#to brush off what he endures or try to glorify it

[wickjump]

ok i rambled a lot in the tags and there’s a STUPID TAG LIMIT so my thoughts are CONDENSED and LAMEand not smart. but i could be. i could be if i wanted to. also the second half of this is literally me just talking about krepicolor im So sorry i got so off topic and distracted. the first half is good tho and makes sense i think

Why am I chill with most color ships but eh or 😡 and 🙄 or 🫤 on most killer ships

[angelanimedesaray]

Wings in the Dark Chapter 5:  Camaraderie

AN:  More Cat and Mouse.  I swear its gonna start to crescendo, guys, we’re almost there XD  There’s just so much to establish!

Characters:  Fem!Vampire!Reader, Levi, Petra, Oluo, Gunther, Eld

Pairing:  (Eventual)  Levi x Fem!Vampire!Reader

Warnings:  Language, Loneliness, Depressed Thoughts

Word Count:  8146

<----Previous Chapter    Masterlist    Next Chapter---->

*Reader’s POV*

While it wasn’t the most shocking thing that had ever happened to you, being instated as a member, but not technically a member, of the Special Operations Squad was definitely up there on your list of most surprising things that had happened to you.  The weird in-between position they gave you to try and mediate how unprecedented it was to have a rookie join Levi Squad after just one expedition may have been a glorified lackey, but it was still a position with Captain Levi’s Squad.

Of course, right now, that consisted of doing the menial chores, message delivery, and other small tasks like that, but you were still a part of the team.  They’d only given you this aid position they’d made on the spot because you were so new, and it did a decent job of putting you at the bottom of the food chain until you were more seasoned.  However, you were still considered part of Captain Levi’s Squad--you had your own private chambers and everything, which meant you wouldn’t have to worry about not waking up anyone while you snuck out of the barracks every once in a while to get something to eat.

Also, now that you were officially being placed with a squad, you knew what people you had to try and made friends with.  Before you’d been hesitant--sure, you understood that the Scouts operated in a way that was going to make teamwork and camaraderie important, so you were going to have to be more social, but you still wanted to be careful about who you let get close.  You still had an instinct to keep everyone at an arm’s length besides those you /had/ to keep close, which you had rationalized would include whoever you were put under and the rest of your squad.

While you’d known Levi was watching you and the rumors had been running rampant that a rookie would be joining his squad, you’d been well aware that he wasn’t watching you because he wanted to add you to the group--he was suspicious of you.  That sparring match you’d had with him had tipped him off, and he hadn’t relented in his pursuit ever since then.  In fact, when he’d told you that you were going to be a part of his squad, he didn’t look entirely pleased about it.  Sure, Captain Levi was usually hard to read and usually appeared distant or unapproachable, but the look in his eyes had been...colder.  It made you suspicious that having you on the squad had not been his decision, or at the very least it had been one he’d made despite his reservations.

Keep your enemies close, right?

Once it was on the table that this might be a position meant solely as an excuse to keep a closer eye on you, it made your skin crawl, and you approached every situation with caution.  You had to watch every step, like you were walking across a tightrope and would drown if you slipped and fell into the waters down below.

When you’d joined the Scouts, you knew that it was going to be difficult to balance being a Scout with hiding your true nature, but this was far beyond what you had expected.  It made you dearly wish that you had thrown that match back on the training grounds, that he’d never gotten a sense that you were hiding something so fiercely.  

Soon, you were going to be kept up at night with an internal struggle to either stick it out and try to endure so you could do what you came here to do, or if you should just take off and slink back into the shadows.

But you couldn’t bear the thought of going back to that life, as much as it might have been ‘safer’ in a way.  You wanted desperately to be here--but did you want it bad enough that you were going to throw all caution to the wind, risk the Captain getting too close to your secret.  In the past, before you’d joined the military, you’d killed the people who came too close to exposing you.  But that wasn’t an option, here.  You knew how valuable Captain Levi was to the Scouts--humanity couldn’t afford to lose him, so you couldn’t afford to touch him.  Your only choice was to play this god forsaken cat and mouse game and pray that you came out on top.

Thankfully, the other members of the squad weren’t aware of the cat and mouse you and Levi were caught up in--not yet, anyway.  Though they were understandably confused and even a little irritated at the inclusion of a still-green rookie, even if it was as an aid.  Maybe the aid position caused a bit more tension, because a new position had been created just so you could be added to the group.

Give it time, you told yourself as you continued cleaning your private room that had been assigned to you, currently working on cleaning the desk off until it had a polished shine to it.  Even if Levi hadn’t added you to the squad because he necessarily wanted you here, you were still going to prove that you could belong here, if they would let you.

“Did you finish with the stables?”

“Yes, sir.  Mucked out, equipment cleaned, horses fed, watered, and brushed, shoes cleaned, all of it.”

“What about cleaning inside, have you done all the tasks you were assigned?”

“All except what Oluo asked me to do.  I haven’t got there yet."

"Well, get to it.  And when you're done come down to the training grounds for some training."

"Yes, sir!"

As you walked away from Eld, your ears picked up on a passing comment he made to Gunther when he thought you were out of earshot.

“Is it just me, or is it frustrating how easily and quickly she tends to get all of her tasks done?  I can’t even find anything wrong with it, so I can’t claim she’s rushing through it!”

"You too?  I thought it was just Oluo complaining about that."

Just as you'd suspected.  The others weren't pleased with your easy access to this position.  They weren't going to say anything because they trusted Levi’s judgement and as far as they knew it was his decision, but that didn't mean they weren't going to be at least a little irritated.  How long had it taken before they'd been added to Levi’s squad?  How many expeditions, how much hard work?  By all accounts, it looked like you'd had smooth and effortless sailing into a position among the elite.

The fact they kept having you do the shit chores was just a way to kick you back in the dirt and remind you that you were still a rookie, and they were the veterans with experience.

However, you didn't complain.  You could do the jobs faster than anyone without loosing accuracy because of it.  Not to mention you felt it might be cathartic for their frustrations.  Though, now it seemed they had a new reason to be frustrated.

You'd tone it back to appease them, but Levi already knew what your full effort looked like with the cleaning jobs--he'd know you were holding back, and you highly doubted he'd appreciate that when it came to cleaning, knowing his standards.

Quickly, you made your way back inside and up to Oluo's chambers, stopping outside the door and giving a firm knock.

"Who's there?"

"It's L/N, you said you had a job for me to do?"

"It's about time you showed up.  Get in here!"

After he'd officially invited you inside, you opened the door, stepping inside and expecting to see paperwork or supplies or something else you would have to deliver or put away.

Nope.  Oluo was standing there with cleaning supplies presented in the middle of the room.  You immediately knew where this was going, and even you could tell it wasn't going to end well.

"Start cleaning, rookie.  I've got more important things I have to get done, and I want it shining by the time I get back," Oluo ordered, complete with a puffed out chest.

You were supposed to follow their orders without question, but you knew Oluo was taking advantage of that fact.  Maybe he was hoping having you clean his quarters before Levi inspected them later today would help him look better to the Captain.  But you were also certain that Levi would recognize that it was your work and not Oluo's

For Oluo's sake, since you were certain he would be the one getting in trouble, you pushed back slightly.

"Doesn't Captain Levi prefer if we clean our own spaces?" You asked as you picked up the broom.  Oluo turned by the door, fixing you with the imitation of an expression befitting a superior who'd just heard a subordinate talk back.

"Huh?  How long have you been here, rookie, compared to me?" Oluo challenged.  You shrugged, turning back to the cleaning supplies and the room you were supposed to clean.

His funeral.

The window was open to let in natural light and try to chase away the gloomy atmosphere in your room, silence filling the space except for the birds outside and the scratching against the paper you were currently drawing on.  Your eyes, however, were unfocused, looking past the piece you were drawing and instead getting lost in the sea of your depressed thoughts.

For three years you’d been back among people, mingling and being a part of society, but never had you felt so...ostracized.  You were among people, but you weren’t close to anyone.  Your peers thought you were a haughty perfectionist ice queen and were irritated by how easily everything came to you, Captain Levi was suspicious that there was something you were hiding and was watching your every move with a coldness in his eyes, and your new squad mates were currently using you as the gopher to dump all the chores they didn’t want to do onto you while giving you examining, dubious looks from a distance trying to figure out why you were even here.

You sat alone at meals, you didn’t go anywhere on your days off--the closest thing you had to a companion were the horses, and most of them were still frightened by you.

You wanted to be here, but...it was getting so hard just to be here.  Was it really worth it if you were going to spend your days feeling like this?

On the paper spread out in front of you, you had a picture drawn from the mental image in your mind’s eye--a single flower in a barren spot surrounded by lush field.  The sun shone everywhere else, but this single spot was cast in shadow.  Despite the barren ground and the lack of sunlight, the flower was trying to bloom, partially budded, some petals trying to uncurl, but ice covered it’s petals and held prisoner it’s stem, restraining it in the icy chill, needing assistance but nothing around it willing or able to help.

You put down what you were drawing with, a lump in your throat and tears in your eyes as you headed over to your bed and stretched out on top of the neatly made covers, arms digging under the pillow you buried your face in before tears could overflow.

You were surrounded by people, but you’d never felt so lonely, and you wanted it to change.  Even though you’d signed up for this and known it would be difficult, you couldn’t take living like this anymore.  Something had to change.  You didn’t know how you were going to keep your secret while trying to let people in enough to form bonds, but it was the only real option that you had.

The guys were all dubious of you, you could tell from overheard conversations and the looks in their eyes, but Petra...well, you thought if you were going to start trying to build a friendship somewhere, she might be the one to go to.  She’d been a bit more...open, about the whole arrangement, and she was actually asking for help and trying to get a feel for you while everyone else seemed to be going out of their way to remind you that you were at the bottom of the food chain right now.

Starting tomorrow...you were going to try and be a companion and hopefully manage to find some friendship.  Starting with Petra.

*Petra’s POV*

The mess hall was noisy as ever, making it a little surprising that Captain Levi was still sitting with them at the table after repeating the lecture he'd given Oluo later about doing his own cleaning.  Now that Oluo had attempted to have the rookie clean his space and then pass it off as his own, the rest of them got to get the warning to do their own responsibilities without shoving them all off on the new girl.

Petra had felt bad that she seemed to be getting all the crap jobs nobody wanted to do and then some while the others seemed determined to make sure she knew her place, but she hadn't said anything because not once had the woman complained or looked the least bit upset by it.  Until today, Petra had been unsure how to even approach her, something about her making her seem closed off and unreachable.

However, today she had approached Petra, quietly asking Petra if she would teach her the nuances for how everything was cleaned around here.  Preferences of soaps and organization, what went where and the like.  You could clean till everything shone like a new coin, bur preferences had to be taught or learned.  She'd been aware of it, and she had been humble enough to approach Petra for answers.

It was only when she was approached that Petra suddenly realized how alone the woman seemed.  She never ate with them--in fact she was certain she ate alone--and she was never seen around anyone from her years as a cadet, she didn't seem to leave headquarters to visit family, and if you needed to find her she was either alone in her room or with the horses in the stable.  She was never with someone unless she was doing her job.

The thing that made Petra realize all this was how she was approached.  The woman shifted her weight, a white knuckle grip on the broom in her hand despite visible restraint, her eyes fixed down and to the side, a slight tremble in her hand and a hunch of her shoulders like she was anticipating some negative reaction, or at least reluctance.

It wasn't right.  She was part of their squad, and it was their job to make sure she felt included.  Captain Levi must have felt that she was ready on some level to be here, and they were her comrades.  At the very least, she should have a place among them--she shouldn't be so alone.

So, while everyone else was chatting as usual around the table, Petra kept an eye out for their new squad member.  It took a while, but when the woman finally appeared and left the line to get her food, Petra attempted to catch her attention without the others noticing.

They locked gazes, and Y/N hesitated before she approached their table, making the others look up as she came astride the table.

"May I sit here?" she asked hesitantly, gaze flickering around at the others and lingering briefly on Captain Levi at the head of the table.

"Of course," Petra said instantly, gesturing to an empty seat beside her and flashing a look at the others daring them to disagree while Y/N was taking her seat.  "It's about time you started sitting with your squad."

Her cheeks tinged pink in mild embarrassment, Y/N took a few bites of her meal, clearly uncertain about what to do next.

Well, if everyone else was just going to sit here in awkward silence, and Y/N wasn’t going to take the initiative because she wasn’t sure how, Petra would just have to do it herself.

“So, where are you from?” Petra asked her.  It was probably the best, simple answer to get the ball rolling on conversation.

“A small town in Wall Rose--it tends to get overlooked, and it's usually quiet around there except the occasional scandal.”

“Do you have much family back home?”

“No, it’s just me.”

The way she said it was short, clearly ending the topic there, but she managed to not make it sound mean--just that she wasn’t entirely comfortable talking about it, which made sense.  Petra continued to chat with her, asking simple questions to try and learn more about her, basing some off her observations of the woman--like if she was good with animals.  Apparently animals weren’t always that fond of her, but she had a soft spot for them despite some animals distaste of her.  She thought she might be good with cats or birds, but hadn’t really had the opportunity to test her theory out.

After a bit of back and forth between Petra and Y/N about their lives and learning about one another, the others started to join in as well--aside from Captain Levi, who seemed content to just focus on his meal and listen while everyone talked around him.  As the conversation flowed a little more naturally, Y/N started to loosen up and relax, taking charge of the conversation a few times to ask about the others as well as she bloomed from a closed off background character in a novel to a more outgoing and engaging individual.  It was quite the change to witness.  She still withdrew into herself with more personal questions, especially about her past before joining the Scouts, which gave Petra the impression that the Scouts were a sort of fresh start for the woman.  She shared with them why she’d joined the Scouts, which none of them could deny was a valid enough reason after seeing her in action.  She had skill, and if she wanted those skills to be put to use, the Scouts were arguably the best place for them, and the faction of the military with the strongest need for them.  Besides, who didn’t want to feel useful?  Unfortunately, many Scouts died, and some died so quickly it was easy to wonder if their deaths ever had any meaning to begin with, if it had been worth it.  However, Petra had the feeling this one wasn’t going to be one of those recruits that appeared and disappeared without ever leaving much of a mark.  She just might be around for a while, especially if she was going to take the time to learn from the elites she’d been placed with and stayed grounded, level-headed, and smart.

As the questions drifted away from the personal, in part because of Y/N’s continued reluctance to delve too deeply into the personal, they started peppering her with the twenty-questions kinds of inquiries.  What were her likes and dislikes, favorites, hobbies, fears, aspirations, that kind of thing.  Some she was able to answer relatively quickly, even if it wasn’t simple, such as having no clear favorite because she liked so many, and other times she hesitated, such as when she was asked aspirations, because she hadn’t given it much thought, being so focused on this current stage of her life.

“What about biggest fears?”

“Oluo!” Petra protested, giving him a dirty look.  They were all eating, and this question alone could get extremely dark considering the horrors they faced every day outside the wall.

“What?  It’s a legitimate question.  Some people are scared of spiders, others heights--though you don’t get much of that one in the military, I think--it could be all kinds of things.”

"I think the answer to that is a little too morbid for dinner conversation," Y/N said with a slightly weak smile, which made Petra think it might actually be something to do with Titans.  If it was, it was probably best they didn’t hear it, just in case.

"Nah, it's fine, we're sharing--so what is it?  Fire?  Dolls?  Dead fish?" Oluo asked cheekily.

"Um...being buried alive, actually," Y/N answered, looking down and picking at her food.

"Damn, that is a pretty scary thought.  Wasn't expecting that one," Oluo muttered.  Petra wasn’t paying attention to him--she was reading Y/N’s body language, how she’d seemed to withdraw into herself and her hand was trembling as she pushed around the food left on her plate.  It was most likely at the thought of this fear of hers, if Petra had to guess.  The mental imagery alone was terrifying.

At the other end of the table, Levi was staring at Y/N intently, having noticed the same things, and a little more.

“Now that Oluo has officially tried to sabotage the evening, let’s try some gossip:  I hear you had a knack for sneaking out in the Cadet Corps and never got caught.  What were you doing?  I’ve heard some interesting theories,” Gunther said with a perceiving glint in his eyes.  Y/N sighed even as everyone’s attention centered on her.

“God damn those rumors are going to follow me for the rest of my life, aren’t they?” she mused, not denying that she snuck out as she took a slow drink.

“Well, Rookie?  Care to share?” Oluo asked as she sat down her drink.

She turned to look at the rest of the group, and then with an unreadable expression and in a completely deadpan tone, stated, "I strip naked in the pale moonlight and conduct blood rituals to achieve perfection."

There was a heartbeat, and then snorts, chuckles, a ripple of amusement through the group at the joke.

"Rookie's got a sense of humor," Oluo mused.

Y/N’s lips quirked towards a half smile, taking another drink.  "Wish I could say the same for you."

There was a bit more laughter this time, even as Oluo scowled, no one bothering to hide their amusement at the comment.

"And some snark, to boot," Gunther snickered as Oluo sulked.  “But really, though, what were you doing?”

Y/N sighed, setting down her drink again.  “It wasn’t...actually, you know what,” she said with a sparkle in her eye and a mischievous smile.  “I hear there’s a pot for the theories.  Place bets on it, maybe one day I’ll actually tell you.  Maybe I won’t.”

“Oh, come on,” Oluo complained loudly.

“Now that’s just mean,” Petra said with a cluck of her tongue and a shake of her head while Y/N settled back down, visibly proud of her teasing.

Caught up in their banter and companionable discussion, no one noticed how at the head of the table, laid back in his chair, Levi showed no sign of amusement, his gaze fixated on Y/N with a sharp, cold look.

*Reader’s POV*

After you’d taken your first steps towards developing a warmer relationship with your squad mates, things started to go a bit easier for you.  You were still at the bottom of the food chain, and the responsibilities as an aid hadn’t changed, but you didn’t think you were getting as much shit dumped on you.  It probably helped that Captain Levi had apparently given them a lecture about doing their own chores instead of getting lazy and shoving them all off on her.

For the most part, it was Petra that you were getting close to.  The others were becoming cordial, and you had even approached Eld asking him if he could give you lessons on ODM gear technique after hearing he was quite skilled at utilizing the ODM gear.  That seemed to have helped the relationship there--frankly, whenever you showed a bit of humility about still having a lot to learn, they warmed up a bit more.

It seemed there had been concerns that you would be an arrogant big headed pain in their asses with how quickly you’d shot into the elite squad, and showing them that you still considered yourself in a learning position and not above anyone helped assuage those fears.

Captain Levi...was as suspicious of you as ever.  Except now you were around him enough to feel the chill in his gaze even after you left his presence.  That was a relationship you weren’t sure you were in a position to improve.  You’d given him plenty of reasons to be suspicious of you, but you were still trying your damnedest not to give him a reason to mistrust you.  Maybe it would just take time to prove yourself in his eyes, but at this rate, it was looking like a /deep/ hole you were going to have to climb out of, and for some reason, it just kept getting deeper.

Since it was going to be the more difficult task, you resolved to worry about making a better relationship with Captain Levi later and instead focus on improving the relationship with your squad mates.  Firstly, you didn’t want to be a kiss ass, especially cause you knew it would be obvious.  Second, ideally by the time you set about improving your relationship with the Captain, he might have warmed up a bit to you.

At the very least, it would be nice if that chill wasn’t in his gaze anymore.

Right now, Petra was the closest thing to a confidant and friend that you had.  After you had initially approached her about learning the nuances for cleaning, she’d taken the initiative to help you learn the ropes and adjust to the other nuances of being in Levi Squad, which involved a lot of dos and don’ts.  She’d even pulled you aside one evening and sat you down so she could teach you how to properly make Captain Levi’s tea how he liked it, so that if or when he asked for it--and apparently he eventually asked everyone at some point, at least to gauge their tea making skills--you would be ready.  You’d been down in the kitchen for a surprisingly long time for that one, since apparently Levi liked his black tea made a very specific way, and additives weren’t usually his preference, so there would be no masking any off taste.

Shortly after, you’d decided to let Petra know about your secret little garden with your tea making herbs.  You’d gone when you both had some free time to spare, crouching down beside the garden and talking with her about the different herbs for your blends you’d added and why, complete with a prepared excuse about why the white sage was so far away from the rest and why you wore gloves when handling the plans at all times.

The white sage you told her needed to stay separate because it was aggressive and you didn’t want it taking over the smaller herbs, when you really kept it separate because it burned at the touch and you didn’t want to risk even accidentally brushing against it while you were working on this hobby of yours.  As for the gloves, it was the same concept--it let you handle the sage safely without harming yourself, though you told her it was for cleanliness and to keep your natural oils off of the tea herb plants.

As you’d chatted about the herbs in your garden and potential additions (With Petra suggesting adding the plants necessary to make some black tea blends of your own), you’d caught a familiar scent on the breeze, which led you to hone your senses on the individual’s breathing and heartbeat.  They were staying a safe distance away so as not to be noticed, but close enough that if something happened they would be there in an instant.  They were tense and cautious, listening intently to what was being discussed.

It seemed Captain Levi had reached the point he didn’t trust you alone with the other members of Squad Levi in places that were hidden from the public eye.  Your best guess for his presence was that it was out of concern for Petra, wanting to make sure the other woman was truly safe in your presence.

Once again, you understood his cautiousness, and he wasn’t wrong to be cautious...but the level of distrust still cut.

After about a week or so spent developing a stronger bond with your new squad mates, as the time for another feed drew closer, you decided to confide in some of your concerns with Petra regarding Captain Levi--that you felt you might have made a bad impression on him early on and wanted a way to thaw some of the ice between you two that wouldn’t look like bribery or like you were trying to kiss ass.  You’d tossed a couple ideas around, already reassuring her that you were already intending to let time tell and let your own personality and abilities do most of the work, but that the chill was getting a little too uncomfortable on your end for you to keep going without making some kind of first step.

With an upcoming holiday and a debate about the best approach, you’d eventually settled on putting together a small gift of personalized tea blends.  Since you didn’t have anything mature in your garden for black tea, you had to go into town to get missing ingredients, going with Petra to get her opinion on the best leaves, best tea bags, any additions that you didn’t have in your garden back with the Scouts or that hadn’t matured enough to use anything from it yet like your rosebush.  After you had all of your materials, you’d headed back to HQ and stowed yourselves away in the kitchen to get to work.

Petra had the idea to make a couple different variations--there would be plain black tea, of course, but you’d also had some personal blends that you two decided on, mostly based off of Petra’s experience making Levi his tea when asked to, and her past observations of the few times he’d added something to it.  You would have to divide and label the different teas in the container, but it would make it a little more personal.

However, you got her attention when you brought out the white sage, gloved hands grinding the herb up into a fine powder with a mortar and pestle.

“What’s that for?” she asked with a slight frown, watching you intently grinding at the white sage to make sure it was all powder and there weren’t any chunks left.

“I’m going...to add a light dusting of the white sage over the tea bags.  Hopefully not enough to alter the taste, but it will still be in there,” you murmured, covered fingers running through the powder to check how fine you’d made it.

“I know there’s superstitions about white sage cleansing of evil and bad spirits, but I know the Captain isn’t, and you didn’t take me for the superstitious type.  I just figured you had a fancy taste in tea,” Petra mused.  You almost snorted, but stopped yourself short considering you were currently directly over the powdered sage and didn’t want it to go everywhere.

“While I’m sure the superstitious intent of cleansing and warding off evil adds a bit more personal good intent, the short version is that it’s also supposed to do wonders for your health.  At least according to that book that’s still stashed in my desk,” you chuckled.

“I didn’t know that...a fine addition, then.  You really pay attention to that herbology book of yours,” Petra quipped with a friendly smile, which you returned before setting the white sage aside for later, when your tea bags were finished.

Though only you would know it, if he kept the tea and used it frequently--which was fairly likely with how much tea he drank--then he would have white sage in his system frequently.  That alone would protect him substantially from any other vampires lurking in the darkness.  You couldn’t predict the actions of other vampires, especially with how impulsive they could sometimes be, but if you were this deep in the Scouts, you would rather be safe than sorry, especially if someone with ill intentions managed to work their way in.

Sure, white sage helped with general health, but the real reason you were adding it was for your own peace of mind to help protect Captain Levi.  Why not take the opportunity to do so now that it had presented itself.  If you were in the position to, you would give similar gifts of secret protection to more than just him, but you only had so much white sage, and right now, he was the one you had an excuse to do this for.

Now you just had to hope he would accept it.

*Levi’s POV*

As much as Erwin had a point about being able to keep a closer eye on L/N by having her in his squad, Levi was finding the arrangement to be...complicating.  The way she presented herself, interacted with the others, the hard work she was putting in, he kept finding himself softening towards her because of it.  She was a good soldier who truly put in the effort and then some, and she was quickly growing on the rest of the team.  She was observant and thoughtful, and she paid close attention to the needs and preferences of the people around her.  She wasn’t boastful or arrogant, and apparently was trying to learn something from every member of the squad.  Petra had already taken her in like the natural mother hen she was and was around her quite often, but L/N could be seen around the others as well, just not as much.

For fuck’s sake, she’d even befriended his goddamn horse--he’d caught her in the stables sneaking him some oats and getting playfully nuzzled in return.  From her track record, he knew she had to have put in the effort for that to happen, too, considering the horses started off at least spooked by her.

But he knew she was hiding something.  He couldn’t ignore the signs he’d picked up on until now, how she dodged the personal and tried to keep her past hidden and buried, couldn’t forget the smell of the Underground and blood on her cape, her lack of a past, her unexplained, effortless natural skills, the regular sneaking out to do who knew what.  Maybe it wasn’t as insidious as he kept thinking it might be, maybe he should ease up a bit instead of freezing her out and treating her like an already convicted traitor.  But he couldn’t shake this feeling that whatever she was hiding was far from innocent, and he didn’t want to risk the betrayal, or getting his squad any more mixed up in it than they already were.

Though how well they were starting to take to her and how she was already being included into the fold, he was starting to get the sense that he was on a time limit before uncovering her as a traitor or something else terrible would cause unexpected damage.

Of course, he could take the paranoid route and assume that it was all clever, carefully planned movements, actions, and words meant to manipulate everyone around her into trusting her and letting their guards down.  Unfortunately, not only was that extremely paranoid, but she didn’t lack the sincerity behind much of what she did like certain psychopaths he’d met in the past.  She was very clearly hiding things, and she knew she was being watched, but her sincerity didn’t ring hollow because of it.

Fuck, he hated being in this position.  And he really hated that he’d agreed to Erwin’s idea to put him in this situation.  Even he knew he was being especially cold to her as if it would help put some distance between himself and the warm individual who was working her ass off for him and his squad in case the worst happened.  If he was wrong, though, and what she was hiding wasn’t as malicious as he felt it might be, then he was going to have a lot of reparations to deal with going forward, especially since she was already on the fast track to be a part of his squad for a long time moving forward so long as she continued to survive the expeditions.

It would be so much easier if she just came clean.  They wouldn’t have to do all this back and forth, cat and mouse, and they could move on.  Unfortunately, even though she knew she was being watched and Levi was suspicious, she wasn’t saying anything beyond that comment she’d made the night before the expedition.  Just another reason to believe whatever she was hiding was ugly.

There was a knock on his door, and his gaze flickered up to the shut door across from his desk, a faint frown on his face and Erwin’s findings about L/N spread out in front of him as he was in the middle of contemplating next moves.

“What?” he asked, squinting slightly at the door.

“It’s Y/N L/N.  May I come in, Captain?”

Instinctively, Levi covered the documents he’d been looking at with anything that didn’t have to do with her, from supply shortage lists, reports from Hange and Erwin about the Scouts in general, anything but what he was looking at about her, knowing she had a sharp eye and not wanting to risk her seeing just how much he was aware of.

“Fine, come in,” Levi muttered, arm lying against the desk as the door opened after he spoke, and L/N came in hesitantly, something in hand.

A delivery, then.  It was too much to hope she’d come to finally confess her secret to put an end to their unspoken chase.  A pity.

As she approached, Levi noticed that she was rather fidgety, obviously nervous or at least a little embarrassed, and she was clutching the tin box in her hand rather rightly.  What the hell was this about that suddenly she was a nervous cadet instead of the relatively calm and steady individual he’d been chasing secrets over up until now?

And then he remembered what day it was.

You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me...

As understanding lit up in his eyes, he held up a hand.  “If this is an attempt at a bribe, L/N--”

“It’s not,” she said firmly, and Levi had to give credit to the balls she had to cut him off like that.  She didn’t even seem to regret it, plowing forward before he could start down the path of rejection again.

“It’s a gift, no strings attached or anything like that.  Petra and I put it together, it’s for the holiday...and it’s also partially a thank you, on my part,” she said before taking a deep breath, setting the box down on his desk neatly on a clean space front and center before stepping away.  “I know I haven’t made the best impression, and you didn’t have to put me with your squad in any capacity, but you did, and I intend to make sure it’s not something you end up regretting.”

It seemed they were both well aware of the game they were trapped in, and she was well aware of her position.  He had to give her credit for not bolting, if she knew the position she was in and how much scrutiny she was under.  Either she didn’t feel what she had to hide was that serious, which wasn’t likely with how hard she was trying to hide it, or she was that confident in her abilities to keep the truth hidden.

He still wasn’t sure he could entirely believe that this wasn’t a bribe, though.  It could very easily be taken as one, or at least a thinly veiled attempt to get him to like her--or at least not be as cold with her.  And she’d involved Petra.  It was almost like she’d name dropped the other woman in order to prevent him from immediately rejecting the gift, because it wasn’t just her that had put effort into it.

Levi stared her up and down intently, eyes narrowed slightly out of suspicion as he tried to gauge her intentions and sincerity.  After a few tense moments where she simply endured his piercing stare without so much as a tremble--there was the collected individual he’d seen up until now--he looked away, down at the papers across his desk.

“If that’s all, you can go,” he said bluntly as a way of dismissal.  She was lucky he wasn’t telling her to take it back.  He wasn’t openly accepting it, either, he was still going to decide what to do with it, but he wasn’t sending it back with her, either.

It was the closest she was going to get to accepting a gift right now.

L/N snapped a salute, apparently deciding it was better not to say anything and to just take the semi-win and leave.  Once the door shut behind her, Levi waited a few more moments before he put the random papers he’d grabbed back where they belonged, pulling the tin close so he could get a look at what was inside now that she’d left.

Opening the tin, the fragrance that escaped immediately told him what the gift was--black tea, but a variety of different blends.  And it was good tea, too, if the scent was anything to go by.  Groups of the tea bags were sectioned off, labeled by the variant they were, such as the one blend that included lemon, or the one that seemed to have blackberries in it.  The tea bags were definitely homemade, telling him the blends were specially made by her and Petra, thought going into the ingredients.  There was a white powder dusted over all the tea bags that turned out to be white sage upon closer inspection.

An odd choice...especially since it was on every tea bag and not certain blends.

The wild thought crossed his mind that they might be poisoned, and he scowled, attempting to brush aside the paranoia with the thought that it would be far too bold and obvious of a move, especially with Petra helping put it together.  He doubted she would have been able to get such a thing past Petra, too, considering the woman’s experience making Levi’s tea.

I’m going fucking crazy, he thought to himself as, despite his rationalization, he pulled out one of the tea bags and started methodically pulling it apart piece by piece to make sure there wasn’t anything fatal slipped into the homemade blend.  He made sure to avoid touching it as little as possible so it was still usable when he was done, shifting through the ingredients in the blend and making sure he recognized every one.

Nothing suspicious about it.  Aside from the odd choice of white sage.

If it really was meant to be a bribe, though, did he want to take it?  He didn’t want to waste the tea, so he wasn’t going to just throw it out.  He could re-gift it to Hange or Erwin, but he knew that would be a slight, and L/N hadn’t been the only one to make it--Petra had helped.

Dammit…

He’d just have to let it sit there until he could figure out what he was going to do with it.  He could speculate on conspiracy theories about what it was meant to be, if it really was anything more than a gift, until he figured out how he was going to handle it.

It really could be what she said, though--a gift for the holidays and a thank you, maybe even a peace offering in the hopes things wouldn’t continue to be so tense between them.  The contention would continue, though, until he found out what she was hiding.

Levi settled back into what he’d been doing before she came to his office, looking over the details Erwin had provided him, a small frown on his face as he looked over official documents and police reports that were roughly forty years old about a double homicide in the town that had spawned local legends and horror stories to frighten children.  Why was this included in the report Erwin gave him?  One of the two victims was the girl that L/N shared a first name with, the only thing resembling a tangible connection to the town she claimed as her hometown that Erwin could find.

He was going to have to talk to Erwin and try to get a day or two off so he could go investigate in person.  He needed more information than what was in these reports, and he would only find what he wanted by going there in person.

Once more, there was a knock on the door, this time followed immediately by a familiar voice calling, “Captain?”

Ah, this was a meeting he’d been waiting for.

“You can come in, Petra,” he called, finally putting away Erwin’s reports in a safe place as Petra entered the room and headed for Levi’s desk.  She didn’t bother asking why he asked her to meet him, simply took a seat and waited for him to speak.

“What do you think about our new member?” Levi asked after he got settled in his seat.  Petra’s surprised eyes wandered to the gift still sitting on the desk, a questioning look in her eyes even though she complied to answering his question.

“Do you mean in skills or compatibility?” Petra asked for clarification after a moment’s hesitation.

“Compatibility.”

He was already well aware of her skills--she wouldn’t have even been placed as an aid in the squad if she didn’t have skills to become one of the elite.  Skill was one of the first things he looked at when choosing squad members.

Petra seemed even more confused that he was asking after her personality more than anything, but again, she didn’t question him.

“She’s quiet and reserved, for the most part, but after spending a couple weeks with her, once you manage to get her to open up she has a warm and caring personality.  She’s a little socially timid, though, I’m sure you’ve noticed; like she’s thinking of how she should act before she does or says something.  At least at first, before she gets more comfortable and gets into the flow of conversation.”

Petra paused to consider, a small frown on her face.  “She’s a creature of habit, that’s for sure--she’s always wearing the same necklace, all the time--I’ve never seen her without it, and there’s certain places she’s always at during certain times of the day.  I’m a little worried about her health, though.  I didn’t notice it at first, but she hardly seems to eat.  She doesn’t get much on her plate, and she’s always smuggling things that are safe for horses to eat to the stables to bribe the horses instead of eating it herself.  She doesn’t seem affected, not yet anyway, but I’m still worried about it.”

Taking the mental notes for later in case that information proved important, Levi pressed a little further.  “What about the others?  It seems like she’s fitting in well.”

Petra nodded.  “She’s getting lessons of some kind from almost everyone, and she’s been a lot better about being social.  She’s making a genuine effort to be a part of the squad, and to be perfectly honest, I like having her around.”

“Anything else?”

Petra’s gaze flickered over to the box sitting on the desk again.  “If it’s not too presumptuous, Captain--I don’t know what impression she made when you two first met.  She mentioned it may not have been the best first impression, but...she really is trying to be worth the chance she’s been given to be a part of this squad, and her attempts appear genuine to me.  Perhaps give her another chance to make a better impression.”

Levi didn’t answer her, and he kept his expression unreadable so she wouldn’t see his reaction to her words.  It was more incentive for him to close this messy chapter, and it helped clear up his thoughts on how to act going forward if this secret didn’t turn out to be something crazy like treason or murder.

“Thank you, Petra.  You can go, now,” Levi finally answered in an indifferent voice.  Petra got up and gave a quick salute, then quietly left the room without any further comment.  Once she was gone, Levi got to his feet with a slight sigh.

He needed to see Erwin.

Next Chapter---->

Levi Tags:  @clary-quinn @humanitys-hottestsoldier@whalerus @sunny-flo @thirstyforsometea​

Wings in the Dark Tags:  @regalillegal @animeluver23 @theshylittleelfgirl @queenthorin1 @dilucs-thighs @sociallyanxiousmouse

[angelfishofthelord]

sufficient for thee

(a re-imagining of how Cas' grace works and how he heals people and the scars it leaves)

~ thanks to @fromcenotaphy for their hbo cas post that helped inspire some of this ~

+

"My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness." --2 Corinthians 12:9

+

The first time Castiel’s grace performs the act of healing is when he has to repair Jimmy’s vessel after re-entering it. His own wounded form resembles a shredded rainbow; colors slipping off each other and flashes blind his one thousand eyes. It settles in sluggishly, sprawling out flat on the staircase of the spine. Prism streams of grace bleed out into the open cracks. One by one the physical lesions seal off, leaving him in the assurance of quiet darkness.

That’s one of the enduring traits of being on earth: darkness. It prevails even when light attempts to dominate. It is an inextricable part of mortal existence, perhaps starting from the first moments in the dark chamber of the womb.

Then he feels himself being pulled back to his feet and his eyelids snap open to be ambushed by the questioning looks of the Winchesters. To the side, the fearful yet confused gaze of the Novaks. 

He cannot address either. He needs to be somewhere else, alone, to knit back the parts of his grace that Zachariah had torn asunder.

“I don’t serve you,” he tells Dean. At this moment he wishes he wasn’t serving anyone at all. Servitude is supposed to be as natural as light for a being like him; it is not supposed to sting or bruise, or send him fleeing for the comfort of mother night.

+

The metal rod slices through his vesel’s spine like butter. He glances over his shoulder to see if his grace is healing the damage before his nerves lose feeling. It’s a fraction of a second of distraction that allows Alastair to slam his hand around his throat.

Castiel flails his arms like curtains against the might of a storm. His grace is bottled up around his spine to seal the split there and there’s nothing left to fight off the tightening squeeze around his larynx.

“Omnipotentis Dei potestatem invoco,” Alastair sneers, reciting a spell that begins with “I invoke the almighty power of God.” A demon is abusing the sanctity power of Castiel’s Father to cleave his form from this earthbound vessel.

Blasphemy , Castiel wants to say, but then his grace erupts like a detonator has gone off inside his chest. Every soft strand of grace becomes a spear, stabbing into his nerves and puncturing his eyelids and ripping through his gums. The agony consumes him. He can’t even lift a finger to defend himself.

Sam’s raised palm comes into view in his peripherals.

His grace retracts, back into the recesses of his vessel, and he drops down from the rod he was rammed against. The younger Winchester towers over him, reeking of demon blood and shimmering with intensity. Castiel watches as Sam tortures and then kills Alastair and wonders if this is his Father’s will, to let that which is vile be glorified for the sake of salvation.

When Sam demands that he heal the broken body of his brother Castiel can only offer an “I can’t.” Those were not his orders. He cannot give what he has not been chosen to bestow.

+

Raphael is ghastly and glorious. He admires the extremity of his brother in the seconds before he is granulated into flecks of red, falling like rain around the flabbergasted gaze of the prophet.

+

Castiel does not remember the process of his resurrection. He recalls Raphael in thunderous thrill; then he is simply whole again and standing outside a ripe sunflower field in Cumberland, Maine.

The hem of his coat brushes against the crisp stalks. A shower of black sunflower seeds tumble out as he moves through the field, swirling like a cloud behind him

His grace stirs sleepily inside. It doesn’t feel the same way it used to; it feels diminished, like someone has scraped out half of it and left the rest for dead. He cups his hands around it, trying to rouse it from fatigue. Instead it rolls over and ignores him.

+

Bobby tells him to start healing and Castiel hesitates because he doesn’t know how.

He doesn’t need permission from his superiors anymore to perform the act. But he’s never healed anyone outside of his own vessel. Reluctant to admit his ignorance he verbalizes a refusal while thinking about how he might go about healing another. If grace is the power of his being, then perhaps anointing the grace on the injury might bring the body back to wellness.

That night he returns to the hospital room. Bobby looks frightened, surprised, and relieved to see him, in that order. The first two expressions Castiel is familiar with receiving. The third is relatively new. He’s never been around humans long enough for them to find something agreeable with his presence.

“Did ya forget your halo or somethin’?” Bobby asks, putting down the paperback novel he’s reading.

Castiel pauses to check. “No.” He lets the blade drop from his sleeve and holds it up. “I am here to heal you.”

“Wouldn’t have guessed that,” Bobby grunts, eyeing the blade like it’s a weapon intended for him.

Castiel points the tip at his own hand and draws it down, opening the flesh at the top of his index finger to the crown of the ulna bone on his wrist. Three thin tendrils of grace emerge, resplendent in milky white. The solid color surprises him. He focuses on them and recognizes the other colors blended in there, stygian blue and luminous red. His grace harbors so many unearthly hues it must simply appear as white because of the limitations of this realm.  

When he approaches Bobby the older man leans away. “What,” he looks at Castiel from under bushy eyebrows. “You’re gonna anoint me with your blood?”

“It is not my blood. It is much more than that. It is the essence of my being.” 

“Ain’t making me feel any better.” Bobby sighs and then closes his eyes. “Do what you gotta do then. Do I need to cross myself or somethin’?”

“Cross yourself where?” Castiel moves forward and places the open wound on one of Bobby’s legs. The grace soaks into the corduroy pant leg, leaving the fabric a shade darker than before.  

He holds his hand there as the minutes tick by.

More dollops of grace fall out of the wound and still nothing happens. 

A wet spot starts to form on the bed sheet below.

Castiel closes his eyes to reach for his grace and is shocked to find it skittering away, almost fearfully. He wants to pull more of it towards the opening in his hand but he can’t grab hold of it. It plasters itself to the walls of his vessel, cowardly refusing to budge forward.

“Not feelin’ any different,” comes Bobby’s commentary.

Keep reading

[slowly-writing]

Alone

Natasha Romanoff x Daughter!Reader

Requested by anon: hey, could you write a natasha x daughter!reader where the daughter is really depressed and maybe she ods on pills or something and after the daughter ends up telling nat about her feelings (if that doesn’t make you feel uncomfy) thanks! i love your writing btw😁

Word count: 3.1k (longest one yet)

Trigger Warning: mentions of depression and suicide attempts. Please do not read this if it will trigger you

You trudge through the school hallway before first period, rubbing your eyes and trying your best to shut out the world. All you can see are the smiling faces of your classmates and it makes your heart sink even further down in your chest. All you want is to be happy like them, but all you have is forced laughs and fake smiles. You’re tired. Tired of pretending to be okay. Tired of feeling the way you do. Tired of being here. Nobody notices that though, you know how to hide your emotions well, maybe too well. You learned from the best, you don’t think you’ve ever seen your mom cry, so you won’t let anyone see you cry either.

You tug on the sleeves of your hoodie for what has to be the tenth time in as many minutes, pulling them down over your hands and not daring to let your wrists be seen. You let yourself be absorbed in the music blasting through your headphones as you get your books from your locker. A tapping on your shoulder pulls you back into reality. When you turn around Peter is standing behind you smiling, and you feel a small bit of joy and the sight of the sweet boy.

“Hey, y/n! What’s up? Are you doing okay?” Peter asks in that happy tone he always seems to have.

“Nothing much, and yeah. I’m good,” you say with a shrug, shoving the last of your books in your bag as the two of you head off towards class.

“Are you sure? You seem sad,” Peter says, softer this time. His smile is still there and you think maybe you could talk to him, but decide against it as you meet his eyes. His eyes, while full of joy, also show how tired he is. He’s living with his own secrets, and you won’t burden him with yours as well.

“Yeah Pete, I’m good. I just stayed up late studying,” you brush off his concern with a lie, not thinking much of it, it seems lying is all you do these days.

xxxxx

“Hey kid, how was school?” Tony’s voice startles you as you walk into the kitchen. You expected everyone to be off training but when you glance to your right you see half the team sitting at the table.

“Uh, it was fine,” you mumble, forcing a smile onto your face and walking to the fridge to avoid eye contact. The conversation behind you picks up again and you let out a sigh of relief, exhausted at the mere thought of putting on an act.

“Do you want to do something? We were saying it’s been a while since we’ve had a family day,” Steve says and you can tell he’s smiling before you even turn around.

“We were thinking about having a movie night,” your mom suggests and you take a breath, knowing she’ll see even the tiniest hint of a lie if you’re not careful.

“I can’t. I have a big test Monday, I’m going to be studying most of the weekend,” you tell them and you see the wheels turning in your mom’s head.

“I thought you had a big test this week?” Clint questions and you momentarily panic, you’ll need a new excuse soon.

“It’s Junior year, I guess they’re all big tests,” you shrug, seeing your escape and making your way towards the door, “have fun with your movie night.”

xxxxx

You’re sitting in your room a while later staring at nothing in particular when there’s a knock on your door. You snap out of your daze, calling for the person to come in.

“Hey, I didn’t see you in class today. I just wanted to check in,” Wanda says as she sits on your bed next to you, but leaving enough space to make sure you don’t feel cornered, she knows how nervous it makes you.

“Oh yeah, I wasn’t feeling chemistry today. I hid out in the library,” you say and she nods. You think the conversation is over but when you look over at her she has her brows furrowed.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you go to brush her off again but she stops you, “don’t lie and say you’re fine, I know you’re not. These last few days, few months really, you’ve got this cloud around you. I can tell you’re sad, and so little of the old y/n shines through. Your emotions, the things you’re feeling, I feel it all and it’s like you’re screaming at me to help you. It’s like you’re disappearing right before my eyes, and I’m the only one who can see it. I just don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to help.”

You stop for a moment. You’ve stumbled into another perfect opportunity. Wanda is sitting next to you, practically begging you to open up to her, and you almost do. Then you remember everything she’s been through. You remember the way she acted when she first moved in. She was barely a shell of a girl, her eyes held a sadness nobody should have to endure and she was so scared. She’s finally begun to be happy here, and you won’t be the one to drag her down again.

“It’s just school. I’ve got college applications coming up, I guess it’s stressing me out. You don’t have to worry about it, I’ll be okay,” you plaster a smile across your face and she sighs. She glances around your room, looking for an excuse to stay when she spots your guitar.

“You know I’ve always wanted to learn to play. Maybe you can teach me sometime?” you follow her gaze and pick up the instrument, brushing off the dust it’s collected from sitting untouched for months.

“Take it,” you hold it out towards her and she shakes her head.

“Y/n, I couldn’t-”

“Just take it. Someone should play it,” she stares at you and you nod. She gently takes it from your hand and you smile at her.

“You’ll talk to me, if you need me. Right?” Wanda pauses at your door.

“I’ll be okay,” you say, not quite lying but it seems to satisfy her and she gently closes the door behind her.

xxxxx

You look at the stack of papers on your desk, a list of everyone you’d want to say goodbye to. There’s almost a dozen notes all addressed to different members of your family, apologizing to them and explaining why you’re doing what you’re doing. You started out looking for a reason to stay but the more you stare at the notes the more you see how everyone has someone. Everyone except you.  

Steve finally got Bucky back, and they understand each other in ways you could never dream of. All you could ever be to them was an annoyance. Some kid from a time they didn’t understand.

Bruce and Tony, the science bros as you’ve been calling them since you were little, will keep on experimenting and inventing. They don’t need you wandering in and screwing up their lab equipment.

Thor has Valkyrie, and they’ve both been off-world for months anyway. They have their own people to watch over. They don’t need to worry about you too.

Wanda and Peter will take care of each other. Neither of them are strangers to loss, and they’ll pull each other through. All the great friendships come in pairs anyway, you’d just be a glorified third wheel.

Clint has a whole family to watch out for, and you’re nothing but a bad influence for his kids. A cautionary tale about paths not to go down. You know he’ll take care of your mom, they were family long before you came along. She’ll be better off without you to look out for. She’s the world’s greatest spy, she doesn’t need to be distracted trying to make sure you don’t screw up.

Everyone here will be fine without you, you can hear them all laughing in the common room right now, and you nod to yourself. It’s time.

You leave the light in your bedroom on as you step into the hallway. You close the door silently and glance to your right. The couches are crammed with everyone laughing and smiling in the dimly lit room. They fit perfectly, they don’t have room for one more. So you turn to your left, you can’t sneak into the elevator without one of them noticing you, so you take the stairs up one floor to the med wing.

You enter the room that held all the medicines, they never locked anything up here. You wonder if they’ll regret that as you look through the bottles of pills. You grab a bottle that’s labeled Benzo-something and decide it will work. You grab a bottle of water from the fridge, and make your way to the elevators. You tell Jarvis to take you to the roof and step out into the cool evening air a few moments later.

You take one last look at the New York skyline. You’ve always loved this view. You take off your jacket, and for the first time in months feel the cool breeze on your scarred arms. After a few moments you step back, sitting criss cross on the floor and opening the pill bottle. You pour a few tablets into your hand, silently wondering how many it will take to do the job. You tip the bottle again, pouring until your hand is nearly full, and decide that’ll be enough.

You’re calmer than you thought you’d be as you bring your hand to your mouth. You expected to cry, to feel scared, but you don’t. All you feel is the slight discomfort as you force the pills down your throat, then you just feel numb.

xxxxx

“Do you think we could convince y/n to join us?” Bucky wonders aloud as Steve pauses the movie.

“She’s been really down lately, it’s starting to worry me,” Tony says softly, that tone of voice is rare for him, and everyone agrees.

“She always wears these giant hoodies at school, even though it’s almost summer, like she’s trying to hide. She flinches away if you try to touch her arms. Whenever I ask if she’s okay she just makes up some lame excuse, I never want to push but I think maybe I should,” Peter joins in and a heavy silence falls over the room.

“I’m gonna go try and talk to her,” Nat says softly as she walks the few yards to your room. They all watch as she knocks a few times, entering when she hears no reply. There’s a few beats of silence before anything happens. “No no no.”

Your mom’s voice is barely above a whisper but they all know it’s bad. When she steps back out she’s holding a stack of papers. The look on her face is one that none of them have seen before, pure terror.

“What is that?” Steve asks as everyone jumps into action rushing to her side, but she can’t even form the words to tell them. Clint gently pulls the papers from her hands and skims through them. He swallows hard, trying to choke down the bile rising in his throat as everyone stares at him, waiting for an answer as to what could be found in a 16 year old’s room that scared the Black Widow.

“They’re suicide notes. There’s one addressed to each of us,” Clint says softly as Natasha grabs them back, rereading the words she knows will haunt her for the rest of her life. There’s a moment of silence before everyone starts talking at once.

“Where did she even go?” Wanda is the first to speak up, tears already streaming down her face.

“It’s a secure facility, she didn’t just disappear!” Tony says quickly, staring off into the distance as he runs through the short list of places you could be hiding.

“Everyone spread out and start looking!” Steve snaps everyone into action and they all scatter.

Nat is left alone, still frozen in front of your bedroom door as everyone fans out. She stares at the papers in her hands before she realizes where you are. She drops the papers, letting them flutter to the floor as she takes off towards the staircase. She takes the steps two at a time, making it to the roof in record time. You flinch as the door slams open and lazily roll over from where you’ve laid on the floor to look towards the sound.

“Oh, hi mom,” you flail your arm towards her in an attempted wave and she gasps at the state you’re in. Both the angry red marks covering your arms and the fact that you’re barely conscious scare her more than she thought possible. She can hear your breathing, ragged and slow and she feels more tears fall from her eyes.

“Y/n what did you do?” she yells, running towards you and picking up the mostly empty bottle of medicine.

“I want to go away,” you mumble, eyes drooping closed.

“No no no, you’re not going anywhere. Stay with me, love. I’ve got you, mommy’s here,” Natasha says as she lifts you into her arms. You groan as she jostles you, but you don’t protest anymore as you slowly drift off.

xxxxx

You hear a steady beeping and whispers as you wake up. You blink your eyes open and see a room packed full of people, all in various states of distress.

“Why would she do that? Why would…” Peter trails off. He has tear tracks down his face and his eyes are red. Tony’s sitting on his left with his arm around Peter.

“I don’t know kid,” he says softly, sniffling a bit.

“I knew she wasn’t okay. I should’ve done more,” Wanda’s eyes are trained on the floor and her face is emotionless as she sits on Peter’s right, gripping his hand tightly.

“You couldn’t have known-” Steve tries to reassure her but she cuts him off, standing up quickly and drawing all attention to her.

“I did know! I could feel how sad she was! What good are these stupid powers if I can’t do a fucking thing to help my best friend? I failed her,” Wanda now has tears streaming down her face and you can feel yourself tearing up.

“I didn’t want your help,” your voice is soft and scratchy, but everyone hears you and all eyes in the room quickly turn to you. “I didn’t want you to know that I was struggling. I didn’t want anyone to know. It’s not your job to take care of me.”

“Yes it is,” your mom says quickly. You try to argue but she raises a hand, causing you to stop. “I know you want to be independent but we’re your family. Of course it’s our job to take care of you. Everyone needs some help sometimes and you have every right to ask for it.”

“I’m not worth it. You don’t need me here,” you say with a shrug, wiping the tears of frustration from your eyes. You ball your hands into fists and stare down at them, refusing to look at your family.

“Yes we do. We all need you here and don’t think for a single fucking second that we don’t,” your moms voice cracks and you finally look up at her, seeing the tears streaming down her face.

“We all need you. Who else is gonna come remind me that sleep is a thing when I’ve been down in the lab for 28 hours straight?” Tony asks with a small smile.

“Yeah! And without you I would’ve flunked Calculus last semester, May would’ve killed me,” Peter says and immediately winces at his choice of words.

“She really would have,” you say, smiling a bit at his attempt to cheer you up.

“We all need you, y/n. You’re my best friend, the person I love most in this world. You’re all I have left, I don't know what I would do without you. You’re the only reason I made it through Pietro’s death. I never thought I’d be okay but you made sure I was. I’m sorry I couldn’t do the same for you,” Wanda sits on your left side, gently taking your hand.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper as the tears start rolling down your face. You look towards your mom again, hoping if she understands why you did it, she’ll forgive you. “I thought it’d be better for you all if I was gone. I’m just so sad all the time. Nothing I used to like is fun anymore and I just want everything to stop. It’s too much. I kept pushing through, but every reason to keep living just kept going away. You all have someone more important to you than me, so why should I stay? You’d all be okay.”

Your mom lets out a shaky breath as she brushes the hair out of your eyes, resting her hand against your cheek, “love, I would never be okay without you. When I brought you home all those years ago, you changed my life. I have never loved anyone as much as I love you, and I’m so sorry I didn’t show you that. I will always be here for you, everyone in this room is always here for you. Please, please tell us next time you need help.”

You’re both sobbing at this point and you throw yourself into her arms, apologizing over and over and begging her to forgive you.

“I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t think anyone would care. I’m sorry,” your words draw tears from everyone in the room.

“I know you didn’t want to hurt us, love. It’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna get you some help, okay?” your mom reassures you and you nod, burrowing deeper into her arms. Your whole family watches the interaction silently, wiping tears from their eyes and vowing to never let you feel this alone again.

tag list: @rvgrsbrns @rororo06 @prizmix-and-friends @m19friend @worlds-in-words @5aftermidnight @riotmaximoff

[razorblade180]

Twin Snowflakes 18: A better day

“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU!” Yang shouted, her voice echoing through the summer Menagerie air at her young, ten year old daughter. “What did I say about fighting!?” Veronica wiped her soiled face and snarled. Her eyes were completely feral and nails extended.

“STOP YELLING AT ME! YOU’RE HURTING MY EARS!” Veronica tried running past Yang but her arm was grabbed and pulled back. She kept pulling and struggling but couldn’t break free from the grip. “Let me go!”

“We aren’t done talking!” Yang said firmly, try to keep her voice lower than before. “You have to learn to control your temper!”

“I can’t!”

“Can’t, or won’t?” Yang watched her daughter’s eyes start to water.

“What does it matter!? They’d hate me anyways and it’s you and mom’s fault! I HATE YOU!!” Her words stunned Yang. Veronica took the opportunity to bite her hand, making Yang wince and let go. Veronica sprinted off on all fours into the jungle, crying. Leaving Yang feeling more concerned than hurt.

xxxx

That same concern would continue on multiple occasions. Sometimes more frequently or intense than others. Now it reared its ugly head again as she sat at the bottom of the Schnee manor stairs waiting for her kid to walk through the front door with Nick. Jaune and Weiss were also waiting after Penny had given them the call about what apparently happened at school. They definitely weren’t happy, but they too were more concerned, considering the report on Nick’s health. It was common for the boy to get under the weather. Constant working does that to the body.

“Any minute now.” Jaune said, the calmest of them all. “Remember, let’s not bombard them right out of the g-” the front door opened before he could finish. Both mothers all but ran to it. “Gate…”

“Veronica Nala Belladonna.” Was all the girl heard as she entered the room. Middle names were never a good sign. She winced as if she had gotten a cut at the words and looked at her mother stare at her. Veronica’s ears folded as she let out a sigh. “I know, I messed up. Thought I had it under control but I couldn’t be further from the truth.”

“Ya think?” Yang huffed. “Why do you think I tell you all the time to let me make you a breakfast that’ll help. What if you had gotten hurt? Or seriously injured another kid!? We’re lucky the media doesn’t know you’re here yet either or they’d-” The carefully controlled lecture tone was brought to a halt when Veronica walked forward and put her face down in Yang’s chest like a pillow. A muffled “I’m sorry” was heard surprisingly. Veronica looked up into Yang’s matching lilac eyes while she still rested her tired head. “Veronica?”

“I’m still fatigued. It was bad, not the worse,but it was pretty bad.” She pointed at Nick to draw attention to the bruise he still had. Veronica stood up straight in front of his parents and bowed at the best. “Your son was hurt because of me. I apologize…” Nick walked you to her, sheepishly rubbing his head. “It was my bad actually. You know me, charging in without a plan.” He tried laughing but the pain in his nose made it difficult.

Weiss shook her head. “That I understand just fine, but running out of school?”

“I panicked.” He admitted, “also I caught a slight fever so grounding me then sending me to my room is a little mute.” Nick joked. He wanted to break the tension. All the parents looked at each other before turning back. “We aren’t grounding you.” Jaune spoke, “Flynt called and the two boys involved already gave their side of the story and at minimum, Veronica and a student body member will visit his office tomorrow to get the other side of the story.”

“That’s fair.” Veronica stretched. Her body was still trying to settle down a bit. “Is it alright if I go lay down for a bit? Please?” Yang gave her an observing look. Veronica could tell she was looking at her features to make sure she was okay. “Ma I’m fine, also full. Penny’s lab turned into a glorified pizza place.” Yang motioned to the stairs and Veronica went on her way.

“Take a shower first!” Yang chimed.

“Will do.” Nick watched the girl disappear before looking back at the grown ups who were still beaming at him. “Uhhh yes?” Yang walked over and patted his head.

“Thanks for looking after her. I owe ya.”Nick smiled, giving a thumbs up. “Seeing what you said happen in action was an experience. I’ll be sure to watch out for friendly fire next time.”

“Your nose should be broken. Veronica hits hard.” Jaune chimed. He activated his semblance and quickly healed his son’s face. “All better.”

“Thaaaank you!” He sniffled. It was hard not to wish the Arc semblance was the hereditary one sometimes. “I’m going to head off to my room too. I hope Summer remembers all of our stuff. Running out of school isn’t a really good excuse for missing assignments I assume.” Nick took his leave, going to his room as well. Step by step through the halls brought a rhythmic pounding to his head. Sluggish didn’t begin to describe how he felt. Reaching his room felt like a dream come true, or a fever dream anyways. The boy basically stumbled in. Minutes later, Weiss knocked on his door before entering without permission. Her arms crossed and the corner of her lips turned down as she looked at her son that sat on the edge of his bed. His face was redder than down stairs and all of his enthusiasm had vanished; not like it was actually there to begin with. Weiss knew a brave face when she saw one. She knelt down and pressed her hand against Nick’s forehead. Weiss might as well have been touching a heater.

“I look worse than it actually is.” Nick weakly smiled. His mother was having none of it and frankly, he was fortunate for that. Gods know he wouldn’t slow down on his own.

“No school tomorrow for you.” Weiss ordered. “Go run a cold shower for your fever. I’ll make you some stew and bring medicine. This bed is going to be your best friend for at least the rest of the day, no debate.” Weiss waited for protest but it never came. First Veronica and now him, they really were at their limit. Weiss helped Nick up and walked him to one of their many bathrooms. “You know, it’s been awhile since you threw a party or anything. Not even an ‘outing’ of some sort.” Weiss put emphasis on outing. Both of her kids would occasionally want to go around town at night to relax when in reality, both of them would sneak down to Mantle’s harbor. There were plenty of empty warehouses to have underground concerts and raves. Both Jaune and Weiss knew about it but Weiss can’t really blame them. She used to do similar and worse things when she snuck out. Rich kids can’t escape rich problems. The only thing she’s actually said about their late night adventures was an off hand comment about how they better be as clean as they were coming home, as they were leaving the house; the twins immediately knew she wasn’t referring to surface level dirt. As long as that order was followed and nothing extreme happened then she’d let them have freedom.

“I thought about it but too much is going on. Maybe after the tournament. It would be terrible to have some kind of incident before it.”

That was fair. The twins would be crushed otherwise. “Good idea. After the both of you compete, you should do some kind of fun after party. I’ll let you use the yacht.” Weiss saw Nick’s eyes light up a bit. She’d never understand why he loved that boat so much. “Sounds good?”

Nick chuckled, “Sounds great, and it’ll sound perfect once I win gold.”

xxxx

Karma is a dangerous being and Summer was finding that out the hard way. Not only did she have to carry Veronica and Nick’s belongings, but was alone! Valerie was busy with after school activities so Summer never got the chance to ask for help, which might’ve been for the best. If Valerie wanted space from Nick then there was no reason to complain when she realizes that he got into a fight. Though it might’ve been that kind of thinking that put Summer in this situation. Two bags and a backpack was heavier than she’d imagined. Thank goodness it wasn’t a textbook day. Still, all of Vee’s belongings took time to put up. At least she was getting work done before shit hit the fan, especially her designs. Summer tried to pick up the pace. Following the order to get some calcium in her was already paying off. It’s only been a day and yet Summer felt good, more alert even. A good and a bad thing unfortunately; Shiva is no doubt jumping for joy as well. The annoyance was getting one of few things that she wanted. Conversely, Summer was starting to think that maybe this change in her diet could potentially mean resisting Shiva might be easier. Anything would help at this point. It was a day in and day out battle that Summer hated. Her body, her mind, even her very soul, bit by bit she could that she was breaking in the worst way possible. Like glass on the verge of cracking by a high not. If she wasn’t careful of Shiva’s antics then all hell would freeze over.

Summer made it a few more blocks before feeling a little tired. If only she made it to bus in time. She wanted to take a break but the winter season brought the dark early. Darkness meant it got colder and that was a major no no. “What I wouldn’t give for a speed semblance right now, or a functioning summon to carry all this crap.” She thought, a little irritated by the fact her brother actually made an Arma Gigas. “Can’t let him get too far ahead of me. I’ll never pull my weight then.” Summer let her thoughts drift off a little too much. The girl didn’t pay attention to a truck clearing snow off the road and onto the sidewalks. By the time she did, a wave was headed right for her. The girl gasped, quickly activating her thermals. The weight of everything made it impossible to dodge so she just had to endure, until a warm blast of air that felt like it belonged to the tropics, brushed by her and melted the snow. Summer was confused by what just happened.

“Across the street.” A voice called out. Summer looked behind her to see Eliza standing on the opposite side sipping a coffee. “You have a real problem with spacing out, you know that right?” Eliza wasn’t planning on going in the same direction as Summer but decided to cross the street to her since they were clearly going to end up talking. “Can’t you, like blow gusts of wind if you try hard enough?” Eliza didn’t know the specifics of Summer’s condition, but the sensitive Schnee had told her a little of it in an attempt to explain many different absences to both school and meetings.

Summer clicked her tongue, “I could’ve tried, but then the road would probably get ice on it. What brings you this way?” Summer made a mischievous smirk. “Ooo were you going to check in my brother? How sweet.” She playfully laughed until Eliza scared her with a stern look. “It was a joke…”

“Yeah a terrible one.” Eliza deadpanned. She freed Summer of the backpack, choosing to carry it herself. “But I did hear a little of what happened in excruciating detail.”

Summer was perplexed.“Th...that sentence doesn’t make-”

“I will help you all the way to your front gate and then I’ll be on my way.”

“Don’t you have somewhere you had to be? You don’t have to go out of your way for me.”

Eliza pulled out a gold pocket watch. “I got time, they’ll still be open for a while.” She could tell Summer was interested in what she was talking about. “I’m telling you…”

“Awww, well thanks anyway.” She smiled. Eliza started walking, ignoring the happy gesture. “You can thank me by keeping your brother out of trouble. I need him focused on our rematch.” Summer could only feel sorry for her brother now. His luck with girls was atrocious. All of them want to take him down a peg in one way or another! Even she wanted to outdo him! Summer made a mental reminder to ease up on him in the upcoming days, except for singing. Family or not, he was going to sing every note well with passion or she would personally throw him off her stage. Mediocrity had no place next her. Then again, sharing the stage was always a big problem.

“You’re spacing out again!” Eliza shouted, already several feet away. Summer yelped and began to jog. “Sorry!”

xxxx

The extra company definitely made the walk feel shorter, even if they barely talked. Summer did notice that Eliza’s coffee was perpetually hot despite the weather. It made her wonder just how much control Eliza had over her magic. It had been some time since she saw her actually practiced it. “Maybe she found a good training spot and that’s where she’s headed?” Summer thought as she climbed the steps to her front door. Surprisingly, Ruby stood at the top of them. “Auntie?”

“Hmm? Oh hey!” The huntress said when she noticed Summer. “I’d say fancy meeting you here, but this is your house.” Ruby laughed at her own lame remark. Summer walked to the door and unlocked it for her.“Thank you!”

“Auntie it’s my house. I had to walk in too.”

“I can still say thank you. Now I can surprise Yang even further. Watch this.” Ruby closed the door behind them and ran to the middle of the room, cuffing her hands around her mouth to amplify her voice. “I wanna see my sister!” She sang.

The sound of quick footsteps traveled around another room until Yang slid into view in front of the kitchen doorway. The blonde sang back. “You can see your sister!” Ruby smiled and sang a little louder. “I wanna see my niece!!!!” Ruby held her arms straight up.

Veronica came through the second floor right on que. “You can see your niece!” She sang, falling right into Ruby’s arms. Followed by Yang hugging both of them. Summer always wondered where they got all that energy from. It could only be from their dad. Apparently it was genetic.

Summer waved Veronica’s bag. “Veronica come get your crap. It’s heavy.” The strap left her hand in the blink of an eye. Someone was clearly upset that I touched her stuff. “You could say thank you.”

“Yeah I could do that.” Was all Veronica said. Summer thought about starting an argument right then and there, but a bath was calling her name. “I’m going to warm up. Tell mom and dad I’m home.” On that note, up to her private bathroom she went.

Yang flicked Veronica’s forehead. “It’s not hard to be a little nice.”

“I will do that later. I still feel like a off.” The young faunus took a deep breath and covered her face with her bag. “Can you please...make some dinner, a dinner with actual meat?” She didn’t have to see Yang to know she was practically bouncing up and down.

“Let’s put some meat on those bones!” Yang cheered, running off. Not only was she happy for Veronica, but any day was a good day she could cook without following some rules a diet set up. Cooking should be fun and flavorful. Not filled with kale. “Ruby we can cook and chat like the old days. Get your but in here!”

Ruby looked at Vee. “Your mother is very excitable. That’s where you get that from.” Ruby rubbed her head then took off. Veronica could hear Weiss panic before the shouts started to sound happy. It was either because three fourths of the team was in the same spot, or she was secretly looking for help in the kitchen. Probably both if Veronica had to guess. She might’ve joined them but there was no way she could possibly deal with all of them at once at the moment. Instead she decided to see if Summer was competent enough to retrieve everything. It was certainly looking that way.

“Notes, lists, pens, journa- hold on…” Veronica reached for the journal and took a whiff. Odd, it smelled like Summer. That was a given, she had to put in the bag. What wasn’t right was each page. They all had her scent. Veronica could feel her stomach start to sink and her body shook a little. “That nosy...ugh!” Veronica didn’t waste time with the stairs and jumped right up to the second floor into her room, then crossed the hall. Both of her parents had taught her how important it was to respect boundaries ever since her semblance awakened but Veronica was having a hard time caring. Instead of knocking, she went through Summer’s door in a fit of anger. “HEY! Did y-”

“Gah!” Summer screamed, startled by the sudden entrance. So much in fact that the ground she sat on iced over faintly. The girl looked up at Veronica with tears that quickly tried to wipe away. “What...what do you want!?” She sniffled and groaned, equally annoyed as Veronica. But now Vee’s face looked less angry and more caught off guard. Something that pissed Summer off more. “What!? Can’t a girl cry in the comfort of her own room!?” She stood up and huffed. “It’s therapeutic! Oscar says sometimes you just need to take a minute and let all of your pent up feelings out so they don’t overwhelm you!” Summer couldn’t explain why she felt the need to defend her tears but she did.

Veronica simply looked at the girl. It would look pretty bad to chew her out while she’s crying, especially if she gets back on the floor. Though it was hard, Veronica took a breath and chose a slightly less aggressive approach, raising her journal. “Did you look through this?” She grumbled. Summer nodded slowly. Vee clenched her fist before continuing. “Why are you looking through my stuff?”

Summer could tell this wasn’t Veronica’s usual anger. No, this time she looked like she actually wanted to fight her. “I...I was curious my new outfit was in there. Then I kept flipping because your designs are actually pretty nice….” her voice trailed off. It had been awhile since she actually felt intimidated by the girl.

“Do not, and I repeat, do not go through my sketches unless I tell you to. Something that I probably will never do, got it?”

“Crystal.” Summer replied without delay.

“Good…” Veronica slowly stepped back until she reached the door. “I apologize… for not knocking.” She phased through the door, leaving Summer to continue whatever she wanted to do. Overreacting was a definite problem from Veronica. It was hard not to when she knew Summer saw the back of her book. Nothing but scratched out ideas and claws marks. If she was lucky, Veronica would know better than to ask.

“Great…” Veronica hissed. “Now two people feel like crying.” She tossed her journey into her room and went downstairs. After dinner she’d probably go to bed immediately. Today was a dud, she’d try to have a better day tomorrow.

xxxx

Tomorrow came sooner than expected. Thankfully the night was uneventful and the food was delicious. Veronica was feeling better about today, except for her meeting with the principal. That was gonna take the wind out of her sails. Vee rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and got dressed in her own uniforms that she managed to get yesterday before the chaos. It was still pretty early to leave the house. Time zone differences was still kicking her tail. “Best to stay inside for today. Ma will have a fit if I leave.” Veronica pulled out her scroll and texted Nick to see if he was awake, partly out of boredom and concern. Weiss had told her and Summer he was going to stay home today and they needed to be on their best behavior. A thumbs up emoji came up to signal that he indeed was awake and Veronica wasted no time quietly getting to his room.

The girl pushed gently on the door to his room and peeked in. “Pssssst!” She heard him chuckled and took it as an invitation to come inside. Nick still wasn’t looking too well. His face was less red, but the bags under his eyes said enough. “You should be sleeping.”

“I was until you texted me.” He watched his friend’s face drop. Veronica mentally chastised herself. “Of course he’s a light sleeper.” She thought. “Sorry, I could go if you want.”

“It’s fine, this works out.” He said in a sleepy voice that was strangely cute. “I wanna tell you to have a good day at school. Don’t let anyone piss you off okay?”

Veronica scrunched her face. That was easier said than done. “I’ll try my best, for you.” Nicholas laughed again and shook his head. “Do it for yourself, you dummy. I’ll be back tomorrow bright eyed and ready to go.”

“Yeah well you need some shut eye for that to happen first.”

“Yeah, yeah, one more thing-”

“I will play nice with Summer.” It was easy to predict that request. Nick smiled and dozed back off to sleep. Veronica dwelt the hair out of his face. To think he would fall asleep like that? Nick really was out of it. Veronica continued to admire him, blushing the longer she did. Without thinking she pushed his hair away from his forehead and started to lean down. One little goodbye peck on the noggin wouldn’t be so bad, right? Veronica could feel her face heating up as she closed her eyes…

“You could get sick you know?” Said Weiss, standing in the door frame with medicine and a cheeky smile. Veronica immediately jolted up as if she hadn’t just been caught red handed. “M- Mrs. Schnee!” She stuttered. “I didn’t hear you come in. Hehehe….” The innocent act fell apart as quickly as Veronica tried to attempt it. The poor girl covered her face to hide the embarrassment. “My bad, that was inappropriate.” She fiddled with her tail. An unexpected pat on the head by the mother of her crush made Veronica yelp. “This is a weird form of punishment.”

“Probably because it’s not punishment silly.” Weiss might’ve been on team Valerie, but she was more than happy to see Veronica act so lovingly around Nick. Weiss gave the girl her own forehead kiss. “Make good choices today. I believe in you, and so does Nick.” Veronica couldn’t hide the warm smile on her face. She nodded in agreement and went on to finish getting ready. Weiss pulled up a chair and sat next to her ill child. She put the back of her hand to his forehead. Nick’s hand suddenly rose up and took hold of it. He opened his eyes and smiled.

“Hey you, one guest after another.” He noticed the medicine and sat up against the backboard. “I can take it myself. Even if it’s absolutely disgusting.”

Weiss gave him the bottle of unpleasantly thick brown syrup. “Sorry to wake you. You can sleep to your heart’s content after this.”

Nick plugged his stuffy nose and chugged down the bottle. Weiss handed him a cup of orange juice to wash away the taste. He couldn’t even describe it. The closest he could think of mildew and broccoli. “Blegh!! What I wouldn’t give to never be sick.”

Weiss stared at him, annoyed by that statement. “Gee, have you tried taking care of yourself. You’d get sick less often. Crazy concept I know, but I hear it works.”

“Hardy har, I will take longer breaks when I can. Could you hand me my scroll?”

Weiss squinted. “Is it business related?” The silence she received was all she needed. “Why are you like this?”

“It’s actually important! It’ll take three minutes, honest!”

“Then let me text it.” Weiss grabbed the scroll. “Who am I looking for?”

“Eliza.” He groaned, it felt weird not having his scroll in his hand. “Found her?”

Weiss shook her head. “You have no contacts under E and the only M you have is me as Mom.”

Nick laughed. “She’s under W.”

Weiss scrolled down. “Whitley, Winter, Work Wife…” her brain stopped, having to reread that last one. “Work Wife?”

Nick nodded, still laughing to himself. “She bugs me enough about council things and treats the school like a house full of kids that we take care of. Work wife seemed appropriate.”

“Is she aware of this nickname?” Weiss questioned, raising an eyebrow that secretly thought the name was funny.

“Heavens no, she’d be so upset. I doubt my name is her phone as anything good anyways. Can you tell her I won’t be at school today and to be the council member to show up in the office with Veronica?”

Weiss gave a thumbs up and sent the message. His scroll started ringing not even ten seconds later. “Your work wife is calling.” Weiss decided now was a good time to give him his scroll. Something Nick was happy about at all as he answered it. “Hello?”

“I am going to strangle you…” Eliza said, the threat sounding genuine. “You wake me up with news like this? We don’t all wake up 4:30”

Nick had actually forgotten how early it was. For once he deserved one of her threats. “Sorry, I just wanted to give you a heads up.”

“You sound congested as hell. You really are sick. Not that I didn’t believe you. Hooky is your sister’s style. Speaking of her, why don’t you ask her to do this?”

“Her and Valerie don’t mix well with Veronica, or dumb and dumber. I need a level head in that office room that isn’t Flynt.” He let out a forced cough, putting a little more strain into it than there actually was. “Please…?” He said with a rasp.

“Mmmmgggghhh! You owe me for this.”

“What will it be? I doubt you want money.”

“Your money can shove it. I want you in top physical condition. Normally I’d ask for something a little more tangible but I did ask you to keep me in the loop, so I guess you can’t complain.”

Nick smiled. “You're the best.”

“No one likes a kiss ass.” She hung up. The conversation went better than he expected so it was a win in his book. He gave Weiss back his scroll and sunk back into his bed. “I guess I’ll try this rest thing, night.” Weiss kissed his forehead and left the room. Finally, Nick closed his eyes to get some much needed rest. The world could deal without him for a day, hopefully.

xxxx

Today was going to be better. Veronica was going to be a model guest, which is what she wanted to believe. A bus ride with loud gossiping teenagers had different ideas for her. Rumors had spread like wildfire in a matter of hours apparently. Each one nastier than the last, but she kept her head down and turned up her headphones. “Just ignore them.” She whispered to herself. Summer sat next to her doing the same. Normally she’d want the girl out of shouting distance, but there was no one else she’d want next to her. At least Summer wasn’t vile or daft. The two didn’t have a conversation, even though it might’ve been beneficial. Something about the silence was comfortable. Summer peaked over her way, her mouth opened with shock.

Veronica took out a headphone despite her cat ears being available. “What?” Summer pointed to Veronica’s phone. The screen displayed one of the covers Summer had put on her album. “Oh, that.” Vee shrugged, “Never heard me question your singing have you.” Veronica left it at that and put back in the headphone, turning to the window. She could still see the singer in the reflection, displaying a pleased smile on her face as she also went back to listening to music. Comfortable silence, the only language besides arguing the two were good at with each other. It was short lived when the ride ended. One by one, kids got off the bus and Eliza stood by the door waiting for woman of the hour. Veronica expected her to be the escort. “Let me guess, Nick?”

Eliza let out a long yawn. “Aaaaaahhh! Interrupted my sleep and everything. Didn’t I specifically tell you to keep in line?”

“You’ll come to learn that I was the kid who scribbled her drawings with the crayons she was given.”Veronica took the lead in their walk to the office. “However, I guess I should stay in the lines today huh?”

Eliza rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Frankly, I don’t expect this to end with a pretty picture.”

xxxx

A pretty picture was indeed not looking well. The two stood on the right side of the office while Darren and Max were on the opposite. Flynt sat at his desk with a cup of coffee Eliza was secretly eyeballing. The man could feel the obvious tension in the room and wanted to get through this as fast and efficiently as possible. “Ms. Belladonna, would you like to tell your side of the story?”

Veronica rubbed her chin. There were many ways to play this out. However, only one way interests her enough to seek out.

Actually…I’d like to hear the story they told first.”

Darren crossed his arms, “What, trying to weave a clever lie?”

“Don’t play coy. I want to know just how clever your lie has to call this meeting.” She shot back, pissing Darren off. “As an upperclassmen, you wouldn’t mind humoring little ol me, right?”

“Tsk, as I told our principal, you were in the way of our lockers. Instead of simply moving out of the way, you got snippy and I got a little snippy back. The amount of disrespect you showed was completely uncalled for. Then you decided to escalate the situation instead of apologizing, assaulting the both of us before Nick showed up to bail you out of trouble that you couldn’t deal with; choosing to fight us too, then running off with you before the faculty could arrive. Ain’t that right Max?” The giant of a man nodded. “More or less.”

“Of course he’d leave out the stupid out the stupid flirting and grabbing my tail; shouldn’t have expected full honesty.” She thought internally. If Veronica could slap the punk right now, she would. The look of Flynt’s face told her that he wasn’t buying their bullshit, but it’s all he had to go with. Until she said her take on it of course. “Funny, that’s not how I remember things.”

“And how exactly do you remember things?” Flynt asked. “I’m curious on how the stories differ. A friendly reminder that I have to take disciplinary measures depending on how things unfold from both stories.”

All eyes were on her now and like always, it was in unflattering circumstances. Veronica’s word against theirs. If she told the truth, then no doubt the principal would take her side, and yet there was a problem. One she refused to create. It was a good thing she got Darren to speak so freely. If today was going to start well, then a lie was going to be told. One in her favor, and theirs.

“Mr. Coal, these two men have some facts messed up, but their story is mostly spot on.” Darren and Max raised their brows while Eliza and Flynt spoke in unison. “It is?” They said, surprised.

“It is. I stood in front of their lockers and caught an attitude, they caught one back. Certain insults were thrown, mainly by me and I got upset when they said their own. I attacked, and the two of them couldn’t handle it.” The bits in her voice appeared for the last part. She could tell Darren wanted to say something but his smarter friend prevented him from speaking. “It honestly wasn’t fair. I got so mad that it was easy to knock them around like amateurs. That’s when Nick showed up.” The little joy she gained from her story turned into seriousness. If it was for him or her family, Veronica would lie to the end of the world. “He didn’t attack Darren and Max. He attacked me.”

Everyone once again looked shocked by her words. Veronica continued speaking. “You know Nick, always trying to defuse a situation. As president, he wasn’t going to let his upperclassmen suffer. He jumped right into the fray in an attempt to restrain me. Obviously limbs were flying everywhere, so he ended up hitting them a little. That’s why they think he was fighting them, but he was just trying to separate me. I ended up hurting him in the process. Nick grabbed me the moment he could and ran off with me so I couldn’t hurt anyone else. That’s what happened.” Her gaze was directed towards Max. Veronica knew if this was going to work then one of them had to play along. It was obvious Max had interest in reining in Darren and letting this incident breeze by.

The man understood the silent compromise. They get off as victims as long as Nick does as well. An option he could live with. He didn’t want a stupid fight to begin with. “I think she might be right.” He said. “I mean if Nick wanted to wail on us then leaving with her makes no sense.” Darren shot him a look of disbelief but it was no match for the quiet wrath of Max, silently telling his hot headed friend to not ruin this. Darre bit his lip and mumbled. “Hmph, that does make more sense.” It burned him up a little that a twirp like Nick was just made a hero for beating him up out of anger.

“Mr. Coal I take full responsibility for what transpired yesterday afternoon.” Veronica bowed. Her voice was even and she held back her frustration. “Please only give me the punishment. I was in the wrong so it’s only fair.”

Eliza was stunned by what was happening before her. Veronica had to know the truth would have shot their story to bits, yet she was willing to bare all the blame. It was unexpected to say the least.”

Flynt stood up from his desk. “Very well then. Darren, Max, you two may return to class. The two boys nodded and headed to the door. “Before you go, let’s make something clear.” Flynt walked past Veronica and stared the two of them in the eyes. “I expect nothing but good behavior from you two. Also, I do not care if you both are key players in this year’s tournament. If someone even hints towards either of you bullying a person, especially a faunus in any shape or form…” he put his full attention on Darren. “We will have a very long and private discussion.”

“I also expect any future problems to be taken to a trusted adult or the student council.” Eliza chimed in. “As a sophomore, it’s only right that I give my attention to my juniors. I will be sure to be more observant.” The venom in her voice was clear as day. The boys slowly walked out of the office and went to class.

“Thanks…” Veronica said to the two of them. I wasn’t expecting threats.

“Threats? We did no such thing.” Flynt sarcastically spoke, returning to his seat. “Now for your punishment.Veronica Belladonna, I expect this tournament to be the biggest yet worth your contribution. Don’t let me down.”

“Th-that’s it?”

Flynt didn’t even bother to look back at her. He just started typing. “If anyone asks, you wrote a three page apology to me. For the love of the Gods though, try to have someone around you so no more incidents like this happen again.

Eliza put an arm around Veronica and led her out. “Alright on it sir. Have a good morning.” She waved him goodbye and shut the door. “Okay then, let’s swing by the cafeteria and get some coffee.”

Veronica was still trying to piece everything together. “Wait, so you’re just volunteering now?”

“Someone has to. Now are you going to complain about getting away with fighting, or help me wake up?”

Today was going to be a better day. Veronica could feel it. “I’ll go get the mugs.”

Part 17

[helihi]

The Good, The Bad, and the Dirty: Spop season 5

I’ve stopped screaming, and I took the time to rewatch season 5 with my little brother. So, here are my thoughts:

The Good

Horde Prime - The cult™ : I really dig the aesthetics, that combo of religious fanatics + fascism hit good. The crew did a good job at portraying Horde Prime as the ultimate villain of the show. He was engaging to watch and his ideology was pretty clear. The way they played with the hive mind concept was really fun, and it was Horde Prime’s biggest strength. He was also a very good manipulator, successfully playing with Glimmer and Adora. He was unsuccessful with Catra because she had already hit her lowest point.

Entrapta: honestly, she was the most hilarious character this season. Not only was she engaging to watch and listen to, I felt really connected to her this season. The fight with Mermista hit really good and it hurt, but you could see her trying her best. I love how open she is and how accepting of everyone and everything. I’m glad we got to see so much of her this season.

Scorpia: baby, she only deserves good things in life. When she got mind control, you could see how fucking powerful she is, but luckily for us, we got to see her shine independently before that. Her interactions with Swift Wind, Perfuma, and Double Trouble made her shine. She’s smart, talented, and without an evil bone in her body. I’m happy she can move on from Catra and find love and friendship. (I hope she reconnects with Lonnie, Rogelio and Kyle in the future too)

Mermista: babe, you were always mood. She has been consistently funny, her get ups and plans are so entertaining to watch, but also: her relationship with Sea Hawk is great! They are definitely made for each other. I’m sad she was mine controlled for the other half of the season, but I’m happy we got to see a lot of her before. (Also she burned someone’s ship OMG GANGSTER SUIT)

Sea Hawk: happy to see him back. He was funny as always, and I’m happy he got his moment with Mermista at the end. 

Perfuma: “ADORA, WHAT DO YOU HAVE THERE?” “A TANK” “NO!” Her relationship with Scorpia is so good! I wish we could’ve seen more.

Netossa: I was one of those who was sad to know the 2 canon lesbians of the show were just background characters. I am so incredibly happy to see her shine this season! SHE SAID MY WIFE. She is the queen of the roasts and I stan.

Spinnerella: Dude, I didn’t know you were this powerful what the fuck. Also, your wife is super cute and she draws like Noelle.

Emotional Support Cat: Bro, I love Melog’s design. I think it was a really clever way to have Catra express her feelings and process them out loud for the audience by giving Catra a supernatural cat.

New She-ra design: I see the subtle reference to Bow, Glimmer and Catra in the design. Honestly, Adora looks 100% more badass.

Not Hordak: I really wish he had picked a name from himself. Aside from Entrapta, this might be the other hilarious character of the season. He goes through his individualization process in a healthier way than Hordak and showcases that the clones can be different from Horde Prime and rehabilitated. I wonder how he will feel about Hordak? But we got no epilogue so idk I guess.

Darla: I can’t believe they named the ship, but I love it.

The Best Friends Squad: I swear to god, when Bow, then Glimmer and then Catra interrupted Adora’s train of thought, I knew we were going to have a great dynamic. The way their characters play of each other is hilarious. Bow, who usually has the only braincell, is cautious and a total dad; Adora is the dumb jock with the heart of gold that gets herself into trouble; Glimmer is the chaotic enchantress with no patience; and finally Catra who’s got all her walls up, but gets shit done. I want a show of them together going on misions and almost dying in the process, thank you.

Catra Redemption: You wanted it, and here you have it! I was cheering for Catra this whole season while proclaiming I’d die for her (which I had only reserved for Scopia previously). Though things may be a little rushed, Catra takes her time to process things, and goes back and forth a couple of times. She deflects, lies, and runs away, but in the end she opens up and rushes back.

In general, the season was packed with content. I was never bored through any episodes and I honestly laughed outloud while watching it alone and later with my brother. There were moments when we paused the episode to discuss what had just happened or to process new information. This makes me feel even more weird about the bland season 2/3 division.

The Bad

Okay so, let me make this clear: I will never attack a ship or anyone who supports it. In this blog we multiship like adults and respect other people’s OTPs.

That being said, while this season was long and packed with content, it also felt rushed when it came to the relationships of the main cast

Glimmer - Catra: The prison episodes had barely any interactions between both of them. I wish they’ve had had more time to talk and to connect. There were Glitra moments that make me feel happy, and my brother was for a moment convinced that they could be canon. They are foils of each other after season 4. The conversation they had, where they realize they had a lot of things in common could’ve been a catalyst for both of them to grow and heal. However, Catra has her change of heart really soon and saves Glimmer, which prevents any deep interactions between them in the future. Aside from the jokes, Catra must be with Adora, and Glimmer must be with Bow, so everything else gets dropped.

Glimmer - Adora: The conflict between them after Angela’s “death” was one of the main plot points of last season. When they reunite again, their issues are solved in a couple of minutes and then brushed off. They really don’t have big interactions after that, which feels completely OOC and empty.

Glimmer - Bow: I wasn’t the only one who felt the sharp turn of their relationship. In previous seasons, it was really platonic, but as soon as they see each other again you know they are going to end up together. The camera zoomed on them, Bow was always holding her protectively, the way they looked at each other change. Since Glimmer is not allowed to have intimate moments with anyone else, it kinda dulls everything up. Don’t get me wrong, I love some best friends to lovers, but in this case it felt rushed for me. If I pinpoint the moment things turned romantic for them, it’s the first time they interact in person this season. It didn’t feel organic (contrast with a ship like Korrasami, where you can point at the moment Asami realized she had feelings for Korra, and then later when Korra’s attitude towards Asami changes after the time skip).

Adora - Catra: Honey, we all knew this was going to be end game, and I love the fact that Catra is dealing with her feelings and Adora acknowledges that. However, after the end of season 3, I’d have expected things to progress a little slower. Catra did put some resistance with the chip scene, but even afterwards, what would’ve been better paced with more episodes, was condensed in a few. Don’t get me wrong. I love that Catra redemption, but I’d have loved a better pacing.

BTW for anyone interested: I ship Glitradora, so any of the 3 ships ending up canon were good for me, and I liked Bow/Glimmer, just preferred them as bffs.

There’s a list of characters that barely show up that could’ve had more screentime:

Huntara: barely appears at all. She’s seen fighting, but there are no references to her or a storyline with her.

Lonnie, Rogelio and Kyle: briefly shown. The gay couple of the century have adopted the baby demon and are now the best dads in the desert. Lonnie is their braincell.

Double Trouble: at least they had a scene and lines, but I feel like they could’ve been more involved after they were discovered by Scopria, especially since they escaped with Sea Hawk and Perfuma.

The Star Siblings: idk man, they were part of a whole episode and then faded into the background. It was a glorified cameo for an episode where Glimmer and Bow fight.

Glimmer’s Aunt: sorry but I was asking “where the hell is she?” until she finally showed up late. She barely had any purpose.

The Dirty

Hey, guys, girls, and nonbinary pals, can we sit down and talk about redemptions?

IDK about you, but just because a show is aimed at kids you shouldn’t “redeem” all the villains. This trend bothers me specially when it touches on abuse or totalitarian leaders.

Shadow Weaver was an abuser until the end. She shouldn’t have had a heroic sacrifice, and her “I’m proud of you” line was bitter for me. I’ve said before I was raised in an abusive household and I don’t think it’s healthy to tell children that you can change your abuser or that you can expect them to change without therapy. I’m glad Shadow Weaver died, but I wish her death wasn’t in any way shape or form considered a “redemption”. A heroic act of sacrifice doesn’t erase all the pain she cause and the years of trauma Catra and Adora have had to endure.

Hordak. HEY HEY ETRAPDAK SHIPPERS DON’T COME FOR ME! I was weirded up by the ship until I realized Etrapta is in her late 20s. I’m happy they found each other but I think it’d be better if Hordak had to redeem himself through a life of service to Etheria. He can't erase the horrible things he has done, but with the help of Entrapta and others, he could give back to the community he ruined. Since we don’t have an epilogue, we just see him reuniting with Entrapta at the end and that’s it.

ALSO SOMEONE GIVE MICAH A HAIR TIE. My man, you are not in a hostile island anymore, go rock a dad bun or a dad ponytail!

--

How do you guys feel about it?

I’m here looking at cute GIFs of Catra and that kiss scene on repeat. I want a Rogelio poster, he was my boy.

[rkvok]

Imposter

Date: Early to mid September, 2020

(tw anxiety, depression, self-hatred)

“You’ll never be Hugo.”

It’s a phrase Moonbok had been expecting to have thrown at him at some stage, but when Hosung snarls it at him after practice during the first week, it feels as though the other member has stabbed him in heart.

No, being stabbed would have hurt far less.

As it is, Moonbok can only take a step back, his expression utterly shocked before it’s wiped away by hurt and even a touch of fear. All he can do is stammer helplessly in response, blinking back tears and trying desparately to keep his voice steady.

“I... I know! I know, I’m not-- That I’ll never---”

“....I’m sorry.”

‘I didn’t ask for this. I don’t want to be Hugo or just his replacement.’

In the end, all Moonbok can do is bow his head and tightly grip his track pants as he tries his hardest not to simply start crying in front of Hosung and the others. After all, they already seem to dislike him, being a crybaby isn’t going to endear him to them any more.

When they arrive back at the dorm he darts straight to his room, promptly burrowing straight under his covers and curling around his pillow and plush, biting down hard on his lip to stifle his sobs.

They’re right after all. He’s not Hugo. He’ll never be Hugo, he’s still just a glorified trainee, really. A jumped up survival show failure that got lucky. He stares at his phone’s screen, thumb hovering over the call icon next to Yoona’s name before he shuts it off.

What good could his cousin do when he hasn’t even told her the truth about why he’s suddenly at the Nova building all day everyday? What if she even feels the same, that he shouldn’t be there either?

Maybe this whole thing was a mistake. Maybe he never should have taken up this position.

Feeling the dark thoughts begin to creep up again, Moonbok pokes his head above the covers long enough to grab his medicine and down them with what little water he has left before retreating back to his makeshift cave and shutting his eyes tight. 

Hopefully sleep would take him into its embrace soon.

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

(A few days later)

A couple of days after the confrontation with Hosung, Moonbok is.... not settled, per se. He’s still cautious around the other members and quick to do anything they say in the hope it’ll earn him any kind of brownie points

It’s still awkward as hell, he’s still anxious as hell but he shoves it aside as best he can, focusing on dance practice until his legs are shaky and his head is spinning. It’s harder to concentrate on the negative thoughts when he’s in this kind of physical condition. And in a slightly masochistic way, Moonbok likes being this wrung out. It reminds him of how much he needs to improve, but also of how much he can endure. If he can still stand up and hold a conversation while his heart is practically breakdancing in his chest, then he can brush away simple feelings and words.

(Though he can tell that Huidong doesn’t particularly approve of this method of coping, if his expression is anything to go by.)

He hasn’t quite worked himself into such a state that evening when Hosung, looking awkward and a little shamefaced (thought maybe that’s just Moonbok) approaches him after practice and asks Moonbok to come with him. He’s a little wary and still hurt, but Moonbok agrees after only a second’s consideration, even offering the other boy a tentative smile.

Even after everything that happened, he’s not getting that hostile vibe from Hosung anymore, and that’s reason enough to be hopeful.

They end up hanging out at a convenience store near the dorm and it’s all Moonbok can do to not start laughing at first, purely because of the memories of Youngjae that the situation evokes. Over a dinner of ramyeon and noodles, however, he and Hosung end up clearing the air between them and Moonbok feels a weight slowly being lifted from his chest.

Of course, he knows this is just a start and that he still has four other members to win over, but Hosung’s kind words and apology are enough to make him smile fully for the first time in what feels like a long time.

“Also… I want you to know that I don’t want you to be Hugo, I want you to be PER_SE’s Moonbok, to find your own place in the team…”

“I will, promise. It’ll take time, but... I promise, I’ll show you a side of me that’ll have been worth waiting for.”

(The kiss of reconciliation was one thing he hadn’t be expecting, though. But as welcomes went, it ranked up there.)

Word Count: 795

[p-and-p-admin]

Interview given to The Severus Snape and Hermione Granger Shipping Fan Group.  (sharing here Admin approved)

https://www.facebook.com/groups/199718373383293/

Hello Emma Ficready and welcome to Behind the Quill, it’s wonderful to finally have the chance to chat with you.

Many readers will know you already from works like “Chimaera” and “Sins of the father” for those that don’t,  a Trigger Warning from Emma that  their works contain graphic violence and abuse and may cause distress to some readers. 

Okay, let’s jump right in. What's the story behind your pen name? It's actually my previous name! Although very apt for a fiction writer. Though it's pronounced more like Thick - Reedy, I use it over my new name because my partner does not know I'm a fiction writer, and I  don't think they'd react well if they found out, it's something they'd struggle with. I'm a long term partial carer for them and they have some mental health issues, so I try to avoid any situations that could be a potential trigger. Plus I like having something all to myself. Which Harry Potter character do you identify with the most? I think I would say I probably relate to Severus Snape the most. I can relate to how 'damaged' he is, and how much the bullying he endured as a child, affected the adult he became. Do you have a favourite genre to read? (not in fic, just in general) I think I like to read angst the most, as to me that's more real, I don't generally read stories that are entirely fluffy all the way through. I love a happy ending, but  I can't cope with total fluff because I find it unrelatable, life isn't sunshine and daisies all the time. Do you have a favourite "classic" novel? I don't know if it's old enough to be classed as a classic, but I'd have to say 'To Kill a Mockingbird' by Harper Lee. At what age did you start writing? Very young. I had my first poem published by aged 10. How did you get into writing fanfiction? After being heartbroken at the end of Harry Potter series , I just wanted more and I had been reading fanfiction stories for years. I was constantly looking for stories, I'd get this thought in my head and it was like 'I wonder if I can find a story about this' and when I couldn't I just thought... well why don't I write it? I also find the writing very cathartic. What's the best theme you've ever come across in a fic? Is it a theme represented in your own works? I love hurt / comfort fics. I'm a sucker for it. It is something that I represent quite a lot in my fictions, because I can see both Hermione and Severus in that role in their own individual way. Hermione who is constantly a champion and a voice for others, and Severus who is there quietly and thanklessly fighting for others the entire time, I can see both of them naturally falling into those roles of 'saving' someone , without it being out of character. What fandoms are you involved in other than Harry Potter? I'm not particularly active in any other fandoms, I have always been a Buffy Fan and I love the Inheritance cycle books by Christopher Paolini , though short of reading other fanfictions I am not active in the community like I am with Harry Potter. If you could make one change to canon, what would it be? The epilogue, probably the  most common answer you get  and I know everyone is going to expect me to say because she never should've married Ron, but I can see her marrying him and subsequently divorcing him as being true to Character but I'd change the epilogue because I don't think Hermione would or should ever have settled for being a ministry worker, she deserved so much more. Do you have a favourite piece of fanon? I don't know if this counts but... Severus's Patronus changing after he survives the war. I see the doe as symbolic to the debt he felt he owed her, and I like the thought of the visual change of patronus, representing the emotional change he goes through in accepting the past and moving on now he feels that he's fulfilled his promises. Do you listen to music when you write or do you prefer quiet? Quiet! I love music, the heavier the better actually, but I have to be in the right frame of mind for it. Otherwise I can sometimes get sensory overload. I hate white noise and things like asmr, I often wear hats or headbands, or have my hood up to block out some noise. What are your favourite fanfictions of all time? How long have you got? Honestly that's not an easy question to answer, and it doesn't have one answer. But I could say that some of the stories I find myself reading over and over again are 'Sin & Vice' , 'Another Dream' and 'Lay me low'. There's no way I could write all my favourites down here, but they're the ones I re-read most often. My favourite WIP is probably ' Inkstains' Are you a plotter or a pantser? 90% Panster. I will literally have one small idea, it could  be one small interaction, one conversation or one event that pops into my head and I will end up writing a story around that one small thing. My story signs entirely stemmed from the one interaction of Severus handing Hermione the note. I knew I wanted that, and then it was by the pants from then on How does that affect your writing process? It means that I do update my stories in a regular order, so no one story is left too long without an update. I literally sit down, crack my knuckles and go 'right, I'm writing the next chapter of this story now. I write it and post it as soon as it's finished. I write from my phone too, so I apologise for any grammatical or spelling errors, auto-correct is the bane of my life at times What is your writing genre of choice? Have you read my fictions!? Interviewer: Well yeah, but I’m asking because you’ll be new to at least  some of the audience. (chuckles) Ha. Sorry. Angst, all the way. I write angst and hurt/comfort, very dark stories as I pull a lot of my ideas from the real life experiences of myself and friends I met in therapy. Writing about trauma is very cathartic for me and helps me process my own feelings about my own history. Which of your stories are you most proud of? Why? Did it unfold as you imagined it or did you find the unexpected cropped up as you wrote? What did you learn from writing it? How personal is the story to you, and do you think that made it harder or easier to write? That's a tough one, as there are elements to all of them that are important to me. None of the stories I write quite unfold like I imagined they would, they just sort of take off and I'm along for the ride. I'd be remiss not to talk about Not the Same girl at this point, as that story has probably had the biggest impact for me, the responses it's had and the people reaching out to me, both positively and negatively. I've had some outright hate over that fic, and abusive messages to the point that I almost gave in altogether and I think because of that people will expect me to say Not the Same girl is the fiction I relate to most, and while I do draw a lot from personal experience it's actually Father Mine as that resonates with me on a more personal level, that and an as yet unpublished WIP I have in the works, I think the huge dichotomy of feedback I've had for stories like Not the Same girl though, have both given me a thicker skin to the hate and encouraged me through the sheer overwhelming amount of people who’ve reached out, that find the stories cathartic in dealing with their own trauma, which is gratifying as an author to do that for people, when I myself am looking for that same release in writing it. It's great to have this mutual satisfaction and it's really rewarding. What books or authors have influenced you? How do you think that shows in your writing? I think probably going to refer back to Harper Lee and to kill a mockingbird. The whole premise of telling a story that no one wants to hear or acknowledge, the things that are widely known but rarely spoken about. In “To kill a mockingbird” it's sexism, racism and prejudice against others based on their mental health or intelligence but we still see this so much in daily life, about how much hate and horror and suffering is seen in day to day life, the trauma that so many people have suffered is widely known but swept under the rug because it's easier. No. Hell No. Fuck that. Hiding doesn't change any of it, it may be under the rug but it's still there. People rape other people, people hurt other people, people discriminate based on gender, sexual preferences, skin colour, occupation, people have suffered in life and are damaged by it. Acknowledge it. Don't  brush it under the rug, don't ignore it because it's more comfortable for most people, shine the light on it and say. "This is real. This happens. We need to acknowledge it and we need to do something about it"  And I think that's shown in my writing , I don't glorify  anything, I'm not writing snuff but I don't hide anything either. I make people see this is something that I won't gloss over. Does it make you uncomfortable? Good , it should. If people are uncomfortable , at least they are acknowledging the realness of that situation and not ignoring it. Do people in your everyday life know you write fanfiction? How true for you is the notion of "writing for yourself"? Nobody knows I write fanfiction,  I use a previous name and I very much write for my own cathartic relief. I chose not to share that I write fiction because I'm a carer for my partner, I don't know how they'd react, it could honestly go either way where they'd be absolutely fine or it would trigger them and I'd have to stop, that's the reason I keep it to myself, I'd hate to do something that would mean I'd have to stop writing, not when so many people are so emotionally invested in the stories that I write. How important is it for you to interact with your audience? How do you engage with them? Just at the point of publishing? Through social media? Reviews man. Reviews are the nectar of life, I read every single one and though I don't have time  to reply to most, trust me when I say that I treasure each one and appreciate them immensely. I have my social media which I find the easiest way to speak to people , I have my own Page on Facebook and I'm on a number of SS/HG groups. It's hugely important to me to speak to my audience and I really encourage them to get in touch with me, I'm always happy to talk about my work and people have been in touch just to talk about their feelings or emotions that have been triggered by my work and I welcome it all.  I mean, I've got people translating my stories them into French, into Russian...it's crazy, I never expected it to be so popular and I am always happy to hear from people. Though I apologise if I don't respond straight away,  I have to write on the sly and sometimes real life takes over, so I can't log in for a week or more at a time.   What is the best advice you've received about writing? First and Foremost, write for yourself. The rest is just gravy. What do you do when you hit writer's block? I move on to another story. I always have more than one WIP at any one time, If I can't find inspiration for one, I'll update another, or start a jumble of notes for others. There's always something that needs to be written down, even if it wasn't what I had planned on. Has anything in real life trickled down into your writing? Very much so. Almost all the trauma and hurt and situations that appear in my stories are either translated from my own experiences or those of people I know. Do you have any stories in the works? Can you give us a teaser? I had a number of stories in the works! When A Cure For Magic is completed, I will most likely post the next one up. I can't give too much away , but the next story is called "Catching Fire" and will be an incredibly dark story, with a lot of morally grey characters. Any words of encouragement to other writers? Just do it.  If you want to write it,. write it. First and foremost write for yourself. Don't listen to anyone who's negative ,or unsupportive. I get so many people message me saying things like 'I want to be a writer', but don't know where to start' and to which my answer is you already are a writer. Writing is 99% mental, you have the words, they're there in your head, you just haven't put them down yet. Thanks so much for giving us your time.   Any time , it's been great and I'm happy to answer questions any time , thank you for inviting me.

[osleyakomwonkru]

The 100 and the Crab Bucket of Zero-Sum Heroism

This is a feeling I started to get during season 5, and season 6 has definitely confirmed it - since the start of season 5, there has been a definite bias in the writing and narrative framing of the show, designed to make Clarke and Bellamy - and only Clarke and Bellamy - the heroes of this piece, whether it is earned or unearned.

Now, one might say the story has always been about them. And to a point, that’s true. But what happens when your “heroes” have become so morally grey that they’re really just a light shade of dark?

Usually the answer to that would be “make them better”. Yet for some reason, The 100 has taken the complete opposite approach since the beginning of season 5 - there’s been a concerted effort to redeem them not by improving their own actions, but by vilifying others for crimes no different than their own (or even lesser crimes, or no crimes at all). Instead of building their “heroes” up, all they can do is tear others down.

Which brings us to the sociological concepts in the title that are applicable to this analysis:

Crab bucket syndrome is the concept of “if I can’t have it, neither can you” - put into the crab example, it describes how if one crab could escape from a bucket, the other crabs will prevent it from doing so, and thus they all die. In our case, that’s how if Clarke or Bellamy can’t be seen as “good”, then neither should anyone else, and everyone else should be tarred with an even darker brush in order to make them look better.

Zero-sum heroism - a zero-sum game is one in which there’s a fixed amount of reward, so if one person gets a lot, others get very little or none. Zero-sum heroism then would be the idea that there’s a fixed amount of heroism to go around, so for some to have it, others have to lose it.

Now, this is all in how the story is told, not in how the characters themselves act - this post isn’t a commentary on how the characters themselves behave (which is why I’m not tagging it as anti-anyone), but on how we, the viewers, are expected to view and then agree/disagree with their actions and words by the way the narrative frames them.

I started to notice this in season 5, because the target for tear down and villainization was Octavia. In season 6, it is still Octavia, but Raven and Murphy have also been added to the mix, in different ways, but with the same goal - exalting Clarke and Bellamy at the expense of others.

Raven 

With only two episodes to go, our favourite zero-G mechanic has had very little to do this season. She’s had two jobs - glorified chauffeur and Miss Morality. You’d think a character talking about morality and doing better should be good, right?

But that’s not how the narrative has cast her. By making this her main role of the season, the narrative frames her as a catty bitch for wanting people to be good. She’s unreasonable for not wanting Clarke to go on the first exploratory mission. She’s mean for calling Clarke out on her repeating course of bad choices. She has to be convinced to not revolt against the Primes and that they need the Primes’ knowledge to build their own compound, but this is Raven fucking Reyes and when has not knowing the answer to a problem ahead of time ever stopped her before? 

All the narrative has done to her has been to portray her as bad for wanting to be good, because her good conflicts with the narrative’s ability to exalt Clarke. At first I thought this was in preparation for a moral ladder knockdown - that is, that this season Raven’s going to be faced with one of those impossible choices, so that she’s knocked off her pedestal, as has been done to Clarke, Bellamy and Octavia in the past, but more and more I’m now thinking that it is in fact just to prop up Clarke. Which brings us to...

Murphy

Where this setup has Raven as Clarke’s foil, Murphy is likewise Bellamy’s foil - and this last episode really threw this into stark perspective. What Murphy is doing this season is exactly what Bellamy was doing last season - negotiating with the enemy in an attempt to peacefully save their people. Yet somehow the narrative wants us to believe that Murphy is wrong for doing what he’s done, but we were supposed to cheer for Bellamy when he was doing the same.

Yes, Murphy has some aspect of personal gain going for him, in the name of immortality for him and Emori, but I don’t believe that was his motivation. That was a pacifier. He was pretty sure that if he turned Josephine down that he was at risk of death, and he was right - he learned fast that Josephine was not afraid to kill people in pursuit of her goals. The only purpose the mind drives serve is camouflage - a way to put a “selfish” stamp on him, when everything he’s done has been to try and cut their losses in favour of peace, drives or no drives. Plus this last episode, he was working with them to find Josephine not because he gets that immortality, but because if he failed, the consequence would be Emori’s death.

Not to mention that all of this comes on Murphy just after he’s endured a traumatic near-death experience, which also plays into his choices, which brings us to...

Octavia

Octavia being cast as the villain (which was all tell and no show, as I talked about here), her PTSD and other mental illness being demonized (see here), and the horrible and hypocritical ways she’s been treated by the other characters is something I’ve talked about at length (here, here, here, here and here). And when I first planned this post, before S6, it was set to be only about Octavia, but I never got to it, and now as S6 is almost over, I saw that other characters fit in here as well. So as this post pertains to Octavia, you can also read the posts that were building up to this one in my series of how everyone failed her (here, here and here).

So with all of that meta already done, let’s get to the meat of how it applies here - by the end of season 4, Octavia’s star was fast on the rise. She saved the human race in a way no one else could. But the narrative sees a flaw to this - Octavia is the tritagonist, not the protagonist, after all, she can’t be more of a hero than the protagonist or the deuteragonist, since she’s a foil to both Clarke and Bellamy (see this post on the head, the heart and the soul) .

So what does narrative do? Make her fall from grace.

But for what? Making impossible choices to save her people? Clarke and Bellamy have done that. Being in charge of who lives and who dies? Clarke’s done that too. Even if you believe that the war against the prisoners was ill-advised (I personally don’t, see here) and something that could have been avoided - Bellamy has also done that.

(Not to mention how the war played out anyway - narrative tells us throughout the buildup to the war that it is something that Wonkru will lose, despite superior numbers and a sneak advantage, ergo why everyone was sabotaging Octavia’s plans. But they won the war in fifteen minutes once all of our protagonists were fighting on the same side, despite having lost half the army and the enemy knowing precisely where they were and when they were attacking. Clearly it was not unwinnable, it was only unwinnable as per narrative because it was Octavia’s plan, as seen here.)

There is nothing that Octavia has done that Clarke or Bellamy haven’t also done. Octavia’s only “crime” is being Octavia, and thus not someone who is allowed to have the hero narrative.

In case there’s any doubt about that, there’s how she’s been treated this season. At the end of season 5, she did what is expected of any repentant “villain” - try to sacrifice themselves, fail, then swallow their pride, step back and be a footsoldier for the good fight. Which is all that’s ever been asked of Bellamy whenever he’s done a Heel-Face Turn (in season 1, and again in season 3).

But that’s not good enough for this narrative. Octavia needs to be kept down. First by being excluded and beaten and abandoned. Then after beginning to find her peace (with no help or apologies from anyone who caused her to lose it in the first place), and in fact finding a peace she’s never had, she keeps having her past thrown into her face by her brother - and a past he wasn’t there to witness, at that, and likely doesn’t have all the facts on. But the narrative still allows him to judge her for something he doesn’t understand and didn’t witness. The narrative is also making her work for forgiveness and redemption, when it hasn’t demanded the same from Clarke or Bellamy (even when other characters have suggested that it should).

Clarke has been through the wringer this season (well, the episodes where she was present and conscious in her body) in terms of how she’s been treated by other characters, but narrative framing says that we should be sympathizing with her - and I’m sure that by the end of the season, all will be forgiven because of what she’s experienced this season. But she still hasn’t done anything to earn that forgiveness.

We are also supposed to believe - because he’s said so - that Bellamy has learned from his mistakes. But this season has shown that he hasn’t. Other people have had to talk him down from genocide twice. That doesn’t show the growth that the narrative tells us is supposed to be there.

With Clarke out of the picture as far as action goes for most of the season, and Bellamy wanting to go back to his emotional “kill everyone” solutions, it is no wonder that in order to preserve their sanctity as the protagonists of the show, that the narrative has had to throw even more people under the bus to accomplish that. I just question why. Why not treat all of the characters fairly? Why do some need to be disparaged for others to rise? Why not let everyone do better, and be allowed to do so without judgment? Those are some questions I’d like answered.

[joeys-piano]

odazai :3c or if you've already been asked for it, then dazatsu!

I only have enough energy to do the Odazai one, Luka~ Since this ask is pretty long (nearly 4k!), here’s the gist if you’re unable to read the full version at this time:

Far from being a perfect couple, what’s emotionally intimate and personal about Dazai and Oda’s relationship is that despite their differences and their faults, they make strides in understanding each other and in recognizing each other’s boundaries. It’s not always perfect, there are mishaps and mistakes along the way, and certain things are a rather sore subject to them both. But something admirable and important to take away from this is that Dazai and Oda make an effort to listen to each other, to understand the undercurrent of tension and stress that lapses between them at times, and they’re both gradually moving forward with what they have learned and that adds vitality and strength to their relationship.

Send Me A Ship, And I’ll Tell You…

who is more likely to hurt the other?While it would seem contrary and even OOC for me to say this, I believe that Oda would be more likely to hurt Dazai. Before you stab me for my hearsay, let me explain.  The term “hurt” can be used as an umbrella term for different types of pain: physical, emotional, mental, etc… Oda wouldn’t physically or mentally hurt Dazai. He has no reason to, and it’s not in his nature to lash out in those ways. The only pain that Oda ever dealt to Dazai was emotional.

We see this towards the end of the Dark Era arc when Oda bids his final farewell to his children before confronting Gide. In the silence of that moment, with desperation rising in his throat, we watch and listen as Dazai asks – no, pleads – for Oda to think this over and find something else to live for. For the first time, the demonic mask of the Port Mafia Executive falls. Left behind and hardly unscathed is the face of a child, of a young man who had nothing to live for but is desperately clinging onto the one person that his world wouldn’t be the same without. Despite all of this, despite this probably being the first time Dazai has ever broken from his usual composure, Oda tells him that he can’t do that.

To Oda, if he was to go back on this, his children would’ve died for nothing. Their deaths would forever haunt him if he couldn’t avenge for them, himself. What’s even more emotionally painful about this scene is that this is one of the few, poignant moments where Oda doesn’t yield to Dazai’s words. It’s hard to put up a nonchalant front and casually go along with what your friend is saying when you’ve lost some of the most important people in your world. With that established and mutually understood, Oda leaves behind a gaping hole within Dazai’s heart before departing from the scene.

But even if we forget that canon exists and we’re lawlessly frolicking through the land of AU, I still stand by the idea that Oda is more likely to emotionally hurt Dazai. Not in a sense where there’s a lack of respect or trust in the relationship, not in a sense where everything’s on the rocks and hearts are on edge, but in the sense of honesty. Of the duo, Oda is more of an honest man and Dazai knows this. So when Oda says something, the weight behind his words is even heavier because there’s no hidden agenda to obscure anything. Oda means what he says. So sometimes, whether intentional or not, what he says hurts.

Dazai isn’t someone who’d flourish his heart at his sleeve. Or in other words, he’d rarely admit if he was hurt by something Oda had said. I’d imagine that Dazai would take Oda’s words into consideration and resolve to do better if disappointment is what’s lingering in the air. Having known him for a considerable amount of time, Oda would notice the slight shift in Dazai’s words and body language and realize that he had hurt him.

who is emotionally stronger?At a first glance, it seems 50/50. Oda and Dazai both possess an incredible amount of resilience and resolve, so I have no idea who would be emotionally stronger than the other! I’d say that they’re both equals when it comes to this^^

who is physically stronger?At first glance, you’d think it’s Oda. Former-assassin, former glorified handyman of the Port Mafia, and probably dragged a very drunk-off-his-ass Dazai from the Bar Lupin after a long Friday night…

This question ultimately depends on what you mean by physical strength. If we’re talking about endurance and physical prowess, I’d say that Oda has the upperhand in that department. If we’re talking about endurance in regards to physical pain and taking into account the body’s rate of healing after being afflicted by a series of injuries, Dazai wins in that department. They’re both physically stronger than the other in different ways.

who is more likely to break a bone? Dazai has probably broken as many bones in his body as there are stars in the sky.

who knows best what to say to upset the other?Dazai. Sometimes, whether he means well or not, he knows exactly what to say to garner a rise from Oda. Sometimes it’s through a careless phrase or a careless set of words, sometimes it’s through an overly elaborate explanation when only a word or two would suffice or sometimes, Dazai drifts a little too far and Oda is reeling him back. Oda is a writer, after all. He can decipher many of the nuances behind Dazai’s words.

who is most likely to apologise first after an argument?Dazai is aware when he takes an argument too far, so I could see him being the first to apologize. There are moments where he’ll fixate on a little thing and an argument escalates as a result of that fixation. Oda would’ve grown tired of it and would try to move on, but Dazai would reel the topic back into the foreground of the conversation until A] Oda tells Dazai that he needs some time to himself or B] Oda may have to raise his voice so Dazai would know that he doesn’t want to continue the conversation anymore.

Dazai never realized he had a habit of fixating on certain things in conversations until he saw how upset Oda was during one of its first occurrences. Before Oda could apologize for raising his voice, an air of exasperation at his tongue, Dazai apologized first. He’d apologize for not paying attention to Oda’s boundaries, for pushing Oda beyond his comfort zone, and for ignoring his repeated asks/requests to change the topic of conversation. Dazai initially ignored these things because this is the same tactic he’d used to whittle information out from traitors, criminals, and hostages that had found their way into one of the Port Mafia’s interrogation rooms. He didn’t think that old tactic would emerge in his and Oda’s relationship, but now he knows.

who treats who’s wounds more often? Oda is one of the very few people that Dazai trusts enough for this job. Dazai is intimately aware of how vulnerable he is while his wounds are getting treated, and he trusts Oda enough to know that the man won’t stab him while he’s getting stitches or rubbing ointment over his bruises.

who is in constant need of comfort? Having forsaken his humanity while living under the Port Mafia’s name, there are moments where Dazai reaches out for Oda and cuddles into the man’s arms. Because within that moment, while surrounded by Oda’s warm and tight embrace, Dazai feels a little more human. He feels like he’s able to continue on this path of being a good person, a person striving towards the light. He feels a little safer, able to let down his guard and simply be himself. He feels whole, even though he’s a few cracks away from falling apart. Oda is the embodiment of Dazai’s strength, so Dazai snuggles against him to regain that strength.

who gets more jealous? I can see slight shades of this from both of them. Where for Oda, the jealousy manifests as a want to protect Dazai from others that might be using him for their own good or for worse. And for Dazai, the jealousy manifests like a calm before a storm when he quietly confronts someone on what their intentions are with Oda. Jealousy, especially when in regards to love, isn’t an emotion that I write about often so I’m not sure how to answer this^^

who’s most likely to walk out on the other? Dazai. Not because he wants to, but because it’ll protect Oda and the world that Oda believes in. 

who will propose? It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a man with everything to live for would want to share that everything with the man he has longed for. For someone as exquisite and as eccentric as Dazai, marrying him in a church was one of the last things on Oda’s mind. But to marry him like this, with Life and Death as their sole witnesses, perhaps it wasn’t a strange idea after all. In a beautiful yet peculiar way, it made sense to die together in order to live together.

So after an unsuccessful attempt at leaping from a bridge and falling into a river, while Dazai fished him from the edge of the embankment and congratulated him for surviving his first suicide attempt, Oda proposed right then and there. When Dazai reached out his hand, Oda clasped a wet engagement ring against his palm and asked if Dazai would marry him. The only sound that registers to Oda’s ears are the quick, short breaths that unfurl from Dazai when he realizes what the latter has just asked. He mumbles quietly, more to himself than to anyone else, that he’d only bring Oda trouble. Without missing a beat, Oda replies that in loving someone for who they are, to know their flaws and love them too, was an honest kind of love. That’s how Oda described his love for Dazai, and Dazai just stares at him before a smile threatens to break his expression.

who has the most difficult parents?Considering I know nothing about their family history, I can’t answer this question with confidence! If I were to guess, I’d say Dazai.

who initiates hand-holding when they’re out in public? During the soft lulls where they’re walking together, occasionally brushing hands because they’re walking so closely to one another, Oda reaches out for Dazai and Dazai intertwines their fingers together. They fit so naturally, hand in hand, as if there’s nowhere else that their hands could be.

who comes up for the other all the time? I don’t know what this question means.

who hogs the blankets? Occasionally, but more often than Oda could count, he’d sleepily climb into bed and discover that all the blankets are gone. The fleece, the cotton, the synthetic wool, the heater-blanket that Dazai has cherished during the past four years of their relationship, and the thin sheet that Oda often drapes under because his body overheats at night are gone. Disappeared. Vanished, like they were never here. Patting his hands around the bed, eyes still closed and heavy with sleep, Oda tries to figure out where everything had gone. Eventually, his hands meander from his side to the bed to Dazai’s. Where his fingers thread through Dazai’s hair, where his palm lightly taps Dazai’s snuggled cheek, and….where Oda’s hands discover a large and fluffy blanket cocoon where Dazai’s body should be.

It takes about fifteen seconds before Oda feels like he has enough energy to open his eyes, and what he sees makes him wonder if he’s dreaming. Dazai had wrapped all of the blankets around himself, and he’s currently snugged like a burrito on his side of the bed. If the light snoring is of any indication, Dazai is fast-asleep and has already drifted off to La La Land. Sinking into the bed slowly, Oda carefully rolls onto this side and tries to peel the cocoon off from his husband. He knows that Dazai gets cold at night, but this is rather extreme. Especially since the heater-blanket is so closely snugged to Dazai, Oda fears that his beloved will be dead by the next morning because of overheating.

One measly inch at a time, pausing every now and then when Dazai moves or wiggles around, Oda takes his time as he slowly unravels the cocoon. With each layer that he manages to peel off, Oda can discern a sweet smell. It’s faint, almost like the vanilla body wash that’s in the shower right now, and Oda can find the smell on the sheets and it’s even stronger with every blanket-layer he manages to pull off from Dazai. Ah, Dazai must’ve fallen asleep as soon when he got out from the shower. Probably cold from the lack of steam around him, it would’ve prompted him to fashion this blanket cocoon. It all made sense now. The last blanket-layer, the heated-blanket, remained untouched as Oda gathered the rest of the cocoon and lazily dispersed the layers around the bed. Draped under his thin sheet, now secure and slightly protected from the cold, Oda can finally sleep.

But oh, he’s roused from his slumber and it’s barely been five minutes! As he opens his eyes, Oda realizes that he’s slowly being turned. Somewhere in the midst of sleep, Dazai had instinctively reached out for Oda and is currently tangled yet snuggled under the man’s arms and legs. It was as if Dazai could sense that his blanket cocoon had been destroyed, so he carefully crafted another. Where instead of reaching out for the sheets, Dazai reached out for the warmest thing in the vicinity. So that’s how a very toasty Dazai and a very sleepy Oda would fall asleep on most nights. Where Dazai is secured, warm, and affectionately cuddled while Oda tenderly embraces him and feels a little colder when Dazai steals his thin blanket and is too tired to fish for it again.

who gets more sad? Sadness isn’t the only thing that lingers when Dazai is upset, but frustration crackles like a fire if he’s left to his own devices. Maybe sadness and frustration aren’t the only feelings, caged within his heart. Perhaps, there’s a note of exhaustion that unfurls as a whisper because Dazai keeps it to himself.

Sometimes, there are moments where he doesn’t have the energy to be a good person. Sometimes, he feels less inclined to help others and wishes for them to figure out what they need to do instead. Sometimes, it really bothers him how others have a much easier time of being a good person while this is something that Dazai still struggles with. Two, four, six years down the line. He’s tired, emotionally and mentally drained. Unable to put up his usual antics at the office and is aware of Kunikida and Atsushi are staring at him, brows knitted with concern. Dazai leaves the agency early that day and when he gets home, he’s writhed with shame and disappointment with how he’s been acting.

When he left the Port Mafia with Oda, he knew it’d be hard. He knew he’d struggle with being a good person, he knew he’d have to persevere and push through whatever he was dealing with, and…Dazai’s thoughts are interrupted when the front door opens and Oda is watching him with a peculiar glint in his eyes.

The door had been unlocked, but no one was coming inside. That was why Oda opened the door, concerned that something must’ve happened. And he looks at Dazai and sees the weariness in his eyes, Oda takes Dazai by the hand and slowly leads him to the kitchen where he can sit down. Dazai is so stiff that he’s unable to ease into his seat, even with the helpful coax of Oda’s hands at his shoulders. A series of tight, worrying knots are hitched at Dazai’s back so Oda massages the aches with a delicate touch.

During moments like this, Oda knows better than to ask Dazai of what’s bothering him. During moments like this, Oda’s first priority is for Dazai to feel comfortable. And then after that, they can work through and talk about whatever is on Dazai’s mind. Oda gives Dazai a choice on when he wants to talk about these things and tries his best not to urge Dazai to speak if the latter doesn’t feel like speaking. By taking things at a slower, more flexible pace, Oda knows that Dazai will be more honest with him when they’re finally speaking. He knows that Dazai won’t be hiding anything from him, and he knows that Dazai won’t be putting up a front to seem strong in Oda’s eyes.

After about an hour, after an early dinner, after a warm and lazy bath where Dazai messed with a rubber duck while Oda shampooed his hair, and after spending nearly the entire evening snuggled at Oda’s side while the latter is reading a book of poetry, Dazai finally speaks. His voice is quiet, his words are murmured into Oda’s skin, but Oda listens to him. He closes the book of poetry and gives Dazai his full, undivided attention as Dazai whispers what’s been bothering him. He confesses his fears, his worries, and everything in between while Oda rubs small circles along his back.

After hearing Dazai’s concerns, Oda talks to him. This is one of those rare and few moments where Oda speaks a lot more than he usually does while Dazai is quietly listening. Giving advice isn’t one of Oda’s strongest points, so he talks from his own experience and how he kind of figured out that being a good person is more than just being good. You can still be a good person, even if you have bad thoughts or impulses at times. You can still be and become a good person, even if your past wasn’t grounded in a good place. Oda tells Dazai that sometimes being a good person involves struggling through, working against, or even despite these things. That Dazai isn’t any less of a good person because he has to work a lot harder than others, but that he’s grown into a stronger and more self-aware person that recognizes where pitfalls are and consciously makes the choice to do more good rather than harm.

Despite being a writer, sometimes words aren’t Oda’s strongest points. He hopes that what he said helped Dazai, even if it was a little bit. Because in truth, Oda’s still trying to figure this out for himself. He’s been through whatever Dazai’s feeling right now, he’s thought the same thoughts, and felt the same frustrations that would leave him out of it for weeks. During those times, what helped Oda the most was having Dazai with him and having someone to talk to. During moments like this, Oda wants to be there for Dazai even if he isn’t quite sure of what to do. But the effort and company sure helps.

who is better at cheering the other up? Considering the above, I think it’s Oda.

who’s the one that playfully slaps the other all the time after they make silly jokes?A glass or two of whisky has been dropped on multiple occasions because Dazai doesn’t know his own strength when he playfully slaps Oda on the shoulder. The two would be joking about something and Dazai would tell the corniest, worst joke in the history of all jokes. And while he’s laughing his butt off, his hand starts flying and makes an impact with Oda’s shoulder. After a few times, the couple has agreed to an unspoken rule that jokes should be reserved at home. Where the cups are made of plastic, where the alcohol is much cheaper, and where there isn’t a bartender to apologize to whenever a portion of whisky goes flying across the bar.

who is more streetwise?Dazai without a doubt. He knows where all the local gangs are and used to antagonize them when he was younger, more brash, and more trigger-happy with a gun. Since joining the ADA, he has mellowed out and has used his street knowledge to aid the agency when they’re busting arson loots and drug trades.

who is more wise?Dazai has more wisdom when it comes to life, death, and the role of violence when the opportunity is in one’s hands. Oda has more wisdom when it comes to experience, philosophy, and the role a person takes if they’re wanting to reform their life. It really depends on what kind of wisdom you’re talking about.

who’s the shyest? People would say that Oda’s the shyest out of the couple because he’s quiet, he doesn’t speak very much, and he isn’t one for rowdy environments. They would say he’s shy because most of his activities are very introverted (writing, reading, preferring home rather than going outside, etc…) People would often say that if it wasn’t for Dazai, it’d be a wonder if anyone would notice Oda at all. While these assumptions have some truth to their foundations, anyone that knows Oda knows that he isn’t shy.

Oda’s quiet because he’s observing the world, the people, and the environment around him and acts accordingly depending on that observation. He doesn’t speak very much because often, he doesn’t need to speak at all. Or if he does want to speak, he’s carefully choosing his words and deliberates if what he wants to say makes sense, if what he says is polite, and if what he says is meaningful/necessary to the discussion. His activities are rather introverted because he’s a writer. He spends his days at home, working on his manuscript or reading a good book to entice his imagination, and it’s pretty hard to write on the go when you can’t control the weather or the people around you. Oda’s quiet and stoic nature is one of the first things that distinguishes him from a crowd, and people are often drawn to him because there’s this mysterious allure and atmosphere surrounding him. Were it not for Dazai, it’d be a wonder if anyone would talk to Oda at all.

But when the world sees that this dashing young fellow, tackling Oda into a surprise hug, all of the people can breathe a little sigh for Oda’s not as intimidating as he looks.

who boasts about the other more? If Kunikida had a notebook for every moment Dazai talked about Oda, he’d be drowning in a lot of notebooks. Without fail, Dazai would boast about a lot of Oda’s accomplishments. No matter if they’re big or small. Since Oda rarely goes out because he’s working on his manuscript, Dazai takes it as his duty to remind the world of what a good, sweet, caring, and hardworking person his husband is. In which Kunikida will argue how such a good husband married a slacker like Dazai. And in turn, Dazai will have a hand at his chest and dramatically accuse Kunikida of such slander! They would be at each other’s throats were it not for Oda, calling in at the right moment to calm Dazai down and to apologize to Kunikida on behalf of his husband’s behavior.

who sits on whose lap?The simple answer is that they take turns. Dazai sits on Oda’s lap during soft, calm moments where they’re both reading or watching the TV. Oda sits on Dazai’s lap when the latter wants a good cuddle session and claims that he has an easier time when Oda’s on his lap.

[v3rd]

Title: What The Full Moon Brings

Rating: E

Words: 1711

Summary: The morning after a full moon brings some awkward revelations about Shuichi’s new form, as well as signs of his changing relationship with Kaito.

Shuichi stirred with the morning sunlight brushing his cheeks, the warm light easing past his closed eyelids and into his head. Unprepared, a soft whine left him as he rolled away, trying to hide his face so he could resume his rest. He was so warm... so comfortable... and still so tired.

A few more minutes of flickering in and out of consciousness was all he managed to get, however, as what he'd assumed to be his pillow suddenly took a deep breath, another grumbling whine leaving a throat that wasn't his own. Shuichi's body sunk lower on the bed as the support was pulled out from under his head, the side of his face quickly finding the bed sheets.

"Mm..." Shuichi reluctantly peeled his eyes open, shifting until he could prop himself up on his arms. His body shivered from air rushing over cold sweat. But he hardly had time to linger on that as his eyes landed on the person next to him.

Kaito.

His face flushed. He... somewhat remembered how he'd gotten here. Since being bitten by a werewolf, he'd had to deal with the consequences of being forced to shift every full moon. The first time, Hope's Peak had prepared an enclosure for him to use. It wasn't much better than a glorified cage--he'd hated every second in that room.

So, when this next full moon had drawn closer, he'd approached Kaito, and... well, he'd initially only vented about how the school's solution wasn't ideal, which had led to Kaito's offer to stay with him instead. Always the one to take risks, Kaito's lack of regard for his own safety didn't surprise Shuichi. And, of course, there had been nothing he could say or do that would deter him, so Shuichi relented, deciding that if things got dangerous, that Kaito would follow through with his reassurance of getting help.

The night itself was but a blur in Shuichi's mind. He could faintly recall when he'd started to feel off--the sign he'd begun to recognize meant he was starting to shift. A quick glance around the room revealed no damage, thankfully, but he did see the shredded remains of the clothes he'd worn the day before. Modesty had won out, and he paid the price for it.

That sight sparked a thought in his mind, and he quickly looked down to see his bare body, lower half only just covered by the thick space comforter draped over the two of them. As if he wasn't embarrassed already, sleeping in the same bed as someone he was admittedly very attracted to--and not only that, but cuddling up to him--and the realization that he was doing so naked--

He scrambled to throw the covers off, body unsurprisingly sore from the ordeal of transforming twice in the span of a single night. His eyes rapidly scanned the room, entirely focused on finding something to wear, to cover himself up before--

"Hm...? Shuichi...?" Kaito stirred, calling out with a deep, sleep-filled yawn. Shuichi froze, and like a deer in the headlights, he was unable to do anything but watch as the other rolled over and pulled himself up into a seated position. He rubbed at his eyes, another yawn joining the first. "Up already?"

"Yes...?" His response was hesitant and unsure, despite the fact that it was an easy answer. It was probably because he was suddenly very aware of the fact that Kaito wasn't wearing a shirt, exposing his well-built chest. Was he wearing any...?

No! Abort mission! He mentally smothered the rising thoughts to contain the building fire crawling under his skin.

Oblivious to Shuichi's inner struggle, Kaito stretched, a content hum filling the room. "I see, that's good. Thought you'd be out for a while, all things considered." Before Shuichi could begin to make wild assumptions about other interpretations of Kaito's statement, he continued on. "If you want the shower first, it's all yours."

... God, this was too domestic.

"I, um, should probably be getting back to my own room." A nervous laugh accompanied his reply, bubbling out of his throat reflexively. He reached for the blanket, pulling his legs toward himself to hide his state of undress.

Unfortunately, that just attracted Kaito's attention. His eyes were still unfocused with sleep, but awake enough that Shuichi could see the moment that awareness crept into them, dusting Kaito's cheeks with a pink tinge. "Oh, uh, sorry 'bout your clothes. They were, uh, you know, you were kinda... Upset? Er, well, maybe more of restless..." He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing in an alluring way.

"Restless?" Well, that wouldn't surprise him. Transforming, although not pain-free, seemed to give him a burst of adrenaline.

"Yeah, and, uh..." He licked his lips, then his eyes, which had been flickering around everywhere but Shuichi, returned to him--or rather, to his bare skin, trailing lower and lower--

By the time the realization of where Kaito was looking hit him, it was too late to cover himself up. But shock didn't fill Kaito's eyes; it was more of... confusion? As Shuichi jerked the blanket over his lower half, Kaito's eyes snapped up, clearly not intending to let his gaze stray so far off.

But again, it was too late to take back what had been seen. Shuichi opened his mouth, prepared to stammer out an explanation, when--

"Didn't you, uh... have... last night, you..." His face was bright red, and his eyebrows were furrowed with thought. "I thought... you had a dick?"

"N-No? I, I don't--I've never--I wasn't born with one."

His answer only increased the tightness of Kaito's face. "But--But you--! I'm sure that--!" He pinched the bridge of his nose, face contorted with concentration. "Maybe... Gah, I dunno. I'm sure that you had one. 'Cause... 'Cause you..."

As if dragged from the depths of his subconscious by Kaito's assertion, the phantom sensation of the penis he'd always wished he'd had burned in his lower half. A flipbook animation flickered, the smudged drawings depicting a scene that he wasn't sure was rooted in fantasy or reality.

The musky smell of sweat, his face buried in a purple shoulder as his hips rolled against the thigh trapped between his own. A needy whine, a pant. His clawed fingers curling into fabric. There was an unfamiliar sensation, foreign, yet... It wasn't. He'd felt this before, not quite in this way, beneath the covers of his own bed. It was... heavier. More significant.

His lower half ground relentlessly against the firm surface beneath it, feeling the pulse of something strong drawing closer. So close, yet so far away. Frustration vibrated in his throat, and his heart beat so strongly that he could feel the blood pooling in the phallic flesh that had replaced what was once his clit.

"Shuichi?" Kaito's concern pulled him out of his head, upon which he was immediately struck with a wave of heat from the distinctly erotic images. His lips curled into his mouth, teeth finding bits of lip to pinch and tear out. His damn body was betraying him--beneath the covers, he could feel the slick wetness of arousal.

He tried to distract himself with more rational thoughts. "Um, er, well, may-maybe it was... Maybe it was something where my, my body, when I shifted, it just... Changed that too? Ahaha..."

Though he wasn't sure if that was actually the case, Kaito seemed to accept that answer. "Oh, yeah, that could be it." He scratched the back of his head, and pointedly looked elsewhere. "Well... If you, uh, need any privacy or anything, I can grab you some clothes and give you a minute."

The lack of questions as to his body's... natural state certainly wasn't unwelcome, though he knew in the near future he'd be compelled to explain further. "Yeah, um, thanks. I brought a change of clothes; it's in my bag."

He gestured to the desk it leaned against, and Kaito was quick to roll out of bed and retrieve it. Despite Shuichi's brain yelling at him, his eyes still were drawn to check the rest of Kaito's body. Clothed, thankfully, but as Kaito returned, something about the way he walked, something about the way his pajama pants folded in the front...

His face flushed, and he could only mumble out a thanks as he accepted his bag and let Kaito excuse himself. He'd meant to apologize for anything... unsavory he might've done the previous night, but he couldn't get the words out, even after he was dressed. He was too distracted, the scene from earlier only growing sharper the more times it looped.

It certainly wasn't helping his problem. At least it wasn't visible...

One awkward goodbye later, Shuichi hastily retreated back to his room. Though Kaito hadn't exactly kicked him out or anything, Shuichi knew he couldn't continue enduring whatever... pressure had built up the night before. His back found his mattress, and his hand slipped down into his boxers--which were unfortunately already damp despite the short time he'd been wearing them.

Somehow, he felt so much more sensitive than he usually did. He could chalk it up to this part having been affected by his transformation as well, but it almost certainly was compounded by having been in Kaito's presence while his body was drowning in teenage hormones, as well as whatever hormones came with his new werewolf existence. After all... he hadn't felt like this the morning after the last full moon.

His fingers found his clit, and his pulse raced as he felt just how hard it was. Just the subtle difference in length was enough to satisfy him, though his mind would wander off to his memories to truly fulfill him, even if doing so did make him feel guilty once the rush of endorphins settled down.

This was... certainly something he'd have to talk with Kaito about. But if he could put off a talk that could threaten their friendship, then... Yes, he probably would. At least for now. He wasn't the type to run away forever, but he recognized the need to collect his thoughts first, to understand the different facets of the situation before complicating their daily life with a half-formed wrench. With that resolve in place, he let himself go.

[chimchimsauce]

Sanctuary (6)

Summary: YN is a young girl, bright and ambitious, but due to her busy schedule, she’s been unable to make any real friends. When an ad for Saint Mary’s Sanctuary catches her attention, she never expected her life to be changed by a certain hybrid named Jimin.

Tags: @feed-my-geek-soul @raspberryhaterade @dinorahrodriguez @loriosborne @majestikblue @younginfluencernut-blog @jiminotopia @yady24 @amoretti-rossetti  @j-hofe7 @scared-money @alina-foxy @catwhipes @cloudyfelix @justfollowbacon @chims-kookies @hoodiebangtan @xanny91 @catarina-catycaty @lewd-lemon @yaseminflames @lulanii @jeonsdear @omgsasusakulover @let-fred-live @perfectlyfangirling @daddyjoonie @meganleafmusic

If you’d like to be added to the tag list, comment below!

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

YN ignores all of Taehyung’s calls, refusing to answer them. A part of her thinks she’s being a bit petty, but the larger part sparks in fury every time she even thinks about what happened at Saint Mary’s.

She’s only known Jimin for about a week and during that week she’s come to care for him, but his behavior was both uncalled for and frightening. The short interaction raised several red flags in her mind, causing her to want to avoid him and the Sanctuary altogether.

By Wednesday, she’s made up her mind. All the drama of Saint Mary’s isn’t worth it.

And Jimin seems to be unhealthily attached to her. Sticking around will only make it worse, right? It’ll be best just to quit cold turkey.

Determined, YN pulls out her phone and blocks both Taehyung’s and Saint Mary’s number, feeling bittersweet about it.

She hopes that nothing bad happens to Jimin because of her, but she doesn’t think Saint Mary’s is that type of place.

Another busy work week passes, keeping YN from having any thoughts of Jimin, Saint Mary’s, or Taehyung. As a matter of fact, she’s filed the entire strange encounter up to a weird but finished memory, one she’ll tell her future children about. She thinks everything is. Her blatant ignoring should have made that clear.

So why is there an all too familiar blonde headed hybrid lurking outside her door?

YN slows, trying to figure out what she should do.

On one hand, she’s never seen the wolf outside the walls of Saint Mary’s. He looks so different, the birds chirping in the air and him leaning against her wall. He almost takes her breath away, dressed in jeans, a white t-shirt, and a pair of laced-up black converse.

But on the other hand . . .

“I can smell you, you know,” he says, not glancing up even once.

“What are you doing here? How do you know where I live? It’s not okay just to show up at people’s houses, Jimin,” YN says, not moving any closer.

The wolf finally looks up at her.

“I needed to see you - to explain myself and to apologize. I was majorly out of hand,”

YN shakes her head.

“An apology doesn’t do anything. I want you to leave and never come near me again. I can’t be around someone like you,”

Jimin flinches slightly.

“Please just listen to me. Just let me explain myself. If you still want me to disappear, I’ll do it. I’ll leave you and never come near you again,” His voice trembles.

“If you’re going to talk, do it there. Don’t come any closer to me,”

“Okay,” he says, wetting his lips a bit, “I . . . well, I snuck out. Taehyung helped me. Lent me some of his clothes. I don’t like that I smell like him,”

“You couldn’t just leave? Why’d you have to sneak out?”

“You do realize that I’m a glorified pet, right YN? Nothing I’ve ever done has been because I wanted to do it. Saint Mary’s has given me the most freedom I’ve ever had, and even then I can only go to certain places at certain times. Hell, I can’t even sleep as long or as short as I’d like. We have bedtimes. I’m twenty - four. Twenty - four,”

Frustration rolls off of Jimin in waves, YN feeling pity beginning to bloom in her chest.

“But I’m not trying to be ungrateful to Saint Mary’s. The Sanctuary is a wonderful place with kind people, the kindest I’ve ever known . . . but I’m there for a reason. Every hybrid is . . .”

He seems to struggle with his next words.

“When I was born, I was taken from my mother almost immediately. Hybrids may not be human, but the bond we form between those we love is just as strong, if not stronger. So, to prevent problems in the future, children are taken away. We stay with a human nanny until we mature. I was eight years old when I left mine, a cold woman who never once said or did a kind thing to or for me. After that. we’re supposed to go to school. We don’t learn what human did. I couldn’t even read. Instead, hybrids get behavioral training until they can be sold to the highest bidder,”

“I thought you couldn’t be adopted until you turned twenty - one?”

He just laughs.

“As if the breeders cared about that little law. But no one really goes to their masters until fourteen or so. But not me. I never went to the behavioral school. At eight, one of the biggest politicians bought me for his daughter, who was ten at the time. It started off pretty great. The politician and his wife were both major assholes, but the girl was an angel. Truly. She taught me things, treated me like a friend instead of a pet. But . . .”

Jimin pauses abruptly, hands clenching and unclenching repeatedly.

“But she began to change at sixteen. At first, it was small changes, her no longer sneaking me dessert from the kitchen. But it spiraled. By the time she turned eighteen, she wouldn't even look at me anymore. Pretended I didn’t exist. Would brush past me, act like she couldn’t even see me. I started acting out, misbehaving and getting in trouble, enduring horrible punishments from her family all to regain her attention. I even ran away one day but came back just six hours and YN . . .”

Indescribable emotion clogs up his throat.

“There was another hybrid. I wasn’t even gone a whole day and they had adopted a new hybrid, a bunny. Her face was all lit up and happy. All I could do was watch from outside the windows as they all cooed and fawned over him. I knew it was over for me. They’d thrown the few things I owned out all over the front lawn, all of it ruined, Shredded, burned, soaked . . .”

He trembles, wrapping his arms around himself.

Unintentionally, YN had taken steps toward him, getting close enough to see the fresh set of tears gathered in his eyes. Jimin wipes them away angrily.

“I had nowhere to go. No clothes, no food, no money. You’ve got to understand, YN. She was my world. My entire universe. The only thing I had ever known. And it was all taken away from me. I was thrown away like trash,”

YN feels her heart shatter.

“I found out later that it was because she’d been ashamed that I’m a wolf. All of her friends had cute hybrids. Bunnies and kitties and hamsters. Docile creatures. She began to resent what I was,” Jimin says bitterly.

“The next years were the worst of my life. Shortly after I’d been abandoned, desperate, I signed a contract with an underground club. A strip joint for people too poor to afford a hybrid of their own. I did what I had to do. At first, it wasn’t so bad. I just bussed tables, cleaned up after shows. Took the hits when someone got too drunk and angry. But at the end of the day, I had food, even if it was always scraps from the day’s buffet, stale and cold. At least I had a place to sleep, even if I had to sleep with one eye open. I could never go anywhere, do anything. I spent two years there until the owner wanted to add me to the show. Life had taken everything from me. My family, my home, my independence. The only thing I had left was myself. But if I stayed, if I did what they wanted me to, I would have nothing. Be nothing. So I ran. Lived in the streets and picked up odd jobs when I could. I didn’t have an identity, so I never had the chance to do anything or make anything of myself. Hybrids aren’t people. Human enough to be used to feed someone’s desires, but not human enough to have a life in anything other than subservience. That’s what I did for the next five years. Took jobs from people who didn’t ask questions. Made enough to buy enough food to keep living and slept in whatever abandoned building I could find. This year, I managed to find a stable job working at a gas station. But one day, some teenagers thought it would be fun to break-in to rob the place,”

His eyes are hard.

“Hybrid or not, I can’t do anything against a crowd or eight people armed with blunt objects. So when they ran away because sirens could be heard in the air, I lay there, preparing to bleed out,”

Jimin looks up into the sky.

“I thought, ‘This is it. This is how I die. Live a pathetic life, die a pathetic death.’. But apparently, one of the EMTs figured out I was a hybrid when she took my vitals and I got courted off to Saint Mary’s,”

“And then,” he begins, looking at me like I held all the secrets to the universe, “I met you. You, who somehow smelled like home. Not a physical place, but the comfort and familiarity of home. And I just had to see you again. Meet you again. And when I did, you weren’t afraid of me. You didn’t treat me like the dirt under your shoes. You joked and laughed and cared. And I had to see you again and again and again. Because you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,”

He’s crying now, they both are.

“And I’m sorry how I acted. I never meant to yell at you or make you feel bad. You didn’t do anything wrong. I just -,” his voice cracks into an ugly sob, “I understand if you don’t want anything to do with me. I wouldn’t either -”

The hybrid doesn’t get to utter another word before a pair of arms are wrapped around him like a vice. Instantly, his nostrils are flooded with her scent, Jimin burying his face in her neck.

Chapter 7

[yoongi-sugaglider]

Somebody Save Me

This case might just be the death of a young detective. Sleepless nights and stress filled days haunt the young detective Kim Taehyung but he’s determined to find her. Even if it’s the last thing he may do…

Warnings:angst, mentions of torture, mentions of murder, strong language, detective au

Word count:1677

A/n:This one runs a bit long my apologies. Buuutttt....hopefully ya’ll enjoy it~Remember,feedback is always welcome and appreciated!If you like it please feel free to comment, reblog, give it a heart even~Thanks so mouch and enjoy!

<<Part One----Part 3>>

Chapter 2:Dark Places

How long have I been down here...months...weeks? The first ray of light in what I assume to be the morning always signals a meal and some sort of...flavorless liquid. It's the only meal I get and so, despite the unappealing tastelessness of it all, I wolf it down. The fluid I try to make last as long as possible, a mistake I'd made often in the first few days here. Chugging it down was never a good idea as I wouldn't be getting more until the next ray of light shines again.

It goes on like that, day in and day out the same routine. At first, I'd fought, screaming and crying and begging until my throat was raw and my fists bled from beating on the walls and what I assumed was the door. But quite soon I'd realized it wasn't getting me anywhere. The next meal came with a container of what I could only assume was antibiotic ointment and some rough cotton bandages. So..whoever held me didn't want me hurt.

After a while, I got up and explored my cell. Sixteen steps from the center of the room was the panel that held the ray of light. Eight steps from the center of the room to either side lead to walls of cobbled stone that stretched up farther than I could reach. There was a hole in one corner that led straight down. This was what I assumed was my bathroom. Of course, it was the only opening in the room so I just used it as I saw fit. No more than six inches around, it didn't afford me much but it went so far down into the ground that there wasn't a smell.I was left in there with the clothes I'd been abducted in and a thin blanket. It had a rough cotton feel to it, similar to the bandages I'd been given but it sort of kept me warm so...I suppose I couldn't complain much.

After exploring and realizing I might just be there for a while I became complacent. Sitting in the corner I hardly moved unless the little ray of light showed, signaling my meal for the day. But the inactivity began to wear on my mind. And that's when the hallucinations started.

Visions of the outside world. Memories of my parents, long dead now considering how long I'd been there, playing like a movie on the dark walls around me. I'd imagine what my friends were doing, going about their daily lives as if I hadn't been kidnapped and taken to this place. Did anyone know I was missing? Would anyone even be looking for me? All these thoughts and more haunted and tortured me until they too came to an end and I was left alone in the silence.

And here I sit, weak from malnutrition and head swimming slightly from dehydration. I close my eyes and listen to the sounds around me. It's amazing, what losing your sight can do to your hearing. I can hear the sharp skitter of bugs crawling along the walls. The far-off chirp of crickets, possibly signaling that it's night time. And then I hear them.

Footsteps, far to early to signal a meal. Heavier than the ones I'm used to hearing. Quickly I scramble away from where I know the source of light to be, curling as far into myself as possible in the corner opposite the toilet hole. And I wait, listening as the footsteps grow closer before stopping right in front of my makeshift cell. I struggle desperately to control my breathing, knowing that panic will only cloud my head and make the situation worse.

I hear the jingle of metal on metal, what I can only assume to be keys, and a rattle and scraping of a key in a hole before the door before me creaks open, going from a thin sliver of light to a sudden explosion, overloading my senses and causing me to scream hoarsely and curl into a defensive.

"Shut up!" A course and intensely deep voice shouts at me and my screams recede into a pathetic whimper. Suddenly rough hands grab at me, wrenching me up off the floor and I yelp out in pain, already feeling the bruises forming on my arms from the overly large hands that are clamped down tight and dragging me out of the cell.

"No! Please! You don't have to do this!" I plead. My eyes open wide, wildly scanning my surroundings in an attempt to figure out where I am. But all I see the bright light and a man dragging me along a rock-walled corridor. His back is thick and corded with muscles, hair dirty and dark, just brushing his shoulders, and the hand gripping my arm was think and beefy with knuckles covered in hair. This wasn't someone to be trifled with.

I yelp in pain when he yanks on my arm once again, dragging me roughly up a set of stairs and along a darker corridor. The lack of light is a welcome relief for my sensitive eyes. But the relief is short-lived when he pulls up short, standing just before a room that upon first glance fills me with terror beyond anything I've ever felt. Deep down I know....looking around at the various carts filled with all manner of torture devices and the large table set in the middle of the room, similar to one that you'd see at an obgyn's office but fitted with thick metal chains and cuffs, that what I'm about to endure is the worst pain a human can be put through. My first thought is to scream, to run, to fight. But instead...I faint.

***

"Alright hyung, what do we know about these places?" Taehyung sat on the leather sofa, coke can in one hand as he watched Namjoon pace the length of the office floor with his hands clasped behind his back.

Namjoon's eyes stayed on his feet as he paced, chewing on the inside of his cheek to the point that his dimples became visible. His eyebrows scrunched together as he thought, connecting dots and stringing together theories before he spoke so that everything came out coherently."Most of the locations are empty warehouses or plots of empty land that either haven't been developed or were sites of former homes.I looked into the plots that had houses on them at one point or another and I did notice a pattern with them though it really didn't get me anywhere. They all had basements or small cellars of some sort." He sighed, running a hand through the dark hair that covered his forehead, fluffing it a bit before smoothing it back down.

"Was there anything connecting any of these houses?"Tae asked, leaning forward with his forearms resting on his knees.He took a quick sip of his coke but frowned when Namjoon shook his head.

"Honestly I haven't had a chance to check any of them out. As of right now, the only real thing connecting them is the fact that they are all empty and that the tip leading to them came from random payphones throughout the city." Namjoon paused in his pacing to stand in front of the map, his eyes scanning it relentlessly as if it could reveal the secrets of the case to him.

Tae stood, crushing the now empty soda can in his fist and tossing it in the trash beside the sofa before crossing the room to stand beside his partner."Is there anything interesting about any of the warehouses?"

Namjoon pointed towards a few that landed on the outside of the spiraling circle of red push pins. “These outer ones were former businesses. Nothing major there really. I do know that the ones closer to the inner city have all had drug busts done inside them at one time or another, but it’s doubtful that any of that is really related to the case.

Tae stood, crushing the now empty soda can in his fist and tossing it in the trash beside the sofa before crossing the room to stand beside his partner.”Is there anything interesting about any of the warehouses?”Namjoon pointed towards a few that landed on the outside of the spiraling circle of red push pins.

“These outer ones were former businesses. Nothing major there really. I do know that the ones closer to the inner city have all had drug busts done inside them at one time or another, but it’s doubtful that any of that is really related to the case. These though…” Namjoon grabbed a few of the previously discarded yellow pins and pushed them into the map beside three of the warehouses.”These were owned by a subsidiary of Wungshi inc.”

“Why does that sound familiar?”Taehyung squinted at the map a moment before it dawned on him. “Oh shit…”He bolted into his office, grabbing the case file off of the desk and ruffling through it.Namjoon followed close behind, a frown on his face and a knowing look in his eyes as he watched his partner connect the dots.

“Wungshi...Wungshi…”Taehyung’d found a list of corporations and small businesses that had been used as shell corporations by Y/n’s father’s business. His finger trailed down the list before stopping near the bottom, right on top of a single name.”Those warehouses were connected to Tapered Finances...but what was her father’s business doing with warehouses? They were glorified accountants?” Taehyung looked up at Namjoon who nodded at Tae’s question.

“That’s what I’d like to know. Considering he was in charge of finance and all three of them were listed as being owned by a certain Jeon Jungkook….”Namjoon paused as he waited for the revelation to click.

Taehyung’s mouth dropped quickly and his eyes almost bugged out of his skull. “Wait...wait woah wait…” Taehyung took a step back from his desk. “The hell is Mr. y/ln’s secretary doing owning warehouses?”

Namjoon grabbed Taehyung’s coat which was hung by the door to his office and tossed it across the room to him. “That’s what we’re going to find out my friend.”

[kumulonimbus]

Gasps / Blue (Small fascinations)

So, I wanted to write a small WidowHanzo fic for Valentine’s day this year but then I changed my mind because I don’t really see these two celebrating love, you know... However, I still liked the idea of Hanzo and Widow meeting once a year, like a not-Valentine’s day kinda thing. Fic is under the cut, or you can also read it here.

They meet once a year. Or maybe more than just once, ever the unsung quip between two snipers soaring from rooftop to rooftop, perched legs around the corners and hands pressed hard against their weapons - but nothing more. They see each other rather frequently these days, though they only meet once a year. It’s the healthy competition, they know, the sort of healthy rivalry that always ends at somebody else’s funeral. Irony has become their clothes - it wraps up around them; sarcasm is their favorite type of underwear and she laughs, and he regrets it and she says: “One day your heart shall just break, Shimada.”

They meet once a year, or more than once - but only once it actually counts. The rest of the times, she says the words they want to hear her say even when she knows he’ll just say no like he always does. Still, she does not judge him for she knows his heart shall break in two one of these days. She doesn’t judge him, ever. Moral tribulations are way above her payroll anyways.

They only meet once a year because they have divided her memory and now there are things that she just can’t see. She lives in breathy gaps of fragments, speaks in spite of the echo in her ears - her tongue is a native of a land she does no longer possess. Now neither she nor he can’t quite remember how it all started or when or where or why - but they know they meet once a year. Once a year, a day off. Once a year they seek what they lack: company - but they seek a small dose of it, the only dose they can tolerate, the only dose they know they deserve. A minimum companion, a slap in the face of love, just an equally bewildering someone to remind him that, one day, his heart shall break in two.

Intimacy does not exist between them. There was a time when he tried, but the woman stopped him before he could even manifest the shadow of an intention. She knows that’s the limit for the woman she is now, that bitch is surely gonna die the most gruesome type of death and when mercy refuses to answer her call she’ll know: she’ll be ready to go alone. Her lack of a physical kind of love is her own atonement - for all that she’s done and for all that she shall do before her time is up.

Her emotions have been demoted to the field of basic deductions - she understands that a woman like her does not deserve any good things to come her way. He’s no good news. They both know he’s not a good thing coming her way. A man with a history as dark as hers is no good news, the flask of sake perpetually resting by his waist has become his only friend. Nothing good can come from him - still, they meet once a year. Once. Just once. In spite of themselves.

At least she likes being with him. Or, at least, she does not dislike his presence even if more than once she finds herself on the verge of pleading the man to cut the crap and just join Talon - but then she reconsiders, and realizes that getting to see the archer every single day could be the worst thing that could ever happen to them. So every time he denies their wish she smiles her little sighs of cheap satisfaction, knowing that deep down her own wishes have prevailed once more. At least that part of herself remains under her domain. That’s how it works for them, that’s what she demands from him and vice-versa: a small dose of company. The only tolerable dose.

What she likes the most about his company is not him, jealousy incarnate towards the one she is no longer. It’s these whimsical imitations to a feeling she once experienced, now removed from its context and forced to exist as a deductible abstraction of a nonexistent emotion, short-lived like a mouthful of air, persistent like the sound she makes every time she gasps and clings to nothing and everything at the same time. The echo lingers around her, reverberates across time and space - the voice suggests, and the echo obliges but she can only stand motionless in between. Who knows what he wants or what he needs - more often than not she gets the idea that her mere presence is more than enough for him. He has no ambitions - not earthy ones at least. She’s one of them. Once a year, she becomes one of his meaningless wishes.

They meet once a year only to remind themselves that what they did was wrong. That even if years have now stacked up upon their dresses their sins still endure, unwavering. They look at each other as if trying to find that missing fire only to remind themselves that pleasure lies unconscious in the dungeons they themselves created, their dignified cages where most liberties don’t even call them by their names anymore. Yet something still stirs inside - the memorization of a long-lost feeling, perhaps, or the chance of a glorified approximation to love. But instead of wasting her time trying to rekindle those old, humid ashes, the woman prefers to adapt to this new convalescence, as his presence begins to sprinkle sugar in her eyes for her skin to try to imitate the lukewarm mementos of an existence now dispossessed of all humanity. Her mind puts back together all those broken pieces of memories that still belong to her and her alone yet the images, shy in their compromised integrity, cannot bring back the one that is no more so her mind wanders adrift, caught in the middle of interrupted sensations, like warm gasps of air that can only create a tourbillion of shivering goosebumps across her nightly skin – it’s small, like a detail or a whimsical fixation, it’s a door that leads nowhere but then she knows it’s not the door, it’s its hinges. It’s a symphony of simple tribulations, a controlled repertoire of small fascinations, like the sound of the first button as it gets undone. Or like the unpredictable moment of complete stillness while a zipper makes a southern slide. All he has to give are small depictions of a very intricate intellectual showdown where his memories and her memories coalesce into a single fictitious past they never got to share – but the eclipse of recollections is as demanding as it is positively entertaining, like a never-ending chess game where they are supposed to save the other’s kings and queens, relegating all attacks to a distant moment that never comes. It’s more powerful than any aphrodisiac, more inciting than physical contact but beyond all this, they know fear lies ungraceful – so they live in and for the certainty of details, the unpredictable reality seems too far-fetched now.

Some dreams are worth keeping, they know.

Once a year they meet and do what they do, pretending to be some other woman and some other man only to realize that they are who they are. She uses makeup and covers up the blue with yet more artificiality. It’s not easy being blue in the streets of diversity where humans and omnics walk hand in hand. It’s not easy being blue without becoming melancholy or loneliness incarnate in a city full of people that don’t really know how to be alone. Once a year she doesn’t want to be blue. They meet once a year, and today he kisses her red lips as if trying to win the fight against her cold mouth – he says her colors are misleading, says her hues do not make any sense anymore and even though she can’t exactly feel, a part of her knows that if he keeps doing these things he does, sooner or later he’s going to try to wake up something inside, something that’s not particularly asleep, something long gone - something dead. She wants to yell at him to just stop doing what he does, she wants to make him see that it makes him both naïve and heartless at the same damn time – but she doesn’t, even if she knows about the long hours of torture that wait for her every time he tries to wake up something in her, the cage and the blindfold, the coldness and the steel. He surrounds her with his arms and says that she shouldn’t be afraid of fear, she should know a woman like her is not entitled to that emotion – but the fact that he even dares to toy with such a notion is even scarier than the notion itself.

The man brushes his hands lightly across her cheeks and the makeup she’s wearing impregnates his fingertips. He looks at them, then back at her as if clouds have rolled by only to reveal the blue skies hiding behind them. But then he smiles bitterly and mumbles to himself and his fingers return to her face, trying to fix her damaged landscape. Then he asks her why she stays with Talon, he says loyalty is not entirely an emotion but still, he says he just doesn’t understand. He says fear and loneliness might open up the gates for her to feel again and the woman smiles politely at him but she doesn’t say anything because she knows it’s not the door, it’s its hinges; she knows it’s not the body, it’s the sound of a button getting undone, it’s the slight pressure on one’s pelvis as a zipper slides down, it’s the seconds that follow that moment - one, two, a lifetime.

They meet once a year, but never on Valentine’s day – how can they celebrate something they murdered? But now that winter is almost gone, the time for paper hearts seems weaker somehow. “One day your heart shall just break, Shimada,” she says, and he regrets it, and she smiles, and he loves it. The irony has stolen all their clothes.

[back-to-drawing-board]

Red Threads and Fraying Dreams

wendigoruble

Mark is very confused at what they're saying. He came here for school studies. And he has to question himself. Is this just somewhere unknown to the world? Or is he somehow on another planet now? But how would that even happen... Jack is very evasive in his answers.

themarginalthinker

Jack then proceeded to kinda ignore any asking about where they were, and lead Mark out into the open with other people milling about. In basically nothing but a glorified loincloth  and some leather boots. Luckily, the village isn't terribly centralized, so while there's people, there's not a whole lot of them  in one place to see him. At least.....there wouldn't be if word hadn't gotten around about the demon-possessed man from Outside.

wendigoruble

A few of the people look at Mark with either fear or curiosity. A few of them whisper or one another. Mark just feels so much more embarrassed at the fact that he's pretty much naked in front of them still. Jack is going on about their customs and traditions they carry. They seem to be leaving the central village and nearing a stream. It's crystal clear, flowing slow with fish just moving about even in the shadows of their presence. "We are a bountiful people.." Mark had tuned back in to what Jack had been saying, "The demon to hold your tongue has left, physical cleansing is need now. You have endured a lot."

themarginalthinker

Mark thinks he must be dreaming. He's so sure of it,how his brain seems to be moving in half-time with what this man is saying, how the warmth of the midday sun is dappling almost hypnotically through the leaves of the canopy above and glittering on the water (though...perhaps that's just the leftover weakness from his illness..) In any case, Mark takes one look at the water, at the hand offered to him by the gentle healer who's already in the water, and then over downstream to - oh god, oh Jesus - a group of people who are wearing even less then he is at the moment, children and their parents, couples and elders...bathing. They're scattered about, clearly at ease in their home. He looks back down at the hand. Then at Jack's face. He smiles what Mark's sure he thinks is in reassurance. "The water will drive out any remnants of the dark ones' presence, and reinvigorate your body. You've nothing to fear here."

wendigoruble

Mark is still hesitant bit he takes the man by the hand and steps down into the water. The surface was cool only to transfer into a comfortable warmth. It really did feel so soothing. Closing his eyes a moment he reopens them. He catches the sight of the healer placing his own clothing onto the bank.. Mark wasn't entirely sure if he should take off what little he had on still. The fish are swimming about. They seemed so at ease even with humans wading in their territory. Jack moves into deeper waters and begins to clean himself from remaining face paint, or the brushed berries seeming to have a gained his hands. The others down stream passed a glance but no more than that. A few go up to the banks, content with watching their children play. It's one of the first times Mark takes note of their surroundings. Beautiful flowers he'd never seen in all of his years of study, trees twisting about in ways never thought possible.. True beauty

themarginalthinker

Mark is drawn back to the moment as something wet and soft is pressed to his arm, and he jerks back a little at the unexpected contact. Jack looks apologetic at the startle, but Mark can see it's just a cloth, offered to help him wash away his own markings, though these were more of the sweat and dirt variety then the elegant, twisting markings Jack had been adorned with. Mark doesn't remove his coverings - he's really not comfortable with that yet, and...does't really plan to get there, if he is honest - but Jack seems to understand this at least and doesn't question Mark's choice, what must seem strange to him. He goes back to running hands through his striking lime hair, and humming a little under his breath. "So. Uh.." Mark starts, and tries not to shy away as those piercing eyes focus on him, no mater how open and friendly. Crap...he'd stared talking without much direction, sort of just wanting to hear the words aloud. It made everything...more real? Maybe if he could convince himself it was too real, he'd wake up... "How old are you?" Mark found himself asking, and then chiding himself for asking such a stupid question. Did it matter? He had to figure the really important shit out! But it fell off his tongue easily enough...and it wasn't like Jack hadbeen very forthcoming about much else that Mark had  asked about this place in general.

wendigoruble

Jack opens his mouth slightly but takes a moment to speak. He's ran the cloth over Marks shoulders and down his back carefully. It was like he was trying to clean him in a specific way. "It is hard to say...You see, so many lives I've lived. It could be said I am more than the illusion of time. This body I have found myself in now," Jack pauses to splash a bit of water up over Marks back, "It's age is young though in maturity." Well that didn't answer much, only confused him further. Well..Judging by his looks he'd say Jack is around his mid-20s. That seems... Awfully young for a.. Witch doctor? In tribes he's studied before they're usually an elder who does this job. Interesting. "Well...I'm uh, I'm.. 28 years old." Mark soet of mumbles. His words almost felt so out of place. The way Jack spoke so long winded and here he was asking silly things with short answers,

themarginalthinker

But Jack seems impervious to his inner dialogue  of shame and embarrassment, simply nodding with him, though going quiet again, the conversation ended there. Mark feels the knot of anxiety tighten a little in his stomach - though, maybe that's hunger? God, he's so confused right now - and looks away from the other. He admits, he is very curious about the other people about, but even catching a glimpse of them out of the corner of his eye - seeing the families and peers interacting in their clearly insular groups - felt weird. Not right to stare, even with all his questions that could be answered through observation. So he turns to the world around him, and begins paying attention to more then the surface details, trying to let his mind slip from the way another's hands pour methodically over his body. The trees in the woods around him are...fucking massive. He of course doesn't recognize the breed, only that they're some kind of hardwood, with thin leaves that are jewel green-blue; the crowns a maze of intertwined bows and limbs large enough Mark thinks he'd be able to walk on comfortably. The rest of the undergrowth is interesting as well. If one weren't paying attention, they'd miss the fact that the bushes and vines and flowers aren't like anything Mark's ever seen, as innocuous as it may appear at first glance. Strange bird calls echo about, weaving into the sigh of a breeze through the trees, insects Mark might call bees but can't quite buzz about, ignoring the humans, but feasting on the nectar in the flowers. Mark's head spins a little, the colors just this side of too bright all of a sudden, and the cool-warm water shifting around his waist a bit too much. He feels a strong hand on his shoulder, and another on his hip. "Are you feeling well? Do you wish to rest some more?" Jack asked. What, is is so obvious,Mark thinks.

wendigoruble

Mark stifles nothing more then a soft, "Mmm." Before Jack helps him closer to the bank. Getting him up onto the land he allows Mark to lay back in the grass. The grass that felt soft as a bed of feathers. Tickling his skin in the most comforting of ways. Jack gets his own clothes back on and comes up beside Mark. He seemed comfortable there in the grass. Giving his jet black hair a gentle rub he heads back to the center of the village to get some healing herbs and fruits. It felt like hours to mark but it must've only been about ten minutes. He was awake but.. Not awake. An odd middle. He could hear the splashing and laughing of the others in the water but couldn't really bring himself to move. The bird calls drift around him, in and put of his mind and it really feels like he's in some sort of lucid dream.. But he'd be awake by now, right? If this was all a dream how could it feel so real, how could his mind even think of such a place as this? There's movement to his side and Jack has crouched down beside him. Pulling a pack to his front he takes out a bowl and a blunt object. Placing berries into the bowl he me begins to mash them into a fine paste. Adding a bit of the fresh water he places a hand under Mark’s head, "You must be very hungry. You have not eaten in two sunsets."

themarginalthinker

Mark's first thought isn't that he's all that hungry, seeing the bright insides of the unknown fruit would intimidate anyone, he supposes, but wrapped in the blanket of this waking dream, drifting a little farther with each movement, he can feel himself nod, and Jack places the bowl to his lips. A  part of himself - jeez, how many of those are there, scattered and fractured - realizes how ridiculous this dream surely is. A place outside of Earth that's parallel to the biblical garden of Eden being possessed by supposed demons and healed by a man possibly younger then he with unknown berry mash while in the midst of a people who seem about as connected to the ideals of the modern world as a horse connects to Xbox live...and just letting it happen. ...Alright, so his mind is definitely getting away from him, hazy in the sun and comforting earth, though Jack doesn't seem to notice, or mind if he does. He carefully cradles Mark's head, like he was a child, and pours the mash past his lips by mouthfuls. It's...good? Mark admits, the berries aren't as sweet as he guesses he'd expected they might be. More...nutty, perhaps. And surely, this little bit of food won't do much for him when Jack had said he hadn't eaten in days  - but. Mark finds that halfway through the bowl, his stomach is already comfortable enough, and after another quarter, he's raising an uncertain hand to grip Jack's wrist and pull the bowl away.

wendigoruble

Jack smiled Ina sort of fond way as he lowers the bowl away from Marks lips,"It is a very special berry, used for many healing properties. Used for those who go on long spirit journeys.." He gives Marks shoulder a gentle comforting rub,"It allows the body to slowly catch up after the exhaustion." Mark licks his lips, allowing his eyes to open just a bit further since he'd sort of been going half lidded. Whatever that berry was it seemed to slowly but surely be working. That dizzy feeling was leaving but the fuzzy dream-like feeling was still there. He rubs his head. And tries not to really dwell on this feeling. If this is indeed just a dream it mind not be so bad to explore it. "What.. What is this place called?" He finds himself asking without much forethought to the question. For all he knows the shamen would give a simialr answer as he did with his age. "Many names own the land itself.. My people name it as Whispering Trees." He sets the bowl down in the grass and reaches back into his pack. He has another odd looking berry. Is it a berry? It almost looks like an oval-like cheery tomato. But Jack begins to use it on himself in renewing his tattoos. It goes on his skin as easily as a marker does to paper. "What about.. Your markings?"

themarginalthinker

Mark's...not sure what changes about Jack all of a sudden, or that in literally any other circumstances then this one where the world is just slightly too much, but..he does. Change, that is. Something about his face - or maybe his eyes. Mark can't tell...but he's not...frightened? He thinks maybe he ought to be.. but it suddenly feels like looking into a very deep pit but from behind bulletproof glass. Or looking up at the darkness that is unfathomable distances between stars from the warmth of your bedroom. Safe..but in sublime  wonder. "They are the stories. Lives. A hundred minds and a thousand memories," Jack murmurs as both their eyes trace the dancing finger, carving out incomprehensible lines along pale skin in blood-like red.   He looks up again at Mark, and for whatever reason, the lost man...doesn't look away. And it's broken. The moment, the change in Jack, is gone again. His hands stop moving - at least, to write his  mind into his skin in runes and vein-like knotwork - and discards the crushed pulp of the dyepod. "You may see others with similar markings around. They tell of similar things. Stories, and messages. Purpose. You may ask them about it, but I do tell you this," Jack says, and  Mark's attention is caught as the gentle man raises a hand in warning. "The marks are earned. And some...may not feel the tale is right to be told in word or song. Only in what can be seen." Mark sucks in a little breath at that, going a little still. Jack's voice is still  calm, but it feels now like he's being warned by a teacher to stop doing something he knows he oughtn't be. But then the green haired man smiles, gain, apologetic. "I tell you this not to make you wary - there are none who would do another harm here, unthinkable. But...I sense you would be saddened if you hurt another, but didn't realize it."

wendigoruble

Mark gives a little nod. Hurting someone by accident wouldn't be good, especially in this place and the fact that Jack did say no one hurts one another here. He looks back down to the tracings  along his skin. Curving all around and seeming to have central points where everything connects in one way or another. Like lives in a single line.. And it clicks - sort of. His gaze shifts back to glance out at he others. The older ones, they all seem to have marks about their bodies. All different, just like a tigers stripes. Looking simialr but drastically various among them. Jack said he'd lived many lives and so maybe that's what these marks mean. Going through so any life times and ending up here.. But that'd be crazy.. He wanted to ask more but he didn't want to offend Jack, or start something with these peaceful people. "They're beautiful though-" Mark starts,"They look like they take a lot of concentration to place." He was really trying to compliment. The shaman looks over the curves and twists of his tattoos, "Yes. These are very special. Markings thick are very memorable, or perhaps tragic. Thin lines are good memories, but faded." He motions to the circles in a few places on his own arms, "These...Only some of my fullest lives." These marks were definitely specific to the person now, Mark could tell. There were a good deal of thicker lines leading down to Jacks wrists and thinner as they grow up towards his shoulder. Like the start and stop of time. Interesting. With another few glances he makes the realization Jack seems to be the one with the most tattoos in the group... Perhaps that's why this young man holds such a high position. "Will I ever.. Earn marks like that?" He was a lot more curious now. Did he himself have a past life- or lives for that matter, that he could tap into? Or was this the start of a new life and experience would be earned through this and into the next?

[paceprompting]

Okay, you know what, I’m just gonna write this because it’s been in my brain nonstop for two weeks and it’s not going away any time soon.

Imagine if, during a mission, after Bucky is back and he’s well enough to at least sniper on some missions, blah blah, details, details...he sees Steve go down after taking a blast to the head. Not lethal, but enough to knock him out.

As fast as he can, Bucky is racing down to get to Steve, but doesn’t manage to get there before some goon is injecting Steve’s arm with a strange substance. Bucky throws the goon in the trees and tried to go to Steve, but he’s forced to take cover when a Hydra sniper starts firing at him, only hoping that he doesn’t target Steve. 

After a moment, the shooting stops and Bucky hears over the comms that Barton managed to take the sniper out, and he rushes to get Steve. As soon as he steps out into the open, something sharp clips the side of his neck and he hears Barton cursing, “What the fuck, I got him.” But it doesn’t matter because Bucky’s vision is already fuzzy and he can’t stand. 

He crumbles beside Steve. 

They both wake up an indeterminable amount of time later, to the frightened gazes of their friends, but something isn’t right. Neither of them recognize any of their friends, even threatening to call the police if they wouldn't leave the alone. Steve, strangely not Bucky, starts to get violent, until JARVIS chimes in and Steve proceeds to freak out, because “what the hell was that”, and when JARVIS talks again to try and calm Steve down, Steve falls to floor, clutching his head. When the team goes to check on Bucky, he’s in a similar state and Tony decides to sedate the both of them. 

Some through testing later, Tony’s determined that both Steve and Bucky think it’s 1939, that Steve isn’t Captain America, Bucky isn’t the Winter Soldier, and they both have painful breakdowns every time they encounter something modern or their brains try to process that Steve isn’t small and sickly anymore or that Bucky doesn’t just work at the docks. 

For their own safety, the Avengers decide not to try and force Steve and Bucky to remember anything past 1939. Tony keeps them sedated for a few days while he builds a replica of their apartment in Brooklyn, fit with cameras to observe them, and chips to implant in their necks that tap into their memories and allow Tony to only let them see up to the point they can currently remember.

Basically, Bucky won’t see Captain America, he'll see the small, pre-serum Steve and Steve will see pre-serum Bucky without a metal arm. Both men get haircuts, especially Bucky, and Natasha rounds up some clothes that match the time period. 

Once everything is set up, everyone crosses their fingers as Tony lets Steve and Bucky sleep off the last of the sedation and wake up in 1939. Thankfully, Steve and Bucky’s minds seem to accept their surroundings and they go about their day as if it were 1939. Tony or someone keeps careful watch, just in case things take a turn for the worse. 

Strangely, the only weird thing that happens is Steve and Bucky’s relationship. Or lack thereof. The Avengers are so used to the in-love couple, that watching Steve and Bucky awkwardly dance around each other is bizarre. Bucky still blatantly stares at Steve, but he’ s careful to look busy when Steve starts to pay attention to him, and Steve keeps side-glancing at Bucky when he thinks he can get away with it. 

The Avengers can’t get enough, and as much as Sam torments them about, he can’t stop watching the strangeness either, especially not after they start bringing in snacks and popcorn during shifts. 

They also see the Steve and Bucky from before Captain America and the Winter Soldier. 

Steve draws almost every day, and listens to radio shows (recordings Tony had bought online) every morning, and Bucky talks almost nonstop, teasing Steve to no end and drawling with his sweet words and charm that the team had only heard about. Bucky cooks breakfast for Steve, leaving it for him because most often, Steve slept in late. They learned the difference between Steve’s stern Bucky, and his angry James Buchanan Barnes when Bucky would actually piss him off.  

They saw Steve at his worst. With both of them still thinking Steve had his old health problems, Tony thought it was too risky to keep those memories stuffed down. Even though in real life, Steve’s body was in perfect health, his mind still made him endure asthma attacks and near heart stoppages. 

Before Tony finally figured out the ins and outs of whatever the two of them were injected with, Steve had technically nearly died about four times. 

When Tony also created an antidote, more dilemmas occurred. With Steve and Bucky no longer stuck in the past, how exactly was the team supposed to pull them back into the future without breaking them. 

And could they erase Bucky’s Winter Soldier conditioning?

Sadly, Tony, Bruce and Vision deducted that the safest thing was to have Steve and Bucky relive everything exactly the way it had happened. 

So, a month in a day’s time frame. 1939 quickly became 1940. About July of that year, July 4th to be exact, Steve’s birthday, Bucky kissed Steve, what the team realized to be, for the first time. They also realized how much of a romantic Bucky truly was, because in Steve and Bucky’s memories, fireworks were going off in the distance just as they kissed.

The team nearly experience Steve and Bucky‘s first time, but ducked out of the room as Bucky went to suck Steve off in the kitchen. They did catch the only other instance in which Steve would call Bucky “James” but they would rather forget that one. 

1940 turns into 1941, then ‘42, and ‘43, then ‘44 and ‘45. 

Steve and Bucky have the biggest fight of their relationship when Steve learns Bucky is shipping out and hadn’t even told Steve he’d joined up. It becomes a matter of pride for both of them, and it doesn’t end on good terms. 

Bucky leaves, his and Steve’s relationship hanging by a thread. He still kisses Steve on the forehead goodbye, but Steve is still asleep in bed when he does it and Steve is so angry when he wakes up to find Bucky gone. 

Steve becomes Captain America and relives the shame of being a glorified showgirl before he learns about Bucky being taken prisoner. 

As things start to heat up with Steve and Bucky’s memories, Tony has them half-conscious for memories like Steve fighting his way through a Hydra base camp to find Bucky, so that they’re experiencing the memories, but not reenacting them.

Steve and Bucky are fully conscious for their reunion in the military camp tent, where part of Tony’s chip for Bucky can be deactivated and Bucky can see Steve as Captain America. Steve and Bucky are awkward again, like before in 1939, but neither of them wants things to stay as they were when Bucky had been so close to dying. 

They create a makeshift bed on the floor of the tent, because they can’t both fit on the little cots, and sleep by each other’s side for the night, just holding each other.

Then Bucky dies. 

The night on the train passes and Tony and others remove Bucky to another room to begin reliving the horror of the Winter Soldier in a safe environment.

Steve is also taken to a safe room, where he breaks down. He collapses to the floor, tearing pouring down his face and sobs racking his body. For once as Captain America, Steve can’t catch his breath. 

Steve frantically tries to pull it together by himself for an hour and a half before the chip takes him to the airplane and he’s become Captain America again, taking the plane down into the Artic.

Tony takes down a note to have someone, maybe even Bucky, talk with Steve about Bucky’s death in 1945. 

From that point on, everyone thinks it best to let Steve and Bucky relive the rest of their memories to present day alone, if not fully asleep as well. Tony sets JARVIS on sentry mode to watch both men, and the team leaves them alone. 

For a week, there’s incessant banging and screaming from Bucky’s room, but unless JARVIS were to tell them otherwise, the team doesn’t investigate. Steve’s room is almost too quiet, and Natasha has JARVIS send her daily, even hourly, updates on his state.

Steve comes out of his room first, a little dazed still, but fully caught up to the present. He has no memory of reliving everything from 1939 to when he reemerged, but does know something went wrong on their last mission.

Wanda gives Steve a great big hug when she sees him, and then Steve really wants to know what had happened. The team lets Natasha slowly explain, and when she’s finished, Steve is speechless. His only question is whether Bucky is at least okay as he is, and Natasha tells him that Bucky is still working through his memories. 

Steve starts to go off to rest some more in his bedroom, but Tony stops him and hands him a disc. On it is written 1939 - 1945 and Tony assures Steve it’s the only copy and that any other video had been thoroughly deleted from any other database in the universe.

A few days later, Bucky comes out from his safe room and keeps his distance from everyone else. He seems to have a better idea that he’d relived something traumatic and the job falls to Natasha again to carefully explain what had happened. 

Bucky eventually makes his way to his and Steve’s bedroom, and finds Steve sleeping on top of the covers in sweatpants and the sweater Bucky had given him for Christmas. Bucky sits beside him and brushes his finger softly along the side of Steve’s face until he wakes. 

When Steve sees him, they embrace and it’s quiet. Neither of them say a word until Bucky sees that their TV is on and paused on something that looks like the two of them. 

Steve rushes to try and turn it off, but Bucky catches him and gets an explanation. Steve tells him it’s their memories, and that he’s watched the whole thing and was trying to again, but it’s a lot.

He offers to put it away somewhere where it will never see the light of day, but Bucky wants to see it. He’s still missing a lot of their life from before the Winter Soldier, even after reliving it all, and he wants to try.

So, they settle down and Steve restarts the disc.

At first, Bucky has a permanent smile etched onto his face and the two of them laugh over how awkward they look. The disc shows them a mixture of feed from the implanted chips and video from the cameras in the replica apartment. 

Eventually, they end up with Bucky holding Steve from behind, arms around his chest, and his head on Steve’s shoulder with Steve sitting crisscross between Bucky’s legs. 

They stop the video when Bucky goes off to war, partly because it’s midnight and mostly because Bucky won’t stop apologizing for it. 

The next day, they wake up and immediately start the video again, taking the same position they were in the day before. 

Bucky watches eagerly as he witnesses Steve’s memory of becoming the body of Captain America, and makes fun of him throughout the showgirl phase. 

He steels himself through the memory of his torture before Steve rescued him, hand tight in Steve’s and nose buried in Steve’s neck, keeping his breath steady and slow.

They stop the video one last time when Steve starts crying as Bucky witnesses the memory of Steve breaking down after he’d lost Bucky on the train. Bucky doesn’t try to tell Steve that none of it was his fault. Instead, he wraps the both of them in their comforter and they quietly make plans to have Steve join Bucky in his therapy sessions, and maybe even have ones of just Steve. 

They finish the last part of the video, both a bit emotionally worn out. They spend the rest of the day in bed, sleeping and cuddling and actually just staring at each other because they can.