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evereverest2 · 4 months ago

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Little Monster Q&A + author fun facts !!

hello new followers and fans of Little Monster. first of all, i just have to thank everyone for the crazy support ive been getting as of late. thank you everyone. every like, comment, and reblog just pushes me to keep writing, even when it feels like every word i write is garbage.

so i decided to make this little special! idk if anyone will be super interested, so ill put all the stuff under the cut, but i also wanted to add this little drawing i did of terzomega as like extra content. if you arent interested, thanks anyway and enjoy the art!

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to everyone who stayed, i have no idea why you’re interested, but thanks lmfao. this shit will be long.

Questions

Is your most recent oneshot about the mirror related at all to Little Monster? (from @ofthemorningstars)

i'm glad you noticed that !! in The Mirror, i very purposefully left two hints at the end of the fic to indicate its connection to Little Monster, which was the taco ring reference and Terzo's use of "mostriciatto". to me, mostriciatto will always be the Little Monster version of terzomega. no matter when i finish that fic or if i write more fics after, i will never again use mostriciatto unless im purposefully writing these versions of terzomega. i havent seen anyone else use it (i hope they dont), so i like to imagine this can be forever my impact on terzomega fics lmao. anyway, the purpose of me leaving those references isnt necessarily to say, "this is a future scene of little monster" bc it isnt exactly that (while i have plans that line up with this oneshot, i cannot anticipate that everything will fit perfectly by the time we get there in the canon). the purpose of doing that was to show u cuties that yes, terzo and omega will eventually have a better relationship, and i will be extending this timeline into papa terzo era. just a fun little teaser for my more observant fans.

also, fun fact about how i came up with that pet name. i was writing the first part of Little Monster (that part is now titled Spilled Wine as featured on my Ao3) and i knew i wanted to give terzo an affinity for using pet names, but i didn't know quite which ones to use. i didn't want to be boring, so i googled some. i have no idea where, but i found mostriciatto, meaning, of course, "little monster." i had yet to even really start writing it, but i knew i wanted it to be DARK with a very unhinged omega, so i thought, perfect. ill talk a bit more about the writing of part one later on

2. How many parts do you currently anticipate writing? Do you have a set ending point, or will this perhaps be an ongoing project for the foreseeable future? (from @ofthemorningstars)

i have 12 major plot points (including the first five parts i have written) that loosely translate into parts. this could mean 12 parts, or it could be more depending on what i write. i kinda plan on expanding this to 18 (6 parts per “era” or “act” [you’ll see what i mean]) though i dont quite have a set ending yet, so really its up in the air. i am, however, planning on having a definitive ending, ergo not an endless project. from there there may be some oneshots in this universe, but they will have an ending.

3. In the first part of little monster you put a disclaimer with something along the lines of "if you're expecting comfort I'm sorry to disappoint". The angst is MWAH but do you like plan on giving Terzo like any sort of comfort or happiness?? (from anon)

before i begin rambling, here's your answer: there will be hope and good times as mentioned above, and you might have even picked up on that in part 5. i may have wrote a fucked up versions of terzomega but whats a good story without character growth?? i havent determined the direction of the ending, but rest assured, if it all burns down, they will hold each other close (for the minute it takes).

but also.... funny story about that disclaimer....

soo i wanted to write ghost fanfic to impress my friend who is a VERY avid member of this community. however, i failed to realize they DO NOT like angst without love and care and fluff, so after i showed it to them, buddy did not like it. i took that as a sign that maybe this shit was a little TOO dark.

but my god, i could not stop thinking about it, as the caption said, and i dont always feel that away about what i write. i had recently started to post semi often to tumblr, and i just thought. well, theres gotta be someone else as fucked up as me, and i posted that shit. that disclaimer was a result of taking my friends reaction seriously and realizing that i needed to make it VERY clear that this fic is NOT for everyone. there was a different og caption that was longer and more grave, but i cut it down for aesthetics bc little monster has already seen more success than i ever anticipated.

4. What is your favorite ghost album, and what song introduced you to ghost? (from anon) & Favorite ghost song (or songs) (from @ask-enso-ghoul)

my favorite album is Infestissumam!!! the vibes of the album are so fucking immaculate, even if terzo is my favorite papa.

of course, of course, the first song i ever heard from ghost was Mary on a Cross. it blew up when it did and i loved it. the second song that really made me start getting into ghsot was square hammer, which will secretly also be my favorite ghost song but ive heard it so many times i have to give it now to the future is a foreign land. some of my other fave songs are jigolo, respite, body and blood, faith, twenties, and year zero (there’s just so many)

i want to take a second to say my least favorite album though, which is opus eponymous, or as i call it, pope pussy. it’s ok. it’s just ok. mk. i’m not a fan of that sound. the best song on there is genesis. I FUCKING SAID IT—

5. how do you get into the zone of writing smut-? I’m trying to get into it but it sounds cheesy when I do, so do you do something specific? (from anon)

im gonna level with you. i have been writing for almost a decade, since i was 12, and the first thing i started writing was smut. sex has always been a HUGE creative force for my writing and art in general. as stupid as it sounds, writing smut to me is more than just that. its my art. its my greatest and most inspirational subject. i love being creative with it, bending it to the niches and intricacies of the duo im writing, just playing with it as a medium of expression, of storytelling, of how DEEP it can be.

that being said, one of the easiest ways to get into the zone of smut specifically is being horny ! you imagine your pairing doing some illicit bedroom activity and you pick them up liek dolls and smush their faces together ! let it be fun, and let it be yours. dont write it to please the kinks of your audience, write it to your own taste and enjoyment.

as far as it being cheesy, yeah, it will feel that way. the most important thing is to be confident with your language and don’t shy away from calling a dick a dick, a pussy a pussy, an ass an ass. it feels stupid, but it will read worse if you make up artsy names for them every other line. don’t be afraid to be descriptive either, because that’s what the people want to see, trust me.

apologies if that was unhelpful, ive just been writing smut so long i can hardly tell you how i do it. im jsut super passionate about it and it fuels me creatively….. can u tell lol

6. Favorite work you’ve ever done? (from anon)

so.... ive written many things and that depends. its definitely not anything ive posted on here.

i think my favorite "serious" work is a short story i wrote for a creative writing class, called Abel and Sally. it was an modern inversion of the bible story of abraham and sarah, with a really dark ending (i love to shit on catholicism)

the other work that comes to mind is the first story i wrote about my oc anson, called Anson's Prison. that is something i would potentially post on here, its pretty short but its a good one. its oc content, tho, so i doubt many ppl would be interested lel.

8. will you draw more drawing for your stories in the future? (from anon)

well. heres my thing with art.

ive been drawing as long as ive been writing. but im not an artist; i never learned ANYTHING beyond like drawing itself, i.e. i dont know how to shade, pick colors, do bgs, etc. (can u tell??? do u see that art up there???? can YOU TELL??) thus, i have a sort of love hate relationship with drawing, and i usually dont like my own stuff. i didnt pick up drawing as easy as i did writing and its not nearly as intuitive to me.

that being said, it is sometimes fun when the drawings turn out just right and i get super passionate about something i draw and i can create the image in my head. so if the mood strikes me, i probably will draw more terzomega stuff in the future.

but why do i need to?? feeds you all SO WELL with little monster stuff you dont need my shitty art lmfao

9. MILK OR CEREAL FIRST? (from anon)

cereal. bc the moment the milk hits that cereal u are on a speedy ass countdown to devour that shit before it gets soggy, and brother, u better eat quick.

Things I wanted to share

Little Monster was supposed to be a one shot

so, Little Monster started as one thing and turned to something else entirely. originally, i wrote the beginning of the first chapter (where they are flirting in the church) in about april of this year. in this version, they were supposed to already be in love, though hiding it, and terzo was not drunk at all, just teasing. i eventually scrapped it because i wasnt very passionate about it and got p bored. then, in july, i had the itch to write something dark, but none of my projects at the time had characters i could really write that with. i came back to that scrapped fic and i thought, damn, i could really fuck these guys up, and i did.

little monster immediately became more successful than i thought it would be, and that was only about 10 notes and a comment in. i was happy to leave it at that, but then, i just started writing part two on a whim. if you look at the og post in the comments, i mention that im writing a "follow up". thats bc even when writing part two, this was not going to be a series !! but then, as i kept writing, part two became so long i had to split it in half, meaning there were suddenly 3. by the time i posted part three, though, i was shocked at the sheer amount of attention i was getting. at the same time, part three ended in such a way that i knew this story needed to keep going, to give these two a resolution. now, little monster will be a full fledged story thanks to all the support ive received :3

2. im an english major

yeah, you got me, im a college student majoring in english creative writing. is it obvious? my penultimate goal is to one day be a published author. it’s crazy surreal to me how much people express to me how they enjoy my writing~~ i hope i can one day make my dream come true 🥰 the unfortunate part about this is i go back to college next week and im uncertain how that will affect my writing schedule :p i’ll stick to weekly uploads for little monster tho dw !!

3. this is the first time i’ve written fanfic in several years

when i first started writing it was frerard and peterick fanfics on wattpad in middle school (huge shoutout to the ones that know lmfao). i stopped writing those before hs and haven’t written fanfic since. i think it’s very funny that i have come full circle back to writing band fanfic, altho ghost ofc is way more intricate with its canon

4. I LOVE YOU GUYS

i know i’ve said it a dozen times already on this post, but god it’s crazy. it’s nuts !! i’ve already made a handful of super sweet mutuals who i appreciate with all my heart, and even if you’re just a lurker, I STILL APPRECIATE YOU. EVERY SINGLE NOTE MAKES ME SO HAPPY. EVERY COMMENT AND RB HAS ME BURSTING WITH JOY.

it is entirely thanks to you all that i write terzomega and ive become so passionate about it. if it weren’t for your support, i would probably still be writing my silly little stories that no one but me could possibly understand, rotting away and wondering if anyone would even like my writing. terzo and omega are such a unique pairing compared to what ive written before, and writing them is a really cool feeling. i truly love it, and i hope i can continue to feed this side of the fandom for a long time.

from the bottom of my heart and with all my writing soul, thank you. i want to keep writing for u guys, and i want to satiate ur dirty terzomega fantasies >:) this is such a sweet and inclusive fandom and im glad i’ve been welcomed in so quickly. i hope i can continue to grow my talent here :3

ok that’s it bye teehee

#terzomega #my art #ghost bc #ghost art #everest the thinker #worship the eversnake

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moth-related-inquiries · 11 months ago

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Hi! I read your oneshot involving Micah and fem child reader and absolutely loved it! I never thought i could see Micah ever taking on the role of a parental figure but you did such a good job tying his character into a role that i thought would never fit him! I was wondering if you could expand more on their dynamic afterwards and how reader would interpret his ‘cull the weak beliefs’ do you think teaching her these would ever come to backfire on him later especially if used against him?

Micah Bell and Fem! Child Reader Pt2: Knives Out

Warnings: incredibly angsty, Micah Bell, you're gonna hate this if u love Micah LOL, lots of murder, terrible beliefs, graphic description of murder, and child death.

tldr: Micah Bell's teachings came to bite him back in the ass. :( Nobody close to him can be happy.

A/n: Hi, Anon! Thank you for the req ♡♡♡ I'm so glad you liked my last fic! I hope you like this one, too. Feel free to send any more requests you might have :p

Listen while you read?:

Today was your third month of 'bonding,' as Micah liked to call it. You'd slowly progressed from being as terrible of a shot as Sean Macguire to being fairly good at your shots. Of course, you weren't as good as Micah, but he congratulated you on your significant progress. Unlike the others, Micah has been surprisingly patient with you. There were a lot of things he had to teach and show you, and you seemed to learn best when you were in the middle of action.

Not only had you become a better shot, but you'd also become a more malleable tool. When you finished your first robbery, Micah decided that from now on you weren't going by your old name. The Bell family had a very specific practice they used when choosing names. For the first time in a long time, he flipped open a Bible and scoured its pages for a suitable name. Eventually, he settled on Elisabeth, the technical grandmother of Jesus. Not because she was a humble or remarkable woman, but because she was stubbornly faithful. Like a dog.

He hoped that, since he'd earned your trust, you'd follow him like a dog to the ends of the earth. And that you did. No matter what he did, where he went, or who he killed, he stayed as your role model. Beyond that, he was also your new father figure. Sure, you liked Dutch and Hosea, but they never saw things from your point of view like Micah did. The Dutch, for one, insisted on the dramatics constantly. He'd make up schemes to entertain himself and some big wig bastard, then steal the money. Which probably would've entertained you if you had the patience. And Hosea, well, he didn't enjoy the 'thrill' of murdering and robbing the same way that you did. Meaning that he liked making a fool of himself and then leaving with a small sum of money.

Not to mention that Micah secretly found both of them to be fools in their own ways. You thought, at first, that he saw you as a fool too, but he assured you that you were anything but. He called you his 'kinfolk.' His kid. You found it odd. He claims to be so strong, yet he practically creates his own weakness. With this idea in mind, you began to dissect some of his flaws.

When the two of you were in camp, you noticed that he was anything but pleasant to the other members. He often harassed and berated many of the women in camp, too, which you found odd. Even odder was the fact that he berated Jack, which made you curious. Was he perhaps jealous of John and Abigail for their achievements? It seemed so. You guessed that he was jealous because he too wanted a family, no matter how dysfunctional. Though he hadn't had much luck considering that, like the stupid man he is, he took his anger out on all the women around him.

Micah Bell could never score a woman, and he knew that very well. And now, so did you. And all you had to do was watch him like you normally do. Every time you did, he'd lean over and whisper in your ear about how someday he's going to get a nice and fine wife, and these floozies are going to be sorry. You knew better. Every time he'd provide some weird back-handed compliment, you wondered if he knew it only made him look weak. He had all bark and no bite. Which, in many cases, he did. All talk until Dutch struts over, then suddenly he's acting like he's a holy deity sworn to do nothing but good.

That was one major weakness you'd noticed about him. His one big fault. Micah seemed to assume that being a snake oil salesman made him a man. A man fit for survival in the natural world. A man who could do whatever he wanted and whenever he wanted as long as he still had his silver tongue. And it did, for a little while. He could go around murdering families and sleep like a little baby the night after. That is, until he met you.

See, Micah Bell had done himself dirty when he began 'training' you. Because, unlike Micah, you shut your mouth, and you watched everyone really well. You waited for someone to come to you, and you didn't, no matter how tough it was to resist, let your guard down. Yet Micah Bell had shown his since the day he decided to mentor you. Sure, you were unaware of the impact of his actions then, but he'd taught you well. He'd gifted you a higher consciousness without even knowing it.

So, after three long months of needlessly long interaction, you put his teachings to work. You woke up bright and early to listen to the birds chirp their jovial toons. It was nice to let the weak be, just for a moment, because sometimes they end up surprising you with their entertainment. Your steel gaze turned to Micah, who was fast asleep on his bedroll, facing the cliffside. He, too, was nice when you left him be. When he did sleep, it looked peaceful. And, for a moment, you decided to let him be, too.

You grabbed your satchel, one that Micah had bought for you, and opened it. From it, you produced a jagged stone that you'd found back in Strawberry, after the pair of you (and Arthur) murdered an entire town. You originally picked it up in order to execute whoever was holding Micah's precious revolvers, but he beat you to it. And, with savagery and cowardice, he murdered another family right in front of you. It was eerily thrilling when you first experienced it, but now? Now you feel nothing but guilt. Not for the town you'd helped murder, but for Micah.

You looked down at him, staring at his greasy forehead. As you lifted your stone, you teared up as you remembered all the times that he'd slipped up. A terrible feeling sank into your chest as you thought about your first robbery. How he wiped your tears away after you'd committed your first murder and rubbed your back like the father you never had. You'd given him your weakness, and he accepted it with unknowing tenacity. From then on, you gave him your weakness, and he allowed you to piggyback off of him like a little parasite.

For such a morally corrupt man, Micah had always done his best to assure your safety, no matter what. When the two of you were low on rations, he let you have the last. When the gang was ambushed, he made sure you were never there. When the two of you were caught in a rock and a hard place, he always made you run back to camp while he distracted the bastards following you. It's your fault that he turned into something he never wanted to be.

It's your fault that he became so weak.

Your brows furrowed, and your face twisted into anguish. You lifted the stone up above your head and, with all your might, sent it crashing down upon his skull. It made a sickening crunch, like a pumpkin being dropped, but Micah did not move. You repeated the action over and over again until his head finally caved in. Once you were done, you walked over to your horse, one that he had gifted you, and shot her, too. Baylock was smart enough to run off.

From then on, you decided that, out of the four of you, Baylock would be the strongest. He was the survivor because he ran like hell instead of sticking around to die. Finally, you walked back to the cliffside and erased the last remaining proof of Elisabeth Bell's entire existence.

A/N: i hope people like this :p i know child death is a very sensitive topic, but I think that this is how it would go in the eyes of a child. I tried to make it a little confusing so that we could really understand how uniquely this kind of situation would affect someone as vulnerable as a child versus an adult.

#red dead redemption 2 #micah bell #micah bell x reader #child reader #angst #angstycowboy #rdr2

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obsequence · 2 years ago

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hi i hope this isn't weird askdjfksdksl, you seem to be much more active on twitter but i REFUSE to make an account on that website BUT a mutual of mine just said something to me about the idea of an au where the rattlers run like. an apocalypse gladiator ring instead and ellie eventually gets caught and stuck there with abby and this is just actually insane we can't believe no one else seems to have had this idea yet??????? my first thought was tell the only ellabs person i know of who is in any way active on social media idk you can tell twitter about this or whatever i just think you need to know. i think ellabs nation (ellabs village really lol) needs to consider the possibilities

1) come to twitter i promise it’s like not that bad i just get into fights a lot 😭

2) i have a new tumblr but it’s under a pseudonym because i’m literally writing x readers and i know people will clown me and think i’m doing it in the “y/n” way (nothing wrong with that) and not the “x readers are a great way to character study without making whole ocs and you’re able to share them with a large audience” way

3) honestly , i really hate fics that have like . anything to do with the rattlers . because they’re just , like , EXTREMELY miserable (hypocritical coming from me , i know) and i deserve a speck of dopamine every now and then . but i will spread the idea ! because tbh it’s pretty good and not done before . just not my thing

4) i’m going to take this as an opportunity to explain why the fuck tl2 isn’t out yet , but it’s going to be a very longwinded self-psychoanalytical bananza , sooo . .

so , tl2 isn’t going to be a multichapter , if it ever gets put out . it’s gonna be a really long oneshot , because if i post it , i want it to be FINISHED so i don’t leave anyone waiting again .

the reason why i have a mental block against writing it right now is because i’m really unhappy about where tl1 left off . i never really liked it honestly , i just felt a bit pressured to get it out asap so i could be done . i reread the first few chapters all the time , and i really consider that its peak , because it started to feel like a chore after chapter six .

it’s hard to write the sequel to something you don’t like . it feels like you can only disappoint (if not others , yourself) and expand on its horribleness , which sounds so melancholy , i know , lol , but it’s the truth . like , how do you fix what’s broken on something you can’t touch ? by adding more that’s broken ? nuh uh . it’s a lot of stress .

also , i just . . need a creative recharge . “spencer , it’s been like five months since you finished tl !!” no i mean like . a year . before i even poke it with a ten foor pole again . LOL it’s that bad . this might change , but that’s how i feel right now .

i’ve been really insecure about my work lately , and i’ve never been able to read original novels or other fics without feeling incredibly envious of others’ talent , and it has sowed a lot of discontent inside of me . so i stopped consuming others’ work for a bit , but that just left me uninspired and in an echo chamber of my own writing without any improvement , so it became hyper-stylized and odd to read , especially months later . i don’t even know what i was trying to accomplish at some points ?? it’s all very odd and tryhard and makes me cringe .

so , right now , my goal is to read more published work lol . i’m reading my childhood favorite “daughter of smoke and bone” right now , and it’s even better than i remember . highly recommend

but yeahhh that’s why tl2 isn’t out sorry 🌸🩷🩷💕🥺🥺🥺

(but like fr i am incredibly sorry)

#asks #my writing #ellabs

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realsorcerershit · 2 years ago

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OK OC QUESTIONS HERE: 6, 10, 13, 29, 38, 57, 61, 68

OH I'M ESPECIALLY EXCITED ABOUT A FEW OF THESE. Under a read more as always just because I don't wanna clog people's dashes but here we go, these are probably gonna be a lil sloppy but-

6) How have they changed in the last year? How about the last five years?

The biggest growth Lumen has had, I think, shines in the past year especially, and is that he's far more willing to stand up for himself than he was before. Slowly but surely, he's becoming more determined and more comfortable in his own skin. He's also slowly becoming convinced of just how capable he really is, at, well. Everything.

I guess that's the two biggest things. Able to stand up for himself, and believes he's far more capable of a person than he used to.

10) What inspired this character's creation?

Okay, there's actually a really long fucking story with this one, and I'm kind of excited to share it? Originally, at most Lumen was merely a concept I created because a group of friends were running a DnD Christmas oneshot, and I wanted to try playing a new class. The idea of a wild magic sorcerer kind of jumped out at me, so I decided on that and started building. Granted, it was a for fun oneshot, so I didn't do much with it at the time. A while later, I wanted to reuse him in a campaign (that ultimately got cut short), so I worked with that last campaign to incorporate all of that into his current backstory and everything in the campaign that he is now!

Tl;dr: He was originally a oneshot test character that I expanded on until he got to a point where I grew overly attached to him.

13) What are some motifs you associate with them? Did you intentionally bring in those motifs, or did it happen over time?

Two major motifs. Fate, and apparently ice magic.

The fate motif kind of worked out on its own, and wasn't really super intentional or anything. It was kind of just there, because of the Wild Magic Sorcerer feature of Bend Luck. Always tried to play it that he has a slight hand in other people's fates, but not his own. (Try to avoid using it on my own rolls, really.)

As for the ice magic, that one kind of came up after he got a Staff of Frost and. That one was a total accident that came up over time. Apparently the boy just likes using ice. I didn't even think about it.

29) What feelings do they internalize?

Bouncing off my answer in #6 there, there's still some internalized inadequacy, for lack of a better term. Just that feeling that. Maybe, just maybe, he might be unable to handle all of this. He's working on it, though.

Also there's a very moderate fear that everyone he knows is just gonna die and he'll be all alone yet again. Oh, and his horrifying fear of being watched/known by the Cult that the party is up against.

38) Do they see themselves as an important part of their party?

God this is kind of a hard one to answer. In a *way*, yes, he does. He knows his merits and his use, and also knows how much people like having him around. But, that being said, he still thinks "I sure hope they like having me around" consistently enough. What can I say, he's still got some insecurity eating away at him, really.

57) Do they see value in the laws of where they live?

Kind Of? The laws are there, for sure, but. He's never really thought about or considered them. As long as people aren't ruthlessly killing people or dragging others down for the sake of dragging them down, everything's fine. The laws at most kind of ensure people don't do those things.

61) Is there an in-game moment of theirs you think about and just laugh?

Oh absolutely. There was the time Lumen and Sigurd both set up this ridiculously elaborate glitter bomb trap that was rigged to go off inside of the room those two were staying in because Lumen had a way to bait Lucien into walking through the wall into their room. It was ridiculous.

68) Where's their home?

We have a custom map and world and everything, so - lil context. In a Country named Falias, near the edge of the road before you reach a bit of an empty space between there and Averon. Lumen lives in a small little cozy town named Dushill, particularly, in a church dedicated to Torm within that town.

#oc ask meme #oc stuff #Lumen #ask answer

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fairykimseok · 4 years ago

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Drowsy nights and the white wolf

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Original Character (Kaitlyn)

Summary: Being an avenger is one thing, being an Avenger with Bucky Barnes is another. A little story of how Kaitlyn met Bucky

Gender: would say fluff with a little action, oneshot

Warnings: a mention of blood

This is written with the intention of being Bucky x reader but I just had to name the character. Time wise it is set along the events of TFATWS

Disclaimer: Marvel owns Avengers, The Falcon and The Winter Soldier and all its characters

Before I tell you my story maybe I need to introduce myself. My name is Kaitlyn, I am short of special as my mom liked to say and…I might be an Avenger.

All started in the battle of New York, I was in one of the buildings Loki had taken over, with my mom and a few other people. I don’t really remember what happened, I only know Loki had touched me with his Scepter. I woke up the following day at the hospital, the building we were in had collapsed killing everyone but me. I was 16 back then and that was when I first met Natasha. She was the one who had pulled me out of that building and she kept visiting me in the hospital, she sort of became my family when everyone was gone. Short after when my powers started showing up, powers that were the legacy of Loki and the infinity stone, our sessions started. She would train me in hand in hand combat and I would try to master my powers.

She wanted me to go to the avengers’ compound and I had visited a few times, I had a room next to Wanda whom I had met on a few occasions. But that was when the Civil War between the Avengers started, and Nat went hiding. We would still meet sometimes with Cap and occasionally Sam.

And then the snap happened, and I blipped and when I came back, she was gone. My only family was gone. I called Sam as soon as I found out. He told me I could still join the team just as Nat wanted, that they had a new building as the old one was destroyed.

And that is where I am right now, in the new Avengers compound with whom is left here. Mostly me, Rodney, and Banner. Sam comes and goes, Dr. Strange, Clint, and Scot has stopped by sometimes and they frequently video call with others that are far away.

It is sort of lonely here, but I try to focus on my training. It is not easy being the only one with my kind of powers. Dr. Strange has helped me some with that and Banner had run some tests on me to see how they could progress. I get my “military” training with Rodney and when Clint is here, I get the “spy” training.

Oh right, my powers. Well you could say I have a thing with ice. Provided that there is water around I can create ice in whatever form I want and use it accordingly. I am still very sloppy and most of the time it is only a thin layer, but I am getting better.

It was a typical day, I woke up, got breakfast in the shared kitchen, visited Banner in his lab and went to the gym for my training. One of the first things Nat had told me was that I need to be agile, to be able to move fast even in the most difficult situations, so my morning routine had a variety of ballet, yoga or pilates.

“Looking good”, I heard someone at the door. As I turned, I realized it was no other than Sam.

“Hey Sam, what’s up? It’s been a while”, I said, going to my bug to drink some water.

“Thought I would stop by to see how you all here are and also to drop a friend who I think would help you a lot with your training”, he said.

As on cue Rodney entered the room with one more man, he looked around the room before his eyes landed on me. I knew who he was of course, who doesn’t.

“Bucky this is Kaitlyn, Kaitlyn this is Bucky. Don’t worry he is not dangerous just very old”, Sam joked which led to him getting a punch in the arm.

“Nice to me you”, Bucky said with a slight nod of his head.

“Nice to meet you too”, I managed to say in a stake of a mild shock. No, I wasn’t scared of him, I never had been. Cap had told me enough of his stories with bucky back in their days to know that this man is not dangerous even if he had been brainwashed most of his life.

“Bucky can help you with close up combat. If you are going to learn, better learn from the best.”, Sam offered. “We gonna let you at it and come back later with Rods. You gonna be ok old man?”, he asked before leaving, closing the door behind them.

Bucky only eye rolled as he properly entered the room. He unzipped his jacket leaving it at the bench, his vibranium arm echoing in the empty room. “Alright, let’s see what you got. Try to hit me” he said positioning himself in the middle of the room.

“Hit you?”, I asked confused, approaching him.

“Kick me, punch me, hit me. Whatever”, he shrugged.

Whatever, I thought. How? How do you hit the winter soldier? I took a few more steps, going closer all while I was thinking which could be the best approach, how could I attack him. At first, I just tried to punch as naïve as it looked. Of course, he just stopped my hand midair with his. I tried more complex moves, some of those Nat used to do, wrapping my legs around his neck and trying to elbow him on the head, I found myself pinned to the nearest wall his metal arm in my neck. His grip tight. He got flustered for a moment and for a moment there I really saw the assassin he used to be. He loosened his grip and let me down, mumbling an apology.

“How old are you again?”, I asked out of breath.

“Physical or mental age? Actual or birth wise? Kinda difficult question to ask”, he said with a faint of smile but maybe it was my imagination because it lasted for too short.

“Current?”, I offered.

“Something around the early 30s. Or 106, who counts?” he shrugged. “Again”

We went on and on, each time finding me in a helpless situation. I was pretty sure Ι was covered with bruises in every place possible.

I don’t even know how many times we had done the same thing when I got the idea that hey, I got powers. I let him tackle me into a headlock and when he was about to loosen his hold, I touched the metal arm, ice spreading all over it. I took the mere seconds it took him to realize what was going on as a chance to elbow him in the ribs and punch his jaw. He took a step back and smiled not even fazed by my hits.

“Good, but next time count on your strength and not your powers yet”, he said.

“Do you even feel anything?”, I asked defeated, nothing seemed to hurt him.

“It takes a lot more to make me feel anything”, he grinned. “And ice is not one of them”

“I left you here to learn from him and you go and freeze my man?”, Sam exclaimed entering in the room.

“I am fine”, Bucky said waving his metal arm twice before the ice broke and fell on the floor.

“Once a popsicle always a popsicle,” Sam joked earning a death stare from the older man. “How did it go?”, he asked looking at me

“No broken bones, so I guess good”, I shrugged.

“We have a long way ahead of us”, Bucky said getting dressed. “I am out”, he nodded before disappearing.

“So how was it really?”, Sam asked again, examining me.

“I think I barely touched him. My whole body is sore, and my pride is wounded.”

Sam laughed. “That’s why I brought him here to you. The people we are going up against out there are not easy, they will try to kill you without a second thought. You can always use your powers, but you told Nat you wanted to be like her. If you still up for the close combat, he will be here from now on. You may train with him whenever you want. If not, you are still free to stay here and train on your powers.”

I looked at him with realization. Maybe I wasn’t trying hard enough. I was feeling so lost without her. “No, I want to try”, I promised with determination.

“Good. Now go, get ready we will all get dinner together before I leave”, Sam left too, and I was left alone in the room.

I sighed heavily, trying to get up I felt the pain running through my body. I was going to be so sore tomorrow.

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

Days were passing by and I hadn’t seen him anywhere which on one hand was good because I don’t think I had improved since our first encounter and on the other it made me wonder where the heck he might be? It is not like the compound is huge for me to lose him. I reasoned that he could be on a mission with Sam and that is why I hadn’t seen him, after all Rodney wasn’t here either.

Apart from the hours of training I did through the day, I had started running some laps in the late hours. It is when the humidity in the air is the highest here, so it makes me feel more at ease with my powers. I was running again today, just a few laps around the compound, when I stopped at a clean spot.

I breathed in the humid air allowing my body to absorb as much water as it could from the atmosphere. I tried to catch my breath as I heard a bike running down the entrance of the compound towards the building. For a moment, I was perplexed as who it could be before I realized it was him, returning from somewhere. He headed to the garage. I didn’t even know he had a bike, but I decided to return at my task no point on focusing on him.

I closed my eyes again, opened my arms in an L shape and tried to focus, focus on my surroundings, on the water in the air. I took a deep breath as I tried to expand the cold emanating from me. I tried to crystalize as many water particles as I could around me, turning the humid air into a frozen one.

And I tried to expand it as much as I could. That’s when I felt it, the other presence close to me, in between all the cold a warmer figure. I turned at once defensively, ice-like awls flying towards the direction of the intruder only to stop a few centimeters away.

“I am sorry”, I said as I made them disappear. “I didn’t know it was you”, my body relaxing a bit.

He stared at me unfazed, as if he wasn’t even scared, I had almost pierced him throughout his body. He stared at me dead in the eyes and I couldn’t really understand what his look meant. It was like he was studying me. “It’s late, you should better go in,” he said before turning and heading back to the building.

“How long have you been standing here?”, I yelled at his retreating figure.

“Enough,” he yelled back without even turning.

I followed him with my eyes until he disappeared behind the doors. I took another deep breath as I headed back myself. There was something about this man, so mysterious, so distant yet I felt being drawn to him.

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

Wednesdays are usually gun days, I would do the training with Clint, trying different guns and basically learning how about anything could be a weapon if you use it correctly. Hell, one day Clint decided I had to try the bow, but it went terribly. In my defense my eyesight sucks so how was I supposed to do well?

Clint hadn’t been here for a while, so I went to the training room alone, picked a gun, set the target, wore the protective gear, and started shooting. Surprisingly I wasn’t that bad at shooting, I give myself credit, even though I still lack on technique and consistency.

I was halfway through when I felt eyes on me again. I turned to face the room and sure enough I saw him leaning on the door frame. “Not bad,” he commented as I removed the protective headphones.

“Thanks”, I said feeling self-aware, I don’t know why I was getting so nervous around him.

“Need to relax your shoulders a bit” he continued as he walked to pick a gun and went to a nearby booth. “You are going to dislocate it otherwise”.

I nodded as I watched him go, he didn’t miss one, switching between hands and meters away from the target. I was impressed but don’t tell him.

“So, guns are your thing”, I said as he stopped.

“I wouldn’t say I have a thing, just too many years of experience, but if I had a thing, I guess it would be knives”, he said thoughtfully.

“Show me”, I challenged without even thinking.

He gave me a funny look as he picked one, moved back to the booth and while still looking at me threw the knife head on to the target. He didn’t even blink.

He shrugged and I think I saw a hint of smugness there. “Practice makes perfect”, he said as he turned to leave the room. “Keep on practicing”.

“Good to see you too”, I mumbled to the empty room. Cause it was good to see him, wasn’t it? I did want to see him. I had found myself almost searching for him in the days that he was nowhere to be found. I had seen photos of him in the news and back in those years he did seem dangerous but now, with the haircut and his general stance he seemed more like the Bucky Cap was describing in his stories albeit still very distant. Would I entertain myself with the thought that he was hot? I mean, the beard, the toned muscles, the mystery, the eyes, oh those eyes. Nah, I shouldn’t think of that.

“Focus”, I murmured to myself as I started shooting again.

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

I was back in the gym where we first met, doing my flexibility exercises as he entered the room. He walked straight to me, his eyes never leaving mine. I got up from the floor I was sitting. I was so drawn to him; I couldn’t take my eyes of him. We were too close now, bodies almost touching. He looked down on me and I felt my body shiver. He brought his hand to my cheek and caress it, and I melted to the touch. I raised mine to touch his hand as I followed the muscles all the away till his shoulder and then his face. He used his metal arm to guide me closer to him by my waist. And then he started leaning, our breaths coming as one, lips almost touching…

I woke up with a start, my heart racing a like an f1 car in Q3. I was sweating. “It was just a dream”, I said as I tried to catch my breath. “A very vivid one”.

I looked at the clock on the night stand it was still 3 in the morning, but my glass was empty. I got up, sighing, intending to go get some water from the kitchen. As I left my room, I heard some soft, almost incoherent, music coming from the end of the corridor. I walked towards it, recognized the tune as something from the 30s or 40s maybe, I turned at the end of the corridor and there was faint light coming from a crick of the door of the room in the right.

I wondered who could be up this late at night and I picked in the room. It was luminated by a small lamp on the desk. A pickup next to it and a few records stacked in the bookshelf behind. He then moved into my line of vision. Drink at hand, shirtless, only his bottom pajamas on. I gulped at the sight of his bare torso, not a good combination with the dream I just had. I noticed the scars on his body and those where the metal was fusing with his torso.

He was sipping his drink, occasionally humming to the tune. This must have been the most human I had ever seen him and then it hit me that this is a very private moment for someone like him, with the kind of life he had, and I was intruding. I turned to go to the kitchen as I originally intended, unbeknownst to me at the time that he had noticed my presence.

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

“Your favoritism is showing”, Sam commented as he followed Bucky’s look.

It was one of those days that we had visitors in the compound. I was just outside the building on the front yard, with Hope and in the middle of the very tiring martial arts session.

Bucky was leaning of the living room windows that had just the perfect view of the front where me and Hope were.

“I don’t get what you mean,” Bucky said to Sam, his eyes still on us.

Sam laughed. “Come on don’t play dumb. It is not so subtle when you mention her while on missions neither how you look at her when she doesn’t.”

“How do I look at her?”, Bucky asked finally turning to look at Sam.

“Well, intently the least. There is some longing, some what if in there”, Sam explained.

“You know it’s true,” Rodney added coming into the room.

“Where the hell did you come from?” Bucky exclaimed finally leaving his spot from the window and sitting on the couch. Anyone could see he was started to get annoyed.

“You know if Steve was here, he would tell you to go for it”, Sam pointed.

Bucky glared at him before hissing “I hate you both”.

Sam laughed loudly.

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

I had just finished my session with Hope when Sam approached us.

“How you doing ladies?” he chirped.

“Good”, Hope beamed, “It went pretty good”.

“That’s always great to hear”, Sam approved and they both smiled at me making me blush.

“I am gonna head back in”, Hope said, “Is Scot here yet?”

“Yeah he just came with Cassie. You all gonna stay here for lunch?” he wondered.

“Sure thing”, she nodded before heading in.

“So how is it going with you? How it’s going with my boy Bucky?” Sam asked shifting his attention back to me.

“Uuhm, good, I guess. We haven’t talked much but he has offered a few advices here and there which helped me for sure. I was pretty sure he hated me at the beginning”, I laughed.

“I am telling you he hates everyone, but I think it might be far from true in your case”, Sam winked. “But anyway, keep up the good work and who knows you might come with us in a mission soon.”

I looked at him perplexed but didn’t comment on it.

Later during lunch, I tried to pay more attention to Bucky and it did seem that he wasn’t so comfortable in a room full of people but I did notice that there were times he was looking at me for no reason.

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

True to his words, Sam did invite me to a mission about a month after he said so. They were happy with my progress which gave me the confidence I needed to try more. There were still a lot I needed to learn, and they thought that if I was part of a simple mission it would also give me the experience of handling difficult situations.

I had a fitting with Banner who provided me with a suit, he had coordinated with Shuri for this. It was a black one with blue details, small lines in the shoulders, abdomen, and wrists. My palms and fingers were free so that I would be able to use my powers easily and of course it had parts of vibranium protecting the vital organs of my torso. The part I liked the most was the neck as there was extra fabric which I could use to cover my face up till my nose. I braided my hair in a French style, took the gun and in ear com that Sam had left for me and I was ready to go.

“Nervous?”, I heard Bucky asking me as he joined me at the front yard. We were waiting for Sam to come with the Quinjet and get us. He was also dressed in his suit, with an one-sleeved jacket, leaving his metal arm exposed.

“More than I would like to admit”, I replied.

“It will be fine, we got you”, he assured me.

Up in the Quinjet, I spend most of my time in awe with how it was. I had never been into one and I was marveled.

“So, the mission is to get to the convoy and get the asset out. The asset is a scientist. We plan on ambushing them based on the route they are supposed to follow. I will stop them, and we attack. Bucky and I will take care of the guards and all you need to do is take the guy and go away of the rest of us”, Sam started explaining the plan, showing a map on the screen. “If everything goes according to plan, we will be there way earlier to map the area. Clear?”

“Hmm, how are we going to go there? I wouldn’t assume there is a place to land there”, I pondered.

“Parachutes”, Sam simply offered, studying the map. “We plan on landing around here. And as soon as we get the asset, we have this place here as an exit point. Just a few km away.”

“For us, he would be flying”, Bucky accused him.

“Not wanting to be that person, but I have never used a parachute”, my stress levels were increasing by the second. Not only I was in charge of another person making it out alive, but I had to jump of a plane, not to mention my fear of heights. Maybe this was a bad idea.

“Don’t worry we will jump together”, Bucky offered which unknowingly to me earned a playful wiggle of eyebrows and a look of approval from Sam. Bucky on the other hand only glared at him.

When it was almost time for us to jump, we started getting ready. Sam left first, flying to the place to make sure we didn’t have any company. It was the first time I had seen him with Cap’s shield, and it was not as weird as I expected it to be.

“You ready?” I heard him ask.

“As ready as I can be”, I smiled nervously.

“Look it is your first time and it is reasonable to be nervous. But it won’t help you down there. You are ready just believe in yourself. We will be there, and we won’t let anything to happen to you. Ok?” he comforted me giving me a pat on the back. And there was something there in his eyes, a bit of worry, of determination, I couldn’t really tell but I believed him.

“Ok”, I said with confidence. “So how do we jump?”

“Well, since you have no experience, we will do this together. Here tie this in your belt and around your waist and clip it to my belt”, he proceeded with wearing the parachute and fixing the ties and held as together. This was the closest we had been since the first day that we trained together. I had made the mistake of looking up at him as he checked the equipment. We don’t have that much of height difference which has as a result my eyes to be at the same level with his lips. Which was a great distraction for my nervousness. “You can put your hand here to be steadier”, he said as he guided my hand to get in between the ties of the parachute at the front of his chest. “And the other should probably go behind my back”, he suggested.

“Ok”, I said as I did what he proposed. I did feel steady like this, but it was super close. I could smell his cologne from this distance.

He took a step behind and an agent opened the airplane door for us. “Want to count to 3?”, he asked, wrapping his hand around my waist holding me closed.

I did make the mistake to look at him in the eyes which created a new kind of tension, but I nodded. “One..Two….AAAAAAhh”, I screamed as the jerk jumped of the plane without a notice. I hid my face in the crook of his neck as we were falling, letting him take care of the rest. The one instruction they had given me was to stay as still as I could so that he could guide as without problems.

And somehow miraculously I felt my feet touching the ground and him starting to untie as from the parachute. “See we made it”, he remarked with a rare smile.

I let a loud breath. “I can’t believe we did. Now what?”

“Sam you copy? We are moving to the meet up point”, he talked to his in-ear com as he gestured me to follow.

“Copy”, I heard Sam replying.

We walked carefully to the place we were supposed to ambush them. Sam informed us that he could see the convoy coming. The asset being in the 3rd of the 4 cars.

We had positioned ourselves as we saw the cars turning towards our direction. As they were passing by us, Sam shoot the first one causing a collision and the rest came to a stop. “Go go go”, I heard him over the radio.

Sam was already flying towards our direction eliminating as many guards as he could. A lot more people than I expected came out of the vehicles. I saw Bucky running easily taking out the first 3-4 guards that came out of the last car as stealthy as possible. Sam threw him the shield and with a jump Bucky swiftly caught it and landed on top of the Jeep that was supposed to have the asset, starting to shoot.

I run behind him going to the other side of the car where I could see an man trying to hide. With the guards of the car gone I was able to take him “Follow me”, I shouted taking him by the shoulder and leading him to the forest in the direction of the exit point.

But as I turned to go that way, I saw another vehicle coming to us, probably a backup. They were driving fast directly at us. “We got company!”, I yelled in the com getting the others attention. I tried to shoot at the driver, but the windshield was bullet proof.

Sam flew past by and shoot at the tyres. Even though the van crashed to the side a bunch of guards came out and started shooting at us. “Kaitlyn, go!” Bucky yelled moving past me.

I took the asset and started running in the forest unfortunately though a few guards saw us and started following. The first bullet flew right past me and I stopped abruptly. “Get behind me”, I demanded as I tried to shield him. I created an ice shield as thick as I could to shield us both. The guards kept shooting as I tried to take steps backwards. I drew my gun and tried to shoot back getting one of them on the leg. My shield had started thinning as bullets kept coming to our direction. One passed through and I felt like it hit me, but I didn’t have the time to think of this.

I looked up on the trees to see how heavy they were with snow and I got an idea. I lifted my hand and closed my fist as the snow fell heavy on the guard. I lowered my shield to see if the danger had passed and thankfully there was no one else. Sam flew next to me and Bucky came behind running. “We are clear”, Sam confirmed. I looked back at the man hiding behind me, he wasn’t hurt which was the point so that meant I had done a good job.

We took him to the exit point where the Quinjet was waiting. I sat down at a sit to catch my breath. I had never used my powers for so long and I felt drained now the adrenaline levels were falling.

“You are bleeding”, Bucky exclaimed as he run towards me, kneeling in front of me and taking my arm in his. There was a hole in my suit, and there was a scratch on my upper arm I hadn’t even notice. There was some blood there, but it had mostly dried. “How did this happen?” he asked.

“Hmm, I am not sure I didn’t really feel it, but I think there was a bullet that passed the shield I had made”, I flinched into the touch.

“We need to clean this”, he answered with worry as he went to take the medical kit. He kneeled again and cleaned my wound, patching it.

“Thank you”, I whispered as he sat next to me. I took in his state, eyes closed, sweat dripping from his temple. There was something raw in him like this yet so beautiful.

“Good work Kaitlyn”, Sam patted me in the back. “We are proud of you”.

“Thanks Sam”, I smiled.

We left the asset to a safe place where some agency they didn’t care to tell me, would take him and put him into some kind of protection. We flew back to the compound.

“Are you staying?” I asked Sam.

“No, I got something to do. See you guys in a few days”, he waved before flying away.

I turned to look at Bucky “Come, let’s get in”, he responded.

I followed him in, each going to our respective rooms. I took a bath washing away the blood and tiredness. It was long into the am hours and I couldn’t get myself to sleep after all this. I headed back to the living room, gazing out at the night sky. A few stars visible.

“Here, I made you this”, Bucky said, and I jumped in shock.

“I didn’t hear you coming”, I faltered taking the mug he offered. It had some hot tea.

Bucky grinned. “It’s linden and chamomile. Will help soothing your nerves”.

“Thank you”, I smiled bringing the mug to my lips.

We stayed silently for a few moments, sipping our drinks, and looking out as night shifted.

“I am sorry I didn’t protect you”, he started.

I turned to look at him “Bucky, I- there is no need to be sorry. I…I didn’t expect you to. You had to fight so many people and protect yourself. I was just clumsy, and you were there the whole time. Hell, we jumped of a plane and walked out alive,” I laughed to show him that I was just fine.

“Still I told you that I wouldn’t let you get hurt and you did”, he countered meeting my eyes. There was dare I say hurt in there.

I took a step closer, taking his hand to mine, which took him by surprise, his eye fixating there for a moment. “Don’t worry, I am really fine. I am glad we are all ok”, I said squeezing his hand lightly.

He cleared his throat as he removed his hand. “It’s time for some sleep. Good night”, he said.

“Goodnight Bucky,” I responded as he turned to leave, and turned my attention back outside.

“Kaitlyn?”

“Yeah?”

“You can call me Buck”, he encouraged and with a small smile he left.

I was left standing there with my mouth open, not knowing what to do. Ι bit my lips not knowing how to handle the new emotion of excitement I was feeling for no apparent reason. I went to my room and slept a peaceful sleep.

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

There had been a month since our mission, I was still training daily, each day feeling more confident with my skills and powers.

Sam and Bucky were in another mission for almost a month now, we didn’t really have news of them. Last time we had checked they were in Prague. Ι was worried, I didn’t want to admit it to anyone else but I was listening to the news everyday wondering if they would be mentioned.

“Hey Bruce”, I greeted as I entered the lab. “How is it going?”

“Hey kiddo”, he greeted back, leaving whatever weird thing he was working on.

I walked around the lab indifferently, “Any news from the guys in the field?”

“I spoke with Sam yesterday, they somehow ended in Madripoor. I personally haven’t been there, but I hear it is an interesting place. They met Sharon in the way”.

“Who is Sharon?”, I perked up.

“Oh, you probably haven’t met her. I only met her once briefly a few years ago. She was a friend of Steve’s and an old agent of Shield”, he explained.

“I see”, I said thoughtful, for some reason the idea of a woman travelling with them in troublesome situations didn’t make me feel very at ease. I mean if she was a friend of Steve’s, was she also a friend of Bucky’s?

I tried to shake away any unwelcome thoughts that came to my mind.

“Thank you, Bruce. Want to try the new blasters?”, I asked trying to channel my energy to something else.

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

It was a Saturday evening; it was raining, and it was relatively cold. I was in my room, listening to some music and absentmindedly looking out the window. My tea still warm in the mug.

I heard a knock on the door that shook me out of my trance. “Yes”.

“Hey”, I barely saw a head behind the semi closed door. “May I come in?”

“Please, come”, I smiled to the familiar face. “When did you return?”

He got in closing the door behind him. “Half an hour ago probably. I just wanted to check up on you”, Bucky said scratching the back of his neck.

“I am good”, I offered going closer, my eyes try to take all his features. “Is this a bruise? Were you hurt?” I tried to reach with my hand right below his eye where I could see some shades of purple and yellow, but he stopped me midair.

“Yeah but it is nothing. Don’t worry. I ‘ve been worse”, he gently lowered my hand not completely leaving it though as our fingertips were still touching.

“That doesn’t really make me feel better about it. Neither should you. You shouldn’t get hurt”, I shook my head in disagreement.

He snorted. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry”, he smiled and for moment I think – I THINK – my legs turned to jelly. A bit my bottom lip and his eyes darted there directly.

I opened my mouth to say something, but words weren’t really there.

“It’s late”, he said. “I ‘ll see you tomorrow”. He opened the door and left with a last smile.

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

A few days had passed, we had shared some training sessions. I had run into him in the kitchen a few times in the morning where I would go to make breakfast and he would usually drink coffee with Rodney before they both left for a meeting they did with the rest of the team that was spread around the world.

Sam stopped by occasionally and they could train together or go on a mission together. I was worried why they hadn’t asked me to go with them again. I had been to a few simple ones with Rodney but never again with Bucky and Sam.

That day, it was late at night and I had just come back from my evening run. I took a shower and after drying up I endeavored to the kitchen to find something to munch on. He was sitting at the living room, the only light coming from the full moon outside. Soft music was playing and he appeared to be playing with a knife. He was throwing it in the air and catching it again and again.

At first, I thought whether I should approach him or not, maybe he needed some alone time. I went to the kitchen and got some almonds and water. I thought that maybe he would hear the noise and either come or leave if he wanted to be alone. When I was done eating, I gave a look to the living room to see if he was still there.

Naturally my eyes went straight to the couch that I had left him but found nothing. Only then I noticed that he had moved to the windows and he was looking at me. I jumped “You scared me”, I muttered.

“What are you doing up at 3 in the morning?” he asked.

“Right back at you? I was just about to go to sleep”, I retorted getting away from the shadows of the kitchen and closer to the windows. The moon light was accentuating his features. He had a week-old beard and was wearing a simple black t-shirt and pj pants.

“Tried the sleep, didn’t work. Came here to relax”, he explained while still looking at me intently.

“Do you want me to make you something? A tea? Some milk?” I offered.

He moved from the windows and met me halfway. “No, I am fine”, he murmured. He brushed a few stray hairs with his hand and put them behind my ear. His eyes never leaving mine. “Didn’t really tell me why you were still up”.

“I – I came back from running and wanted to eat something before I go to sleep”, I could feel his breath merging with mine, and I was feeling so lost.

He brought his metal arm to my waist and with his other arm he caressed my cheek. Ι couldn’t but lean into the touch, momentarily closing my eyes.

He started leaning towards me when a noise came from down the corridor. Someone had opened their door and was making their way to us. He immediately broke contact, gave me one last look, and left. “Sup Banner?” heard him saying somewhere away from my line of vision. I was just left there, frozen, not knowing what to do and utterly confused.

“What are you doing in the dark kid?”, Bruce asked, and I almost jumped.

“Ah you know, night cravings. Going to sleep. Goodnight Bruce”, I faked a yawn and practically run to my room.

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

The next day I intentionally went for breakfast later than usually. I wasn’t sure I wanted to see him yet neither did I know what to do if we met.

Of course, with the good luck I always have, I almost fell on him as I turned to enter the kitchen. He caught me as to not fall murmured an apology and left which as I saw from the kitchen, he rode his bike and left the compound whatsoever.

I spend the whole day in the training room unleashing all my nerves using my powers. At some point Bruce had to come to tell me to stop because the temperature in the compound had decreased by 10 degrees and apart from the room I was using, crystals had form in two rooms radius.

I apologized and we spend the rest of the afternoon trying to unfreeze the rooms and increase the temperature. Thankfully the compound has top notch systems.

I ate a quick dinner right after and locked myself in my room.

I was laying in my bed, cocooning with my blankets, watching a movie when I heard a knock on my door. I looked at the clock, it was almost midnight. “Who is it?”, I questioned.

“Bucky”, he cleaned his throat, the nervousness in his voice evident.

For a moment I pondered if I should really go and open or not but my curiosity and well the eagerness got the best of me. I got up and unlocked the door, opening it enough to see him. “Can I come in?”, he wondered, anxiously giving looks to the rest of the rooms in case anyone showed up. I just moved aside for him to get in without saying anything, wasn’t sure what to say either.

I moved to go and sit back on my bed and he followed but hesitated to sit, he only did when I gestured him to. He cleaned his throat again. “This isn’t easy for me”, he started and I then felt bad, because I was giving him the silent treatment but I was failing to understand that for a person like him, that had been through so many horrible things it surely wasn’t something easy. I relaxed a bit and gave him a reassuring look as to proceed.

He fidgeted a little more before he tried again. “Firstly, I need to apologize for how I left yesterday, I just panicked. You know it is funny because Steve had told me that I had my way with the ladies back in our time but all this”, he gestured between us, “is fairly new to the current me. And I pretty much have no idea what to say or do”.

“Well, thank you for apologizing”, I smiled and took his hand in mine to show him that everything was ok, and he could feel more comfortable. He clenched back which I took as a good step. “You can always start by telling me what you feel, if you want”.

“You would think that it is easy”, he snorted, yet he intertwined our fingers. “I just feel better when I see you and when I am with you. And I feel excited every time we meet. And I feel eager for the next time”.

“Well if it helps, I feel the same”, I mumbled.

His shoulders seemed to relax a bit to the sound of my words.

I lifted my arm and tried to turn his face gently to look at me or else he would make holes to the floor from how intently he was looking at it. I smiled and he grinned.

“So…”, I started.

“So, we could maybe try and spend some time together one of these days…”, he trailed off.

“Well, it is not like I have something to do now… we could always start with watching a movie?”, I questioned.

“Yeah I would like that”, he smiled.

We picked a movie and sat on the bed, at first apart but as the movie was progressing, in between laughs and comments, we came closer and ended up cuddling. I am not sure when but at some point, I fell asleep in his arms.

“Sshh, go back to sleep”, he whispered as he was trying to get up and leave the bed, my hand instinctively holding him in place.

“Don’t go”, I mumbled, eyes still close.

“I can’t stay here, and you are asleep”, he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

I opened my eyes, as awake I could be “Stay”

He looked me again, eyes full of adoration. I could see he was thinking of it. I sat up, and gently pulled him close to me so that he could sit back again in the bed. “Stay”, I repeated.

“Ok”, he said “I will”.

He moved to remove his sweater and close the lights and came back to the bed. I moved enough to make him space and he got under the blanket, the mattress moving under the extra weight. I looked down at him and a feeling of completion, of happiness filled me. I couldn’t believe that those blue eyes were staring back at me.

For a moment I wasn’t sure if I should do it, if I was overstepping but my eagerness took a hold of me. I leaned in, placing my hand above his heart, feeling it moving fast. He looked at me inviting, his hand moving to my cheek, guiding me closer. I stopped just centimeters away, our lips almost touching, to give him one last look, as if I was asking for the final permission. He closed the gaped and I felt the softest lips against mine.

After a moment we parted and he caressed my cheek. “Sleep now.”

I laughed at him but obeyed, getting back in position, my head on his chest as he wrapped his arm around me. And just like this we fell asleep.

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

After this night, Bucky was a totally different person. He was constantly smiling to me, hugging me with every chance he got, kissing me when he thought no one was looking. And in the compound, he was totally different, he would help me clean around, sing while he was doing chores.

Sure, there were also some bad days when he would wake up in his sleep screaming from the nightmares and I had to hold him in my arms and remind him that everything was in the past. That no one was here to hurt him and even if they tried, they would have to go through me first. After a while he would usually calm down, we would lay down again, he would put his head on my chest, and I would caress his hair. He, then, would fall asleep and I would let him sleep as late as he could even if he would be grumpy about it afterwards.

But everything felt so dreamy. And I would trade everything in the world for a smile of his.

#bucky barnes #Sebastian #sebastian stan #bucky barnes x original female character #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #bucky fic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader

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youngerdrgrey · 3 years ago

Text

relax (this is private, too) // a Mary/Ryan oneshot

about: In a post-2x13 world, Mary welcomes Sophie to the Bat Team, and Sophie derails the conversation with an observation.

“It’s a tale as old as time. ‘Straight’ girl meets somebody that she just has to know, wants to spend all her time with her, starts wearing her clothes….” Sophie and Mary both look down at the color-block jacket that Mary’s wearing — Ryan’s color-block jacket. But Mary couldn’t possibly have a crush on Ryan… could she? + read on ao3

notes: Surprise! Truly, none probably more surprised than me. One moment I'm saying that I probably won't write for a bit, and the next I'm writing this because we really didn't talk enough about Mary saying, "Okay, that's kind of sexy" over the hot shot moment. (As a note, yes, platonic, intimate friendships between women are important. At this moment, though, let's run the tape back with Mary who is very confused.)

🦇

“Sit, sit, sit.” Mary leads Sophie through the loft to the living room. “You must have questions.”

Sophie does sit — on the chair this time, which leaves the couch open for Mary. It’s a slightly different seating arrangement than they had yesterday. There’s definitely a lot less attitude and tension here, but then again, it is only Mary and Sophie right now. Unless Ryan’s patrol goes poorly, but it probably won’t. Besides, Mary had texted Ryan about wanting some one-on-one time to suss Sophie out. Sophie’s a great person, but she might need to come around to Ryan wearing the suit.

Mary uncorks the wine bottle on the coffee table and gives a generous pour into the two stemless glasses. It’s a rosè, which is the perfect drink for a casual conversation. It’s light, airy, and has absolutely no chance of worms or poison in the bottom.

Sophie eyes her glass a moment before picking it up anyway. “Honestly?” She chuckles. “I have less questions now.”

“Really?” Mary settles back into the couch. “Because I won’t judge you if you do. It’s a lot to take in.” Mary’d wanted to rip the suit right off of Ryan the first time that she saw Ryan in it. Granted, at the time, they’d still been trying to find Kate, and a stranger was wearing Mary’s sister’s secret vigilante costume.

Sophie swirls her glass. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m still processing the Ryan Wilder of it all, but… well, it all makes sense now.” She leans forward, her elbows finding the tops of her knees as she pitches towards Mary. “Before last week, I couldn’t understand why Ryan was suddenly everywhere. Sure, she worked at the bar, but then you were roommates out of nowhere. You went from zero to….” Sophie snorts into her wine glass.

Mary laughs too, but she doesn’t quite get why. It’s like they’re playing Never Have I Ever all over again. “Zero to what? I want in on the joke.”

Sophie shakes her head though. Her eyebrows pull together like she’s still puzzling something. Then she gives in, and her voice still has a hint of that humor as she finishes, “Zero to U-haul.” Mary chokes on the air in her lungs. Sophie raises her glass in a silent toast. “So, the Batwoman thing — makes a lot more sense than you suddenly having a girlfriend.”

Mary’s cheeks flush. Leave it to the lesbian to assume Mary’s hiding her sexuality. “A secret girlfriend is much more your speed.” Wait, is that rude? “Uh, no offense.”

Sophie takes a swig of wine. “None taken. You’re right. So, tell me more about working with Ryan.”

Mary smiles. This, she can do. She could talk about Ryan for hours. “She’s amazing. I mean, you know, you’ve seen her. She totally fills out the suit. Like it suits her and not the other way around. You’d think that it wouldn’t, but she really makes it her own.”

“Right, with the wig.”

“With everything!” Mary drinks some more. “She really gets this city, you know? Everything we’re doing with the Center is all Ryan’s idea. She came up with the plan, and she has these rules that we follow as the Bat Team! No killing, no working with Crows — again, no offense. Er, well,” Mary tilts her head to the side, “some offense. You guys have an awful track record at this point.”

Sophie takes another drink. “So you tell me.”

“But we also do team building exercises. It’s mostly us playing Taboo, and Luke getting really tired of us. Ryan’s so great. It’s like we don’t even have to say anything to know what the other is thinking. And even though she’s the boss, and she’s the leader, it’s like we’re really working side by side to make Gotham the place we always wanted it to be. The Center’s only the start. She has ideas about upgraded transitional shelters for people experiencing homelessness, and expanding the clinic if we get enough resources. She listened to my whole pitch about what we would need to do it, and asked questions, and— what?”

Sophie’s staring at Mary. Staring hard, but soft at the same time.

Mary swipes a hand across her cheek. “Is something on my face?”

Sophie shakes her head. “No, it’s nothing.” She drinks again, but her brows stay furrowed.

“Sophie, come on. Whatever it is, you can tell me.” Maybe hearing about all the good that Ryan wants is too much for Sophie right now. Mary can wait. It’s not like she’ll run out of good stuff to say.

“It’s the way you talk about her,” Sophie says finally. That softness is there again. A gentle touch in her voice. “Between that and your ‘kinda sexy’ comment yesterday… I don’t know, Mary, it just sounds like you have a crush.”

“A crush?” Mary repeats. “On Ryan?” She scoffs. “Hate to break it to you, Sophie, but I am straight. Like so straight. Like—”

Sophie puts her hands up in a silent casual defense. She drops them a moment later. “You don’t have to convince me. I believe you.”

“Thank you!” Mary flops back into the couch. Her head bounces just a bit on the top of it. Her curls smush, and she sinks down so that the thought can hopefully follow it out of her head.

She knows what sexy is. She can identify that something could be attractive without actually being attracted to said thing. There are all the different types of attraction. She ran a course on gender and sexuality for the doctors and volunteers at her clinic to make sure that everyone was on the same page in how to properly treat people that the medical field did not always regard with respect. She would know if she had a crush on Ryan.

Wouldn’t she?

Sophie sets her wine onto the coffee table. “It’s a tale as old as time. ‘Straight’ girl meets somebody that she just has to know, wants to spend all her time with her, starts wearing her clothes….” Sophie and Mary both look down at the color-block jacket that Mary’s wearing — Ryan’s color-block jacket.

“Okay, but we live together,” Mary reasons. Roommates borrow each other’s clothes. It’s not like she’s taking her crush’s jacket so that she has an excuse to see Ryan again. She can see Ryan whenever she wants. She does see Ryan whenever she wants. She can’t even count the number of times she’s come back from an awful shift, walked into Ryan’s room, and flopped down onto the bed beside her.

Her bed’s not softer than Mary’s. Mary obviously cared a lot more about her rest than Kate did, so Mary’s mattress is a dream. But Ryan’s room smells like a dialed down greenhouse. It smells alive and hopeful and earthy in a way that instantly calms Mary down. And when Mary’s having a really rough day, Ryan will put a pillow in her lap and run her hands through Mary’s hair until she stops seeing whatever gruesome wounds that she’s spent the last few hours dealing with. That’s not a crush. That’s… comfort. Intimacy. A deep, deep starvation for physical touch after a lifetime of parental neglect.

Friends can be affectionate. Friends can want to be close to each other.

She wants to be close to Luke. And to Sophie! She would love to curl up next to Sophie right now. Though, the more that Mary thinks about curling up with Sophie, the more she recognizes that it wouldn’t be the same as cozying up to Ryan. Ryan’s basically her same size. She’s got this warmth that radiates from her cheeks and her chest, and she hums songs and asks Mary to guess which song it is. Mary’s awful at this game, by the way. She usually ends up giving up, or drifting off to sleep while Ryan’s clearly picking songs that Mary — as someone who did not grow up in a Black household — did not grow up with.

(The one time Mary used that as a defense, Ryan had pointed out that Ryan didn’t grow up in a Black household either. Ryan grew up in a mismatch of cultures and identities in group homes before Mama Cora found her in high school. They’d made up for lost time with plenty of Miss Anita Baker and all the classics that Ryan had missed out on. The rest of Ryan’s cultural education came from other Black students and friends who’d either clowned her for not knowing a reference, or rushed to show her what their parents told them. It hadn’t been as simple as a natural osmosis for Ryan to feel at home with some of the cultural references around her.)

(Mary had whispered that it wasn’t easy for her either. Not with her mom working all the time and the rest of her Korean-American family out of reach. “There weren’t many Korean people in Gotham.” An understatement, but Ryan had leaned down and pressed a kiss to the crown of Mary’s head to comfort her. Sadness Mary hadn’t even known was still there had welled up. Liquified into tears that slipped onto Ryan’s pillow.)

(“It was—” Her breath had caught in her throat. The tears smeared her vision, which was fine, since all she could see from this angle were Ryan’s plants by the window anyway. “It was so lonely sometimes. And my dad…. With Kate… And Alice….” She couldn’t finish a single sentence. All the tears turned to sobs, and the sobs turned into this soul-clenching pressure in her chest.)

(Ryan had curled around Mary then. An arm found its way under Mary’s knees and softly tugged her into a tighter ball in Ryan’s lap. Ryan rocked them, whispered again and again, “It’s okay. Let it out. I got you. I’m here, Mary. I’m here.”)

Mary gulps now. “Ryan is….” She’s Mary’s roommate. Mary’s best friend. She’s the one who got Mary through losing Kate and who welcomed Mary onto the Bat Team. She’s the first person Mary calls whenever anything happens and literally the only person Mary could entrust The Hold Up to. She’s Batwoman, and…. And Mary has no idea what she would do without Ryan at this point. But it’s not like Mary wants to kiss Ryan. Just look at Ryan.

Look at Ryan in those ridiculous flannel shirts. She has twelve. Not including jackets. And she’s a woman, which is not Mary’s type. Mary hasn’t been super successful with her previous type, but they definitely have certain characteristics that Ryan does not. They don’t walk around in fluffy robes that they bought to spite their ex-girlfriends, or wake up super early after a late shift to use the workout bike that Mary still has never actually tried riding. They don’t make Mary sweet potato pancakes and encourage her to try out cooking on her off nights for stress relief. They don’t make her feel like home. They don’t…. Shit.

The lowest groan that Mary has ever done in her life grumbles out of her.

Sophie pops her lips. “There it is.”

Mary squeezes her eyes shut. “You’re not right. I don’t — I can’t — it’s Ryan.” She can’t fall for her best friend! She doesn’t have a backup bestie. “Besides!” Mary pops up to tell Sophie, “I have never once wanted to kiss her.”

Sophie raises an eyebrow in the smoothest, most silent way to ask, Are you sure?

(Mary got them breakfast the next morning. She couldn’t do the sweet potato pancakes, but she knew the right cafe to get Ryan’s favorite vegan chorizo burrito. She got back just as Ryan was finishing up a shower and called out, “Breakfast!”)

(Steam followed Ryan out of her bedroom. The tips of her hair dripped softly onto her shirt, just above her chest, and Mary couldn’t stop glancing down at it. Normally, she would’ve been able to, but that morning…. Ryan snatched up her burrito and flopped down onto the couch. On the first bite, Ryan let out a soft moan that somehow carried straight over to Mary. Maybe Mary made the wrong food choice? If the burrito was that good, and Mary could feel it, then she needed some of what Ryan was having.)

(“You’re brilliant,” Ryan said. Then she locked eyes with Mary and gestured with her burrito. “Anyone who would ever leave you behind is a dumbass. Full offense to the entire Hamilton-Kane family.” Ryan dug in for another bite, and Mary’s heart swelled in her chest. She couldn’t even smile with how full she felt. How warm and safe and loved. God, she loved Ryan. She really, really could spend the rest of her life like this.)

(Ryan’s face scrunched up. “Stop looking at me like that. I don’t care how hungry you look. I’m not sharing.”)

(Mary faked an outraged gasp. She wasn’t even hungry. Not anymore, not really. Still, she threw herself onto the couch beside Ryan. “I paid for it! Give me a bite!” Ryan squirmed away, and Mary had to cling to the curve of Ryan’s back to try and reach for the good. “Come on! Ryan!”)

(If Ryan was a guy, this is when Mary would’ve kissed him. Would’ve peppered his head and his cheeks and his nose with kisses until he turned just enough for her to kiss his full lips and suck his tongue into her mouth. To lose every bit of resistance in the soft brush of her hands, and the gentle curls of Ryan’s hair beneath her fingers. Ryan’s teeth nipping at her bottom lip, then her neck, then—)

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT!” Mary sinks even deeper into the couch. Then shoots up at the reminder of the memory of wanting to kiss Ryan on this exact freaking couch. She turns her wide eyes to Sophie. “What am I going to do?”

Sophie clicks her tongue. “Nope, I want nothing to do with that. Whatever happens there is between you and Ryan.”

“But what if….” Mary loses her words in a squeak. What if she doesn’t know what she wants to happen? What if she doesn’t want anything to happen? What if she’ll be totally fine, going about her business, continuing her life where she gets to occasionally cuddle up with her best friend in their apartment? Maybe she doesn’t need anything more than that. She’s made it this far, and she didn’t even know she had any sort of feelings, or attraction. She can keep on going now. She can be normal.

Not normal meaning straight, just normal meaning Mary’s normal state. Which was straight. Is straight?

Mary groans. “I hate my life.”

Sophie reaches for the wine bottle and fills Mary’s glass up to the brim. “Look on the bright side — at least you know who she is. No secret identities, or clandestine rendezvous. Unless you’re into that sort of thing.”

“I am apparently into a lot of things I didn’t know,” Mary mumbles.

Sophie sighs. “It’s not that different, and for you, maybe it’s not different at all. Maybe….” Sophie glances around the loft. Mary follows her eyes as they bounce from the wine to the hallway to the silly bat wall decals that Ryan got from Party City and put near the TV. Sophie nods her head, as she finds her words. “Ryan loves Halloween.”

“What?”

“Stick with me.” Sophie points to the bats, then the tiny plastic pumpkins from the checkout section of Target. “Ryan loves Halloween. She decorates the whole house around it because she loves it so much. But me, I grew up in a strict Christian household where Halloween was not what we did. We did Christmas. And you….”

Mary follows again. “We did a mix. Christmas and Hanukkah.”

Sophie winces. “Okay, a mix of holidays. You’re not strictly a one holiday kind of girl. And that’s fine.”

Mary glances back to the Halloween decorations. “So, in this metaphor—”

“It might be time to celebrate Halloween. Maybe you’ll love it. Maybe you’ll hate it. But it’s October now, so, get a costume, grab a pumpkin, and tell her how you feel.”

Okay. Mary can do that. Mary can totally do that. If she can handle Alice imploding her entire life in front of the whole world, then she can tell her roommate that she has a crush on her.

Maybe.

Someday.

When she’s ready.

“Can we, uh, work our way up to Halloween? I feel like I’m still hearing fireworks.”

Sophie grins at her. “Of course. We’ll go at your speed. And if you have any questions?”

Mary picks back up her wine glass and knocks back nearly half of it. “I’ll ask you. Or Parker. She’s incredibly knowledgeable for a teenager.” She probably wouldn’t use such convoluted metaphors either. It’s a win-win really. Great, last time Mary saw Parker, they were watching the lesbian drama; now Mary will be a part of it. Ugh. "I'm never living this down, am I?"

"Oh, absolutely not. Hey, Mary?" Sophie waits until Mary's turned her steadily narrowing gaze to her. "Never have I ever had a crush on Batwoman."

Mary flips Sophie off.

🦇

#mary hamilton #ryan wilder #mary x ryan #hamilbat #maryan #batwoman fic #mine #batwoman: s2 #batwoman: 213 #sophie moore #this was fun and then sad and then fun again. good times.#and they were roommates #and good night!

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hughiecampbelle · 4 years ago

Text

Parting Gift (Sam Wilson Oneshot)

Character/s: Sam

Word Count: 1,411

Tag List: @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt @myriadimagines @lilyswritings @encounterthepast @writerdream22 @brithedemonspawn @megnotfound @ladyeliot @locke-writes @thedarkqueenofavalon @fangirlsarah16 @randomfandomimagine @amirahiddleston @diana-westmoon @valkyrie-2312

A/N: This was supposed to be fluffy, but the closest I can get to that is melancholy lol. The weathers been nice and it got me feeling nostalgic for summer. I hope this gives off that vibe, if that makes sense? Sam just seemed perfect for this and I kinda love this :) It doesn't exactly fit the timeline, but oh well :P There are only Endgame spoilers, none with TFATWS. I can't thank you enough for letting me rest with my health/writing and posting in general. I hope you like it! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💖💜

Summary: You finally got him back 💌

Gif Credit: @biwilson / link 💕

FIC MASTERLISTS 1 -> 3 /WANNA BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST?

The low hum of the fan stirs in the quiet heat, restless, a lullaby you've grown used to since the season thawed. The snow puddles disappearing from the hot sidewalks, the grass growing green, the layers shedding around you until there is nothing but skin and the cool air that kisses it. It's old and shaky, the blades twisted, the fixture rattling, threatening to fall from the ceiling with every spin. Another chore you simply never got around to fixing, neglected much like the rest of the house. Like you, it was lucky it was still standing. The floors cried and creaked, needing to be replaced, but where was the time? The paint chipped, falling flake by flake, the shelves in need of dusting, the lawn grown too long, things were rusted, ruining, aging. Everything crooked, leaning, too heavy to stand on its own. One in the same, you and it, a reflection of your inner world, your inner turmoil, your grief defying, humanizing, materializing in rusted pipes, in thorny bushes, and weeds sprouting in the cracks of the sidewalks.

It was your dream. An escape. A slice of heaven he plucked from the skies. At least, that's how he'd described it. His hand, warm and calloused, over your eyes, letting your suspicions get the better of you, questioning like a child. What color was the door? How many windows? Was there a backyard? A steadiness in his voice you knew was not as solid as he showed, leading you past the street, past your new neighbors, the shade of the trees making your skin prickle. Up the path, you tried counting your own steps, anything to cheat the system. A leap of faith, you put so nicely. A house he passed by, one that struck him, caught his eye in a way nothing ever had. You? A house? Romanticized by the shoe box apartments the city had to offer, you never pictured any other life. Not out of opposition, but sheer innocence, a passive, thoughtless gesture you'd never recognized until the opportunity came along. Little convincing, it took. Somewhere far away from danger, from life, where you would always be safe together. That was enough. Always would be.

A fixer upper, that's what it was. Someone to care for in their old age, a long forgotten space only one with a heart of gold could fall for. Whether you were speaking of you, or the house, he'd never get the chance to ask. Where he saw the two of you, together, watching the rain pour from outside, comforted by a warm kitchen, a grand bedroom, nooks you could fill with hints of yourselves, you saw a slanted driveway, an unkempt garden, leaky ceilings and no hot water. He had hope. Dripped in honey,band hope, his voice sang through the thin walls, a symphony of ideas, of dreams for what it would one day be, taking you by the hand, leading you through. A maze of projects, big and small, things you'd add to a list of infinite length, your pen running out of ink long before you ever reached the bottom. For now, a coat of paint, a bucket or two for the leaks. He promised you, in the middle of an empty house, that it would one day be your home. You trusted him, because he was so sure of it, unlike anything else before.

You watched him sleep, the two of you facing one another. The sheets long discarded, too warm to even touch. You could follow the rise and fall of his back, the way in which he held the pillow to him, as if scared to let go. Tracing every line of him with your eyes, taking note of every single change, drinking him up every second you had together. The beads of sweat across his hairline. The upturn of his mouth, a whisper of a smile, as if caught in a sweet dream. The lines you see in yourself not yet reflected in him. Untouched by time. Five years could turn into a lifetime with the right kind of loneliness.

Plastic stuck to the furniture, bloated, sweaty, patiently waiting to be unwrapped. You couldn't bear to look at it, any of it, turning away from entire rooms, going only where it was necessary, using what you needed, not ready to face this place alone. It wasn't that first day, where your things, tightened by the city smog and lack of breathing room, were scattered wherever they might fit, left to expand in their new environment. The kitchen table in the living room. Chairs in the hallway. A couch discarded by the window, blocking the natural light. For the time being, he promised. Too many boxes to count, filled to the brim of glasses and mugs, wedding pictures and high school yearbooks, things you thought you needed, and things you knew you did. All of it wrapped in plastic, paper, t-shirts and towels. Whatever you could find to protect it. Sleeping on the floor those first few days, the mattress late, the frame even later, leaning on one another for that kind of comfort. It wasn't that first day, or week, but enough time to settle. The small things weren't yet opened. Two cups, to dishes, an endless waiting game for supplies to be shipped, of time to be found between work days and exhausted nights. He had a plan though, first the inside, then out. Sometimes there weren't enough plans, or lists, or schedules in the world to stop what would come next.

All of this, less than a month before The Blip.

Things hadn't changed since then, not without him. Five years you carved your path into the floorboards, avoiding everything that hurt like a landmine. His cup, his dish, his knife, and fork, and spoon, untouched. You would not look through your wedding album, or seep into the couch you bought together, or pluck the thorn riddled bushes like you pictured. His side of the bed empty, his clothes tucked away where you didn't have to see. All except one shirt taped up, turned away. His cologne fading from the collar, something out of your control, that made you want to scream. Everything these days, it seemed, was out of your control. Others, they moved on eventually. Started dating. Remarried. Found new friends, had more kids, picked up where they left off. Family reached out, teammates too, but you couldn't look at them. The anger, the sadness, all of it overwhelming. It left you drowning in questions no one had the answer to, everyone asking themselves the same thing: Why him, and not them? Why him, and not you? Why did any of this happen in the first place?

Isolating became the cure, and the corruption. The salt in the wound, a familiar sting you grew to expect, even want. A home for two, he promised, only now you were one. How cruel could the universe be? Hour by hour, day by day, you counted, carrying on for when he'd be back, because he would be. Sam, your Sam, too stubborn a man to give up like that. You would have dusted, washed the floors, made the place a little more welcoming if you'd known he'd be back when he did. Everyone came back, reappearing out of thin air, but where they felt frenzy, uncertain in explaining all that's happened, you were at peace, able to breathe again. Time had stopped when he was gone, your life paused. You could feel it, the moment when, the clocks in the house ticking once again inside their boxes.

Now, you lay together, as you had that first night. Not on the floor, not as naive as you were, but together none of the less. The sunlight strains, wanting to light up the room from behind the curtains. Even without it, you find yourself baking, wishing the fan would have a little more power. Sleeping in, you could have laughed. Five years he had, somewhere else, to rest, and yet you let him, not wanting to wake from what you fear might be a nightmare. If you woke up, and he was gone again, you weren't sure what you'd do, how much longer you could stand it. He assured you though, much like he had with this house, everything would work out in the end. That he was here, and he'd never leave you again.

Ever.

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birdsandspades · 4 years ago

Text

Ice Pack (A Todoroki Shoto Oneshot)

-The dorm is fresh out of ice packs. Lucky for you someone happens to know where to find one.

Word Count- 3,122

*This is my first BNHA fanfiction so i’m sorry if its crumby. I just think Todoroki is really neat.

----

You pressed a finger into the skin of your arm, hissing as the red gave way to white. Turning around, you looked over the rest of your body in the gym bathroom mirror.

“I think this is my worst sunburn yet. I really should have put on more sunscreen…” You frowned, wrapping a towel around your body.

Your quirk had been a wonderful gift, the first in a long line of quirkless family members. The day you manifested it you could have sworn your father cried.

“A hero, we're gonna have a hero in the family!”

You remembered the fond words as you looked down at the pile of clothes on the locker room bench. It sure didn’t feel like a gift right now. You picked up your shirt, inching it over your burning skin. Each scape of the fabric drawing out a new string of curses.

“Hey, are you dressed yet, Mina is wait...oww,” Jiro looked over your reddened back, wincing as you pulled the shirt over it.

“Yeah, oww”, you sulked. You glared down at your pants, not ready to endure the pain they would cause your legs.

“Tell me again how your quirk does all of that again.” She motioned to the entirety of your burned body.

“Well, I'm like a solar flare. My body stores a large amount of heat, and if I save up enough of it I can make flames. If I have a big enough amount of it I can even produce light.”

She nodded along, shuttering as you shimmied into your jeans.

“But the more I use it, the more I'm exposed to the UV radiation I'm putting off. Eventually, if I use it too much. Well, I get this stupid sunburn.”

“I still don’t get why you get so burnt, didn’t the department of support make you that sunscreen a few months ago for it?” She gave off a chuckle, recoiling at the faces you were making while you slid on your shoes.

“Yeah, but I don’t think it’s working…” , you trailed off, looking at the bottle of sun protectant stuffed in your gym bag. You picked up the rest of your belongings, motioning towards the door. “I’ll talk to them tomorrow, let's just go back to the dorms so I can take these things off again.”

Jiro held open the door, laughing as you waddled past her.

----

You stepped into the common room, smiling at your classmates sitting on the couch.

“Who ordered the L/N F/N, extra burnt?”,Sero teased from his seat, elbowing a giggling Denki.

You gave him a sarcastic laugh, throwing your gym bag at him.

Kirishima turned his attention away from the t.v, his eyes slowly roaming over your red arms. “Hey L/N-chan, how was training…?”

You gave him a sad smile, “Exhausting, but I think I finally got my flashbang technique down!”

“Jesus Glowstick…”, Bakugou walked past you from the laundry room, an amused smile tugging at his lips as he pressed a rough hand onto your forearm.

You smacked him away, cursing at the now burning skin. You looked up, meeting his glare as he walked off down the hallway. You hated that nickname and he knew it. He had picked it out after the licensing exam, going as far as to even suggest it for your permanent hero name. Most people thought he chose it after your quirk, you did after all have a nifty move called glow. You had made yourself useful during the search and rescue part of the exam, using your quirk to illuminate your body as you searched for survivors among the rubble. Many of the students had commented on it after the exam, envious of the power giving you such a high boost on your score. But Bakugou had chosen the nickname for a different reason.

He had had the pleasure of running into you after the exam later that night in the kitchen. Your body red and raw from over exerting yourself during the test. “You're so red you're practically glowing. You should get a support item if your weaknesses are that obvious Glowstick ” , he mocked, poking your sunburn and he walked past you to the common room.

“I’m going to grab some ice packs from the freezer and call it a night.” You patted Jiro on the back before walking to the kitchen.

----

You had been looking for the ice packs for about twenty minutes when Midoriya walked into the kitchen.

“Hey Midoriya-kun, have you seen the ice packs? I’ve looked everywhere and I can’t seem to find them.” You pulled your head out of the freezer, turning to him.

He gave you a sheepish smile, holding up the warm gel packs. “I’m sorry L/N-chan, I took them out last night and forgot to put them back when I woke up.”

You shut the freezer door, taking the packs from his hand. You squished a few of the warm beads around the plastic, sighing in defeat. “It’s ok, i’ll use a water bottle or something.”

You trudged past him out of the kitchen and towards the dorm rooms. Usually your sunburns only lasted a few days tops, but this one felt different. The heat radiating off of it alone was enough to tell you that it was deep. You really should have put on more sunscreen.

You bumped into a stationary mass, the points of contact stinging as you looked up.

Todoroki’s hold on his phone slipped as it fell to the ground. “I’m sorry L/N-chan, I was reading something on the news.” His gaze fell on you, taking in the fluorescent flush of your skin. “Your sunburnt.”

You took a step back, looking away in an attempt to hide the rising heat in your cheeks. “No, I'm sorry Todoroki-kun, I wasn’t watching where I was going. Are you ok?” You reached down, picking up his phone.

“You should use the ice packs in the freezer.” He slipped the phone out of your hand, careful not to graze your sensitive skin. “ It might help with the discomfort.”

“Oh, Midoriya was using them so they are warm now. I’m gonna use this water bottle for a bit.” You shook the bottle, giving him a soft smile. “I’m sorry I made you drop your phone, I hope it's ok!” You shimmied around him, giving him an awkward wave as you made for your dorm room.

Todoroki raised his hand slightly, watching as you rushed down the hallway.

----

You had been working on your homework for a few hours in an attempt to keep your mind off the multi toned boy down the hall. You groaned, letting your head fall on the table. The second hand embarrassment burning the skin on your neck further. Functioning had not been at the forefront of your mind when your eyes met his in the hallway. That was painfully obvious as you replayed your awkward retreat over in your head.

“You could have just talked to him, it's not that hard to talk to people F/N. He was being nice and you ran away.”

You continued to grumble to yourself, angry that once again your lack of social skills had robbed you of an opportunity to talk to your crush.

This hadn’t been the first time you had made a fool of yourself in front of Todoroki, nore the second or third. The boy seemed to be a magnet for your most awkward encounters.

----

You could remember the first time he talked to you. You were standing in the tunnel waiting for the first of the sports festival games to begin, the echo of the audience ringing through your ears. You peaked your head out from the entrance, scanning over the sea of people in the stands. You could feel your heartbeat quicken, the thumping in your ears deafening as you cowered back into the tunnel.

A warm hand on your shoulder pulled you out of your eclipsing panic attack, the sound finally coming back to your ears as you looked up.

“I heard that if you picture everyone in underwear, it makes it less scary. I don’t understand why, but maybe it will help?”

Your eyes met a familiar mismatched set, the hardness you were used to was replaced with concern as he looked over you.

You had grown attached to them in the time you had spent in class together, the small glimpses you caught stirring the butterflies in your stomach everytime they looked your way.

The fluttering in your stomach started to stir per usual, the lump in your throat expanding as you searched the crevices of your brain for something to say.

“Hi.”

He gave you a confused look, “Hi.” Shifting on his feet, he stood in silence. As if waiting for you to say something else. After a moment he gave you a small nod, disappearing into the crowd of waiting students.

----

A soft knock on your door startled you, your knee bumping into the underside of your desk.

Standing up , you rubbed the stinging skin as you walked over to the door. Turning the knob, you pulled it open.

“Hi Todoroki-kun.”, you stared at the boy in front of you. Unsure what warranted a visit so late at night, or really at all.

“Hi L/N-chan.” His look was blank as he stared back at you. He shifted on his feet slightly, pushing his hands into his pocket.

“Um, is there something you need…?”, you broke the silence finally. Your eyes met his once again before looking away, focusing on the door behind him.

“I wanted to bring you the ice packs from the freezer…”, he trailed off, looking down the hallway. “But they were gone again. So I figured, I could offer you a hand instead.” He extended his right hand a bit, offering it to you.

You looked between him and his hand a few times, trying to connect just what exactly he ment. “Um, it’s ok Todoroki-kun. It’s late and you're probably really sleepy! Plus it doesn’t hurt that much anymore, so you don’t need to worry about it! I have my water bottle and I can…”

He reached up, pressing his cold palm to your forehead. Your mind calmed as the soothing feeling sunk into your skin. You closed your eyes, leaning into his hand. Letting out a soft sigh, your hands reached up, circling around his wrist as you pulled him closer.

“I used to do this whenever my siblings were sick. They said it made their fevers feel better, is it helping you too?” He craned his neck, peeking under his arm to see your face.

You gave him a small nod, sinking into his touch. The first bit of relief washing over your body.

He looked behind you at the desk, opened books and worksheets scattered across it. “I can help you with your homework as well if you like?”

You opened your eyes, blushing as you met his own. You couldn’t help it. The way he tilted his head, the childlike curiosity that tinted his eyes as he watched you cling to his hand.

“I don’t want to be a burden…”

“You're not.” He stated bluntly, gently pulling his hand away.

You took a step back, opening the door wider for him to come in.

He took a step inside, closing the door behind him. “You didn’t show your room when we did the room contest.” He was scanning over your bedroom, taking in all the things that made it yours.

“Oh, um. I was kinda late getting moved in so mine wasn’t unpacked yet.” You played with your finger, watching as he walked over to your bookshelves. “It’s mostly manga, I don’t know if…”

“I like manga too.”, Todoroki looked back at you, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Your room is nice, I think you would have won.”

“Ah, probably not. Everyone has such fun rooms, mine is pretty bland in comparison.” You waved your hands at the thought, giggling awkwardly. Your eyes went wide as Todoroki unzipped his jacket, sliding it off his shoulders. He draped it over the back of the desk chair before pulling it out to sit down.

“My jacket is insulated, you wouldn’t really feel my quirk through it.” He stated plainly, unaware of why you were staring at him.

You gave him a simple “Oh” , before sitting down at the seat across from him. At least he was wearing a tanktop, but that wasn’t helping much either. You turned your attention to the math book in front of you, forcing your gaze off of him.

He gave you a weird look, watching as you got out your worksheets. Pushing out his seat he walked around the table. Grabbing the chair next to you he pulled it closer before sitting down again. “I can’t reach you from over there.”

Your body tensed up as his shoulder rubber yours, the coolness of his exposed skin slowly permeating your shirt.

He reached his arm around you, pulling you into his right side. His hand gingerly snaking up the sleeve of your shirt, as he caressed your heated arm.

“How much have you done so far?” He used his left hand to flip through your papers, looking over the work you had completed.

“Only a few problems.” You mumbled, looking down at your hands under the table.

“Hm?” He leaned in closer, his eyebrow raised as he tried to understand whatever you had just muttered out.

“J-just a few.” You spoke a little louder, earning a nod from him as he turned to the next page of your book.

He slid the paper over to you, motioning for you to start so he could watch your work.

You sat there for a moment, looking at your book. “Um Todoroki-kun, i’m right handed.”

His eyes shot open, letting go of your arm. “I’m sorry, go ahead.” Crimson creeped up his cheeks as he rested his hand back in his lap, unsure where to put it at that point.

----

He watched you work over a few problems, correcting you as mistakes popped up. He had a way of explaining this that just made everything make sense, if he had been teaching the class maybe you would have had a better grade by now.

After a while you were out of homework to work on, the silence settling between you both as you packed up your books for class the next day.

“Thank you for helping me Todoroki-kun, I don’t think I could have finished it without you.” You turned towards him, offering him a small smile.

“I enjoyed helping you, thank you for letting me.” He returned the smile, chuckling lightly.

Your lips parted slightly, blinking slightly at the sight before you. You were in awe, not only had you seen him smile twice in one night, but that was the first time hearing him laugh as well. Heat blossomed up your cheeks as you gawked at the now very confused boy in front of you .

Todoroki reached out, palming your face as if it was a ball. “I think your sunburn is getting worse. You look even redder.”

“That isn’t the sunburn…” Your words were muddled by the hand over your face, the concerned look in his eyes visible through his spread finger.

He pulled back, clearly flustered by the mistake. “ O-Oh, i’m sorry.” He stuttered out, avoiding the amused look on your face.

You reached for his right hand, bringing it back up to your cheek. “It’s ok, I didn’t mind.”

He chewed on the inside of his lip, lost in thought as he searched your eyes. He had never been good with social cues, he could blame that on his father. But right now, it felt a lot like what he thought reciprocated feelings would be like. He ran his thumb over the skin of your cheek, wishing his other hand was just as cold. If it had been then he could have cradled your face, touched you just a bit more.

You looked down at his left hand, his fist clenched around the fabric of his sweatpants. You reached down, pulling it away from it's grip and up to the other side of your face.

He was hesitant to touch you with it, the heat from it was sure to cause you irritation. That's what it had always done for him, an uncomfortable reminder of why his mother was no longer home. What had hurt those closest to him. What he didn’t want to be.

He ghosted the tips over your cheek, testing the waters. He watched for a reaction, searching your face for uncertainty. When he saw none he closed the gap, letting the reservations pass as the anxiety melted out of him.

You were naturally warm, just like him. He had felt it on multiple occasions. The arm brushes in the hallway, the finger grazes when he handed you something, the radiating heat he could feel just from being near you. He liked it, you were like the sun to him. That little bit of warmth kept him going most days, but he was getting addicted. But what would more feel like? Would you want more, would you want him?

You could see from the look in his eyes that he was debating something. Weighing the options in front of him. You reached out cupping his cheeks with your own hands. You ran your thumb over the bottom of his scar, his skin soft as it gave way to the soft pressure of your fingers.

He relaxed into your touch, whatever had been plaguing his thoughts was no more.

“Todoroki?”

He hummed in reply, eyes still closed.

“Can I kiss you?”

He opened his eyes, giving you a skeptical look. He opened his mouth to speak before shutting it again. Shaking his head he let out a soft chuckle.

He leaned in, brushing his lips over your own. “I should have asked you that.” His lips met your own, molding to the shape of the smile that tugged at the corners.

His were warm, the perfect temperature between hot and cold. He lingered for a moment, extending the duration of the contact. No one wanted to pull away, but the need to breathe was bubbling up.

You stared at him breathless, speechless as you processed the lasting heat on your lips.

“Todoroki I…”

He cut you off, “I can stay a bit longer if you want. You're still pretty warm.” He gave you a shy smile, taking your hand in his own.

You smiled brightly, squeezing his hand in yours. “I would like that.”

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nagisasstunningpersonality · 4 years ago

Text

TINSITOGS, a retrospective (happy birthday)

(yes I’m like two days too late I know I’m sorry)

Why hello followers and ass class fandom, nice to see you there. I’m sure MOST people know about this, but in case you don’t, hi. On AO3 I’m better known as livixbobbiex, writer of maybe one of the most infamous Assassination Classroom fics.

Which I mean like, if you haven’t read it yet you totally should it’s fanlore at this point I promise-

Shameless plug that I don’t need aside, I felt that, on its first birthday since actual completion, I just wanted to share some things about it. Some tit bits about writing it, fun facts, maybe even some author advice TM. I appreciate that it’ll be super annoying if I do that in the tags, though, so that’ll all be under the cut. If you don’t want to read the whole post, then no matter what, thanks for the support in general!

I also want to take the opportunity to announce that I’ve reopened my discord, so if you want to talk about my fics with me (and others), you’re more than welcome to join! (the link is here)

The origin story

I’ve stated this many times, I think, but TINSITOGS was never supposed to be a serious story. Taking you back, quite a long time, it actually started in a facebook DM with a friend. We used to come up with “head canons” with each other, which were basically just very condensed fanfiction plots over a multitude of text messages. I believe I was trying to cheer her up, and I tried to come up with some kind of plot line.

At the time, I was fairly fresh to the Ass Class fandom, and I was joking about how there were no teen pregnancy melodrama fanfictions. It wasn’t that I wanted one, I just thought it was strange for a school centric anime with a bunch of ships to NOT have one. And, back then, I only really cared about karmagisa. So I just decided ‘right it’s happening’. The reason I decided to make it ABO was due to ‘it making sense’. Fun fact: it was almost written as AFAB trans Nagisa, but I decided against it as I didn’t rate my ability to handle it well back then. Looking back on it, I’m glad I made that decision.

Over around two months, writing out the plot of this story took over my life a little bit. I had no idea where I was going with it, but I was having so much fun with the drama that I decided that Karma and Nagisa shouldn’t get together soon at all, and I had a lot of fun teasing my friend with the ‘will they won’t they’. It was only when I got bored that I invented this intense drama plotline to finish it all off.

That period of time was a lot of fun. And whilst that friendship didn’t end well, I still have a lot to thank her for. She chose Daichi’s name because I had no idea, and she wanted to annoy me because I didn’t like Haikyuu. When I couldn’t decide on his hair colour, the purple was her suggestion because ‘why logic?’ Daichi speaking Korean was because of how much she liked Kpop. She even helped me choose the title of the actual fic, so there’s a lot you can thank her for, honestly.

After I finished that story, though, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Whenever I daydreamed, I used to think about that damn Daichi Akabane, and how much I wanted to tell his story. I’d even come up with extra stuff to fill in a lot of the gaps, and developed his character in my mind. I decided that I was really desperate to write it down. Usually that worked when I had an idea I wanted to work through.

I wrote the first chapter in late 2017, and then the next two as well. I just, kept going, and realised that I could go further still. TINSITOGS was never something that was supposed to be shared, but I decided I may as well. After all, that fated ‘teen pregnancy drama’ fic still didn’t exist, and I thought it would be funny to make it happen.

Yes, as I’ve stated publicly a few times, TINSITOGS was a crack fic. If I wanted attention from it, it was infamy. We even joked about me cursing the fandom if it ever became the most popular fic (whoops?). What I wasn’t expecting was a bunch of people, in a fandom where at the time there were NO ongoing karmagisa fics and it was pretty dead, to really seem to enjoy it. It was enough to have me keep writing it, at least. I still don’t know at what point I actually started taking it seriously, but somehow I did, and the rest is history?

The reception

In my wildest dreams, I never thought that I would be the author of one of the most popular fics in the fandom. To this day, the amount of views TINSITOGS has is insanity to me. For the record, across all platforms it’s on today it has 238,000, which is literally a number I can’t even visualise anymore. Almost quarter of a MILLION. To this day on AO3, it’s the most viewed Ass Class fic that’s an ACTUAL ass class fic (the others are multi fandom compilations). So yeah, I achieved the original goal, I guess?

Now you might be wondering, “omg the karmagisa fandom is fujoshi trash”. And, considering the origins, it is kind of funny. The thing is, though, TINSITOGS was written at incredibly good time. It was written when there were, essentially, very few long form Karma/Nagisa stories. If any other fics did get posted on occasion, they were usually just oneshots. I was also, at that point, writing very fast. A symptom of ADHD is becoming obsessively productive over certain things. Since I was able to get a 3k chapter out every few days/once a week, TINSITOGS was consistently bumped to the top of AO3′s default view. And some of those first few chapters were altered canon, and transcribing the canon dialogue didn’t take very long. The more views it got, the more people would read it out of sheer curiosity.

I think it also helps that, at least after it started getting some positive feedback (which was honestly after the pre written chapters), I purposely tried to make it ‘not terrible’. I mean, I personally think the first chapter is pretty weak and if it wasn’t somewhat iconic to a lot of people I’d rewrite it. But in general, I purposely tried to make the world of ABO my own, to make it more accessible to those who don’t like that genre, and stay away from the inherently grosser stuff as much as possible. I genuinely do get comments about how I introduced people to the genre as a whole, still not sure if that’s a GOOD thing but hey, it happened.

TINSITOGS turned into a lot more than just a joke. It turned into my favourite hobby. It turned into a research project (honestly, you would not believe the amount of mummy vlogs and legit scientific articles about child development I consumed). It turned into something that, at least I believe, was widely loved.

Meaning

I think it might be wrong to say that I don’t have AN idea of when I started to take the fic super seriously. For me, it was around the time someone commented something along the lines of saying my writing meant a lot to them, that they’d spent all night reading it and had been unable to put it down.

Not to get too dark here, but I do have a past in writing a very long, somewhat popular fic (it’s still on my fanfic net profile if anyone’s interested, but I don’t recommend it). However, in the latter part of my teenage years, the depression struck. Writing was the love of my life, and I couldn’t bring myself to do it anymore. Maybe I’d be able to muster an idea or even a chapter at the best points of that, but I’d never completely finished any story. Starting to write again was a huge step in my recovery, and one of the reasons I convinced myself that life was worth it was being able to impact someone’s life somehow. Even to this day, I still remember the fics I read when I was, like, thirteen. How much I still remember them, and how much they meant to be at the time. I wanted to be that writer for someone else. To be honest, it was actually Yuri!!! On Ice that got me out of the super bad, but I still never wrote anything of real consequence. TINSITOGS was the first time in a long time I actually committed to something.

And, to be completely honest, there were a lot of times I was tired of it, and wanted to just quit. But, the thing was, I felt like people depended on me in a way. I got so many comments that were just FILLED with support, telling me how much they looked forward to every update. It wasn’t just empty words, either, a lot of the times these comments would be super engaged with the actual writing. I can’t even describe just how much they meant to me, how much I would look forward to reading everyone’s opinions. And then discord happened, which was a lot of fun.

TINSITOGS went a lot further than I ever thought it would. There were comments, discussions, fan art, fan FIC (which is honestly incredible to me). Someone even added it to TV Tropes, at one point. Not to mention the Cards Against Humanity deck and quiz It makes me so unbelievably happy that I could inspire that much creativity, but it’s a two way street. It was all of that which inspired me to write, too.

Writing

The only real goal I actually had was aiming for around 3000 words per chapter. I had a whole facebook log of plot points as planning, and I was mostly just trying to expand on them into prose. I honestly thought that, at its completion, the entire fic would be around 100k words, if that. Not, at one point, being literally the longest ass class fic on AO3.

There are a lot of aspects that were directly adapted from the original messages, and I tried to stay faithful to it more so at first, even if I later removed some of the pure crack. But the style was also vaguely similar, with the story being told mostly from Nagisa’s perspective with swaps to Karma when it made sense. All the main plot beats, too, are pretty much identical. The plus to this was I was able to add a lot of really fun foreshadowing, and I feel like it’s a fun reread because of it.

Honestly though, if there’s a demand to release those OG message logs, I will. Mostly because it’s kind of funny, and interesting to see. Isogai and Nagisa were engaged at one point, even.

Obviously, it changed somewhat. 3000 was the minimum length, and the time to completion was whenever it felt right. One of my big concerns was about pacing, so it took a lot more fleshing out and maybe ‘filler’ content for some of the main arcs to work.

There’s parts of TINSITOGS I don’t think aren’t written that well, and some that I’m still super proud of. I think you can definitely tell there’s a gradual shift in style, and I get a lot more comfortable with writing them as characters as it goes along. To be honest, my pride for the fic overall is what it represents.

It is funny to think about the places it got written in, though. I started it when I worked at McDonalds with no life direction, then it went through my first year of university with me. It’s been written in at least four countries. Aeroplanes, night clubs, long haul buses, a train through the Japanese southern coastline. Even the start of covid. TINSITOGS managed to see a lot. I even turned a scene in (the boat scene during the India chapter with altered names) to my university as a legitimate assignment.

There were also a few messages I wanted to achieve, once I realised I had the platform to put them across. One of them was, obviously, ‘use protection kids’. It was important to me that I didn’t glamorise it too much, and I think that came across. I also wanted to dispute some of the issues with ABO, and subvert the consent issues as much as I could. An arc I really ‘liked’ writing was how abuse doesn’t always look the same way, and that it can be a drawn out change in behaviour. How the most important part of ‘being a good parent’ isn’t perfection, but genuinely loving and doing the best you can for your kid. How love doesn’t solve everything, and effective communication can take a very long time to learn and build a functional relationship. I mean, there definitely was a lot I tried to put in, and you’re free to interpret it all how you want. But, I like to think some people learnt some of these things, at least.

Daichi

Honestly, Daichi developed almost of his own free will. I had a good idea of his appearance, and that he was smart. Writing him from birth until around nine years old (older if you read the sequel fic) pretty much allowed that fluidity. It was really fun to explore a nature vs nurture development, and let his own characteristics speak for themselves.

He’ll always have a special place in my heart.

This is the first image I ever made. When I was trying to figure out what Daichi looked like, I honestly just edited Karma’s hair (pretty well, actually? I’m impressed with my past skill). That’s where the ‘he looks just like Karma’ meme kind of came from.

This was the first image I actually created of Daichi. I THINK it was on rinmaru games mega anime creator or something, but it’s literally not available on the internet anymore as far as I can tell, so I can’t double check. This was in the pre-piccrew days. His eyes are closed because they didn’t have the right tone of goldish/silver.

His sister, Kaguya, didn’t even exist originally, even though I decided on that ending pretty early on. Actually, she was going to be called ‘Irina’ due to some hijinks. Initially, when Karma found out about Irina’s pregnancy, she was going to get super emotional and mad at him and basically force him to name his first born daughter after her. Karma agreed to shut her up, never intending to have another child, so when the surprise second child later came along they had to live with the pain. However, to be honest I just forgot to write in the actual scene that set it all up, and I decided against adding it anywhere else. The name Kaguya was a very last minute decision, and it was a chance for me to explore some ideas that didn’t fit with Daichi’s character.

Interestingly too, Daichi and Nao were never intended to be a thing. I only decided that towards the VERY end. Even though the reason I named Nao that was because of a ship I had in a J Drama (Good Morning Call). It just kind of ended up happening because I won myself over with imagining the cute.

The music

I used to write with a lot of background music, though not all the time. Particularly towards the start, there was a lot that didn’t really make sense thematically, yet I would write to a lot.

Here’s a link to the spotify playlist if you want it it’s basically all the ones I noted I’d listened to a lot. Not including the smut ones, though, I have a whole playlist for that.

Some of the notable ones:

Five String Serenade - the first scene I wrote of the entire fic, in Chapter 25 New Year Time where they fell asleep cuddling.

Cosmic Love - when I wrote Nagisa’s love confession scene in hospital (I also wrote this pretty early on)

Northern Downpour (though it was actually a cover by Emma Blackery) - The chapter after Daichi’s born (30)

When The Party’s Over - Confession Time Third Period, Chapter 69. I literally listened to this song on REPEAT when I planned and wrote the kind of ‘break up’ scene, and it’s one of the few parts that made me cry writing.

Turning Page - I know I said no smut, but this song actually gave me the idea to have the “I love you” in chapter 108 be less on a whim and actually more built up. In the original plan, Karma really did just say it without thinking. I’m glad I changed that.

Bury Me Low and Numb - pretty much all I listened to when writing the last few chapters, because Evil Nagisa core. So much so that Bury Me Low was in my top 2020 songs rewind.

As for the title, there’s actually quite a funny story. I had no idea what to call the fic, and when that happens I usually just try and find some song lyrics. I really wanted to use something from ‘October’ by the Broken Bells. Not only because it’s my favourite song (has been for years), but thematically it really worked. The issue was, it worked as the WHOLE song, there were no individual lyrics that captured everything. And, if they did, they didn’t flow very well. And naming the fic ‘October’ would have been weird for a lot of reasons. There Is No Sweeter Innocence That Our Gentle Sin really was just plucked randomly, in a desperate search to find any snappy lyrics from any song that had some kind of meaning. After a bit of discussion, we settled that it kind of worked... if Daichi is innocent and they committed a sin or something. It also wasn’t the most obvious lyric from the song (Take Me To Church if anyone doesn’t know) so I just went with it. It works out, I think, because TINSITOGS turned out to be a pretty good acronym and pronounceable word in its own right.

The merch redbubble drama

It’s a well known fact that I’m not very good at art. However, I decided to try pixel art because it seemed the easiest to not mess up. I made Karma and Nagisa, before deciding to also give Daichi a try.

This, to this day, is the only good quality art of Daichi that I actually own. The only one I’m actually happy sharing and thinking it doesn’t look terrible. As much as I love people sending me fanart, it’s not ‘my property’, right.

So, I was kind of joking about TINSITOGS having merchandise. At first I just made two funny quote things, and uploaded it to redbubble. I was never intending to actually make money from this, and I’d agreed to myself that if I did, I would just donate it to charity. I was joking with the quotes, but since I had this artwork I figured I may as well uploaded. Separately, there was also an image that had pixel Daichi next to pixel Nagisa and Karma (which I also created).

Aside from showing up in a few people’s adverts across the internet, there was no real harm with this. In fact, I didn’t make money anyway. It was just... more the joke of it existing. I did, however, buy myself a Daichi phone case, which is one of my favourite possessions.

The funny ‘drama’ comes in when they got taken down due to copywrite. Sure, the one with Nagisa and Karma, I understand. But the other three literally had no mention or anything to do with Assassination Classroom, aside from being from a fanfiction. So basically, someone who owns those rights claimed my OC as theirs. Which makes Daichi canon? Whatever the case, I found this hilarious don’t worry.

How has TINSITOGS changed my life?

This is quite a strange thing to think about. Because, in a lot of ways, it really hasn’t. As I’m sure a lot of people know, I don’t really consider myself to have any real ‘fame’, despite the impressive numbers. Whenever I tell people in my personal life, they seem to think I’m some sort of internet celebrity, but that’s never been the case for me. I mean, it’s hardly a cultural phenomenon.

In a lot of ways, I’d much rather befriend someone than have them admire me. Possibly because being someone’s inspiration is kind of weird... I’m just an awkward duck who likes to write after all. I don’t mind it, though. I genuinely find it an honour, even if I don’t necessarily agree. I also want to take this time to say that if anyone ever wants to talk or message me, you’re more than free to do so. I’m usually super casual with people who do that, I promise.

TINSITOGS was the first story I ever finished in the way I truly wanted to. Start to end, a full narrative. And it took a LOT. There were so many times I almost felt like quitting, or took super long breaks. For me, ADHD queen, actually finishing something was a huge deal. And I know I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t owe it to everyone who read it, and myself, to see it through. You know like, if I were to die tomorrow, at least I’ve left something behind.

In a lot of ways, it’s changed me for the better. It’s helped me develop my writing styles, and way of thinking. It encouraged me to become more active in the fandom, and develop some important friendships. I always feel like my Tumblr and Fanfiction ‘known’ factor is separate. I think most of my Tumblr following is more to do with my theories/Japanese context research if anything, for example, but I know I wouldn’t be so interested in that if TINSITOGS hadn’t lead me to deeply examine character and really look into analysing source material for clues. I also think there’s just... a lot of myself in it.

I was 17 years old, when I first came up with the idea. I finished the story when I was 20. Now, at the time of writing, I’m 21. That time has seen some pretty significant changes - just in general life facts and my own personal human development. For me at least, a lot of that was pretty turbulent, and TINSITOGS stands as a time capsule for that, in a way.

I know I gained a lot of confidence, and it affirmed to me that writing is what I love. Telling stories and sharing them is what I love.

Conclusion

Do I think TINSITOGS is an outstanding piece of writing, or the best fic ever? No. I really don’t. It’s strange to say because I definitely spent a lot of time on it, but it’s not like I put my full unbridled efforts into the story. I don’t fully plan, use a beta, or even read through on my own. And that’s okay - that’s not what I write fanfiction for. Fanfiction is my place to have fun with characters and stories I like, without the pressures of having to stand on my own complete originality. Yes, I’m fully confident that I can write at a “higher quality”, if I really wanted to. I’m also aware that some authors put their full effort into their fics, and that’s just as valid!

It feels odd to say this about my own writing, but I honestly think there’s just something in this story. It might not be written in the best prose ever, and the premise might be kind of dumb for a lot of people. But, I think, there’s some part of this fic that managed to grab people. Somehow, at some point, many readers get captured into the emotions and so drawn in that ‘they just have to finish it now!’ Again, I’m not sure myself how I actually achieved that. Of course, that won’t apply to everyone, but I do feel there’s some truth in it. And it makes me happy, to have caused that.

If TINSITOGS is your favourite fic, or if you genuinely think it’s the best story you’ve read, then thank you. I really appreciate your support, and I’m happy to have been a part of your life, I guess. I know how much fanfics can mean to a person, and that’s why I’m not going to take it down, or edit it at all. And it’s fine too, if you loved the fic for a while and moved on -i t happens. Whatever the case, I’m very honoured to have been able to occupy a moment of your life. Or if you find this fic in 10 years time, even, I still wholly appreciate you.

This story was incredibly important to me, and thank you for reading if it was ever important to you too.

You may ask, what now? Well, this is only intended to be a detailed look back for whoever’s interested, and it’s likely the only one I’ll actually do, a year after completion. Of course, if you ever want to ask me anything or just discuss the story, you’re honestly good to contact me in whatever way I have available.

I’m still writing my ongoing stories, of course, despite taking a small break due to the university work load. I fully intend to complete the stories I’ve already started to tell, at least. After that... I’m not sure if I’ll still write fanfiction. Don’t panic, this isn’t a ‘I’m quitting writing’ thing. I may, however, have bled the Karmagisa genre a bit too dry at that point. Who knows? I am pretty interested in writing something original for once, so maybe that’ll work out.

For now, at least, thank you to anyone who read this fic. To anyone who commented, liked, or interacted with me over it. To anyone who created or learnt from it. I’m really glad that I got to share this story with you all, and ultimately left some kind of mark, no matter how big or small.

Happy birthday, TINSITOGS. I had a lot of fun writing you.

#ass class #assassination classroom #ansatsu kyoushitsu #tinsitogs #karmagisa

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vannahfanfics · 3 years ago

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The Blessings of Wisteria Blossoms

Category: Friendship Fluff

Fandoms: My Hero Academia, Naruto

Characters: Momo Yaoyorozu, Sakura Haruno

Additional Tags: Crossover

Hello, everyone! Here is the last story I did for the @quirknojutsuzine. I had a lot of fun writing about two of the best girls ever!

“Ahhh~” Momo hummed in contentment as she eased her sore body down onto the wooden bench. Her aching limbs welcomed the reprieve, the pulsing pain they’d been assaulting Momo with for the last thirty minutes dimming in intensity now that they’d gotten the rest they’d wanted. Her hands cupped a ceramic mug of steaming hot black tea sweetened with cream and honey. As she sipped the brew, its warmth spread through her weary skin and bones, making her hum once more.

As Momo enjoyed her tea, her black eyes began to wander to the area surrounding the teahouse. It was an isolated venue, nestled in the forest paths between training grounds—making it a popular spot for young ninjas-in-training such as herself. It was merely more than a wooden shack hugging the dirt road, with a few small benches and tea tables scattered in the grassy front, but Momo thought that it was cute and quaint. It had well-tended flowerboxes nestled against the siding, bursting with brilliant aromatic blooms of white and baby-blue. Several windchimes hung from the porch, filling the breeze with melodic tinkling. One of the windows was open to allow the scent of freshly-baked pastries to drift out into the road and entice passersby.

A quaint place indeed, but Momo’s favorite thing about the place was the wisteria trees. The massive curling trees towered over the teahouse to drape it in their long plumes of blossoms. To Momo, it always looked like a purple rain descended from the sky as the delicate flowers showered the area and filled the air with their sweet aroma. She loved to breathe it in, appreciating how the flowery fragrance complimented the robust tea leaves bobbing in the ceramic cup. Ino had told her once that wisterias symbolized both longevity and the act of expanding consciousness. Momo thought it ironic that the wisterias lined the training grounds’ path as if blessing the young ninja with both long, fruitful lives and neverending knowledge.

As Momo sipped at her tea and watched the plumules of wisteria blossoms wave in the breeze, a cheerful voice floated from further down the path. Momo turned to see a pink-haired girl waving jovially as she bobbed up the first road.

“Well, hello there, Sakura,” Momo smiled politely as the kunoichi joined her at the bench.

“Hey, Momo! Coming back from afternoon training?” the girl asked as she motioned to sit beside Momo. Momo graciously scooted over so that Sakura would have ample room on the bench, and the girl gratefully sat down and rested her hands on her lap.

“That’s right! Are you heading there yourself?”

“Yeah, but I’m just going to check on Naruto to make sure that he’s not pushing himself too hard,” the girl sighed, throwing up her arms and shaking her head. “He’s always been like that, working himself ragged. If I don’t check on him every now and again, he’ll pass out in the woods and die one of these days!”

As Sakura griped about her reckless teammate, Momo had to chuckle. The words were harsh, but Sakura’s tone was warm, belying the respect and fondness she held for her teammate. When the pink-haired girl looked at Momo quizzically, Momo smiled empathetically.

“I understand. Shoto is the same way. I had to go to his house the other day and hand-feed him soba because he’d burned his arms to a crisp trying to master a new jutsu,” she tutted and patted her cheek as she recalled it. Of course, Momo was more than happy to help Shoto in his time of need, but it had been undermined by the intense worry she felt beholding his arms swathed in bandages and leaking burn cream from the seams. Not to mention how inherently embarrassing feeding someone was—Momo’s cheeks flushed as she remembered spooning cold soba into Shoto’s mouth, and she hastily changed the topic of conversation. “Not just our teammates, either! Izuku’s constantly breaking his bones trying to pull off grander and grander stunts, and even Katsuki tore up his hands with his explosion jutsu the other day…”

“Now that you think about it, why are all the village boys so reckless?” Sakura groaned, gripping the edge of the bench as she tipped back her head and sighed heavily. “Really, without us girls, they’d probably live half their lives in a hospital ward! I swear.”

“Speaking of, isn’t Lee back in the hospital again?”

“Yes!” Sakura exclaimed in exasperation. “He broke his foot racing Naruto up a mountain! The dumbass tripped, fell, and tumbled all the way back down to the base. It’s a wonder he didn’t end up worse off! He’s lucky Hinata and Mina were nearby; they were able to splinter his foot until the medical team could arrive.”

Momo laughed airily as she held her hand to her cheek, feeling a bead of sweat roll down and catch against her fingertips. Now that she and Sakura conversed about it, the village boys really were forces of nature who landed themselves in all sorts of predicaments—and the girls were always there to mediate the aftermath.

“It’s a wonder we’re able to get any of our own training in since we’re so busy babysitting all these knuckleheads,” Sakura snorted with a wry smile. Her gaze softened as she looked out into the trees, at the purple wisterias mingling with the emerald oak leaves. “They sure do keep things interesting, though.”

“Oh, most definitely,” Momo agreed. “It’s heartening, too, to see the lengths they go to get stronger. I constantly find myself inspired. Maybe we ought to be a little more reckless.”

Sakura rolled her head to give Momo a sardonic scowl.

“What? Do you think those bozos would know how to take care of us? They can’t even take care of themselves.”

A second of silence descended between them. Then, they both burst into fits of giggles. Their little chuckles rose to flutter through the purple blossoms, dancing through them like bubbles until they drifted up to fade into the sky. Slowly, their laughter dwindled until they were both reclining back on the bench and smiling warmly as they considered the impetuous young boys they had the pleasure—or displeasure?—of calling friends.

“Well,” Sakura hummed as she slapped her legs and then pushed herself up off the bench, “I’d better make sure Naruto’s not dead.”

“Yes, I had better be off, too. I’m going to check on Shoto.” Momo, who had finished her tea, stood as well.

“Ugh, they really wouldn’t know what to do without us, would they?” Sakura smiled with a shake of her head.

“No, but we’re stuck with them, so we might as well help them out where they need it.”

“You’re right. See you later, Momo!” Sakura said with a wave of farewell before she started down the path once more. Momo watched her go, then returned the teacup to the owner. As she started off in the opposite direction, she paused in front of the wisteria blooms as they waved like curtains in the wind. Smiling, she plucked off a few tendrils of the buds and tucked them close to her chest as she started down the path again.

I’ll stop by Ino’s flower shop and snag a lovely vase on the way to Shoto’s, she decided with a bright smile. He could use some blessings of longevity, I think. She chuckled to herself, already anticipating that the hapless Shoto would have no idea why Momo would bring him some wisteria blossoms. She sighed into the wind and looked up at the sky as she walked along.

Sure, they were reckless boys, but Momo was glad that she and her friends could look after them. Together, supporting one another, they could all climb heights that no one ever thought possible. If they could physically survive the ordeal, at least!

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#my hero academia #naruto #yaoyorozu momo #momo yaoyorozu #haruno sakura #sakura haruno #mha #boku no hero academia #bnha

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agentsix606 · 4 years ago

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Echoes - Damirae oneshot

Wattpad

He snatched his sword with his other arm, hoping that his broken wrist would handle the weight of the blade. It could not.

He felt utterly useless watching Raven try and spell Deathstroke away. His attack had been devastating on the Titans. To his right, Beast Boy, Blue Beetle, and Starfire attempted to fight a controlled Terra Markov. Apparently, Deathstroke had survived the demolition of Brother Blood’s cave. Terra had not. He used a Lazarus pit on her and warped her mind to make the Titans seem like villains.

Nightwing was in worse shape than the Robin himself. He had protected Damian and subdued horrible injuries when Terra hurled a boulder at the teens. He didn’t have time to focus on that though, he had to help Raven, who visibly struggled against the assassin. Tt, of course, Slade had read up even more on Raven’s powers.

She had a stream of red dripping from her nose, an indication of exhaustion. She was bound to be low on stamina. Damian slammed his shoulder into the pillar beside him, relocating his shoulder. He was an Al Ghul, for fucks sakes, he could handle this fight with these injuries. He picked up his katana again, the pain shot straight to his shoulder, but he ignored it. His only focus had been Raven, who was nowhere to be seen. ‘Wait- where did she go?’ he asked himself silently.

She had been fighting Slade- where did Slade go?

His questions had been answered a milli-second later when Raven went flying into him. It was not a fun experience. She quickly pulled herself up as best as she could.

Slade laughed loudly, pointing his katana at the teens, “Teen Titans? More like Babies in costumes club!” he took a few steps forward, “Well, you might not be bringing me my pipe, but I got your old teammate for that, besides you two are pains in my ass.” He brought the sword down on Damian’s cheek; a small cut stung his face, “too bad you two never got together, you would’ve been cute, and it would make killing you a little more satisfying.”

Raven hurriedly moved her hand towards his shoulder, healing the joint as best as she could.

“Who should I kill first?” he waved his sword between the two, “Al Ghul?” he pointed it at Robin, “Or witch?” he brought it to Raven’s chin, lifting it. Her lip trembled, and hands shook. He laughed, “oh, look at you, standing there, shaking like a scared little girl!”

“I am afraid,” she admitted, stepping forward and pushing the blade closer to her throat, “but I’m still standing here, and I will protect my family, no matter how afraid I am.”

“Oooo, watch out guys, we have a badass over here!” Slade taunted, “You really think you can protect him? In two weeks, he’ll turn his back on you, and you’ll have saved him for nothing!”

“That’s his decision, not mine. I choose to call him my family, and we protect our family! You can cut me down, but I’ll come back stronger.” She smirked, “and I will show no mercy, should you hurt my family ever again.” She growled, her skin starting to turn red.

“I accept your challenge, demon.” He placed his blade horizontally on her neck, threatening to slice.

She reached forward, grasping the sword, and crushing it with a quick “Azarath Metrion Zinthos!”

“Impressive, little birdy!” he reached for three throwing stars and rested them in between his fingers.

“Heads up!” he threw them at the young girl, hoping to distract her enough to attack Damian from behind her, only she put up a barrier surrounding her and Damian. “Not bad, Kid! Perhaps I should keep you alive.” he walked around her shield, tilting his head to the side, “If only just to have some fun, you are a magnificent creature.”

Raven, angered, expanded her forcefield, letting its edges lash against Deathstroke. Her eyes turned to fire, and another pair appeared above her eyebrows. “I will kill you, scum!” a demonic tone overpowered her strong voice. A stream of black magic flew towards the assassin, catching him off guard, cuts appearing all over her body.

Damian was proud of the work she had done.

The demoness sent a hand filled with dark magic at Slade, crushing him.

“Raven!” Damian yelled, “Stop! You’re going to kill him!” although he wished Slade dead in the worst way possible, he didn’t want that burden on Raven’s shoulders.

“Stupid boy, my daughter may hold feelings for you, but should you try and stop me, I will kill you without a second thought.” Trigon sneered, crushing Slade with his spell. Damian picked up his sword and moved to the side, hoping to find a way to will Raven back.

“Raven, you have to fight him!”

“Enough boy!” the demon spat, grasping Damian with his other hand, squeezing.

“Please, Raven, you can do this! Your family believes in you!” he wheezed, the hand crushing him.

“You cannot fight me, daughter! I will-“ the demon stopped mid sentence before howling in pain. “-I will kill the boy if you do not stop, child!”

“I won’t let you!” Raven’s voice screamed, clutching her head and letting both assassins go. She fell to her knees, gasping for air as she fought her father for control. Damian, concerned, tried to get closer to her. However, Deathstroke had recovered quickly and ran towards the girl, katana in hand.

Grasping his sword with all of the strength he had left, Damian sprinted to Raven and blocked Deathstroke’s attack with a swift upstroke.

Using his right leg, he kicked Deathstroke’s hip, causing the assassin to stumble backwards slightly and drop his left arm. His right arm now holding the weight of the sword. Damian lifted his sword up, forcing Deathstroke’s sword away from Raven, before turning around and slicing into his chest. Now in a crouching position, Damian slid on his left knee, using his right to trip Deathstroke after spinning around behind him. Now facing Raven, he dragged his sword towards his opponent and placed its blade against his throat.

“Tt, I guess you’re the one who dies today.” He swung his sword along his throat and watched as he bled out. Breathing out heavily, the boy ran towards Raven, who was staring at the body in shock. “Raven, are you alright?”

Breathing quickly, she looked up at him with wide eyes, “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, “He hurt you.” She reached out to touch his cheek.

“I’m alright Raven, just catch your breath.” He placed his hand on her shoulder and sat beside her, exhaustion filling his body.

“Terra is down, Beast Boy and Blue Beetle are recovering, Deathstroke?” Starfire asked, flying over to the pair.

“Dead,” Damian announced.

“Oh.” She whispered in shock, “Dick?”

“Alive but injured,” Raven whispered. Her hands were shaking violently, her voice wavered as she tried to heal Damian.

“Raven, you must conserve your energy! you are also hurt.”

“I gave you these wounds. I should heal them,” Raven muttered, a black mist circling Damian's body.

“No, you will rest, and my wounds will heal eventually.” He threw her arm around his shoulder, helping her get up. “Do you need help to get to the Med Bay, or will be alright?”

“I’ll be fine, Damian.” Raven sighed, clutching her head and limping towards the hallway.

Sighing, Damian limped towards his brother, whom Starfire was crouched beside.

“What’d I miss?”

“Terra’s back and Slade is dead. I killed him, Grayson.”

The adult’s eyes widened, “Dami, I thought we had this figured out we don’t kill!”

“He deserved it! He would have stopped at nothing to kill Raven and me. He almost did.” Damian winced, his wrist twisting uncomfortably, “I had no choice.” The teen looked down at his feet, feeling slightly ashamed.

Dick softened his gaze, pinching his nose. He sighed, “we’ll talk about this later, right now, we all need to rest and heal.”

“Yes, everyone, let’s head to the Med Bay! We need to make sure no one is too horribly injured then you’re all off for the night!” Kori ordered. “Where’s Raven?”

“Heading to the Med Bay,” Damian answered.

“Great! Let us all head there!”

“Tt, I’m fine,” Damian grumbled.

“Try that again, and I’ll get Alfred to sedate you.” Dick retorted, pointing his finger at Damian.

Growling under his breath, Damian walked with Dick, Kori, Jaime and Gar, who had been carrying an unconscious Terra towards the Med Bay.

#damirae #dc #demon birds #demonbirds #damian x raven #teen titans #deathstroke

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longitud-de-onda · 5 years ago

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Forcing Javi to a family gathering and having your family ask if you’re dating and why you aren’t headcanons

i might have fallen in love with this and added it to the list of fic ideas, i kind of want to expand this into a long oneshot

After Javi left Colombia, there wasn’t much left for you to do with the DEA, and anyone you really cared to work with was gone. You figured it would be best to return home, retire early from government work.

It’s been almost four months now, and civilian life hasn’t gotten any easier. You visited your sister when you got back, but you didn’t get the chance to visit the rest of your family since you jumped at the chance to move to the city you dreamt of living in when you were younger.

It’s not until now that your family is holding their biannual get-together, a bunch of condos at a resort setting, a couple nights, almost everyone invites a few friends to come with too.

You like your parents but you’re not looking forward to a couple days holed up with some of your cousins, aunts, and uncles.

Your parents kept asking if you were going to bring a friend, and you know it’s a smart idea but the only friends you have are Steve, Connie, and Javier.

But you figure it’s worth a shot to bring Javier. You know he’s dying over in Texas. He loves his family, but he was in Colombia to get away. Still it takes a three hour conversation to get him to agree. It’s not like he has anything better to do.

Javi’s flight gets in late and you wait for him at the airport, so you end up arriving after everyone else.

Your parents greet you with open arms, and are thrilled to meet Javier. You’ve talked about him a bit before. They know how much he did for the DEA.

They’re pretty apologetic that the only room left in the buildings is one with two twin beds, leaving the two of you confused, but thank them regardless. It’s not like you haven’t shared close quarters before. Busy weeks sometimes meant you two would spend the night at the embassy.

You fall asleep pretty quickly, only to wake up after sixty minutes. You haven’t been able to sleep the night through since Colombia. You miss the sound of the birds and the warm tropical mountain air. And if you sleep for too long you’re plagued with nightmares.

You sit up in your bed, contemplating turning on the light to read a book for a bit, when you notice Javier is sitting on his own bed, facing away from you.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

You nod, and don’t push it.

You decide to just roll over and try to fall back asleep. You’re about to drift off when he whispers across the room.

“Can we push the beds closer together?”

“Um, sure? Why?”

He pauses, “...Nightmares.”

“You too?”

You would laugh at the synchrony if your heart didn’t hurt for him. He didn’t deserve to go through the same thing you did every night.

You both stand up to push the beds so they’re side by side, and you don’t realize it until the next morning, but both of you slept the whole night through.

You wake up before everyone else and slip downstairs to make breakfast. Javier joins you ten minutes later, and you have the kitchen all to yourselves as the two of you sip coffee and make a plate of scrambled eggs.

It’s really weird talking to Javier when there’s no work to discuss, no danger looming over your heads. In Colombia things were always so heavy there was no time to talk about casual things.

You’re surprised to learn Javier took square dancing classes as a kid, he loved watching M.A.S.H. before joining the DEA, and all his favorite movies are from the fifties.

It was like in becoming friends you had skipped the becoming part and jumped all the way to the stage where you would die for each other, and you were going back and patching up those holes.

Later in the day, you’re back in the kitchen helping your mother make lunch, its your favorite meal she makes and she wanted to have it as soon as you arrived, but when she learned you’d be missing dinner the night before, she pushed it forward to today.

“Are you dating Javier?”

And you splutter cause you are not expecting her to be that blunt. You tell her you aren’t. You and Javier have always just been friends. For around ten years now.

“You should ask him out.”

“Mom!”

“You two are so cute, he obviously cares a lot about you, and anyone can see that you’re in love with him.”

She’s not wrong. You had grappled with those feelings years ago and realized they didn’t have to conflict with your friendship. Anyways, working in Colombia didn’t lend to dating very well. Connie returning to the US was proof of that.

That evening, you’re sitting playing cards with all your cousins and your siblings and their friends and you are all getting a little tipsy. And they all start teasing you about being the only one who’s been single all these years.

And Javier places his hand on your knee to warn you against lashing out, a second before you even get angry

You retire to your room that night and know there’s a conversation you need to have because your mom was right, and you’re not in Colombia any more.

And you’ve never felt safer than sleeping next to Javier.

“We need to talk Javi. I know this isn’t the best place for this, but I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

“Wait for what?”

“I’m in love with you, Javi… I have been for a long time.”

And you were ready for the worst night of your life, but he crosses the room in three steps and is right up in your face.

“I know, so have I”

“You have?”

“I’ve been waiting.”

And you know what he’s been waiting for. For Colombia to be over. For the DEA to be over. For each fo you to be ready to actually love someone without worrying your jobs will rip you apart physically or emotionally.

And he pulls you into a kiss that is long overdue and makes you see stars and you realize that this here is where you belong. In his arms.

#javier peña #javier pena #javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javier peña headcanons #camila writes #c headcanon #rated g #under 2 #reader #angst #fluff #request #narcos fic #javi x reader #anonymous #ask camila

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softbiker · 4 years ago

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Agent 14 Oneshot

Warnings: maybe a couple bad words

Word count: 2.6k

A/N: While this is a continuation of the Steve x Agent 14 series, this particular installment has...almost no Steve lol. Just wanted to warn people before I get in trouble for that. It does, however, feature Agents 41 and 28 (from series written by @nacho-bucky and @kentuckybarnes )! Also, I plan on expanding and posting the full “menu” of custom drinks that 14 makes for her friends, so stay tuned for that! As always, enjoy and let me know what you think! :)

She squeals when the ad pops up as she’s scrolling through Instagram.

There it is, in all its glory, right between yet another engagement photo and a “no filter” celebrity selfie.

The S’mores Frappucino.

A towering frozen swirl of sweet vanilla and creamy milk chocolate, topped with the most mouth-watering promise of all: marshmallow whipped cream. And all of it dusted with a generous sprinkle of crushed graham cracker pieces. It’s enough to make 41 want to lick her phone screen.

With a flailing little backwards somersault, she rolls herself off the couch and bounds down the hallway towards Clint’s room, tie-dye socks slipping on the freshly polished floors.

“Guess what season it is?” She flings the door open with one hand, brandishing her phone in the other, her grin nearly splitting her face as she bounces up on her toes, eager to see his reaction - only to pull up short, a soft frown dragging her lips back down. The room is empty.

“Tweets?” 41 glances around the room, taking stock of the discarded socks and inside-out jeans littering the floor, a pair of her own boots flung to one corner, a plush sea turtle smiling at her from the bed. There’s a Sharing Size bag of peanut M&M’s on the nightstand, next to an open can of Red Bull, leaving a ring on the cover of last month’s Men’s Health which he’d permanently borrowed from Sam. She looks up at the ceiling - typically he leaves a vent open as a point of entry if he’s been…exploring up there. But no dice. Their vent remains screwed in place.

Shoving her phone in the front pocket of her hoodie, she backtracks towards the kitchen, rounding the corner from the hallway and sliding into the room Risky Business-style. A blazing mid-morning sun floods the room with light through the floor-to-ceiling windows, bouncing off of the metalwork backsplash and casting sparkles across the empty table. Hands on her hips, she huffs to herself, wondering where he’s run off to, before the clinking of glass bottles catches her attention.

Sticking up from the open door of the fridge is a vaguely familiar yoga-panted ass, waving in the air as its owner rummages through the shelves and drawers, muttering under her breath.

“Nat?” The red curls bounce in her ponytail as she stands at the sound of 41’s voice.

“Oh, hey, kid,” Nat smiles, propping a hand on her hip. If she’s at all bothered by the fact that her friend and coworker just got an eyeful of her backside, she hides it all with a poker face she probably mastered in super spy kindergarten. “What are you up to?”

“Just looking for Clint.” 41 pouts. She shifts her weight to one leg, scratching at her ankle with the toe of one sock. “You haven’t seen him have you?”

Natasha’s eyebrows flicker up as she closes the refrigerator with her hip.

“Oh - he didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“The boys are all out for the day,” she sighs, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. “Some kind of belated bachelor party for Tony - even though he’s been married for a year, he said he missed out on the experience; so he kidnapped all of our male counterparts for the day.” Nat shrugs one shoulder, smirking. “Frankly the concept seems outdated - and sexist. But when has Tony ever listened to me?”

Nat notices the way her shoulders fall, the way her hands roll up inside the sleeves of her hoodie. Poor thing. And she’d come in here looking so excited, too; now her frown settles too deeply at the corners of her lips, eyes cast somewhere on the floor. Abandoning her search for a snack, Nat slides onto a bar stool at the island, propping her chin in one hand.

“You have any plans for today?” she prompts. She’ll deny it till her dying day, but the formerly made-of-marble assassin feels…soft at her core now. No, not her abs - her backflips are as tight as ever; but somewhere behind her ribs, deeper than her muscles, there’s a marshmallowy give to her now - the press of fingers could leave a dent on her.

And that’s why, God help her, she couldn’t stand the sight of 41’s frown. Couldn’t endure the downcast disappointment in her gaze. Couldn’t walk away from her halfhearted, sighing shrug.

“Not really,” 41 mumbles, licking her bottom lip. “I was just gonna see if Clint wanted to go get Starbucks with me. They’ve got the S’mores drink now.”

Pulling her phone from where it’s tucked into the waistband of her yoga pants, Nat quickly swipes through her messages and pulls up a group chat named ‘No Boys Allowed’.

I’m so gonna regret this, she thinks, but she types up her proposal anyway and taps send. Time to assemble.

***********

The bell over the door dings cheerfully, and 14 fights her inner groan long enough to yell over her shoulder, “Welcome to Starbucks!” She doesn’t turn from the drink in her hands, too afraid of spilling the milk (again) and having to remake this caramel macchiato. Gaze intent on the cup in her hands, she drizzles the sides with caramel, watching the sticky sweet goop glide down the walls of the cup. Satisfied that this should meet the customer’s request for “extra, extra caramel”, she reaches for her milk jug, glancing up from the machine where her espresso shots are queueing.

41 waves ecstatically when she meets her gaze over the espresso machine, a suspiciously casual Nat smirking over her shoulder. Wanda is following close behind them, hands shoved in the pockets of a denim jacket, despite the summer heat. Maria is already standing in front of the register, eyeing the menu, with 28 next to her, a pair of dark sunglasses pushed up on top of her head.

14 blinks.

With quick, nimble fingers, she finishes the drink in front of her and sets it up on the mobile order stand, awaiting the customer. Chase, the barista who should be covering front, is nowhere to be seen; but she doesn’t have any other drinks waiting, so she strides up to the register, tilting a curious brow at her friends.

“Ladies,” 14 smiles, tilting her head to one side. “This is…a nice surprise? A kidnapping? A mission?”

“Relax,” Maria says, punctuated with a good-natured eye roll. “We’re just here for the coffee.”

“Oh, sure,” 14 crosses her arms, leaning a hip against the front counter. “You guys are a little short-staffed, aren’t you? Where’s all the testosterone?”

“Looking for a certain star-spangled specimen?” Nat pipes up. Their group has clustered around the register in a close semicircle. “Boys’ day out. Some kind of adventure that will probably land Tony in the doghouse…but then again, he’s partying with a couple centenarians, so how bad could it be?”

“You’d be surprised,” 28 mutters with a quirk of her eyebrows.

In front of a group of super spies, superheroes, and super intelligent women, 14 fights to put on the best poker face she’s ever had in her life. At the mention of Steve - as well as the news he wouldn’t be joining them - Nat watches her closely; the only sign of her disappointment is the way she purses her lips, eyes flicking towards the door as though she might prove them wrong. And then it’s gone, her eyes turning back to her friends, a beaming, nose-scrunching smile fixed on her face.

“That sounds awful,” she giggles. “But very on-brand for Tony.”

A chorus of assent from the ladies, rolling their eyes and scoffing at the endless supply of evidence they have to that fact.

“Alright so…what can I get you?” 14 prompts. As much as she’d like to stand here, chatting with her friends, she’s still on the clock for another hour and a half - and there’s work to be done. Maybe it stings, chafes her heart a little, that this little outing doesn’t quite include her; that she’ll make their drinks and then they’ll leave, and then more drinks for more people for the rest of her shift. But these customers are more pleasant than most, and it’s not as though she won’t see them later, so she shoves down her insecurity and taps at the screen of the register, opening her till.

“Well we were thinking…” Wanda starts, glancing at Natasha. The two share an amused smirk that 14 doesn’t like at all. “…that maybe you could surprise us?”

“Except me!” 41 raises her hand, bouncing up on the balls of her feet. “I haven’t had a S’mores yet this year, I need one! Please?”

Stunned, 14 looks around the group, cocking one eyebrow.

“So…one S’mores, and then - you all want to be surprised?” What a request - she didn’t trust anyone to make a drink for her…that could really backfire.

“Well, you know us,” Nat shrugged. “You know what we like, what we hate, what we won’t drink…”

“Besides, it never hurts to try something new,” Maria smirks.

Teeth sinking into her bottom lip, a slow smile spreads across 14’s face.

“Alright, ladies, say no more-”

It takes her little more than a minute to line up her plan, squinting at each of her friends in concentration, a Sharpie poised to mark each cup, labeled with a name in her characteristic block-print scrawl. They crane their necks over the tops of the machines, trying to see behind the bar and guess what she’s whipping up back there. Ingredients flit through her hands, shaken into one cup, then exchanged for something else for the next. Syrups, cinnamon, juices, toppings. They try and fail to keep it all straight from one cup to the next, but she’s too fast, hands reaching between two drinks at once.

Finally, with a last look over her shoulder, goofily sticking her tongue from the corner of her mouth, she piles 41’s coveted marshmallow whip on top of her drink and sprinkles the graham cracker topping with a generous hand. 41 barely contains her squeal as she grabs 28’s elbow and points at it.

“That one’s mine! Doesn’t it look amazing?”

One by one, she lines up the drinks at the end of the bar, turning the cups so each name is properly shown.

“Alright, so what am I in for?” Maria cautiously waves her drink under her nose, letting the steam waft up from the small opening in the lid. Hers is a hot drink, its contents concealed in a thick paper cup proudly bearing the same green logo as its cardboard sleeve.

“I thought you wanted to be surprised?” 14 smirks, sliding 41’s frappucino across the bar into her glitter-nailed hands. 28 grabs hers as well, a refreshingly cold…something - she plunges in a straw and swirls the ice as she examines the pale pink color of the drink.

“Well, bottoms up girls,” Nat shrugs, inspecting the layer of foam on top of her drink before raising it to her lips. Wanda taps her cup with 41’s before tipping hers up as well. Standing behind the bar, a rag in her hands, 14 gnaws on her lip as she watches them sip her creations. She shifts her feet as she waits for the verdict.

“Wow.” Wanda’s brows shoot up, tongue flicking over her lip. “This is really good.”

“Yeah,” Maria agrees, going in for her second taste.

“Don’t know why you sound surprised,” 41 says around her straw and a mouthful of whipped cream. “Everything she makes is delicious.”

“Oh, thanks,” 14 brushes off the compliments with a one-shouldered shrug. “If you like it I’ll give you the recipe, so you can order it again?”

Various noises of agreement, all enthusiastic, all from full mouths. She smiles, grabs a blank receipt paper from the register and a pen from the pocket of her apron.

“Okay, so yours Wanda is a double dirty chai with cinnamon…”

***********

Folding her apron over one arm, 14 releases her hair from its butterfly clip and reaches for her backpack. She keeps a spare change of clothes folded neatly in the bottom, in case she has to run errands after work and can’t go out covered in coffee and syrup. The bathroom is empty and she ducks inside, slipping into a pair of cutoff shorts and and a tie-dye t-shirt; her faithful sneakers can make it through work and life, thankfully, so she wiggles her feet back into them, not bothering to untie the laces.

It’s been a long day. And a glance at her watch tells her it’s only…1:09 p.m.

Backpack on one shoulder, sunglasses perched on her head, she makes her way back out of the café, pausing at the end of the bar to get her drink.

“Here, girl.” Jade, the barista who made her drink, smiles as she hands her a straw. “You look like you need this.”

“I feel like I need this.” 14 smiles back as she jams her straw into the cup and takes the first sip. Iced blonde americano, 2 pumps toffee nut, a splash of sweet cream. She makes a small noise of pleasure - hits the spot every time.

“See you tomorrow!” she waves to her coworkers as she backs out the door, dropping her sunglasses down to her face as she steps into the unrelenting summer sun. Not two steps out the door, turning to the street, and she nearly bumps into-

“Nat?”

“Hey, long time no see.” Nat wiggles her fingers in a mocking little wave. The rest of their posse is clustered around a couple of bistro tables haphazardly shoved together outside the café.

“What…you guys are still here?” 14 cocks her head to the side. It’s been over an hour and a half at least, their drinks are sitting empty on the tables in front of them. She had assumed they’d be long gone.

“Well, duh,” 41 grins. “We’re going to lunch! And then - oh, we should get pedicures!”

“Oh, can we go to that new Thai place?” Wanda asks, leaning her elbows on the table. “It’s only a couple blocks down from here.”

“God, the things I would do for some egg rolls right about now-” Maria agrees, patting her stomach.

They start to stand from their tables, the metal chairs scraping loudly against concrete, and 28 gathers the empty cups to throw away in the trash cans next to the door. The group shuffles and chatters, eager at the prospect of lunch; purses and wallets are snatched up, phones tucked back into pockets. Wanda leads the way as they march off in pursuit of pad thai and egg rolls, the rest of the group falling in behind her on the sidewalk. Even in the early afternoon heat, they link arms and laugh and stand too close together, sharing giggles and gossip.

Nat lightly bumps 14 with her shoulder, her green eyes gone pale and glittering in the sun.

“You didn’t really think we’d eat and run on you?” she smirks. “Come on, I’m starving.”

14 ducks her head and grins.

“Just one second-” she says, sliding her phone from her back pocket. She snaps a picture of her drink, then smiles at Nat. “Okay, now we’re good.”

Nat rolls her eyes.

“Wow, that was so basic-”

“Shut up.”

A few minutes later, sitting in a blessedly air-conditioned Thai restaurant, she captions the photo ‘new drink for you to try next time - I highly recommend it’ and hits send.

Somewhere across town, shoved cheek by jowl with his buddies in the back of a stretch limo, the interior vibrating with music and lit with flashing LEDs, a super soldier smiles at his phone.

#agent 14 #steve rogers x agent 14 #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fic

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metellastella · 4 years ago

Text

Oneshot: Injury by a Firebender: The Dragon of the West and the Avatar

“Don’t touch me.” the monk said sharply.

Iroh’s bronze eyes blinked in bewilderment at the harsh reprimand from the lighthearted airbender. He had gone in to hug him, because he was clearly upset after their training session. The boy had been burned before, and this one had been simple enough for Katara to heal. So he wasn’t sure what had suddenly caused this shift in mood.

“Are you all right?” the fatherly man asked with a tinge of panic.

The boy was silent.

His silver eyes cut into him. Iroh began churning up thoughts, trying to puzzle out what might be wrong, as he had when Lu Ten had gotten into moody episodes or angry fits.

“Aang,” the man said with a choked noise, “I am so, so sorry.” “It’s not your fault.” But the words were not forgiving in tone. They were hard. They projected ‘I understand this, but my feelings are very different from welcoming you back into my space right now.’

“What can I do to make it up to you? To make you feel better?”

Aang’s shoulders screwed up.

“Just . . .”

He breathed three times.

Iroh recognized how he expanded his diaphragm as far as it would go, sucking in all the life-giving air his lungs could stand, and then releasing slowly like a leaking gas tank.

The words from tutors from his own boyhood spoke to him,

‘Picture you are drawing in the prana, the life force around you, and with each breath out, imagine you are cleansing yourself of fear and weakness.’

“You don’t normally act angry or forceful like Zuko,” the airbender analyzed. “But you do have your rare moments. If you could just . . . be extra quiet for the next few days, that would be a spiritsend.”

“Of course. I will be totally silent, if that’s what would help.”

The monk relaxed further. “What made this one worse? Was it something I did specifically?”

The monk opened his eyes and gave him a strained smile. “Toph and Zuko see you as the father you never had, Sensei. Or,” he corrected, “Does the Fire Nation use Sifu?” “Either is fine.”

“Or do you prefer Master?” “Aang, it really doesn’t matter. You insist on this formality, even though I’ve told you it’s not necessary.”

“You see it as formality,” the monk bowed his head. “We saw it primarily as affection.”

“Ah! Well then I am honored.”

“It is not a sign of dominance or status,” the monk went on. “But, like ‘Uncle,’ from Zuko, a friendly honorific.” “Like -chan! Or -san.” “Exactly. Like family.”

The boy was silent for a few moments, and his brief happiness vanished. “I had my own gurus, so although I want to see you as a parental figure, it feels as if I am betraying the dead by doing so.” The words dropped on him with all the force of the boy’s ten ton bison slamming into the ground.

Tears gathered in the old man’s eyes.

“It’s not your fault,” the monk said again, much gentler this time. “I want to like you, Master Iroh. But, the man that you, as a boy, kowtowed to as respect to an elder? He brutally murdered my elders.”

Iroh couldn’t breathe. “Katara complains at me how ‘Zuko reminds me of my dead mother, and how am I supposed to deal with that,’ well.” The preteen laughed harshly. “I have to go meditate after she says things like that, or I will end up saying some very nasty things to her. She is like a noblewoman who complains that it is too hot, while fanning herself. I am the peasant out in the fields, toiling away to serve her up her dinner plate.” Iroh was convinced that he was having an out of body experience. He hadn’t felt this completely flattened by confusion since Mahimata, the Earth Spirit essentially mentally tortured him.

“Nobody seems to understand exactly how much pain I’m in.” The boy went on in a monotone. “When we started out our journey, I would cry almost every day, as a normal person grieving their entire extended family’s death would. Sokka totally understood. He’d hug me, and rock me. Katara on the other hand, could not handle it. Grieving periods for one person are usually about at least a year, the monks would say. We had a couple of elders join the Spirit World, during my lifetime. So. If we were going to do some simple math here, how long would I need to grieve just every single one of my boyhood playmates, aside from an entire population of my people?” Iroh was beginning to feel faint from lack of oxygen.

“Katara could not see me like that. It drove her insane. She’d let Sokka handle it. And I didn’t understand why at the time. I was hurt. I was beyond hurt. She acted so motherly all the time, and then when I needed her most, she abandoned me? I didn’t say anything to Sokka about it. I just cried. And tried to do what the monks said, look for the gratitude in the situation. A way to look at things from a positive angle. Impossible task, surely. I’d like to see the Mechanist be good enough at problem solving to unravel that one. After several meditation sessions, I finally ferreted out a way to look at it differently. This was ‘good.’ His macho attitude didn’t extend into berating a younger boy to ‘be more manly’ as you might expect.”

He repeated the deep breaths.

“Because, if both of them, my new family, had been unable to comfort me . . .”

The stab through the veteran’s heart was more painful than any blade that had ever gotten through his defenses and sliced into him.

“Katara saw me as the savior to the world,” the monk said distantly. “So, not only was she hurt by my pain, because her empathy is strong. Every time that would happen, she would think that the world was lost, that we really couldn’t do it. I was too broken to be able to do this. Later on, she said, ‘Aang, we can just run away. You are only one person. You can’t solve this. There’s too much history. Too many people involved. I’ll bet my soul to some wicked spirit, that when the Avatar was established, the elder spirits never expected him to have to do something like this!! This was all a mistake. A slip of Fate. Surely, we need to just let you talk to them, and they’ll say the same thing!’”

“I was very tempted by that offer,” the Bridge Between the Worlds said ponderously. “What if I just found some secluded spot for a couple of weeks, in order to go into deeper meditation trance states, and negotiate my way out of my responsibility? Were the spirits that merciful? Maybe.”

He shrugged. “Maybe I should ‘have faith’ that the spirits would be fair to me, a poor little boy who did nothing to deserve this.”

Several more breaths, and Iroh could feel the wind around him reacting this time around.

“I had a dream, where Roku spoke to me. He apologized for how he acted. That I needed more empathy from him, too. That he was not just my Guide, but also my elder who loved me.”

A loud sob escaped him, and his element whooshed in response.

“And now, when I sleep, I am in his arms. Like a baby who sleeps next to their mother. Sokka doesn’t have to do it so much, although he is still completely willing, and reminds me daily. Katara has gotten a little better.”

His next breath out was like a release valve, preventing overload from a too-full tank.

“Nowadays, Roku murmurs things to me like, ‘It’s ok if you fail, Aang.’ ‘Just try your best.’ ‘That’s all any of us can ask from you.’ ‘You won’t be penalized by the Spirits.’ ‘You won’t even hear a harsh word from any of us Avatars.’ ‘And we most certainly will be there to comfort you.’ If I die, whether by disgruntled protestors, or by assassins trying to re-ignite the war, then the Air Nomads will truly have left the world. I try, during my meditations, to rein in that all-encompassing, all-too-likely scenario. Meditation is meant to quell anxiety after all,” he said a bit bitterly, “and all its attendant visualizations. I guess I am just lucky that, although my anxiety is centered on the entire world, I also have more powerful meditation states than the average person as well. It is suited to the task.” he said flatly.

His silver eyes glanced around his surroundings.

“Had I been born somewhere else than the Air Temples, where meditation for bending is not taken so seriously, I’m not sure what mental state I would be in. I could be catatonic, for one. I’m sure I would’ve hurt or killed people in fits of rage by now, Avatar Spirit involved or not.”

He paused. “There has never been a child Avatar in the Spirit World. Ever. None of the spirits I have talked to in dreams knows what will happen if that comes to pass. Will I be a child in perpetuity? Some of the more feminine ones cluck over me like a mother hen and say, ‘You poor dear, you will feel very lonely here, should you die.’ ‘You will be the only one of your kind here, just as you are on the Material Plane.’ ‘We will lavish you with attention, little one.’ ‘You deserve paradise after death, probably even more so than any human who has ever existed.’ ‘Don’t be afraid.’” His tears drew tracks down his cheeks.

“‘You’ve never had a mother, have you, love?’ ‘Your gurus were so mastered in their minds that they could provide that feminine touch to you.’ ‘We don’t mean to disrespect their culture, dear, but it seems terribly sad to us, still.’”

He let out a broken chuckle and quavered in a slightly otherworldly voice, “Roku, you brute, you had better take over as the next Avatar’s Guide if that happens. Expecting a child who had barely begun to live to mentor a sixteen year old? The fire fields will freeze over before we let you off the hook.’” The boy wiped his eyes.

“I have lots of ‘people’ rooting for me. Not only rooting for me, but allowing the possibility that I will fail. And that, is what every boy and girl in the world needs.”

#Avatar The Last Airbender #aang #zuko #iroh #airbender #air nomads #fire nation

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