” He asked, keeping his voice pitched low.

“What? Yeah, ‘course it is,” Todd said, his eyes scanning the hallways as they walked.

Everything looked the same to the boy - it was always white, and nothing changed. It felt like they went a different way every time they took him somewhere - to the handlers’ training rooms, to the Clean Room where the boy learned to scrub floors until the grout shone white, to the Bad Room.

The handlers didn’t call it the Bad Room - the trainees did.

They kept the Table in the Bad Room.

“What, uh…” The boy cleared his throat, his voice kept trying to shake whenever he had to put his right foot down to walk. The handler didn’t notice, but the boy didn’t mind - they were always hurt, the handlers probably just assumed they were unless they were told otherwise. “What’s the-... the question?”

Handler Todd finally stopped, letting out a low sigh and turning to look down at him. “You are the shortest fucking Box Boy I’ve ever seen, and you’re definitely the youngest. Why’d you stick your neck out for someone who’s bigger, older, and stronger than you? You could’ve been seriously hurt, kiddo!”

The open concern in Handler Todd’s voice felt… so good. It felt so good to hear someone worry about him. Handler Todd was the only one who ever did.

“Well, he… he needed help. He didn’t mean to trip like that, it’s just, you know… we get so cold, here, it’s hard to walk. They shouldn’t have… punished him. It was just an accident.”

“‘689…” Handler Todd sighed again, and something about the way he did it sounded so familiar. It rang a bell in the boy’s mind, warm arms around him and that same soft sigh. He could almost hear a voice that went with it, if he tried.

Almost - but the headache got him, first. The boy winced, and the moment was gone.

“Look. I’m… I’m doing what I can to keep you off the radar of some of the… other guys, but you gotta help me out, here.” Handler Todd put a hand on the boy’s shoulders on either side, and he looked up into Todd’s eyes, his kind face, and he thought, I wish all of us could have handlers like you.

“I don’t like that they hurt us, though,” The boy said, setting his jaw. “That’s not fair.”

I don’t know who gave you that stubbornness, it sure didn’t come from my side of the family.

Headache again. This time, Handler Todd caught his wince and put a hand up to the side of his face, cool and calming. Training took over, and the boy leaned heavily into the touch, pressing his head into it like a cat.

Handler Todd jerked his hand back and away. “Shit. I forgot you guys do that, I’m… I’m sorry.”

“Do what?” The boy blinked, confused. “What… what did I do?”

“Uh… nothing. No, you’re good, ‘689. Look, I figured… I know that you’ve had a rough few weeks, and I thought… I don’t know.” Something passed over Handler Todd’s face, a shadow of sadness the boy didn’t understand. “I thought you could maybe use a break. For a while.”

The boy stepped closer to Handler Todd instinctively, crossing his arms in front of himself. His right leg burned but he forced his weight to rest on it, to prove that he wasn’t as hurt as he looked. The cane wasn’t so bad, there were worse ways you could get punished. “I’m okay,” He said, making sure to put a little hint of a plea there, a whine. The handlers liked when you sounded like you were begging. “I don’t need a break, sir, I’m, I’m okay. I don’t want to go back to my room, I can keep training, I can-”

Handler Todd swallowed and backed slightly away from him, but the boy followed him, trying to press into his space a little, to show that he was fine. “No… hey. No, kiddo. Look, you just-... can you just stay at arms’ length for a sec? I don’t mean go back to your room, I promise.”

“Can I… can I sleep on a mat? In the training room?” The boy brightened at that. That was a special reward, you only got to sleep on the heated mats in the training rooms if you did really, really well that day. The boy couldn’t remember the last time he’d done more than doze, really, he was never good for long enough.

They were always hurting some other trainee, and the boy was always trying to stop them.

“I can do you one better, kiddo,” Handler Todd said, his own expression softening into a slight smile as he saw the hopefulness on the boy’s face. “I can take you outside.” He pointed to a door with a passcode lock at the end of the hallway. It looked exactly like every other door the boy had ever seen, with AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY written on it.

The boy could still read - he knew some of the others couldn’t, any longer, but he could.

“Out… outside?” The boy’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and he gnawed nervously on his lower lip, looking at the door again. It didn’t look like a door to outside… and they all knew that outside wouldn’t ever happen until you were bought. And even then your owner might decide to keep you locked up and that was okay, too, because you only existed the way they wanted you to…

“Truly. I promise. Look, I had to… call in a couple favors to make this happen, but… you’ve earned it, kiddo.” Handler Todd hesitated, that weird sad look on his face again. “Shit, you know, there’s… there’s more of you who deserve a good fucking day outside without any of this bullshit than I, I knew… but fuck. You know?”

The boy blinked at him. There was a silence.

“... right, no you don’t. Okay. Look, I’ll try and explain a bit more once we’re out there, okay? Just close your eyes.”

The boy obediently shut his eyes and lifted his chin, just slightly, but all the handler did was take him carefully by the wrist and lead him down the hall, moving more slowly this time. The chill air that came through the vents, endlessly recycled and recirculated, smelling stale and musty, made the boy shiver. He was never anything but cold here, except when Handler Todd would hug him sometimes. Nobody else hugged him.

Don’t mind us, the weird voice he heard sometimes said, somewhere far back in his mind, behind the wall they’d built inside him. We’re all huggers in this family.

He had to stop this or his headache was going to get really bad. The boy focused on his steps, the twinge of pain up his right leg, the ache in his ribs from getting kicked, the way his back throbbed from being caned there, too. If he focused on the pain they gave him, he could forget the pain in his head, and forget what the pain tried to bring with it.

Handler Todd’s grip on his wrist, though, was warm, and not too tight - Handler Todd never hurt him, ever, even when he was angry and defiant and deserved it - and the boy smiled, faintly, as he was led.

Then he heard the soft beeping of the passcode - three short beeps, two long ones, although he didn’t know why or what it meant - and the metallic sound of Handler Todd turning the long handle on the door.

A blast of heat.

The boy didn’t think he’d ever felt hot air before.

Then the light hit, turning the black behind his closed eyes a kind of brownish red, and the boy flinched back from it, a soft worried sound deep in his throat. “H-Handler-”

“It’s okay, kiddo. It’s okay.” Handler Todd let go of his wrist only to step up close to him, and the boy melted into his side as quickly as he could, chasing the safety. Handlers were safe. They  might hurt you, but it was to make you learn - and besides, Handler Todd never hurt him. He was the safest handler of all of them.

Todd slid an arm around the boy’s shoulders and said softly, “Open your eyes. Blink a few times, kiddo, you need to remember sunlight, it can kind of hurt if you come out from the inside light too fast.”

The boy cracked open one eye, and finally two. The light pierced eyes that hadn’t seen it before, felt hot on skin that was only ever cold, now. The world around him began to come into some kind of focus, and he pushed harder into Todd, worried, eyes darting around at the world outside the Facility.

“Am I… am I allowed out here?” He asked, in a hush.

“No,” Handler Todd said. “So this is our little secret, okay? Just you and me?”

Our little secret.

The boy fought the cold rush of fear at the words. Nobody bothered him, not since Handler Todd started talking to him, but he’d heard handlers say those words before, to the other trainees, and… “What… what kind of secret?”

“Huh?” Todd blinked down at him, confused, then looked back out at the world. “Just don’t tell them I brought you outside, kiddo. I’ll get written up for sure for something like this, and you do not want the Director on your ass for breaking rules. Come on, I want to show you something.”

Todd pulled the boy off to the side, and he stared around himself in wonder. There was a giant parking lot that stretched forever, he thought - or at least until it hit a road, and he could hear traffic but not see it somewhere over that direction. There was a green sign that stood tall above everything else, and the boy squinted at it.

STARBUCKS

What was a Starbucks?

Then they had gone through a small gate to a fenced-in area, and the green sign was gone. Instead… the boy stared around at a small courtyard, with benches and kind of a covered area and grass.

He didn’t realize he had fallen to his hands and knees to feel at the grass until he heard Handler Todd laughing, sort of chuckling to himself, as he closed the gate behind them. “It’s been awhile, huh?”

Grass was spiky but soft, both at the same time. Must’ve rained, the boy thought, and wasn’t sure where the thought came from, only knew that the pain followed in its wake. He slowly laid his head down until his cheek brushed the blades of grass, moving it back and forth, humming to himself.

Handler Todd walked away from him, giving him space, and took a seat up on the table part of a picnic table, pulling a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out. He watched the boy moving slowly over the grass, taking a long drag and then blowing the smoke out thoughtfully. “What do you think?”

“I think you could put a garden here,” The boy said, then winced. “Ow.”

“Yeah, don’t think too hard, kiddo. I know we take that out of you.” Todd sighed, still smoking, taking quick drags. “Shit, my nerves are shot working here these days. I was okay before I realized some of you are so young, but I can’t just… fucking quit, can I?”

The boy realized after a moment’s pause that Handler Todd apparently expected him to answer. He looked up from inspecting a violet, pressing his fingertip against the soft petals, and said, “Can’t you?”

“Ha. Right. My kids need insurance and there’s no company in the state gives a high-school graduate benefits like this. Plus, I mean, you can’t beat the vacation time, the paid time off, I just…” He trailed off, slowly, and looked over at the boy.

Kneeling on the grass holding a violet he’d picked between thumb and forefinger, the boy wore the white shirt and black trainee shorts and the wide-band shock collar around his neck. He blinked at the handler, then looked slowly around himself.

“What? Did I… is something… is something wrong?”

“No… I mean, yes, but not anything you did. Come over here, kiddo.”

The boy jumped instantly to his feet, ignoring the pain that shot up his right leg - push it back in your head, it doesn’t matter, it’s just going to hurt and you just have to find a way to keep going when it does. He moved quickly to Handler Todd and stood in front of him in Position One, sliding instinctively into the straight-backed posture with his hands behind his back, eyes slightly lowered. “Yes, sir?”

“Look. I didn’t actually… bring you out here because you, uh, got punished today. That was kind of… you definitely need to stop throwing yourself in front of other trainees, but… that’s not why we’re here.”

The boy nodded, slowly, confused.

“Look, you, uh… um. Shit. I’m not sure how to say this. I’m not gonna see you much longer, kiddo.”

The boy’s head jerked up, wide brown eyes focusing on the handler’s, searching for some sign that he was joking, or lying. He stepped forwards, dropping onto his knees on the picnic bench, looking up at Handler Todd, who scooted slightly back, putting more space between them. “Did you… are you leaving, sir? B-but… but no one else is nice, you’re-... you’re the only one who’s nice to me, I don’t get to talk to anyone else…”

“Hey, no. I’m not leaving.” Todd stubbed out his cigarette half-smoked and set it aside, then put his hands back at the boy’s shoulders, rubbing at them gently with his thumbs. “I’m not going anywhere, kiddo.”

“But you said-”

“You are.”

The sun shone hot on his back, made the top of his head feel deliciously warm as it soaked into his dark brown hair. He could smell the earth and grass all around him, and even smell Handler Todd’s cologne, sort of strong and he hadn’t liked it at first, but now it meant safety like no other scent did. “... what?”

“You, uh. You got papers, today.” Todd smiled at him, but it was fainter this time, it wasn’t a smile he meant. Papers meant owners, which was good, but Todd didn’t look like it was good. He looked like… like…

He looked like when you found out your grandpa died, and Mom smiled like this when she said, “At least he’s in a better place,” and you wondered what place, and-

The boy pitched forward, groaning as the lance of pain in his head seemed to ricochet through him, throwing his arms around Handler Todd’s waist and holding tight. Handler Todd leaned forward and slid arms around his neck and held him, too, mistaking his pain for fear, murmuring soft comforting things while the boy tried to stop the aberrant thought from digging its claws too deep.

“Who bought me?” He whispered into Handler Todd’s shirt collar, the rough scratchy fabric that he hated but kind of liked, when it was Todd. “What are they like? Are they gonna be nice to me?”

Todd took a deep, deep breath. The boy felt him drawing the air slowly into his lungs, holding it, and just as slowly letting it out. His arms tightened around the boy’s shoulders, drawing him up a little bit so he was standing on his knees on the bench, his head tucked into Handler Todd’s neck. “A man bought you as a gift for his friend.”

The boy nodded, slowly. This was why he was here, what he was made for, to go to an owner at the end of training. He should be happy about it, but he felt cold, instead. Scared to leave Todd, and scared to leave the white room and the hallways, scared to leave the rules he knew and go live in a new place with new rules he didn’t.

“I’m still… I still get to be a Domestic, right?”

“Right. You’ll be her Domestic. Just like we talked about, just like training.”

“But… I’m not done with training.”

That deep breath again. The boy pulled back, chanced a look up at Todd’s face, and caught an odd glittery look in his eyes. “I know,” Todd said gently. “I know you’re not. But the, um. The order was to send someone… unfinished.”

Confusion, again. Pets weren’t supposed to ask questions, but the boy was pretty bad at remembering that rule, and Todd never punished him for talking too much like the others did, so… he thought it was safe to ask one more. “Why?”

Todd opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again. “You’re a fighter,” Todd said, finally. “You fit the profile. Young, dark brown hair and brown eyes, pale skin, and… defiant. The man who bought you wants to give his friend a, uh… someone who will be defiant to her.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand,” The boy said, in a voice just above a whisper. “We’re not supposed to be defiant. I’m, I’m bad when I talk back, it’s bad that I can’t stop… why… why would they want-”

“Look,” Todd cut in, and the boy flinched, ducking his head down. “Shit, I’m sorry. No, I didn’t mean to sound mad. I’m not mad, kiddo, I promise. Hey. Hey, look at me. Look up at me.” The boy slowly raised his eyes, and Todd took his chin in his fingers, keeping his head tilted up to make eye contact. His voice went low, and soft. “I’m not mad at you. This just… I’m just mad that you’re being sent off on purpose when you’re not done, and that my complaint went nowhere and I’m kind of worried about some shit I didn’t realize was in my contract, and… I’m not mad, I promise.”

“Is it that I get to finish learning with my owner? Is that why?” The boy guessed, and thought maybe he’d guessed right when the shadow passed over Todd’s face again, and he didn’t answer. He just pulled the boy in closer and held onto him. The faint smell of cigarette smoke clung to his shirt and his skin, and the boy kind of liked it, on him.

“Yeah,” Todd said, finally, resting his chin on the boy’s hair. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s it. Maybe she just wants one-on-one, she hasn’t… done that in a long time. She probably doesn’t know how young you are. Shit, no, she does. I’m sure she does, because she knew they did that to you, she knew it and she told me I was making too big a deal out of nothing… fuck.” He sighed, and the boy wondered how many ways there were to sigh, because it felt like Todd knew all of them.

“So it’s, it’s a woman?” The boy frowned, trying to piece together what Handler Todd was saying, but none of it made any sense. A man bought him for a woman, because he wasn’t done, because he was defiant, but the woman knew about it, and knew about… something…

When the boy tried to think about it too much, the headache threatened around the edges, along with an awful rolling fog. He closed his eyes tightly, and forced himself to forget.

“Yeah… well, kind of. Or some kind of fucking predatory lizard wearing a person suit,” Todd muttered, bitterly.

“... what?”

“Nothing. Nothing, kiddo. I just, you know, I don’t… know what it’s going to be like, when you go home for the first time. So I thought maybe you would, uh, just like to see somewhere kind of nice for a while. But, hey, she’s already got two others, so you’ll have friends, right?”

The boy knew the answer to this one, and the words rolled instantly off his tongue, effortless and easy. “Pets don’t make emotional connections with other pets, they are designed to connect with their owners to the exclusion of-”

“Okay, okay, okay, quit it. I don’t need to hear that. I know you know it. But that’s a lie, pets get attached to each other all the time. We don’t like the owners to know it, but…” Todd shrugged. “Talk to your other ones, when you get there, okay? They’ll help you settle in and learn what to… what to expect. From her.”

The boy nodded, relieved. He could learn from them, and maybe he could be good enough that whoever she was would like him.

“Hey, um… sir?” He twisted his fingers into Todd’s shirt, slipping into the space between two buttons along the front and feeling the rough cotton against his fingers. “Can I… can I ask… something?”

Todd didn’t move away from him, this time, and the boy had never felt so warm in his life - being held by someone in the sunshine, out in the fresh air. He was warm inside and out, even with his fear, even not knowing who he would go to.

But you had to go to someone eventually.

What else was he even made for, if not that?

“Sure, kiddo. Fire away.” Todd’s eyes kept skipping down to the half-smoked cigarette, itching to pick it back up and light it again. The boy followed his gaze, frowning slightly, and then he pulled back, reaching across Todd’s leg to pick up the cigarette himself.

Handler Todd stared at him as the boy picked up the lighter, too, and flicked it open, thumb effortlessly pressing the little pad there just right to bring up the flame. “Since when do you fucking know how to do that?”

The boy put the end of the cigarette against the flame, then blinked and looked up. “I don’t know.”

Todd took the cigarette, and laughed - but it was barely a sound, and hardly a smile, and the boy didn’t really think it was a laugh he meant at all.

“Ask me your question, kiddo. What’s up?”

“Do I, um.” He watched the cloud of smoke as Todd exhaled, stinging his eyes and making the boy cough. Todd apologized, clapping his back until he hit a sore spot and the boy winced at that, too. Finally, his voice a little strained, the boy said softly, “Do I still get to see you, when I go home?”

Todd was silent.

In a tree nearby, a bird sang, and the boy thought, yellow bird with black wings, 9 letters, starts with G. Ow.

“... no, kiddo,” Todd finally said, and when the boy’s mouth trembled a little in response, Todd kept his eyes firmly turned away. “That’s not… that’s not how it works. Look, I shouldn’t have been doing this anyway. Half my coworkers think I’m fucking you, for Christ’s sake.”

“... half your coworkers don’t have much r-room to talk,” The boy said, and felt heat burning behind his eyes when Todd looked at him, surprised, and smiled.

“Shit, kid. I think when you come in so young you’re more resilient, more of you sticks. Hold onto that for me, yeah? Maybe… maybe her other ones will be nice, that’d be good for you. Look, I… I’m sorry this shit turned out the way it did. I wouldn’t work here if I’d have known they were taking you guys in against your will. Not that me not working here would fix your problems…”

“I, I want you working here, though,” The boy said quickly, a little desperately. “You’re nice to me, nobody else is nice to me. I want there to be nice people here, for us.”

Todd groaned and leaned forward, slowly resting his head on the boy’s shoulder. The boy held onto him tightly, tears burning in his eyes even though he was supposed to be happy, because… because Handler Todd had made things a little better, and he kind of didn’t want to go home.

“It’d be easier for you all if none of us were,” Todd mumbled without raising his head. “Jesus fuck, kid, this job is fucking killing me. I’m helping you kids out the best I can, but there’s nothing I can do, and I hate that I can’t… just go, either. I just… I can’t think of anyone worse than the goddamn Director to own a kid as good as you.”

The boy’s heart froze.

“... the Director?”

Clicking heels on cold tile floors. Awful eyes, that bright red hair. Smiles that never seemed like more than muscles moving to try and fake an expression she didn’t really feel. Black cane in hand with a silver tip.

Are we going to have a problem, 435689?

“... shit,” Todd said, just as the boy pulled back, jerked himself back all at once, lost his balance and collapsed backwards off the bench onto the ground, scrambling back in a panic. “Shit, I wasn’t supposed to-... I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry, kid, shit-”

“The, the… the, wait, no-... but, but she can’t-...” The boy’s throat constricted, he could feel the way she looked at him, the weight of her eyes because she only showed up when he was at his worst and then, and then… “The Director is who I go to?”

The fear built and built and built inside of him, pressure that threatened to shred him apart, and finally the pressure broke. The boy curled in on himself in the grass and opened his mouth in a scream, but he couldn’t find the breath to make the sound.

Everyone was scared of the Director - everyone.

In a place where everyone hurt you, the Director hurt you the worst.

He made the face into the ground, he didn’t know for how long, trying to breathe in the scent of the soil and the grass again to calm himself, but all he could think of was the Table, when he was really bad and kept hurting handlers trying to get out, and they brought her.

Click, click, click click, heels on tile floors, and some of the boys that went with her never came back to their rooms.

Todd gently laid a hand on his back, and the boy jerked back and away from him with a cry, half-convinced it was her, only to look up into Todd’s worried, kind eyes.

Not kind enough to save him.

“I’m sorry, kiddo, I shouldn’t have told you.”

“I don’t want to go with her,” The boy whispered, and was surprised to find there were already tears on his face. He wiped at them hurriedly with grass-stained fingers, leaving a little green streak along one cheekbone. “I don’t want to be owned by her. I don’t want-”

Todd glanced up and beyond him, out towards the parking lot, and his jaw set in a grim line. Then he looked back at the boy and said, in a slightly harsher voice, “Want isn’t important for you.”

“Hey, Todd, what you got in there?” Another handler’s voice called, too close, and the boy flinched forwards into the arm Todd slid effortlessly around him.

“Just snuck this one out for a while,” Todd said, a smile in his voice, a mean one. The way the other handlers smiled. “Gets a little loud in there, you know? Plus, I needed a cigarette and I wanted something to look at while I smoked.”

“Ha, fair enough. You better get back in, though, we’re due for one of those meeting things again.” The other handler swung the little gate to the courtyard open, and the boy cringed back into Handler Todd’s side at the look in his sparkling dark eyes. “Oh, pretty one. I’ve never seen him before.”

“You don’t exactly work with these, Manning. Come on, let’s get inside. I’ll drop him off at his room.” Todd got to his feet, pulling the boy up after him.

The other handler grinned at the sight of the boy pressed against Handler Todd’s side, staring at him with frightened eyes. “Didn’t have you pegged for this to be your type, Todd.”

“Yeah, well. You don’t know shit about me, Connor,” Todd snapped, pulling the boy right past him to head for the door. “Next time, don’t interrupt me with one of them, yeah?”

“What the fuck ever, man. Don’t get so fucking testy.” Connor gave a low wolf-whistle, then laughed when the boy flinched again at the sound. “He’s neat. Man, I would happily pull overtime for that-”

“He’s sixteen years old, Manning,” Todd said flatly.

There was a long silence.

“Okay, never mind that. I’m fucked up but I’m not that fucked up. I mean. You are, but-”

“Shut up.” Todd pulled the boy back inside, closing the door behind them right in the other handler’s face. “There, now he’ll have to go around to the front.” He turned to look at the boy, tilting his head, lifting his hand to wipe the grass stain away with his thumb. “You okay, kid?”

“No,” The boy said, in a very small voice. “I don’t… I don’t think I’m okay.”

“Yeah… that’s probably not the smartest question I could ask.” The air was already beginning to chill the boy’s skin, wiping away the warmth he’d had from the sun and from Handler Todd’s arms around him. He’d felt safe, for just a second, and now he felt like he was about to be pushed off a cliff. “I guess what I mean is… is there anything I can do for you, before you go back to your room?”

“Help me,” The boy said, softly, looking up searchingly into Todd’s eyes, grabbing onto his shirt again. “Help me not go to her. I don’t, I don’t want to go home with the Director. Get me s-someone else, someone else can, can buy me, right? Someone else?”

“Man already paid his balance upfront,” Todd said softly. “It doesn’t work that way. I’m sorry.”

The boy felt goosebumps break out over his skin, the first real shiver of chill from being back in the frozen air. He hadn’t realized until Todd had brought him outside what it even felt like to not be shivering anymore.

Suddenly, the boy hated Todd more than anything, for taking him out there and then telling him he was going home with the Director. Todd had ruined the sun, and the grass, and the bench and the sign across the street, he had ruined all of it.

Why be nice if you were only going to do the worst thing of all?

“I want to go back to my room,” The boy said, lips moving numbly, pushing sound out, but he was only dimly aware of it. “Take me, take me back to my room, please.”

“Are you sure? I could maybe get you time for a nap while we do our meeting, on the training mats-”

“I want to go to my room,” The boy said again, his chest tight and heavy, heart pounding. “I want to, I want to be alone in my room now, please. Please just, just take me back to my room, I want to go to my room, I want-...”

I want to go home.

I don’t want to be here.

I don’t want this.

I want my life back.

“Kid, calm down, it’s not going to be that bad-... no, shit, that’s not-... fuck. Okay. Look, if you just-”

“Fuck you!” The boy shouted the words, and heard them echo down the hall, before he even understood he had spoken. He clapped his own hands over his mouth, eyes wide as he stared up at Todd, breathing in gasps.

Todd stared at him wide-eyed. He didn’t look mad, or even upset. He just looked… surprised. “What?”

The boy’s hands slowly dropped when no punishment seemed to be coming, and he swallowed, hard. “I, I said… I said… I said fuck you. You, you think you’re nicer but y-you’re not, because you… you just-... you make me remember people can be nice but you don’t help me!”

“I, I can’t, kid, I have to think about my family-”

“I had a family, too!” Todd grabbed at him and the boy tried to push away, but the handlers were always so strong, and he was crushed against Todd whether he liked it or not, trying weakly to push back, finally giving up and burying his face into Todd’s shirt, feeling it go slowly damp as he cried. “I had a family, too, why do you get a family but I don’t?”

“Shit,” was all Todd said.

But he held him, and it wasn’t nearly enough, but it was something.

They stood there - the boy didn’t know how long - until his crying calmed down, until he was breathing the smell of cigarette smoke and cologne and it was a good smell, the only good smell here, and the boy didn’t feel any better for shouting.

He just felt… empty.

And scared.

“Will you still come visit me and, and be my handler, until I… go?”

He felt Todd nod against his hair, the arms around him tighten again. “Yeah, kiddo. I will. I’ll be the last handler you see before they put you in your box, okay? I promise.”

The boy didn’t feel any better to hear it. But at least he didn’t feel worse.

“I don’t want this to be my life,” He whispered.

“Yeah… yeah. I know. Come on, let’s get you settled back in, if I’m late my supervisor will have my ass handed to me on a plate.”

I don’t give a fuck about your supervisor.

The boy kept his thought behind his teeth, because you weren’t supposed to talk back, or complain, or be sad. You just were.

“Look, what’s… what’s something you want that I can get you, huh? I’ll bring it to you after the meeting’s over?” Handler Todd began to help him move back down the hallway, keeping a hand on his lower back, the only part of him that felt warm when he walked.

He could ask for pain medicine for his leg, or he could ask for a pillow - he hadn’t been good enough for one, but…

There was only one thing he wanted.

“Can I have a granola bar?”

“Yeah, sure, kid. That’s all you want?”

No.

I want my fucking mom back.

[hypnoticwinter]

Down the Rabbit Hole part 16 (nsfw elements)

“Take a break!” comes the barked command through the squad radio link, and it takes all of my willpower not to collapse onto the fleshy ground then and there. I take the camera slung around my neck and turn it off, telescope the lens back into itself, and then find a nice soft bit of wall to sink into before I pop the helmet and give Elena a weary gaze. She grins at me cheekily.

“How you doing, cutie?”

I barely have enough energy to grin, but somehow I manage it. “God,” I tell her. “I had no idea there was going to be this much hiking.”

I had never thought of myself as much of a slouch as far as physical activity went. I liked keeping myself fit, liked the rush I got after a workout. I did a lot of cardio, a lot of jogging, that kind of thing. Occasionally I’d lift some weights but it didn’t appeal to me as much as just the inchoate joy of moving quickly and feeling air push in and out of my lungs. I had a fair amount of endurance as well; I wasn’t running marathons or anything but frequently I’d end up jogging for upwards of an hour, just for something to do, just to unwind after work or take my mind off something. I’d looked at the several miles we’d have to travel today, down there in the stinking guts of the Pit, and thought something along the lines of ‘no sweat, I’m active, I take care of myself, it’ll be a workout but nothing more.’

Christ.

What neither Peter or Makado had mentioned to me is that if you aren’t travelling in a Made Place down here, in a place that’s been specifically sanitized and reinforced and structured for something the size of a human, something that moves like a human instead of crawling or writhing or wriggling, it is capital-letter Tough Going. Everything down here, down to just the texture of the gigantic veins we pushed through, our suits sopping with nameless excretions and juices, seemed designed to only sullenly give way to us, and that after a great deal on our part to convince it to do so.

Example number one – the tightness of some of the veins is so great that we had to use something called a venterial jack, a pneumatic, hydraulic device that Slate carried slung over his back, in order to force them open so we could pass through. Everyone kept saying that once we hit the organ trail it’d be more open and we wouldn’t have to use it, but in the meantime in some of these conduits Slate would have to get three or four of us to help him pull back the weird, spongy tissue of the sides back far enough for him to plant it there in the middle, and then we’d all back away, and with a thundering sound like a pile-driver it would expand and splay open, pushing the tissue back with such force that at times it would leave a gigantic bruise coloring the Pit’s peach-hued flesh afterwards, and then we’d be able to crawl past it in the newly expanded space perhaps twenty feet or so before we’d have to hit the small trigger on its hull to collapse it, and then lug the thing back up to the front and repeat the process.

Example two – these vents aren’t perfectly straight, flat areas to walk in. They dip and bend and curve; sometimes they roll upwards, great creased crinkles of flesh stretching upwards into a ninety-degree angle. Then there’s nothing to do but get over it somehow, either by pulling yourself up if it’s small enough, or by breaking out the damn rope and pitons and climbing up, and then helping everyone else up after you. Then imagine doing all of this in pitch darkness, the only light coming from everyone’s headlamps. Then imagine that the floor is damp and sticky and squishy and generally revolting. Slippery with fluid at times. Imagine that it groans and writhes and wriggles around you if you manage to unstick your cleats at the wrong time and it bucks and pitches you to the ground. And then imagine that if you do fall to the ground, in the space of time it takes for someone to come and help you up you become covered with all forms of parasites, tiny things ranging between the size of a knuckle and the size of a fist, all urgently eager and hungry. Tiny worms like nematodes, crablike mites, stranger, less defined things that scuttle or slither or undulate off at the first sign of motion but are altogether too eager to swarm over you and excrete digestive juices or sensory pheromones or urine or shit or what the hell ever else.

I ask Elena about them and she explains that the duct that we’re moving through is part of the Pit’s digestive system and that all of these little creatures snag scraps of food whenever it passes through, or sometimes they prey on each other. They evolve quickly, down here in the dark, generations zipping by in the course of a day.

I can see my helmeted reflection in the glossy visor of Elena’s helmet and I shudder. My camera is already splattered with grime, no matter how careful I’ve been to keep it clean. Nothing that interferes with its operation, thankfully; I don’t relish the idea of grappling with the clunky, low-resolution camcorder secreted somewhere in its case in my pack. At least the operation of my DSLR is second-nature to me; at least I don’t have to think about it.

Peter stomps over and sits down next to us. In here, in these wider basins, the little scummy creatures crawling all over don’t seem to venture into the middle, leaving a broad round circle of bare flesh where we can sit without being molested. I’ve already popped my helmet and I keep my eyes on Elena as she takes hers off, shakes her head doggedly, smooths her hair out. She catches my eye and grins, and then flicks her eyes over to Peter.

“Peter, right?”

“Yes,” he says. He holds his fist out and they touch knuckles. A less complicated gesture than trying to shake hands with the suit gloves on. “Sorry I haven’t been around much, I’ve been –“

“Too busy with Veret?” Elena interjects smoothly, and I nearly choke on the mouthful of water I’d taken from my canteen. Peter claps me on the back and grimaces.

“I hoped people wouldn’t have talked much,” Peter says, and Elena laughs.

“Please,” she says. “People are going to do nothing but talk if you’re fucking the boss. I’m Elena, by the way.”

Peter’s blushing. I nudge him. “So you and Makado, huh?”

He snorts. “Slate walked in on me and her, um. Well, you know. In one of the supply closets the other day.”

“And of course,” Elena adds, “considering that Slate is a 12-year-old girl, he ran and tattled to everyone.”

“That’s Slate,” Peter agrees. “When did you join?”

“Three years ago.”

“Huh. That’s back when I was here.”

“Yeah, I was attached to a research team for a while. They were doing some gastric stuff and they needed a diver. Probably why we never met.”

“Makes sense,” Peter nods. Elena’s eyes flick over to me and she reaches out a hand.

“Want me to open that for you?” she asks, and I shake my head. I’ve almost gotten the granola bar open now, but these damn gloves –

“I’ve got it,” I tell her. “I almost –“

“You sure you’ve got it?”

“Shut up, Pete.”

“Here, let me –“

“Fine,” I say, tossing the granola bar to Elena. She strips the wrapper off it with one deft motion and I shake my head. “How the hell –“

“Lots of practice,” Peter says. “So Elena, when you joined, did you…”

As I sit there munching and letting the quiet rustle of conversation blur into the background, letting some of the strength come back into my weary legs, I think for a moment about the fleshy, veined interior of the basin I’m sitting in. There are places in my body just like this, I think to myself. This is just the same as me, writ large. And I’m sure I have parasites just like those squirming things, all the mites and leeches and worms and other tiny things, just even tinier, single-celled or at the very least simple organisms, living inside of me, just like these are.

I put my hand on the floor hesitantly and I swear I feel, just for a moment, the throb of a titan heartbeat somewhere resounding in it like the echo of a vast drum.

“Alright people! Let’s get moving!”

I push myself up, nearly bang heads with Elena. Our helmets are off still so it’s dark, the lights are strobing all around as everyone puts theirs on. “Sorry,” I say to her, but before I can get the word out fully she’s seized me by the shoulders and kissed me hard and deep on the lips, her tongue skating over my teeth lightly before we part, her gleaming grin the only part of her I can really see, and I’m left breathless. For the next fifteen minutes of hiking I can’t seem to wipe the smile from my face.

 * * *

 The first difficulty arises only about an hour after we left the rest site. The vent we were passing through widened out, a sign Elena explained meant that we were beginning to enter the old Organ Trail, sort of a central hiking path through some of the more interesting areas of the Pit. It meant easier going, which I was thankful for; the area had been cleared and levelled a long time ago, back before 2007, and even though some of the built areas had been wrecked by those titan convulsions, now years past, there was still a great deal of flat ground and even in some parts metal platforms and walkways for us to use, which certainly gave my aching arms and legs a little solace.

It happened just at the end of one of those walkways, a short, narrow tunnel through a conic gape of flesh that truncated down from the ceiling like an abraded sphincter. The walkway through it still had age-old hydraulic jacks keeping the fleshy ceiling from collapsing inward on it, and though the Sergeant and Fumi, up at front, showed a little trepidation at the notion of passing through with only those jacks to secure it, there was no other real option; the portable jack Slate had wasn’t strong enough to provide any sort of security, even if we set it up in the middle of the passage at full load strength. Plus, Crookshank had loudly and crudely reasoned, if the fucking thing hadn’t caved in in the last four fucking years, what are the fucking odds it’ll fuck us in the ass right as we walk under it?

Hard to argue with that logic. And, to Crookshank’s credit, the fucking thing didn’t fuck us in the ass, although I couldn’t stop myself from staring up at the bloated, swollen flesh of the ceiling as I passed under it, a tiny ice-cold trickle of fear welling in my gut as I considered the sheer weight that was likely behind that glossy, straining surface. Suit or no suit, that’d kill me.

We hardly make it thirty yards from the ending of the tunnel before Joker tears through the flesh of the trail and plunges down into darkness. Euler actually yelps and we all whip around and see the outline of the pit the robot had fallen through, an irregular craggy chasm of flesh. We make our way cautiously to its edge and peer down and I almost laughed, for there just fifteen feet or so below us is Joker, his head inclined upwards, the running lights on the side blinking anxiously, looking for all the world like a forlorn and anxious dog waiting for its master to come rescue it.

Then all manner of cursing and expletives. It was for all the world like watching the groups of construction workers you’d see sometimes on the side of the highway, about six of us standing around mutely with our arms folded or akimbo, watching, while two others ran about frantically trying to accomplish something. The Sergeant and Euler had another shouting match which ended with the Sergeant throwing up his hands in disgust when Euler explained that the damn thing weighed around five hundred pounds and that nobody had told him to look out for crevices like that. Crookshank was in favor of jumping down and tying a rope around Joker’s waist and then the rest of us hoisting him out that way, but Klaus stops him and tosses a tiny white tab down into the murky liquid pooling around Joker’s feet.

“Acid test strip,” Elena murmurs to me when I shot her a questioning glance.

Nearly a dozen headlamps focus in on the tiny floating strip. Crookshank spits a disgusted curse when it turns a violent shade of pink.

“Good thing Klaus threw that in,” Elena calls, a tiny smirk coloring her words, and Crookshank rolls his eyes at her.

“What’s going on – oops. Sorry.”

Makado’s voice had flourished in my ears, sounding as rich and full in the helmet as though she’d been standing right next to me. Then the transmission clicked off. A couple of chuckles from the rest of the squad and then I realized – she must have dialed to the wrong frequency, spoken to all of us instead of just the Sergeant. He inclines his great slab of a head, one hand pressed to his helmeted ear, nodding occasionally, and then motions to Euler. “Euler,” he says. “Can you make it dig in and climb out?”

Euler stares at him blankly. “You mean into the - ?”

“Yes, goddam it, into the side of the wall.”

Poor Euler. It’s obvious he doesn’t want to. His hands are shaking lightly on the remote and all of us staring at him waiting for him to do it probably isn’t helping. He presses a complex series of buttons, manipulates the joystick carefully, and down in the pit Joker reaches up and plunges his hands into the fleshy wall, using about as much effort, it looks like, as it’d take to push into sand. Joker lifts himself off the ground and then hesitantly pulls one hand out, dripping with gore, and reaches upwards.

“Today, Euler.”

I almost, almost snap something at the Sergeant, but I bite my tongue. Whatever sort of peace we brokered the other night, it seemed like a tentative one, and I’d rather he was yelling at Euler, not me.

Sorry, Euler.

“Hey, Roan?”

I reach down to the radio and click it on. “Makado, what’s up?”

“Hi,” she says. “I just wanted to let you know that earlier today I got a call from our mutual friend Erica.”

I can feel my eyebrows raising of their own accord. “Really?” I ask. “Was she able to get in touch with - ?”

“With her guy down there? No, she wasn’t. She was calling to let me know that she was sorry,” Makado laughs, “and to tell you the same, that she’s sorry.”

“Christ,” I mutter. “Wasn’t expecting that.”

“I’ve already spoken to the Sergeant about it and we’ve decided that on the way back up you’ll make some detours, check some spots that he might be holed up, but since we can’t make contact with him…”

“Right.”

“How are you doing down there?”

“Um. I’m alright. This is a bit of a new experience for me.”

“That’s one way to put it. Getting good footage?”

Me and my camera watch as Joker pokes his head up over the lip of the crevasse. Next to me Elena gives a little whooping cheer. “Yeah,” I say, turning so that Elena’s in the shot. She looks over at me, looks down, the lens reflecting in her helmet, flashes index and middle finger in a v at me. “You could say that.”

“Good. Well, that’s all, just wanted to check in with you.”

“Heard about you and Peter,” I blurt before I can stop myself. Makado grunts questioningly, and I roll my eyes at placing my foot directly in my own mouth as usual. “You know,” I clarify, “in the supply closet.”

There’s a moment of frozen silence and then Makado bursts out laughing. “Goddam it,” she sputters. “Slate told everyone, didn’t he?”

“More or less.”

“That fucker. Well, yeah. We, ah, got a little carried away.”

“I’m happy for you,” I tell her, and I find myself mildly surprised that it’s actually true. “He’s right here if you want to talk to –“

“No, no, it’s okay, I’ve actually been talking to him all day, more or less. Cause, you know, the equipment up here, I can put a direct line in to whichever one of you I like.”

“Right, of course.”

“Well,” Makado says, and I smile softly to myself beneath the helmet.

“See you, Mak.”

“See you.”

The radio line clicks off and then I’m alone inside my own head again.

Joker is dripping with blood now and I make sure I take plenty of video of him; a couple of stills as well, just because it looks metal. Like something straight out of a movie. Then once Euler has checked him over and wiped off the worst of it we go back to trudging down the vent like nothing has happened. Euler takes more care to keep Joker walking in step behind us and though Elena points out a couple of the fissures to me, skin crawling as I examine the thin membranous layer separating them from the air, nobody falls into any more.

Another couple of hours of walking and then another break. I have to go back three menus to check the time on my camera; some of the others’ helmets, I’m told, have heads-up displays on the interior that show details like that; mine either doesn’t have this functionality or it’s switched off so as to not overwhelm me with extraneous visual noise. It’s six in the evening; Elena tells me that the plan is to make it to our stopping point for the day by nine or ten. We’re over the worst of it, she says grinning, and then because we’re towards the back with only Joker behind us to see, she reaches down and squeezes my ass lightly and I respond in the only way I know how, by upping the ante, and reaching for her and groping her taut breasts clumsily through the suit before she spins away from me laughing. I still cast a nervous glance behind and meet Joker’s faceless metal gaze. I peer at him again for a little before I turn back around. I haven’t told Euler yet of what happened in the gondola on the way down but the more I think about it and turn it over in my head the more I’m convinced it must have been nothing. Just a little software glitch of some kind.

It amazes me how easily the fantastic surroundings I’m in become mundane. Just scant hours ago I was nearly getting sick breathing the air but now I’m grateful for it when I pop my helmet and gulp down great lungfuls of it, cloying and organic and thick but not recycled, not passed through a dozen filters before reaching my lungs.

We’re in the Organ Trail proper now, great wide cavities and veins and vesicles and all these other little fiddly medical names that pass between everybody like old friends but which leave me halting. What’s the difference between a vein and a vent? A vesicle and a ventricle? What about an organ and a cavity? I don’t know, and if I asked I’d only expose my ignorance, I’d only be patronized. I did ask Elena a few innocuous questions in that nature but every time she answered me she did so with a smug little smile and it made me feel small so eventually I stopped asking, even though I know she probably didn’t mean to do it.

Break. Another granola bar, another bottle of water. Have to stay hydrated. Sergeant comes around to all of us, makes sure we’re drinking enough. He doesn’t bark at me, he’s – not kind, but not awful. I hold hands with Elena surreptitiously there in the dark and though I can barely feel her through the thick suit, knowing she’s there is a comfort.

I think about Erica’s boy, whoever he was to her. There wasn’t enough of a resemblance for me to think that they were family but obviously she cares about him. I think about him alone down here for almost four days now. I think about how scared I’d be in the same position.

I have to fucking piss.

I get up and Elena eyes me. “Where’re you going?”

“To take a leak. What’s the protocol down here, just squat down and go wherever?”

She makes a face. “Unfortunately. If you’re male you have the luxury of using an empty water bottle but if not…”

“Right,” I say. I’ve gone camping before so the concept isn’t entirely foreign to me but it still isn’t particularly tasteful either. I make my way towards a discrete corner, a little fold of flesh that drapes down from the ceiling like a curtain.

“Don’t go far!” Elena calls from behind me, and I throw her a thumbs-up without turning. It’ll just take a moment anyway. Behind the curtain is actually another corridor – a vent, I guess, is the term everyone else seems to use most commonly. I eye it a little warily before I step forward. It’s dark in there, and I feel a little more exposed than I thought I would as I unzip the bottom portion of the suit and squat down, choosing a dingy little corner, a little wrinkled knot of flesh like the accordion-like joint between the thumb and the rest of the hand.

I do my business quickly and then seal the suit, taking time to check all of the joints like I was shown in the brief training the engineer fitting me had given. I –

Something moves in the vent ahead of me and I freeze. I can’t see it properly, it’s far too dark, but it seems large, larger than I am. I take a hesitant step back, eyes locked on its wavering silhouette, and then I reach down with my thumb along the side of the helmet, carried loosely at my side, and press the button for the headlamp, and it casts a beam of light over the thing, and it is so large, larger than me, towering at least eight feet tall there in the vent, all whipping tentacles and soft spongy tissue. It has wide, strange eyes that peer at me blearily in the sudden light, its long, snakelike, curiously vulnerable-looking body surrounded by a halo of pale venous fronds or tendrils, light pink and throbbing. It reaches out for me and I start to scream but the sound catches in my throat, and then I take a panicked, scrambling step backwards and the cleats dig in the wrong way and I pitch to the ground. I hit hard, knock the air from my lungs, and then I really can’t scream even though my brain has finally caught up with what’s happening and I’m trying to force my abused lungs to work, all I can manage is a little croaking noise.

The thing scuttles closer to me. The tendrils are starting to wrap around my leg and I kick at it and scoot backwards, but they tighten around my ankle and hold me still. I can feel terror inside of me like I’m a cocoon, like it’s clawing at my skin and if it makes a hole in me I’ll disappear, evaporate, vanish, I’ll scream and scream and -

“Roan?” Elena calls. It sounds as though she’s coming towards the coil of flesh I’d hidden behind. “We’re getting ready to go.”

“Help,” I manage to croak, and then Elena bolts around the corner, her pistol already clearing the holster. I feel the tendrils around my leg loosen and then slip away as she marches towards the thing completely fearlessly. She isn’t even pointing the gun at it. She stands up on her tiptoes as best she can in the bulky cleats and stares at it, stares it down, the thing retreating on its millions of whiplike tentacles, before finally it turns tail and flees down the vent, making a noise like pudding being poured into a bag full of live eels.

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter as Elena helps me up. “What the fuck was that?”

“Venous shamble,” she tells me. “Big one, too. Would have stuck a proboscis in you and sucked you dry if you let it. Why didn’t you shoot it or something? They’re pussies, even if you missed it would have run away.”

“I didn’t think of it,” I say quietly, looking at her. I can feel myself trembling with the comedown of the adrenaline and I feel defensive. “I didn’t - I don’t know, I froze up and -“

Elena’s face falls, and then she is crouching next to me and undoing my helmet gently, cradling me in her arms. “It’s okay,” she tells me. “It’s okay, nobody could expect you to do any different.”

I blow a big breath out. “Okay,” I say. “Okay, I’m good.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes. Here, come here.”

“What is it?”

“Kiss me,” I tell her, and I see Elena grin.

“We are moving, ladies!” the Sergeant calls from back in the main chamber, and both of us jump. Elena hauls me to my feet and I slot the helmet back onto the neck of the suit.

“Thanks for saving me,” I tell her, and though she rolls her eyes she still smiles at me.

“Why do I feel like I’m going to hear that a lot from you?” she asks, and I shrug and then we hold hands for the next two hours, there at the back with Joker trudging along behind us with squishy pneumatic footfalls, and after long enough of that I finally, finally feel my insides loosen up and the terror that had been lurking inside of me gradually vanish.

The rest of the night passes without incident. We make it to the broad flat exposed bone plate that we’d planned to camp on and Fumi sets up a portable stove and passes around MREs. I get one that’s a vegetable omelet and though Elena offers to trade with me because apparently it is the foulest piece of food science that the US Military has ever seen fit to inflict on its soldiers and I, being a mere civilian, am unprepared to face its manifold horrors, I actually kind of like it, especially once I mix in the little hot sauce packet.

Afterwards, Elena helps me set up the weird hexagon-panelled tent, which I am hopelessly confused by, inside one of the many vents leading to the basin, which she explains is necessary because the tent has to brace against the vent walls in order to keep its shape. Eventually she laughs at me, though not unkindly, and tells me not to worry about it, she’ll set it up. The tents are two-person, and there seem to be a series of accustomed pairs, Fumi and Ellis, Klaus and Slate, Crookshank and the Sergeant. Elena, when I ask her, tells me that she got a tent to herself normally. That leaves Peter and Euler to bunk up together, but they seem to be getting along alright, so that all works out, I suppose. We’ve left Joker there on the bone plate by himself. Euler hasn’t shut him down but put him into some sort of guard mode so he’ll wake us if anything gets into the basin, but Elena assures me that up this high in the Pit nothing noteworthy is going to bother us. The biggest things up here, she says, are the shambles, and they only bother to attack isolated stragglers, things they know they can kill. They’re very fragile, apparently, and know it.

Elena goes to relieve herself and I clamber into the tent, lay out the mats and sleeping bags. I double-check the map on my suit computer, make sure I know which vent leads to the ballast bulb Makado had mentioned to me. Just thinking about it gives me shivers but I resolve not to worry about it until later. Then I strip my suit off and then shrug out of my underclothes as well. My hair is a little lank from being in a helmet all day and although I’ve applied antiperspirant liberally I can’t escape the suspicion that I don’t smell anywhere close to roses.

No matter. I drape myself across the sleeping bags in what I hope is a sexy manner and play with myself lightly until finally Elena unzips the tent.

“Sorry I took so long,” she says, clambering inwards. She hasn’t seen me yet, she’s making sure her pack makes it inside. “Fumi is fucking with the stove and –“

She sees me then and her mouth drops open. I keep my voice low and sultry.

“How should I reward my savior?” I ask her, and she puts the bag down slowly, a grin spreading across her face.

“I could think of a few ways,” she says, her voice low and husky, and then she is crawling over to me. Her lips meet mine and become entangled and she is slipping her suit down around her shoulders with my one-handed help, and then her hands are roaming over my breasts and my stomach and my thighs and the place where my thighs meet, and then what she does to me next makes me stop thinking.

 * * *

 “Mm.”

“That was nice.”

“Here, hold me. Tighter.”

“If I hold you any tighter you’ll break something.”

“Do you ever feel,” I ask, shifting myself slowly around in her arms so that I could face her, “as if you simply can’t get close enough to someone once you’ve just made love? Like, you’ve got your arms around them and you’ve put your leg up over their hip –“

“Like this?”

“Yes, just like that. And you’ve got your face pressed just here into their collarbone and you can feel them breathing against you, but it just isn’t close enough?”

“I know what you mean.”

“That’s how I feel.”

“That tickles, don’t kiss me there.”

“But you have such a nice collarbone,” I tell her. “How can I not kiss it?”

“God,” Elena laughs. “That’s so cute. You are so damn cute, has anyone told you that?”

“Once or twice, but I don’t mind hearing it again.”

“This really is your first time with a girl?”

“Yes, if we don’t count last night.”

“You’re very good.”

“Mm. Call me a good girl.”

“You’re a good girl.”

“Your good girl?”

“If you’d like to be.”

“I think I’d like that.”

Elena reaches up and puts her hand in my hair, holds me closer to her. I feel such a giddy upswelling of joy in my heart and stomach that I nearly start laughing. Elena feels it, some little shake or shudder in me, and looks down at me with sudden concern. “Are you okay?” she asks, and I nod.

“Yes, I’m just – happy.”

We are silent for a long while. I can feel Elena’s nimble fingers counting the vertebrae in my naked back, and her soft tapping touches make me shiver and clutch closer to her.

“Tell me about yourself,” she tells me, and I feel a little irrational stab of fear clench in my gut. “I don’t know hardly anything about you, just that we get on well.”

“Alright,” I say after a moment. “I grew up in Corpus Christi. No siblings, only child. I – “

“Me too.”

“Only child?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s nice, isn’t it?”

“God, no,” Elena laughs. “I was so lonely as a kid. My family, we lived way out in the boonies in Wisconsin, nobody around hardly. Just me and my folks.”

“It sounds nice.”

“You are not very much of a people person, are you?” she asks. She inclines her head downwards and kisses me on the forehead, and then I manage to scoot myself up enough that she can find my lips.

“What gave it away?”

“Tell me more. You grew up in Corpus Christi.”

“Went to school in Oklahoma. Got a degree in Literature, bounced around for a while doing journalist things. Worked at a television station for a while, ended up here.”

“How the hell did you end up here?”

“Same way you did, probably,” I grin. “Dumb luck.”

“No, really, I’m curious.”

Goddam it, Elena. I cup her breast in my hand. When I pull back from her to do so I can still feel her breathing against my chest, the ocean-swell rise and fall of hers fitting into mine. I run my thumb over her nipple and see her bite her lip, and I smile to myself, trying not to look too self-satisfied. Elena doesn’t let me enjoy it, though; she shakes her head at me and slips her hand over her breast, covers it from me. “Don’t avoid the question,” she says.

Goddam it, Elena.

I shrug, pretend embarrassment. “I knew someone in management who pulled the strings for me. Came in as an intern then got offered a full position and I accepted cause the pay was fantastic. I do clerical stuff, mostly, you know, data entry, office stuff. I was afraid to tell you, cause…”

“Cause why?”

I decide, for once, to tell her the truth. “Because you intimidate me,” I say. I look her in the eyes for as long as I can muster before I shut mine and bury my face in her collarbone again. I lasted about five seconds. Her eyes are ferociously grey. “Because I feel like you’re going to realize that I’m not –“ I start, and then I realize what I’m saying and cut myself off.

“I don’t want to know how that sentence ends,” she says firmly, taking my head gently in her hands and bringing it up to hers. “You lock that down,” she tells me, pressing her forehead to mine, staring at me. I force myself to look at her, even offer her a tiny smile, or at least I try to, but it feels like the same great hand that’s wrenching at my heart is tugging at my lips as well.

“I just don’t – Elena, there’s –“

Where the hell am I going with that? What am I going to say? There’s nothing I can say.

“Shh. Don’t.”

“Goddam it,” I mutter helplessly. She doesn’t understand, I can tell from the way she’s looking at me. Mute sympathy writ large in those wide, pretty eyes. Fuck.

“Look,” she says. “If you’re having doubts it’s, it’s okay. If it’s just sex maybe that’s one thing, but I don’t know if you want to think of anything more, I don’t know how you feel, but if I make you feel bad or wrong or guilty or -“

“Don’t let’s talk about it,” I tell her. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?”

I let out a little laugh, barely a breath’s worth. “I have a lot of things I’m sorry for.”

“Has it been a while for you?”

“How do you mean?”

“Being with anyone, I mean.”

I feel like I’m going to cry. This isn’t going how I wanted it to. I don’t know how I wanted it to go. This isn’t it.

I feel a huge, stupid paroxysm of guilt welling up inside of me. I turn around so I don’t have to look at Elena, so she doesn’t have to look at me. She puts her arms around me, one arm draped across my chest, tucking me close to her, the other slipping down around my hip and pulling me closer in to her. I can feel the tapered v that her hips and her thighs make resting softly against my ass. She’s so warm.

“Roan,” she says. I can feel her lips moving against the back of my neck. “I don’t know what’s happened to you in the past, I don’t know what kind of shit you’ve had to go through. But I promise that nothing you can tell me is going to change –“

She thinks it’s about her. I almost laugh out loud at the simplicity of it. She thinks I’m having regrets, she thinks – she thinks whatever kind of pathetic moral compass I have spinning in circles inside of me is disagreeing with my monkey hormones’ efforts to make me cum. Goddam it.

“I’m gonna hurt you,” I tell her, knowing as I say it that it’s true. “I’m not going to mean to but I’m going to anyway, I’m going to hurt you, I’m going to fuck this up, and I don’t want to –“

“Roan –“

“- and I’m fucking dreading it because the last relationship I was in was not good, and I don’t want to believe that I’ve been changed by it, but –“

Alright Roan, you can stop now.

“- and I’m just scared because I don’t want to hurt you, I don’t want you to hate me, and -“

“Roan!”

I stop. I put my face in my hands. I feel a tiny drop of moisture on my back and I realize that Elena must be crying, and I roll over. “Oh no,” I tell her. “No, no, goddam it, don’t cry, I didn’t mean to –“

“You didn’t make me cry,” she tells me. “I’m crying because whatever happened to you, you didn’t deserve it, and hearing you like this makes me so sad –“

“Elena –“

She hushes me again and for a long, long while we lay there entangled, her lips pressed to my collarbone now, her sweet-smelling hair in my face, and she holds me so tightly that I finally begin to calm down. I think for a long, long while about what I should say, about what I should tell her that might excuse the – the mess I made of what should have been a relatively pleasant evening, but then as her breaths ripsaw upwards into tiny wheezing snores, I realize that it doesn’t really matter.

It takes me about ten minutes to slowly extricate myself from her grasp, to grab my suit and snake my way out of the tent with it in tow. I turn back around to zip the tent back up and I see Elena’s eyes cracked open, watching me, and though I almost jump I give her a soft little smile.

“Where are you going?” she groans, reaching out for me, and I lean back in and take her hand, bring it to my mouth and kiss her on the knuckles.

“I have to take a piss,” I tell her. “I’ll be back soon, go back to sleep.”

She looks as though she wants to protest but she’s too sleepy to do so. She gives me a little smile and then falls back onto her pillow, and I zip the tent up and shrug into my suit quickly. It feels strange and coarse on me, not having bothered to put on any underclothes beforehand, but it’ll do.

Then I turn and make my way as silently as I can towards the dark branching offshoot of tunnel that I marked as the path to the ballast bulb.

Continue with Part 17

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[chocolvte]

STRAY KIDS REACTION — they finally get to meet their long distance s/o

LISTEN TO — what are you up to by kang daniel

BANG CHAN

chan had promised himself he wouldn’t cry when he saw you for the first time, but there you were, right in front of him for the first time ever, and here he was, with tears falling down his cheeks. he gave you the BIGGEST hug when he saw you, lifting you up a little with the force of it.

“channie, i can’t breathe!” you squeaked in pain, but you were smiling so much your cheeks hurt.

“i’m sorry,” he finally put you down after one more squeeze, smiling so big you thought his face must ache more than yours. “you just look even cuter in person.”

MINHO

you and minho had been talking for just over seven months before you found out that your university offered a study abroad program for your major, with the option to stay in japan, thailand, or (sometimes you really couldn’t believe your luck) south korea. the only person you told was chan, wanting to make it a surprise. the apartment they gave you was only a few blocks away from the dorms, so one night, about a week after you moved in, chan texted you telling you to come over.

you wish you could’ve taken a picture of the look on minho’s face. he started crying (something he now vehemently denies), wrapping you up in the tighest hug he could manage in his state of shock, moving slowly as if he still wasn’t sure this was real. you felt the moment he realized it was really you, relaxing into you with a sigh of relief like he had had his head underwater for a long time and he was finally coming up to breath. he laughed a little. “i can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

CHANGBIN

as much as you wanted to surprise him, you were way too excited and told him as soon as you knew you were moving. you and binnie had been dating for almost a year at this point and it was starting to get really difficult. in the beginning it was like a game, figuring out when you could talk and texting each other constantly, but lately it was just really hard being apart, especially since you had never even met in person. but finally, after eleven months, the stars aligned and you were offered a position in seoul, which meant the wait was finally over.

“i can’t believe you’re here,” changbin rocked you gently back and forth, arms wrapped around your shoulders. you had yours looped around his middle, but you pulled away a little to press a kiss to his jaw.

“me neither.”

HYUNJIN

before felix moved to korea, he and you were really close friends, which is how you met hyunjin. felix used to facetime you all the time just to keep you updated and to have a familiar face to vent to. one night, hyunjin happened to be sitting next to him on the couch while he was talking to you. he only glanced over at you for a second, but that was all it took. before he knew what was happening he was falling for you, hard.

hyunjin knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that you would probably need to see each other in person at some point for this to work, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still completely floored when he saw you waiting patiently for him in one of the dressing rooms.

“i’m so happy right now,” hyunjin admitted after he got over the shock of seeing you. he was cupping your face, stroking his thumbs over your cheeks and looking at you with this adorable fond smile. “you’re so much cuter in person. i want to keep you in my pocket.”

JISUNG

can you spell inseparable? he’s been waiting forever for you to come visit and now that it’s finally a reality, he’s never letting you go. everywhere he goes, you’re coming too, and good luck getting him to ever let you go. on a real note, when your visit is finally over and it’s time for you to go home he would have such a hard time. he hates being far away from you (to be honest i don’t know how long a long distance relationship could last with him, he just misses you too much), so this is really hard for him. he definitely cries (even though he tried so hard not to) and gives you like a million good bye kisses and presents so you don’t forget about him (as if that could ever happen.)

FELIX

he’s surprisingly good at handling the distance, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t felt your absence like a physical ache in his chest every single day. every time he sees something cool or learns something new, his first instinct is always to tell you, but he can never do that with you living so far away.

when you decided to make the move, felix would be so. excited. he tries his best not to show it too much, but he can’t stop the huge smile that spreads across his face every time you mention the move.

the running hug he gave you once you landed was kdrama worthy, nearly crushing you in the process, but feeling him in your arms, for real, for the first time was almost too overwhelming. neither of you could stop smiling that day.

SEUNGMIN

as much as seungmin tried to pretend to be okay, it was starting to bother him more and more that he had never met you in person. never hugged you, never kissed you, never poked your cute little cheeks. keeping the secret that you were visiting was almost torture, both for you and the other boys, because everyone could see how down he was, but it was all worth it when you finally surprised him at practice one morning, walking into the room like it was something that happened every day.

“oh hi, minnie.”

“y/n???” seungmin smiled bigger than you’ve ever seen him smile, throwing himself at you in a huge hug so he could finally press kisses all over your face.

JEONGIN

jeongin never expected to get into a long distance relationship, but one day he came across you instagram account and that’s all it took. and as much as he loved you, it hurt not being able to see you every day the way other couples could. jeongin could feel himself getting slowly sadder every day, though he tried to hide it, which is why he almost couldn’t believe it when he came home one night after practice to see you sitting calmly on his bed, a happy smile spread across your cute little face.

he couldn’t even get any words out before he was launching himself at you in a giant hug, so happy he could hardly breathe. “i’m so happy you’re here.”