#this thread cured my depression x

[keys-hellscape-1020]

4 times you meet Red Robin, 1 time you meet Tim Drake

A/N: Sorry for disappearing these last few months. I’m not dead but I am in a serious depressive episode and you know what that means. Time to write.

Content warnings: Angst, Kidnapping, reader dissociates, they don’t get along at first, eventual fluff, this is my first time writing for Tim sorry if he’s OOC, uhhh cursing probably, let me know if I missed anything

Soulmate!Tim Drake x Soulmate!gn!Reader

————

1.

From your seat on the frosty park bench you watch the thin red thread bob in the winter wind, lit only by the pale light that is filtering down from the streetlight above you. You watch the string dance with mild interest, jerking your pinky at random intervals to make it flutter one way or another. No matter which way it sways however, you know where it will always lead. To your soulmate.

His name is Red Robin, or in other words, Tim Drake. One of the richest men in Gotham who just so happens to also be a crime fighting vigilante. A closely guarded secret that you only know thanks to a subtle design flaw in the universe. Television.

Ever since the third Robin made his first official appearance you knew. You could see the red strand trailing off his pinky, and, upon asking your father, discovered it was only you who could see it. It was at that moment, all of 14 years old, that you unofficially met your soulmate. It was at that moment, that your life was permanently altered, for better or worse.

At first, your stomach kicked in excitement. Your soulmate was a vigilante! You simply couldn’t belive your luck. You scoured the internet for any information on him, becoming one of his biggest fans in a matter of hours.

Your obsession lasted all of a few months. It came to a screeching halt when a photo of Robin kissing Spoiler was leaked. You felt your heart break, the pieces jumping up into your throat to choke you on your own disappointment and sadness.

The worst part? You knew you had no right to feel the way you did. Robin had no clue you even existed. His soulmate could be half way across the world and it become clear to you that he wasn’t intent on finding them. On finding you.

In that moment of heartbreak and spite you made a choice that would follow you for years to come. If Robin didn’t want to find you, you didn’t want to find Robin.

It wasn’t until several years later, when you were watching a broadcast of a Wayne gala out of sheer desperation to cure your crippling boredom that you first laid eyes on Tim Drake.

You sat in bored silence, letting the stream playing on your computer become background noise as you mindlessly scrolled through your phone, when suddenly an interview playing on your computer catches your attention. A man in a sleek suit with a face that you’re sure you’ve seen on tiktok before is leaning next to a man that you only recognize thanks to the name edited over the video for the sake of the viewers. Tim Drake, isn’t that guy a millionaire or something?

Pulling your attention back to the video, the interviewer is questioning him at record speed and Drake, for his credit, looks entirely unbothered. If it weren’t for the quickly concealed circles under his eyes and the way he periodically glances over his shoulder with a glazed over look, you might even say he’s enjoying the night.

As you watch Drake be interviewed, a dancing red string in the background catches your eye, stealing your breath. You watch it flitter in the background behind Drake’s head, almost as if it’s teasing you, daring you to do something with the information you now posses. You watch as Drake goes to tuck a piece of hair behind his ear, the small knotted string on his pinky finger unknowingly showing you the identity of Red Robin. It crossed your mind for a half second that they may be different people, but a quick google search reinforced what you already knew. Two different soulmates produced two different strings. You very clearly only had one.

You had laid awake all night, wondering if this changed anything, questioning if you should do something with this information. You couldn’t tell anyone, you knew that for certain. That might put him in danger and despite not even knowing the man personally, despite every fraction of your heart telling you to hurt him in anyway you could for what he’d done to you, you knew that you couldn’t live with yourself if he came to harm because of you.

And so, you bit your tongue, swallowed the ever burning desire to track down your soulmate, if only to scream in his face, and continued on with your life. Whenever the urge to track him down reared its ugly head you reminded yourself of the many photos you’d seen of him kissing someone, someone much more attractive than you. Someone who can keep up with him. Someone better. Why in the world would he want you?

The months after you found out Red Robin’s identity flew by, and despite having come to terms with it months ago, tonight you couldn’t sleep. Your room seemed to suffocate you, urging you to get some fresh air, the window of your room proving insufficient even when you stuck your whole torso out of it. It was at this point that you decided to go out, nighttime in Gotham be damned. You’d lived here your entire life, you could deal with a few muggers. And so you wrapped yourself up in a thick winter jacket over your pjs, complete with a scarf and gloves, making sure to slip some pepper spray into your pocket, where it would be easily accessible should you need it.

Nighttime in Gotham can be strangely peaceful at times, large buildings cast dark shadows which are only illuminated by weak streetlights, and depending on where you are in the city it can even be something close to quiet. You walk slowly, your boots crunching through the thin layer of ice and snow, as you navigate your way to the park.

The cold air feels nice on your face as you sit on a park bench, watching your string. Your head leaning against the back on the bench, taking in the sight of unlit buildings around you. After several minutes of sitting there in silence you finally decide to stand, a strange tingle on the back of your neck seeming to urge you towards home.

It’s only when you begin to turn that you notice the man behind you.

Before you can even register what’s going on you’ve switched the safety lock of your pepper spray and are spraying it directly into the eyes of the man with a shriek of fear.

You’re to stunned to speak as you shuffle back as quickly as possible, tripping over yourself in your panic, leaving you on your back, your pepper spray the last line of defense between you and… Red Robin? You let out a pathetic whimper of shock, which at any other moment would’ve left you horribly embarrassed but right now you’re too confused to feel anything else.

He lets out a muffled “Shit!” As he wipes at his face with the back of his glove. You stand and reflexively hand him a tissue from your pocket.

“S-Sorry.” You stutter out, watching the string cautiously float between you two in shock.

He gratefully takes the tissues and wipes his face with it, “Ah, it’s okay. The mask got most of it, just startled me was all.” He says tiredly, flashing you a weary half smile that has you feeling unfortunately weak in the knees.

“I uh-“ you find yourself at an unfortunate loss for words as you stumble through what you should say, fantasies of what you would do when you finally got the chance to meet this man face to face fleeing your mind in an instant now they you were actually in the moment.

“Are you okay?” He asks, blotted out eyes staring at you in what seems to be concern.

“Y-yeah… yeah uh… sorry I thought you were gonna try and kidnap me or something…” you said awkwardly, suddenly finding the ground very interesting as a sense of painfully strong embarrassment rushes through you.

“I knew I shouldn’t have approached you from behind.” He mutters quietly, more to himself than anything else.

“You were watching me?” You ask, creasing your eyebrows at him in concern. A hot spark of fury snaps to life in your chest. First this man breaks your heart, and then he decides to stalk you?

You swear you see him flush bright red underneath his mask. “No- no! Well, uh, actually yes- but not like that!” He stumbles through his words. “I just uh, thought you might be hurt or something, and then I uh- I saw your string and well I just thought I should say something.” He trails off awkwardly.

“Well then, what did you want to say?” You ask him, the spark of anger growing, fueled by all the painful memories that you’d acquired through the years.

“O-oh.” He looks genuinely startled for a moment at your outburst, and you would’ve felt bad had all the memories of how it felt to have to watch your soulmate flourish without you, how painful it was, not flashed through your mind.

“Well I honestly didn’t think that far ahead.” He says softly, almost shyly, as he looks at his feet and you hate how his cuteness causes butterflies to churn in your stomach. You let out a low hum as you consider your options, doing your best to ignore how adorable he looks as he glances at you and fidgets with his gloves.

“I’ve known.” You say calmly, calculatedly. If you played your cards right you could cause him a lot more pain than yelling at him ever would.

He looks up at you, a hit of confusion and concern in his voice. “Known what?” He asks.

“Tim Drake and Red Robin have one very striking similarity.” You say calmly, taking a few steps down the road that would eventually lead you home. You look back to see if he’s following and sure enough he is. You wag your pinkie at him in response.

“Ah.” He says simply, his shoulders tending.

“Relax, I’ve known for months. If I was gonna tell anyone I would’ve.” You say curtly as you begin walking home once more.

“How did you find out? Why bring it up now?” He phrases his questions as just that, questions, but you know that if you fail to answer truthfully he’ll find out quicker than you could blink. You’d looked into him over the years.

“T.V.” You say simply. “String showed up on it. As for why I brought it up, as of a few months ago Tim Drake hard launched his relationship with Bernard Dowd on Instagram. I’d be willing to bet money that the relationship had been going on for a while before that. That’d put you at dating for what, about 8 months now?” You look at him for false confirmation, you know you’re right. His shoulders are tense and you’re sure you’re receiving a scalding glare from behind his mask. You can’t help but grin in satisfaction. It’s seems your research paid off.

You see your apartment complex off in the distance and turn to face him once more. “This is all to say, you’re dating someone. What’s the real reason you approached me? Troubles in paradise?” You hum, you know you’re being nothing short of cruel right now but after watching this man completely disregard you, not care, or maybe just not realize that his soulmate would have to watch him live life without a care in the world for them, well you couldn’t help but think it was deserved.

He grinds his jaw as he looks at you. “We broke up. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Ahh so you intended to have me be a rebound then?” You snort and look him up and down. In all your years of watching him live life without you you’d never seen him look so tense. “Well as lovely as this was, I have to wake up early tomorrow. Nice talkin’ to you bird boy.” You turn around and start walking into your apartment building. You glance behind you and see Red Robin standing where you left him, staring at you, his jaw locked tight and his mouth downtrodden in a frown. You can’t help but feel a spark of well earned satisfaction at the sight.

————

2.

You really thought chewing him out would make you feel better. You truly did. Instead all it did was make you feel guilty. You can’t even pin-point the cause of the guilt churning in your stomach, making you feel all the worse. You almost wish that he’d announce another relationship so you could feel justified. On the other hand seeing article on article about his newest love might finally drive you to the brink of insanity. Assuming you could still call yourself sane at this point.

Every night after dusk when you leave to do absolutely anything, you can see a shadow of a figure following you around. You’re sure it’s Drake, it has to be. You’ve studied videos of him and other Robins, compared and contrasted, you know how every one of those vigilantes move compared to each other and there’s only one who has the minor tells you keep seeing out of the corner of your eyes.

Red Robin. The string leading right to him just confirms your theory. He must think it’s not worth the effort to hide himself, the string would give him away no matter what. So instead he’s making sure that whenever you leave the safety of your home you know he’s there. You pour over why in your mind, you even consider the idea that he’s protecting you but in the end even just thinking the idea cause a spark of humor in you. No he must have some other motivation, perhaps making sure you know he has the upper hand? Perhaps showcasing that you can’t hide from him?

Whatever the reason, you’re sure that you’ll find out soon. He’s been getting gradually closer over the last week and a half he’s been following you. Tonight he’s been less than half a block away at all times. Every moment that you’ve been walking to and from the convince store you’ve noticed the shadow.

You’ve never been more terrified in your life.

You know you have no real reason to be. You know that he can’t wound you or bring you into the police. He has no reason and you haven’t given him anything to frame you with, at least, not to your knowledge. That’ll have to be your only comfort for now.

The subject of your fears is about to be confronted as you purposefully turn into an alleyway that you commonly avoid during the night, just as you excepted, the moment you’re half way in you hear the soft sound of feet landing behind you. You’re certain it’s only a pleasantry.

You steel your nerves as much as possible as you turn to face Red Robin. He’s looking at you with a dark expression that you can’t quite place, it causes a drumming of unease in your stomach and you can feel your heartbeat picking up in your chest. You wring your hands together tightly before crossing them over your chest.

“Can I help you.” You ask coldly, keeping your voice low.

“I wanted to talk.” He says calmly, approaching you carefully, calculatedly.

For every step he takes you take two back, and he quickly gets the message and stops approaching. He holds out his hands as if approaching a scared animal. “I think we got off on the wrong foot.”

You can’t help a short, sour, laugh from rising in you. “We got off on the wrong foot years ago when I had to watch you pretend I didn’t exist.” You grit out from inbetween your teeth. “When I had to watch you fuck around in those relationships.” A tiny voice in the back of your mind screeches that you’re being stupid. Melodramatic. That nows your chance to get to know him. You ignore it. “We got off on the wrong foot when I told you to fuck off and you took it as an invitation to stalk me for a week and half!” You‘re getting angrier and angrier, hiding your unease and sadness behind a thick later of rage, as you had for years now.

You’re pacing, back and forth, back and forth, walking on an invisible tightrope before him, trying to calm yourself, to think rationally. It seems that Drake’s very presence however limits your ability to do so. You scratch at the nape of your neck, trying to center yourself.

His eyes widen in shock, as if he hadn’t even thought of the possibility that you’ve know he was your soulmate for years. He shakes the shock off much quicker than you’d like before he speaks. “I wasn’t stalking you-“ he begins, holding his hand out as a sign of peace. “I wanted to say something, I just didn’t know what.”

“So you decided following me around was the best course of action.” You say with a scoff.

He unconsciously copies your body language and rubs the nape of his neck. “Well, I started off on my patrol route and then I got… distracted.”

You fix him with an un-impressed stare. “You got distracted so you decided to stalk me?” You deadpan.

He tightens his fists in agitation, scoffing at you. “Well maybe if you weren’t walking around Gotham at night I wouldn’t have to keep you from getting kidnapped!”

You throw up your hands in poorly-contained anger, approaching him to jam a finger into his chest. “I’ve done fine without you up to this point! I hardly need your help.” You seethe.

He grits his teeth, holding eye contact with you from behind his mask. If you didn’t know better you would say that you saw a flash of regret on his face. “Fine then. Have fun fighting off muggers.” He practically growls as he pulls out his grappling gun and disappears into the night with a gust of cold air.

You start walking back, much more content now that there’s no strange shadow following you. As you drift off to bed that following night however you can’t help but feel a dash of regret.

————

3.

You’re regretting telling Drake to leave you alone.

You’re really really regretting it.

You watch the group of large men discuss you in hushed voices on the other side of the room, all of them dressed in black. You’d been brought into a small room of what you think is the office of a warehouse. After all, this variety of common criminal are never original with their plans.

You stretch and pull against your binds, trying to find any weakness in them, you grind your teeth in frustration when you fail to find any. One of them notices your twitching and after muttering something to the rest of the group approaches you. You watch, doing your best to conceal your fear, as the rest of the men leave the room.

The man crouches in front of you, balaclava covering everything but his eyes as he analyzes you.

“What do you want.” You spit out, attempting to kick him with your bound feet. The man easily swats them to the side, huffing at you in irritation. “Your soulmate is Red Robin.” He doesn’t phase it as a question, but an objective fact, making your stomach twist anxiously.

“Why the fuck would you think that.” You growl out, baring your teeth at him, doing your best to use your anger to mask your true feelings.

A series of bangs and shouts interrupts you from outside the room, causing the man to stand and turn quickly. He stands in front of you, staring at the door a while before he turns to face you, giving you a look that you roughly decipher as his best attempt at telling you “I told you so”. He pulls you up roughly, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and shoving a gun to the side of your head, making you wince silently.

He tugs the both of you into the corner that’s immediately visible from the door way. It feels like an eternity of standing there, trying to maintain a balance of getting as far from the man as his arm wrapped around you will allow while not pissing him off enough that he decides to use the gun. In actuality only 2 or 3 minutes pass as you listen to the sounds of fighting that echo outside the door. Despite your expectation of it, you still violently flinch when the door slams open, a painfully loud crack filling the room.

Drake looks frantic, he’s covered in dust and his Bo staff is sticky with a dark substance that you can only surmise is blood. He barely glances at you, eyes finding the gun that your kidnapper presses into your skull before his eyes trail up to the man holding you.

He holds out a hand, other gripping his staff tightly, and you can’t help but remember your last meeting. “Let them go.” He says firmly, like his trying to will the man’s action with only his voice.

From where the man holds you against his chest you can feel him shake with fear, but how did he think this would go? His friends would get the drop on Red Robin? Yeah right. You silently hope that Drake finds a way to get you out of this soon.

“Let. Them. Go.” Drake says again, approaching slowly. You can see his fingers shifting on his staff, attempting to feel out the man’s next move. “There’s no way you get out of this. So let them go and you can get off easier.”

Apparently he didn’t enjoy the sound of that as he throws you to the ground, points his gun, and fires. Drake’s mind and body are both quicker than any reflex this man might have however as he ducks under the bullets with ease, knocking the gun out of hands with a practiced flow.

You don’t see what happens next, and you don’t want to. All you see as you pull yourself into a corner are the scrapes on your hands from where you caught yourself. You bury your head in your knees and try to fuse into the corner. You don’t want to be here. You want to be able to pretend this entire situation doesn’t bother you. You want your soulmate to be anyone other than the vigilante across the room from you right now who’s beating a man to a bloody pulp.

Time doesn’t seem real, you don’t seem real as you stand in the doorway, watching yourself struggle to breath in that corner. You don’t know when you reentered your body but you know that Drake is in front of you, blood on his knuckles and dotting his face as he frantically unties you.

You struggle to breath and Drake presses his palm to your cheek, you flinch at the feeling of a sticky fluid meeting your skin. “Hey, hey it’s okay. You’re okay now.”

Your soul acts ahead of your mind and you press you face into his chest with a sob, you feel him physically startle for a moment, before he slowly and tentatively wraps his arms around you. “I’m sorry.” You choke out between cries, digging your finger into the fabric on his back. “I’m so sorry.”

You’re sure that in a day or two the memory of this will embarrass you, but for now his arms wrap around you and squeeze firmly, centering you in the here and now as he mummers comforts into your ear.

And for now, that’s all you need.

————

4.

It’s been almost a month since you were kidnapped, and then rescued by Red Robin. Your parents had begged you to come home and recover with them, but you had turned them down every time they asked. Under other circumstances you would’ve agreed in a heartbeat, but your apartment had something that their’s lacked. Red Robin. The man who saved you that night, and your soulmate.

Every night following your capture he’d come to visit. As he handed you off to the police he’d promised he’d keep an eye on you, and it seemed he intended to follow through on that promise, as for the last four weeks, like clockwork, you’d awaken to a soft tapping on your window, opening it to Red Robin.

The first few nights he’d simply crouched on your windowsill and exchanged a few short words with you, turning down your offers of bandaging his wounds or a glass of water before he was disappearing into the night as silently as he came. It took you nearly a week before you managed to convince him to come inside for the first time.

You had to practically beg him to come in, promising over and over that it wasn’t any trouble and you were sure that you didn’t mind. You’d never been so happy Gotham’s rent was cheap enough for you to live without a roommate so you didn’t have to explain to someone why Red Robin was in your apartment at 4 am. It took a while for the both of you to warm up to one another, especially after the rough start you’d had, but once you two actually had a conversation without gritting your teeth at each other you found you had more in common than you thought.

That brings you to today, nearly a month after Tim had saved you from your kidnappers. You’re currently both seated at your small dining room table, cups of cold coffee in both of your hands as you chat about everything and nothing at the same time, his mask laying on the table between you. You glance at the clock on your stove and startle slightly, it reads 3am. He had come by for a brief pick-me-up before he headed out on patrol, now it was about the time he should be done. If the things he’d told you were anything to go off of, Batman would be sure to express his dissatisfaction.

He follows your line of sight and winces when his eyes land on the clock. “I guess this means you have to go…” you say softly, trying to keep from seeming to disappointed.

He leans back in his chair and lets out a sigh before shrugging unceremoniously. “Eh, it’s okay.”

You cock an eyebrow at him. “Won’t Batman be mad?”

He gives you a grin that turns your muscles to jelly and makes your stomach erupt with a swarm of butterflies. “You think Batman’s never missed patrol because of a cutie distracting him?” He asks, looking you up and down in a surprisingly respectful manner that you find yourself wishing was a little less gentlemanly.

You feel heat rush to your cheeks and you rub at the nape of your neck in a futile attempt to disperse it. “I uh- I certainly find it hard to imagine.” You stutter, suddenly finding your floorboards completely fascinating.

He lets out a soft chuckle and a warm silence settles over the both of you like a blanket. You sit there and stare at the coffee sitting at the bottom of your cup as you swirl it around mindlessly. Your trance is only broken by Tim softly clearing his throat.

“So- so uh. I was wondering if you uh. Maybe wanted to go out with me sometime? Well not me.” He says softly, gesturing to his Red Robin uniform. “Tim Drake.”

Despite the warmth gathering in your own cheeks once more you place your elbows on the table and lean forward, taking pleasure in the pink you see on him. “If I didn’t know better I would say you like me birdie.” You tease.

He fixes you with a playful glare and copies your body language, similarly leaning forward. “What if I do?”

You click your tongue and pretend to be deep in thought for a moment. “Well…” you say slowly, “I guess I won’t have a choice but to take you up on your offer.”

He flashes you a smile that could rival the sun and stands up suddenly, prompting you to do the same. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 5, wear something nice.” He says with a wink before he’s opening your window, slipping his mask back on, and disappearing into the city with a short wave.

————

5.

You hadn’t slept much last night. But who could blame you? After Tim had left all you could think about was what he had in mind. You spent several hours slipping in-between consciousness and sleep and when you finally woke up for good you found yourself thankful that you didn’t have to work today as your mind darted over all the different possibilities of where he would bring you.

His cryptic fashion advice did you no favors. What exactly qualified as “nice”? You certainly had no clue, and as a result spent entirely to long scanning your closet for something. You considered several outfits. Too formal. Too casual. A shirt he had seen you wear as pajamas. A pair of shorts that would’ve been perfect had it still not been to cold. A top that showed off a little to much. Nothing worked.

It took you an embarrassingly long amount of time to settle on an outfit that could be okay for a variety of activities, even longer for you decide what accessories to pair with it. After several hours you still had time to kill before Tim picked you up, which you spent doing small chores around your apartment, mind too preoccupied to get any real work done. As 5 pm drew you near you found yourself checking over every aspect of your appearance, nothing seemed quite right but as the sound of your doorbell rang throughout your apartment you found yourself grinding your teeth and having no choice but to deal with it.

You smooth out your outfit one last time before pulling the door open. Tim stands there with a soft, nervous smile on his face, a bouquet of red roses in his hand. He’s dressed more formally than you’d expected, in a simple white t-shirt, with a dark grey blazer and slacks, finished off with black leather loafers.

He blinks in shock as he looks you up and down once, his ears turning a bright red as he seemingly snaps out of it, offering the bouquet to you. “You look lovely.” He says softly, looking away from you and towards the floor bashfully.

You feel your cheeks warm as you roll your eyes playfully and take the bouquet from him. “You’re one to talk birdie.” You flirt as you move into the kitchen to get a vase.

He follows you into your apartment, closing the door and leaning against its frame as he watches you work with a fond look in his eyes. You finish filling a vase with water and place the roses on a windowsill. You gently mess with the blood colored petals, moving them around softly before you turn to look at Tim. “Thank you for the flowers.” You say softly.

He gives you a small smile and rocks on his heels, “Ah don’t mention it.” He says with a wave of his hand.

“So, what exactly did you plan?” You ask, unable to keep the excitement from your voice as you approach him.

He gives you a smirk and opens your front door with a flourish. “After you.”

You can’t keep yourself from letting out a short laugh as you let him escort you through the hallways of your apartment building and towards a nearby parking lot, where an entirely too expensive car is waiting. You startle for a moment, but recover as he approaches it and opens the passenger door for you.

“Do you even have a license to drive this?” You tease as you slide into your seat.

He balks and stares at you in open mouthed shock for a few moments, causing you to let out a full bodied laugh.

“What is that supposed to mean?” He splutters, ears turning red as he looks at you in confusion.

“D-don’t take this the wrong way,” you say breathlessly “but you don’t look like someone who knows how to drive.”

He stares at you for a few more moments before wordlessly rounding the car and getting into the drivers seat.

“You’re sure you can sit there?” You snark.

He gives you a half-hearted glare. “And to think I was gonna take you out to a nice dinner.” He mummers under his breath as he starts the engine.

You give him an exaggerated look of shock and lean over as best you can in a mock-bow. “I am so very sorry my lord. Please forgive me.”

He considers you out of the corner of his eye, trying and failing to hide a smile. “I suppose your apology is acceptable.” He quips.

You straighten and give him a large smile, giggling as you turn your head to look out the window at the streets you’re passing. There is no denying that the start you had was rough, but now? Now you wouldn’t change what you had for the world.

[city0f-dreams]

Muse Profile: Deadpool/Wade Wilson

Heyyyyyy, people! …You know who this is. I’m not usually one to warn people before things turn ugly, but someone insists I tell you that my backstory involves mentions of cancer. Don’t worry, I don’t die…obviously. Now that that’s taken care of, click that “keep reading” when you’re ready!

“I know I turn everything into a joke, but…I care. And I want to use that feeling for something important. I wanna matter.”

Fandom: X-Men…? Marvel…? MCU…? F**k, buyouts make things complicated. Look, this is movie me, the one acted on screen by the guy who made a video game ripoff of the Truman Show. I’ve got that version’s backstory and lore, nothing from the comics or anywhere else. Got it?

Bio: The anti-hero mercenary known as Deadpool, real name Wade Wilson, has quite the tragic past…something you would never guess if you were to just go by his usual sarcastic demeanor. A former Special Forces operative, he picked up mercenary work and a fiery tongue after being discharged, shortly thereafter meeting his girlfriend, Vanessa. Unfortunately, some time after hooking up, Wade found out that he had cancer, one that had spread to his heart, brain, and lungs, among other places. Not wanting the one good thing in his life to be heartbroken by his death, Wade signed up for what he thought was an experimental program that would cure him; instead, it was weeks and weeks of torture in an attempt to unlock the mutant genes that they injected into him. He eventually gained a healing factor that left him incapable of dying, his body constantly building and destroying cells and leaving him in constant pain, and he was able to escape…but he was left scarred, disfigured, and mentally unstable in the process.

Afraid to go near Vanessa, Wade took up the name “Deadpool” and began to go after those close to the one who disfigured him, Ajax/Francis, in order to potentially return himself to his old looks. He wasn’t able to be fixed, but he was reunited with her, and along the way he made acquaintances with several members of the X-Men. Now, after adventures involving a rogue mutant boy, a time traveler, Fox being bought by Disney (call me when you’re ready for those contractually obligated cameos, Feige!), and refusing to let his home dimension die, Deadpool has started to lead a somewhat stabilized life taking up jobs as an unkillable mercenary. And with the entirety of the MCU available to him now, he’s ready to cause chaos with Earth’s most financially successful warriors.

Deadpool is primarily a wisecracker, unable to resist making a remark, whether he’s thought of something crude or not. He also suffers from a confusing, albeit persistent delusion that he is in a movie and is being viewed by an audience. Or do I? And don’t think I don’t see you people out there, too! Under the surface, however, he’s quite the sad clown: Unable to die and feeling like he doesn’t deserve to use his skills for good, he masks his depression and sadness with jokes. However, he does care, though more about his friends and those that keep him sane than about anything else. Why else would he do things like fighting the TVA when they were planning to erase his universe?

Verses:

V1: none of this is real; but it is real!-Wade’s default verse, a wisecracking mercenary taking up odd jobs and just in general showing up in random places to annoy people. Although firmly based on and up to date with the movie/MCU canon, he can show up anywhere and interact with anyone, considering his nature.

V2: the only good part of Origins honestly-This is a Wade who’s been discharged from the Special Forces and isn’t invincible or meta just yet, but is still snarky and very capable in combat. Fitting for a sci-fi/hardcore fantasy verse, or any thread where normal Deadpool just doesn’t fit.

Anything Else?: In case you haven’t figured it out yet, stuff highlighted in red in the narration is me doing what I do best. Well, besides killing people.

Also, if his meta stuff is getting a bit much for your liking, let me know and I’ll try to tone it down in threads together as much as I can while remaining IC.

[iwritesongfics]

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Mayfield! Reader

Warnings & Notes: Depression and anxiety, unhealthy coping mechanisms, dr*gs (weed because Eddie), angst, mutual pining, no use of Y/N but with use of nicknames, run-on sentences (I tend to do this sorry), Reader is she/her with Max's long red hair

A/N: Thinking of turning this into a series - thoughts?

---------

After your stepbrother, Billy, died during the Starcourt "fire", your stepfather left your mom (and effectively you and your sister) in godforsaken Hawkins, leaving what seemed to be your charmed life in shambles.

You were too beautiful to ignore, but also too broken to remain in Hawkins High's social inner circle. Not that you cared about everyone else's pitying stares, but you heard every single whisper about you as you attempted a semblance of normalcy in school if you couldn't have it at home.

"Did you hear about her family moving to Forest Hills? What a shame."

"You'd think their stepfather wouldn't abandon them after, you know, Billy.."

"I wonder how she's coping."

You weren't coping, but they didn't need to know that.

Your mom was working two jobs to keep you afloat while spending a quarter of her paychecks on alcohol. Max was barely talking to anyone, or at all. Pretending everything was normal was easier than going down a destructive spiral. At this point, you felt like your normalcy was only thing keeping your family intact, a thin thread your whole household tightroped on to give the town the impression that the Mayfields weren't completely falling apart.

Surprisingly, you found comfort in Eddie Munson, the repeat senior everyone told you to stay away from since you moved to Hawkins two years ago. He had pot, which was the only thing that helped you sleep these days, and more importantly, he was the only one who didn't walk on eggshells around you and made you feel, for the most part, normal.

You were lying on your bed one sweltering summer afternoon, your long red hair dangling on the mattress' edge to where Eddie was lying down on the floor, his face almost beside yours but not quite, an occurrence more common than anyone would have ever thought.

The heat was almost unbearable as you laid silently like a starfish in cutoffs and a tiny tank top, staring at the slowly spinning ceiling fan as you willed it to move faster.

Your hair felt heavy as you felt sweat pool at the nape of your neck. "It's so hot. Should I chop my hair off like Joan Jett?" you said, half talking to yourself.

Eddie tugged at your locks from his position on the floor. "Nah, don't. You're probably the only other person in the running for best hair in Hawkins, aside from Harrington."

Chuckling, you turned over and faced Eddie, your long hair a curtain over his upside down face. "My hair? What about your hair, Mr. Eddie Van Halen?" you teased, reaching down to muss his soft curls.

"Hey," he protested, swatting your hands away from his hair. "I didn't copy Van Halen, that's just a coincidence."

"Sure, and I'm sure the poster you have in your bedroom is also a coinci-" you yelped as Eddie tugged your arms and pulled you to the floor with him, your upper body draped over his as he tickled you mercilessly.

"Ed- Eddie, stop!" you wheezed with laughter, as you tried to extricate yourself from him, which was hard because your legs were still half on the bed.

"Say it, first, Red," Eddie smirked, gripping your arm with one hand as he continued his attack with the other.

"Okay, okay!!! You didn't copy Van Halen, happy?" you gasped out and almost immediately he lets up, finally letting you crawl down to the floor and lie beside him, out of breath.

"You're impossible, Munson, why do I keep you around again?" you turn to one side to face him, resting your cheek on one of his arms like a makeshift pillow.

Eddie's breath hitched. Why did you keep him around? You only started hanging out after you became neighbors, and while you never participated with the rest of the popular school bullies, your only interactions with him were in class when you caught up to him in senior year. He had no idea how you became friends, how what started as a one-time deal snowballed into a series of events that led to him hanging out with you almost every day, smoking joints on your purple shag carpet while listening to records you'd alternately pick.

What you didn't know was that Eddie noticed you as soon as you moved to Hawkins. How could he not? With your red curls and that red lipstick you wore all the time, you were destined for attention. He'd lost track of how many times he'd zone out during the rare times he'd get dragged to pep rallies, barely noticing the routine as his eyes followed your red smile like a lighthouse beacon. You also didn't know that aside from Billy threatening to beat up every guy who so much as flicked an eyeball towards you, your schoolmates thought you were intimidating. You didn't act all tough and cold like Billy and Max, but while you were friendly with everyone, you didn't confide in anyone either.

"I'm just joking, Eds," you told the seemingly stunned boy. You didn't want to make him think you were only hanging out with him for his weed stash. Why did you keep him around? To be honest, you'd noticed him on your first day as soon as you stepped in the cafeteria. A cool, long-haired senior holding court over a group of people in the same raglan shirts. Was that a devil printed on your shirts? Were you in a band? You started to make your way to his table with your lunch tray to check when Billy blocked your way. "Hey, Red, I got us seats at the 'cool' kids' table," he said sarcastically. You followed him, made new friends, lived your life, but two years later and he was still there, now a senior like you. You didn't run in the same social circles, and some of the people you hung out with were assholes, so you stayed away from him to avoid him being bullied even more. Honestly, getting reacquainted with Eddie was probably the only good thing that came out of everything that happened to you lately. But you couldn't tell him that and risk losing your only friend. "No one makes me laugh like you do," you said instead, running your fingers back and forth his arm hair.

Eddie shuddered inwardly at the contact and tried to brush off the awkward silence with a breathy laugh as he turned to you. "Sorry, I zoned out, I think the grass is starting to kick in." You raised an eyebrow at him but allowed it, not wanting to make things weirder than they were starting to get, instead opting to rest your head on his chest to avoid looking into his earnest brown eyes.

"Hey Eds, when you graduate this year," you said when, not if, and he noticed. "Let's leave Hawkins. I've been saving up. Let's go to California and find you a talent scout. I'd make a great groupie, you know."

Eddie stilled, letting your words wash over him, hypnotized at the thought of leaving Hawkins, at the thought of running away with you.

"Do we take Max with us?" he managed to stutter out, trying his hardest to keep his cool, like his heart wasn't hammering in his chest just thinking of the impossible being, well, probable. "She'll probably hate you forever if you leave her here."

"Yeah, of course we'll bring her," you breathed out in relief, not realizing you were holding your breath at Eddie's response. "We'll be one big happy family." He barked out a laugh, brought you closer and gave you a firm kiss on your forehead.

You looked up at him at that, and as Eddie looked back at you, he saw that you looked at him with so much trust and affection that he felt it would be selfish of him to admit his feelings to you now.

"Hey, Red," he whispered. "We're friends, right?" For a moment he saw something flicker in your eyes that faded so abruptly that he thought he imagined it. You turned your sunny smile to him and he felt his heart give a little twinge. You leaned down and brushed his cheek with a soft kiss.

"The very best," you whispered back, unknowingly mirroring each other's heartaches, you stood up, took a deep breath, and went to your bathroom, leaving a lovelorn Eddie in your wake.

[luveline]

in the morning, afternoon and night [Fred Weasley x Reader]

tags: reader-insert, hurt/comfort, self esteem issues, low self esteem, reader has acne, sad reader, insecure reader

pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

word count: 1.8k

You glared at your reflection.

You'd think with such amazing magical medicine available, some witch or wizard would've invented a cure for acne, or at least a spell that covered it up.

You'd struggled with it since your third year. The muggle doctor you'd seen with your mother had suggested it was hormonal, and would calm down as you got older.

That was years ago.

It shouldn't have been a big deal. It wasn't, really. It wasn't usually very painful, though it was itchy as a stinging nettle and twice as unsightly. A large part of you knew it wasn't your fault, that acne was something that simply affected people at different times in their lives. You'd tried topicals and changing your diet, you'd tried losing weight and exercising and dermaplaning and everything they suggested in your mams fashion magazines.

Nothing worked.

Tears welled in your eyes and you sniffed them back, blinking rapidly.

It might've been silly, but it honestly made you want to hide away. You'd skipped dinner without really thinking, finding your way into the girls bathroom you inhabited now. You straightened your tie and robes, dusting down the sides. You leaned forward again, dabbing under your eyes with your sleeve.

The last thing you wanted was for anyone to know you'd been crying, because then someone might ask why. You didn't want to talk about it, ever.

If Fred saw you like this...

You and Fred Weasley had been almost dating for a few weeks now. Almost, because you hadn't talked about the whole boyfriend/girlfriend thing yet.

It had been years of thinking he was the fittest boy in Gryffindor (besides George) and months of meeting his gaze in the corridors and catching his eye over dinner. Gradually it had become something more; he started carrying your books between classes and opening doors, touching your arms and your hair and your face.

You cringed at the memory. He had been so caring, moving to wipe an eyelash from the skin under your eye. You'd violently flinched from his hand, afraid he might feel the bumpy texture of your skin, feel the acne beneath your makeup. He'd been apologetic and a little confused, filling you with guilt. You hadn't been able to find a way to tell him it wasn't him, it was you. Of course you wanted him to touch you, the thought of him cradling your face had been the subject of many dizzy daydreams, but you just couldn't tell him this one thing.

It was your deepest insecurity.

The stress had only made it worse. Redness was easy to cover with muggle make up and even some wizarding tricks you'd learned over the years, but there wasn't a way to smooth your skin, and the acne was textured.

It was depressing. You didn't want to use that word, it felt ungrateful to compare your skin issues to something so severe, but it made you miserable.

You but down on your quivering lip, pushing away from the mirror unhappily and opening the bathroom door, a frown on your face.

"Y/N!" a familiar voice said.

You jumped, startled but unsurprised. Fred had a talent of always knowing where you were. You'd find it creepy if he wasn't so endearing.

"Fred," you said, plastering a smile over your frown. "I was just coming to find you."

"What a coincidence, ma chérie, I was doing the same."

"Well," you began, easily sidling into his space, "you found me."

"Yes, I did," Fred hummed, wrapping his arms behind your neck, grinning.

He took a long look at your face, his forehead creased. "What's wrong?"

"Nothings wrong, Fred."

He moved his hands to your shoulders, looking down into your face searchingly. "Have you been crying?" he asked.

You shook your head, lying without thinking. "Something in my eye,"

"Both of them?"

You stepped backwards. He let go of your shoulders accordingly.

"Y/N?"

"It's really nothing," you said through a forced laugh.

He frowned at you for a few seconds more and his face cleared. "Alright," he said slowly, rolling the words in his mouth, "if you say so, doll."

You opened like a blooming flower at the pet name, your whole face softening. You smiled, hoping he understood that the smile meant, oh I just so adore you, Fred Weasley.

He threaded his fingers through yours, dragging you down the corridor beside him and waxing poetic about their newest lot of Peruvian darkness powder as you went.

-

It got so bad you couldn't go to class.

Okay, so you definitely could've gone to class, but the thought of leaving your curtained bed was enough to make you sick with anxiety, so worried that everyone would see you - see your face.

NEWTs were coming fast and hard. Everyone who wanted to be anyone was working hard studying their asses of, on top of Professor Umbridge's million new rules you had to abide by, including her newest life-ruining rule: Boys and girl are not to be within 5 inches of each other.

What a joke. You struggled through classes, wrote essays so long your hand burned at night and now you weren't allowed to sit next to your almost boyfriend at lunch? It was miserable. It was making you miserable, and now you may as well have sharpied on your forehead how equipped your body was to deal with it.

Fucking badly.

You groaned to yourself, rolling on your side to face the wall. You were at your wits end. It felt endlessly unfair that the thing that was stressing you out most was getting worse from stress.

Your stomach growled hungrily.

You threw your arm over your eyes in defeat, eyes finally filling with tears. You felt so hopeless. There was nothing to be done except keep up your routine until the flare up was over, or until your mothers next 'miracle cure' popped into existence.

The tears felt too hot against your sore skin. You couldn't help but sob quietly to yourself in self-pity.

A knock sounded at the door. You gasped, wiping the tears away in panic.

"Y/N?" It was Alicia. "Are you alright? Can I come in?"

"Yes," you managed. "Yes, of course. It's your room too, after all."

The door clicked open. Alicia appeared, tanned skin completely clear and glowing, though each perfect feature was marred with empathy. "Fred's been begging every girl in the common room to come fetch you, but I told him to leave you be."

"Thank you," you said.

You cleared your throat. Alicia moved her weight from foot to foot, twisting her hands.

"I- Y/N. I won't pretend to know how it feels, but I promise you, Fred won't care. He's beside himself worrying that you're bedridden and dying or-" she laughed to herself, "or that you're still mad at him for the itching powder. What I mean is... he's a good guy, and you're upset. Maybe you should tell him what's wrong. He won't care."

You sniffed. "I know," you admitted, feeling the weight of her shifting the bed. "I know he's a great guy. I just wouldn't blame him if he, if he didn't like me anymore. If he found it ugly. I would understand it, and I think that makes it worse," you choked on your words, heat building behind your eyes.

"Oh, Y/N," Alicia said, placing a tentative but comforting hand on your shoulder.

You lay in quiet, listening to your own ragged breathing.

"I'll go talk to him," Alicia said.

"No! I mean, no. Thank you, but no. I... I'll speak to him myself."

Alicia nodded, rubbing your arm kindly.

The sound of the door clicking shut behind her finally spurred you into sitting up. You dressed in a hurry, chucking a wool jumper over last nights pyjamas.

He wouldn't care, would he? You cringed. Yes, he definitely would. Whatever was between you would stop. He'd have the grace to let you down slowly, drawing away his affections. He was a polite guy, he'd probably even say the whole spiel of "it's not you, it's me". But he would, eventually.

Well, you figured. Let it be quick. Like ripping off a bandaid.

You tread lightly down the steps, hoping to see him before he saw you.

Of course, when the slightest groan on the bottom step sounded, his lovely face whipped to meet yours. He smiled in relief, but it was mixed with something else. Disgust, your brain supplied nastily. He was disgusted. He rose to his feet, smiling smiling smiling. But something in his eyes was different, now.

"Y/N," he said.

"Hi," you said.

"Hi yourself, beautiful. Where've you been all day?"

"I'm... sick. Bad cold," you settled on.

He raised an eyebrow. "You sound okay," he said, not unkindly.

"I..." you looked down at your hands.

A siren was sounding in your head. You didn't think Fred had seen you without make up for the last 3 years. Fight or flight was leaning heavily towards flight.

"Well, are you hungry?"

You shook your head.

"Are you sure? You haven't eaten all day. You need something in your system if you're gonna fight this cold."

"I'm not actually sick, Fred," you admitted under your breath.

"I know."

You looked up. He was still smiling kindly. It was infuriating.

"Look," you said finally, rushed and all at once, "if you don't want to- if you're grossed out. Then it's fine, I'll understand if you don't want to see me anymore."

Fred was stricken.

"I know it's - ugly."

"Ugly? Nothing about you is ugly."

"Fred, my face-"

"No, listen to me, Y/N. It's not ugly. It's not gross. You're not any of those things, are you kidding?" he said, grabbing your hands. "You're beautiful. All the time, in the morning, afternoon and night. You're beautiful in charms and transfiguration and care of magical creatures. You were beautiful yesterday and you're beautiful today and you'll be even more so tomorrow." He stopped suddenly, looking down at your joined hands. His cheeks had turned bright red.

"Smooth, Freddie," came George's voice, from the sofa behind them.

"Shove OFF," exclaimed Fred, growing more red by the second. Heat filled your own cheeks.

"It's skin, Y/N. That's all it is."

"Okay," you said tightly, trying not to cry.

Fred breathed out, his hair shifting in response. His corded arms pulled you tight to his chest. You breathed him in. He smelled sweet and rough, like burning caramel.

He thought you were beautiful.

You smiled into his shirt.

<3<3<3

tag list: @msmimimerton

if you’d like to be added to a tag list, please ask ! for in general or for specific characters, i don’t mind

[squeak-the-cat18]

Since im bored and have nothing else to do : more song quotes!!

(Tw because most of these are sad/depressing)

(Also none belong to me credit goes to the respective artist)

I'm drowning in your memory but it is all that I have left

Don't tell me if I'm dying, cause I don't want to know.

Do you care about all the little things, or anything at all?

I wanna sunburn just to know I'm that I'm alive

If I can't see the sun maybe I should go.

Don't wake me cause I'm dreaming of angels on the moon.

Did you know that every day is the first of the rest of your life

This is to one last day in the shadows and to know a brothers love

Tell me all your thoughts about the stars that fill polluted skys

How did you love?

It was almost love, when I heard that sound and the walls came down I was thinking about you.

Its not what you believe, those prayers will make you bleed

Time will take us all and turn us into stone

Her hands tell the story of hardships that we'll never know

How did you love?

How we forget ourselves from the cradle to the grave

We are the judge and jury

I drove for miles just to find you and myself

Its not your fault im a bitch, I'm a monster

Sure as the sunrise shes seen things you'll never see

I can't let her go.

Please don't go most nights i hardly sleep when I'm alone

I think of you whenever I'm alone

Would anyone care? would anyone cry if I finally stepped of the ledge tonight?

Would anything change? Would you all be just fine? cause I need a reason to not throw the fight

It just might save my life.

Home, a place where i can go and take this off my shoulders.

I wont to lie so hard to hide I've never felt worthy of love, I would give up everything I had just to feel good enough.

Someone take me home.

Tell me why the world never fights fair

Shes still here fighting, better know there's life in her yet

Tell me how all my dreams turned to nightmares, how did I loose it  when I was right there

Just to get to a place where even though there's no closer,  I'm still safe

I found no cure for the loneliness, I found no cure for the sickness.

I'm 11 minutes away so why arent you here?

Would anyone notice if tonight I disappeared? Would anyone chase me, and say the words i need to hear that im no burden, not so worthless

I would sell my soul for a bit more time

You swear to god but I'm a nonbeliever

So tell me when it kicks in

This is how it ends, I can feel the chemicals burn in my bloodstream

Would anyone want me if they knew what was inside my head?

No no don't leave me lonely now, if you love me how'd you never learn

All the voices in my mind calling out across the line

Your losing faith while I've been holding on.

It leaves us with regrets and picks apart the threads of over fragile bones.

Tell me pretty lies, look me in the face tell me that you love me even if its fake

We were blessed by the breath deep inside of us

Give me the strength to look the devil in the face and make it home safe

Playing dead I'll never do, gotta keep an eye on you

Promises broken again

Would anyone see me for the person I really am?

Take a hit shoot me down I will never hit the ground

Put an X on my chest, but I'm still standing cause I wont forget all the hell you put me through, I'll save myself in spite of you

This time I wont let go

When you go down all your darkest roads, I would have followed all the way to the graveyard

I keep digging myself down deeper, I wont stop til I get where you are

Trying to find the root of all that's come between us

White flag, never going up no no

Don't you know I'm aint afraid to shed a little blood

Id rather die than give up the fight

You look at me with eyes so dark I don't know how you even see

I'm good, I'm good, I'm great.

Ain't that my blue in her eyes?

Where everyone you know never leaves too soon

Too many years of battle scares and now we're broken

But while your on your knees how did you love?

Don't take her from me

Don't wanna see her grow to be just like you

But it only feeds my energy

I'm chasing dragons, this dragon's got my hand

Sweet love, my oldest friend, have we come to the bitter end

This time don't you save me, baby I can feel myself giving up

But I dont see so easily what you hold in your hands.

Pray for my soul

Those eyes tell nothing of a soul that is spent, a soul that's longing for death

[criminalmindsgonewrong]

watching The Tigger Movie with faby:

me: "why is he so little? pigs are huge?" faby: "HE'S A LET. A PIG. LET."

"OMG i get it! KANGA ROO! i never put it together until now"

"tigger is my favourite he's so bouncy and so excited to live"

"now this motherfucker is annoying" (about rabbit)

"nah he ate with this technique" (about tigger's bouncing)

"(kanga) is such a milf"

"i would be that motherfucker (piglet) in this world. that's how short i am"

"you guys are so mean to tigger"

(about owl) "it's giving rossi"

*tigger puts 100 ice cubes into his tea* "me in england for the first time"

"here's the thing though. if they're all tiggers, what's his name? it's like if my name was human."

"he literally fucking steals from the bees what a fucking capitalist"

"why didn't they sting him ok plot armour"

"i wish my bed was hexagonal"

"oh he has seasonal depression maybe i should send him the twitter thread"

"omg this cured my depression."

***imagine everything from this point onwards through tears***

"omg he made a cake. he's so excited"

"i hate this movie"

"okay shakespeare"

"they're dressed like tiggers and you're looking at stuffed animals?"

"stop i literally cannot watch this."

"who came up with this plot i just wanna talk"

"no there's a storm don't go outside!"

tigger: "ttfe. tata for ever" faby, through tears: "noooo not forever forever is one word bestie"

pooh: "poor tigger all alone in the cold" faby: "and you guys aren't even fucking looking for him he could be fucking dying of frostbite"

"why is the child the only one doing anything he's literally three years old"

"why did you make me watch this"

"why are you staring at me? because i'm crying?"

"can you tell i have family issues"

"i love how he thinks families live in a tree, like a family tree. that's so cute"

*fully sobbing* "no he's crying. no. i'm gonna kill myself"

"where is roos mom? she's never there. she lets him go off and do things like be in an avalanche by himself. i love how all of them just let him go..."

"bouncing besties"

"ok slay obstacle course. 10/10"

"omg my head hurts from all of the crying"

"as if he could die he's a stuffed animal"

tigger: "you fellas are my family?" faby: "yes bitch thats the whole point of the movie"

*about roo* "he wants a gift too bitch (tigger) like where is his gift"

"ITS THE LOCKET I KNEW IT"

"no i cant watch the credits i cant"

"that was emotionally exhausting but in a good way. in a fulfilling way"

cry count: it was pretty constant tbh x

@lil-koala i love you <3

[kirindensetsu]

The Making of Fubuki

((Reposting from Den of Angels workshop thread because I wanted my friends to be able to see~))

After years of pining after dolls I couldn't afford as a broke teenager, my first BJD was a Bobobie Sprite I purchased for my 18th birthday. Unfortunately, she didn't live up to my expectations and I never really bonded with her. Her face was cute enough, but the Bobobie body lacked the grace and posing ability I imagined for the Unseelie faerie I'd been daydreaming of for years. Sueding and wiring didn't help, blushing and tattooing highlighted her blockiness, it was a mess. I packed her away and tried not to think about my disappointment for 12 years. In the meantime I learned to build and paint resin garage kits, inherited one of my sister's dolls, bought some others, took anatomy & physiology in college, and did a couple extensive restorations and full-body modifications. I was sure I had thrown her away at some point as a failed project, but last weekend I found her tucked away in a doll bag I thought was empty. Having just finished substantial mods on a Dollshe body, and awaiting an unfinished Unoa kit for my birthday in September, I decided that I owed it to her to try again. Doll nudity below the cut, looooong post--

My Sprite was originally going to be a pooka with golden eyes and extensive woad tattoos. The golden eyes are incredible, so those are staying, but she's now going to be a blue oni to fit in with the rest of my collection. My plan is to do extensive additive epoxy work, and then to use Krylon Fusion to give everything a unified finish. The goal of the project is to reduce the... idk, STRAIGHTNESS of the old Bobobie body. I was never going to be happy with it, the lines were all far too rigid.

Head: Modified mouth for a wider, smirking smile. Magnets added to headcap (old Bobobie used an S-hook iirc; I did this part back in 2008). Forehead drilled for 3mm brass rod armature, and epoxy used to sculpt horns over rod. Bust: Substantial subtractive modifications to breasts, which involved removal and readdition of nipples. Addition of epoxy clay to back and shoulders to give a more curved body line in profile. Deepening of shoulder sockets with 18mm eye bevel, followed by sanding to make shoulders narrower. Waist: Reshaping of upper torso joint into sphere for smoother range of motion. Subtraction of resin in back and addition of epoxy in front to enhance lumbar curve. Hips: Substantial reshaping of lower waist seam to more naturally follow the pelvic girdle. It reminded me of granny panties before  Added epoxy to butt, again for lumbar curve. Thighs: Suwariko joint mod (cut the thigh and added a PVC insert to enable swivelling at the hip). Added epoxy to make her thighs look less straight. Calves: Removed 1cm of length at the ankles and rebevelled the socket. Removed resin at the ankles to bring them in, and added epoxy at the calves to make them curvier. Feet: Sculpted little claws, which were cute, and then decided the feet needed to be 5mm longer. Cut across, drilled and pinned with brass rod for structural strength, gap filled with epoxy clay. I also modded her feet to have defined arches and balls back when I first got her. Alas, spitting into the ocean. I added S-hooks, but did so by drilling the ankle and inserting brass rod to form the axle for the hook. Arms: The proportions on her upper arms BOTHERED me! they were so SHORT! and I only just figured out that's what I hated about them last week! I added 5mm to the upper arms by cutting them in the middle and using SteelStik to make a structural repair (plumber's epoxy putty has a shorter open time but far greater structural strength than artist's epoxy clay). Sanded the heck out of the wrists to give them a more delicate taper. Hands: Beyond salvage. The hands were my least-favorite part of this sculpt. I tried to bulk them up to look less spidery but it was just too difficult... I've ordered a different pair of MSD hands which will have claws added, and then when everything is painted it'll all match. Thanks for reading this far! Here's a preview of what her golden eyes look like next to Krylon Fusion in Antique Blue.

((first progress post)) I think I'm mostly done adding epoxy clay (at least where it'll show; presumably the wrist sockets will require tweaks to fit the new hands), so now it's time for finish sanding. I start with 60 grit for shaping, then switch to a 120 grit sanding sponge. To check for scratches, pinholes, and inadequately feathered edges, I apply a wash of diluted acrylic paint. Once the paint has dried, I scrub the piece with a nylon scouring pad. Paint remains in the surface irregularities.

All sanded with 220 grit. I don't think I'll be going higher than 400 because I want there to be some tooth for the paint.

Any pitting in the epoxy clay that can't be sanded out is marked with a Sharpie and will be patched with Tamiya spot putty.

I did a test spray of the Krylon Fusion on the headcap and it's fantastic! Holy cow is it *poisonous* tho, I'm used to working with volatile chemicals but this was something else. Get OUT OF THE AREA between coats and leave it outside until it stops outgassing, not just until it's ready to handle.

This test piece is four light coats sprayed 1 minute apart, allowed to cure for 4 hours, and then wetsanded to remove the spray texture. It's pretty sturdy but I will wait several more days to see how it continues to cure before experimenting with matte sealants. ((progress update 2))

Haven't done much but sand-and-fill-and-sand-and-fill, but my 14mm beveller came in today so I can start deepening her elbow and ankle sockets. Added some epoxy clay to the insides of the eyewells so 14mm eyes will fit with no gap. I need a needle file to clean up the corners of her mouth... Monster feets! Nails on the right came out better than the left, still need to feather-sand everything.

Elbows progress. The early Bobobie elbows are I guess /technically/ double-jointed because the joint is a sphere with two slots, but I thought I could do better than that. You can see epoxy clay spliced in to make the sphere into a peanut: this isn't a structurally sound repair unless you pop it apart and drill/pin/glue-epoxy it back together.

View from the back. By keeping the joint heads spherical with no elbow-shaped detailing, there's some rotation as well as flexion, which I like.

Touching her face with one of her old hands. I hope the new ones come soon!

((progress update 4))

In good news, these parts are all ready for paint! It's really hard to do prepwork with no filler primer, hope I didn't miss any spots...

In less good news, her new hands arrived and they are... very smol ;u; I forgot that the new trend for slim minis means that everyone has TINY LITTLE HANDS.

They are, however, beautifully sculpted and a good 3D reference for what needs fixing and how. Bobobie palm is very short relative to fingers: I made a transverse cut behind the knuckles and added epoxy to lengthen More curved volume across the back of the hand: Not necessarily realistic, but looks a little cuter, plus it makes the transition into the cylinder of the wrist look less stylistically jarring. More defined joint angles: Some of these I did via cut-and-thermoform repositioning, mostly I'm aiming to fake it by building up and carving away at the weird smooth curves. The fingers are just TOO SKINNY: But obviously I'm not going to squish rice-grain-sized blobs of epoxy to the fingers, right? It's too fiddly, it doesn't want to stick. What's the solution? Brace for a truly hideous WIP image--

"AAAAAAGH WHAT IS THAT DARK GRAY MESS" it's JB Weld epoxy! It's like load-bearing, slow-curing modeller's putty! Slathering putty onto an armature and then carving it away to refine the shape is how anime figure artists make hands and detailed hair.  I was thinking about it from a polymer clay technique/perspective so I missed the obvious solution. Hand in the foreground has more layers than the hand in the background, every layer gets the shape a lil closer. ((progress post 5)) Parts set up on sticks so I can handle them without touching...

... and after 4 light coats!

Closeup of the head, lil' glossy because it's still drying. For the deeper areas like the joint slots, mouth, and the crannies of the ears, I'm going to have to decant some of the paint into a jar and apply it with a sacrificial brush.

((progress post 6)) I return from Depression! I finally finished sanding-and-spraying the Krylon Fusion coats, gave her a last polish with microfine to even out the texture, and have started blushing her. I'm using a mixture of Tamiya X-series acrylics applied via airbrush for basic contouring, then I'll go back in with pastel to add warm tones and details.

Fun discovery: in an attempt to cover some accidental overspray, I tried spraying the Fusion directly into the paint cup of the airbrush and using it to "erase" back to the base color. I'm NEVER using this product straight from the can again, it goes on so smooth and gorgeous from the airbrush! No orange peel or bubbles to sand away. I'm seriously tempted to get a can of pink and try blushing with it.

((progress post 7)) Doing a faceup over a spray-painted substrate is HARD I want to CRY. I talked about sanding out the spray texture to get an untextured surface, right? Welp, didn't/couldn't sand well enough in the corners of the mouth and the folds of the eyelids, so it's crusty-looking with pastels over it and now there's nothing I can do about it that doesn't involve stripping down to resin and starting again.

((final post)) Sueded and strung!

I didn't take pictures of the sueding process because I was using Barge Cement and it is messy and time-sensitive. I used masking tape to make templates of her joints, transferred to some thin gray lamb suede I found on eBay, and glued it fuzzy side out. The suede was thicker than real pliver, more like the thickness of silicone KIPS discs, but I think it worked out without too many fit issues. The trim store had 3.5mm elastic in a beautiful slate-blue color that I thought would look nicer in the joint slots, so she's strung throughout with thicker elastic. Some more poses to show off the functional mods~ Suwariko joints let her sit crosslegged, and more mobile wrists let her put her hands into the pose.

A more ball-and-socked shaped contact surface at her waist lets her slouch at a full range of angles instead of being locked into two.

With longer upper arms, she can reach the ground in this pose! You can also see how the modded waist joint lets her cock her hips.

She could always stand with locked knees. I think she needs some wire in her legs to let the suwariko joints hold their rotation against gravity, but I'll see how the elastic tension settles in first.

A parting shot out the snowy window. We've been having a hard time picking between a few names for her, but I think this settles it. Welcome back, Fubuki~

[capsized-heart]

Sky Castles

Pairing: Laurie x Reader, Jo x Reader

Summary: Summer has always been your favorite season in Plumfield. Perhaps it’s the lovely, sunny mornings and cool, calm nights, or perhaps it’s the fact that you and Laurie and Jo are practically inseparable in midsummer. 

Follows the summers from childhood into young adulthood, with turmoils of the heart along the way.   

Word count: 6.1k+

Warnings: fluff!!!!!!!!

A/N: hi, everyone. I hope you’re all staying safe and well! Right off the bat, I want to mention that I’ve pinned a post on both this blog and my main blog @sarapii-peachy​ about resources for the BLM movement to raise awareness and petitions you can sign to help make a difference on a smaller scale. Everything counts!

i’m back and now with a bachelor’s degree :’) class of 2020 high school and college esketit!!! we did it!!! in this historic pandemic!!! Sorry I’ve been gone for a bit, this fic has been my rocky transition/attempt out of writer’s block after my INSANE last semester of uni and with all the craziness going on in the world. I hope you can channel and take in some of this innocent happiness and childhood glee into your own lives as we navigate the shitshow that is 2020. Saoirse x Timmy x Reader here to cure me of my depression lmao

this title is also based off a chapter in the Little Women book where Laurie, Jo, and the girls go to a park and gaze at the passing clouds and talk about their futures...it’s honestly really sweet. Loosely based off of that! 

Comments and feedback would be greatly appreciated on this💛! Not that you guys don’t leave love, but this fic like I mentioned is my attempt at kicking writer’s block in the ass, please let me know how I did! :) talk to me I missed you guys :)

tags: @ravenmoore14 @monikakrasnorada @dangertoozmanykids101 @toozmanykids​ @adawn1970​ @mrchalamet-mrstyles @chavezlikesthings @loveylangdon@daygiowvibe @statisticlytimmy @ceexreverse​ @bamposworld​ @lilttletimmy​ @cindere-llaaa​

gif credit to @sheisraging​

You love New England for its rich, distinct seasons, how they each paint the countryside in eloquent sweeps of shade and hue. Snow, sun, and breathtaking landscapes of fall color that tinge the treetops throughout the year. You love Plumfield, Massachusetts more for the warmth and love the March sisters have shown you, each alike in personality, nature, to the equinoxes that have shaped your girlhood, each tender memory from your youth synonymous with Meg, Amy, Beth, and Jo. 

 Autumn. Cozy and comfortable, where motherly Meg showed you how to heat and dip caramel with the apples you’d carefully picked from the orchard for a rare treat, the kitchen swirling with the aroma of cinnamon, nutmeg, turmeric, and spices that left you feeling aglow. She’d taught you how to use an embroidery hoop, how to let dough rise, how to bake a proper pie and how to fix any clothing tear with a simple needle and thread, her compliments quick for your ever growing domestic talents. 

Winter. Like cool, ambitious Amy with her painting and taste for luxury and pleasure, how she would praise you for being the only subject suitable for her artwork. Laurie would moan and complain about sitting for hours by the fireside, begging to be excused to go play in the snow, but never you. Amy called you her muse, arranging your hair and skirts to her liking, softening your lips and cheeks with a touch of rouge. It was always such fun to make a day out of modeling for Amy’s portraits, talking and laughing as she’d set up her paints.

Spring. Sweet and angelic like little Beth, windows wide open as her piano trills would float on the warm air, curtains ruffling in the breeze. You’d sit beside her on the piano bench and turn her sheet music for her, to which Beth would give you a shy, rosy smile in thanks. She taught you how to play Chopin and Tchaikovsky, duet pieces where you’d accompany her on the keys, harmonizing with chords and your fingers flying easily together.

Summer. Your favorite season, refreshing, bright, where you and Jo would spend balmy days and long, cool evenings tucked beneath the shade of tree trunks and willows as you’d read in the sun, listen to Jo’s carefully crafted stories. Her creativity and imagination never failed to amaze you, how her writing could transport you to the farthest countries, or keep you grounded in whatever fantastical setting she’d constructed for herself. She’d often write about the two of you; two young girls, best friends who’d have all sorts of dazzling adventures exploring the corners of the world, without the taxing responsibilities of chores, or schoolwork, or the foreboding, inevitable reality that one day you will be young adults and childhood would be gone forever. You’d have picnics and excursions to the nearby fields, dozing in the sun and picking wildflowers, splashing and wading through the rivers and creeks when the heat became unbearable. Before Laurie would come and spoil your fun, of course. Then, you and Jo and Laurie would be like three rowdy boys playing in the woods, your laughter echoing off the trees and sparkling waters. 

You first meet Theodore Laurence as a young girl in the fields connecting the March’s property and your own. You live just down the road from the March sisters, your house tucked away beyond the bend and you’d make the trek across the meadow and grasses daily to visit your neighbors. Being an only child with your father off fighting for the Union, the March house was like your second home and the girls and Marmee and Hannah always made you feel like part of the family, your own loneliness long forgotten as soon as you’d step through the door and you’d be welcomed back with laughter, squeals, and embraces.

Today, you are seeking the company of your friends as usual, returning a book Jo had lended you with a basketful of scones you’d baked in repayment. A recipe you’d learned from Meg. The autumn air is surprisingly warm against your skin, indian summer, flushed and golden and dappling the plains. It makes you smile softly, your mood pleasant as you gather your skirts in time with your step, adjust your basket. 

Then, you see him. A boy making his way in the same direction, dressed smartly in a black woolen coat and matching trousers, a silk scarf tastefully tied around his throat. His curls are windswept and tousled, his gait relaxed. He feels your gaze and looks up, eyes finding yours and the corner of his mouth ticks up in a friendly smile. Warmth floods your cheeks. You quickly duck your head.

He looks to be your age, but you’ve read tales of highwaymen and bandits roaming the countryside, how they’d feign kindness, only to strike unsuspecting travelers. Perhaps it was the work of Jo’s overactive and contagious imagination playing at your nerves, but why was he heading towards the March’s? You think of little Beth, how boys and newcomers made her nervous, timid. Your resolve hardens protectively. You have to keep this stranger away from the girls. 

Your pulse hammers in your throat as you lift your head to see the boy still looking your way. He waves his hand in greeting. 

“Hello!” he cheers. 

With your eyes still locked, you pick up your pace and keep your silence. Curiously, the boy finds this amusing, laughing, making it into a game as he too begins to walk briskly towards the house, of who will reach the door first. You narrow your eyes, summoning as much hostility and wickedness to your expression, demeanor as you can muster. The two of you are running now, his grin wide and eager, your own mouth twisted with hard concentration as you race each other.

Your chest is heaving when you brace yourself against the doorframe, blocking his way with your arm, back against the wood. He’s not a second behind you and is already on the stoop when you turn to face him.

“Are you Jo’s friend?” the boy asks you with a breathless, easy smile. “You’re quite fast, even faster than her.” He adds. He’s practically bouncing on his feet, jovial and buzzing with energy. The mention of Jo’s name curbs your distrust further. Bandit may now be off the table, and the thought makes you feel a bit foolish now, but how could Jo befriend such a strange boy without you knowing? How did he already seem to know who you are? 

Up close, you notice his eyes are green and mischievous, reflecting back the shimmering plains in flecks of amber as he gazes at you, your pulse fluttering ever so slightly…

You scold yourself internally. 

Handsome or not, he was undoubtedly a boy of trouble who had somehow won over Jo’s attention. And no easy feat, might you add. Headstrong and resolute, Jo’s circle of friends was quite small outside of you and her sisters, and you liked it that way. You’d like to keep it that way as well. 

You feel a sharp, ugly pang of jealousy curl in your stomach. You stick out your lower lip in a pout, turn up your nose in a way that would certainly earn a scolding from Marmee if she were to see your impoliteness. 

“Who are you to ask?” You snap.

Your words do not take the desired effect on him. Instead of hurt, or embarrassment, the boy smirks at you, amused. He cocks his head to one side and leans back on his heels, studying you like you’d just asked him why the sky is blue. His mood is breezy, amiable. 

“I’m Laurie. Is that better?” he offers with a comical pout of his own. You wrinkle your nose. This boy was starting to irritate you more and more.

“Surname?”

“Laurence.”

“Laurie Laurence? My, how silly and dull.”

He laughs, a low and pleasant sound that threatens to melt your angry facade. He shakes his head, hands in his pockets. 

“It’s a pet name. Jo calls me Teddy, but you may call me whichever you like,” he says. Your jealousy burns brighter, flushing your skin, twisting together with a hint of desire and yearning. 

You were once Jo’s everything, her favorite companion. She made this clear with how she’d tell you plainly, how she’d spoil you with compliments and stories and affection. And now, it seemed Jo knew another, this Laurie, well enough to call him Teddy when you had no pet name of your own. She seemed to speak of you, which would explain Laurie’s cordiality, but did she tell him how you were the only one she felt comfortable enough with to critique her writing? How she would encourage your aspirations of becoming a dancer by arranging the foyer into a stage and cheering for you while sitting atop the staircase like an admirer in the box seats? How the two of you could jest and play for hours with nothing but your imagination, crying from laughter until your bellies ached?

You feel a sense of betrayal and heartache at this, an intrusion, a tirade of emotions you can’t quite explain. Did you want Jo all for yourself? Did you want to befriend Laurie as well? Did you just want to be someone’s everything again and to be doted on and loved? 

Then, Laurie’s voice tapers into a quiet hum, a touch of softness. You hear the first indication of bashfulness as he looks down at you through full, dark lashes. “I hope the three of us can be good friends. I’d like to know you as well.” He murmurs. 

You don’t know what to think of him. Your chest feels tight and your cheeks burn, from anger or passion you can’t quite tell. You’re contemplating leaving your basket on the doorstep and shoving past him to go back home when you suddenly hear a clamor of voices and the turning of the knob and then the door falls open behind you. 

Laurie catches you before you can tumble through the entryway, hands finding your waist. Jo, vibrant and chipper as ever, lights up when she sees you and her sky blue eyes shine like glass. She has her cap fitted over her wavy blonde curls, skipping into your arms and for a moment you’re sandwiched between the two of them. You flush scarlet. 

“Oh, good! You two have met. Goodbye, Marmee! I’m going out!” Jo calls into the house, her voice overlapping with her sisters’ as they all greet you in a burst of chaos. But before Jo can usher you outside, you feel your childish temper flare and you squirm out of her reach and back through the open door and into the house. You set your basket onto the table, turning to hide your face in Amy’s shoulder with a flutter of your skirts as you feel the hot sting of tears prickle your eyes. You weren’t going to let this Laurie boy see you cry upon your first encounter.

“I’m not coming.” You mumble. Amy’s hand comes to soothingly pet back your hair with a hush of surprise and you sense her look to Jo with a characteristic glare.

“Jo, what have you done?” Amy presses.

“I’ve done nothing!” Jo retorts with a huff. Then, her voice turns gentle, curious as she speaks to you. “Dear, what’s the matter?”

“She wouldn’t be on the verge of tears if you hadn’t done nothing, would she?” Amy replies. You laugh weakly, tightening your arms around her. “See?” Amy says. “You’ve broken her heart, the poor thing.” 

“Jo’s made new friends,” you sniffle, embarrassed when Laurie’s eyes meet yours. Amy’s arms around you make you feel comforted and safe, brave enough to voice your true burdens when you say, “I’ve been replaced,” and gaze back at Laurie in defiance, protest. He frowns and shifts his weight, looking genuinely sorry with a guilt that touches his eyes. Good, you think. Let him think twice before stealing away your best companion. 

At this, Jo’s expression softens with understanding and warmth as she sees you curl into Amy once more. Jo takes a step into the open doorway, leaving Laurie on the stoop.

“No one could ever replace you, dear,” she says. “I only keep Laurie around for when I’m bored and you aren’t around to play. Look at him,” she gestures in his direction. “He’s aloof and vain, he’s lazy, he doesn’t have an ounce of the imagination you do-” 

“Don’t forget arrogant.” Amy pipes up.

Jo nods, wagging a finger at her sister. “Right you are, Amy. We mustn't forget that.”

Laurie starts to puff up with a temper, his lips twisting together and you can see him struggling with whether to speak up and defend himself, or let the girls have their fun for your sake. Jo goes on, saying he was devious and too pretty for his own good, making you and Amy giggle as she rubs soothing circles into your back. It’s rather polite and charming as you watch Laurie suffer silently, biting his tongue as Jo continues to defame his character before she finally turns back to you.

“I should have introduced the two of you properly, and for that, I’m sorry,” says Jo. “You must have had quite the surprise running into him.” Laurie again glances to you with an apologetic softness, wringing his hands together. “So, what do you think, Teddy? Are we ready to start afresh?” Jo asks him, hands on her hips. 

This makes you laugh, bubbly, your mood perking up as you finally lift your head from Amy’s shoulder. Of course, Jo would be able to comprehend your grievances and somehow peg Laurie with the blame, how she knew your heart was delicate and tender and so full of devotion that you were quick to hold grudges. Your envy dissipates and you feel a bit sorry seeing Laurie now in such low spirits, his theatrical demeanor now quiet and modest. 

“If she’ll have me,” Laurie murmurs, glancing up at you with such a pureness in his glittering eyes that regret starts to settle in your stomach.

“And I’ve written more of that story you enjoyed so much,” Jo holds out a hand to you. “Won’t you come hear what happens next?” she asks. Slowly, like the pull of a magnet, you untangle yourself from Amy’s arms and cross the room to take Jo’s outstretched hand. 

“Alright.” You say at last. Jo beams and cradles your face with her other hand, swiping away your tears with her thumb. You let her baby you like she would with Beth, enjoying her touch against your cheek. 

“That’s my sweet girl.” She smiles.

You then look to a sheepish Laurie and extend a hand, filled with new courage. You tell him your name and echo back his words that you hope the three of you can indeed become good friends, that you and Jo could do well with another acquaintance. The smile Laurie gives you is genuine, sweet and gentle, the corner of his mouth turning up in crooked delight. He clasps your hand warmly.

“I would want nothing more.” Laurie laughs. 

And with that, nestled between Jo and Laurie, you step back outside into the rich and golden light of a warm autumn afternoon, curious, excited for what adventures the day will bring you. 

**

Laurie joins your duo swimmingly and the rest of the year passes in pleasant tranquility as the three of you spend nearly every waking moment by each others’ sides. All Hallow’s Eve finds you dressed in a costume of French royalty, a pompous and comical gown of ballooning fabrics, complete with a powdered wig of pins and curls. You’ve painted your face with overlined lips and the trademark mole below your eye and the March sisters double over with laughter as you enter the foyer, fluttering your paper fan with an aristocratic pout, Laurie saluting your entrance with a roar of, la plus belle fille du monde! Jo is dressed as a fearsome pirate, outfitted in boots, breeches, and a captain’s hat, the wooden sword you and Laurie helped to paint swishing through the air as she parades into the room. Laurie enters last with a bang and a flash of white powder, appearing before your eyes in true magician fashion with a top hat and cane, a false mustache pasted onto his upper lip. All six of you then march across the field to the Laurence residence, now alight with carved pumpkins and lanterns, for your All Hallow’s Eve party of sweets and games.

Christmas brings festivities, flurries, and cheer. Sledding, ice skating, days of cold and winter fun making snow angels and snowmen, decorating the March house with holly, mistletoe, culminating into a hearty turkey dinner as you sit perched next to Laurie. The candlelight is homely, the sound of laughter and clinking silverware washing over you and you catch Laurie’s eye as he lifts his fork to his mouth. The two of you grin, leaning into each other with quiet happiness, heads bowed. You and Laurie both mirror each other in being only children, meaning these times together have been filled with welcome camaraderie. Where your instances of yearning for the companionship of siblings that only those without can understand, you’ve found company in each other, never a dull moment, never lonely. 

The thaw of spring keeps you tucked away indoors with torrents of rain pelting against the roof. Jo reads to you aloud from her novel, asking for your thoughts every so often as you and Laurie lounge on the sofa. When you articulate a point of slight critique on Jo’s use of character, Laurie teasingly tugs on a lock of your hair with a smirk. 

“How perceptive.” He murmurs, grinning.

You swat his hand away, glaring at him in mock anger. 

And as the days grow warmer, so does your heart. You’ve learned to share your affection between Laurie and Jo in a way you think is equally matched and that autumn day where you’d been so sour to both of them seems like ages ago. Soon after that incident, your bravado had quickly morphed into appreciation and Jo had been eager to break the ice between you and Laurie. And like all children, your differences and jealousy had been set aside as you’d discovered he was quite fun to be around. Laurie shared Jo’s quick wit and intelligence, like an androgynous mirror, so much of yourself also reflected in both of them in time and they in you. And yet, Laurie had a certain charm about him; how he could have the two of you in stitches and still maintain the air of sophistication that was so often expected of the Laurence boy. Admittedly, you were thrilled to have them both as your best and favorite playmates. 

In turn, they had done the same, showering you with loving attention and teasing, keeping you entertained with their bickering, quarreling over how they both wanted to occupy your time with their respective ideas for sport. Fighting over you. The thought of it makes you blush furiously. Yet, you feel cared for, like the most precious thing in their lives.You’ve also selfishly enjoyed being the apple of their eye and all the privileges that has bestowed; Jo writing you into her stories, featuring you as a beautiful sugar plum fairy, and Laurie promising to write you a French ballet, to someday whisk you off to Europe to experience high art and culture. 

At last, spring turns to summer and the three of you are back to mischief and horseplay in the great outdoors. The days are lush, agreeable, bright and pleasant with flashing sunshine and lofty clouds. You’re again reminded why summer to you is synonymous with Jo as you run together through the waving fields bursting with flowers, Laurie right on your heels as he too gives chase. 

“Jo! We were only kidding about the toads!” Laurie calls out from behind you. “It’s not like I have one in my pocket this very moment who’s squirming to get free and might have bitten me earlier when I caught him by the river and-”

He gives a shout of surprise and you hear his footfalls pause in the grasses. You and Jo both turn, breathless, already laughing when you see Laurie hopping about like hot coals are burning beneath his feet.

A small pond frog wiggles out of his pocket seam with a croak and then disappears into the meadow, waddling with great speed. With out-turned pockets and wrinkled trousers, Laurie stands there with his hands on his hips, confidence and humor masking his faults as always.

“My, they grow up so fast, don’t they?” Laurie says as he looks out over the crest of the hill with a humorous glint in his eyes, like a mother watching her child leave for the vast, cruel world. You and Jo collapse into a fit of giggles, holding each other upright by the shoulders and gasping for air.

**

Eternal summer and sun, a tender paradise. And as midsummer arrives, so does the heat. It’s stifling, heavy, the kind that suffocates and forbids any excessive movement or play, when being idle is perfectly acceptable, a rarity for you three young adventurers. Today, even nature herself seems to be drowsy from the stifling weather. Sunflowers droop from the weight of honeybees as they float lazily over the fields. Birds chortle from the treetops, as if too tired to fly, their song intertwining with the rustling grasses, tousled by the rare cool breeze. The sky burns a dome of brilliant blue above you, filled with towering, cotton white cumulus clouds. You watch as they drift slowly over the horizon. Like colossal ships at sea. 

You rest your head on Laurie’s chest and he toys with your hair. Jo dozes with her arms pillowed across your stomach and the three of you are a sleepy dog-pile of limbs. The feel of Laurie’s fingers makes you relaxed, drowsy. You hear Jo then give a soft snore and you chuckle.

“What is it?” Laurie asks. You can already hear the smile in his voice, how just your laughter is enough to amuse him too. You shake your head against his chest and the movement makes you giggle again. Laurie joins you, flopping out his legs, the heat making you both delirious and loopy.

You reach up blindly and give him a firm nudge, your hand landing just under his chin.

“Stop it, you’ll wake her.” You scold him with as much seriousness as you can muster and failing miserably. 

“Ow,” Laurie groans. He grasps your wrist, moving your hand to place it against his cheek and he puckers out his lower lip. “You’ve hurt me, I’m unwell.”

“Oh...Laurie, I didn’t mean it..” you sit up and coo, caressing his skin. Laurie looks pleased, a flash of playfulness in the green of his eyes as you lean towards him. “Let me take a closer-” 

You cuff him on the ear ever so lightly, catching him by complete surprise and Jo wakes, cackling, throwing her arms around you. 

Later, the three of you gaze up at the passing clouds, a comfortable silence settling over you all as you enjoy the afternoon.

“If we could fly up into those clouds and there was a castle with anything your heart desired, what would it be?” Jo asks. “Where do you two see your lives leading you?” Her tone is pensive, romantic. You and Laurie both hum in thought. 

“You first, Laurie.” You murmur. 

Laurie turns to look back at the bright blue sky, to the billowy clouds that look like spun sugar candy. 

“I want to live abroad in Europe and be surrounded by music, my music. I want to compose, I want to be renowned for my operas.” He declares with a proud puff of his chest. Jo nods, you give his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“That sounds very much like you, Teddy,” Jo says. “A bachelor making art in Europe, how capital.”

He makes a face, then winks at you out of the corner of his eye. You stick out your tongue.

“You can do it if you stay focused,” you add. “No more billiards, for a start.” 

Laurie wrinkles his nose. “And what is it that you want, prima donna?” he asks you in challenge. 

You turn away with a roll of your eyes, gaze to the heavens. The thought comes to you easily as you listen to the birds, feel the breeze tickling your skin, drinking in the sky. 

“I want to be a ballet dancer in a prestigious company. I want to tour the world.” You say softly. Before, you would have felt embarrassment to share such an ambitious dream. But something about this moment, of being with Laurie and Jo makes you feel brave and safe enough to speak your mind, to put your words into the universe and have it come to fruition. Like a magic spell of sorts. With them here with you, you feel like any dream is possible.

Another chorus of hums and Jo looks pleased at your response. Laurie smirks up at the horizon.

“No fair if it’s likely to happen,” he laughs. “That’s cheating.”

“Oh, hush,” Jo chides with a rather hard sock to Laurie’s arm. She ignores his whines as he recoils and grumbles dramatically. “You’re well on your way, dear,” Jo tells you. “Now that you’ll be in that New York production next summer, I’m sure your opportunities will be plentiful.”

You hope she’s right. You’d secured a role as an ensemble dancer in an upcoming production of Romeo and Juliet, your most prestigious show as of yet in your young and budding career. Jo’s warm praise makes you blush like the flowers surrounding you, pink and full. Laurie’s quick eyes catch this, envious, and he changes the subject, a muscle ticking ever so slightly in his jaw. 

“And you, Jo?” He asks tightly. 

Jo exhales, crossing her arms behind her head. “Being a writer, of course. A great one. I don’t want to settle for less.” 

“Doubtful,” snides Laurie. “I don’t see it.”

You and Laurie look to each other with a quiet smile.

“No, not with all the prizes you’ve won,” you add. “Impossible.”

Jo shoots upright, too quickly for the heat. She slugs Laurie again.

“Ow...Jo, it’s too hot for your beatings,” he moans. “Don’t be a poor sport.”

She doesn’t answer him, only gives him a final push and hunkers back down onto the grass, turning her back to him with a huff.

“Why am I the only one that ever gets hit?” Laurie grumbles, opening his shirt to cool himself off and throws his forearm across his eyes for shade, frowning. You giggle, curling up beside her.

“I believe in your abilities, Jo.” You whisper to her. She takes your hand. 

It’s not long before the three of you are fast asleep in the sun. 

**

And as the seasons and summers roll on and the fruits of childhood begin to slowly ripen with the passing years, you find your companionship with Laurie and Jo changing and growing like never before. Your friendship starts to blossom into fondness, adoration. Indeed, you’ve loved them as playmates and companions since the three of you were children, but as you flourish amidst that quaint, strange, and budding pocket of time when young men and women come of age, where you and Laurie and Jo are now struck with bashfulness and an awareness of being alone with each other, your love for them arches and glows like summer sunset. 

This makes you acutely conscious of your appearance and dress, your posture, how you carry yourself, your mannerisms. How did your hair look? Did you laugh too loudly? Would Jo think your comments about her writing were too harsh? Why did you feel such warmth in your chest every time you saw her? And why were you starting to anticipate Laurie’s company? Why did you always have a sharp hope that he would come around with every visit of yours to the March residence? The constant whir of thoughts and worries was enough to make your head turn with heaviness, make you collapse from the pressures of simply existing.

“You’re acting odd,” Laurie tells you one day.

The two of you lay in a meadow with summer buzzing all around you, resting beneath the drooping leaves of a willow tree. Jo had been unable to join you as she had Beth’s lessons to teach that afternoon, much to her own disappointment and promising to make it up to you soon with an affectionate pinch to your cheek. You’d considered going home then. The last thing you wanted was to be left alone with Laurie, that familiar crush in your chest, an inkling of dread coupled with a shortness of breath, fear and excitement. You were terrified. But when he’d taken your hand and asked you so sweetly to accompany him to the meadow’s waters, how could you possibly refuse? 

But of course, Laurie was quick to notice your nerves. 

“The heat is getting to your head,” you say evenly with eyes closed, enjoying the warmth of the sun on your face. “Besides, that’s rather rude.”

You hear him move and feel his presence directly in front of you, as if leaning in.

“It is a bit hot, do you feel up for a swim?”

This makes your eyes snap open. Following Jo’s mannerisms, you give him a shove in the chest. “You’re vile,” you grin. 

To your surprise, Laurie’s teasing, playful demeanor is nowhere to be found. His gaze is instead thoughtful, holding your own like you are all he sees. Immediately, you feel your pulse kick up in the side of your throat.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” he continues with a shake of his head. “You don’t seem like yourself. I thought a change in our routine could be refreshing.”

You give a light shrug of your shoulders. “I feel fine,” you say. 

He brushes the back of his hand against your forehead. He hums, then curls his fingers down along the planes of your face to rest on your cheek. 

“You’re flushed,” he murmurs. 

Time seems to slow. The roar of blood deafens your ears and the fragrance of the sweet waters and blooms around you is overwhelming, sunlight refracting like prismed rainbow. Laurie kisses you then, a gentle touch of his lips, tilting your chin up to meet him. A sweetheart’s kiss, one that tastes of summer secrets as you’re shaded by vines and mist. When you break apart, he keeps his hand cradled against your cheek, his thumb circling the corner of your mouth.

You don’t know what to say. You’re speechless, your chest rising and falling softly, staring back at him with wide, surprised eyes. Laurie looks reflective, emerald irises half-lidded.

“What am I to tell Jo?” you whisper to him. Heat diffuses through your body like desert wind. You feel elated, cherished, frightened, embarrassed. Guilty. Laurie’s eyes flicker once more to your lips, his dark lashes fluttering with the movement. His smile is melancholy, yet knowing.

“You love her, too.” Laurie hums. It’s a statement, a confirmation of your feelings for both of them. The fact that the boy you’ve adored for so long has uttered your very thoughts out loud should have you completely mortified, yet there’s a small sense of comfort knowing he’d understand. Laurie knows this because he himself feels the same way, knows you or Jo or himself could never bring themselves to choose.

Laurie’s smile prompts you to lace your fingers together in the grasses and you give him a light peck on the cheek. He brightens up, raking a hand through his black curls. 

“You love me.” Laurie beams.

**

When you tell Jo about the kiss, she’s dancing with you on the porch in the evening light. Inside, you can see Marmee and the girls entertaining themselves through the windows as you practice your pirouettes. Jo is dressed in her writing jacket and trousers, keeping you balanced as she plays the part of the male dancer, perfectly competent. 

“What an impish boy,” Jo says of Laurie. You laugh and the two of you continue your steps, running through the dance number in a private rehearsal. Laurie is due to rehearse with you the week before your performance and the thought itself is enough to make butterflies explode in your stomach. Jo is a strong, leading dancer, while Laurie is graceful and firm, both capable of making the palms of your hands sweat with nerves. You know in your heart if you could rehearse with them, you’d have no fear on opening night. You’d already be invincible.

“Again from the top, please, kind sir,” you curtsey to Jo. Her smile is giddy and she gives a click of her heels before returning to her starting position. 

“Of course,” she responds. Taking your hand, she guides you through the steps once more, your heart soft and temperate like the evening around you.

**

The sound of applause is warm and full, washing over you as you take your bows. You feel weightless, aglow, eyes brimming with tears. You think you see Laurie and Jo leap to their feet in the audience, but the stage lights are too bright and you cannot see clearly and you think you may faint from happiness. 

In the auditorium, you’re still in your costume of Venetian silks and flowers when you’re swept off your feet by a boisterous Laurie and he twirls you around in his arms, his riding cloak billowing out behind him. 

“There’s our Capulet! You were phenomenal!”

“I’m so proud of you, dear!” Jo practically shouts with excitement, tackling you next in a bearish hug when Laurie finally sets you down. Their praise is boundless, endless, showering you in so much adoration that your heart feels close to bursting. You gather them close, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

“Thank you both for everything,” you choke out, squeezing them tight.

Over Jo’s shoulder, you spot Marmee, Meg, Amy, even shy little Beth with a bouquet of flowers and then you let the tears fall when you run to them and you thank your stars for the luck and love you’ve been blessed with.  

**

Another year, another summer soon arrives. You and Jo and Laurie are back in the fields cloud-gazing, a lazy afternoon of heat and leisurely time well spent. Things feel familiar, recognizable between the three of you, yet there’s a sense of distance between now and when Jo had first asked about your castles in the sky all those summers ago. 

 Jo was now making a name for herself in the writer’s world, having won another prize in a New York newspaper. She’d been gaining the attention of devoted readers and critics alike and was now working on a proper novel, her longest project as of yet. She tells you not to worry, that she’ll be sure to feature you as a central character in the same way she’d done as a child, nostalgic tales of pirates and adventure and love.

“My sweet sugar plum fairy,” she’d gruffed, pulling you into another powerful hug.

Laurie had finished his opera, now with aspirations of pulling funds together and opening a production in Europe. He was still in the midst of planning and conversing with his grandfather about finances and departure dates, but it seemed like Laurie’s promise of spiriting you away to Europe could now become a reality. And with the possibility of your very own French stage debut! 

Thus, you three souls were being tugged into three far corners of the globe, to your respective callings. The realization scares you, to know that this may be one of the few times you have left together. But underneath it all, there was a sense of excitement to see the world and make it your own. You were satisfied, proud knowing that the three of you had come so far with your aspirations and you had no doubt you would find success in your art.

In the comfortable silence, serenaded by the hum of cicadas and birdsong, you gaze up to the clouds gliding over Plumfield, Massachusetts. You feel an aching longing for those childhood days of carefree play, the countless rose-tinted memories of Laurie and Jo by your side, yet looking up at the sky, you know these memories of summers past will always be with you. 

And there would be better and more to come. 

[sarah-writes-marvel]

Don’t: Bucky Barnes x Reader (platonic)

S.S: Heyo, its been a while since posting a story so here you go! BE CAUTIOUS!!! This fic ca nbe ver ytrigger so read at your own risk! Thank you guys hope you all had a wonderful holiday season!

Warnings: !!TW!! cutting, depressive/sucidial thoughts, anxiety, bleeding, needles, MAJOR ANGST and some fluff

Word Count: 1,798

Again, please read at your own risk!! Thank you!!

MASTERLIST

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The events of Endgame had affected everybody. The loss of Tony, Nat, and Vision, the resignation of Cap, Thor off in space, and Bruce was somewhere in Europe helping develop cures for diseases, everything had changed. There were only a few who stayed around the reconstructed compound anymore. Those few including Bucky, Wanda, Sam, and me. 

It was usually quiet, sometimes Pepper, Morgan, and Rhodes stopped by to see how things were going. Peter always came after school to see if we needed help on missions. T’challa and Shuri always checked in over the video call, same with many of our off-world allies. Valkyrie even checked in every once in a while, per Thor’s request when he couldn’t. It was nice, but nothing would ever be the same, and everyone knew that.

We each had our own ways of coping. The four of us that lived in the compound did our best not to bother each other. Bucky usually locked himself in his room, Sam went on runs, Wanda meditated and I blasted music so loud that I couldn’t hear my thoughts. It probably wasn’t the best way to cope but if it helped, it helped.

It was one of those days where memories flooded and tears fell without a second thought, so I plugged in my headphones and laid back in my bed getting lost in the bass vibrating in my eardrums. I watched the blades of my ceiling fan turn painfully slow while the urge to eat crept on me. I turned to my clock and realized that it was around noon and I hadn’t eaten since sometime yesterday. So I wiped the few stray tears away and managed to roll out of bed, feeling the cold wooden floor beneath my feet.

I pulled an earbud from my ear, even turned the music down just slightly as I walked down the hall. Even though there was plenty of room to spread out the four of us decided to share a hallway, the close proximity giving some comfort in the time of difficulty. It was nice.

As I passed a certain door, the sound of a muffled cry reached my ear. It was Bucky’s door. I understood why it had been so hard for him to lose Steve. He had been Bucky’s anchor in life, and his comforter after the whole Hydra situation. He had to put on a brave face before Steve left to return the stones, knowing that the punk of a friend would stay and live his life. He had to bite back the tears when he saw Steve sitting on the wooden bench, hair turned white from age and skin wrinkled. 

I took a step closer, removing my other earbud and pausing my music so I could hear better, pressing my ear gently against the door. Another strangled sob came from the other side along with a guttural scream. I felt awful, I wanted to check in but I didn’t want to bother him if he just wanted to be left alone. But I went against the latter and gently knocked on the door.

“Bucky? Are you ok?” I asked. The only reply I got was muffled sobs. Maybe he hadn’t heard me. So I knocked again a little harder. “Bucky?” Again, nothing but crying.

I took a minute, maybe he just needed a minute before he answered. So I waited, listening to the pained cries until I couldn’t take it.

“Bucky, I’m coming in,” I called through the door. I turned the knob and opened the door to see Bucky on the floor, sitting against the side of his bed, a throwing dagger in his metal hand, and fresh bloody cuts along his flesh forearm.

“Bucky? What are you doing, you’re gonna hurt yourself.” I closed the door before moving towards him, tossing my headphones and phone onto his bed before kneeling beside him. I took the stained knife from his metal grip, tossing it across the floor to pick up later, and pressed my hand over his cuts to minimize the bleeding causing him to hiss in pain.

“Please, please don’t.” he cried, his metal digits wrapping around my wrist.

“Buck, I’m gonna help you no matter how much you might not want it. I’m not gonna leave you,” I told him, looking into his lifeless blue-grey eyes.

“That’s what Steve said, now he’s gone. How do I know you aren’t lying?” his voice was weak and quiet, scared almost.

“I’m not Steve, I’m not going anywhere. I swear on my life,” My hand still pressed against his bleeding cuts. “But this needs to be a mutual agreement, so you cant leave me either. At least not right now. So I need your help, alright? I need you to work with me here Barnes.”

His gaze was hazy but he nodded and let go of his grip on my wrist.

“We need to get you to the bathroom, and I know I might be strong but your much heavier than you look, no offense.” I smile, trying to bring some light to the situation. Luckily I saw a small smirk form on his paling face before he nodded again. 

I removed my hold on his arm, standing up and reaching my hands down to pull him up, which was successful as he used the bed to help. His left arm wrapped around my shoulder as we shuffled to the bathroom where I set him on the toilet.

I grabbed the darkest washcloth in his cupboard of towels, pressing it against his wrist and placing his metal hand over it.

“I need you to keep the pressure on that, please. I know it probably hurts but you gotta do it,” I commanded gently, squeezing his hand around his arm. He simply nodded as his eyes followed mine lethargically. I continued to look through the cupboards for his first aid kit.

“Top cupboard to the left.” He sounded tired and I didn’t blame him. I had walked in on him sitting in a small puddle of his own blood and the emotional toll this event has all taken on us was more than enough reason to be tired. I opened the cupboard he suggested and retrieved the kit from the shelf opening it quickly and pulling out what I needed.

Even when the blood had been dripping from the cuts I knew some were deep enough for stitches, so I pulled the needle and suture thread from the box, gaining a groan from Bucky.

“I’m sorry but I know those cuts are too deep. It’ll only be a stitch or two and ill make it as painless as possible Buck, you just gotta stay with me.” I replied, looking at him. He replied with a nod as tears streamed down his face. I quickly wiped one away before sending him a small smile and returning to my task.

“Alright hun, we need to clean your arm so I can make clean stitches,” I stated, standing in front of him holding my hands out again to help him to the sink. He took my hands and hauled himself from his position and made his way to sink and began washing the cuts under the running water, wincing at the stinging pain.

Once he was back on his seat, I carefully patted the area dry with the used towel and began stitching the larger cuts. I only paused when Bucky hissed in pain or jerked away after I had pulled the thread through. A chorus of apologizes came from my mouth, and from his.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.” his usual stern, strong voice was broken and came out in whispers.

“Buck, you dont have to apologize. It’s alright, life gets hard, it’s only logical to find a coping mechanism. It’s ok hun. It’s not your fault.” I cooed, trying to calm him.

“But I do, I just tried to kill myself because, what? Because I’m sad that my friend left me to be happy? How pathetic is that?” He denied, shaking with anger and sadness.

“It’s not pathetic because it is completely valid.” I began pulling the last stitch tight. “Life gets hard, and you have been through hell and back too many times to count. We have to cope with it somehow and pain can be a distraction, though not always the best option.” I continued looking at his sorrowful tear-filled eyes.  “Steve was your rock, the person you went to with every issue. And now without him, you feel lost and your drowning under the metaphorical waves of life. So your feelings are valid, and your actions were valid, just not the right way to go about it.” I finished as I wrapped gauze and Coban around the fresh stitches.

A moment of silence filled the bathroom as I finished wrapping his arm and cleaned up the supplies that had been used.

“How are you so good at this? Why weren’t you phased?” he questioned, breaking the eerie silence.

“That, my dear friend, is a conversation for another time. You need to focus on yourself right now.” I said with a smile while I watched my hands.

He looked away, down to his bandaged arm flexing his fist as the muscles shifted the bandage.

“Thanks,” he said quietly. “For helping me.” His eyes looked to mine, the small spark of hope back in his irises.

“It’s what friends do,” I replied. “Now you need some sleep,” I said helping him from the toilet and leading him back to his bed. Moving my phone and headphones out of his way, he settled onto his bed grabbing the fleece blanket from the foot of his bed and pull it over himself.

I carefully help before grabbing my phone and the knife on the floor and turning to leave. 

“Wait. I-uh- could you stay? Please.” he sounded like an innocent little boy who was scared of the monsters under the bed.

“Ya, of course I can.” I smiled, crawling into bed next to him. I sat with my back against the headboard, Bucky’s head on my lap, and his bandaged arm wrapped over my legs. My fingers found their way through his brunette locks as his breaths became heavier.

“You know you can always come to me,” I said quietly, leaning my head against the backboard. “I’ll listen, always.”

“You can come to me too. Tell me anything and everything,” he mumbled through his tired state.

“Love ya Buck. Sleep well.” I hummed quietly, closing my eyes.

“Love you too Kenz.” he murmured quietly before the room was filled with soft snores from both the soldier and me.

Things might not go back to how they were but they will get better.

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

THanks for reading. IF you ever need someone to talk to if you ever have thoughts like these dont be afraid to send me a message! Im alwasy willing to talk through lifes troubles with soemone if it helps them! Also know that there are hotlines that you can call! 

[mythicamagic]

Confetti - Jumin x MC Oneshot

Rated T - Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Romance 

Sometimes nightmares unearth things Jumin would rather leave buried. Luckily his fiancée knows a thing or two about untangling red threads. Jumin x MC oneshot

As always, you can read my stuff on Ao3 and Fanfiction. Net via the same username.

AN: I've added to this every time I've felt anxious or depressed lately, just a bit at a time. It's a lil one-shot with hurt/comfort themes but there are possessive Jumin moments just to let you know. Hope you enjoy.

Confetti

Within a beautiful, tastefully furnished penthouse- where wealth practically plastered the walls- a clock ticked monotonously. The faint hum from a fish tank appeared to be the only other noise, but further in, a man with tousled dark hair slept deeply, quiet breaths escaping him.

A frown marred his brow.

Lithe fingers stretched out over the white satin sheets, unconsciously searching. When his palm met nothing but fading warmth, an uneasy breath hissed out from between his teeth.

In the deep recesses of his mind, Jumin Han's consciousness hung suspended in the air. He lay atop countless threads, which stretched out far beyond his sight into hovering darkness.

He didn't feel much alarm about this. The dream was quite familiar. Sometimes revisiting this place could be a comfort to the workaholic. It was easier to slip under the heavy waters of sleep and quiet his constantly turning mind if the expected awaited him. But like everything in his life, the dream had a way of…turning on him.

Those vaguely comforting red threads, that slipped through his fingers like fine hair- tightened. They shifted beneath him, disturbed by something. Jumin's dulled eyes widened as his lungs constricted in sleep. Old anxieties were rising. Something was wrong.

His palm slid over the mattress again. Where-

The threads slid over his wrist, pinning it down. One coiled around his neck- and he yanked at it with his free hand in frustration.

This is my dream, don't be difficult.

Thin material stretched tighter, cutting into skin as more looped around his limbs. Jumin tried to move, but it felt useless to struggle. Blunt nails clawed at the one constricting his throat. Choking, he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think rationally.

The bed. Why was the bed empty?

Red threads slipped over his eyes and strung tight, plastering his lashes shut. He grit his teeth, gasping, something clogging his throat now even as the life was squeezed from him. Bereft of air, he scrambled with dizziness, kicking his legs out uselessly. Strips of red crumpled out from within his lungs, spreading up his windpipe like a party trick waiting to be pulled from a sleeve. But it hurt.

His eyes hurt. His hands hurt. Everything-

She's gone.

Jumin launched himself up into an upright position, panting. His chest heaved. Stormy grey eyes stared wide, unseeing. Sweat clung to his brow. His dark bedroom awaited him, but he paid it no mind- swinging his gaze to the empty space beside him.

Throwing the covers off, he left the bed, something drumming hard and fast in his temples. His heart refused to quiet, hammering in sync with the drum until his entire body felt like it were hearing a call to run. Even in the waking world he could still feel the red threads, stretching tight over his torso and throat. They only seemed to worsen the more rooms he checked, finding each of them empty.

She wasn't in the living room or even the kitchen. Elizabeth 3rd raised her head, blinking groggily at his sudden entrance. Jumin paused, muttering quietly for her to go back to sleep.

He turned on his heel, desperation clawing at him. Had she left? No- she couldn't, wouldn't-

Would she?

Jumin ripped open the door to his penthouse, rushing out into the hall. He'd search every damn room of the building if that's what it took.

Logic scattered to the wind, and he took the stairs. Belatedly, he realised he'd left his phone in his room. He should go back. He should pick it up and dial for security to see if she'd left the building. They could check the CCTV footage, or he could take the obvious route and call his fiancée.

But the threads felt like they were contorting around his veins, replacing them with thin, tenuous ribbons. He could barely breathe or think, he just felt an intense need to find. Find that which was precious to him-

Jumin's hand latched onto the threshold of a door. It was only the second floor down from the penthouse. He panted heavily, staring through the open doorway.

She stood before the floor-length windows, bathed in moonlight in her nightgown. She looked out at the cities various lights peacefully. The exquisite form of her registered in Jumin's wild eyes, until it seeped into his consciousness, calming him. He leaned his shoulder against the threshold, slowly trying to collect himself.

"Jumin?"

Her voice had his frayed attention snapping towards her once more. His breathing hitched. The angel with the moon at her back looked concerned. He straightened, padding forward with slow, measured steps.

Nothing in his controlled expression hinted at the explosion of nerves just a few moments ago. He felt quite confident in his appearance. He could put the wild raven locks down to bed hair.

"You were gone," he stated quietly, padding closer. "You should have woken me, my love-"

"After all the paperwork you tackled today?" Amusement clouded her beautiful voice that he clung to like a lifeline. "No way would I disturb your sleep. Go back to bed."

"Not without you," there's almost a growl in his velvety voice, saying it in an exhale. His heart thundered in his chest once more as he finally stopped before her.

She considered him then, the lazy contentment in her expression vanishing. "Jumin…you're shaking. Are you alright?"

Raven hair fell across his brow and into his lashes, slightly obscuring his eyes. Jumin forced himself to relax his shoulders and lift his head. His hands trembled enough that he doesn't trust himself to touch her. "Naturally I'm fine-"

"Did you have another nightmare?" She inquired softly, making his abdomen jump. The threads tightened insidiously around him.

Raising his brows, a signature haughty look entered his gaze. "I've told you before, but it's quite impossible for me to experience such wild fantasies. My mind is too rationale to conjure fanciful things," he forced a quip into his tone, curving his lips up.

Her own eyes turned flat. "Jumin, you draw up plans for cat toys in your spare time. Your mind is very capable of conjuring many weird and wonderful things," she deadpanned, and he was wholly unprepared for her touch as she reached up. Her fingers brushed the raven hair over his brow aside, before stroking gently down his cheek and jaw.

A muscle jumped in his neck. He exhaled in a rush, eyes shaking as powerful feelings warred inside him. He adored her so much. The rush of adrenalin inside him came flooding back. He wanted so badly to just-

"What's wrong? You can tell me," she gently coaxed.

No he couldn't. Because he'd already told her of the red threads and had promised to work on them. She was to be his wife. He acted every day as though he'd been cured, because he'd wanted to be worthy of her.

But the threads were starting to loop around her wrists the longer she touched him. Knew him. Loved him. Soon he'd draw her into his web completely and she'd never escape.

"I love you," Jumin murmured thickly in answer.

Her gaze searched his stoic expression carefully, before his arms came up, pressing his hands against the cool glass on either side of her. Lean muscle shifted as he drew closer, a dusty want brightening the grey of his eyes.

The problem was that he loved her deeply, but was too selfish to cut the threads currently sliding around her shoulders as they hung off him. Shaky breaths danced over her parted lips- before closing the distance in a rush, he claimed her mouth and swallowed her inhale.

He coaxed her mouth to part wider with his tongue, brushing it inside. She tasted vaguely of mint toothpaste, which was unsurprising since they'd retired to bed. Yet even something so mundane sent off his adoration like a burst of fireworks. Jumin kissed her hungrily with fervour, almost bruising in his force. She made a noise when his hips rocked- pinning her against the glass completely, bodies meeting.

Jumin pulled away from her mouth, kissing down her jaw and neck.

"J-ah!" His teeth nipped, scraping harshly over her skin. Firm lips latched onto it then, sucking until red hickeys bloomed over the expanse of her collarbone. "Jumin…" she tried again.

"Yes, my love?" Jumin murmured, he lightly traced the contours of her face, brushing knuckles down her jaw. "Do you desire something from me? I can give you anything, you know. I've said so many times that you can be greedy, so much more greedy. Ask and you shall receive." He muttered, kissing her cheek.

"Or are you feeling it so much that you can't help but say my name?" His voice turned huskier in a matter of seconds, the timbre effectively sending a shiver down her spine.

"N-no, that's not it," she panted, and he jolted when her warmth pressed closer. Belatedly he realised she'd been clinging to him the entire time.

Dark brows drew together, a red thread tightening around his face. "What is it? Was I making a strange expression?"

She shook her head slowly, gazing up at him. "…You look scared."

Belatedly, he realised he was shaking. Or maybe he'd never really stopped.

He eased back just a touch. "That's not- I don't." He denied, feeling stifled.

"Is it those red threads again?" She murmured suddenly. Jumin jolted, a guilty feeling worming its way around his stomach. They hadn't spoken about them In so long. He'd been certain he'd be alright. Nothing had happened to threaten their relationship.

Just one stupid dream and an empty bed.

His beloved sighed, brushing her hand through his silky hair. "Let's go back upstairs." Jumin hesitated to release her until she raised her head and slid her hand to his shoulder. "Jumin," she said in a firmer voice that had his breath faltering.

True he very much enjoyed his control and lifting her against surfaces, binding her hands or worshipping her body. But just a simple change in her tone and the heat of her eyes had him weak in the knees. Like a starving wolf, he eased off her but lingered close, shadowing her steps upstairs.

She took his hand without fear and led the way. When she squeezed his fingers, he felt the desire to rest his forehead against the nape of her neck. Truly, he would never be worthy of her.

Upon reaching the penthouse, the red strings eased their grip around him. Jumin exhaled, blinking when his fiancée led him to the couch, placing her hands on his chest and easing him down to sit. Heat flashed through his bloodstream, causing his palms to glide over her waist, but she batted his hands off. Turning, she padded into the kitchen without another word.

Jumin looked down at his hands, touching the engagement ring on his finger. It had confused the press, who'd assumed he'd already had his wedding in secret. But no, Jumin simply insisted on getting a ring right alongside his soon to be wife, though many men didn't share his feelings.

He just wanted the world to know he belonged to her too. It didn't work one way. She was not his accessory to be switched out the moment another, shiner model came along.

He was not his father.

Hearing footsteps, Jumin raised his head. A short, loud 'bang!' pieced his hearing, and he shrank back, seeing an explosion of colour. Hearing her accompanying quiet laughter and feeling the various crumpled streamers land lightly in his hair, Jumin frowned.

"That was not 'lit,' as the kids of today would say. I would appreciate a warning next time."

She gave him an exasperated look. "Honey, for the last time, please stop trying to apply internet humour and text speak into regular conversations. Also, it's not a party. I can't just yell 'surprise!' That's just not good etiquette."

"Neither is scaring your intended half to death. What is the meaning of this?"

He watched as she took a seat next to him, bringing out a simple wooden box that she'd tucked under her arm. Opening it up, her lips tugged up when he leaned closer curiously, only to raise a brow when it was empty.

Jumin stilled when slim fingers brushed his hair, attention honing in on her touch. A single blue, crinkled streamer was pulled free from the black strands, held before his gaze.

"There we go, now tell me. If this were a red string of yours, just one thread- what would it be?" She tilted her head.

Swallowing to try and shake the sudden tightness of his throat, Jumin's lashes lowered. The red strings in his mind eased considerably, almost going lax. A warmth spread through his stomach as he stared at her. "The fear of…you spending excess amount of time with my father alone."

Something in her gaze looked a little saddened, but she nodded with acceptance. "Okay, and this one?" She lifted another streamer from his hair.

"Elizabeth III going missing again."

"This?"

"V."

It continued on and on. Fears, worries, insidiously vague anxieties that would never really go away or be resolved but he'd have to deal with. She listened to them all until the last streamer was pulled from his shoulder and placed into the box with the other 'threads.'

"I'm going to keep all these in this box." She murmured, nodding to herself as though it made perfect sense. "And…I'm going to keep it open, but give you the key. So next time if something starts bothering you, but you don't want to outright admit it- just give me the key and we can do this again."

His hands slid over hers, covering them completely while stroking his thumb over her pulse. "But it is surely uncomfortable for you and childish. Not to mention, you're not my therapist."

Steel grey eyes searched her intently, guilt warring with affection. He didn't want to burden her or turn her into his life coach, but she was the only one- the only one, who had seen him completely and not shied away.

She squeezed his hand. "No, I'm not. But I will be your wife," her brows drew together. "I…want you to talk to me."

No sooner than she'd gotten her last word out, soft lips captured her own. She smiled against his mouth and kissed back, allowing him to slide his hand down her leg and lift it onto the couch by his waist, tucking her closer to him. When he pulled away, warm breath fanned over her lips, before he pressed a surprisingly chaste kiss to her forehead. "I adore you."

She grinned, waiting until he released her. "Love you too, now then-" she turned, grabbing something hidden behind her. "Here's a party popper for you, and this is my box."

Jumin blinked when both were shoved into his hands. "What for?"

Her eyes flit away from him to watch the fish. "Silly, you're not the only one who has insecurities. It's my turn now. I have my own box, and my own key, and…my own threads, kind of. But my thing feels more like water. Like everything becomes sluggish and I'm under the surface." She followed a blue fish with her eyes dimly, voice becoming quiet. "When stress mounts up, I feel like I'm slow to respond to it, you know?"

Hearing nothing but silence, her eyes turned downcast. "I-I'm not the perfect angel you see me as, Jumin. This honeymoon phase you're in will pass one day, and you'll see that I'm very much human and flawed."

Instead of rebuking her immediately as she'd expected, his fiancée jumped and looked up when a loud 'bang!' deafened her ears briefly. Colours rained down on her upturned face, catching in her hair. Heat touched her cheeks when Jumin loomed close.

With a feather light touch, he removed a pink streamer from her hair, playing dirty by briefly caressing the skin of her throat. "…What is this one?"

She gave a tremulous smile. "The fear of disappointing you."

Jumin wrapped his arms around her, bringing her in close and effectively getting himself covered in her confetti.

"That would never happen, my love."

[veritygrahams]

Without Proof

Without Proof

Accident and Emergency was busy as usual. Severus was a young and excited student doctor, and he thrived in the A&E he even ended up watching a surgery and learning as they intricately repaired the damage. He wasn't going to be a surgeon. He was interested in the cerebral side of medicine: curing people with the miracle of drugs, therapies, and treatments. He was always available when the higher-ups asked for him. He was gifted in the art of medicine, and this focus on his work healed a broken heart.

After being paged for an incoming case, he rushed to the ambulance bay; it's how someone could become the best, how they always got the best cases—being there first, taking every chance, and not walking but running! The ambulance door opened and that old wound was ripped open. His heart had been broken long ago—beyond repair— he found solace at university, in medical school and now in his studies and his work.

"I have a twenty-three-year-old male. His temperature is thirty-eight degrees, his blood pressure is eighty over ninety, he's conscious but not aware, and he's been on twenty-four percent oxygen for fifteen minutes. We administered pain relief, ten cc's codeine; his breathing has eased, but he's not in a good way," the paramedic recited, pushing the chart into Severus' hand.

The paramedics pulled the gurney from the ambulance. On the bed was a man with a mass of dark hair; his eyes had a far off look, and his breathing was ragged. If this was an improvement, Severus didn't want to know what he'd been like before. Climbing out after him was the woman who had broken his heart: Lily.

He would know her anywhere, and he watched as her auburn hair whipped around her beautiful porcelain face. He looked into her forest green eyes. Who could forget those devastatingly beautiful evergreen eyes? They were just like the last time he had seen them: swollen, puffy, and red. It pained him to watch as tears spilled over.

"How did he present?" Severus forced his eyes over to the paramedic—the one that could give him information he needed to make it all better for her.

"His breathing was short and erratic; he's very confused, persistently coughing up blood. He's running a fever—it's getting higher—and his wife has said he's vomited as well."

Severus nodded sharply, pushing the gurney through the A&E doors and parking it in an empty room. Severus moved around hurriedly, connecting the man to various monitors and barking instructions. He had always been good at taking charge. He checked the man's breathing; his face darkened, barely noticing her standing to one side, reading his face.

"He's going into respiratory depression; what medication has he had that wasn't on the chart?" Severus barked at the paramedic.

"We didn't check." The man was flummoxed. "He was in agony; we had to give him something."

"Lily?" His tone softened.

"I wrote it all down. He's been on a bunch of different over the counter stuff; nothing helped." Her voice was breaking as she tried to hold back the tears; she was coming apart at the seams.

"Thank you." He turned to the man in front of him. He was already checking his airway; it wasn't good. "Right, I need an intubation kit, 8.0mm tube, now!"

Within moments he was at the head of the bed tilting the man's head back to see his airway clearly. Lily was gently moved aside by a nurse.

"Laryngoscope."

His favoured nurse, Poppy, passed one within seconds. Severus held the man's head, his eyes focused on hiss passageway, and gently slid the scope to the right of the man's mouth. He then held his tongue to one side as the scope slid down his throat.

"Tube."

He guided the tube down his throat. It became stuck just past his uvula and Severus frowned.

"7.0mm tube; his lymph nodes are enlarged."

The tube slipped in with ease this time. He removed the scope, gently, before ensuring the pilot balloon was inflated and attaching it to the ventilator. He watched the patient's chest; when it rose and fell gently, he sighed in relief.

"I want him admitted to the ICU immediately. His vitals need to be monitored; get a chest x-ray and a full blood panel. We also need a catheter and central line fitting, and monitor his urine output; anything out of the ordinary page myself or Dr. McGonagall," he rattled off to his faithful Poppy. "Oh, and a urine test".

"Yes, Dr. Snape, and what will you be doing?" Poppy questioned with a curt smile.

"Poppy, I'll be getting a full and detailed history," he said with a smile.

"You're speaking to the family?" She smirked.

"I'm just trying it out."

Severus turned round to see a petrified Lily. His heart sank. He wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of the day talking to her. But not about him! Severus had purposefully pretended not to know the man she had chosen over him. He truly hated Potter.

"I think coffee is in order."

Much to his delight, Lily nodded.

They sat in a small room just off the ICU; the walls were painted a warm cream colour. There were plush sofas with cushions and throws. It was all in an effort to help families feel like their entire world wasn't falling apart.

Severus got the coffee, making it just how she liked it. He turned to her, watching as she pulled at the already fraying threads of her thick cardigan. She looked just as distraught as she had before; he imagined watching the intubation of a loved one didn't exactly inspire hope.

"Here," he handed her the steaming cup, "milk, three sugars? Even though I still feel obligated to educate you on the dangers of a high sugar diet." He tried a smile; it had been a while.

"You remembered?" Her lips upturned slightly—not enough to be considered a smile, but then people rarely smiled in the ICU waiting room.

"Of course. But, uh, I need his medical history." His voice was barely a whisper; he wasn't used to this aspect of the job. Usually, he would get the tests, leaving the questioning to Poppy.

"Erm, what do you need to know?" She stumbled over the words inelegantly.

"It's ok, just answer the questions as best you can. When did his symptoms start?"

"A week ago. It was only a cough—the flu, I guess." She continued to decimate the cardigan, a habit he remembered from the last moments he had with her. She had been heartbroken; it was all his fault of course.

"Has he had pneumonia before?"

"As a child, I think; he has a weak immune system, but it hasn't been a problem since we married. Oh my god, I don't even know the details!" She starting sobbing, and he saw how helpless she felt. She wore her heart on her sleeve; he thought she was strong in her vulnerability.

"That's ok; is he on any medication or supplements?"

"No, like I said, it's not been a problem. We try to make sure we run a clean shop; we take germs and illnesses seriously, as I'm sure you can imagine."

"I can." He reached and squeezed her hand. "I'll do my best, I promise."

She smiled now, her shoulders a little less tense, and let out a long-held breath.

"His symptoms, would you describe them as continuous or intermittent?"

"Continuous, but they would occasionally get worse and then ease up. Does that make sense? Is that good or bad?"

"Lily, relax!" He waited whilst she tried to calm herself. "It just gives me the information I need to make a diagnosis; don't think about the good or bad, okay?"

She nodded, her face resolved as she wiped away the escaping tears.

"Is there anything that helped to relieve the symptoms, made him feel better?"

She shook her head as she pulled out a thread of wool and fiddled with it between her fingers.

"Has he traveled recently or been exposed to anything toxic, like chemicals?"

Again she shook her head, and he nodded, his hand still holding hers.

"Has he been around anyone that's been ill?"

"No; we have a baby, but he's been the picture of health. James is very careful."

"I understand. I just need to know about alcohol consumption, smoking, and what vaccines he has had."

"He's an occasional drinker, but since Harry had been born, it's lessened. He's never smoked, and he had all the usual vaccines—they were very careful, his parents. I can get copies of his records."

"No, that's fine." He paused, looking at her. How could he explain what was wrong? He figured he should just come out and tell her everything he knew—anything to stop her worrying.

"Lily, I think he has pneumonia, possibly with another infection. This wouldn't usually be a problem for a man of his age, but it's the weak immune system. That's why things have… escalated." He paused. "There are a variety of tests that we'll do: initially to get him off a ventilator, and secondly to find out which strain of bacteria caused the pneumonia. Once we have that, we'll begin treatment."

"It's definitely pneumonia?" she asked.

"Not definitely; that's why we'll do tests. Your husband has had a variety of medications. They haven't helped him, and I don't want to do anything other than improve his condition. That means we need proof it's pneumonia." He squeezed her hand again.

"He'll be ok?" Her lip trembled.

"I'll do everything I can, I promise!"

That was when she lunged into his embrace, sobbing, and whispered a million thank you's. He was there longer than he'd ever been known to have spent with a family member before.

Severus came back early the next morning. Once he had changed into his forest green scrubs, he made his way to the ICU. He glanced at the chart and then made his way to collect the X-rays and check the tests he'd ordered the day before. He had an early meeting with McGonagall; after all, he was still a student and unable to take action alone. It wasn't long before he was knocking purposefully at her door.

"Come in," she called.

"Minerva, I have x-rays from Mr. Potter in bed two."

She rose, switching on the viewing panel. He passed her the film. They stood in silence for a moment.

"So, what do you see, Severus?"

"I'd say pneumonia; there's also a lot of fluid in the lungs."

"What would you do about that?" she drilled.

"Put in a chest tube, which could get him off the ventilator."

"Anything else?"

"Well, I want to confirm pneumonia. I'm waiting for the blood and urine tests to come back. I'll order a CT to check for abscesses in the lungs."

"And what about Sputum test?"

"It's to test the fluid taken from a deep cough and at this point, I don't know if he'll be conscious."

"Very good. What about the pleural fluid culture?"

"TooI invasive; he needs to improve before I start poking his lungs with a giant needle," he drawled.

"How's the family?"

"He just has a wife and son. She's coping, although she's understandably worried; she wants assurance he'll be ok."

"You spoke to a family member?" She looked at him incredulously.

"You said in my last supervision that I should be more available to families!"

"I know, but I never expected you to do it. I'm impressed!" McGonagall smiled.

"I'm just trying it out; I doubt it'll stick."

"I expect nothing less, Severus. Now you have work to do; chest tubes don't get put in by themselves, you know."

"I can do it without supervision?"

"My best student can."

Severus explained as delicately as he could why the tube was in her husband's chest, draining it of fluid. He neglected to tell her that it'd been his first solo attempt. It'd gone exceptionally well; he had results coming soon, and with the fluid draining, he could get a CT scan.

As the tests came back, it was increasingly clear it was pneumonia, but they didn't know the strain of bacteria. That was a problem; they couldn't treat it without knowing, and the list of antibiotics was a mile long. Dr. McGonagall would hang, draw and quarter him if he treated without proof. He checked the vitals once more and was just marking down the urine output and checking the drip when she entered.

"Any news?"

He turned to face her. She was still in the same clothes that she'd arrived in; the cardigan had seen better days.

"I just noticed; lots of tests, not much treatment…" she trailed off.

"I understand, but we put the chest tube in, and now we can check his lungs for abscesses. He may even come off the ventilator," he said.

"Yeah…" Tears threatened to fall from her eyes again.

He wasn't sure what to say to comfort her, and the first, awkward sentence came tumbling from his lips. "Aww, does somebody need a hug?" he asked gently.

"Said Severus Snape, never!" She laughed lightly, but the tears still fell, and soon she was wrapped in his arms.

"Only to you," he whispered.

"Sev?" She looked up, still wrapped in his arms, her eyes imploring him. "Would you do something for me?"

"For you? Anything."

She pushed him away, pacing the room. Glancing up at him, her face filled with worry. "Promise me you won't wait too long to treat him?"

"I don't need to promise you; I'll do everything I can."

"I'm not stupid, Sev. You know it's pneumonia; there are drugs that could be helping!"

"Lily, it's complicated; different strains require different antibiotics!"

"So, you're telling me that there isn't something you would do in an emergency, something to give him more time? You're telling me the smartest man I know doesn't have a solution?"

"You're asking me to treat him without being sure. Do you know what that could do to me? My career? To your husband, if I'm wrong?"

She nodded.

"And you're asking anyway?"

She nodded again.

It was Severus' turn to pace; he could give Potter penicillin, but it was against protocol. Then again, it covered quite a few of the bacteria strains, and it wasn't as if they would give him so much that when it counted, it would be ineffective. There was no indication he was allergic, and it had a good chance of improving his condition.

He turned to her and stared into her forest green eyes. He would risk his career for the man she chose over him, a man that had played him so that he could get the girl.

"I'll start him on penicillin, unless he's allergic?"

Her face broke into a smile. She shook her head vigorously, launching herself at him. "I knew I could count on you, Sev!"

"I did say anything," he whispered, wrapping his arms around her.

He had put Potter on the penicillin, but it wasn't long before he presented with Angioedema—welts that indicated an allergic reaction. His already low blood pressure was falling.

Severus was paged when the man's heart had stopped pumping all together. Poppy hurried Lily out of the room.

"He's going into Anaphylaxis, get the paddles!" Severus shouted. Poppy was already prepared. "Give him Epinephrine and Dopamine! We need that blood pressure up!"

"Charging to two hundred!" Poppy called whilst another nurse applied compressions. "Clear!"

Severus applied the paddles, shocking Potter's heart.

"Charge to three hundred!" he called, the compressions resuming.

"Clear!" she shouted.

Severus shocked him again.

"Charge to four hundred!" he called desperately.

"Clear!"

Severus shocked him again. Potter arched off the bed, and a faint heartbeat resumed. Severus sighed as he looked over everything that the man had been prescribed, everything that had gone into his system. At that moment he realised Potter was allergic to penicillin.

"Dr. Snape, what caused this?"

"Penicillin; we need to flush it out of his system, now!" His head was in his hands.

"Speak to McGonagall; she'll know what to do," Poppy urged.

Severus nodded. His heart sank; it wasn't looking good.

With some trepidation, he made his way up to McGonagall's office. He had the chart, and the chart didn't lie. All he could do was hope that she knew something he didn't. Once he was there, he stood outside the door, not wanting to enter. When he finally knocked, she called him in straight away. She sat behind her desk with a pile of charts, her eyes tired and her lips pursed. The usually tight bun atop her head was slipping.

"Ah, Severus, how is Mr. Potter?" She smiled like he was the student she didn't need to worry about.

The smile faded when he slumped in the chair. He told her the truth; everything, his history with the wife, the favour that he had done her, and how it had gone horribly wrong.

"Give me the chart!" she demanded, her expression not improving. "And this is the most up to date information?"

"I came straight here," he whispered.

"Of all the students to do this..." She paused. "Severus, my most detached student, brilliant, but appalling bedside manner, terrible with families, the one time you engage… you make the worst decision! We need proof for a reason!" she was shouting by the end. "You know what this chart tells me, don't you?"

"I was hoping that you could fix it." He looked up.

"I don't have a magic wand, Severus! Her husband is falling into a coma and he won't wake; you do know that, don't you?"

Severus nodded.

"You will have to tell her."

"Please, don't!" he pleaded; he couldn't stand to look in those forest green eyes and tell her what he had done. "I—I can't!"

"Severus," she paused, shaking her head, "of all my students? You will tell her.

[kamyyu]

RP PLOTTING CHEAT SHEET. Want new-and-exciting plots for your character? Long to reach out to more of your followers, but don’t know where to start? Fear not! Fill out this form and give your RP partners both present and future all the of juicy jumping off points they need to help you get your characters acquainted. Be sure to tag the players whose characters YOU want more cues to interact with, and repost, don’t reblog! Feel free to add or remove sections as you see fit. Template here.

mun name . Ian

ooc contact . IM (anyone), Discord (u can ask!!)

who the heck is my muse anyway . Camus. Stupid Asshole With No Last Name. The Queen’s Sword, alternatively the Queen’s Dog. A Two-faced, lying shit.

points of interest . Knowledge, History, Literature, Culture, Sugar, Pastries, Horse riding, Fencing, Ice Skating, Perfectionism.

what they’ve been up to recently . I mean i been playing this loser for 4 yrs and they’re still looking for a way to cure Queen -- i’m surprised she hasn’t died by now bruh.

where to find them . Verse dependent // Typically Anywhere, as I play him in an AU where he’s ‘looking’ for the cure so yeah that can be pretty much in any place time and year since he has magickal funky gadgets (thank kween)

current plans . listen i have no plans this blog is a mess, i’m a mess, and so is cammy and he hates me for it

desired interactions . pls let my ship sail its been 875 yrs........... also pls give him ppl who can be nice to him. like. i know he’s an ass. but. he’ll get there. i’m a dumb bc i constantly hover between distancing myself from utapri & wanting cammy to be a stupid ridiculous idol with his stupid idol (not-)friends, like if he actually develops Emotions there i’d be so happy man..... other than that i want some angsty thread where he Struggles between following his queen/country’s orders and something else (Doing The Right Thing maybe, but he’d usually NOT unless there’s some very very very good reason (or person hehehe) for it), or angsty shit where he just fails to save his queen (and thus cannot prevent the coup) and he kinda becomes a wandering depressed vagrant, with FAILURE branded on his forehead

offered interactions . Cammy is good for ppl who want a) their muses to be manipulated (he’s mean like that) or b) a sunshine x eternal grump dynamic where cammy obviously is the grump, he’ll be v. rude but he can serve as a good (if brutal) wake-up call to other muses, c) if he runs into supernatural things he will do point (a) and / or chase em down if there’s a possibility that they can help him cure his queen & if it goes well there should be Conflicting Feels after a while, d) general bossing around and arrogance abound, e) he’s a bad boi

current open post/s . Oops none bc I’m a lazy asshole, hmu through IM tho.

anything else . cammy is my secondary blog bc his muse is a lil wonky, mainly bc all the canon material confuses my poor brain and i can’t decide on what to pay attention to & dismiss; hence the AU standard verse, hence why he probably differs a lil from canon kamyu (im sorry i do try), uh idk man;;;;;; ily if u bother to read this <333

TAGGED BY: @defidelitas TAGGING: you.

[krys-does-otome]

Bae in Review: Ryouma Sakamoto, Kyoto Winds/Edo Blossoms

I’ve been waiting for you, you suave, sexy man, you.

I took down my original review as it’s now incomplete without input from Edo Blossoms and thus meant I had an incomplete picture of Sakamoto.

However, now that I’ve completed his route all the way through, I can now give my full opinion on this pirate casanova.

Let’s do this, guys.

For previous Baes in Review, here’s the full list. You'll find my reviews for Collar x Malice, Bad Apple Wars, and my first of the Hakuoki Bae in Reviews, Sanosuke Harada.

Remember, spoilers down below~

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Sakamoto, for me... He's an alright kinda guy. There are times when he comes off as a little more stereotypical than as an actual character, but it's not a trait to immediately hate about him. If anything, I had a bit of fun with him, the Hakuoki equivalent of a pirate adventure, plus all that Fury nonsense and whatnot.

From the very start of the route, Sakamoto is flirting with us, using his charm and allure to coax us into a sense of security and to spill everything to him while keeping himself a mystery that we want to keep coming back to. And he does come back, repeatedly. He gives off the vibe of that older guy in high school you date that your dad hates, but you love him because of his rebellious streak and about how much he pushes the envelope with your parents, like staying out past curfew, joyriding in his parents’ car, sick tattoos and piercings, throwing loud parties, and all that 'cool, older guy' nonsense that all the girls go nuts over.

Yet, for all of his clashing with his peers, Sakamoto does stick up for what he believes in, protecting what matters most to him, even if the consequences of protecting those things can rub him and others the wrong way.

In contrast to the Shinsengumi's ideals, which involve the old ideas of what it means to be a warrior, the traditions of upholding honor and putting the needs of others above your own, Sakamoto is more self-centered, but not in a bad way. He does not apologize for his actions in the past, switching sides whenever it suited him, nor does he let the mistakes and choices of others affect him in a negative way. Normally, in this kind of narrative, this is something that is looked-down upon, making the figure appear selfish and uncaring, and that it's more important to care about the greater good rather than one's self.

Not so for this route.

Though it does leave some plot threads dangling, Sakamoto's route is a reminder that, yes, while the greater good is important, it's also important to make sure that you are okay as well before you can focus on helping anyone else.

Sakamoto frequently makes attempts to cheer up Chizuru whenever she's feeling down or unsure of herself, trying to make her laugh or focus on something else before she becomes too depressed or over anxious. Through Chizuru as well, Sakamoto learns to focus on something other than himself. One of my favorite moments between the two of them being the scene where Sakamoto is holding Chizuru back when he tells her about Kondou and his upcoming execution.

Chizuru is naturally distraught that one of her father figures, practically a mentor to her, was being executed, very cruelly. Anyone that's played Hakuoki before knows how good of a man Kondou was, how kind and selfless he was, and how undeserving of his fate he was. When Sakamoto breaks the news to her, he physically has to hold her back from going into an enemy stronghold, consoles her that there's nothing she can do to rescue him, that it was a fool's errand to try and rescue him as someone would if this was a heroic epic where you can just waltz into the enemy stronghold and rescue people without any consequences, and how much of a bad idea it would be to even try. Chizuru breaks down even more at this, especially when finding out that Kondou went there of his own free will, surrendering voluntarily, making the idea of rescuing him an even worse idea.

Despite this, I also like how later on, Sakamoto compromises with Chizuru on the matter. That even if they can't rescue him, they at least see him off in his death. I think this might have been the first clue in seeing how Chizuru is changing Sakamoto, that while going to rescue Kondou was a beyond stupid idea, he's still willing to let Chizuru see her friend off in his final moments, to let her have her peace, even if it ends up being a bad idea later on because plot reasons.

This kind of compromise also comes up again when Chizuru finds out about her twin brother, Kaoru, and what he had gone through to protect her.

It brings up the argument of self versus others again, and brings it into a great light.

Chizuru, when she learns that she even has a brother, is immediately ready to embrace him and accept him into her life. However, when Kaoru tells her what he's been through in his life, what he had to do to protect her, something that she had no knowledge of prior to this moment, is naturally devastated.

Sakamoto, on the other hand, has exactly none of Kaoru's spiel. That Kaoru is putting on blame on Chizuru for simply being ignorant when up until that moment she didn't even know she had a brother in the first place, is complete bullshit. Chizuru isn't to blame for Kaoru's traumatic past nor is she responsible for righting his wrongs for him. Other's messes are not your responsibility to clean up, and Sakamoto teaches this to Chizuru, that yes, while the things that happened to Kaoru were terrible, he shouldn't be blaming Chizuru for something he put himself through for her sake.

There’s also something to be said about the contrasts between Sakamoto and Nakaoka, his long time friend. They have a similar outlook in looking out for themselves and the things important to them. However, while Sakamoto prefers a more peaceful means to resolve his problems, Nakaoka takes the violent route in wanting to correct the wrongs done to him, and that he will use any method necessary to achieve those means, including his former Tosa countrymen turning into Furies to overthrow the shogunate.

Yet, in the end, Sakamoto still wants to save his friend no matter the wrongs the other has done to him, and it’s pretty heartbreaking to watch his death, how Nakaoka just wanted his people to be treated fairly and with respect instead of the dirt beneath the noble’s feet. In the end, Nakaoka still does at least respect Sakamoto, that even if they disagree, they can still be friends in the end.

(Water marking, whyyyy....)

If I have to say my gripes with this route, it's that while it's primary theme is focusing on the self, it can be frustrating for those that want to know the larger story, if this is one of the first routes a person takes up. You wonder why at times what purpose Shiranui serves in the larger plot of this route other than being a cockblock to Sakamoto and Chizuru, as that's what he felt like at times, to remind us that, yes, there is a plot going on, can we get back on that?

Also, if you want to find out what happens to Hijikata, Saito, and the war going on? We just don’t know.

Not to mention you can’t infer what happens to Heisuke and Sanan when they face off against Kodo. Do they kill him? Do they die in the attempt? We just don't know.

Also, remember how Sakamoto is a fury? How long does he have to live? Does he just keep nomming on Chizuru for the rest of their days as pirate adventurers? Do they find a cure and he can go back to being human again? We just don't know.

Although it does lead to the first CG I've seen where Chizuru has short hair, so I can't complain about the ending too much.

Overall, Sakamoto is alright guy. He can be frustrating at times, but he more than makes up for it with his good humor and affection.

Pros and Cons

PRO: He’s charming and a smooth talker, probably can work a party crowd pretty well, which can be good for you shy types. CON: He can also polarize the same crowd and have everyone hating him (and somehow you too) by the end of the night.

PRO: He’s the romantic type, sweeps you off your feet, buys you presents, give romantic kisses, sends teasing letters, can name off about a hundred different things he likes about you, etc. CON: PERSONAL SPACE, MISTER SAKAMOTO, DO YOU UNDERSTAND THE CONCEPT?!

PRO: He’ll carry you away from danger, even under the threat of gunfire. CON: 99% of the time, it’s his fault you’re in trouble in the first place.

PRO: He takes care of you when you get really hurt, making you laugh and rubbing cream on your back. CON: It's hard to tell if he's leaving you permanently when you wake up alone sometimes because he has that adventurous and reckless personality.

PRO: The sins of the father do not fall to the son to correct, and Sakamoto is a strong believer in this. CON: Kondou dies because of this, as the metaphorical son taking on the parental blame of the shogunate's decisions.

PRO: Having fun being sea pirates on your honeymoon. CON: Wasn't there some sort of war going on? And did we leave two of my friends to die while they murdered my father? Aren't you still lusting after blood? We just don't know.

Bae Rating: 8/10

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If anyone has any special requests for baes for me to review, here’s the most up-to-date list of games and routes I’ve completed thus far: Butts Touched Master List

Have a good day, lovelies, and remember to touch all the butts.

[crumblingautumnleaves]

Rough Night

Requested by: ethans-seamstress

Summary: Ethan helps the reader through a particularly tough night.

Pairing(s): Ethan x Reader

Warnings: Lots of mentions of self-harm. Swearing. A bit of gore.

A/N: This was a tough one for me to write. If any of you are struggling with depression, or just going through a tough time, then please speak to someone. If you don’t think anyone will listen then TALK TO ME. I will do my best to help.

Blood dripped off your fingertips and you watched it swirl down the drain of the bathroom sink. Your mind was blank as you turned the tap on and let the cold water run over your new cuts littering your arm, only wincing slightly at the stinging sensation. Wrapping your forearm up in a thread-bare towel, you rinsed the basin of any leftover blood and prepared to make your exit.

You tiptoed out into the hall, careful not to slam the door behind you or let any of the floorboards creak. If Ethan knew what you had been doing he would be absolutely livid. You had promised him that if you ever felt the need to hurt yourself you would talk to him about it. Six months without an incident and you just couldn’t take it anymore, the pain was so strong, you couldn’t help but lock yourself in the bathroom and snap the blade off of a razor.

“Y/N?” You froze when you heard a voice come from down the corridor, slowly turning towards it and seeing Ethan leaning against the door leading to the living room, soaked in the dim light coming from his lamp and dressed in his pyjamas complete with tired eyes and scruffy blue hair. “What are you doing up so late?”

“No reason,” you answered defensively. “Why are you up?”

“I’m behind schedule, just finishing up on the last video.”

“Well, I needed the bathroom. I’m going to bed now,” you told him, ready to walk away.

“Wait, let me at least say goodnight,” he called, walking closer and holding out a hand to grab yours. You yanked it out of his clasp and held it out of his reach. His expression fell at your actions and you felt a small gnawing feeling of guilt in your stomach. “Did I do something wrong?” His voice was barely above a whisper and his eyes were scanning your face for any clues.

“No. No! Of course not. You didn’t do anything wrong, I- I guess I’m just tired.” You dropped your gaze, not able to look him in the eye any longer.

There was a brief pause before Ethan gently wrapped his fingers around your wrist and pulled it up into the light. You turned your head as he unravelled the make-shift bandage off of your arm and tutted slightly.

“Come on,” he said quietly yet firmly. “We need to talk.”

“So,” Ethan started, pushing you onto the armchair and crossing his arms. “What happened? Because last time I checked you were fine.”

“I guess I'm not then,” you replied bluntly. Ethan glared at you, staring you down until you had to break eye contact. “It’s just been a rough week,” you sighed, finally giving in.

“What happened?” He asked softly.

You shrugged and rubbed your arm, stopping when Ethan gave you a disapproving glance. “Just minor things piled on top of one another amplified by depression.” That’s how things normally were for you. You were normally desensitised to smaller issues, but your mental health struggled to cope with too many problems at once before shutting down.

“When did this start up again?”

“About two weeks ago,” you answered. “It started off with not wanting to go to sleep, but then not wanting to wake up. I think I stopped eating full meals around last Wednesday. But this is the first time I’ve hurt myself, I swear.”

Ethan let out a deep breath and ran his hands over his face. “What the fuck happened to talking to me, Y/N?” He shouted. You were shocked at his change of tone but let him continue. “Do you have any idea how worried I get when you feel this way? How useless I feel when I can’t even make you happy, let alone stop you from hurting yourself.”

“Ethan-”

“No, I’m not finished,” he cut you off, his voice filled with rage. “I thought we had a deal. You would tell me when you didn’t feel great and I would do my best to help you get through it. Jesus, Y/N, I know I can’t cure your mental health over night, but it would be nice if you at least let me know when you needed me.”

“I don’t need anyone,” you whispered, staring down at your hands which were locked around your knees.

“Bullshit,” Ethan said harshly. “No way am I standing by while the love of my life slits their wrists and feels like they can’t even talk to me.”

Moments that felt like an eternity passed and you didn’t dare look up once to meet his gaze. Ethan collected himself and softly apologised for his uncharacteristic outburst.

“I’m just so… angry that you think you’re all alone.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Emotion was finally flooding back to you and you were hit by a thousand at a time. Without any warning you burst into tears, two weeks of emptiness being forced out of the way by an onslaught of anger, sadness, malcontent and shame. “Ethan, you don’t deserve this. I just didn’t want you to worry about me. I thought I could deal with it on my own but I couldn’t. Please, forgive me.”

He scrambled off the sofa and knelt by your feet, taking your hands in his and pressing them to his lips. “No, please forgive me. I should have noticed you were upset and yet, when I did, I was too late to stop it. I love you Y/N Y/L/N, and I don’t want you to go through this by yourself.”

“I love you too,” you breathed through the tears. “Help me, please.”

Ethan nodded and pulled you to your feet, leading you into the bedroom before laying you down and covering you with a blanket. “Get some rest. Tomorrow, I’ll book a therapy session for you so you can talk to a professional. You need to speak to someone about it if it gets this bad. I will stay with you the whole time if you’d prefer. But, for now, sleep and know that I’m right by your side. I’ll always be by your side.”

As you drifted off to sleep, the exhaustion hitting you like a bus, the last thing you heard was Ethan humming your favourite song, stroking your hair as you closed your eyes.

“You are not alone.”

[staciabimanyu]

Dealing with Vit D Deficiency

In April 2019, upon having entered into a swimming competition, I felt sudden shoulder and neck pains on the left side of my body. The pain went on and off and became worse during the night. I was in my lowest shape in June 2019 as the pain started striking my inner ear and so I went to an ENT specialist to get my ear checked but the specialist did not find anything.

           I initially suspected that I had a pinched nerve which further led me to a chiropractor, who I hoped was the one who could end my misery. During the first visit, the chiropractor did some physical examinations and said, “You’ve got a Thoracic Outlet Syndrome (TOS)”. He explained that the healing process would not be instant and so I need to be patient as It would take several sessions of therapy to achieve 100% recovery. I had no idea what that was so I did a Google research right after I went home. After reading through people’s threads and replies in one of so many TOS forums I have found (I was quite surprised by the fact that there is actually a lot of people who have been struggling with TOS), I discovered that the symptoms did sound pretty similar to what I have experienced, so I thought it would not hurt if I continue the therapy sessions the following weeks.

A one-time therapy session which lasted for 45 minutes consists of acupuncture, dry cupping, and infrared exposure treatments. Unfortunately, after undergoing four sessions of therapy, my neck and shoulder pain did not seem to get better, and the worse part was that there were some additional symptoms that suddenly appear, such as leg numbness and vertigo, and that was when my husband said, “I think you need to see an orthopedist and get your body medically checked. It is probably not a pinched nerve at all.” I completely agreed and immediately made an appointment with an orthopedist who had been taking good care of me when I had a Jones Fracture a year ago. This orthopedist wrote me a recommendation letter to the radiology department to have a shoulder MRI and Thorax X-Ray and I brought the results of such tests to him the following week and that was when the conversation took place.

The orthopedist : (Looking at my MRI and X-Ray result) All looks good. You only have a mild tendinosis in your left shoulder, it’s probably the inflammation that has been causing your neck and shoulder pain all this time. It's not a big thing but It is just kind of rare to come across this tendinosis case in a patient at your age as it is related to degenerative bones, which commonly found in elderly people.”

I was actually a bit worried, I felt like Benjamin Button.

Me: Is it like dangerous? Is there any sort of treatment to cure this?

The orthopedist: No, it is not dangerous. All you need to do is stretching, I will show you how.

After teaching me how to stretch, in which he said I should do it at least 4 times a day, I began to ask more questions.

Me: So, doc, I assume this stretching result won't likely be perceived until at least a week from now, my guess? Is there anything that can instantly reduce my pain?

The orthopedist: For now, I recommend to give you a steroid injection in your shoulder.  

Me: How does this steroid injection works? Would the pain go away permanently?

The orthopedist: No, only temporary.

Since I was so in pain at the time, I approved very quickly to receive the injection.

When the syringe was pinched to my shoulder skin, it felt normal, just like another blood test injection I usually had. But when the liquid being injected, I can feel the pain to the bone.

And the conversation continued.

Me: Doc, any suggestion on what actions need to be taken if the pain recurrent or even got worse?

The orthopedist: I'm sure that the inflammation would heal itself in a couple of days after receiving this steroid injection and after taking the medicine that I am about to prescribe you. However, apart from your tendinosis, you have a sharp-edged shoulder bone which can potentially cause you to feel pain in the future. In which case, I recommend you to have surgery.

Sharp-edged shoulder bone? Why didn't he mention it in the first place? And surgery? Is there any better solution? I did expect the treatment would be less dramatic than surgery.

Me: Surgery? Seriously? For what?

The orthopedist: Yes, to cut your bones. You’ll feel a lot better after surgery.

“Thank you for your recommendation Doc, but no, thanks”, I whispered in my heart.

Sometimes, visiting a doctor can be so devastating, especially if surgery seems to be the one and only answer. Also, he did not seem to find the root cause of my other symptoms (i.e vertigo and leg numbness).

I did the stretching that the orthopaedist taught me to. However, a few days after the orthopaedist visit took place, my neck and shoulder pain got worse. I was so in pain, I could not concentrate on my work and one day I felt a sudden stabbing pain in my upper chest. I really thought I was having a heart attack and so I went to a cardiologist to get my heart checked. My EKG test result was surprisingly normal so he sent me to an internist to see if my GERD issue was recurrent because after reading my medical record, he suspected that the culprit of all of the symptoms I had was the GERD issue.

I followed his instruction and went to an internist. All the internist did was measuring my heart rate. She then came into conclusion that the GERD is what has been causing all the symptoms merely upon observing that my heart rate was so high. She looked at me and said “You look really worried and that’s the first thing that I notice from all of my patients who have been struggling with GERD. Their anxiety was written all over their face, just like you” Dude, of course I look worried. I AM WORRIED for not knowing what happens with me after all the tests and consultation that I went through. And so her diagnosis was that I had an anxiety disorder which leads to GERD. GERD ok but anxiety disorder? I told my best friend this story and her first reaction was “I don’t accept that you have been diagnosed to have an anxiety disorder. Dude, you are like the most chill person I have ever met.”

And neither do I. I felt the urgency to get a second opinion, so I went to the Second and Third Internist just to hear a similar diagnosis like “You need to be more relax and maintain your stress. It’s all in your head. “ I have never felt so desperate in my life before.

At the bottom of my heart, was pretty damn sure that those were not GERD symptoms, cause it felt different. I have been battling with GERD for years and I notice the difference. When you have a GERD problem, the chest pain that you tend to feel will be like the heartburn type of pain, which in my current case, what I felt is more like a stabbing pain to one point area of my upper chest.

I became more and more frustrated each day. One more additional symptom that I started to feel was that I can't stand to type for more than an hour cause my thumbs would start to generate a tingling sensation. It’s been really disturbing cause It made me less productive on my work, so I made an appointment with a neurologist to see if I have a carpal tunnel syndrome. After having received numerous diagnosis from many different specialists, I was a bit skeptical that this neurologist would finally be able to find the root cause and provide me with a permanent solution.

I still remember I prayed the night before the visit, “God, I am so tired with all of this. I began to feel depressed as it seems like I am only spinning around in a circle of a never-ending searching process. I hope this neurologist will be your incarnation to help me solve my health issue. “

The neurologist sent me to have an MRI (a different type of MRI from the previous MRI that I had before). It is called Braxial Plexus MRI. He also sent me to the laboratory to have a blood test. (CPK, LDH and Vitamin D3). Like I have said before I was soo skeptical. Another MRI..but a blood test? This is actually something new. But I thought let's just see. I brought the result the next day and went to see him again.

He looked at the MRI, “It's all good”.

I am not happy with his statement. I want him to find something. I want an answer.

Then he looked at my blood test and said “Ah there you go. You have a severe vitamin D deficiency. Your level is 9 ng/ml, where the minimum range should be at least 30ng/mL ”

At first, was like are you kidding me? I drank milk every day, I eat cheese every once in a week.

My husband replied with a question, “How is that possible? Does it mean she is malnourished?”

Me: “But I drank milk every day”

The neurologist: You can drink milk as much as you want but still lack of Vitamin D. You need to sunbathe. You deficiency is simply because you never or seldom went outside and did not get enough sun exposure.

It's 100% true. I never went outside my office, not even during lunch. My company provides lunch for their employee (which is good), but it is ironically what has been pampering me not to go outside.

My husband: So when is the best time to sunbathe and how long do you have to sunbathe each day?

The neurologist: The best time to sunbathe is between 7 to 9am, for 30 minutes maximum. But given that your level is so low, I will prescribe you a 5000iu vitamin D3 supplement that you need to consume daily. It cannot solve your problem overnight, in fact, it will take three months at a minimum for you to start seeing progress. But I am sure you will feel a lot better once your level is up. So, let's meet again 3 months from now and let's see how the progress will be.

I feel like what he has been explaining makes more sense to me than what other specialists had told me.

Again, I did plenty of Google Research to find out what Vitamin D deficiency is, what are the symptoms, and what are the treatments. I suddenly felt pretty relieved as I seemed to finally get an answer.

I have been consuming vitamin D for a week now, combining it with 5 to 15 minutes sunbathing. I have not yet been able to say that it works (as its too soon to tell) but I do feel progress, which is a significantly reduced shoulder and neck pain. 

I am going to update you with my progress three months from now.

So, see you then!

[issom-har]

Under cut for Stormblood talk and general personal rambling.

I don’t know what it was about Heavensward, but I logged in the night it went live, got as far as Ishgard, and then just...logged out. For about three months. I only logged back in as often as was necessary to make sure I still had my house. And then I played sporadically--sometimes not for months at a time--for something like a year.

I wanted to love Heavensward so badly, I was excited for it when it was first announced, and then something about it didn’t grab me. At all. I had to force myself not to skip dialogue and cutscenes. I never do that. I have never lost interest in something I loved like that under circumstances that were no fault of the game itself, and I was honestly pretty devastated. I lost all confidence in my ability to RP, because I was having such non-feelings toward the expac content that it manifested as total apathy toward my character. What could have caused it? Did I not have the attention span to read quest dialogue suddenly? Was I just utterly bored with my main? Had the pleasure and reward centers of my brain been infested by Depression Silverfish and finally destroyed? I had some theories, but none of them could fully explain it. 

Some of the things that might have contributed to my pile of blah:

Janvier had no personal stake in the storyline of HW at all. Canonically, he went to Ishgard at the start of the expansion exactly once, at which point he offered to let Saint dunk him off a cliff into the Sea of Clouds for being a lying sack of shit. Realistically, he would have immediately realized he couldn’t handle being that close to a war zone and gone home to get his head screwed on straight and refocus on his priorities. It really didn’t make sense for him to involve himself in a war before outright conflict with the Garleans became unavoidable.

The zone design immediately turned me off. Sea of Clouds was beautiful, but the story was so on rails that I felt like I was actually being punished for exploring before I was done with the MSQ. I was used to stopping and hanging out in places for a while before moving on with the story, but there was limited stuff to do in many places pre-flying. You were supposed to get that, then come back.

Crafting and gathering, my eternal relaxation activities, seemed to get way more complicated. Beyond the collectable system, node clusters were placed to encourage the use of flying mounts (and discourage gathering pre-flying). Lots more stuff on timed nodes. HW crafts were more complicated and required a lot of cross-class stuff, and even some basic mats (cured leather, thread, etc) took either timed resources or random amounts of pre-HW materials. 

It was difficult for me to be invested in the antagonists. The Heavens’ Ward themselves I mostly care about because my friends (one in particular) have fleshed them out in headcanons and fic, but in the story itself they’re basically exactly what they are in the end: extensions of Thordan. Thordan was interesting, but he himself was a personification of the attitudes that made Ishgard a hellhole more than a compelling person.

Ishgard was a hellhole, albeit a very pretty, snowy one. There were no places I wanted to sit and hang out, nothing that looked particularly inviting. Big monolith buildings and imposing wide walkways would have drawn me in if it had been a friendlier city, like Jeuno maybe? I could go to the Brume or the Foundations to see people in abject misery, or go up top to watch the nobility glide across beautiful, empty streets. All of it left me with the appropriate uncomfortable feeling, but I didn’t want to set a home point there, if you catch me.

There were a lot of missed opportunities everywhere. After a start in which it seemed like she’d get NPC main character status, Ysayle was criminally misused. The explosive end to the 2.x series--so important it was referenced in the CGI opening for HW--amounted to very little. Midgardsormr, also set up to be a major player, rarely appeared. Those amounted to most of the things I went in very interested in. The Churning Mists, a beautiful zone filled with mysterious ruins and evidence of human/dragon cooperation, is entirely taken up by a sprawling web of quests about running mundane chores for throw pillows with wings.  

Entirely on me: I created Janvier with RDM in mind for him and misjudged how difficult it would be to play him as something else for years and years. It didn’t make a whole lot of sense for him to travel as a conjurer. Having him go back to MNK felt slightly off, like negative character development. RDM hit and it was perfect for him and I instantly enjoyed playing him again. It was wild.

In the end I think the problem was that it discouraged playing with the things that usually keep me busy (exploring, crafting, and gathering) out of the gate, while just not appealing enough to me on a personal level to keep me interested. 

To say that I’m relieved by being blown away by Stormblood is putting it super mildly. I had to force myself to log off tonight. I’m really, really happy to have confirmation that it was a case of incompatibility with HW and not a 95% reduction in my ability to experience joy. That said, I feel pretty weird that I so firmly disliked an expac that most of my friends loved that I probably would have quit altogether if not for Palace of the Dead. Especially since there wasn’t anything wrong with HW! It was a good expansion! I actually quite liked the dungeon design, and exploring the zones once I had flying, Churning Mists in particular! I think it’s just me.