#there is not a single line from the characters

[aventurineswife]

hello~ I was hoping I could make a teensy (hopefully it stays teensy request XP) Dan Heng, Aventurine, Dr Ratio, Jing yuan, Jiaoqiu and AE!Sunday with a s/o or spouse who gets cold very easily but they remain quiet and dont complain abt it out loud to avoid being a bother XPc 🍮♠

Unspoken Warmth

Summary: Your partner notices your quiet endurance of the cold and offers warmth in their unique way, despite your reluctance to show weakness.

Tags: Dan Heng x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Dr. Ratio x Reader, Jing Yuan x Reader, Jiaoqiu x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Fluff, Comfort, Quiet Intimacy, Cold Weather Care, Protective Characters, Emotional Support, Silent Love, Soft Moments

You never complained about the cold. Not once. The chill of the wind outside the Astral Express had crept into your bones, and while most would have found the drop in temperature unbearable, you kept your discomfort to yourself. Dan Heng, however, was not one to miss the subtle shiver that ran through your body as you sat near the windows, gazing out into the vast, starry void.

He had noticed it before. How you would curl into yourself just a little tighter when the cold crept in, how you would sit with your shoulders drawn in, silently enduring the icy air without a single word of complaint. It wasn’t like you to ask for anything—Dan Heng knew that much. He respected it, perhaps more than you realized.

But that didn’t mean he was blind to it.

One evening, as the train hummed steadily through the vastness of space, he sat beside you, his sharp gaze flicking over the space around you. It had gotten colder, the sort of bite in the air that left no room for doubt. Yet you remained still, your posture ever so slight in your discomfort.

Without saying anything, he stood up and moved toward the cabin's storage. You heard the faint rustle of fabric, and then he returned, holding a thick, dark cloak draped over his arm.

“This should help,” he murmured, his voice soft but firm, as he carefully wrapped the cloak around your shoulders.

The warmth that radiated from the fabric immediately enveloped you, a small relief from the chill that had been gnawing at your skin. You opened your mouth to thank him but caught yourself. He was already back in his seat, his spear resting against the wall beside him. His demeanor hadn't shifted—stoic, calm, as always.

But then, you noticed the subtle change in his expression. His gaze, soft yet insistent, met yours for the briefest of moments. It wasn’t pity, but understanding. You weren’t the only one who carried silent burdens.

“I’ve got your back,” he added quietly, as though reading your thoughts.

And you knew, without needing to say a word, that he would always be there, silently offering warmth when you least expected it.

The cold had arrived swiftly, settling in with the smooth precision of a well-played hand in a game of cards. But unlike the calculated nature of your partner, this sudden chill seemed to have caught you off guard. Your body shivered slightly as the evening air settled over Aventurine’s apartment, the cold creeping into your bones.

You didn’t complain. You never did. Despite the discomfort of your quiet shivers, you simply curled your arms around yourself, hoping the warmth of your own body would be enough to stave off the cold.

But Aventurine—always observant, always attuned to the smallest details—had noticed. His sharp eyes flicked toward you, noting the way you hugged your arms tighter to your chest. He did not ask, he did not speak aloud, but within moments, you felt his presence beside you.

He draped his coat over your shoulders, the fur lining warm against your skin. You blinked in surprise, raising your head to meet his amused, yet tender, smile.

“Never thought I’d see someone like you let the cold win,” he teased gently, though his tone carried no malice.

You couldn’t help but smile in return, though you still said nothing. Aventurine’s smile deepened, as if he understood your reluctance to voice your discomfort.

“Stay warm, my dear.” he whispered, his hand brushing your hair back with a softness that felt almost too tender for the flamboyant strategist.

As he moved to sit down beside you, his cloak still wrapped around your shoulders, you leaned into him, letting the warmth from both his coat and his presence soothe the cold. No words were needed. With Aventurine, you had learned that sometimes, silence was the most profound way to express affection.

The cold was biting, a stark contrast to the usual warmth of the laboratory. You hadn’t said a word about it, of course. You never did. Your pride was too strong, your desire to not be a burden too ingrained in you. But that didn’t stop the creeping chill from seeping into your skin.

Ratio, ever perceptive despite his sharp and often dismissive nature, had noticed the subtle way your shoulders hunched as you worked alongside him. The shivering that danced along your arms hadn’t escaped his sharp eyes.

He did not comment. There was no question in his tone when he moved from the desk to the shelves, his fingers brushing over vials and medical instruments with precise ease. He returned a moment later with a heated compress, offering it to you without so much as a word.

“Place it here.” he instructed, gesturing to your hands.

You blinked at him, surprise momentarily breaking your usual calm demeanor. You hadn’t expected him to notice, much less to care.

Ratio’s eyes met yours—intense, unwavering, yet there was a flicker of something softer behind them. A quiet acknowledgment of your discomfort.

“It’s not weakness,” he added in a rare moment of tenderness. “Sometimes, even the strongest need a little help.”

You didn’t need to speak, but you gave him a small, grateful nod, the warmth from the compress beginning to seep into your body, making the cold feel a little less sharp.

It had become a routine. The cold would set in, and you would remain silent about it. You never asked for his attention, never begged for warmth, but Jing Yuan—calm, calculating, always two steps ahead—had noticed.

The evening had grown cold, and though you tried to remain composed, Jing Yuan’s sharp eyes caught the subtle way you tucked your arms around yourself, the faint shiver that ran through your form.

He didn’t speak a word at first, content to observe from a distance as you tried to maintain your stoic composure. But after a few moments, he stood, slowly walking toward you with the same deliberate pace he always maintained, his golden eyes softening with a quiet understanding.

Without asking, he wrapped a thick blanket around you, his hands brushing over your shoulders as he adjusted it for maximum comfort. His actions were practical, yet there was a gentleness in his touch that spoke volumes.

“You should have said something,” he murmured quietly, his voice carrying no reproach, only a subtle note of care.

You offered a faint smile, though you still didn’t speak, content to let the warmth of the blanket and his presence surround you. Jing Yuan simply nodded, his gaze distant but kind.

“I’m here,” he added softly, his usual authority giving way to something more personal. “Next time, let me know if you’re cold.”

And with that, you knew—without a word—that he would always be there to offer warmth, whether spoken or unspoken.

The cold came as it often did, unannounced and relentless. You tried to ignore it, as you always did, curling up with your thoughts and your work, pretending the biting chill didn’t bother you.

But Jiaoqiu, perceptive as always, saw through your act. His gentle eyes studied you from across the room as he prepared his alchemical concoctions, his hands steady and graceful. When he noticed the subtle tremble of your body, he moved toward you, his expression calm but his intent clear.

Without a word, he produced a thick, soft blanket from one of his cabinets and carefully draped it around your shoulders, ensuring you were warm but not overwhelmed.

“I know you don’t like to ask for help,” he said, his voice low and comforting, “but you don’t need to suffer in silence.”

You met his gaze, and for a moment, the weight of unspoken words hung between you. You hadn’t needed to say anything, yet Jiaoqiu knew exactly what you needed. The warmth from the blanket and his thoughtful gesture melted some of the cold, but it was the warmth of his care that truly made the difference.

And for the first time that day, you let yourself relax, allowing Jiaoqiu’s presence to be the healing you didn’t know you needed.

The cold had always been a silent companion. You never complained about it. You never showed weakness. It wasn’t that you didn’t mind the chill—it was simply a matter of pride. You would endure it silently.

But Sunday, ever the observant leader, had noticed. He saw the way your movements became just a bit stiffer, how your usual calm demeanor seemed to falter as the temperature dropped.

One evening, as you stood near the window of your shared quarters aboard the Astral Express, lost in thought, he approached without a word. You felt the weight of his presence before you heard his soft voice.

“You should’ve said something,” he murmured, his words carrying the authority of a leader, but with the gentleness of someone who truly cared.

Before you could respond, Sunday wrapped his long, elegant coat around you, pulling you gently into his embrace. The warmth of his body, combined with the softness of the fabric, melted the chill in your bones.

“You are not a burden,” he whispered, the quiet conviction in his tone breaking through your usual restraint. “I would have done this sooner if you had let me.”

For the first time, you didn’t feel the need to hide your discomfort. Sunday’s embrace, his warmth, was enough to make you forget the cold, not just around you, but inside as well.

[rockrosethistle]

woah reblogging this to address some points that have been brought up

The main point I was trying to convey in this post was that the pastel Addams family trope is so much fresher and more entertaining than just circling back to "man is religious and therefore abusive." One thing that's cool about the Chasitys is that their dynamic isn't one you see often, especially in modern media. By assuming Mark is evil or Karen is a victim or any other of those things, it actively takes away from what makes them unique. "But it feels like there's something sinister under the surface..." Yes, their daughter killed a man. That's the sinister secret.

I did not say the Chasitys are perfect parents to Grace. They have a lot of flaws. But so does Bill Woodward, and I've never seen him held to the same level of scrutiny. Of course there's a lot wrong with them. There is not a single parent in Hatchetfield without something wrong with them. But to only look at their flaws, or reduce them down to just the worst parts is a mischaracterization.

When dealing with religious characters, it is important to remember that they truly believe in their religion, even if you don't. When Mark and Karen encourage Grace in getting the dance canceled and tell her "this is no moan household," it's not because they are trying to control or hurt her. It because they genuinely believe that is what is best for her. Is that a flawed perspective? Absolutely. But a child raised in a Christian household being told to practice abstinence is the same thing as a child raised in any other religious environment being told to do any other religious practice. It genuinely comes from a place of love, meaning that even if Mark and Karen are misinformed, they are not malicious.

Bottom line is, please just let them be nerds. They are so funny and honestly have a lot of potential.

I feel like this fandom keeps misinterpreting the Chasitys. Specifically Mark and Karen.

Because every fic I read about them, Mark is this oppressive force on the girls, and Karen keeps her mouth shut and nods along. And while I understand how that can set up some really interesting plots, I think it overlooks how they're really a lot more like The Addams Family.

They just have this weird shared interest, and they're all dressed in their little pastels, and the town doesn't understand them but that's okay because they understand eachother. That is just so more entertaining than 'religious man is judgey.'

Also, in the short time we get with them, Mark Chasity is completely pleasant and positive! He's actually the more easygoing of the two!

And they both obviously care a lot about their daughter, at least enough to notice a change in her behaviour.

Guys. Can we just let these weirdos love eachother. It's so important to me

[cowboylikeyouu]

i finally watched the making of deadpool & wolverine and wrote down every thought that popped up into my mind while watching, have fun lol

god hugh jackman is gorgeous

they’re talking about all the different ideas they had for this movie and honestly??? i would eat up every single one of them they should still do it lol

god hugh jackman is GORGEOUS

man i missed them sm i haven’t watched dp&w in TWO MONTHS?????

i will never shut up about the deadpool suit in this movie it’s SO AWESOME it’s a blessing for my eyes every time it’s on screen

"that’s what we were striving for with rdj in endgame, is to give this iconic fictional character an amazing ending." yeah well only that endgame‘s ending SUCKED and i will never forgive anyone for it <3

ugh hugh jackman is gorgeous

i could watch him speak forever

i‘m SO glad ryan made that "i should use his body as a weapon" pitch bc GODDAMN that opening scene will never get old

ahhhhhh i love that we‘re getting some insight in the stunt/fight stuff, SO interesting !! the shitty iphone test videos are hilarious

they should’ve made a "he ACTUALLY broke his toe when he kicked that helmet!!!!" reference when ryan kicked logan‘s skull lmao

the marry puppins SNOGGING ryan bts clips will never get old lmao funniest shit ever

THE SUIT LOOKS SO GOOD UGHHHH am i having a gender or a sexuality crisis over it???? guess we’ll never know

EMMA CORRIN ILYSM

shout out to british people gotta be one of my fav genders fr

all the different lines ryan screamed out of the honda????😭😭 honestly they should’ve just kept all of these idc about logic

EMMA CORRIN

"and i knew the fans would love it" ohhh hugh i think we all love it a bit too much

"and yet, i wouldn’t say wolverine is a straight man" awesome, thanks, case fucking CLOSED.

"which i don’t recommend, sending a 10 minute voice memo to anyone"

*me looking at the five 10-20 minute voicemails i send my friends every single day*

THE SUITS LOOK SO GOOD TOGETHER (their asses do as well)

GOD hugh jackman is gorgeous

"what we refer to as the van fight" no babe that’s the honda odyssey sex marathon actually!!

"violence is our love language" ITS CONFIRMED (everyone knew. BUT STILL)

choreographing this scene (all the deadpool vs wolverine fight scenes really) must’ve been SO FUN like UGH just coming up with all this violence knowing that it won’t affect your characters in the long haul and you can add of many of it as you want????? THE DREAM

THEM HUGGING IN THE HONDA???😭😭 brb gotta cry

I LOVE YOU EMMA CORRIN

CHRIS EVANS LOML

it’s unfair how attractive he is i‘m gonna throw up

reminder to myself to finally learn johnny‘s monologue i wanna be able to randomly hit people with it

OHHHH i actually did NOT realize that was hulk‘s bed from ragnarok??? which is weird bc i used to watch that movie religiously. but hey that’s so cool!!

channing tatum talking about gambit is so heartwarming man so happy for him😭

jennifer garner is so pretty i‘m so gay lord help

me

dafne keen‘s voice sounds SO different when she’s not playing laura, CRAZY

EMMA CORRIN MY LOVE

just once just ONCE i wanna walk through a street filme set like this UGH it looks so cool & surreal

"this is our baby yoda" i have to be this annoying person i‘m sorry but HIS NAME IS GROGU

i don’t know shit about music but i could listen to people talk about movie scores for hours on end (how did you know sideways is my fav youtube video essayist???)

good fucking god hugh jackman is gorgeous

lmao they should’ve kept the "zoooombies wake uuuppp" again, idc about logic

EMMA CORRIN ‼️‼️‼️

ohh hugh jackman is gorgeous (put your greasy tits away you preening slut)

ugh i‘m getting emotional help

well that was awesome, gonna cry myself to sleep now byeee

(have i mentioned how gorgeous hugh jackman is?)

[swampstew]

One long night

Summary: short, multi-chapter choose your adventure story. not thought out a single bit. you're the main character,this is your rodeo and Captain Kid is your bull ;)

Warnings: Eustass Kid X Female Reader, consent is implied, femdom dynamics forced orgasm, exhibitionism because its at a dark pub in the back. WC: 971

There was little left of the dive bar the Kid Pirates trashed that evening. Some still-standing yet drunk as fuck local islanders scattered around the place, the busted lights cast a hazy, dim glow in the already dark bar.

Not that the Kid Pirates minded, it was how they liked to wind down before the night ended.

You, Kid and the crew had been sharing stories and laughing over jokes for a while and the chatter quieted down as they drank and polished off the food on the tables. They dwindled and eventually left with knowing glances at each other, but you and Kid were drunkenly talking and barely noticed when the table was empty.  The remaining crew drifted to harass the patrons and mingled with whoever was still around.

“I’m gonna grab us some waters,” you headed to the bar to hydrate and throw down extra cash for tips and damages. You always felt a little bad for owners of businesses they fucked up. It was your collateral-damage cash.

The bartender gave you extra-large mugs filled with ice cubes, and in your inebriated state made you a bit clumsy as you walked back to the table without spilling drop or cube. At the table, Kid had kicked aside the chairs, placing his weapons strap and loose items on the empty seats and table..

Setting the glasses gently down, you felt Kid’s fingers ghost across the small of your back, grazing them to your waist as he guided you to sit in his lap. You tried to ignore the hot buzz you felt along your body as he moved you. You shifted to get comfortable while Kid was finishing his liquor when he suddenly coughed and shuddered underneath you.

“You ok, Boss?”

He cleared his throat before answering, “Y-yeh, drink jus’ went down the wrong pipe.”

Kid prompted you to give him his water, and he let out a few coughs before his voice wasn’t as strained. When his breathing felt more regulated, you brought up a topic from earlier in the day you wanted to double back on – just looking for something to talk about and ignore the fact that you were both past the point of sobriety, and you were plainly sitting in his lap.

He listened and leaned forward to set the half-drunk mug down, and when he sat back upright you had to adjust yourself again having slid down his massive thighs.

Sculpted muscles. Muscles so ripped, you could feel the curves and edges of his quadriceps through the fabric of his pants.

You shifted once more and felt Kid freeze underneath you.

Then you felt something else.

Slowly growing underneath your ass, awakened from the repetitive stimulation. You sucked in a breath when you realized it was his dick.

“Ah-s-sorry, didn’t mean to—” you stammered out.

“It’s ok,” he said tensely. “It happens…”

“I can get off—”

“No,” he cut you off, “It’ll pass. His fingers absentmindedly trailed on the hem of your shirt, trying to steel his mind on to something else. Inadvertently trailing his fingers lower until they dipped beneath the hem touching your bare skin.

Your body broke out in goosebumps, you couldn’t help the shudder that went through your body, shifting on his still-growing erection. You could hear Kid’s jaw click from how hard he clenched them.

Truthfully, you always found him attractive and dreamt more than once about it would be like to smudge that line between captain and subordinate. Feeling for once like you were in position of all the power, you allowed your loosely inhibited state persuade you to intentionally rock on him.

You heard strained grunts as he processed your movements.

Hips dipped back and forth, pressing your wettened core against the promise behind his pants. It felt large, thick, and already so impossibly hard.

The low music that hummed around the bar droned out the others from your table. Only you and Kid existed now. In sensual silence.

You braced your elbows to the table, ass flushed backwards so Kid got a nice view as while you rocked against him. His fingers dug into your hips, trying to exert more force with your grinding.

Kid let out short huffs the closer he got to climax, brought to the brink so suddenly with purposefully long slides of your torturous cunt along his length. His cock stuttered, his arm wrapped around your waist as he pulled you tightly to his flushed torso. You felt the twitch of cock as he came with a near-silent, strangled groan.

You chuckled as you fully came to a stop. Spontaneously teasing Kid to completion had exerted you of your energy.

“S’mthing funny, ya asshole?” he muttered with face pressed to the nape of your neck.

“Nothing’s funny, I’m a lil’ proud of myself. I always wanted to do that.”

He said nothing for a minute before the room violently came to life. Kid activated his power and repelled everything in a frenzy inside the bar.

Knives, forks, trays shot out to stab, and weapons slashing and shooting down the bar tender and remaining patrons. Battering them and forcing them out the double wide door before it was barricaded.

“Is that a fact?” he lifted you up with his flesh arm and used his metal arm to clear the table. Kid put force into the way he shoved you belly flat to surface, holding your back down with just one hand.

“Since we’re sharing, this is something I’ve always wanted to do,” his kilt and belt buckles clinked when he pushed his pants down. “You had your fun, now I’ll show you my version of a fun time. Givin’ ya one chance to back out.”

Puffs of excitement prefaced your smirk, “The hell makes you think I’d so something stupid like that?”

[tloaak]

@endless-demon thank you so much for asking! it's a little complicated but I think simplification does a disservice to the issue and is exactly what people like David Seymour rely on to spread lies about historical context and current consequences. I'm putting this in a reblog because it's long, and I'm putting it on this post because I'd rather this video be the one to get seen. as always I'm pakeha and also not an expert, so I'm very open to corrections on details but im confident of the broad strokes.

so when the English first arrived to build settlements in aotearoa, they formed a treaty with Māori (te Tiriti o Waitangi), the people already living there, that the English can govern their own settlements, as long as they allowed for continued māori sovereignty (tino rangatiratanga). there exist two versions of the text, English and te reo Māori, which do not perfectly match. after this, the English settlers began acquiring massive swathes of land by legally questionable means, and asserting absolute sovereignty over these areas. these culminated in the land wars, which then lead to massive land confiscation as a form of both political punishment and colonization. the end result is that now the crown own nearly all land in aotearoa and claim absolute sovereignty over it.

now, the Māori text does not claim sovereignty over the property that the crown recognizes Māori own. the text promises, among other things, self determination for Māori, which is essentially impossible under a westminster system of government because they are currently a demographic minority. it's only very recent in our history that the crown has acknowledged the legitimacy of the te reo Māori text, and even more recently that we began to actually implement any of its principles. one of the biggest ways the treaty is used in modern day is to guarantee Māori have an opportunity at the table for major national decisions (particular those of environmental significance), and to defer organizational power for Māori issues to Māori communities.

the treaty principles bill seeks to water down these promises by allowing these rights to all new zealanders, "democratising" the treaty and removing those guarantees that have been so hard fought for by Māori. but, more importantly, it seeks to seed division and racism within this country to gather more support for the ACT party who are sponsoring this bill.

this bill was part of the coalition agreement by our current 3 party right wing government. the national party agreed to sponsor this bill to first reading (allowing public submission on the bill) but no further. I personally believe, along with many others, that when the time comes to vote for the second reading the act party will threaten to pull out of the coalition if the bill is not passed again, and our prime minister will not have the strength of character to stand up to his deputy. regardless, the relationship between the crown and Māori has already been damaged, both by the simple introduction of the bill as well as all the changes our current government has implemented.

as Paul Goldsmith, Minister for Treaty Negotiations outlined in his speech during the bill, the National party believe that te Tiriti must be killed, not in a single action, but by a thousand cuts, like the removal of references to the treaty from our legislation and curriculums, and the disestablishment of agencies like the Māori Health Authority, cuts to Māori advisors to govt departments, removing māori seats from local government, etc.

there's so much more to this issue, like the centuries of abuse and mistreatment of Māori by the crown authorities, how this abuse is ongoing to Māori children and adults today in state care, how iwi voices are our last line of defence against environmental and ecological damage by industry, the unilateral natural of the treaty reparation settlement process... but this is why this protest was staged in parliament today.

(in fact, there is a much larger protest taking place nationwide, scheduled to arrive the day the bill was supposed to be introduced. the bill was in fact introduced a week earlier, in a move many suspect was done to prevent exactly this kind of protest.)

as far as I'm concerned though? I think te pāti Māori achieved exactly what they wanted by this protest. they forced the government to drop the mask of civility, and force the protestors out of the building. and they showed their supporters that their protests are working - they felt threatened enough by this that they lashed out, felt a need to retaliate by suspending hana-rawhiti maipi-clarke from the house for 24 hours. the coalition are getting nervous

much better footage of the haka that shut down parliament today

[dropoutconfessions]

Everyone’s allowed to feel how they feel about K. You do not HAVE to like K. K is an imagination people and does not matter compared to reality people.

The actual problems that I think all this discourse is stemming from is a problem in not just fandom here but in fandom as a whole. It’s a problem of trends: Why is our attention so frequently held by the masculine and white? Why, when we expand the world and look into the interiority of side characters, is our focus so targeted on white men? Why are women so overlooked, why are people of color so often ignored?

This is a wider issue. A trickling down of real world racism affecting our little play spaces. And the problem is that an issue which appears in larger trends, an issue that is a general pattern of behavior, is not easy to fix. We can’t fix this by harassing individual people. We can’t fix this by ignoring it. We definitely can’t fix it by pretending like its a problem here and only here rather than everywhere.

I wouldn’t be so bitter about K and dislike of K if I wasn’t overly sensitive to the idea of POC and femme characters getting the short end of the stick. I wouldn’t be so apprehensive about SamEvan, which is a frankly adorable and lovely ship, if I could trust people in general to act right about black women. I wouldn’t be so mad when people call Jammer and his friends rude while ignoring anything Evan did if I hadn’t seen it as the start of a malicious pattern.

If I hadn’t been in fandoms where every single woman got called a Hideous Bitch and every single person of color was Secretly Evil then I wouldn’t even be posting this. If I hadn’t seen people latch onto men with three lines and refuse to even consider thinking about women with entire arcs, I wouldn’t care about the lack of K posts. It would just be opinion. But it’s not just opinion when it happens over and over again to the same kinds of characters every time.

I don’t think it’s that bad in the mismag fandom. I don’t WANT it to get that bad here. But I don’t know how else to stop it, so I type up little confessions, and I hope someone reads them and thinks about this shit a little bit before they post.

I think people should calm down and stop insulting each other. I think people should take a break, if they need one, from fandom. I think people should leave each other alone and quit passive aggressively throwing ‘shade’ at opinions they don’t like because there is NOTHING wrong with individual opinion. There IS something wrong with the pattern its a part of but you can’t blame a person for a pattern you see in them or else you’ll end up snapping at a monster that isn’t even there yet.

Most of what I want is for people to think about how they think. Nobody has to stop liking Evan (ofc) but it is and should be concerning that even in this relatively progressive space, I keep seeing the same patterns creep their subtle and insidious way into the things I love.

I think we can all do better than this. I think we can do much better. I think we deserve better, all of us, than all of this.

-

[randomfoggytiger]

So, ehat was your take of the podcast of these two old friends? I thought it was lovely and different than his other podcasts. She gets him to relax.

Now, what about the recreation of the picture they said they would do?:) I think they might have talked about the picture but not when the photoshoot would happen. Xmas is around the corner. Come on guys, give the Fandom a merry David-Gillian gift of all time! It's been a dry spell without your loving craziness. Hike up those stockings on your little legs, G, and hop onto those DD shoulders.

It'd be funny if they did, wouldn't it? It'd also be funny if they recreated it in a way that wouldn't hurt either of their backs, shoulders, or knees, too. XDDD

I had an excellent time with the podcast! It confirmed every single one of my suspicions, theories, and guestimations of their friendship: their personalities, their focuses, their dynamic then, their dynamic now, etc. It was refreshing. It was, for lack of a better word, simple: the facts were the facts were the facts, and there wasn't anything big or grand to be made of their interactions, past or present.

I liked hearing them talk over each other. I liked that both admitted to already butting heads in Season 1. I liked that both admitted they'd never thought to trade childhood stories, or cross their personal lives over.

Most of all, I loved their candor: David admitting he felt dumped in the Revival, and that Gillian didn't know and felt sorry in retrospect. That Gillian didn't feel dumped during the first run. That Gillian thought the Revival's story line reduced her character, especially the ending. That David felt trapped and villainized over the pay gap issue; and only later learned his pay wasn't due to his merit so much as internal favoritism. That Gillian now understands and feels for his pain. That David still feels the sting of Vancouver hating him and being forced out of rehab anonymity, and all the pain he gathered from both incidences. That Gillian admitted she doesn't process shame, just stays too busy to have to face it. That David felt comfortable to say that was unhealthy, and that she felt comfortable enough to hum in agreement. That both know their children have to fail, because they would fail their own children if they stopped those failures. That David tried to drill into his son that he's a miserable person and nothing is as it seems; but that that perspective hadn't worked. That Gillian feels motherhood is the most fulfilling thing for her, yet chooses her work over and over (again, staying too busy to feel shame.) That DD knew as early as Season 1 that Chris intended for Mulder and Scully to be an end goal-- asking CC if he wanted to send GA and himself to couples' counseling as their characters. That GA forgot and laughed over the memory. That Gillian arrived late after he offered her a ride on his private aircraft; then wrote him a beautiful letter, on the plane, instead of saying those words in person. That he marveled she hadn't gone insane from the pressure. That she no longer feels the need to run from Scully's legacy. That both admitted that communication, though important, was non-existent during that time in their lives.

There are so many good bits. But I have two takeaways:

They have the same frenetic drive, the same "crazy" as David calls it; but I can see why it drove a wedge between them (and could, now): they wouldn't be able to tolerate that same freneticism in each other in large doses. (Hence, why they didn't speak for weeks while on set, and were already exchanging "blows" in Season 1.)

Most importantly, they were two old friends who purposefully dug in and rediscovered new things about each other. The camaraderie was different: settled, more "in-character" to how I think they talk when David doesn't feel like he has to perform (though there was a bit of that) and Gillian doesn't feel uneasy, or anxious, or "watched."

In short: they felt wholly the same, but in a new way. :DDDDD

[folkdances]

in the trilogy, character pairs were a lot of the time set in bringing someone back from the dead or generally playing with the dead and the undead and the alive. this was the case with mia/maya in aa1, mimi/ini and adrian/celeste in aa2 (edgeworth/franziska as well to a certain degree), and of course in aa3 it was iris/dahlia, but also godot/diego, and obviously there was a lot more going on but this is a recurring thing that ace attorney does. it works with the turnabout theme, reviving the dead and reviving dead cases, and it works with phoenix's literal name. that's why i think it's really cool that that doesn't happen in aa4. aa4 is a really grounded game and isn't super interested in telling these literally 'magical' stories. the feys were magic, but trucy and troupe gramarye are magicians who work with practical things, illusion and obfuscation.

of course it is implied that trucy and apollo's perception ability is magical in nature, but i don't think it is ever outright stated that it is the same way it is confirmed that the feys possess unique magical powers. and because aa4 is so grounded and so invested in telling this particular story about corruption in every meaning of the term, it does its character contrasts with characters being "moral" and being "immoral" in the sense that the lines between these two labels are very blurry.

there is the contrast of kristoph/klavier, obviously — klavier is the good one because he can accept defeat in the name of truth, because he strives to find the truth and, when he realizes that what he is pushing for is not the right thing, will stop pushing for that thing, whereas kristoph is driven by his own pride and ego. it gets more complicated when you shift your focus towards, for example, phoenix (attorney)/phoenix (father). trilogy phoenix is naive and loyal and has these searing convictions (not that apollo doesn't), but he regularly puts people on pedestals and himself in positions to be betrayed. it is difficult for him to accept that his judgement of a person might have been faulty we see this thinking in turnabout goodbyes and in farewell, my turnabout and in bridge to the turnabout.

disbarred phoenix has lost that naivete because of the sheer amount of time that has passed, yes, but also because of the breadth of the "betrayal" he suffered. we know that disbarred phoenix wright is still a "good person", but he is more willing to get his hands dirty, is more willing to lie and omit and yeah, cheat.

there is the example of lamiroir/machi, in which lamiroir is portrayed as being a very innocent and tragic figure and for a good portion of the case, we sort of believe that machi has taken advantage of her innocence to a certain degree. the main parallel is of course that of kristoph/phoenix, but i think it is so interesting how phoenix dips a hand into the same methods kristoph used with the bloody ace — a less drastic and "evil" play, yes, but one from the same book nonetheless.

back to what i said about dying cases and turnabout, that's what a lot of the trilogy cases, every single one almost, focused on. the end-message is always one of rebirth and reinvigoration — two examples so you know what i'm talking about: in turnabout goodbyes, phoenix's revelation of the truth by bringing dl-6 back from the 'dead' is what starts edgeworth's journey towards becoming a different person. in rise from the ashes, his highlighting the detective's work in bringing sl-9 back from the dead is what frees the skye sisters and allows lana to experience a "new lease on life". this repeats over and over again. these are very classic endings. but in aa4, what's highlighted is the exact oppposite: corruption.

kristoph starts off as a very cool and collected person (in the player's eyes) and his descent into paranoia and greed and egotism is revealed to us across the past and present. we see apollo start off in turnabout trump as a different person than who he becomes by the end of turnabout succession; he doesn't become a bad person, but he's been through enough that he develops a sheen of pessimism while still remaining recognizably apollo, so brash and convinced and caught in the pursuit of justice, a corruption, yes, but less drastic. i already covered the change phoenix undergoes. trucy goes from being an element of zak's tricks to conducting tricks of her own (page vs ace). lamiroir has undergone a sort of breakdown of identity. wocky's slowly dying. even the clients we defend vary so deeply from the clients of the trilogy in that their innocence is already cast in doubt when apollo defends them because they've already gotten their hands dirty or are societally deemed 'shady characters'. in the first case, the client is a disgraced and disbarred lawyer. in the second, a gangster part of a violent mob. in the third, a seemingly innocent child is revealed to be a smuggler. and of course behind it all there is the legal system, already dark and corrupt in phoenix's time, now twisted so far out of shape that it is a miracle any cases are won at all. and that's also why i think making the prosecutor apollo goes up against (klavier) be a very just person works out amazingly.

not sure how to really end this but tl;dr apollo justice is an amazing game that plays with themes in a very different way from the trilogy and i love it!

[anxiousapplepie]

'Bouta find out if asks have a character limit. Oh neat, they don't! Have a scenario that's been haunting me but that I probably won’t have the time or perfectionism restraint to draw. It’s not as funny this way because a lot of this non-existent comic is carried by facial expressions and body language, but oh well. :p

In the multiverse where all the Role!Swap AUs collide, the first point of contact is between Fighter!Siffrin and Traveler!Isabeau. They happily greet each other, thinking they’d found their respective Isa/Sif, and ask simultaneously, “Where did you get the cool new out…fit…?” trailing off as it dawns on them that there are differences that can’t be explained (such as hair length). Then Sif notices the most important impossible change and points between their rectangular earring and Isa’s, and is like, “?? Third? Earring???” When that info hits Isa’s brain he takes it about as gracefully as you’d expect. Which is to say he panics and sputter-yells, “BONDING EARRING?!” as loud as possible.

The yelling attracts a concerned Researcher!Sif and an understandably confused Cook!Isa, who arrive at the same time. Cue them doing the ‘Spidermen pointing at each other’ meme.

While Fighter!Sif is busy being confused by Researcher!Sif’s eye, the Researcher— who’s probably the 2nd most likely Siffrin to know what bonding earrings are (most likely being the Housemaiden?)— points at their own ear and silently stares at Traveler!Isa with something like stunned horror on their face. And Traveler!Isa is, like, genuinely a few seconds from passing out.

I'm not sure how to wrap up this scene other than either Cook!Isa or Fighter!Sif looking at the other and— in an attempt at humor to cope with the situation they’ve found themselves in— saying, “If we kissed right now would that be funny or what?” And/or Traveler!Isa actually passing out. 😂

Even beyond this scenario, I can’t help but imagine the devastation that the Fighter & Cook couple would do to the Siffrin/Isa ecosystem. 😆

YOU. WHY DID YOU GIVE ME THIS IDEA WHY DID YOU PUT THIS IN MY HEAD Now I'm gonna be thinking about this for the rest of the night bECAUSE GOOD GRIEF WITH A SIDE ORDER OF SWEET POTATO CHIPS I want to draw this so bad The expressions would be so funny and the penny dropping and the comedic timing and want to bully Traveler!Isabeau so much MATE what have you done to me!!!! WHAT IS THIS WIGGLY BRAINWORM OF A COMIC IDEA YOU HAVE CURSED ME WITH Also the Fighter&Cook couple would absolutely destroy the Siffrin/Isabeau ecosystem like a nuke on an unsuspecting anthill and SO many lives are gonna change in a single swoop My buddy my pal, I'm holding you responsible if you are the reason why the dozen other comic and drawing projects I've got lined up in my brain get delayed. I'll trust you to give me my child support. I WILL blame you for everything if it happens in less than a week./silly and aggrieved

[rei-ismyname]

UNCANNY X-MEN #5 From The Ashes

First of all, I should acknowledge that something I've been calling a missed opportunity has received an attempt on page - the X-Men killing in FotHox, specifically Kurt. It's a single line and doesn't make a lot of sense, trying to have cake and eat it too by nodding to it in issue 5 but not meaningfully engaging with the recent past. Kurt did NOT think he was a killer, ever. That's just a bad faith reading of the text. He was in a war against genocidal fascists, come on.

Cool new form for Calico, though.

Kurt putting his sword/s away doesn't quite cut it. Errol Flynn swashbuckling has been an influence on him since he was a child and he's been big on sword usage almost since the beginning of his publication history. It's his thing, and he badly needs personality in FTA. Also, he didn't kill anyone with a sword in Fall, he teleported them into space. Swords parry and block, they disarm and intimidate. They have use outside of combat. They look cool, and it's something Kurt is very good at. So yeah, the barest attempt was made, but it didn't land for me. There could have been space to set it up and sell it too, perhaps by toning down the Charles Xavier/Sarah flashbacks that were ultimately just a fakeout.

Speaking of things that were given lip service in issue 5 and could have benefited from more attention, Jubilee told us who she is - kinda. A panel or two of origin story that was established in the 90s, but nothing about why she's here or what she wants out of life. How she feels about the loss of Krakoa, where the hell her baby, Shogo, is. It fits in with Uncanny's overarching sense of unfocusedness and her role could have been performed by anyone - not a good look for the end of the flagship book's first arc.

We get the resolution to and defeat of Sarah Gaunt. 'She's crazy, always has been' is so unsatisfying. I can't think of any other description. It's nice that we don't have another sin to lay at Xavier's door, but attempted baby trap is not a frequently used trope for a reason. She acknowledges she was lying, but then blames him for the loss of her son years later in a different country - then transfers that hatred to all mutants? Comicsxf have criticised her characterisation as 'Monstrous Mother' and I agree. What was the point of giving it so much space, to the extent that we spent more time in the past than with most of our putative main characters? She beat the shit out of Logan and Rogue the last two issues, nearly killing them - only for Rogue to draw strength from deus ex dead kid and completely wipe her out. It's lovely that Rogue is able to summon empathy for her, it shows us why she's a hero, but taken as an arc she's rewarded with victory despite making bad decisions. Long time readers know Rogue can lead, but I think Gail Simone is going to have to do the work to convince new readers that she's right for this. It's well and good to have moral authority but leading your team to death isn't.

Harvey X was unexpected but felt unearned. Surprise is fun but internal and narrative consistency is better. I thought it was Charles moving people around, because it was signposted. Harvey X being the puppet master felt almost silly as he revealed previously unseen very powerful abilities. Why would he wait for Rogue and Logan to be nearly dead to act? Maybe that's the only time he can act, because he's dead? Idk, at least he didn't scream how hot Rogue is again. He speaks about a sacrifice he's making but what sacrifice is that? Is his power finite and burns him out, Proteus-style? It's not quite clear, and I guess we'll never see him again.

Precognition. Healing. Telepathy.

Gambit and the Eye of Agamotto was a Chekhov's Gun that mostly worked (and made me feel sah smart for calling it.) Remy prays (?) to it and then blows the possessed cultists away. I'm pretty sure Jubilee could make a bigger boom than that (I know she can) but rule of cool wins the day.

These are/were captured and possessed mutants. I hope we see them again, especially after Fawn's introduction in #1. They're not doing this willingly.

Rogue flies to meet Warden Ellis to give her Sarah back, further muddling Ellis' characterisation. I have no idea what she's about now. Nuance is good in antagonists, but for someone who wants to crush mutants with her government mandate she's awfully cooperative with them. No threats, no riddles, no ultimatum, just meekly accepting two threats? I want to give a fuck about the closest thing we have to an antagonist (for a crossover event right around the corner) but there's nothing there! This was an opportunity for something, anything. Gah! I don't understand this writing.

Rogue's threat is interesting, though I have to wonder what she and Scott are going to disagree about. It's implied Jubilee will get captured, and we know Beast already has been. 2/3 X-Men teams have their motivation to wreck Graymalkin I just struggle to see them coming to blows over it.

Rogue and her elocution lessons feel very out of character and came out of nowhere. If it was setup earlier and tied to insecurity or identity that would work, but being introduced and haphazardly paid off in issue 5 baffles me, frankly. Rogue's southern upbringing is never something she's been ashamed of, her angst has almost always been related to her powers. She's a confident woman. A story where she struggles with that could have legs, but that's not the story that's been told. She certainly doesn't need Gambit or Logan to tell her - I'd expect it to be the other way around.

I'm not sure what to make of the images we get from Harvey X's visions of the future. I'll write about them separately if I find an interesting hook.

So ends the first arc of Uncanny X-Men volume whatever. My main issue is that it doesn't meaningfully engage with what came before it, and it doesn't quite manage to establish its own identity either. What is its mission statement and what kind of book can we expect? I don't know, and I hope Gail Simone does. It's not the end of the world, mind you. Following Krakoa was always going to be tough, and the world was going to feel smaller, less connected. I can't help but wonder what it might have felt like without a lot of Charles Xavier flashbacks amounting to nothing. Maybe we'd know more about Kurt or Jubilee, even the Outliers. Ideally that'll be corrected. I don't do number ratings so I'll just say it was okay, higher if you are a Rogue stan.

[ferhog]

Since I've seen a few people describe Caitlyn as being okay with child murder, I figured I'd give my hot take that she really was just overconfident in her shooting accuracy and that while taking the risk at all shows how single minded she's become in her vengeance, had she actually ended up murdering Isha I think she would have been devastated. At worst that's when she'd start considering the lives of Zaunite children expendable simply as a coping mechanism for what she'd done, and even that feels less likely than her breaking down entirely.

My reasoning for this is that her being willing to kill a child is a very drastic change from the very empathetic if ignorant and naive character she was in the first 3 acts. And while she's been crossing more and more moral lines since Cassandra's death she's still spent most of it trying to avoid a full-scale invasion of Zaun, with even her use of the grey seemingly only being used on the Chem gangs (Which I assume from the fact that I don't think Vi would be chill with them using it on the general population). I believe she thinks she's doing what's best for the people on both sides of the river until she feels betrayed by Vi.

Plus I think a happy CaitVi ending is gonna be a fair bit harder to pull off with a Caitlyn whose willing to kill a kid. Not impossible, but very hard with all the plots the show is already juggling for the next 6 episodes.

[fanfics4all]

Crossing Paths

Request: Yes / No Hey I was wondering could you write for Luke Alvez where y/n is Hotch’s daughter and she was like 17 when the show started and the team loves her and she’s kind of like a mini Spencer and wanted to be just like her dad and when she was old enough she went to work in Afghanistan and when she’s there she meets Luke and they fall in love but then she gets transferred and they know if they’ll see each other again and all Luke has of her is a Polaroid picture he took of her that he carries with him. She gets back to the BAU in season 11. When Luke starts working there she is injured from a previous case so she’s not in to see him straight away so when she comes in and the team introduces her to Luke she acts like they were just friends in Afghanistan ( not wanting to announce in front of everyone and her dad) but when they are alone it’s a very heartfelt reunion and very fluffy @sxphia-g

Don’t be shy, request things! <3 Have a nice day/night

Luke Alvez x Fem!Hotchner!Reader 

Word count: 1493

Warnings: Nothing I think

Y/N: Your Name 

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(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

*Luke’s POV*

I had many expectations when stepping into the BAU, but seeing her again was not one of them. I wasn’t sure I’d ever see her again, not after we were separated in Afghanistan. Her transfer tore us apart and all I had left was a single Polaroid as a reminder. I kept the photo close, folded it carefully, and tucked it into my wallet as if I would bridge the distance between us. But here she was, just as I remembered, maybe a little different. She looked a little worn from the line of work we both knew all too well. 

When the team introduced her as ‘Hotch’s daughter’, I kept my expression as neutral as possible. My heart was racing to see her in person again. She nodded politely at me, a slight smile tugging at the corner of her lips as if we were nothing more than people meeting for the first time. 

“Alvez, nice to meet you.” She said with a lightness I recognized. It was the same one she used in Afghanistan when they couldn’t be anything but professional. 

I couldn’t help but be impressed. She was brilliant, just like her Father and Reid, a natural in the world of profiling and deduction. The team adored her, and from what I could tell, she was every bit as committed to the work as I remembered. But we weren’t on just professional terms back then, and the reality of it hit me hard when I caught her gaze from across the room. Her eyes softened for just a second like she wanted to reach out and hold me. 

After what felt like an eternity, we finally found ourselves alone in one of the small rooms of the office. The door clicked shut and for a moment, neither of us spoke. We just took each other in after so much time apart. 

“Luke…” She whispered, her voice barely above a whispered. It was like no time had passed. I crossed the space between us in a heartbeat, pulling her close. My hands rested on her shoulders, I was afraid to let go. 

“God, I thought I’d lost you for good.” I whispered, my voice thick. I looked down at her, trying to take in every detail as if I could memorize her all over again. She was different, but somehow the exact same. She had the same spark in her eyes, the same quiet strength that had captivated me back in Afghanistan. 

“I missed you.” She admitted softly, her hand coming up to brush my cheek. The professionalism we held up during our reintroduction faded away, leaving only the tenderness we hadn’t been able to share until now. We stayed like this for a moment, lost in each other, both realizing how much we held onto the hope of this reunion. A reunion we never thought would come. I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close as she rested her head against my chest. We stood in silence, feeling the steady rhythm of each other’s heartbeats. It was a quiet reminder that we were both finally together again. After a few moments, she pulled back, looking up at me with that familiar glint in her eyes that I’d fallen for so long ago. 

“Did you keep it?” She whispered, but I knew exactly what she was asking. I reached into my pocket, pulled out my wallet, and carefully unfolded the worn Polaroid. Her face in the picture was younger and carefree, her smile wide and bright as she laughed at something I said before snapping the picture. I remembered that day so clearly, the warmth of the sun, the laughter that filled the air, and the unspoken promise between us. 

“Every day. It got me through some rough times.” I whispered, holding it up so she could see. Her eyes softened and she reached out, brushing her fingers over the image before looking up at me. There was a hint of sadness mixing with the joy in her expression. 

“I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again. I tried not to get my hopes up.” I felt my chest tighten. 

“You don’t have to hope anymore. We’re here now. We’re back.” We both fell silent, sharing a tender look, knowing we’d have to navigate this new reality cautiously. 

There was the team to think of, Hotch to think of, and we weren’t the same people we were back then. There was a lot more on the line now, but somehow, standing here with her in my arms, I didn’t feel like any of it mattered. 

Just then, the door cracked open and JJ poked her head in, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. 

“Hey, Hotch wants to debrief on the last case. You two ready?” We exchanged a quick look, our shared secret settling into a comfortable place. 

“Yep, on our way.” She replied smoothly, pulling away with a professionalism that almost made me chuckle. There was a small, knowing smile she sent my way, one that promised we’d pick up where we left off as soon as we had a moment. I watched her walk out, the weight of the photo in my pocket felt a little lighter, and followed her out of the room. 

As the weeks went by, Y/N and I sipped into a rhythm, balancing work with the unspoken bond we shared. It wasn’t easy. We kept things low-key, but every time our eyes met across the bullpen, every time we passed each other in the halls, there was a spark that ran deeper than words. 

One late night, after the rest of the team had gone home, I stayed behind, working on case files. I thought I was alone until I heard a soft knock on the door and looked up to see her leaning against the frame. She had that familiar, mischievous smile on her face. 

“Burning the midnight oil?” She teased, slipping into the dimly lit office. I chuckled, dropping my pen. 

“Could say the same for you. What’re you still doing here?” 

“Oh, you know…” She shrugged, coming closer. 

“Couldn’t sleep, thought maybe some company would help.” She took a seat next to me and we slipped into comfortable conversation. Memories from Afghanistan waving into stories from recent cases. Being around her felt so natural like no time had passed at all. Eventually, the conversation slowed, leaving only the soft glow of the lamp illuminating our faces. She looked up at me, her expression vulnerable, her voice soft as she spoke. 

“Luke… sometimes I wonder if we’d still feel like this, even if we hadn’t been through so much back then. It’s hard to explain, but it’s like I can’t let go of that version of us, you know?” I reached out, taking her hand gently in mine. 

“Afghanistan brought us together, yeah, but what I feel… it’s so much more than that. We’re not just some memory for me. This…” I lifted her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. 

“...This is real.” She held my gaze, the weight of my words settling between us. It was something we both needed to hear. Afghanistan had been intense, but what we had not was grounding, rooted in shared dreams and hard work. We stayed like that, the quiet comfort of each other’s presence enough to fill the room. But then she tensed, a small frown creasing her brow. I noticed instantly, my thumb brushing over her hand. 

“What’s wrong?” She took a deep breath, her gaze dropping to our hands. 

“It’s just… my Dad. He’s protective. I don’t know how he’d react to this, to us. He’s always been supportive, but when it comes to me, he’s got blind spots. And you know, you’re not just any guy, you’re a part of his unit now, too.” I nodded, understanding her concerns. Hotch wasn’t just her Father, he was my superior and a man whose respect meant the world to me. We both knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but my grip on her hand tightened. It was a quiet reassurance that I was ready to face whatever came our way. 

“I’ll talk to him. When the time is right. He deserves to hear it from me. But you gotta know, nothing, no one, could make me walk away from you. Not after everything we’ve been through.” I said firmly. She looked at me, her eyes shining with gratitude and love. Leaning in, she brushed a soft kiss to my lips, one that held all the promises we didn’t need to say out loud. 

“I love you, Luke.” She whispered, her voice full of all the warmth and strength I’d come to know so well. My heart swelled and I pulled her close, pressing my forehead to hers. 

“I love you too, Y/N, and we’ll figure this out together. One step at a time.”

Tag list: @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs-blog1 @lover-of-books-and-tea @nerdygaloresposts @teenwolfbitches28 @kmc1989 @drw0301bieber @lady-of-lies @ravenmoore14 @ravenempress101 @cillianchamp @rowanthomasknapp @rachelxwayne @ready-4-fanfiction @madammarvellous-blog1 @pettyjayy @bruisedfists-and-splitlips @answer-the-sirens @andreasworlsboring101 @liz-owl

[imbecominggayer]

Writing Advice: How To Condense Your Story Down

From @melda0m3 we have: I'm wondering, how do you fit everything important in fours episodes of 5 minutes? (Yeah... Maybe I'll change it to more if I can't find my answer). I plan on making it really like a series, but without the visual aspect, so no narrator describing anything, just dialogues

Personally, I have no experience with podcasts or recording whatsoever but I do know a little bit about formatting and scripting so that's what I'm going to do!

A) Script Out What Needs To Happen

Grab a computer or a piece of paper and write down everything that needs to happen in this chapter.

In general:

In the first few chapter, it's all about establishing the status quo. What are the relationships like? What are their beliefs?

Then the next middle chapters are about the status quo changing. New lines in the sand are forming. People are going new places. New. New New.

The final chapters are about the conclusion and reflection. Thinking about what happened. How it happened and giving the reader a taste of what the future may bring.

It's incredibly important to have an idea of what the purpose of the chapter is because otherwise the plot tends to either be too slow or too quick. Scripting can serve as a check-in to see if all the actions are flowing in a logical and straight-forward way. The scripting can also create a chronological schedule for not only what needs to happen but also when it happens!

It doesn't have to be detailed. For an example of a cursory guide:

Chapter 9:

Haun reveals how they aren't the chosen one to the King

This causes his adoptive father to banish Haun from the castle for the time being until this mess can be sorted.

Haun's banishment incentivizes Niko to use this opportunity to sneak into the previously hidden room while the King is distracted

There! Short, sweet, and with a logical flow!

B) Write It Out And Chop It Down

The first draft is the indulgence draft. it's the draft where you plop your consciousness out onto the page and see what gets created.

Then you can use the subsequent drafts to cut it all down.

Example A: The house was utterly decadent and large with cracks running up and down everything since it used to be abandoned a couple of years ago. Every single step inside the house rings out a creak and every single glass from the window lost it's sheen. It's just so strange that a house as rich as this one as built in the woods though. I can't believe I used to live here when I was a child.

Example B: The forgotten mansion stood proudly in the forest like an aging warrior holding onto the glory days. Vines caressed each column with a motherly touch. It's almost like it's judging me for having dared left such a beautiful place to wither away.

The problem with the first paragraph, in my opinion, is the obnoxious repitition of how abandoned and decadent the house looks. It doesn't provide additional detail. It just reiterates the fact that there are creaks in the house and thing are dirty. I also dislike the non-sequiter revealing how this used to be the narrator's house when the description doesn't fit a nostalgic or childhood vibe at all!

The first sentence of Example B paints the fact that the mansion is forgotten and large in one simple sentence while Example A takes two uninteresting sentences to do it. Example B uses (or tries to use) nostalgic language to talk about the home so that the reveal the narrator used to live here doesn't come as a shock

C) Dialogue

Dialogue is the most important thing in this project so we have to get it right!

Every single piece of dialogue needs to communicate:

Knowledge (what a character knows)

Personality (how a character acts)

Emotion (how they feel about what they are saying)

Intention (what they are trying to say)

There almost always tends to be a secret 5th element

Secrecy (what they're trying to hide)

This is the case during jokes, love confessions, exposition, and everything!

That scripting thing I was mentioning? Pull that out now! You need to establish the setting? Have a character do it through some dialogue!

"All I can do now is pray Mrs. Jackson forgot about the test!"

This little sentence reveals:

Setting: At or about to go to school

Character A knows there is a test today and they haven't studied

Character A is definitely not studious and probably a bit careless

Character A is nervous about the test

Character A is trying to communicate how they forgot the test

You can also use another character's dialogue to do all of this while still communicating something about another type of character!

For example, Character A could have said:

"I just fucking hope little pet Micheal doesn't remind Mrs. Jackson we have a test today."

This not only establishes the dread and personality of A, it also establishes how Micheal is a teacher's pet and how Mrs. Jackson has a bit of a forgetful streak if this is a reoccuring event.

The dialogue also serves to establish relationships and motivations for why those relationships happen! A is a careless student who resents Micheal for his dedication to school and being a moral little stickler for rules while Micheal has respect for the teacher since they share similar values about education.

D) Inspiration

Since I have no expertise with this subject, I recommend doing the tried and true method.

Find people who use idolize that do this, analyze their structure, and apply it to your own work.

[highly-flammable]

Wdym even some female fans are wanting one of the few canon female characters in TROP to be sidelined - a character who has originally been marketed as the face of the show, whose emotional arc the show began with, who has been disproportionately humbled and gaslit by her male peers for the better part of two seasons, who is supposed to be the narrative foil of the main villain, the only alive character who personally knows him and who is supposed to become a powerful wielder of magic and found their own realm.

And the sidelining should happen why? Because some other male characters deserve the spotlight? Listen, this show could have been about Gil-Galad or Elrond from the get-go. There is a reason it isn’t. You couldn’t tell this story with them and in spite of them personally fighting Sauron down the line, it is Galadriel who is his rival. The pitch for the show was “The Mirror of Galadriel” chapter, FFS. And there is plenty of screentime to go around, and the strength of writing is demonstrated by fleshing out multiple character arcs over a single story. Numenor should have larger focus going forward, but there is no reason other irrelevant storylines cannot be trimmed down a little and that screentime be given to Numenor. When Sauron goes to Numenor, his screentime will add to that of the characters over there as well. Nothing, I repeat, absolutely nothing in TROP requires Galadriel to step to the side. If anything, the narrative established by the show so far actively demands that she remains front and centre.

Lorebros can be misogynistic but turns out some loresisters are not very far behind.

My request to all the fans of Galadriel’s character: make sure to properly hype her up on X and Reddit since the writers are likelier to frequent those places. Let’s make it clear that we don’t want a show that doesn’t stick by its own story and doesn’t do justice to its protagonist, in case any of them start getting ideas.

[chimcess]

→ Chapter Eleven: Following Rivers Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Werewolf!Jimin, Witch!Reader, Shifter!Reader, Shifter!Jimin, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha!Jimin Genre: Supernatural!AU, Werewolf!AU, Angst, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Smut, Word Count: 14.5k+ Synopsis: Within the four realms of Lustra lay the Bangtan forest home to the Foxglove pack of the south and known as the “land of magic.” It is also home to the Bridd, a powerful witch from a cursed bloodline who is one of the sacred guardians of the forest. Y/N is the newest Bridd, a young girl who was given her position too early. Now a woman, Y/N is revered amongst the wolves as the most powerful witch they have ever known, but hiding under the surface is a woman who has to battle between her duty and her heart. Warnings: ANGST, strong language, PTSD, flashbacks, self-hate, self-depreciation, talks of death, everyone is going through it, getting to know some more characters, love-triangle, Jin is being kind of a dick, I promise we'll start seeing more Jimin as this goes on but he's just really depressed right now, Sam is a HUGE flirt, Kook is a vibe and I love him, Secrets to be reveled later, disabilities are going to be a huge part of Yoongi's life now and his arc so bear with a lot of that being in his povs, he's my favorite person in this series (so far, later you'll meet by baby for life), possibly wrong medical terminology, sexism and misogyny will be hinted at, everyone is going through it, lots of grief and heartache, Babyboy just wants his best friend back, mourning her life she's dead, let me know if I missed anything... A/N: Thanks for reading <3

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Yoongi pov

The night hummed with an eerie energy, alive with murmurs that made the air feel thick and electric. The new witches had gathered, their voices weaving together, filling the darkness with spells that seemed to breathe and shift around us. I sat on the porch, my fingers tracing the worn lines in the wood, trying to remember when I could still look up and see the stars. Before everything became shadows and shapes I couldn’t quite make out.

The clash with the elves had left me like this—caught in a strange, half-blind world. It didn’t take all my sight, but what was left was blurred and foggy, like a permanent mist hovering in front of me. I’d catch a flash of movement or a glimmer of light, but it would vanish before I could be sure it was real. It was maddening—a reminder of everything I’d lost, every single day.

Blindness wasn’t the darkness I’d imagined. It wasn’t nothingness; it was worse. It was this hazy dream I could never wake from, where sounds felt bigger and sharper, and the world I knew slipped further away each day. Even the crickets, which used to be comforting, now grated on my nerves, their chirps too loud, almost painful. Leaves rustling in the wind scratched at my ears, reminding me of how much had changed.

The porch used to be my refuge. I could almost see Bridd and me sitting here years ago, trading stories as the sky darkened and fireflies began to blink. Those days felt like they belonged to someone else now, someone who hadn’t been left behind. Now, I was just trying to keep up, stumbling to find my place in a world that had become a stranger. I felt like I was slipping more often than not, the weight of everything pressing down, suffocating and relentless.

Laughter from next door cut through the quiet like broken glass. Sharp and startling, it reminded me that the world outside my darkness was still alive, still spinning. I’d always felt a little disconnected, but now it was like I’d been completely cast out, left to linger on the edges while everyone else went on with their lives.

I took a deep breath, the air heavy and thick. Memories clung to me like smoke, lingering in the silence. The witches’ voices grew softer, their spells fading into the night, and I felt everything more intensely now—the rough wood under my fingers, the sounds, the memories.

Then, footsteps. I heard her voice, soft and familiar. My mother. “Yoongi,” she said, her warmth reaching me before her touch did. “How are you holding up?”

I took a shaky breath. “Trying,” I said, and the word felt heavier than I could explain. “Just…trying to find my way.” It felt like climbing a hill I couldn’t see, carrying all the weight of what I’d lost.

She sat down next to me, her hand gentle on my shoulder. “You don’t have to do it all alone,” she murmured. “It’s okay to rest. To take things slowly.” Her words wrapped around me like a soft spell. “It’s alright,” she repeated.

I nodded, feeling my head dip forward. “I miss her,” I whispered. “Bridd… she made it all easier.”

She sighed, her hand steady. “She was special. But remember, there are still people here who care about you, Yoongi. Seokjin’s still here. Maybe you could reach out to him.”

Her words stirred something—maybe hope, maybe fear. Seokjin had once been an anchor for me, but now it felt like we were drifting, each of us lost in our own way. “I don’t want to be a burden,” I mumbled.

“You’re not,” she said firmly. “Friendship isn’t a burden—it’s something we share. You were there for them; now let them be there for you.”

Her words stayed with me, even as the witches’ laughter rose again, filling the night with a reminder of everything I couldn’t see. Wendy’s laugh rang out, soft and familiar, laced with something unspoken that lingered between us. I knew her feelings, even if we’d never said it out loud. But my heart… it was somewhere else, always just out of reach.

And then Wendy was closer. I felt my mother’s hand on my shoulder, grounding me, as Wendy’s voice cut through the night. “Yoongi!” she called, her tone bright but with a hint of something fragile beneath it. There was something in her voice that drew me in, even though I knew how dangerous it could be to let her in too far.

Jin and I were already on thin ice, and if he saw us like this, he’d definitely get the wrong idea.

“Hey,” I said, my voice coming out tight. Wendy stepped closer, her warmth hitting me before her hand did—just like my mother’s touch. She always had this way of seeing right through me, straight to the parts I tried to keep hidden.

“You okay?” she asked softly, her tone so gentle, like I was made of glass. I hated that she even had to ask.

I shrugged, the movement small and stiff. “Just thinking,” I muttered, barely meaning it. It was a filler, a shield. “Got a lot on my mind.”

She paused, letting the silence sit heavy between us. I could almost feel her studying me, like she was trying to piece me together. “You don’t have to do this alone,” she finally said. “We’re here for you, Yoongi. Jin and I…we care about you.”

Hearing Jin’s name hit me with a pang of something—hope, maybe, mixed with doubt. Did they really get it? Or were they just saying what they thought I needed to hear? I wanted to believe them, but that nagging doubt wouldn’t quit.

“I’m used to it,” I said, looking down at my hands. “I’m fine.” It was easier to be alone in my head, to keep everything locked away where no one could reach it.

Wendy shook her head, stepping in closer. “You’re not fine,” she whispered. “And that’s okay. You don’t have to be.” Her fingers brushed against mine—a small touch, but there was a tremor in it. She was scared too. We all were.

In that tremble, I felt something real, something solid. Maybe…maybe enough to take one more step forward, to move toward a world that didn’t feel like my own anymore. I nodded, just a small tilt of my head, and she stayed. No more words, just her warmth beside me as the witches’ laughter faded in the distance. It wasn’t everything. It wasn’t what my life used to be. But it was enough for now—to keep breathing, to keep moving.

“I don’t want to be a burden,” I whispered, almost too quiet to hear. Being vulnerable felt foreign, like it was borrowed from someone else.

“You’re not a burden, Yoongi,” Wendy said, her voice soft but steady. “You’re my friend. We care about you.” Her words hung in the air—delicate but so powerful.

The chatter and laughter around us felt louder then, a reminder of all that was bright and alive in their world. The world I wanted to reach again but didn’t know how. I sat there, the distance between us like a wall separating their colorful lives from my shadows.

The horizon stretched before me like an endless fog, a blur that mocked me, a constant reminder of what I’d lost. Days had passed like this, silent and heavy, filled with burdens I kept to myself, not wanting to weigh others down. Wendy’s voice was a quiet anchor, though, pulling me back from the edge.

“Yoongi,” she said, her words gentle, a lifeline. “I know it’s hard, but if you ever want to talk, I’m here. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

For a second, I almost told her I was fine. Pretending was easier, a mask I’d perfected over time. And the words did come, almost automatically.

“I’ll manage,” I said, but even I could hear how empty they sounded.

Wendy didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. She just waited, her patience a steady presence beside me. Silence settled around us, thick with everything unspoken, all the fears I’d locked away. Finally, I looked down, the truth hovering on the edge of my mind, but I held it back.

“I’m not used to asking for help,” I finally admitted, the words coming out rough, almost resentful.

As I said it, regret flickered through me—showing weakness like this felt wrong. The days since my injury had blurred together, each one marked by this fog that clouded my sight. Sometimes I thought I saw things—faces, trees, the distant horizon—but they always slipped away. It was as if my eyes were covered in jelly. The harder I tried to see, the worse it got. So, I’d learned to rely on other senses—the sound of a voice, a hand’s touch, the scent of the forest around me. But it wasn’t the same. It would never be the same.

Wendy moved closer, her warmth cutting through the chill creeping in with the night. The shadows around us felt less intimidating with her beside me. I could feel her gaze, steady and searching, like she could see past all the walls I’d built to the doubts and fears I tried to keep hidden. But I kept those walls up.

“Yoongi,” she said softly, her voice firm but gentle, like she was tossing me a lifeline. “This doesn’t have to be everything, not right now. Just take it one step at a time. I’ll be here with you.”

Her words were comforting, but I didn’t let myself hold onto them. I couldn’t. Vulnerability felt too dangerous now, after everything I’d lost. So I just gave her a nod, a silent acknowledgment. Nothing more.

“Okay,” I murmured, more to keep her from worrying than anything else. “I’ll…try.”

But trying felt impossible some days. Every moment was a battle. Losing my sight had taken so much more than just my ability to see—it had pulled the world out from under me. Faces, landscapes, even the simplest things now felt foreign and unreachable. I found myself pulling away, retreating from the world and clinging to the past, tracing familiar shapes with my fingers, trying to remember what they used to look like. I wasn’t just blind—I was a stranger to myself.

Wendy’s hand rested on mine, her touch a steady reminder that I wasn’t entirely alone, even if it sometimes felt that way. Something flickered inside me, something I refused to name as hope. Hope was too fragile. I’d learned to live without it. I just focused on her hand in mine, and that was enough—or at least, it had to be.

But even with her there, memories clawed their way back—the chaos of that last battle, the roar of voices, the clash of weapons. The elves had come at us with everything they had, leaving no mercy. I could still feel the weight of that moment, the way darkness had swallowed me whole and left me here, grappling with nothing. My fists clenched without meaning to, the memories hitting hard.

“Wendy,” I started, my voice thick, my walls barely holding. “What if this is it? What if I can never really be a part of things again? What if I’m just…a burden?”

Her hand tightened on mine, a solid anchor. “Don’t say that,” she replied firmly, her voice a steady beat in the storm. “You’re not a burden, Yoongi. You’re still you. That matters more than anything. Even if you can’t see, you’re still one of us.” She softened, her words warmer, sinking into me. “Being open is a step toward healing. Don’t let fear take that away from you.”

I nodded, but I still couldn’t fully believe her. It felt safer to keep a distance, to hold onto the pain like armor. I didn’t want to drag her down with my despair, didn’t want to risk the letdown that came with hope. So I swallowed back the emotions, burying them where they wouldn’t touch anyone else.

The witches’ laughter drifted over, light and distant, reminding me that life still existed out there, in a world I couldn’t reach—not yet, maybe not ever.

“Thank you,” I whispered, meaning it even though the words felt fragile. I hadn’t realized how much I needed her assurance, her steady reminder that I wasn’t weighing everyone else down. But even as I said it, I knew I couldn’t lean on her too much. I had to stand on my own, even if that meant facing it all in silence.

The night deepened, and Wendy stayed, her presence grounding me, pulling me back from the edge. She was like a lighthouse in this fog I was stuck in, a reminder that maybe things could be different one day. I let myself imagine it, just for a second—that maybe, somehow, I could belong again. But I quickly pushed the thought away. I didn’t have room for dreams.

Wendy’s fingers tightened slightly, her gaze lifting to the stars scattered across the sky. “Yoongi,” she murmured, her voice carrying that unbreakable hope she always seemed to have, “We’ve all lost something. None of us feel whole, not completely. But we can help each other move forward, one step at a time.”

I caught the slight tremor in her voice, that hidden hurt that I knew all too well. Her mother’s death in the last battle had left a wound we all felt, a gap that reminded us of what the war had taken. That final clash had left us all scarred in ways that didn’t show.

I looked at her, our grief mingling in the quiet, binding us in this shared loss. “With Bridd gone… it’s hard to hold on to hope,” I admitted, the words raw and real. Bridd had been a constant, someone we all relied on. Without her, everything felt fractured.

Wendy’s eyes met mine, fierce and unwavering. “Bridd is strong. She’ll find her way back to us. And until then, we hold on to each other. That’s how we get through this.”

Wendy moved closer, her warmth a welcome contrast to the evening chill settling in around us. The shadows seemed less overwhelming with her beside me. I felt her steady gaze, like she could see past the walls I’d built and right into the mess of fears I tried to keep buried. But I kept those walls up.

“Yoongi,” she said softly, her voice like a lifeline, steady but gentle. “We don’t have to know everything right now. Let’s just make a promise—to hold on to each other. No matter how dark it gets, we keep going. For Bridd, for each other. That’s how we honor what we’ve lost.”

Her words sank in, like rain on parched ground. For a second, I felt a flicker of hope, a small reminder that maybe I didn’t have to carry all this alone. But I knew myself; I wouldn’t let myself rely on anyone too much. I couldn’t.

The witches’ laughter echoed in the distance, reminding me of life’s strange mix of light and dark, joy and pain. It was almost comforting, that reminder of life moving forward.

“Wendy,” I started, the words feeling awkward and unsure, “What if… I’m not who I used to be?”

She gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “Then we’ll help you find who you are now. You’re not alone, Yoongi. As long as I’m here, you’re not.”

Her conviction cut through my despair, but I kept my guard up. The night stretched out before us, full of unknowns, but as I sat next to Wendy, her presence like a steady anchor, I didn’t feel quite as lost. Maybe I’d try to take it as she said—one step at a time. But those steps were still mine to take, alone if I had to.

And as the darkness pressed in, I took a deep breath, letting the warmth of her presence fill the empty spaces inside me. She didn’t press for more, just stayed there beside me, as constant as the stars overhead.

Her quiet understanding eased something raw within me, like a wound finally starting to heal. “It’s… everything feels different now,” I admitted, my voice breaking a little, surprising even me. “I can’t see any of it, and it terrifies me.”

Wendy’s hand found my shoulder, her touch gentle and steady. “You’re still here, Yoongi. Losing your sight doesn’t mean you’ve lost everything. We’ll find a way through this, together. You still have us.” Her words hung in the air, easing the fear that had taken root inside me, creeping through everything like vines.

I let out a shaky breath, clinging to the faint hope her words had sparked. Maybe this wasn’t the end. Maybe, if I let myself reach out, there was still a way forward, a way to heal. “Thank you,” I whispered, the gratitude catching in my throat, barely able to express everything I felt.

Hope had become something strange and distant to me. Since the injury, my days had blurred into an endless stretch of darkness—more than just the absence of light. I could barely see. Everything was trapped in this cloudy haze, as if something thick coated my eyes. Shadows passed by, shapes that could be anything or anyone, but I never got a clear view. Trying to make sense of it all only left me with splitting headaches, so I stopped trying. The sight I had left was useless, a cruel reminder of what I’d lost.

I’d started relying on sound, on touch, to make sense of the world, but it wasn’t the same. I couldn’t see the faces of my friends or the beauty of the trees, the sky, the stars. All the things that used to ground me felt unreachable. My world was small and unfamiliar, and every step felt vulnerable, a reminder of everything that had changed. It was like drowning in the dark with no way out.

The night thickened around us, heavy with memories and things left unspoken, but Wendy’s steady presence kept me grounded. My thoughts drifted to Bridd—how her laughter had always lifted me, how her presence had once made even the hardest days bearable. The ache of her absence cut deep, but Wendy’s warmth stirred something faint and new in me, a promise that maybe I could find my way through this darkness, one slow, uncertain step at a time.

After a while, Wendy slipped into the shadows, her warmth slowly fading, leaving me alone again with the night. Minutes later, another set of footsteps approached, each step sharp and confident. I didn’t need to look to know who it was. Sam. The wind elemental who’d fought by our side, her presence like a storm, fierce and unrelenting.

“Mind if I sit?” she asked, her voice direct, cutting through my thoughts.

“Go ahead,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady, bracing for the bluntness Sam always brought with her. She wasn’t like Wendy—she wasn’t soft. But her honesty was something I couldn’t ignore.

And I couldn’t deny how much I enjoyed her company. Sam always found me, always made sure I knew she was there, even when everyone else seemed to forget. It was comforting in its own way, and though I’d heard whispers about her and Kim Namjoon, I never let that stop her visits. Her people weren’t known for sticking to one person, and I wasn’t looking for anything anyway.

She lowered herself beside me with a kind of ease, though there was always a tension in her, a restless energy that seemed to vibrate between us. “You look like you’ve been trampled by a dragon,” she remarked with a smirk. “What’s got you in knots, Yoongi?”

I let out a dry laugh, trying to shrug it off. “The usual,” I said, waving a hand like all of it—war, waiting, the constant unknown—was nothing more than a passing annoyance. “The war, the waiting, the not knowing… you know.”

She didn’t laugh. When she replied, her voice was serious. “Yeah, and it’s not getting better anytime soon. Bridd’s out there, trying to bring in allies, and here we are, waiting for the next storm.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” I said, irritation slipping out. I could feel her smirk, though, a bit of satisfaction in her voice.

“What, you thought I’d sugarcoat it?” she shot back, arching a brow. “You’re not the only one carrying heavy stuff, Min. We’re all in this.”

“Are we?” I muttered, bitterness creeping into my voice. “Or are we all just pretending we’re fine?”

“Pretending doesn’t change anything,” she said, her tone softening. “Sometimes you’ve got to stop fighting so hard and just… breathe. Give yourself a moment to let it be.”

I clenched my fists, the rough wood of the porch pressing into my palms. “It’s not that simple, Sam,” I murmured, feeling the weight of everything I’d lost. “You don’t get what it’s like… to lose everything familiar.”

She didn’t say anything for a while, and I thought maybe she’d let it go. But then, she spoke, her tone more serious than usual. “No, I may not know what it’s like to lose sight. But I know what it’s like to lose things—things that meant everything. To build up walls so high you forget who or what you’re even keeping out.” She paused, her words hitting harder than I wanted to admit. “It doesn’t bring you peace, Yoongi. It just leaves you alone.”

Her words cut deep, and I felt a flare of anger, my instinct to push back. “I’m not asking for advice, Sam,” I said, warning in my voice.

“No, you’re asking to drown,” she shot back, her frustration seeping through. “You’re letting it swallow you whole. And here’s the thing—life keeps moving, Yoongi, with or without you.”

Her words were like a jolt, breaking through the numbness I’d wrapped around myself. I wanted to argue, to say she didn’t understand, but I couldn’t deny there was truth in what she said. As much as I hated to admit it, she wasn’t wrong.

“What do you want from me, Sam?” I asked finally, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Nothing,” she said, her voice softening. “But maybe you should want more for yourself. Stop hiding in the dark. You’re not alone, no matter how much you try to pretend you are.”

Silence stretched between us, charged with all the things neither of us had said. Sam stayed beside me, solid and warm against the night, and I felt something shift inside—a flicker of realization that maybe, just maybe, she was right.

Her words felt like stones dropping into a still pond, rippling through the calm I’d forced myself into. Part of me bristled at her bluntness, but another part—the part I tried to ignore—felt grateful. She didn’t flinch from my darkness. She leaned into it, unafraid to call me out.

“I’m not great at letting people in,” I muttered, the words feeling strange, like they belonged to someone else. Keeping people at arm’s length was easier, safer, even if it meant being alone.

“Yeah, I got that,” she replied, her usual sarcasm softened by a surprising warmth. “But maybe you should try. Life’s too short to be a lone wolf forever. Cadoc taught me that much.”

“It’s not that easy,” I said, feeling the weight of it all press down on me. “Not everyone’s an optimist like you.”

“Optimist?” She laughed, a dry, almost bitter sound. “I’m not an optimist, Yoongi. I’m a realist. But you don’t have to change everything at once. Just… consider it.” Her voice softened, a tenderness I wasn’t used to hearing from her. “You never know what might happen if you let someone in.”

Her gaze held mine, steady and a little unnerving, as if she could see past every wall I’d built. I swallowed hard, my chest tight with a mix of fear and something else. “And what if I ruin it?” The question slipped out before I could stop it, the vulnerability raw and real.

Sam shrugged, unbothered. “Then you mess up. We’ll deal with it. That’s what friends are for. At least you tried.”

A small, reluctant smile tugged at my lips, the tension in my chest easing just a bit. “I’ll… think about it.”

She leaned back, a satisfied smirk on her face. “Good. And if you need practice, you know where to find me. I promise I won’t bite… much.”

A laugh escaped me, surprising and low, breaking through the heaviness of the night. “You’re something else, Sam.”

“Yeah, I know,” she replied, grinning. “And you’re welcome. Anytime you need a reality check or a kick in the backside, I’m your girl.”

We sat in a comfortable silence after that, the night air cool around us as we watched the shadows shift. It was rare, I realized, to have someone who didn’t turn away from my darkness—someone who met it head-on instead. And as Sam stayed there beside me, I felt a flicker of something I hadn’t let myself feel in a long time: hope. Maybe, just maybe, I didn’t have to carry this alone.

But that hope was fragile, and doubts clung to me like shadows. Trust was a risk, a leap into something unknown, especially when everything felt so uncertain.

After a while, Sam shifted closer, her eyes gleaming with a mischievous spark. “You know, Yoongi,” she began, her voice dropping into a playful whisper, “I’ve always thought you were kinda… cute.”

“Wait, what?” I blinked, caught completely off guard, my voice suddenly caught in my throat. The porch, the night—everything seemed to close in, amplified by her words.

She laughed, clearly amused by my reaction. “Yeah, you’re a good-looking guy. Just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not true.” There was a teasing edge to her tone, but underneath it, a hint of sincerity that made my heart skip. “Honestly, it’s a shame you don’t put yourself out there more. You could have anyone you wanted.”

I scoffed, trying to brush it off even as my pulse raced. “Anyone? That’s a stretch.”

“Not at all,” she replied, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “You’ve got a good heart, even if you are a bit of a lone wolf. People like that.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but she cut me off, her expression shifting to something unexpectedly serious. “I get it, though,” she said, her voice softer. “You don’t want things to get complicated.” She paused, then added with a smirk, “But I’ll be honest, I’ve thought about it. You and me, I mean.”

“Sam—” I began, feeling my face grow hot. “I’m not really looking for—”

“Let me finish,” she interrupted, leaning in closer, her breath warm on my cheek. The space between us felt charged, her words hanging in the air. “I’ve also had my share of thoughts about Namjoon. Can you blame me?” She shrugged, her tone turning flippant again. “But I know neither of you would go for it.”

I shook my head, trying to make sense of what she was saying. “So… you’re saying you want both of us?”

She shrugged again, almost casual. “Why not? You both bring different things to the table. But I’m realistic. I know it wouldn’t work. You’re dealing with your own stuff, and Namjoon’s got his demons, too.”

Part of me wanted to push her away, to tell her this was ridiculous, but another part—an unexpected part—was intrigued by her openness. “It just… seems messy,” I admitted, my voice softening.

“Messy is life, Yoongi,” she said lightly, though there was a hint of something else in her eyes. “But don’t worry—I’m not here to push you into anything. Just being honest.” She leaned back, her playful demeanor returning. “It’s not like I’m actually going to do anything about it.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, the tension loosening but not completely gone. “I just… I’m not looking to get tangled up in something like that. I’m barely handling my own mess right now.”

The porch felt smaller somehow, old memories and regrets pressing in on me like a heavy mist. I still carried the shadow of someone else—someone whose laughter still echoed in the quiet corners of my mind, someone who’d been my anchor back then.

Sam softened, her usual tough exterior easing for a moment. “I get it,” she said quietly. “And I’m sorry if I pushed too far. That wasn’t my intention. Just… wanted to keep things real, you know? Like always.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” I said, managing a faint smile. “Maybe tone it down once in a while?”

She laughed, a warm, genuine sound that chipped away at the tension between us. “Not a chance,” she said, her eyes shining with humor. “But I’ll be more mindful. Last thing I want is to make things harder for you.”

“Thanks,” I murmured, feeling a small wave of relief, like some weight had been lifted, even if just for a second. “I’m just… still figuring things out.”

“Fair enough,” she said, her voice lightening like the night breeze. “Just don’t shut me out, okay? I’m here, whether you like it or not. Even if my taste in people is a little… unconventional.”

Despite myself, a smile crept onto my face. “You’re relentless.”

“It’s a gift,” she replied with a smirk, her eyes bright as the stars above us. “But seriously, if you ever need to talk—or just need someone to set you straight—I’m here. I might not have the answers, but I can help point you in the right direction.”

“Thanks,” I replied, my voice softer, my gratitude real this time. As we sat in the quiet of the night, the silence between us was calm, not tense like it so often was. There was a warmth that settled in my chest, something unexpected and gentle, that made the weight I’d been carrying feel just a little lighter. Sam was right—life was messy, but maybe there was room in that mess to let others in, to share the load I’d been holding onto alone.

The night pressed on, and the laughter from the others faded into the distance, blending with the quiet of the forest. With Sam next to me, the loneliness that had clung to me for so long felt like it was starting to loosen, replaced by a small, unfamiliar warmth. Maybe—just maybe—I could let someone in, let myself feel something beyond the weight of the past, let go of the fear and regret.

But just as the thought sparked, I felt a familiar ache tighten in my chest, a reminder of love lost, of empty spaces that had once been filled with warmth. Sam’s presence was comforting, but the shadows inside reminded me that I wasn’t quite ready to move on. Not yet. Not while Wendy’s memory still held me back.

The night seemed to hum with energy as Sam and I drifted into easy banter—her laughter, her teasing—familiar like an old song I hadn’t heard in a while. Before the moment could settle, the front door swung open, snapping us out of our thoughts. Jungkook appeared in the doorway, his face split in a wide grin, his presence like a burst of fresh air.

“Guess who!” he called, stepping out onto the porch. “Hope you two haven’t died of boredom without me!” His energy lit up the shadows around us, brightening the quiet with his usual cheer.

“Not yet,” Sam shot back, crossing her arms and leaning against the railing, smirking. “But we were kind of enjoying the peace without your endless enthusiasm.”

Jungkook laughed, undeterred, and set a couple of bottles on the small table between us. The clinking of glass echoed in the stillness. “Peace? Boring,” he said, shaking his head. “That’s why I brought drinks—to celebrate surviving another day in this beautiful chaos we call life.”

“Ah, yes,” I said dryly, sarcasm slipping out. “Because nothing says ‘responsible adult’ like drinking while the world falls apart.”

Jungkook clutched his chest dramatically. “Ouch! Here I am trying to lighten the mood!” He grinned, undeterred, holding out the bottle. “You two should be thanking me.”

Sam rolled her eyes, but I could see the smile tugging at her lips. “And you think a few drinks are going to save us from doom?”

“Hey, laughter is the best medicine,” Jungkook countered, shrugging as he passed out the bottles. “Besides, a little fun never hurt anyone, right?”

“Fine, but don’t expect me to hold your hair back if you pass out,” Sam teased, clinking her bottle against mine, her eyes glinting with mischief. The sound felt like a quiet pact between us—a shared defiance against the weight we were all carrying, a promise to keep going despite it all.

In that moment, under the stars, surrounded by the quiet of the night, we shared the burden of our fears and hopes. And for a little while, it felt like enough.

The evening felt heavy and still, and as I lifted the bottle, the chill against my fingers brought me back into the moment. The sharp taste burned a little as I took a sip, a welcome distraction from the dark thoughts that had been gnawing at me. “Not bad,” I said, grudgingly giving Jungkook a nod of approval. If nothing else, he had decent taste.

A grin spread across his face, his eyes catching the faint light of the porch. “See? I knew you’d like it.” He leaned back, taking a swig before casting a curious look between us. “So, what were you two talking about? Deep fears? Secret crushes?” He waggled his eyebrows, clearly enjoying himself as he tried to shake off whatever tension lingered.

Sam’s laughter broke out, bright and unguarded, dissolving the last bit of heaviness between us. “More like avoiding any deep topics,” she shot back, daring him to push it. She took another long sip, keeping her gaze steady. “Something you probably wouldn’t understand.”

“Hey, I can be serious,” Jungkook protested, still smiling but with a flicker of something else in his eyes—a shadow of something heavier that he quickly brushed off. “Truth is, things aren’t exactly easy on my end either.”

“Oh?” I glanced at Jungkook, my curiosity kicking in. He was usually the one keeping things light, making jokes to push away the weight of the world. But now, I could see something different, something heavier beneath that grin. “What’s going on?”

He sighed, looking down at the ground. “Family’s a mess,” he said quietly. “My dad’s still reeling from everything that went down in the last battle, and my brother… he’s acting like he’s the only one carrying the weight of it all. Sol’s off doing her own thing, holding grudges, and honestly, the whole place feels like it’s one spark away from going up in flames.” His voice was softer than I’d ever heard, raw in a way that caught me off guard.

“That sounds… intense,” I said carefully, feeling the weight of his words settle around us. Jungkook’s carefree attitude had always masked a lot, and seeing him now, letting that mask slip, made me realize just how much he’d been holding back.

Sam leaned over, her voice surprisingly gentle. “You know we’ve got your back, right? You don’t have to handle all that alone.”

Jungkook let out a hollow laugh. “Yeah, well, you either let it chew you up, or you drown it out with jokes and a few drinks.”

“Solid plan,” Sam said, her tone light but her eyes showing a hint of worry. “But, for what it’s worth, laughter doesn’t really fix things. Sooner or later, you’ve got to face it.”

“And who says I’m avoiding anything?” Jungkook shot back with a smirk, though there was a hint of something unsteady beneath it. “Look, I just think there’s a time and place for heavy stuff. And right now? I’d rather laugh with my friends than dwell on things I can’t change.”

I raised my bottle with a nod. “Sometimes, laughter is all we’ve got.”

“Exactly!” Jungkook’s grin was back, and he lifted his bottle high. “To laughter, and to the best friends a guy could ask for!”

We clinked bottles, the sound breaking through the quiet night. In that moment, our laughter felt like defiance against everything weighing on us, a tiny spark of hope pushing back the dark. Just being here together, sharing the night, dulled some of the sharper edges we all carried.

“So,” Jungkook leaned in, eyes gleaming, “what’s next? More drinks? Truth or dare? Let’s shake things up!”

“Let’s not get too wild,” Sam cautioned, but there was a glint in her eye that showed she was curious. “There’s enough chaos in our lives without us adding more.”

“True,” Jungkook said, still grinning. “But hey, look at us—we’re here, aren’t we? That’s got to count for something.”

The weight of reality hadn’t disappeared, but for now, with their laughter and lightness, it felt manageable. The past and future could wait. Right now, the warmth of friendship was enough.

Sam’s eyes lit up, mischief in her expression. “How about a round of ‘I Bet the Devil’? Ever played, Yoongi?”

I raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at my lips. “Oh, I’ve heard of it. Are you sure you’re up for it?”

Sam laughed, leaning forward. “Try me.”

“Fine, I’ll start.” I tried to keep a straight face. “I bet the Devil… I’ve never snuck out at night.”

Sam snorted, shaking her head. “Who hasn’t done that? That’s like, a rite of passage!”

“Way to ruin my dramatic moment,” I shot back, fighting a smile. “For the record, I wasn’t held as a child either.”

“Oh, so tragic,” Sam replied with exaggerated pity.

Jungkook leaned in, grinning. “My turn! I bet the Devil… I had a crush on a teacher.”

Sam and I groaned, and Jungkook laughed, looking only slightly embarrassed. “What? They were cool!” he defended.

“All right, my turn,” Sam said, her eyes dancing with mischief. “I bet the Devil… I frequently trip over nothing.”

I raised my bottle with a smirk. “Taking shots at my coordination? Thanks, Sam.”

She shrugged, unapologetic, and the laughter that followed wrapped around us like a warm blanket, each joke lifting a bit of the heaviness that had weighed us down. Just for this moment, everything felt lighter.

As the night stretched on, our laughter softened, giving way to a comfortable silence that settled between us. Jungkook’s smile was contagious, and Sam’s quick wit kept us laughing, creating a kind of rhythm that made the night feel almost normal—like nothing existed beyond this porch and the quiet shadows.

The morning light, dim and sluggish, barely cut through the grimy tavern windows, casting a muted glow over the worn-out room. I slouched over my so-called breakfast—a sad pile of overcooked eggs and toast that was more like cardboard. But hunger didn’t leave much room for pickiness. Each bite felt like swallowing down the previous night: the greasy taste of regret, the lingering headache from too much drink and forced laughter, and the ache of trying to hold onto any scrap of connection left.

I pushed the plate away, the clink of the fork against the plate feeling too loud, too sharp. Since I’d lost my sight, sound had filled the emptiness, each noise amplified, vivid, impossible to ignore. It was like living without a filter, with every creak of the floorboards and murmur of conversation in the tavern drilling straight into me. The voices around me rose and fell, snippets of people’s lives passing by while I just… sat here, feeling like I was drifting somewhere I couldn’t quite reach.

The door creaked open, and a cool morning breeze slipped in, carrying two voices I’d know anywhere. Hoseok’s laughter rang out first, light and familiar, followed by Hyuna’s soft chuckle. Their voices cut through the clamor, warm and reassuring in a way that made me remember what it was like to feel grounded.

“Mind if we join you?” Hoseok asked, his tone as easygoing as ever, though I could sense the weariness beneath it all.

I gestured to the empty seats, managing a small smile. “Not at all. Just be warned, the food’s about as appealing as it looks.”

Hyuna eyed my plate with a smirk. “Greasy, stale, and questionable… just like this town, huh?”

“Pretty much,” I muttered, pushing the plate even farther away.

Hoseok chuckled, though it lacked his usual energy. “Hey, at least it’s not rations straight out of a tin. I’ll take overcooked eggs any day.”

We shared a weak laugh, but the moment was short-lived. The weight of everything we’d been through, the constant worry, crept back in, thick and heavy. Hoseok leaned back, his eyes distant. “Bridd saved my life in the last battle,” he said quietly. “I don’t even know how, but she did. I keep thinking about how… it should be me out there instead of her, alone.”

Silence settled over us, broken only by the faint clinking of glasses and low murmurs from across the room. I felt a pang deep in my chest, the reminder of Bridd’s absence hitting hard. She’d been our anchor, the one who always kept us steady. Without her, it was like we were all just… floating.

“You miss her,” I said softly, voicing what I think we all felt.

Hoseok nodded, his face etched with worry. “I think we all do. But Jimin’s taking it the hardest. He’s been beating himself up ever since that argument they had before she left. This war… it’s wearing us all down. It’s not just the fights; it’s the way it’s breaking us on the inside.”

Hyuna’s face softened, her gaze somewhere far away. “I keep thinking I should have said something to her, thanked her for everything. But I didn’t. None of us did, really. We just assumed she’d always be here, like she’d always be the one holding us together.”

I swallowed, the words coming out rough. “She’s the heart of this group. I don’t know if she realized how much she held us all together.”

Hoseok’s hand rested on the table, fingers tapping lightly. “I can’t even think about what it’d be like if she doesn’t come back. Jimin’s putting on a strong front, but he’s falling apart.”

“He’s been so distant lately,” I murmured, barely louder than a whisper. “It’s like he doesn’t know who he is without her.”

Hyuna nodded, her voice low. “We have to keep an eye on him. He’s carrying too much of this alone. We can’t let him fall apart.”

Their words echoed my own thoughts, the fears I tried to keep buried. I clenched my fists under the table, feeling the rough wood grain against my fingers, grounding myself as the tavern’s hum of voices and clinking glasses filled the background. Out there, life went on, ordinary and uninterrupted. But here, in our small corner, the weight of it all pressed down on us, keeping us isolated even in a crowded room.

Hoseok broke the silence with a sigh. “I just hope Bridd’s safe, wherever she is. The longer she’s gone, the emptier it feels around here. It’s like… we’re all just drifting, waiting for something to pull us back together.”

“Wherever she is,” I said, my voice barely a whisper, “I hope she knows she’s not alone. That we’re waiting for her.” I raised my glass, the coolness a small comfort in my hand. “To Bridd,” I said, feeling a tightness in my chest. “To her strength, her courage, and her safe return.”

Hoseok and Hyuna lifted their glasses, the quiet clink a small promise between us. “To Bridd,” they echoed, their voices low. For a brief moment, as we drank, a flicker of warmth settled over us, a fragile spark of hope.

But as soon as it came, it faded, leaving us with the same hard reality pressing down. The brief lift of hope slipped away, and the weight of everything yet to come settled back in.

Hoseok set his glass down with a soft thud, looking at me with an unusual seriousness. “Yoongi,” he said quietly, “have you thought about what happens after all this? After the war?”

The question hit me harder than I expected. Survival had become everything, the only thing. Thinking beyond it felt foreign, like I didn’t even remember what it was like to dream of something else.

I needed air. Somehow, I managed to make it outside, bumping into a few chairs and a table on the way. Once I felt the cool breeze hit my face, I leaned back against the weathered wall, letting the cold ground me. It cut through the fog in my head, the chilly morning a relief from the tavern’s stuffiness.

As I stood there, I let my mind drift back to the battle that had left me like this, fumbling in a world of shadows. The same battle that had taken Bridd from us, casting her out into danger alone. The chill pressed into me, anchoring me in the present, but memories of that day, of everything that had changed, still clung to me like shadows I couldn’t shake.

The smell of blood and smoke had filled the air, the screams and clashing steel blurring together. I remembered the weight of my sword, the way it vibrated with each swing, each hit. The elves had charged us like shadows given form, fast and brutal. I’d fought, felt the sting of cuts I barely noticed through the adrenaline. And then, in one blinding flash, my world went dark.

Since then, darkness was all I’d known—a constant, suffocating shadow. Every day felt like stumbling through a world turned upside down. Sounds felt sharper, sensations more intense, but none of it made up for what I’d lost. Each day was a battle just to keep going, to find some sense of myself in all this.

“Yoongi?”

I turned, steadying myself against the wall. Hoseok’s footsteps were careful, like he didn’t want to startle me. I hadn’t heard him come outside.

“Are you okay?” His voice was soft, laced with concern, the familiarity grounding me a bit, even as the question lingered. I didn’t have an easy answer.

“I just… I needed a minute.” I tried to keep my voice steady. “Everything feels so heavy. Like I’m trying to keep my head above water, but there’s this weight holding me down.”

Hoseok was quiet for a second, then I felt his hand on my shoulder, a steady, grounding presence. “We’re all carrying more than we should. You can talk to me. Maybe it’ll help. What does it feel like?”

A bitter laugh slipped out. “It’s not that simple, Hoseok. I can’t even see what’s in front of me anymore. Everything I counted on—it’s all gone.”

“I know.” His voice softened, like he was reaching back to who he’d been before the war changed us both. “But we’re still here.”

The words settled over me, and instead of comfort, they just felt like a reminder of everything I’d lost, of how far I’d fallen. Bridd’s absence gnawed at me, an ache I couldn’t shake.

“What happened between Bridd and Jimin?” I asked, barely above a whisper. It was something I’d been wanting to know since she left, a question that hadn’t let me rest.

Hoseok let out a heavy sigh, like the weight of the whole story was bearing down on him. “It’s complicated,” he said. “They argued about Sol, about her leaving. Bridd was trying to protect him, and Jimin pushed for answers, and it got heated. Things were said they both regret. But Jimin…” He paused, his voice quiet. “He’s a mess without her. Regret doesn’t even cover it.”

Frustration bubbled up, and I felt my fists clench. “And Taehyung? Is he just hiding while we pick up the pieces?”

Hoseok’s grip tightened on my shoulder. “It’s not that simple, Yoongi. They’re keeping a close eye on him in the palace. He’s trying to keep his family safe and deal with everything he’s set in motion.”

“That doesn’t excuse him,” I snapped, my anger spilling over. “It doesn’t excuse any of this. We’re out here fighting while he sits behind walls. And Bridd…” My voice cracked, the ache in my chest almost too much.

“Yoongi.” Hoseok’s voice was firm, cutting through the haze of anger. “We’re all in this mess, every one of us. Blaming Taehyung won’t bring Bridd back or make this easier.”

“I know.” The anger faded, leaving only the hollow ache behind. “But it feels like everything’s falling apart, and I can’t do anything to stop it. I can’t see. I can’t fight. I’m barely holding on.”

Hoseok’s hand left my shoulder, and I sensed him leaning back against the wall beside me. “You’re stronger than you think,” he said gently. “You made it through that battle. You’re still here, and that means something, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now.”

The street around us was still, the morning quiet wrapping around us like a thin shield against the chaos of everything beyond. In that moment, it felt like we were in a bubble, the noise and weight of war held at bay just for a second.

Hyuna’s voice broke the silence as she joined us, her tone steady and sure. “We’re going to get through this, together.” Her hand found mine, warm and solid, and I gripped it like a lifeline, like something real I could hold onto.

I swallowed hard, nodding as some of the tightness in my chest eased. “I want to believe that,” I said, my voice thick with everything I’d kept buried.

“You will,” she replied, her tone unwavering. “Bridd may be gone, but we’re still here. And as long as we’re here, we’ll keep going—for her too.”

The morning air was crisp and biting, but with my friends beside me, I felt a spark of warmth, a small flicker of hope breaking through the shadows. We’d lost so much, and there was still more to face, but standing there, I felt like maybe we had enough to hold on to.

After a few minutes of quiet, Hoseok headed off to find his wife. He was more on edge about her than usual, especially with the threats creeping through Leeside, cutting through the town like a knife.

I leaned against the cold, rough wall of the building, trying to catch my breath as my mind spiraled through everything that weighed on us—the war, the losses, the unknowns stretching out in front of us like some endless road. I closed my eyes, hoping for a moment of peace, but the darkness clung to me, seeping into every corner of my mind.

The sound of footsteps pulled me back to reality. I turned toward them, and relief flickered through me when I saw Sam and Jungkook. They walked with that same quiet resolve we all seemed to have now, their faces showing the weight they carried, but just seeing them grounded me. Reminded me that, somehow, I wasn’t alone in all this.

“Hey,” Sam said, her voice soft, but her eyes searching mine like she could see straight through me. “You okay?”

I forced a small smile, though it felt like it might break at any second. “Just needed some air,” I replied, even though my voice sounded as worn out as I felt. “How about you two? Holding up?”

Jungkook shrugged, his jaw tight, his usual spark dimmed. “Same as everyone else, I guess. Just… trying to make sense of it.” His voice was low, a shadow of his usual tone. He looked away, staring into the distance like he was holding back everything he couldn’t say out loud.

Sam took a small step closer, her expression softening. “We figured you’d be here,” she said gently, her tone carrying the same sadness that weighed on all of us. “Hyuna told me what happened. Are you alright?”

I swallowed, the ache in my chest tightening, sharp and cold. “Yeah,” I managed, barely above a whisper. “I’m just… everyone keeps talking about Bridd, and it hurts knowing she’s not here to see it.”

The three of us stood there, caught in a silence heavy with grief. The world around us blurred, leaving only the sting of loss and the weight of everything we’d been through. Bridd was more than just a friend—she’d been our anchor, our hope, our strength when we needed it most. And now, that strength was gone, taken from us by this relentless war.

Sam finally broke the silence, her voice a little rough, almost choked. “You know, Jin told me once that Bridd used to say hope was like a stubborn weed. You could try to pull it out as many times as you wanted, but it would always come back, even stronger.” She let out a soft laugh, one that sounded more sad than happy. “I never thought I’d be clinging to her words like they were all I had left.”

“She believed in that hope, even when the rest of us couldn’t,” Jungkook added, his voice raw. “She made us believe, too.”

I nodded, the sharp ache of missing her settling deep. “She wouldn’t want us to give up,” I said, feeling the truth of it as the words slipped out. “She fought for this—for us. I can’t let her down.”

Sam reached out, her hand resting gently on my shoulder, her touch grounding me. “We’re with you, Yoongi. No matter what happens, we’ll face it together.”

Jungkook moved closer, placing his hand on my other shoulder, his grip strong. “For Bridd,” he said, his voice filled with quiet determination, “and for everyone we’ve lost.”

Bridd had given everything she had to protect us, to stand for something bigger than herself. And even though she was gone, her spirit lived on in each of us, in the bonds we shared, in the unbreakable strength that kept us going. The road ahead was dark, full of uncertainty, but we’d walk it together.

As the sun slowly rose, casting light across the worn cobblestones, I felt a hint of warmth—a reminder that dawn always comes after the darkest nights. We couldn’t change the past, couldn’t erase what we’d lost, but we could honor Bridd’s memory by holding onto hope, by fighting on. She’d left us with that much: a spark of resilience even in the deepest dark.

“For Bridd,” I murmured, looking at Sam and Jungkook, feeling that small spark of hope catch once again.

I stood by the river, watching as the first golden light of the sun hit the water, scattering in a way that felt like promises—warm but fleeting. The river sparkled, flowing along like nothing had changed, as if it didn’t know how wrong things were now. Each flicker of light only made the ache inside me worse, a reminder of everything I’d lost: my sight, my strength, and the confidence that had once felt as natural as breathing. Now, whenever I tried to summon my magic, it was like grasping at smoke—something just out of reach, slipping through my fingers no matter how hard I tried to hold on.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to reach for the magic, like it was still somewhere inside me. It used to come so easily, like a flick of my wrist, a thought. But now, every attempt was a struggle, a tugging on something deep within me that felt barely there. The light that had once danced at my fingertips was barely a spark now, flickering out before it could even form. Frustration twisted in my chest, sharp and tight, a constant reminder that I wasn’t who I used to be.

Flashes of the last battle came back to me—the clash of metal, the roar of flames, the chaos that blurred right before my world went dark. The elves had come at us like shadows, swift and ruthless, their arrows deadly. In those final moments, something inside me had broken. And now, as much as I wanted to fix it, I wasn’t sure I knew how.

I tried to shake the memory off, forcing myself to focus on the gentle sounds of the river. But even that peace felt distant. Bridd’s face surfaced in my mind, and I felt the sting of her absence all over again. Then, I could almost hear Ji-Hyun’s laughter, taunting me with every failure, every spark of magic that sputtered out. I clenched my fists, trying to channel the frustration into something useful—something that might remind me that I hadn’t lost myself entirely.

“Come on,” I muttered under my breath. “You can do this.” But all I got were a few faint sparks that faded into the air. Every failure widened the hollow ache inside, gnawing at my resolve. Without my sight, everything felt strange, like I was stuck in someone else’s life. Doubts crept in, telling me all the things I didn’t want to believe.

The riverbank was too quiet—a thick, lonely silence that just reminded me how isolated I felt. I wished someone were there, just to break me out of my own head for a while. A rustling in the bushes made me jump, my body tensing instinctively. But it was only a bird, flapping away, leaving me alone again. I sighed, looking up at the sky, where the sun was beginning to set, stretching long shadows over the ground like reaching fingers.

I tried again, reaching for the magic, but it slipped away, useless. Every failed attempt felt like a punch, reminding me that I was no longer the person everyone had once counted on. I was just a shadow now—stumbling through the dark, holding onto pieces of my old self that seemed to drift further away each day.

Frustration built up until I couldn’t hold it in, and I let out a shout—raw, loud, breaking the quiet. I kicked at the dirt, wishing I could do something—anything—to shake this feeling, to get out of the cage I felt trapped in. But the river kept flowing, steady and uncaring, while I stood there, stuck.

“Get it together,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “You’re stronger than this.” I had to be. For Bridd, for Jimin, for everyone who’d counted on me in that battle. I had to believe there was a way forward, even if it meant stumbling through the darkness, even if I had to reach for the parts of myself that still felt out of reach.

I took a step back from the river’s edge, feeling the solid ground under my feet—something I could still rely on. My magic was still there, somewhere, even if it was weak and fractured. I had to believe I could find it again. I wasn’t ready to give up, not yet.

The sun dipped lower behind the mountains, painting the sky in soft hues of orange and purple—colors I could barely make out but remembered vividly. The river glowed in the twilight, and the world felt softened, muted. I leaned against a twisted tree, still caught up in the mess of my own frustration, when I heard her voice.

“Yoongi?”

It was soft, like she wasn’t sure if she should interrupt. But there was warmth in it, something gentle that made my chest ache in a way I couldn’t name. I turned toward the sound, and even though I couldn’t see her, I could feel her presence. Sam had this way of showing up without even needing to touch you, her warmth reaching out on its own.

“I thought I might find you here.”

I tried to smile, though it probably came out tired. “Hey,” I said, my voice sounding as worn as I felt. “Didn’t realize it had been that long.”

Her footsteps were soft as she came closer, careful, as if not to startle me. I could picture her there, head tilted, looking at me with that slight frown she wore whenever she was worried. Sam always watched without saying much, checking in without needing to ask.

“You looked like you were somewhere else,” she said quietly. “I just came from Jimin’s. He’s… well, he’s managing. Sort of.”

I swallowed, the guilt biting deeper. “Is he alright?” The words slipped out before I could stop them.

She hesitated, and I felt her shift, searching for the right thing to say. “Not really,” she admitted. “But he’s trying. We all are.”

I nodded, her words tightening something inside me. “It’s hard to shake this feeling. Like I’m trapped, stuck in this loop, trying to make sense of everything.” My voice broke a little, and I hated how small and raw it sounded.

Sam moved closer, her hand resting lightly on my arm. She didn’t pull me into a hug or make a big deal of it; she just stood there, steady, her warmth comforting. “You’ve been practicing, haven’t you?” she asked, so gently that I almost wanted to cry.

“Yeah,” I said, lifting my hands, as if to show her what I couldn’t put into words. I focused, feeling the faint warmth start to build up, just enough for a small glow—but then it faded, leaving my hands empty. “It’s like… I can’t even trust myself anymore.”

She didn’t speak right away. Her hand stayed on my arm, her thumb tracing small circles on my sleeve in absent comfort. “I get it,” she said finally, and I could hear the honesty in her voice, like she really did understand. “But fear’s tricky, Yoongi. If you let it, it’ll take over. It’s okay to be scared, but don’t let it make your choices for you.”

Frustration spiked again, making my voice come out sharper than I wanted. “It’s not that simple, Sam.”

She didn’t pull back, didn’t flinch. Instead, she squeezed my arm a little tighter. “No, it’s not simple. None of this is.” Her voice was fierce, like she needed me to understand. “But you can’t keep running from it. You’ve got to face it, even if it scares you.”

Her words hit me hard, and I felt my throat tighten. “I wish I could be as strong as you,” I whispered, the vulnerability slipping out before I could stop it.

She slid her hand down, finding mine, her grip warm and steady, like she wouldn’t let go. “Being strong doesn’t mean you’re not scared,” she said. “It just means you keep going anyway. I’m scared too, Yoongi. We all are.”

Her words settled around me, and for the first time, the weight on my chest felt a little lighter. I swallowed, her honesty touching something deep that I hadn’t let anyone near. “I don’t want to bother everything,” I said, the words breaking as they left me.

“You’re not bothering anyone,” she said, her voice fierce. “Not me, at least. You matter, Yoongi. You matter to us.” Her words felt like a lifeline, pulling me out of the storm.

Something warm flickered in my chest, fragile but real. “I just… I don’t want you to feel like you have to carry me,” I murmured, barely audible.

She squeezed my hand a little tighter, her voice softening. “I care about you, Yoongi,” she said, her voice almost like a promise. “And that’s not something you get to decide for me. You matter, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Even without seeing her, I could feel her gaze, warm and steady. I let out a shaky breath, realizing that maybe I didn’t have to be strong on my own. Maybe there was strength in letting others stand with me, even when I couldn’t see the way forward.

“Thank you,” I whispered, feeling the weight of those words, knowing they weren’t enough. Her kindness, her unwavering support—it was something to hold on to, something to keep me grounded, even if only a little.

She smiled, and though I couldn’t see it, I felt it. “You don’t need to thank me,” she said softly. “Just let me be here, okay?”

I nodded, and we let the silence settle around us—a silence that

spoke louder than words. The river murmured, the leaves rustled above, and as the night crept in, I felt the gentle hum of life still moving forward.

The darkness wasn’t gone—it never really was. It still hovered there, like a shadow clinging to my mind. But with Sam’s hand in mine, something shifted, like those shadows had loosened, just enough to let a little light slip in. The sun had finally dipped behind the mountains, leaving the sky streaked in deep oranges and purples—beautiful, but tinged with a kind of sadness, like saying goodbye to another day. But maybe that wasn’t so bad. I took a deep breath, letting the cool night air settle me, and felt more grounded than I had in a long time.

“You’re right,” I said quietly, my voice a little stronger, even though I still felt shaky inside. It was a steadiness that came after a storm—no idea where I stood exactly, but clearer than before. “I need to face this. All of it.”

Sam gave me a soft smile; I could hear it in her voice. “One step at a time, okay? You don’t need to have it all figured out. None of us do.” Her words felt gentle but solid, like something to hold onto.

I nodded, feeling a gratitude I couldn’t quite put into words. The darkness was still there, but knowing I didn’t have to handle it alone made everything feel less impossible.

After a moment, Sam’s tone shifted, her voice taking on that playful edge I’d come to rely on. “So, I’ve got some gossip for you,” she said, like she was letting me in on some juicy secret.

My curiosity sparked, tugging me out of the heavy thoughts weighing me down. I let my fingers dip into the river, feeling the cool water wash over them, almost like it could rinse some of the dark thoughts away. I could sense her leaning in beside me, close enough that her warmth pushed back against the night’s chill.

“What’s the gossip?” I asked, my tone lighter, a bit of the old playfulness sneaking back in.

“Turns out Hyun-Jin was the one who tipped Sol off about Bridd,” she said in a low, secretive voice, like we were swapping secrets under a blanket fort. “Taehyung only confirmed it when she backed him into a corner. She wouldn’t have believed it otherwise.”

Hyun-Jin’s name made my stomach clench, any hint of lightness vanishing. “Why would he do that?” I muttered, not really expecting an answer that would make any of this better.

Sam leaned in closer, her breath warm in the cool air. “Lorcan overheard Hyun-Jin arguing with his wife,” she whispered. “Hyun-Jin’s best friend died in the siege, and he blames Bridd for not warning them. He thought she knew and kept it quiet. He’s angry, Yoongi, and telling Sol was his way of lashing out.”

I clenched my jaw, feeling the bitterness rise. Hyun-Jin’s grudge was like a poison, and his need for revenge was threatening to tear apart everything we’d fought so hard to hold together. “Great,” I muttered sarcastically. “Just what we need. Another reason for everyone to turn on each other.”

Sam sighed, her shoulders slumping a little. “Exactly. Everyone’s already on edge, and Lorcan thinks Jimin doesn’t know yet. We can’t let him find out—not like this.”

I stared out at the river, watching the way the water flowed, steady and constant, even as everything else seemed to be falling apart. I could picture Jimin’s face if he found out, the anger that would rise up in him, fierce and unchecked. “If Jimin finds out,” I whispered, the weight of it settling on my chest, “it wouldn’t surprise me if he killed Hyun-Jin. And that would be the end of whatever stability we have left.”

“That’s why we can’t let it get to that point,” Sam said, her voice sharper now, cutting through my spiraling thoughts. “We have to handle this carefully. One wrong move, and everything could fall apart.”

I let out a long breath, feeling the weight of her words pressing down. “But what can we really do, Sam? We’re just trying to keep from drowning here.”

“Maybe,” she admitted, her tone softening. “But we can watch, we can listen, and we can make sure Jimin hears the truth in a way that won’t tear everything apart. We know him, Yoongi. We’re his friends.”

I turned toward her, even though I couldn’t see her face clearly. “Together,” I echoed, letting the word settle. It was simple, but it felt like a promise, something solid in the middle of all this uncertainty. “I like the sound of that.”

She nudged my shoulder, a smile clear in her voice. “Good. Because I’m not letting you carry this alone. You’ve got enough to deal with.”

A real smile crept onto my face, a warmth flickering to life. Despite everything still weighing me down, Sam was like an anchor—a reminder that maybe, just maybe, I could get through this with her by my side.

As we sat there in the quiet, though, the ache of Bridd’s absence hit me hard, sharp and raw. I could almost hear her laugh, see her smile, and for a second, it was like she was still here. But then it was gone, leaving that hollow ache that wouldn’t quite fade. Sam’s hand rested on my shoulder, steady and warm, but even her kindness couldn’t fill the space Bridd had left behind.

The last of the daylight slipped away, leaving the sky a deep indigo. I took a breath, letting the cool air calm me, and nodded to myself. “You’re right,” I said again, the words easier this time. “No more hiding.”

Sam’s smile was soft but sure. “One step at a time, Yoongi. We’re all just trying to figure this out. You don’t have to have all the answers right now.”

I nodded, letting her words settle in. Sam always knew when to be gentle, even when the world felt like it was unraveling. Tonight, I was more grateful for that than I could ever say.

“So he’s punishing Bridd for something she couldn’t control?” I shook my head, the disgust settling in my chest.

Sam nodded, her expression hardening. “Yeah, but he’s misjudged how this’ll play out. Callisto isn’t taking it lightly either. If she finds out about Hyun-Jin’s involvement, things could get… ugly.”

I clenched my fists, feeling the tension build as I imagined the fallout. “If Jimin hears it from anyone but us… it’ll destroy everything. It’ll be a civil war, and there’s no way the Park brothers could fight each other like that. It would all fall apart.”

Sam’s eyes softened, the sharpness fading as she looked at me, something real and unguarded in her expression. “Then we make sure he hears it from us,” she said firmly. “But we have to confront Hyun-Jin first. And we need to tread lightly. If he feels like we’re accusing him, he’ll just deny everything.”

“And if he does?” I muttered, running a hand through my hair, feeling the frustration build. “What if he thinks we’re just sticking our noses where they don’t belong?”

Sam’s gaze held steady, her determination like a solid wall. “Then we make him see this isn’t just about him. It’s about all of us—especially Jimin. If Hyun-Jin has any loyalty left, he’ll understand.”

I let Sam’s words sink in, and for the first time, the grip of doubt around my heart loosened, even if just a little. The uncertainty was still there, but her conviction—it was hard not to let it stick. “You really think he’ll listen?” I asked, almost talking to myself more than to her.

“Everyone’s got a weak spot, Yoongi,” she replied, her gaze steady. “We just need to find his. And from what I’ve seen, Callisto might be it. The heart of a wolf is always bound to his mate.”

Her words felt like the first hints of a plan, fragile but real. I could almost picture a way forward as we started walking along the riverbank, the twilight casting everything in shades of silver and deep blue. A quiet sense of purpose stirred inside me, growing stronger with each step beside Sam.

“And Jimin?” I asked, my voice tight. “If he finds out before we talk to Hyun-Jin…”

“We won’t let that happen,” she said quickly, her tone so steady it made me feel braver. “We’ll get to him as soon as we can and tell him the truth. He’ll trust us, Yoongi. He has to.”

“Yeah,” I replied, letting her confidence seep into me, feeling my doubts start to ease. “For once, maybe we’ll actually get ahead of it all instead of watching everything fall apart.”

The evening deepened, stars slowly coming into view, softening the world around us. The night felt quiet, like it was giving us this rare moment to just breathe. I glanced at Sam, the gratitude I felt for her presence warming me in a way I hadn’t expected.

“Thanks, Sam,” I murmured, my voice catching a little as I looked away. It didn’t feel like enough, but I meant it. “For sticking with me through all of this.”

She gave my hand a gentle squeeze, her touch warm and grounding. “No need to thank me, Yoongi,” she said, her voice as steady as ever. “We’re in this together. Besides,” she added, a little smile creeping into her tone, “you keep me grounded too. Honestly, I might’ve lost it ages ago without you around to keep me steady.”

A laugh escaped me, breaking through the quiet. “So we balance each other out, huh? Fire and ice?”

“Fire and ice,” she echoed, her eyes gleaming with that familiar spark of mischief that always seemed to make things feel lighter. “But I’m air, and you’re more like earth than anything else.”

We kept walking until the path ended, the night stretching out above us in a blanket of stars, their light soft and calm. For a brief moment, I felt a sense of peace settle over me, a quiet resolve wrapping around me like a shield against the cold.

Whatever happened with Hyun-Jin, whatever came next with Jimin, I knew we’d face it together. And somehow, in that moment, knowing that was enough. It felt fragile, like a flame flickering in the wind, but it was real. And that was all I needed.

I stared into my drink, watching the amber liquid swirl, blurring like everything else in my head. I didn’t want to think about why I was here or what I was doing, but somehow, even with all the whiskey in the world, my mind refused to let go. The tavern was its usual dim, loud self—a mix of voices, clinking glasses, and the smell of stale beer hanging in the air. None of it could drown out the emptiness that seemed to have carved a place inside me.

Then the door swung open, and a familiar laugh sliced through the noise, grating and sharp. I glanced up, the blurry form of Hyun-Jin stepping into the dim light, his mouth twisted in that smug, careless grin he always wore. He spotted me right away, and instead of looking the other way, like a decent person would, he headed straight toward me. I could already feel my chest tighten, my hand curling into a fist around my glass.

“Well, well, look who’s here,” he said, sliding into the stool beside me without an invitation. “Didn’t expect to find you out, Yoongi. Figured you’d be off somewhere crying about poor little Y/N.”

His words hit me like a slap, but I bit down the anger that flared up, keeping my eyes on my drink. “You don’t get to say her name,” I muttered, my voice low, hoping he’d take the hint and leave. But he just laughed.

“Oh, I don’t?” He leaned in closer, a sneer twisting his mouth. “Last time I checked, I was free to say whatever I wanted. She wasn’t exactly the saint you all like to pretend she was.”

That was it. I couldn’t keep it in anymore. I straightened, turning to face him, letting all the anger I’d been holding back finally show. “You’re one to talk about Bridd. This mess? You’re the reason it all went to hell in the first place.”

He rolled his eyes, leaning back, looking completely unfazed. “Oh please, don’t try to put that on me. What did I do, exactly?”

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to stay calm. “You told Sol. You’re the one who told her Bridd left town. You basically handed her all the ammunition she needed to turn everything upside down. It's your fault the story was so twisted and convoluted. You manipulated a teenage girl to run and tell your brother a bunch of bullshit about his girlfriend, so you didn't have to get your hands dirty, you filthy mutt.”

Hyun-Jin snorted, a bitter laugh escaping him. “Oh, so now I’m responsible for her choices? Bridd wanted to play hero. She got what she deserved.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. The rage bubbled up, twisting my stomach, and before I knew it, I was out of my seat, my fists clenched tight. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. Bridd was trying to protect us, all of us. She had the guts to do something while you sat around running your mouth.”

His face twisted into something ugly, his eyes flashing. “Protect us? Please. Bridd was a selfish, arrogant mess, always acting like she was better than everyone. And you? Pathetic, moping around here, pretending like she cared about you.” His words turned venomous, each one a slap in the face. “She didn’t give a damn about anyone but herself. She's a murderer.”

That was it. Every bit of anger and grief I’d been trying to bury boiled over, and before I knew it, my fist connected with his jaw, the impact sending a shockwave up my arm. Hyun-Jin stumbled back, clutching his face, but he recovered fast, his face twisting with fury. He came at me, grabbing my collar, and his fist crashed into my cheek, hard enough to make my vision blur.

The tavern around us erupted in shouts, people scrambling out of the way, but I barely registered it. All I could focus on was Hyun-Jin’s smug, hateful face, and the satisfaction of finally, finally hitting him. I was ready to go at him again, but then someone yanked me back, a strong hand pulling me away from the fight. Dizzy and disoriented, I looked up to see Jimin, his face tight with anger.

“That’s enough,” Jimin said, his voice cold and hard, a tone I’d rarely heard from him. He was glaring at Hyun-Jin, and even through my own fury, I could see the barely contained rage simmering under his expression. “Get out, Hyun-Jin.”

Hyun-Jin wiped the blood from his lip, glaring back at me. “Maybe you should keep your little witch on a leash, then,” he spat, his voice dripping with venom. He threw one last look my way, filled with contempt, before storming off, muttering curses under his breath.

Jimin’s grip on my shoulder tightened as he steadied me, his gaze full of disappointment and frustration. “Sit down,” he muttered, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re going to regret this tomorrow if you keep going.”

I pulled away from him, stumbling back to my seat at the bar, feeling the sting in my cheek where Hyun-Jin had hit me. The pain throbbed, a dull ache that only added to the hollow feeling gnawing away at my insides. Jimin lingered a moment, watching me like he wanted to say something, but I couldn’t bring myself to meet his gaze. Eventually, he turned and walked off, leaving me alone in the swirl of whispers and judging stares.

The other patrons were all looking at me now, whispering, and I could feel their eyes on me, sharp and heavy. I tried to ignore them, tried to focus on the glass in front of me, the warmth of the whiskey as I took another sip. But the shame, the humiliation, settled over me like a weight I couldn’t shake.

Hyun-Jin’s words echoed in my head, twisting and cruel, sinking into the darkest parts of me. He’d said she didn’t care. He’d said I was pathetic for mourning her. And no matter how hard I tried to drown them out, his words stuck, settling in the back of my mind, dragging me down.

Bridd would hate seeing me like this, sinking into anger and self-pity, letting someone like Hyun-Jin get to me. She’d tell me to get it together, to focus on what mattered, to stop hiding behind the bottle. But even her memory wasn’t enough to pull me out tonight. I was tired. Too tired to pretend that I could just keep pushing forward. The weight of everything—her absence, the fallout of Hyun-Jin’s betrayal, the feeling that I was failing everyone—felt like too much.

I took another long drink, ignoring the whispers that had grown louder, filling the room like an invisible fog, thick and suffocating. I couldn’t shake the feeling that they were right. That maybe I was pathetic, maybe I was just another broken piece left in the wake of everything Bridd had tried to hold together. The thought settled like a stone in my chest, heavy and cold.

So I sat there, alone with my drink, letting the shadows press in closer. The world around me blurred, slipping further away as the familiar numbness took over. The ache in my chest, the bruising on my cheek, the weight of everyone’s stares—all of it faded into the background. All that was left was the silence, dark and all-consuming, wrapping around me like a blanket, pulling me under.

And for the first time, I didn’t try to fight it.

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© chimcess, 2024. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[imawreck]

Soldat

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier x Original Character

Summary: Max is rescued, but she isn’t the same… and she makes a hard choice.

Warnings: Graphic like always, mentions of hospital stuff, mind manipulation, cliffhanger (sorta), scars

Word Count: 4,656

Tony-

I couldn’t figure out how it’d happened. How Bucky had went all Winter Soldier without his trigger words, or why Friday hadn’t immediately notified us.

He must’ve tricked her, but that still didn’t answer what caused the switch. Those answers would have to wait until after I wasn’t staring down the barrel of a gun, though.

Bucky spoke in Russian, and I couldn’t understand what he was saying to Rumlow. Whatever it was, the man had gone paler than a ghost in the clutches of Bucky’s metal arm. Steve shifted his weight on his feet anxiously beside me, like he wanted to intervene, but the guy was beat up as hell.

And frankly, I didn’t think anything could stop the man in front of us.

Not with the way the rage shone in his eyes, the way it rolled off of him like he could barely contain himself.

Bucky’s head snapped towards me, beckoning me forward with the nose of his gun. “Escort us to the hangar. If anything gets in my way, I’ll kill you and everyone in this building.” I took a hesitant step forward, feeling Steve’s worried gaze on my back. Bucky’s eyes snapped to Steve, “You too.” Steve limped forward, holding his ribs.

Bucky’s hand still clenched around Rumlow’s throat as he turned back to him. I watched as he set his feet back onto the floor only to kick his knees out from below him and exchange his neck for the front of his shirt. He jerked his head towards the door, eyeing Cap and I, “Elevator. Now.”

Bucky began dragging Rumlow’s struggling form towards the elevator as he kicked and screamed.

“Friday,” I said shakily, and Bucky paused at my words. His whole body tensed, cold blue eyes boring into me. I knew that if I said one single word out of line, this would be where I died. “Don’t engage alarm system. Keep us incognito.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Bucky’s shoulders relaxed a fraction before he was back to dragging Rumlow after us. We crammed into the elevator, both Cap and I putting as much distance between Bucky and ourselves as we could as he forced Rumlow to his knees in front of himself, metal fingers gripping the nape of his neck to force his head down.

Bucky’s gravely voice bit something out in Russian, and Rumlow shuddered. “S-she’s alive, I swear,” Rumlow answered in English, “I saw her myself.”

This seemed to both assure and infuriate Bucky. Another rumbled Russian sentence was spoken.

I watched as Rumlow’s throat bobbed, and fear leaked into his eyes as he stared at the ascending floor of the elevator. “She was undergoing an operation when I left,” he swallowed, “but she was alive.”

Again, a growled question on Russian.

“I don’t know! I was just there t-to…” It seemed Rumlow had thought better of what he was going to say, and his jaw clamped shut.

Bucky gripped the back of his hair and slammed his face into the elevator doors hard enough to dent the steel. There was a sickening crunch and a garbled cry.

“Ready a jet. Weapons, fuel, everything.” Bucky didn’t look back at me as he spoke, only kept staring down at Rumlow’s mangled and bleeding face.

I nodded, muttering for Friday to do as he asks.

When the elevator leveled out, Bucky kept us pinned with the gun as he dragged Rumlow towards the jet that was already running, fully stocked and prepped for takeoff. It was a single person jet for solo missions, nearly imperceptible if it weren’t for the tracker embedded in it.

Just as I had thought it though, he tore open one of the side compartments by the door and yanked out the wires, tossing the small tracking device to the floor and crushing it under his boot.

He leveled us with a gun one last time, eyes wild. “Don’t follow, and don’t send anyone.”

I honest to God don’t know why he hadn’t killed us already. Maybe it was because he hadn’t truly been triggered, but I didn’t know. Maybe it was something else entirely. Whatever the reason was, I was grateful when he lowered the gun and hustled into the jet, Rumlow shouting as he was dragged into the hangar.

Cap and I both watched as the jet lifted off and disappeared into cloud cover. It wasn’t long before Cap spoke.

“We should send a team after him. He’s not in his right mind.”

I scoffed, “No shit. But if we do, there’s no telling what he’d do. He’s unpredictable when he’s like this, and we don’t know if he has orders…” But even as I said it, I knew it wasn’t true. Bucky had only one mission in his mind.

Get Max back. And I don’t think he really cared what it cost to achieve it.

—————

Max-

I had somehow managed to fall asleep, albeit fitfully, after doing as much as I could to mend my mangled body.

I felt heavy, and my stomach growled loudly in hunger. My mouth was dry, and I honestly couldn’t remember the last time they had brought me rations. Maybe they didn’t plan to. Maybe this was it.

Giles hadn’t even showed up since he dropped me the meager medical box, and I didn’t know how long it had been since then. It could’ve been hours or days—I couldn’t keep track.

I shifted, hearing the clicking at my back and fighting the urge to claw at it. I hated it, whatever they’d done. It was annoying and loud, echoing in my skull whenever I moved. The lack of knowing what it was really haunted me, but I didn’t have the energy to panic about it. Not when I had more important things to focus on.

Hunger, thirst, pain.

I was wearing thin, and I think Giles knew it. He knew he was close to breaking me, and I wanted to make him hurt for it. I wanted to tear him to shreds, wanted to make him hurt the way I had for all those years. For stealing the sliver of peace I had been able to hold onto for the short time I was with the Avengers.

If I lived, I would spend every waking second hunting him until he was wiped clean from this world.

I closed my eyes, cheek pressed to the cold concrete with the intention of trying to sleep once again, when I felt the vibrations. A constant thundering, like a stampede was heading towards me.

My eyes snapped open, locking on the door as the grew more apparent. Shouts, all Russian and very panicked, echoed towards me.

“Protect the asset!”

“Don’t let him- he’s through the first blockade!”

Bullets thunked into the walls outside the door, pinging off metal and burying themselves in the concrete. The stomps still thundered, growing closer with the shouts and screaming men.

The door flung open a moment later, and a flurry of men in uniforms poured in. All of them wore worried, frightened expressions. They cleared a table, the contents atop it clattered to the floor as they hauled it over to block the door. They surrounded me, guns raised towards the door.

None of them seemed too concerned with me. Whatever was outside that door had scared them shitless.

Then the screaming started. Sharp and grating, just beyond the door. I could hear strangled yelling, thumping, and bullets continuing to puncture their targets.

I could sense the foreboding that settled into the soldiers surrounding my cell. I would’ve laughed if my throat wasn’t so dry I thought I’d choke.

Suddenly, all of the commotion outside the door stopped. The air stilled, and not a soul moved.

There wasn’t a sound when the figure appeared in the foggy glass window on the cell door. Tall, looming, and utterly still. The glass was old and covered in so much grime you couldn’t see in or out of it.

That didn’t seem to settle the men around my cage. They shook, bodies trembling and hearts pounding.

The figure moved fast, an arm coming up to shatter the small window and thrust something through it. The metal hit the ground, and a hissing filled the air.

I covered my face with my arm, holding my breath as gas filled the air and choked the soldiers. They struggled to yank gas masks from their belts, and I eyed the nearest soldier to the cell.

Shoving up from the ground, I gripped his tac vest and yanked him against the bars with as much strength as I could muster. He thudded against it, shouting, and dropped his mask to the floor. I yanked it into the cell, pushing myself to the center and out of reach as I fumbled with it. My lungs stung for a few moments before I jerked it over my head and set it in place.

I took a clean breath of air as they began to slump over. Dead or asleep, I didn’t want to know. I sucked in another breath, my eyes finding the door once more.

I wasn’t prepared to see his face, wasn’t prepared for the way it froze me in place and stalled my heart. Flashes of memories or hallucinations—couldn’t tell the difference anymore—barreled through my head. I couldn’t fight the knee jerk reaction to flinch away, to clench my eyes shut and push myself into the corner of my cell.

I couldn’t watch him die again. I couldn’t see his blood on my hands again.

The door scraped open, kicked in by his heavy boot. I heard the table screech across the concrete, and bodies slumping to the floor. Still, I didn’t look up.

I heard the shuffle of his clothes, the softest scuffs of his boots on the floor, saw his shadow block the light behind my eyelids. I knew he was right there. I knew it was him, and yet I couldn’t stop the dread from suffocating me.

It was too much stress for my abused mind, my tired body, and I felt my mind go dark just as the door opened.

—————

Steve-

Bucky- or rather the Winter Soldier- returned to the tower with Max two days after holding Stark and I at gunpoint on the landing bay.

Max was in critical condition when they arrived, and Bucky was still not Bucky. But he wasn’t completely the Winter Soldier either. Not in his actions, anyways. He’d broken into the med bay when he arrived back and had demanded that the Doctors in the wing tend to Max immediately. He was caring, even if it was through the threats on several individuals lives.

He wanted someone to help her.

The Avengers had all showed up on the level to handle him, and Wanda ended up restraining him with her magic and forcing him to his cell. He’d gone ballistic when we’d removed him, and he still remained the Winter Soldier even after he passed out after days of relentlessly roaring and slamming his fists into the cell walls.

It had been two weeks since then, and still wasn’t himself. Less Soldier and more… confused. And Max was in a coma.

The Doctors had done every test possible after she was deemed stable and still hadn’t woken up. Even brain scans, but they’d come up strangely. Her brain was active, more so than normal, but there were strange dark lines that moved in every scan. It was unnerving, and left the team disturbed when the information was shared with us. Wanda, who’d given a brief explanation of her last encounter with Max, had gone pale at the news and excused herself from most meetings regarding Max after that.

I’d catch Peter or Stark visiting her when they were free. They’d sit and talk with her, or sometimes just hold her hand and not talk at all. It was painful to watch even if Max and I weren’t close.

Because we weren’t close at all. Which really brought me to question why I found myself sitting in the same chair I’d seen Stark sitting in just a few hours ago. It was late, around eight. Most of the team had dismissed themselves to their rooms, and I’d taken one last round to visit Buck in his cell before I somehow found myself here.

I gazed down at Max, her body still, and her breathing even and deep. Still sleeping.

Seeing her like this, vulnerable and… and relaxed for what felt like the first time in a while was strange. It was almost like I could see her as just a woman, not as the thing I’d seen her as in that bunker. But I couldn’t forget that, probably wouldn’t for as long as I lived.

Still, it made me rethink the way I had treated her.

“Hey, Max.” I didn’t say it louder than a whisper, afraid she’d snap awake for some reason. “I… I don’t know why I’m here. Maybe because I need to apologize for the way I have spoken to you in the past. Maybe… I don’t know.”

I felt silly, sitting here alone and talking to a comatose girl I didn’t really know and didn’t know if I wanted to. But she meant something to Buck. And I had been unfair.

“Listen,” I took a breath, resting my head in the palms of my hands. “I’m sorry for the way I treated you when you were with us in the compound. I’m sorry for assuming the worst from you, even though you’d proven to us that you weren’t what Hydra wanted you to be. I owe you that.”

I looked up at her pale face, her white lashes where they remained rested closed. “Bucky isn’t the same without you. He’s�� he’s like a shell. I’ve never seen him this bad, not even before we found you. And now he’s in some sort of limbo soldier state and I don’t know how to help him. I know you would, though. You always did. Even if I disliked you for it.”

I pressed my palms to my temples. “Maybe I should… maybe he needs to see you and it would help him. Maybe if he could just be near you—.”

Something latched onto my hand, and my gaze snapped down where her hand clenched my wrist in a bruising grip. Ultramarine lines snaked out from her palm, similar to Wanda’s gift, creeping around my arm. They weren’t elegant or enchanting like Wanda’s power though. Not with the way they tangled themselves like overgrown weeds, twisting over each other as they reached towards my head.

I yanked at my hand, but her grip held fast, holding me in place as they wrapped around my neck. Part of the vining strands separated and plunged itself into my ear. I tried to scream, to call for help, but my brain blanked and my vision went white.

I thought it had, anyways. But the longer I waited, the longer I realized I was awake. That I was conscious.

And that I wasn’t alone.

Max sat on the ground in the middle of the whiteness, her expression blank and empty. She wore the hospital garb she had been in when Bucky had brought here back. The bloodied, thin fabric hung off her gaunt form.

I took a step, then another, but the closer I got, the more the whiteness around me darkened and scenery sprung around me. A cell, guards donning a red emblem that made rage flicker in my gut, and Max remained in the middle of it all.

“Max?” I kept my voice low as a guard materialized next to me.

None of what was happening made sense. I had just been in the tower sitting next to her, then here? Something was very wrong.

“Max,” I stepped closer to the cell, this time raising my voice a bit more. “Hey, it’s Steve.”

She shifted, blinking a few times and hugging herself with a shiver. I noted the cold air when she did, suddenly very aware of how real this all seemed.

Her hair fell over her eyes, and she didn’t move to fix it. “You aren’t real.”

I paused at that, frowning. I looked around, taking in the scene around me. Because that’s what I thought it was. A scene, or a memory of some sort.

I recalled the brief description of Max’s new power that Wanda had briefed us on from her experience with it. It wasn’t much to go on, seeing as Wanda was unwilling to share too much of what she’d seen. But it was the concept that I was interested in.

Wanda had seen the same disturbing blue power flaring out from Max right before she was thrown into what I could only guess was Max’s memories. Which seemed the only logical conclusion I could find as I knelt by the cell.

This must’ve been somewhere she was kept, maybe even the exact cell she was in just weeks ago. I kept taking note of what was around me, how cold the air felt, the way I could hear the shuffling of the guards. It would be easy to confuse this for reality with how detailed it was.

But certain things didn’t line up.

There was emptiness on the other side of the door to the small cell, like nothing existed outside this room. The guards eye color changed, or the weapon they held would miraculously become something different when I glanced away. It was small things, but enough to solidify my theory.

“Max.”

This time, she glanced up. Her eyes were watery and red, and her mouth was a flat emotionless line. “I really don’t need you to taunt me, Steve. Can’t you see I’m done? Can’t you see I’ve given up? It’s over!I’m tired of the pain, the hate. I’m just… I’m so tired.”

“Hey, don’t say that.” I gripped the bars, “I’m not here to taunt you, or anything like that. I…” I swallowed hard. “I was actually apologizing to you before. I knew you couldn’t hear me, but I needed to tell you that I’m sorry. I’m sorry for how I treated you, how unkind I was. You didn’t deserve that. I just didn’t understand before, I didn’t know why you were the way you are.”

Her face scrunched up in disbelief as a bitter laugh echoed off the walls. “God, even my hallucinations make you sickeningly righteous.”

I blow out a breath at that, reminding myself that she doesn’t understand that this is literally all in her head. And that she does have every right to be bitter with me. I was a prick.

“This isn’t a hallucination,” I keep my voice even and low. “What do you remember before this?”

She frowned, her eyes far off and her skin getting impossibly paler. “Winter. I remember Winter outside that door.” She nodded towards the steel door across from her, and a shadow moved over the window.

I reminded myself that this wasn’t real, and focused back on her and not the looming silhouette outside of the room. “That was real. Very real. Bucky rescued you two weeks ago. You’re currently in a coma at the tower.”

Her eyes widened, and her head started shaking slowly.

“Max, just listen to me. I’m not lying to you. Bucky got you out of here. Your powers— the new ones, they’re keeping you and I in here. Just a few minutes ago, I was sitting next to your hospital bed in the tower. I swear to you, I’m telling the truth.”

Max just stared and stared, her brows pitched upwards and a lost, almost helpless expression pouring over her features. After a while, she finally spoke up. “What do I do? I don’t know how to��� how to get us out.”

I blew out a breath, looking around. There wasn’t anything obvious that indicated an exit other than the door. I glanced back at the cell, which now had a door where only bars had been moments ago. I blinked, “I think you just have to want to leave.” I nodded towards the cell door.

I watched her process things, her eyes flitting around the room to the guards. “They’ll try to stop me.”

I shook my head, patting my chest. “I’ll keep them from doing that if they try, okay?”

She looked at me then, a million emotions in her eyes. Vulnerability wasn’t something I was used to seeing from Max, and it twisted something in my heart.

Something I hadn’t felt for a hundred years.

“Okay,” she whispered. “I trust you.”

On shaky legs, she shuffled towards the cell and gripped the bars. With a gentle tug, the door creaked open and her eyes bounced between the guards. None of them moved, but I moved towards her anyway. She needed to feel safe.

I offered my hand, smiling in what I hoped looked like an encouraging gesture. She took it, her pale hand gripping mine like a lifeline as she padded quickly towards the steel door to the room. It groaned as she yanked it open, and we were plunged into reality.

———

Max-

I gasped for air, my throat burning as I registered the world around me. The real one, I hoped.

Bright lights blinded me overhead, and a tube was lodged in my throat. I reached up, yanking out the wires and needles in my arm in the process, and pulled it out. I coughed, gagging for a moment before I could finally just breathe.

Steve was slumped in the chair next to me, his body twitching every few seconds. His eyes were closed, but he was breathing steady. Alive, at least.

I gathered my wits, taking a few minutes to assess my body. Steve had said I was out for two weeks, and the improvement of my condition from the last time was proof enough. I wasn’t hungry, for one. No pains in my body. I didn’t feel like my mouth was full of sand when I swallowed, which means I was hydrated for the first time in a while.

I was… fine. Alive, breathing, and whole.

Mostly.

The clicking was still there. It reverberated through my skull making me hyper aware of every move I made, metallic and haunting.

I shoved it out of my mind, as far as I could. I just needed to get out of this bed. I needed… I needed to see what they’d done to me. I needed to make sure I was really here. That this was real and not some twisted mind game again.

With heavy limbs, I swung myself to the side of the bed. If this was really the tower, Friday would’ve already notified Tony or someone to come check on me immediately. Which meant my time frame was severely limited.

I made my way into the elevator, hustling as much as my groggy body would allow, and punched my floor number. It rose, and I counted the numbers lighting on the panel as they passed. When it leveled with my floor, I waited long enough to squeeze through the opened doors and hurried to my door. I shoved it open, noting the crumpled covers and the distinct smell of leather and that familiar cologne.

I took a moment to close my eyes, to breathe him in even if he wasn’t truly here. It was a small hint that maybe… maybe it really was real. I didn’t let it sit with me long, snapping open my eyes and storming to the bathroom.

I ripped off the hospital gown and let my eyes roam over my pale skin. Scars, all new, peppered my body where none had been before. Pale shimmering skin where my regeneration had tried and failed to heal them correctly. I lifted my eyes more, noting more as I kept looking upon my image in the mirror. When I got to my neck, my heart stalled.

There, right next to the column of my throat, was the distinct insignia of Hydra. The skin wasn’t shimmery, not completely, anyways. Like part of it had healed when I was still under whatever was in that injection. Parts of it were deep pink, nearly red against the shimmery pale counterparts. But it was unmistakable even with the frankenstein healing. Hydra had marked me permanently, like property.

Rage clawed at my chest, seeped into my veins, and solidified my resolve.

I went to the nightstand, pulling out my belongings, and then reaching under the bed for my ammo box. I set them on the covers before yanking out the duffel I hid along with them, and shoved everything inside.

I made quick work with my small closet, packing the most useful, purposeful items I owned and a few I had sentimental value in, and shoved them in too. I changed into a hoodie and a pair of cargo pants, lacing my boots and pulling my hand gun from under the nightstand, shoving it into my waistband.

I didn’t really think about what I was doing. It was instinct and muscle memory alone. When it was all done, and the room looked vacant and bare of any hint of me, I paused to think.

To consider what I was about to do.

What I was about to leave.

The tower and the Avengers had been a home to me. They’d been friends and family. I’d… I’d allowed myself to put down roots for the first time and I was about to tear them out. Tony would be devastated, and so would Thor and Peter. The others, I wasn’t so sure.

I’d hurt them. I knew what I’d done would come back to haunt me every night for the rest of my life. I knew that some of them wouldn’t be able to forgive me. That Wanda would seek me out for revenge someday and she might succeed.

I couldn’t stay. It would hurt them more than I already had. They would be better off… happier, if I did what I’d always done and disappear.

So I grabbed a notebook from my shelves, scribbled down a few things and labeled them, leaving them neatly on the bed. I hesitated a moment longer before writing something for Bucky. Even if he didn’t love me, or he wasn’t alive to read it, whatever the case… he deserved closure.

The elevator pinged down the hall, and I hauled the bag over my shoulder. With one look back around my room, I locked the door and turned towards the balcony.

When I stepped out, the cool air was welcome as it nipped at my skin. The cool metal of the hand railing was a solid reminder of reality. Of this place, and what waited for me beyond.

I glanced down at the pavement below, knowing the jump would hurt like hell. I’d live though, probably be healed by the time I made it to the end of the block.

I steeled myself with a breath, and one last look out at the city.

This would be the last time I saw it for a long time. It was time for me to start my own path, to follow my own desires and make my own decisions. I was out from Hydras thumb, and I would make sure it stayed that way forever. I would never be put in a position like that ever again, and anyone who tried to take my freedom from me again… I’d tear them apart.

It was time for a new leaf, for the past to be laid to rest. I’d rend Hydra from this earth, and make a new name for myself.

Pounding started on the door, muffled voices shouting behind it, but I didn’t turn back. Instead, I hauled myself over the railing and plummeted down…

To a new beginning.

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