#trying to figure out the difference between all the sciences that seem vaguely the same

[writeouswriter]

Already made similar post but I want to create scientist OCs so badly, but don't want to look deeply into different branches of science to figure out which one they should specialize in because I've been in a wikipedia rabbit hole of sciences, some of which I didn't even know existed, for days now and yet I have absorbed none of the information nor come closer to a conclusion, Carlos, give me strength, you're all just gonna be last name the scientist, you're specializing in the science of science, I swear, aahhh

[moodymisty]

Five Times You Flirted With Wrecker, And The Time He Flirted Back - Ch 3

< Chapter 2 | Chapter 4 >

Author's Note: The fluff is getting more intense.

Summary: Of course out of all the clones in the galaxy to fall head over heels in love with, you pick the one that just thinks you're doing a flip.

Relationships: Wrecker/Fem!Reader

Story-wide Warnings: Eventual NSFW, Fluff, Shy!Reader, Friends to lovers, Awkward flirting, Pining, one instance of a drunk clone being a little pushy but nothing extreme, Reader is too shy and Wrecker is too oblivious, Reader is vaguely one or twice described as being ‘nerdy’ but no details, Size difference, Vaginal sex, Unprotected sex,

Word count: 2258

Ao3 Link

Despite the cloud obscured sun shining down brightly on everything it touches, the air is still brisk; Smelling like the fumes from speeders and fresh rain on the concrete. It had rained earlier in the day and it'll probably once again soon, but you're both currently enjoying the moment in-between the downpours.

It's not as if you mind the rain all that much, though you'd prefer to be inside in order to properly enjoy it, when it does inevitably return. Perhaps with a blanket and a warm drink, and something nice to read. No matter how much one likes the rain, very few people actually enjoy being in said foul weather- and becoming a slopping wet mess in the process.

“Oh yeah,” Wrecker speaks up as he walks along side you, gesturing a hand outward. He has to walk at a slower pace in order to stay at the same speed, as his significant height makes it harder to keep up with his stride.

“Tech wanted to thank ya for getting all this stuff for him.” Shrugging it off, you keep walking ahead. Part of you wishes you’d worn something a bit thicker, as the cold wind pierces through the fabric of your top.

You’d just wanted to look a little nicer, that’s all. No reason in particular...

“Nah, tell him not to worry about it. He fixed my datapad, so I owe him one.”

You’d at first wondered why he wouldn’t want to get it himself, but you figured it was more than likely because he’s trying to micromanage multiple projects at once. Even more than usual.

It was also the perfect excuse to spend some alone time with Wrecker. Who’d offered to come with oddly fast, once you said yes to going scavenging around for parts.

‘Sweet! We’ll go tomorrow. It’s a date!’

You wish you would’ve worded it differently at the time, but it got what you wanted, in the end.

And plenty of it to; As you’ve been to multiple shops all across the district, and have yet to find what you’re both looking for. This has to be the fourth one now, walking inside and getting instantly overwhelmed by the intense heat for barely working technology and other such things, producing a fair bit of smog and dust. There’s a rusty droid doing something towards the side, though it’s body is blocking whatever it is.

The owner hears the electronic ring of the doorbell that signals your entrance and comes from the back, thankfully not taking any significant notice of the odd duo standing in front of him. His brow raises a little, but nothing explicit is said.

Unlike the second shop you had visited, who was quite overt about not being a fan of clones.

More than a few things were said that made you want to pick a fight, but Wrecker had borderline hauled you out by the armpits before you had a chance to throw a punch. You’d since calmed down, but you also still felt a little upset that Wrecker didn’t seem bothered. Though Wrecker doesn’t easily get bothered, he always takes things in stride.

“Lookin’ for something?” The shop owner has a rag in his hands, though he isn’t currently using it. Wrecker lets you do the talking, watching as you pull out your datapad and show a schematic that Tech had given you. It’s not the first time you’ve done this song and dance, so you have it down to a bit of a science.

“Do you have one of these?” He gives it a quick look over and hums.

“I think I got a spare one in the back, yeah. Not in the best shape, though.” Both you and Wrecker look at each other and let out a sigh of relief, putting the datapad away.

“Thank the gods; We’ve been all around the district looking.” Raising his eyebrows at you, the shopkeeper tries to wipe some oil from his hand but only really serves to smudge it more. “Not surprised; Most people just scrap that stuff for metal.” He pauses for a moment, looking you up and down. “What’s a lady like you doing lookin’ around for junk like that?” You roll your eyes.

“It’s for a friend.”

Looking up towards Wrecker the shopkeeper noticeably changes his tune, and wanders towards the back to get the piece. Though when you look up at Wrecker, he’s looking down on you like he did nothing at all.

Hearing some rustling around you wait for him to return, only to come back with quite a large container which holds the object of Tech’s- current- desire.

“I take 90 for it, since I want it out of the shop.” Wrecker’s eyebrows noticeably raise, watching you divvy out the credits. He leans in closer and attempts to whisper, but fails to do so quietly.

“Uh, he ain’t got those kinda creds…” You continue doing so, paying and grabbing the box to hold against your chest.

“Like I said, I owe him one. And if he insists, tell him I got an old speeder bike he can fix.” The idea of a speeder bike perks Wrecker up, but you change the subject before he has the chance to probe you on it. “Lets go get this stuff back to the ship so Tech can use it for, whatever he’s gonna use it for.”

You didn’t ask for those details; You had only cared about the ‘time alone with Wrecker’ details.

Leaving the shop, you hear the sky begin to rumble with discontent not too far away, but ignore it for the time being. The walk back to the public landing pad that they’re using so Tech can obtain his by GAR standards ‘illicit’ goods is quite far, but hopefully you’ll be able to beat any rain before it comes.

“Here, let me carry it.”

Wrecker attempts to grasp the top of the box and take it from you, but you step away from him before he has a chance to get a hold.

“It’s fine I got it,” You say, pouting at him. His hands are still outreached, as if waiting. “I can carry a little box, Wreck.” He puts his hands down and drops it, but still keeps glancing over at you as if checking for if you’re struggling. It’s cute that he cares, but you can do a few things for yourself.

Part of you is getting a little hungry and considering getting something to eat, but before you can comment on it, you feel something hit your nose. Adjusting your hold on the box you reach up with one hand and feel it; The droplet of water sticking to your finger. Another hits your face and Wrecker notices you looking up, and reaches out his hand to feel the air. He feels a few droplets land on his glove, and turns to you.

“I thought you said the rain wasn’t gonna happen till we were done?”

You look up at the sky, and instantly blink as more hit your face and slide down your cheeks.

“I said I think, not that I knew!” More and more hit droplets hit your face, now starting to slowly puddle on the ground. Since your hands are currently filled with a box stuffed with junk, you don’t have much protection when the rain starts quickly coming down, as it progresses from a little sprinkle to an entire downpour.

“Oh good-” Your neck shrinks into your shoulders, feeling the cold water begin to penetrate your clothes and quickly wanting to shiver. “Save the electronics!” Even if the container they’re in has a lid, you’re still attempting to keep the sudden amount of water hitting it from somehow slipping inside.

Wrecker in all of his quick thinking pulls off his chestplate, and attempts to use it as an umbrella for you. It works in theory, though he’s just a little bit too late on the draw. He’d left his backpack back on the Marauder, which was the only reason he could take it off to begin with.

“Wrecker! This is ridiculous!” He holds it over your head, laughing hard enough that you can feel it in your chest. You’re giggling as well, enough so that your cheeks hurt.

“Well you’re dry, aren’t you?” He tilts it back enough that he can see your head again, and notices he was too late to the draw and that you’re already slopping wet.

“Oh.”

He can barely get out a single word, trying not to laugh at the way your hair is being weighed down by so much rainwater.

He resigns the effort, and puts the chestplate back on. The both of you are completely soaked to the bone within moments, but it affects Wrecker less visually than it does you. His armor is streaked with raindrops and his bodyglove underneath is noticeably darker, meanwhile your clothes are completely sticking to your entire body.

Daring to be a bit playful Wrecker stomps in a puddle beside you and sends the water smacking into your calf, and making you yell at the sudden slap of cold water.

“Wrecker!!!” You quickly kick some back in his direction, but he dodges most of it.

“Hah! Nice try!” He kicks more water in your direction, until you end up in a part of the street with more people, and have to stop playing around.

You soon after try and find some sort of cover from the rain underneath the awnings of some shops as you walk, though most of it is just an effort not to stay soaked, as preventing it has already long since passed. But feeling the way your top is beginning to stick on your back and rise upward, you finally shift the box in the direction of Wrecker.

“Can you hold this? I need to fix my top…” He quickly takes it from you, holding it under one arm with ease while his other hand wipes the water from his face. And quickly pulling down your top before anyone notices, you also attempt to wring out the front of it. When you glance up at Wrecker while doing so he’s quite overly turned away, trying to be polite. It’s cute, that he seems almost shy.

“I am freezing, we couldn’t have picked a worse time to get rained on.” You try to hold back a shiver, but you can see the outline of the Marauder at the end of the landing pad. It’ll be warmer in there, or at least dry.

“Eh, it could’ve been worse right?” Ever the source of positivity, you can’t help but smile; But Wrecker can’t help but laugh at the sight of streaks of water rolling down your face, as it continues to rain down. He does loose that smile a bit suddenly however, and is replaced by an expression you can’t figure out.

Before you can figure it out, the two of you are let inside the Marauder, and it isn’t long after that your current state is noticed.

“You two look like you had fun.” Hunter watches the two of you enter the Marauder, shaking off like wet massiffs.

“The weather is awful out there, started pouring down the second we started heading back.” Wrecker goes to dump the box off on Tech’s workbench, while you stay with Hunter. You make on overarching gesture to yourself.

“Mind if I use your refresher to wring out my clothes?” He laughs, noticing the way you’re still dripping water on the floor.

“Go right ahead. Ship’s yours.”

Thanking him, you walk past and step into their, abit tiny, refresher, closing the door and wiping some of the water off of your face. You do what you can to get the water out of your hair, also wringing out your socks so you aren’t standing in puddles.

Lastly you decide to wring out your shirt really quick, attempting to do one piece at a time before resigning to just take it completely off.

It’ll only a few minutes, and hopefully it’ll keep you from freezing with how soaked it is. Your bra is as well, though you can’t really think of an easy way to wring the water out of it without ruining it in some way. You have the whole thing almost done, wrapping it in as tight of a spiral as you can over the drain and squeezing. The water pours from it like a fountain, and you lean forward to try and twirl it tighter and get even more out.

But when you suddenly hear the door open you turn, almost jumping as Wrecker suddenly is in view in the doorway. You must’ve forgotten to lock it.

Wrecker completely freezes, only able to let out a gormless ‘uhhh’ as you try to cover your chest. When he stumbles out an awkward and barely audible apology, you quickly shake it off.

Perhaps a little too much.

“Oh no, it’s fine-” You almost choke on air. “I-Imean don’t worry about!”

You want to turn into mush right then and there because of how that sounded, before just quickly closing the door on him to finish up and pull your shirt back on.

When you open the door again Wrecker is noticeably gone; However Crosshair is leaning against the wall close by. His face is absolutely coated with amusement, and he’s grinning almost as wide as you’ve ever seen him.

“It’s fine? Really?”

You purse your lips tight, taking a deep breath.

“Shut up, Crosshair.”

[herrscherofmagic]

IMO, the current story arc in HI3rd might just be my favorite one so far. i've got a lot of thoughts to share on it, so I present to you this post! But first, a preamble :)

This is a really long post, I think I used the right tags for this? idk

I'm basically just copying over a post that I made for Reddit, so idk if this is way too long for tumblr or what. I've got a habit of writing pointlessly-long things on Reddit and idk if the Tumblr folks appreciate this or not x-x

but without further ado! my thoughts on the whole "city of salt and sand" story we've got going on right now.

P.S., this is mostly spoiler-free; I don't make any specific references to events in the story, except for Susannah's feelings but even that is really vague so it shouldn't reveal any plot twists or anything like that.

I remember how confusing and awkward it was when I first started playing HI3rd.

I didn't have a clue who any of these characters were, some parts of the story seemed weird, or convoluted, or had no explanation. Over time I caught up through reading the manga and catching up with the story; I looked through past events to figure out the story of the Captainverse; and I've been thinking plenty about the story of HI3rd and the other Hoyo games, trying to piece together different ideas and themes.

With all that in mind, I feel like this story arc has been probably one of the strongest pieces of storytelling in all of HI3rd, and maybe even across all the Hoyo games (that I've played, at least).

I'll make the obligatory disclaimer that yes, sometimes the technobabble gets a bit confusing. Thankfully I can understand a fair bit of it because of some exposure I've had to math and science, but I can't pretend to be at Schrodinger's level.

But I think this chapter did a great job at presenting some of these ideas in a way that felt natural to the progression of the story, while also making it understandable. We might get a statement that makes 0 sense, but you can usually figure out what's going on through context clues, as well as the analogies that some characters have been making.

I think the cast chosen for this arc has also been a huge help. This is probably the single most diverse cast we've had, in terms of personality, behavior, and mindset. Whether it's Kira repressing her "dislike" of Misteln, or the banter between Senti and Seele, there's been a lot of fun moments where these characters aren't all thinking on the same wavelength. Instead they need to find ways to understand each other. It really feels like there's an effort being made by these people to understand the situation they're in, and every step forward or misstep backwards feels meaningful. It's that variety in beliefs and personality that really spices things up and makes it feel so much more lively to me!

Building on that, I've also really enjoyed some of the themes being presented here.

Especially Susannah... oh boy do I have a lot to say here!

I think Susannah's development has been phenomenal (though it's absolutely criminal that a lot of it is limited-time events... THREE events now). In fact, while this isn't quite as serious of a situation, I'd go so far as to say that it's vaguely comparable to Kiana's experience in Arc City.

Yes, the severity is different.

But the thing that made me love Honkai was how we saw Kiana grow very slowly. It was an imperfect journey and it took tremendous effort on her part, but she was able to keep moving forward. Sometimes it felt like Kiana made progress (such as her training with Fu Hua), but this progress masked deeper problems that she couldn't run from (her sacrificial nature). This led to that emotional back-and-forth, where Kiana had real victories and real defeats over time. It wasn't just "The power of friendship!" saving the day in one fell swoop, but instead it felt like a much more realistic take on how difficult it can be to recover from trauma.

Susannah doesn't have to deal with the freakin' Herrscher of the Void inside of her, but her own mind puts up a big fight nonetheless. The more I see Susannah move forward and stumble back time and again, the more I feel a stronger connection with her as a character. For crying out loud, just in the last week or two I've lost count of how many times I've felt like I've been making great strides in my art one day while being a complete emotional train-wreck the next day.

Seeing Susannah breaking down but picking herself back up and moving forward nonetheless... That is why I put so much of my energy towards the idea of storytelling. It's why I play games and obsess over stories and analyze characters and dissect settings and come up with theories and headcanons and fanon and more. Being able to see these characters go through these struggles and seeing how that can relate to my own experience in life is something that has genuinely made me a better person over the years, and might have even saved my life in a way. I want nothing more than to be able to tell stories just like this someday, so that perhaps others might be able to learn and grow from my own stories that I conjure up.

While Susannah is the one I personally relate to the most, I've still been able to appreciate the rest of the cast, too. It's enjoyable to see the way they interact with each other, but I also feel invested in every single person here. There's even a particular someone I've especially grown to love here, but there's leaks and spoilers a-plenty out here in the internet right now so I don't really want to push that subject.

For the sake of keeping this spoiler-free I've been avoiding specifics, but honestly there's just too much for me to talk about even if I wanted to dive right into it. From the setting and stage design, to the character interactions, the development of the plot, the conflicts and resolutions we've had so far, it all just feels so satisfying to me.

I guarantee that there are some objective flaws somewhere in this story arc, and I wouldn't be surprised if others were to start pointing out those flaws. But I'm still enjoying the story, so even if I can't say "This is an objectively great story", I can still say "This is a story I love", and that's good enough for me~ ^_^

[crowley-in-arkham]

I think I must've sent Strange into the ceiling with my gas mask.

He jumped, then, as he settled, snickered.

"Well, good morning to you Crowley."

"Where is Jonathan?"

"Or-- not. Carrion."

"Crowley."

"Did Crane tell you?"

"Different bird entirely."

"Right, right. The orderly. Crane did say he was a risk."

"Where is Jonathan? I'm not asking."

"Mn, don't make me blush, Crowley. You're starting to sound like Batman."

"Jon. Now."

"In his office."

"Where? You're being vague."

"Carrion was right; you really are the same person." He leaned back in his chair and readjusted his glasses. "Building B. Third floor, old supply closet near the stairs. Just like yours, if I recall—Jonathan hates the sunshine."

I took a note, then leaned over Strange's desk.

"Now one more thing, Hugo," I looked into his eyes. They held an amused yet clinical gaze, "Tockman. What did I do to Tockman?"

Strange smiled a toothy grin. "Oh. Crowley, you read the file, didn’t you?"

I did. In a section titled "Responses," it explained, Secondary was approached by a fight-response subject, who attacked her in the introduction. It explained Secondary, Carrion, responded identically to "previous tests." A violent reaction interrupted just before the dismemberment of the assailant.

"The 'formula'. Explain."

"A pet project, something Mr. Luthor provided the means and funding to conduct."

I furrowed my brows, recalling full well the kinds of "experiments" Mr. Luthor conducts.

"You're not suggesting--" my nose scrunched as I growled, "the hell were you doing to me?"

"Oh, it was voluntary—at least—Carrion didn’t mind. Dr. Crane also subjected himself to it."

"That's not an explanation," I huffed.

"Metahuman research."

"What? What does that have to do with anything?"

Strange chuckled. "You should hear it from Jonathan; he's why we chose you, after all."

I felt a bit staggered by that.

"H- He what?"

"He suggested you would be a perfect subject for experimentation, as your dissociative personality seemed to trigger only with the coaxing of a concentrated fear toxin. You were able to wander Arkham freely. Even treat patients. You were stable in both regards, even Carrion, despite her violent outbursts in the experimentation room." Hugo shrugged.

"Crane was enthralled by how his toxin affected you. He suggested trying to bridge the gap between Crowley and Carrion overtime via the fear toxin we pumped into your office."

"For?"

"Science, I suppose. "Research into the side-effects of FT on dissociative personalities," says Crane, "We were going to see if the same could be achieved with Mr. Dent, hence-"

"Why he became my patient," I murmured. I tilted my head. "But I'm still a bit of a unique case for a test like that."

"Oh, but it worked. We held up our side of Carrion's deal."

"I don't remember much of what Carrion did—or any of what she agreed to, for that matter."

"It'll come in time," Hugo tapped his watch, "think about it. What did you do to Tockman?"

I stood up again and pondered, remembering how Jervis described him and how the other critical patient on the gurney looked without a face, his fear of needles.

Then, like a vivid dream, I recalled a room with intense lighting. Tockman's frenzied gaze and his stature as he came towards me with a frothing mouth and bared claws—like an animal.

"He tried to kill me."

"Yes, yes, and?"

I thought hard about it, being pinned by the man.

I recalled a splash of black ink on the padded white walls.

"Black stuff."

Hugo snickered, "Yes, I suppose you can call it that."

"What did I do to him?"

"We haven't quite figured out how it works."

Then again, a vivid picture. Black spatters on the ivory floor.

Dripping black ooze poured from the mouth and eyes of my attacker. A lashing blackness seemed to live and squirm like an onyx amoeba as it overtook him. It delved back into his skin, making him pulse and swell like a marshmallow in a microwave. Then--

I remember the pain. It sent me to the ground, and a group of guards plucked the tattered Tockman from the room.

I lurched from the nightmare and gagged, falling to my knees and scrambling to catch anything that tried to erupt from my throat: "What the fuck did I do to him?"

"Crowley, don't you see how brilliant this is?"

"Brilliant?" I swallowed hard the bubbling bile. "I'm some kind of Lovecraftian abomination."

"Powerful," Hugo looked pleased, "superhuman."

"No, I never wanted powerful or superhuman." I stepped back and met my fingers on the door handle.

"You could save the world."

"The world is fine." I swallowed again, quelling my stomach. "The world will fix itself; it doesn't need me to save it."

I stared at Hugo as I pushed open the door. "I'm not one of the damn Rogues, Strange."

"No. No, you're not, Crowley." He smiled to himself as I slipped out and made headway toward Crane's office.

[after-witch]

Bad Day (Yandere Overhaul x Reader)

Title: Bad Day (Yandere Overhaul x Reader)

Synopsis: You’re in one of your… moods again, barely able to lift your head on your own. Kai wants to help you.

Notes: yandere, stockholm syndrome

You are having one of your… “off days,” again.

Kai Chisaki purses his lips behind the black face mask stretched across his face. He’s been sitting at his desk, diligently working, sneaking glances to the tablet dedicated exclusively for streaming footage from your room 24/7. It gave him solace to see you curled up reading a book or pecking away at a puzzle or humming to yourself while you cleaned up what tiny messes you were able to make in your room.

But for the past few hours, since morning actually, you had been curled up on the side of your bed doing… nothing. 

He had a feeling that something was off in the morning when you did little to obey or resist him as he went about your routine. You didn’t tell him to “fuck off” which was a plus, but you didn’t greet him or acknowledge him, either. It took you far too long to put on your clothes, and Kai had almost forced himself to turn around and see if something was wrong, before you finally mumbled that you were finished.

After he’d gotten you ready, he set down your breakfast tray and mentioned that you’d be eating alone--he had something to get done. You didn’t reply. He had watched on his tablet as you slowly, almost dizzily seemed to sit down at your desk and pick at your food. A few bites, if that. Then you walked to your bed, legs nearly dragging, and curled up with your pillow.

And now, there you were, still curled up. Kai zoomed in with his stylus, and saw the hints of glinting wetness on your cheeks. You’re crying, silently. The sight tugs at his heartstrings. He could handle it when you cried during a punishment--your tears were a consequence of not listening to his superior intellect and judgement, after all. But the late night cries or the days, like this one, where you simply weep endlessly are a different matter.

He sighs and shuts his laptop with a quiet click. He opens a locked drawer in his desk and retrieves a small bag with vials and needles--in case he needs them. Then he walks the few steps to your door and knocks.

**

You’re crying. You barely realize it until you feel the thick wetness pooling on your cheeks as they press against the pillow. You wipe the tears away, but more come easily to replace them, and you don’t have the energy to move your hands anymore. You hope your silent tears become sobs, soon. Those feel better than the bitter quiet ones.

Everything feels heavy and slow. You curl up tighter and wish you could make the heavy weight on your chest go away. It feels like an anchor--or a night hag. You wonder if you’re dreaming, one of those terrible dreams you’ve been having since you were taken captive; the ones where you can’t move and the world is a giant rush of thick, slowing fluidity and rushing sounds but no matter what you do, how hard you try to scream through your thick tongue, you can’t move a muscle. You wake up endlessly, falsely, until finally the morning (and Kai) arrives.

But you’ve done all the dream checks Kai has taught you (you hated to admit the nightmares at first, but they got so bad that you were losing sleep, and the conversation about your dark eye circles was inevitable) and it’s clear: you’re awake.

You’re not having a nightmare. You’re just… sad.

The realization drags you down further. You’re sad. You’re sad and… there’s nothing you can do about it. You can’t escape. Even mental escapes were few and far between.

Thinking about the past makes you cry, but thinking about the future is just as crushing. What future? Trapped in a room that’s not your own, doing puzzles and reading books, eating food from trays; you felt like a specimen in a zoo, a character stray out of a science fiction short story. Come one, come all, come watch the fascinating (Y/N) as she lives in her little bubble where the only choices she has are the ones we give her!

Whoop-de-doo, you think, whoop-de-fucking-doo.

Yet even your bitter sarcasm, once something you held onto to keep you sane as your captor chipped away at your defiance, feels hollow. What’s the point? Nothing you said had any real effect on him. Or you. They were just words. You were helpless. He could close your throat with a gesture. He wouldn’t--probably, you think, probably--but he still controlled what you did and what you ate and lately, how you felt, and that was the present. Your present.

You swallow, throat dry and begging for a drink, but you can’t be bothered to get out of bed and reach the glass of water still sitting on your desk. Your eyes trace the curvature of the glass, the little beads of condensation on the rim.

You’re a few minutes into your tracing game when you hear a firm, deceptively polite knock at the door.

Oh.

He likes to knock, likes to hear you tell him “Come in.” But you don’t have the energy for that today, so you stare aimlessly at the door. A few more knocks, and then he enters, anyway. Figures.

“I came to see how you were doing,” he says.

You stare ahead, seeing him, but not focusing on him. Your eyes eventually drift back to the glass.

He watches you.

“You didn’t get enough water today, did you? You know hydration is important.”

You lick your lips unconsciously but say nothing.

“Come, (Y/N), get out of bed and we’ll get you a fresh glass of water.”

Your body, your throat, aches for the refreshment. But your mind keeps you firmly planted in bed.

Kai sighs, and you tense. That sigh either means you’re in for a lecture or some type of injection. Or both. But even the threat of a mysterious liquid burning inside your veins can’t get you to move, so you remain curled up, staring ahead.

 You think about turning around so you can stare at the wall and not Kai, walking towards you, but whatever part of your brain that controls common sense overrides the impulse.

Kai sits himself on the side of your bed, his back almost carelessly brushing your legs. It makes you shiver.

“Do you feel ill?”

At that, you force yourself to whisper, afraid of what will happen if you let him go down that road again. Your voice is hoarse, dry, and painfully in need of use.

“No,” you say. You vainly attempt to clear your throat. “I’m not sick, I swear.”

“Hmm.”

Kai reaches a hand across your body and places it against your forehead. You feel his cool skin against your head and realize that he’s taken his gloves off. For you, he said once, only for you.

“Your head doesn’t feel warm.”

You dimly remember your mom saying that, once or twice or maybe a dozen times, when you were trying to fake sick to get out of school. You close your eyes and pretend, for just a second, that you’re little and under your cartoon-character-print covers and that it’s your mom touching you.

You open your eyes as Kai speaks and ruins the illusion.

“Is something bothering you?”

You’re bothering me, you think. You want him to go away. You just want to stare at the glass or the wall anything, really, anything that lets you unfocus your mind and let your emotions weigh you down. You want to cry and cry until your chest heaves and your eyes sting and snot pours down your face.

“Answer me,” he says, and you almost flinch at the order when you realize that it was spoken with none of his characteristic sternness or condescension.. Usually when you don’t listen, he gets stern, almost paternalistic in his desire to make you just listen-to-him-for-once. But now, his voice is soft. Almost… pleading, you think. Almost caring.

You whimper softly when you feel both his hands around your upper arms. He pulls you up, his grip firm but not harsh, until you’re sitting against the headboard. The position almost makes you dizzy--you’d been laying prone since the morning.

“Answer me,” he says again, this time as his hands trace the tears on your cheeks and wipe the remnants away. You wonder if he’s fighting the urge to scrub the saltiness from his fingers--they must feel dirty.

You shake your head, vaguely, softly. You stare at your hands, folded almost primly in your lap. You don’t want to tell him anything. You want him to go away so you can weep about everything you’ve lost, past, future and present. His prying makes your stomach twist with something you don’t recognize. Pity? Hope?

You look up at him and flinch.

His eyes are wet. Tears brimming underneath.

Your captor. Kai Chisaki. Overhaul. Is crying--or close to it.

Instinctively, your hand reaches for his shoulder. Now it’s his turn to flinch at your fingers curl around him, softly at first, then with a sympathetic grip.

“Don’t… don’t cry,” you say. Your stomach feels like it’s doing flips. You hate seeing him cry, and you don’t know why you should--he’s made you cry countless times.

“I’m worried about you, ” he says, “So worried.” His voice is dripping with warmth and truth. You hate it. But it makes you feel like you’re cocooned and safe, all the same.

You barely register as Kai wraps both his arms around your back and pulls you in close. The sudden gesture is shocking, unwanted. Your other hand grips his other shoulder and you want to push away, but the sudden warmth and closeness--physical interactions you haven’t been able to enjoy for months--brings tears back to your eyes. When was the last time you had been held, except in dreams?

“Please tell me what’s wrong, angel,” he says. His own voice is hoarse now, and you wonder if he’s starting to cry. Your hands release their defensive grip and you find your fingers clenching the fabric of his shirt.

“I’m just…” You struggle for the words and grip his shirt tighter. “I’m just having a bad day,” you whisper, finally. You lean your face against his chest, closing your eyes against the tears that spill down your cheeks.

Kai’s hands, which have killed countless men, rub your back softly. He shushes you, soft and plying. You close your eyes and wonder what will happen when you open them again.

[after-avenging-hours]

Out of Time [Epilogue]: Steve x Reader

Series Masterlist

Summary:  After Steve gets injected with a mysterious substance during a mission gone wrong, you come to find out that the only thing that can save his life is a pure sample of Dr. Erskine’s Super Soldier Serum. Unwilling to let the love of your life die without a fighting chance, you travel through the quantum realm back to 1943. Equipped with little more than your knowledge of past events, you have to figure out just how exactly you’re going to get your hands on that serum. Not only that, but with the infinity stones no longer protecting the reality you’ve come from, there is now a chance that your presence in the past can change the future you’ll return to. Can you succeed without messing things up? And if things go wrong, can you fix it before it’s too late? Or will you run out of time…

Word Count: 4614

Warnings: You might die from cuteness

When you land back in the future, your entire body is shaking. You have just enough strength to hit the button on the time watch to dissolve your quantum suit before you collapse to your knees.

“Vic!” Bucky vaults onto the platform. He kneels in front of you, taking your face into his hands. “Vic, what’s wrong?”

“Did you get the serum?” You can hear Bruce’s voice.

Your breaths come out in sputtering gasps, but you try to fight through it and nod your head. “Yes,” you choke out. “I have it.” Your hands are shaking as you reach for the internal pocket on your coat and hand it over to Bucky. “Dr. Erskine said that the components will begin to degrade the longer it’s left unused. I don’t know how much time we have left.”

Bucky takes the vial and quickly hands it off to Bruce, before returning to you. He places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “What happened?” he coaxes gently.

Tears well up in your eyes when you look back at him. “I think I messed up.”

He gently helps you to your feet and takes you to your bedroom to get cleaned up and changed into something more comfortable as you begin to divulge in full detail what exactly happened when you traveled back in time. He sits patiently on the corner of your bed as you pace up and down the room. You talk until your voice is raw and then you keep going.

“But then he threatened to drop the vial if I didn’t tell him who I worked for! I didn’t know what else to do, so I told him the truth…”

“And he believed you,” Bucky surmises, already putting the pieces together.

“He did,” you confirm, going a little soft as you recall his reasoning for believing you. “But Bucky…” you begin to shake your head fervently. “I broke every rule! I changed everything! None of that was supposed to happen!” You gesture wildly off to the side in a vague attempt at pointing toward the past. “And now, it’s too late to fix any of it,” you say brokenly.

Bucky releases a long breath, his mind spinning after everything you’ve just revealed. “Look, I’m not the science expert here and my only experience with time travel is getting shoved into an icebox every few years,” his lame attempt at a joke makes you scoff at best. “But I’m pretty sure that if anything got changed from this, you would be the only one that knows any different. So, let’s start small.”

You tilt your head as you look back at him, not understanding where he’s going with this.

“Look around your room. Is anything different here?” he asks.

As soon as you realize what he’s getting at, you start to walk around the room. Everything is exactly as you had left it. There’s a picture frame on the nightstand on your side of the bed. You’re tucked under Steve’s arm and smiling brightly at the camera. You remember that the photo was taken during one of Tony’s parties. Steve is wearing that tight blue button-up shirt that always drives you crazy and you’re decked out in a pretty red dress. Not even ten minutes after this photo was taken, you and Steve had snuck off for a quickie in the bathroom, because you just couldn’t handle how sexy he was in that damn shirt.

You smile fondly at the picture and move around the rest of the room. The books on your bookshelf are all the same. Half of them are yours, half are Steve’s. The closet is still divided between both of your things, but it’s all the same outfits you’ve seen hundreds of times. The bathroom still has both of your toothbrushes in the cup by the sink. A few different makeup products are scattered over the counter from when you’d been trying to figure out what you were going to take with you to 1943.

You make your way back over to Bucky, shaking your head and shrugging your shoulders. “It’s all the same.”

“Okay,” Bucky nods. “And I assume that I’m not any different, right?” He asks. “Now be careful with what you say, because if you tell me I didn’t have to lose my arm, I may just pull this one off and throw it at you,” he jokes again, pointing to his metal arm.

That one manages to successfully pull a laugh out of you, even if it’s a small one. “No, you’re the same. Metal arm included.”

“Alright…” Bucky grunts quietly as he pushes off the bed to stand up. “Then let’s widen our scope. While we’re at it, let’s head to the kitchen and get some food in you.”

You’re not very hungry, but you know that Bucky is just trying to take care of you in Steve’s absence, so you don’t argue. The two of you leave the living quarters and head for the shared kitchen. It’s strange being back. Not only because of the abundance of technology, that you had seriously taken for granted, but also because that feeling of uselessness was beginning to sink back in.

You’d completed your part. You got the serum. Now all that’s left is to wait and see if it paid off. You’re of no use at this point and that is really starting to weigh on you. “Bucky… what if it doesn’t work?” you ask, your voice sounding hollow.

“Don’t say that, Vic. Don’t even think it,” he responds swiftly. “You busted your ass to get us that serum. It’s going to work.”

You have to bite your lip to keep it from trembling, your eyes are already so raw from how much you’ve been crying that it physically hurts to tear up. “How can you be so sure?”

His gaze softens when he looks back at you. “You said it perfectly yourself. I have faith.”

--

Bucky was lucky enough to get some food in you but was wholly unsuccessful in getting you to rest. So here you are, 24 hours after arriving back from the past and you’re sitting at Steve’s bedside, desperately scrolling through a tablet reading through as many historical events as you can from the last century, trying to figure out what’s changed. So far, you’ve come up empty.

Bruce showed up at about 3 in the morning to tell you they had a breakthrough with the serum and had been able to synthesize a cure. He had even reached out to Shuri in Wakanda to have her double-check their work before preparing the antidote to administer into Steve’s IV. You gave her a quick phone call to let her know how grateful you were for her help and to tell her how handy her healing gel had been during your travels. When you asked how you could ever repay her, she’d laughed and told you to take her to Disneyland, because T’Challa still refused to take her himself. That made you crack a smile and you quickly agreed to get a trip planned.

Everyone else had, for the most part, left you alone to be with Steve. You are completely exhausted, both physically and mentally, but you can’t seem to let your mind rest. You can’t help but feel in your gut that your presence in the past had to have changed something. You just can’t for the life of you figure out what.

“Vic?”

The rough voice has your head snapping up so fast, you get whiplash. “Steve!” You quickly place the tablet down and scramble to your feet.

He blinks heavily, and he looks groggy as all hell, but he’s definitely awake.

“Oh, you big idiot. You scared the shit out of me!” You’re already crying again, just from the relief of seeing him awake.

“Sorry,” he grimaces. “What happened?”

“Those Hydra scientists injected you with some type of anti-serum poison. It almost killed you.”

“Would explain why I feel like shit…” he mumbles.

You scoff out a wet laugh. Reaching up, you push his bangs off his forehead then curl your fingers down his temple and over his smooth cheek. “Jerk,” you tell him affectionately.

His lips tilt into a half-grin before immediately falling into a frown. He grips your arm to stop you from pulling it back. “Vic, what is this?” he questions, looking at the bruise around your wrist. Figures he would notice that in mere seconds of being awake. You hadn’t even gotten a chance to have anyone else look at it yet.

“Oh, it’s nothing…” you try to brush it off and take your arm back, but his grip is surprisingly firm for someone that had literally been just steps away from death. Damn Super Soldier.

“It’s not nothing,” he insists. “That’s a handprint! Vic, who did-” he cuts himself off, gaze flickering down to where his fingers are wrapped around the middle of your arm and then back up to the bruise. Slowly, almost hesitantly, his hand travels up the length of your arm until he’s circling your wrist. He’s gentle and doesn’t press on the bruise at all, just hovers over it enough to see the exact match. “I did this,” he states upon the realization. His brows then furrow in confusion. “Why don’t I remember…?” He inhales sharply, his grip going slack, causing his hand to drop into his lap. In the next moment, his head whips around you meet your startled gaze. “You went back!” he exclaims.

“What-” your jaw drops as you stare back at him, wide-eyed. Your heart begins to pound in your chest. “How…”

“Vic, honey, this is serious. Did you go back to 1943?” Steve questions insistently. He looks just about ready to jump out of the hospital bed if you don’t answer immediately.

You release a shaky breath. “How did you know that?” you question, your mind racing to come up with an explanation for whatever seems to be happening here. You jolt when the medical equipment hooked up to Steve starts beeping because of his elevated heart rate. He pulls the heart monitor clip off of his finger and tries to push himself into an upright position. “Whoa, Steve!” you place your hands on his chest to make him lie back again. “Hon, you need to take it easy. Your body is still trying to fight off the poison and you haven’t received the full dose of the antidote, yet.” You hit the button on the side of the bed to lift him up into a seated position.

“Vic, where’s my suit?” he asks urgently.

“Your suit?” you question, not understanding why he’s asking about it. “It’s right here,” you point to where it’s neatly folded on a table behind you. He’d been stripped out of it so they could work on him, but you hadn’t had the time or mental capacity to put it away, yet.

“Look under the chest plate, on the inside of the suit,” he instructs. “There’s a hidden pocket on the left.”

You give him a perplexed look before slowly turning to move toward the table. You slip your hand under the collar of his uniform and feel around under the chest plate. Sure enough, your fingers brush against the small pull tab of an invisible zipper. Pinching it between two fingers, you open the pocket and try to feel for what could be inside. Your fingers brush against some kind of paper. The beat of your heart fills your ears as you slowly pull the paper out and carefully unfold it.

“Oh my god…” all the air rushes out of your lungs at once.

It’s you. Drawn out in charcoal. Asleep on the cot in the barracks at Camp Lehigh. The drawing is unmistakable. You just saw it yesterday morning, so you can recognize it instantly. But the version you hold now is faded and smudged. The paper is soft and worn, the edges have turned yellow. The one you hold now didn’t come through the quantum realm. This one passed through the passage of time one single day at a time.

“You said I should carry you in my heart,” Steve’s words pierce straight through your scattered thoughts, making you gasp. “So, I did.”

Your hands begin to shake. You quickly set down the sketch, afraid that you might damage the delicate paper. “I…” you huff, your mind racing faster than you have the strength to comprehend. “I don’t understand.” Your breath hitches and you cup your hands over your mouth.

“Vic,” Steve calls for you gently.

When you turn to face him, he’s got his hand stretched out, beckoning you closer. You feel dizzy as you walk on unsteady legs over to him, taking his hand and letting him pull you closer until you’re sitting on the side of his bed. “Steve… I don’t- What does this mean?”

He gives you a small smile, squeezing your hand gently for comfort. “You just spent the last two weeks in 1943, right?” You swallow thickly and nod your head. “Vic… those two weeks happened 80 years ago for me.”

You choke on your next breath when his words confirm what your brain is trying to grasp at. “So, that means that I did mess up the timeline, then. Oh, God. Bruce warned me that-”

“Honey, you didn’t mess up anything,” Steve cuts you off, using a soothing tone. 

“But…”

He runs his fingers over your hand, tracing out the lines on your palm in a calming gesture. “Do you remember when you were trying to figure out my Ma’s potato soup recipe?” he asks. “You would get so sad whenever it didn’t turn out quite right.”

You release a shaky breath watching how his fingers trace over your palm again and again. “I almost gave up.”

“I know. But then I begged you to try again. Just one more time. I told you that I knew you would get it right and what happened next?” he prompts.

You huff out a laugh at the memory, “The next one was perfect.”

Steve nods in confirmation. “I knew you would get the recipe right because you’d already made it for me once…” He stops the ministration of his fingers on your hand and waits for your gaze to lift to his. “In 1943,” he finishes.

You hold his gaze and let that sink in. “So… These last two weeks… That was always supposed to happen?”

“Yes,” he confirms with a breath.

“But…” you shake your head trying to wrap your head around this new concept. “You never said anything… Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

He fixes you with a sad look, “For the same reason you were terrified to tell me the truth,” He explains. “I wanted to tell you. In fact, there were several times when I almost did. But I was scared that if I told you before it had a chance to happen, then it wouldn’t happen at all.” He’s gone back to fiddling with your hand, now that he’s the one that needs comfort from the contact. “Vic, look at me,” he implores. “Why do I make you dance with me whenever Taking a Chance on Love comes on?”

He’s never given you a reason before, which means there’s only one answer. “Because I made you dance with me to it in your apartment,” you answer.

He smiles. “Why do I always ask to make sure you’ve checked the expiration date on your emergency inhaler?”

Your breath catches in your throat. “Because I had to give it to you during your asthma attack.”

“Why do I kiss you on your stomach and on your back where you now have a set of scars underneath that t-shirt?”

Your press your free hand to the side of your stomach absentmindedly. “Because you helped me patch up the gunshot wound.”

“See?” he asks. “You didn’t change the timeline, Vic. You completed it.”

The words have no sooner left his mouth before you’re promptly bursting into tears. However, these tears aren’t coming from a place of sadness or fear, they instead stem from pure relief. You crumple forward against his chest, openly sobbing as he wraps an arm around you. “I was so scared that I had messed things up!”

“I know, Honey. But it’s okay. Everything’s okay.” He places a kiss to the top of your head and rubs soothingly at your back. He holds you close as you cry out the last of the stress and tension out of your body.

When you’re no longer racked with sob you push yourself off of him and rise off the bed. You grab a few tissues from the side table to blow your nose and dry your eyes before tossing them into the trash. You release a long sigh, feeling the last of the tension leave you. This, however, allows pure exhaustion to settle over you in its place.

“Vic, I mean this in the most loving way, but you look like crap.”

You release a dry scoff, shooting Steve with a light glare. “Gee, thanks.”

He looks back with concern. “When was the last time you slept?”

Your gaze softens up. “In 1943,” you tell him honestly.

“Come here,” he lifts his arm in invitation.

“Steve, you’re still recovering,” you protest.

“I’ll recover a whole lot faster if you don’t make me get up and come after you.”

You huff out a laugh, but relent and move back toward the bed. “Stubborn jerk,” you mumble. You kick off your shoes and raise the thin blanket covering his legs to tuck yourself in close next to him. You lay on your side, with your head on his chest and a leg thrown over his. You shift around a bit until you find the most comfortable spot. “You were easier to spoon when you were smaller.”

Steve releases a low chuckle, settling his arm over your shoulders and resting his hand at your back. “At least you never called my penis adorable when I was this size.”

“Oh my God,” you grumble. “I never said that, but I can certainly start!”

He snickers when you slap his chest. His hand slips beneath the hem of your shirt and crawls back up until his fingers touch the scar on your back. He releases a low hum. “As soon as I get out of this hospital bed, we’re having crazy hot reunion sex.”

You snort in amusement. “I’m sorry, we’re having what?”

“Hey, you got some like two days ago, but I haven’t had sex in like a month,” he protests.

“Are you seriously jealous of yourself?” you ask dubiously.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he admits, continuing to run his fingers over your scar. “Usually whenever I missed you enough to make my chest ache. It happened a lot when you first left, but it would also creep up on me whenever things got slow on the war front. It always made me think about how there was a version of myself somewhere out there in another time that got to spend every night wrapped up in your arms. A version of me that got to touch you whenever he wanted. Kiss you whenever he pleased. It killed me not knowing when or if I’d ever see you again.”

You rub your cheek against his chest and listen to him talk. “When I was in the Valkyrie while it was going down and had to decide what to do… You were my first thought. If I crashed the plane and died, then I’d never get to see you again. And that thought scared me more than anything else. But then I remembered what you told me the day you left.  Don’t make your choices based on what you think will bring you back to me. Make the choice because you know it’s the right thing to do. And I knew at that moment that this was exactly what you had been talking about. So… I grabbed onto my faith and plunged into the ice.

“When I woke up in 2012… I was terrified that I had overshot the timeline and missed my opportunity to be with you. Then the battle of New York happened and suddenly I had bigger problems to deal with. When I got assigned to the DC SHIELD office, as soon as I got my credentials, you were the first thing I looked up. Imagine my surprise when I found out you’d actually been in New York with me.”

“Like two ships passing in the night,” you comment, watching your fingers draw random patterns against his chest. “I was re-assigned to the LA office after New York.”

“I know. I purchased a plane ticket to California.”

Your heart skips a beat at his admission. “What?”

“Yeah. I flew out there to find you. When I got to the SHIELD base, the director made a big deal about my arrival and wanted to give me a grand tour of the facility. You were training when I first saw you.” You shift up onto your elbow, so you can look down and meet his gaze, eager to hear what he’ll say next. “You were with a guy. Sparring. I could tell you both were pretty friendly with each other. The way you fought was more teasing than actual combat training and whenever he pinned you to the mat, you would laugh. From where I was standing, it looked like you were flirting.”

You rack your brain, trying to figure out who he could be talking about. “Was that my old partner?” you question. “The one that was already married?”

Steve purses his lips and scrunches his nose. “And gay… It would take me a few years before figuring that one out.”

“Ugh, Steve!” you groan and flop back down onto his chest. To think you could have been with him even earlier if he hadn’t jumped to conclusions.

“I know,” he agrees with a sigh. “I really shot myself in the foot with that one. But you’d also been younger than I remembered you, so I was pretty sure I hadn’t missed our chance. I flew back to DC and then waited for you to come to me.”

“How the hell did you manage to keep all of this a secret? You suck at lying.” You ask in disbelief.

That gets a laugh out of him. “I honestly have no idea, but I am so glad that I can talk about it with you now.”

“Well, then I guess while we’re on the subject of clearing the air, I also have a confession to make.” Steve looks at you curiously. “I kind of had a ‘klepto’ moment,” you admit.

His brows pull together, “What does that mean?”

You bite your bottom lip and grimace, “I took something that doesn’t belong to me and brought it back through the quantum realm.”

He raises a brow, unsure if he should be amused or disapproving of your actions. “What did you take?”

Pushing yourself back up, you crawl halfway over his body and stretch an arm out to the wheeling table by his bed where all of your friends have put flowers and little trinkets to express their well wishes. Steve grabs onto your hips to make sure you don’t fall out of the bed as you drag the table a little closer. Plucking an object off the table, you settle back against Steve’s side and hand it to him.

“Vic…” even with just the one syllable, you can hear him choking up.

“Our last morning at the camp, you left to take a shower and your suitcase was just sitting there. Open. I saw where you had tucked it, and I don’t really know why, but I took it. I knew that when you woke up in 2012, anything that hadn’t been with you on that plane had been lost forever. I just… I wanted you to have them back.”

He stares down at the picture frame for a long time, unblinking.

“Are you mad…?” you ask hesitantly.

He finally blinks and a single tear travels down his cheek. “I never thought I’d see this again,” he says quietly. As you reach to wipe away his tear, his gaze lifts to yours. “Thank you,” he tells you, his voice filled with so much love you can feel it.

You smile tenderly back, rubbing your thumb gently against his cheek. “They would have been so proud of you.”

He swallows thickly and you have to wipe another tear from his cheek. “My Ma would have loved you.”

You lean your head down to rest your forehead against his. He takes a moment to process through his emotions before tilting his face forward to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. You release a content hum and fall into the kiss. This kiss feels a little different somehow. It’s pure and clarifying. It wipes away all the pain and stress you’ve felt over the last two weeks. It mends the cracks in your heart that formed when you had to leave him in 1943. You made it back. The serum worked. He’s alive and speeding down the road to recovery.

When you pull back, you’re crying again, because your heart is just so full that there’s nowhere left for your emotions to go. “I love you,” you whisper wetly against his lips.

He looks back and gives you the sweetest smile, “I love you too, Vic.” You help him put the picture of his parents back on the side table before settling against his side once again. “Okay, reunion sex first, but then we’re getting married like immediately after,” he comments.

You grin wide and release a laugh at his words. “Do I get a say in any of this?”

His arm tightens where it’s wrapped around your waist. “Only if you plan on saying yes.”

“Normally you’re supposed to ask these kinds of things,” you tease. As if there was any other option.

“I am way past the point of asking,” he huffs. “Would have done it years ago, if someone hadn’t told me in 1943 that we weren’t married yet!”

“What was I supposed to say?!” You ask, wanting to laugh again. You can’t believe that this is your first argument after coming back.

“You were supposed to say that I married the shit out of you the second I saw you again! Maybe then, I would have tossed you over my shoulder and taken you for myself in California.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” you giggle at his pouting face.

“Say you’ll marry me, or things are about to get a whole lot more ridiculous. I will toss you over my shoulder and go right now,” he threatens, but the twitch at the corner of his mouth is giving him away. 

“Yes, you stubborn idiot. I will let you marry the shit out of me.”

He shoots you a smug grin before his laughter starts to break through. “What happened to stubborn jerk?”

“You’ve been promoted for suggesting we should get married while you’re still hooked into an IV bag and I haven’t slept in 80 years.”

He looks over his shoulder up at the IV that’s still slowly administering fluids and the antidote into his system. “I can bring the IV stand with us and you can nap on the way. It’ll be great.”

You laugh at the goofy grin plastered across his mouth. “Good luck with that.”

If possible, his grin widens even further. “I don’t need luck. All I need is my Victory.”

-

The End

[heart-wit-strength]

Lean on Me -Amphibia Oneshot

'Sometimes in our lives, we all have pain, we all have sorrow, but if we're wise we know that there's always tomorrow.'

*Following the ending of 'Marcy At The Gates'*

Because I just wanted to write Anne and Marcy being cute without, y'know, dying for once. My first Amphibia fic so no, it's not that good, but well, I tried. Here ya' go @milkshakekitty ❤️

––

Anne smiled warmly as she clutched onto Marcy’s hand as they swiped through the pictures, she had to catch her up with all the adventures they had in Amphibia without wasting any time. “Here’s me and Sprig by the lake. There was a snake that tried to eat us.” Anne commented. “Oh, oh, and here’s us running from a centipede that-”

“Let me guess, tried to eat you?”

Anne gasped, mouth agape in astonishment. “How did you know?”

Marcy giggled to herself. “Duh. This is Amphibia. What do you expect?” they swipe through some more pictures. “Wow, Anne. You and Sprig really seem really close, huh.” Anne blushed, twirling a strand of her hair in her finger.

“You could say. He’s…kinda the reason I've really been able to keep going, especially ever since separating with you guys, life’s been hard.” Anne admitted. “Feels like yesterday when I was absolutely freaked out was when I found myself stranded in the woods of Wartwood all alone. I’m gonna be honest with you, Mar-Mar, eating bugs ain't my favorite thing ever, or fighting tax toads…and stuff but I’ve come to think I’ve somewhat grown on this place and it’s because of Sprig and the Plantars.”

Marcy joyful smirk couldn’t help but fade slightly at the sound of all the things Anne had been through. “Yeah, I…can't disagree with that.” She muttered, looking away and pulling a strand of her hair behind her ear. “The Plantars really are sweet. And the little frog dude? He seems quite protective of you, no wonder you mean a lot to him.”

“Uh, yeah. I’m sorry for all the…suspicion Sprig had on you earlier. I told him it was kinda uncalled-for, but a lot of stuff has happened and…”

“Oh please. I don’t mind at all. Believe me, I’ve seen a lot worse phases of skepticism in several rural civilizations I visited. Your friend seems a lot more open.”

Anne frowned, could she really blame Sprig though? Her other friend had almost killed him, and initially Hop Pop too. It just felt a bit uneasy having to tell Marcy that he had thought she was gonna be the same, what would she think? She didn't want Marcy to also hate her best friend like the other one did. Anne vaguely swiped through another picture on her phone, and what came up was her other friend. Anne’s didn't acknowledge herself holding her breath and frown at the sight of the blond girl on her phone screen.

“No way! Is that when you and Sasha reunited?” Marcy exclaimed with excitement, pushing her face between Anne and the phone screen, the picture of Anne and Sasha smiling and posing at the camera. “Heh, the armor suits her. Is that a Toad army uniform? She looks so different.” Anne rolled her eyes.

“She does.” Anne shoved the phone back into her pocket and stood up, looking into the distance, clutching the tip of her sleeve. “Literally. She’s changed.” Marcy, with a look of uncertainty, approached her.

“You said you had you had a fight, didn't you? But see, Anne…you know Sasha, we’ve known each other since we were kids, that’s the way she’s always been. Sure, she’s got a bit of temper, but I’m sure she’s still our friend. No matter what.”

‘She’s our friend. No matter what she does.’ The words echoed in her mind. ‘Nothing can change that.’That’s the one thing that had kept Anne bounded all these years. She was so busy making sure Sasha got away with all the trouble she was too blind to figured it out whatever she was doing with them was anything but friendship. All for they just couldn’t risk her somehow not wanting to be their friend anymore, for that would be the end of it all.

Wouldn’t it?

“She tried to kill my family, Marbles.” Anne’s tone cracked. Marcy’s eyes wide opened, stunned.

“She what? No way,”

Anne sniffed. “She tried to hurt Sprig, and Hop Pop. She’s far from justified. It’s too late, it’s time she takes responsibility of her actions. She’s way past treating us like we need her to make our decisions for us. Acting like…she can do whatever she wants because we just can't risk losing her because she convinced us that we’re NOTHING without her.” She panted, her face going red in exhaustion. Marcy stared silently at her friend with wide eyes. Anne breathed out and smiled warmly, looking into her eyes. “Well, we’re not. You and I are here, without her, doing just fine. The Plantars helped me make my way here to find you, we don’t need her to lead us. Dang, look how far you’ve come, Mar-Mar, you’re the literal hero of Newtopia and all, you bet Sasha would’ve never guessed that to come from the School’s science nerd, am I right?”

“Aw, quit it, Anna-Banana.” Marcy punched her playfully with a blush. Anne rubbed her arm and elbowed her with a smile. “How about we go for a walk? Bet that’d help. I know the perfect spot, c’mon, Anne!” Anne had barely processed anything Marcy had said yet before she was grasped by the arm and yanked along by her. After a moment of blindly letting herself be hauled along, when Marcy finally stopped Anne was marveled at the scene before her. What they stood upon was a hill, from where all of Newtopia could be seen. “Whoa.” Was all Anne could say, “That…sure is something, dude.”

“I know, RIGHT?! This is the most fun spot of the city next to the library, check this out!” Without a warning, Marcy hopped off her feet and let herself roll down the shimmering cool grass. “Anne, look I’m a Springroll!” Anne couldn’t help but chuckle at this until she noticed that Marcy was going to rolled herself right into a giant rock.

“Rock! Marcy, rock!” She shouted.

“I know! I rock at this!”

“NO! Marcy, look out!” Anne didn't acknowledge herself diving down and grabbing the girl before she’d crash herself. Anne panted heavily, holding her close. Marcy grinned.

“Heh, I get carried away sometimes. Thanks, Anna-Banana.” Anne sighed deeply and got to her feet, dusting herself.

“Sometimes. Pfft, sure. You can do me a great favor by being careful for five minutes for frog’s sake.” She retorted. Marcy blinked, wondering if she wasn’t being a help. Nah, there was no way for that to be, she knew how to cheer up her friend. Just as Anne began walking away, Marcy grabbed her hand and pulled her down. “Marbles, what are you…? AAAA-” she screamed as the two rolled further down the hill. “MARCY!”

“Isn't this cool?!” Marcy laughed as she gripped on her tight. When they stopped, Anne held her spinning head.

“Dude, what the frog?!” She complained, rubbing her head as Marcy continued to grin. “That was insane.”

“Insane and fun!”

“Pfft, yeah.” Anne couldn’t help but chuckle, slightly punching her shoulder. “Don’t do that again.” She looked up at the sky full of stars, sighing to herself. Funny how it was only her and Marcy now, without Sasha telling them what to do, just like back in…kindergarten? Well, that was quite long ago.

And surprisingly for all, she was actually feeling…good? It was true she always felt a lot liberated around her. As Anne had described to Sprig earlier, Marcy was indeed harmless. It was almost astonishing how she was totally living the moment and barely seemed concerned about everything that had been going on. How long they had been away from their parents, and haven’t seen each other in months until now, how Sasha tried to kill her family…

She couldn’t keep herself from remembering the tearful look in the girl’s eyes during their last encounter. ‘Hey, Anne?’ The last words from Sasha echoed in her mind again. ‘Maybe you’re better off without me.’ And in a blink of an eye, feeling her hold on Sasha’s hand loosening and having to see her former friend nearly fell to her doom.

Anne shook her head. No, that wasn’t her fault. There was no way it being her fault that Sasha rejected the help, rejected her, something she had always been afraid of. But somethings were inevitable, and in the end they were alright, she was okay and Sasha had…other people to stand by her, to follow her lead rather gladly.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Marcy spoke up, who was relaxing down on the grass.

“I often like coming out here to read. It actually feels pretty great out here, heh. Andrias prefer to join me sometimes, we had SO much fun together. Gosh, I LOVE this place!” She lied on her back, whirling her arms and legs, and enjoying the feel of the soft grass beneath them. She suddenly gasped and sat back up, eyes shining and a dreamy look on her face. “Y’know what I just came up with? What if…we made a hideout here? Brilliant idea. If we use the correct type of wood according to the air moisture, but wait we also need to bug-proof this place, we could try-” She stopped when we noticed Anne zoned out. “You okay there?”

“Huh? Yeah, and yeah we should totally do that.” Anne said, sitting down beside her, one arm wrapped around herself.

“Are ya’ cold?” Marcy asked with concern.

“Huh, no, it’s not that. I’m just-”

“Aw shucks! I should’ve known it! You always get a cold out in the night. Here, have this before you go all sneezy.” Marcy proceeded to take off her cape.

“No, Mar-Mar, really, I’m-” Anne was interrupted by her own sneeze. “…fine.”

“You’re not, Sneezy.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Heh. You know? It could be a sign someone is thinking about you.” Marcy smirked, tapping her chin.

“Yes, I know that, Marcy.” Anne replied, flushed and rubbing her itchy nose. “But I think I’m just cold.”

Marcy shrugged. “Eh, anyway. Here, you can have this. Don’t worry, it’s not on fire…yet.” she joked as she wrapped the cape around her shoulder. “Remember when we used to go to the café after classes, you always ordered hot chocolate while me and Sasha went for soda. Even then, you get sneezy. You always have it colder than us.” Anne blushed as she curled up.

“Thanks, Marcy.”

“About Sash, Anne, all of that sounds real rough, hard to believe actually, I never thought she’d…go that far.” She sounded much disappointed by the finish.

Anne sneezed again. “I’m not even surprised at this point. She’s always been a jerk, we were just too blind to notice.”

Marcy leaned back, fiddling the tip of her toes. “I…kinda always thought she was like the protector of the group, and that she’d always look out for us.”

“She likes to show me that I’m the weakling,” Anne’s voice cracked. “So that she’d feel better about herself. That’s why she tried to kill Sprig, he has been the first to make me realize that I was friends with a jerk. I guess that’s it, all she cares to have is control.”

Marcy’s eyes moved back and forth for a moment before she gently placed a hand on Anne’s shoulder who just sat there, hugging her knees. She felt a bit guilty about the fact that despite always being there, she had never been the one to realize what Anne had been going through, that Sasha was basically pushing her around. Maybe if she even did, there wasn’t much she could do to change it.

“Hey, you ain't a weakling to me. Pfft- Yeah sure, Sasha always liked to show off her strength, I rolled with it because it seemed like the only thing she was ever into. But hey, you know how much you look out for me.” She lifted Anne’s chin. “Even back in that cave today? You looked out for me. My point is, you’re so much more than you think, Anne. We might need her on our way back home, we aren’t gonna leave her behind. But whether or not she is there, you know you matter so much to everyone. You’ve got me, you’ve got the Plantars, and Sprig; it’s gonna be okay.”

Anne wiped her watery eyes with a smile, Marcy blinked as Anne embraced her into a hug, she smiled and hugged back. There was a moment of silence between them while they hugged until suddenly, Marcy sneezed.

“Huh, wonder who’s thinking about me?” She remarked, wiping her nose.

“Perhaps the librarian back home, for all the books you didn't return.” Anne commented sarcastically. Marcy narrowed her eyes and elbowed her. Anne shook it off with a chuckle and wrapped the other end of the cape around Marcy’s shoulder. “There. Now you won't get all sneezy either.” Marcy rolled her eyes with a smile. Anne leaned her head against hers, staring up at the stary sky, spotting a shooting star passing by.

“I don’t ever want to lose you again, Mar-Mar.”

“Me neither.”

[sokkas-honour]

dream boy: part 3 - sokka x reader

pairing: sokka x fem!reader

request: part 3 was requested by @missmorosis

wc: 2.7k

notes: i’m terribly sorry if it may seemed a bit rushed or not exactly consistent but i personally liked the way it ended. also this is the final part, i might make an epilogue if i actually finish everything i need to do.

part one | part one 1/2 | part two

sokka wasn’t able to see you until monday, purposefully ignoring all the texts from yours friends, not wanting to know if sokka actually told them what had happened or if he had decided to keep it to himself, either way, you were better off just staying off your phone until school started. you only unlocked your phone to text zuko back and even then you didn't always have the courage to do so.

you had made sure to wake up early in order to not cross paths with the watertribe boy, his sibling or just any of your friends until you absolutely had to, preferring to simply distance yourself from the others. of course you couldn't avoid them forever, you had over half of your classes with at least one of them, two of those being with sokka, the guy who you especially didn't want to see, history and gym. gym would be easy to avoid him in, you had become acquaintances with this lovely girl called jin, whom you also shared your math class with, you could just spend the whole period with her and avoid him. your real problem was going to be history. your teacher, mister kuzon, had informed the class that there would be a group project on any cultural aspect from the water tribe, and he had chosen the groups. the chance of you actually being paired with sokka was miniscule but the universe hadn’t seemed to be going easy on you lately.

and much to your dismay, the universe was in fact against you. when your history teacher’s voice had posted the groups, your heart had started racing as you approached the board to see the pairs, your heart was racing in fear and it dropped when you saw the name y/n next to sokka.

after being asked to sit next to your partner to get started, you stayed silent as you plopped down on the chair next to the boy who you were still trying to avoid, staying silent and keeping your eyes in front of you.

“are you going to work with me or is it going to be a silent treatment the whole time.” he questioned, turning to face you, arm hooked around the back of his chair as he looked at you desperately for any sign of you acknowledging his presence.

“i was thinking we could talk about the differences in the cuisine in the north and south.” you mumbled, chin on your hand as you kept your gaze on the board in front of you, ignoring the boy who was still searching for an answer.

“yeah, sounds good.” sokka sighed, giving up on receiving a straight answer from you. he turned back in his seat, disappointment radiating off of him, making you bite your lip in guilt. you shot him a glance from the corner of your eye as you saw him discreetly take his phone out to open the notes app but before you could see what he was typing he turned to face you, catching you right in the act.

“uh, saturday at your place?” seemed like the only logical way out of the embarrassing situation you had just walked into, still not breaking the staring between the two of you. you felt your heart speed up a bit at the extended eye contact, not having looked into his blue eyes in awhile, the last time being before you stormed out of his house after your confession.

“sounds good.” he offered you a small smile, happy to see that your attempt at a cold shoulder was somewhat backfiring, knowing that you couldn't avoid him forever. he let the stare linger a bit before turning his attention back to his phone and you quickly snapped back to your notes taken during the class. thanking yourself for not letting the stupid smile heat your cheeks up, now all you had to do was finish the class with a not so uncomfortable silence between the two of you.

the bell didn't take too long to ring before you had to move onto your next class which was the one you detested the most, science. courage surged through you as you waved goodbye to sokka, earning a bright smile back from the boy before you dashed out of the class. to anyone, that might have seemed rather pointless that you felt as proud as you did, a wave goodbye was considered an act of politeness, but that had been the first time you had really addressed sokka in any way since the unplanned confession. he had probably realised that as well, giving a reason for the sudden bright smile on his features.

you practically sprinted towards your science classroom, holding your books tightly to your chest to not let them fly out of your grip. you hoped zuko was already there, knowing he’d want to hear the rather big step you’d just taken in repairing your friendship with your childhood friend. you were surprised that the thought of slowly getting over him in order to just be friends had slipped your mind, remembering that this morning you didn't want anything to have to do with him for the rest of your life, wanting to just stay away from him to not ignite anything in you, but you were slowly realising it was ridiculous to throw away the friendship for your unrequited crush. you two may not be as close as before but you could still stay friends, you could still hangout with him without feeling like your heart was shattering every moment you’d meet his beautiful ocean eyes.

“zuko!” you called for him as soon as you spotted the back of his black haired head, whipping his head around to greet you with a grin, happy that you weren't ignoring him like he thought you might, considering your answers to his texts were rather sporadic and vague.

“happy to see you’re alive y/n.” he joked as soon as you caught up with him, both of you walking at the same height as you entered the room, taking a seat next to each other as you always did, even when the two of you werent as close as you were now.

“i think i’m ready to fully start moving on.” you announced, taking a deep breath before letting him know of your future plans, determination in yours eyes and tone as you felt set to move on from your crush.

“really? i'm surprised it didn't take longer.” his eyes grew a bit at your proclamation, not expecting to hear you say those words this early, thinking he’d have to see you distance yourself from everyone for weeks but it only took a day or two, making him slightly septic at how long you would actually last with your new resolution but nonetheless he was proud of you.

“yeah well i’m kind of stuck with sokka for a history project and i figured might as well start moving on from him. i still want to be friends with him.” you explained, taking your science homework out so you were prepared whenever the teacher would come on in.

“i’m proud of you y/n, its very mature of you.” he placed his hand on your shoulder, sincerity in his tone lifting your spirits up at the thought of repairing whatever damage you might’ve caused and the thought of the damage you were avoiding by taking action now instead of later.

saturday rolled around and you had managed to have some sort of small talk with sokka during your classes, still deciding to spend your lunch period with jin instead of your usual friends but it was a start to where you thought you would be saturday after you left. you had stopped eating with your friends a little over a week ago, opting to spend time with the lovely girl from your math class. you had had trouble sleeping friday night, scared of going to sokka’s house and falling back to where you started, back to square one, back in love with a friend who was already taken by a lovely girl.

your feet felt rather heavy as you walked down the familiar path to his house, bag with a your notebook and history course around your shoulder as you retraced the steps you had followed almost everyday during that particular summer, always going to sokka’s house to entertain yourself while school was out.

you first lingered in the air above the door for a couple of seconds, taking a deeo breath in to calm your nerves before you finally knocked. it didnt take long before it was opened, sokka with an eager smile on his lips was who greeted you behind the door.

“finally, you shouldve been here an hour ago!” he lamented jokingly as he moved out of the way to let you in, causing you to roll your eyes at how dramatic your friend was.

“sokka, im five minutes late.” you deadpanned, hastily taking your shoes off, leaning against a nearby wall for support.

“exactly!” he exclaimed, his voice cracking slightly and suddenly you felt as though nothing ever happened, as if your feelings had never come to make you want to change whatever relationship you had with him, simply feeling as though the two of you were just friends.

“really sokka? dont you reme,ber when i waited an hour for you outside in the freezing cold in the woods so we could make a campfire together? or that time where we were late in eight grade because someone accidentally put on ripped pants? or-”

“alright i get it.” he held his hands up in defeat at your inquisitive look, knowing you were only joking around with him to make him feel slightly guilty for all the times he had been late.

“my dad made seaweed noodles for us to eat while we work, hope thats okay.” shoving his hands in his pockets, waiting to see you reaction at the mention of one of your favorite dishes that he’d always insist his father to make you whenever you’d come by.

“no way!” you dashed into the kitchen, leaving sokka by himself at the entrance, surprised at how fast the two of you had seemed to ease back into things and some part of it seemed to good to be true but he was happy to have you back.

“wait for me!” he called for you, spending slightly to join you. a reminiscent smile on his lips as he watched you excitedly poor yourself a bowl, knowing where everything in the hous ewas from it practically being a second home for you during all those years.

“you’ll have to say thank you to hakoda.” you told him as you eyed the noodles, your stomach rumbling as you brought it to the table, it had been too long since you had eaten his father’s cooking.

“y/n, you havent even eaten it yet, how do you know its good?” he laughed as he watched you carefully bring the bowl to the dinner table, trying to get to it as fast as you could but still making sure to not let any of the broth spill out.

“because your dad’s seaweed noodles are the best!” you defended your previous statements, taking a seat as you waited for sokka to make his own bowl and bring chopsticks for the both of you. the watertribe boy nodded, slightly mocking you in his own playful way. while you waited for him to rejoin you, you took out the notebook you used for your history notes and grabbed a pen that was sitting on the table.

you scribbled down the title of your project and tapped your pen, impatient waiting to be able to dig into your steaming hot dish.

“have any ideas for the presentation?” sokka startled you slightly, coming from behind you to lean over your shoulde to see if you had written anything but he was met with a blank page.

“no, now get me my chopsticks idioy.” you shoved his head away, earning a protestful ‘hey’ from him as your brought your hand back to wram themselvbes on the bowl.

“here.” he placed the chopsticks next to the bowl before making his way around the table to sit in front of you, slowly blowing on his soup to cool it down.

“took you long enough.” you teased before you grabbed them to pick up some of the noodles, cooling them off with your breath before shoving some of it into your mouth. sokka started laughing at how quickly you engulfed the noodles that his father had spent the morning making.

you flipped him off, not caring at how ‘unlady like’ you might’ve looked but it had been forever since you had tasted his father’s seaweed noodles, during winter it was a staple food for whenever you would spend the night but since the weather had gotten warmer and you had grown more distant, it had been a hot minute since you had a traditional dish of the southern water tribe, something you’d most definitely use in your comparison of the different cuisines.

“before we start, i wanted to talk to you about something.” sokka brought his hand down, deciding not to eat just yet but rather address the elephant in the room.

“yeah?” you knew where this was going so you finished chewing what was in your mouth and swallowed, keeping your eyes on the food as you wiated for sokka’s question.

“so where do we stand, us? i mean two days ago you stormed off, after weeks of us not actually talking and now it feels like everything is fine. i just want to make sure that you’re okay.” you took a deep breath in, knowing this was coming, knowing you had to confront your feelings upfront now and not just push whatever you were feeling down, hoping it didnt blow over one day.

“if im being honest sokka, i like you, still, but i want us to be friends. im happy to see that suki makes you happy, but it might take some time for me to get over you so we might not ever be as close as before for my own sake but im willing to try my hardest to fix anything i mightve broken in the last couple of weeks. because i love having you as a friend and no matter how much it wouldve hurt to be with you before, i still missed my best friend.” you slowly lifted your head up, pouring out what was your mind without any filter, letting him know where you stood, sincerity written on your features as you wiated to see sokka’s reaction.

“that sounds good, whatever works for you. just happy i dont have to lose my oldest friend” he finally answered after silence settled between the two of you, letting your words settle and let him process your new confession.

you smiled back and then the two of you turned your attention back to the noodles, the two of you practically inhaling the food as the only sound was the muching of the seaweed and the slurping of the soup. a nice moment shared between two friends.

“you know, theres still girl that i just know you’d like.” sokka was the first to speak up, a small tease in his tone as he tried to set you up right after you told him you were trying to move on from him.

“sokka.” you threatened, not wanting him to go down whatever road he was about go down to, you finding it to be the wrong moment to bring this up.

“i’m just saying i have yue’s number if you want it!” he recoiled on his claim, but made sure to name drop the girl he supposedly thought was perfect for you. blood rushed to your cheeks at the mention of his ex girlfriend from middle school, rmebering how beautiful you thought the white haired girl was and how you had a small crush on her while they were dating.

the boy in front of you simply laughed, feeling content at where he now stood with his friend since kindergarten. he was your dream boy, but maybe not in the way you first thought. he was the boy of your dreams but not all dreams need to be romantic.

general taglist: @draqondance @biqherosix @sunnypluto @butterfly-skinnylegend @staygoldsquatchling02 @yuesallura

atla taglist: @welovediaaxx @ilovespideyyy @missmorosis

sokka taglist: @firelady-jay

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

Don’t know if this is feasible, but would you do a crossover between Build and Cherry Magic? Maybe with like Kurosawa and Adachi going over to the cafe for family dinner and they meet the whole squad, not just Sento and Banjou, but Misora, Kazumin, Sawa, and maybe even Gentoku? With the prompt “Why are you staring at me”

Darling, your brain is massive.

15. “Why are you staring at me?”

“How did you find this place?” Yuichi says as they round the corner into the little alley.

“Fujisaki recommended it to me, actually.” Kiyoshi grins up at him. “Apparently she and a couple of her girlfriends like to go here sometimes. She says the coffee’s only ok really, but the pastries are really nice. Here, this is it, Cafe,” he squints at the sign, “Nas--nascita.”

The only other customers inside are a group of people who seem to be friends, clustered around a couple of tables pushed together in one corner. Not wanting to intrude, Yuichi goes to get a table in the opposite corner, and Kiyoshi heads to the counter to order.

The barista’s a middle-aged man with a pork pie hat and tinted glasses who looks like he should be playing jazz at a nightclub, not serving coffee to bored twenty-somethings. He’s cleaning a glass as Kiyoshi approaches, and he glances up, says, “Good afternoon and welcome to Nascita, I’ll be with you in just a--” and then cuts off for apparently no reason.

There’s a long, awkward silence before Kiyoshi says, “Uh, why...why are you staring at me?”

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry, you just.” The barista shakes himself. “You look a great deal like someone I--”

“Hey, do you have a problem with me or something?”

The barista looks past Kiyoshi, frowning, and Kiyoshi himself turns around and nearly runs into...

...himself. Except...different.

The other him is scowling at Yuichi, who’s looking at him wide-eyed. “No, seriously, do I have stuff on my face or something? You’ve been staring at me since you sat down, it’s making me--” He turns towards the counter, nearly runs into Kiyoshi himself, and stops dead. “Uh. Sento?”

Someone else stands up from the cluster of people in the corner and blinks at Kiyoshi several times. “Well, this is unexpected. Banjou, is that you?”

“That’s me. I thought there was only supposed to be one other me.”

“No, uh, I’m me. I’m fairly sure.” Kiyoshi laughs nervously. “Kurosawa, help.”

--

At this point Kiyoshi’s getting the worrying feeling that their new friends might all be insane, which makes it very nearly a relief when Sento, who says he’s a physicist and whose hair has been standing up at the back for most of the conversation thus far, says, “You must think we’re all insane.”

Kiyoshi suppresses a hysterical giggle. “Of course I don’t think you’re. You’re.”

“Oh, no, don’t worry, it wouldn’t be an unreasonable assumption. I mean, we aren’t, I promise there’s a scientific explanation for all of it, it’s just really lengthy and in some places kind of stupid.” Sento peers at him. “You look exactly like him, it’s amazing.”

“Actually pretty sure Banjou’s taller.” That’s the man at the far end of the tables, who speaks with a broad country accent and whose name Kiyoshi vaguely remembers being Kazumi. He keeps looking back and forth between Kiyoshi and his double--Banjou Ryuuga, who’s got red hair and a silk bomber jacket with a dragon on the back, Kiyoshi’s never met someone who looked so much like a comic book character--and sort of gesturing vaguely, as if he’s trying to figure out how tall they are exactly. “By, like, an inch or two.”

“No. He can’t be. Can he?” Sento frowns. “How tall are you, Adachi, if you don’t mind my asking? Strictly for science, of course.”

Next to Kiyoshi, Yuichi seems much more comfortable. In fact, he’s practically giving an impromptu sales pitch to Banjou and Sento’s friend Sawa, who’s a journalist, and who’s listening to him talk about Toyokawa’s new organizational tools with unfeigned interest. Next to her is the cafe owner’s daughter, Misora, who Kiyoshi feels like he recognizes from an idol video he saw Rokkaku watching the other day, although she’s dressed much more simply. She seems less interested in planners than her friend, and after a moment she turns to him and says, “If Sento keeps getting on your case just elbow him or something, he’s always like this.”

Kiyoshi feels his face go red. “No, no, it’s fine.”

“You know,” Banjou says around a mouthful of pastry, “under the circumstances I feel like this worked out pretty well.”

Kiyoshi blinks. “What did?”

“This whole double-whatsit thing. The Swedish word Sento used before.”

“Doppelganger.” Sento rolls his eyes. “And it’s German.”

“Yeah, that one. I mean, it could definitely be way worse. I mean, there’s the other actual me, the one with the same name, but apart from that you seem cool? Like, I’d rather share a face with an office worker than, I don’t know, a cannibal serial killer or something.”

“Was that...likely? I don’t think another version of me would be a cannibal serial killer...”

“Me neither, but you never know, yeah?”

“I mean,” Kiyoshi says, frowning absently into space, “I wouldn’t have expected to have the same face as someone who does shoot fighting, that’s sort of a surprise. Not a bad one, though.”

“Yeah, this isn’t so bad.” Banjou pauses, blinks, and then stands up. “I’m gonna be right back. Hey, babe, if Gentoku shows up before I’m back tell him I said why the hell is he late, I thought politics guys were supposed to be on time for stuff.”

“I’m not telling him that.” Sento leans his face up for a light, brushing kiss, and then Banjou’s off in the direction of the bathroom. “Besides,” called after his retreating back, “you know Kazumi’s going to say it anyway.”

Kiyoshi stares in his direction for a moment, looks back at Sento, and, suddenly, smiles. So we’ve got that in common.

The bell at the cafe door rings, and Kazumi lurches upright in his chair with an abrupt, bright smile and waves. “Hey, Beardy, you’re late! I thought politicians were supposed to be on time for shit!”

At Kiyoshi’s elbow, Yuichi says, weakly, “I’m sorry, Ms. Takigawa, is that the prime minister’s son?”

Kiyoshi looks up in alarm at--the prime minister’s son, who’s wearing a black leather jacket which he opens to reveal a t-shirt that reads:

I HAD TO PLAY TENNIS WITH THE BRAZILIAN AMBASSADOR’S DAUGHTER

Kazumi snorts. “Oh, poor you, you had to play tennis.”

“Fuck you too, Potato, just because you can--I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize we had compa--Banjou?” The prime minister’s son blinks several times and then shakes his head. “Did Banjou dye his hair?”

“No, I’m,” Kiyoshi scratches the back of his head, “I’m Adachi, hello.”

Sento beams up at the prime minister’s son as Kiyoshi stifles a nervous giggle and Yuichi shakes himself. “They have the same face, it’s very exciting.”

[skellebonez]

What about prompt #3 with the Macaque/Tang pairing? That one art is getting me REALLY curious about what their potential dynamic would be like

I had an idea a long while ago about what could happen to Macaque after episode 9, and I have my Deadpool-seque immortality HC for him as well, so I’m combining those ideas and setting this between episodes 9-10 since we don’t know how long MK was training with Wukong after their fight. This is also very different from how I would write them if they met outside of this very specific circumstance.

Warning: vague descriptions of his injuries, descriptions of his healing abilities, mentions of emotional manipulation in canon (none to Tang himself so you don't have to worry about that here).

I’ve been waiting to get to know you from the moment I first saw you.

There were worse positions that Six-Eared Macaque could have landed himself in, especially after his fight with Sun Wukong’s successor, so all things considered... the immortal monkey was incredibly lucky at the moment.

He was in a very soft bed, firm enough to not give too much when he moved but laid on top of extra plush bedding now that he wasn’t bleeding as much as he had been it was much more comfortable. Half of his body was still coated in bandages, though they were more makeshift casts wrapped around items to keep his limbs still than anything else at this point.

Only his right arm and head had managed to make it out mostly unscathed, both fully healed by now. This meant he wasn’t completely unable to entertain himself, a thing called an “e-reader” held in his hand. And as the door to the house he was in opened he thought about his luck.

There was no way this man didn’t know who he was when he found Macaque. Even if the Kid managed to be taken in, apparently his tale hadn’t been completely lost. This house, what little he saw of it when dragged inside and through the halls, was filled with books and art of the Journey. Not everywhere, but just enough to be noticeable. And the recognition on the man’s face when he found him, laying in the rain soaked ground and covered in blood and mud and looking like death itself was instantaneous.

And yet, despite that... and despite the pictures of the Monkey Kid himself he saw on the walls...

“Macaque, you’re awake,” the man spoke, voice still soft and tentative but with a layer of genuine relief and excitement under it. His name was Tang. “I hope you’re feeling as well as you could be.”

Macaque took note of the fact that he didn’t say “better” or just “well” as he lowered the e-reader, bring pulled from the genre known as science-fiction. “As well as he could be”. He seemed mindful of both his condition and his abilities at all times.

“I suppose you could say that,” He said evenly, watching as Tang prepared some kind of medicine for him. He never bothered asking what it was, just some kind of pills and ointment that numbed him enough to make the pain manageable. “I take it nothing happened today.”

It felt odd. Talking like this. He hadn’t just talked to someone in centuries, not really. But what was there to lie about here? Tang knew that he had manipulated the Kid, he said as much to him when he woke. Tang knew of his history, knew who he was and was apparently angry that he hadn’t elaborated on the fact he could have been the same Macaque from the story and not another one (given the story greatly exaggerated his death... or, well, exaggerated that he had stayed dead).

Tang knew he was evil. Knew that he hurt someone he cared about. Knew that he would have been fine eventually if he left him outside, if in a great deal more pain. So why take him in? Why wash his wounds? Why dress them? Why feed him and give him things to entertain him through his bedridden days? Why talk to him, why ask him about the accuracy of the stories?

He was at first annoyed by all his questions but after a day he had given in and just talked and... and he never realized how much he missed just talking to someone. But he still didn’t know why.

He never built up anything to ask. Tang never explained. It lingered between them like a soft breeze, always there and threatening to grow strong. But not causing any disturbance, not yet.

“No, but there are rumors about something going on with the Demon Bull King...” Tang trailed off, genuine worry peppering his tone. It wasn’t as if Macaque was particularly interested or as if he could actually do anything with the state of his healing as it was... but something about that tone made something sink in his chest and he didn’t like that.

Tang was... different, from most humans he had met. Not entirely unique, he wasn’t that different from others, but still. It had been a long time since he met someone who would talk back to him and tell him to “shut up and let me help you”. Reprimand him, him, for trying to leave the bed before his bones reset. Who took his sass with an unbelieving raised eyebrow and a “yes, I totally buy that” and even had the gall to toss food like pieces of candy into his open mouth when Macaque went on an angry rant just because he could. He knew all about him already and he didn’t take any of his bullshit.

He hated to admit it... but he didn’t hate this human. Tang. He didn’t hate Tang.

Neither said anything as Tang handed him the pills, pain killers he called them, and water once Macaque put them in his mouth. Neither said anything as Tang tested the spots on his arms and legs where there were breaks, his ribs long since beating them both to healing, testing to see exactly where anything needed to be reset or rewrapped due to Macaque’s movements in his sleep.

It had been a long week and a half... Macaque almost didn’t want them to heal.

Healing meant he would have to...

“At the rate you’re going,” Tang started with a mirthful laugh, looking equal parts happy and sad. “You’ll be out of here by the end of the week.

Macaque said nothing, setting aside his water and scowling for a moment. He mulled the thought he just had in over in his mind before deciding that... if Tang had let him stay this long... he may as well say it. It wasn’t like it would change anything except whether or not he was happy when he left.

“What if I don’t want to?”

Tang’s head shot up from where he was inspecting his arm, face one of shock and confusion and... if Macaque looked deep enough into his eyes, he could swear he saw something akin to hope that he was being serious.

So he took a chance.

He lifted his good arm and placed his hand on the back of Tang’s head, pulling him closer slowly as he waited for him to fight back or say something. But Tang didn’t. He let the demon pull him closer and closer until his nose touched Macaque’s and Macaque stopped... and Tang moved forward and pressed their lips together.

Macaque knew then and there that he had made a mistake and both of them would hurt when he left the second a fire lit in his chest and his eyes closed and the kiss deepened.

The next day he finally asked Tang why he had given him a chance.

"I’ve been waiting to get to know you from the moment I first saw you."

(Tang was right. Macaque was ready to leave by the end of the week. So he did, in the midst of the chaos of the Demon Bull King taking everything over. Tang hadn’t come back one day and he watched the news from the house well outside the city. He stayed around outside, just long enough to watch Tang come home, watch him find an empty made bed, watched him grab the e-reader he had given Macaque and slam it into the wall and yell about how stupid he had had been to fall for the demon monkey. How he should have known he would leave.

Macaque left before he allowed himself to actually feel regret and comfort the man who had taken him in and helped him and made him feel something more than hatred and the rush of victory for the first time in centuries.

They both mourned a relationship they never had.

And maybe one day Tang came home to sweets and other gifts after the Lunar New Year Festival.

And maybe one day a dark furred monkey mistaken for Sun Wukong helped a certain Monkie Kid from the shadows because he remembered the sad look his father figure held when he watched him talk about him being hurt.

Maybe one day Macaque returned, angry and confused due to plans unable to be finished as he time after time remembered the human who helped him heal in more ways than physically over 2 weeks and that healing, while not enough to change him then, had lead to him second guessing his decisions for the months to come.

Maybe Macaque would ask for a second chance, gruff and hating every moment that he had to be nice to anyone else who wasn't Tang. But begrudgingly trying. For Tang and no one else.

Maybe.

Or maybe not.

Who am I to tell.)

[thexgrayxlady]

Notes: This is a purely self-indulgent and very lighthearted AU and if I’m the only one who is enjoying themselves with it, that’s all that really matters. TBCH I’m not sure where I’m going with it and I know this isn’t very good or perfectly in character, but I’m having a good time and it’s been a long time since I’ve written anything, so I’m okay with it if I’m just writing a messy little crash into hello.

The Universe Won’t Wait for You

Outside the ruined temple, dark clouds gathered and howling winds carried the metallic tang of summer storms. Heady incense drifted from inside, where the flicker of braziers cast statues of forgotten gods in stark chiaroscuro. Yet, under the wind and crackle of flames, the air hung still and silent, charged with the promise of lightning.

The jungle crept up around the ancient stones. Gnarled vines threatened to drag the crumbling archway back into its depths. Fragments of cracked and chipping mosaics peered through the leaves, their tiles scattered across the floor with the trees’ detritus.

The roof had long since caved in and the once gilt friezes lining the main hall were now washed almost smooth. The faceless figures posed in the uncanny silence, leading the way to the sanctuary.

At the altar, a group of very annoyed people stood over the unconscious leader of a dragon cult and his scattered cards, having narrowly averted the end of the world for the third time in as many months. The timing was inconvenient for everybody involved and it was universally agreed upon that it would have been better if these assholes had waited until next weekend to try and destroy the world.

“So if we beat the megalomaniac of the week, why isn’t the portal going away?” Tea asked, vaguely gesturing to the swirling silvery distortion above the altar.

“I keep telling you nerds it’s not a portal.” Although against his will and his better judgement, the geek squad had grown on Seto Kaiba like E. coli on room temperature meat, he would still sooner saw off his own hands with a rusty spoon than admit it.

“We could always leave it alone,” Bakura said, disdainfully looking over one of the cultist’s discarded scrolls before rerolling it. “His Latin was terrible. It probably won’t do anything.”

“It won’t do anything because it’s a not a portal.” Their group would have it found it infinitely more worrying if he didn’t insist that the latest near apocalypse had a logical explanation. As of late, he’d settled on saying that anything he couldn’t immediately explain wasn’t magic, just science they didn’t understand yet. Everyone might have appreciated this a bit more if not for how often they had to deal with the fallout of his attempts to understand the science. “Watch.”

He picked up one of the scattered cards (rare, but only good for niche dragon decks and he would notadmit that he would have found this clown’s cards useful) and tossed it towards the floating mass. It passed through without incident and collided with the back wall.

“Wheeler could make something more convincing.” He rolled his eyes. This entire escapade had been a nuisance. He still wasn’t sure how he’d been talked into it. The others certainly hadn’t just mentioned that they needed a ride.

“Yeah, these guys tried to take our dragons cards and dragged us out here to show us some crappy holograms,” Joey replied.

“You would believe a bunch of delusional lunatics.”

Yugi paused checking on the cult leader and decided to head this off before it became serious.

“Guys, stop fighting!” he said, his voice quiet and gentle, yet brokering very little argument. When he realized that Kaiba was gearing up for an argument, he added, “You’re wasting time and the sooner we figure this thing out, the sooner we can leave.”

“Whatever,” he said, turning dramatically, letting his coat flare behind him. “I’m going to figure out what’s going on because some of us have jobs to get back to.”

“You’re self-employed!” the blond shot after him.

While he examined a pile of rubble on the far wall for a projector or an off switch, the others looked over the altar and scrolls. He was just about to shift some stones out of the way when lightning split the sky.

The portal flared and spun wildly. Roaring thunder followed close behind and a glowing thing shot from the portal before it collapsed upon itself as if it had never existed.

“Kaiba look out!” Yugi shouted. “That thing’s headed straight for…”

“It’s a hologram,” he shouted back, gesturing dismissively at the thing barreling towards him without actually looking at it. “It’s not like it can hurt…”

The next thing he knew, he was flat on his back, his ears ringing, and struggling for a full breath.

When he regained enough sense to figure out what was going on around him, he realized that his arms were wrapped around something warm and solid. The thing thrummed under his hands, like working on an ungrounded circuit. He came around to a curtain of white and a pair of horribly familiar blue eyes.

The woman shot back, her fingers splayed across his chest, her face contorting in stunned confusion. She started to speak, her voice raspy and quiet, stumbling over words in a language he didn’t understand. Yet even without knowing the words, he got the sentiment.

“What. The. Fuck.”

This couldn’t be real. She couldn’t be real. He must have cracked his head when he hit the ground. She had to be a hallucination or a hologram or…he didn’t know, he couldn’t think clearly enough to figure out what specific kind of nonsense was going on.

Somewhere off in the distance, the nerds said something, but it was like listening under water. And as much as he wanted to shout at them to shut up so he could focus, the words stuck in his throat.

He knew her. From that trip to Egypt. Her name was…

No. No.

This wasn’t happening. The world didn’t work this way. People did not just fall out of holes in the sky. He’d been dragged kicking and screaming into accepting that maybe the supernatural bullshit that followed him around possibly had some merit, but thiswas a step too far.

None of this made any sense. Kis…She was impossible. You couldn’t just fling someone through space and time with badly mangled Latin. It took energy. It took machinery. Complex math, things that went beep, big red buttons that gave the nerds heart attacks when he pushed them.

(But these idiots were trying to summon a dragon, weren’t they?)

This violated so many different laws of physics. There must be another explanation. He just had to keep calm and think of it. His heart hammered against his chest. Every time he almost had a grasp on this, he caught her eyes, and any theory beyond rote denial slipped away.

She couldn’t be real. He’d barely thought of her since that trip. Whatever, whoever, she was, it was the past. It didn’t matter. She didn’t matter. He had to focus on figuring out how the hell some loser cultists managed time travel with some incense and dead lizards, no if they managed time travel some incense and dead lizards, when, despite his disregard for the laws of men and gods, even he was still mostly beholden to thermodynamics.

They probably hadn’t. There had to be something in the incense.

Still, the logical part of his brain told him that even his best holograms didn’t feel this real and there was no logical way they knew what she looked like. Her heartbeat fluttered under his hands. She smelled like prison grime and ozone and petrichor.

So a hallucination then. But everyone else kept talking. He still couldn’t really hear them, but maybe they could see her too. Or that was just another facet of his concussed delusion. But if this was a hallucination, then why couldn’t he understand her? He’d never hallucinated in a language he didn’t understand before.

Not a hologram. Not a hallucination. Where did that leave him? Flat on his back on a cold stone floor with a dead woman straddling his waist and the growing certainty that he would never live this down.

Again, she leaned in, her head tilted to the side. Time slowed as she brought a hand to his face and his heart beat too steady to be truly calm as she studied him. She was so small. He could easily throw her off and get away, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t even look away as the world shrank down to just the two of them.

She didn’t look quite the same as in the memory. She didn’t seem half so fragile. Her long, pale hair was tangled and her face prematurely lined. Her dress was more a collection of mismatched patches than an actual garment. Bruises and scars bloomed along her arms and collarbone amid patches of thick, almost scaly looking skin.

He wondered if the memory, vision, whatever it was, was accurate. How much of what he knew about her was true? How much had been made up by someone who’d never met her to fit her role in the game? Did it even matter? He was his own person, why should he care about her just because of a supposed connection to the Blue Eyes White Dragon?

Yet despite everything going on, she seemed alert and curious, determined to figure out what exactly just happened, whereas he had to remind himself to keep breathing.

Just before her rough, calloused fingers brushed his jaw, a jolt of static leapt between them. She reeled back, her pupils snapping into narrow slits. Thin, cracking lips curled back over sharp teeth in an inhuman hiss. Her shoulders flexed and he half expected wings to unfurl from her back.

Then she must have caught sight of the others because she shrank back, trembling. A horrible charge built under his hands. He willed himself move just enough to let go.

She scrambled away, breathing in sharp, hissing gasps. Upon reaching the far wall, she shot up a crumbling pillar and crouched as far back on the bottom ledge of a frieze as she could manage and stared down in horror as the first few drops of rain fell through the broken ceiling.

He stared back, the concussed or drugged or shocked daze lifting just enough to drag himself to a sitting position.

She was impossible. But her eyes were electric bright and she’d felt like a damn live wire in his hands. He hadn’t figured out the physics behind this yet, but he understood one thing.

Kisara was very real.

[kimistorm]

Doctor Strange x Reader || It’s All a Little Strange || Chapter 3

“Master (l/n).” The Ancient One called you over to where she was standing with Strange.

“Yes?” you stepped forward.

The Ancient One quirked an eyebrow at you and pointed at Strange, “why don’t you help train Mr. Strange.”

“What?” both of you demanded at the same time.

“I’m rarely ever here! And even when I am, it’s so that I can spar and make sure I’m still on par!” you protested.

“I hate her!” Strange pointed at you.

“Oh wow, real mature Strange.” You snarkily shot at him and turned to look at him, “at least my argument made sense. And you didn’t have to be so blunt about it.”

Strange looked at you in confusion, “I believed that my hatred for you was implicit from our interactions during the past few years.”

“Oh it was.” You shot back, “I just wasn’t certain that you wanted to shout out your hatred for the whole world to hear!”

“Enough!” The Ancient One shouted and the room fell into silence. “Master (l/n),” The Ancient One turned to you, “it will be a good experience for you. You’ve been here long enough that I believe you are more than capable of passing on your knowledge to Mr Strange. Besides, he will be taking the classes with the other recruits as well. You’re only helping with his training. Mr Strange,” now The Ancient One turned away from you and towards said person, “you said you wanted to learn, and here’s your opportunity. Need I remind you that I threw you out before?”

“No ma’am.” Strange mumbled dejectedly.

“Good,” the Ancient One smiled, “now that that’s settled, Master (l/n), help Mr. Strange get settled.”

“Yes ma’am.” You nodded and spun on your heel to exit the room with the assumption that Strange was following you. Once the door closed behind you, you turned to Strange with a furious aura surrounding you. “What are you doing here?” you demanded. You moved forwards and somehow, even with your shorter stature, Strange stepped back into the wall.

“I got into a car accident.” He explained shakily. Apparently your fury was enough to scare even Doctor Strange.

“I know that!” you nearly shouted and jabbed a finger into his chest, “I was there the entire eleven hours that you were on the table!”

Something seemed to click behind Strange’s blue-green eyes and he reared at you with nearly as much fury as you, “how could you ruin me like that!” he yelled.

“What are you talking about?” you demanded in return, but now it was your turn to step back.

“You ruined me!” he bellowed and brought up his trembling hands into your face, “I can’t do anything now because of this!”

“We did the best we could!” all rational thoughts about being quiet and respectful to everyone else in the building were thrown out the window.

“Well your best wasn’t very good, was it?” he snarled in return.

“It’s your fault for getting in that car accident! You drove off the side of a mountain!” you shot back scathingly. “The nerve damage was already done by the time you got to the hospital!” you crossed your arms and glared at him. The two of you were in the center of the dimly lit wooden hallway only feet from the room where the Ancient One was probably still in. “Look at this, you’re still alive. You’re still standing, are you not?” you demanded in a dangerously low tone.

“Everything I was is gone now!” he yelled and nearly shoved his hands in your face to get his point across.

“That’s not our fault! It’s your fault for letting your ego get to your head and for not paying attention to the road! It was a rainy night, you were on a mountain, and you were driving recklessly!” (e/c) eyes met blue-green ones and sparks practically flew in the air between you, “would you like to explain what you were doing? It doesn’t take a genius to figure out it had something to do with your over-inflated ego.”

“I do not have an over-inflated ego!” he retaliated.

You snorted mirthlessly, “you’ll have to do a lot to convince me otherwise.” The two of you continued the stare down until you broke the silence. “What are you doing here. Kamar-Taj isn’t really a place that’s making headlines.” You asked in a quieter voice.

“I came seeking healing.” He explained, following your lead and not shouting as well.

“How’d you find this place?” you asked.

“Pangborn.” Was his vague answer.

“Who?”

He smirked, “what, you don’t know this guy?”

“No, but I don’t care. I just want answers.” You rolled your eyes as his smug atmosphere returned.

“Jonathan Pangborn. He had a C7-C8 spinal cord injury.” Strange explained. You looked at him in confusion. “He came here, and walked out. Literally.”

“So he told you about this place.” You concluded and Strange nodded. You gave a chuckle, “guess you didn’t really find what you were looking for.”

“You could say that.” Strange nodded, “and finding you was certainly not something I expected.”

“Same could be said about you.” You returned, “what are you doing now? You now know that you’re not going to find healing here.”

“I’m going to listen to the Ancient One.” You couldn’t help but snort. Doctor Strange listen? It was laughable. “I’m going to learn.” You were laughing now. “What?” Strange frowned as you put a hand on the rough wall to stop yourself from falling over.

“Doctor Stephen Strange. Learn something that’s not science?” you continued to laugh.

“I don’t understand how that’s so funny.” He continued to frown as he watched your laughing form.

“Sorry,” you stopped laughing and explained yourself, “but everything I know about you is that you’re a stubborn, arrogant, man who only believes what science can prove. Everything here,” you spread your arms out to gesture to the entirety of Kamar-Taj, “is nothing that can be proven by science. The idea of you accepting this. Is laughable.”

“Is that a challenge?” Strange quirked an eyebrow mischievously.

“Only if you want it to be.” You countered.

“Challenge accepted.”

                                                  ✯✯✯

You were walking past the stone courtyard where the recruits typically trained but slowed down when you realized it was just Mordo and the Ancient One standing there expectantly. You bit your lip, you knew it was impolite to intrude, but you just had the feeling that you should’ve asked them what they were doing. You shook your head and continued to walk to your destination. Since it seemed like the recruits weren’t in the courtyard, Strange must’ve been in his room.

You navigated through the maze of dimly lit wooden halls and stopped at his door. “Strange?” you called and knocked on the door, “are you in there?” when there was no answer, you concluded he wasn’t there. “I could continue searching for him, or, I could go spar with Mordo.” You thought out loud. You decided to go spar with Mordo. It would be good to spar with him. You briskly walked through the hallway back to the courtyard, since that was where you last saw him.

You were almost there when you stumbled upon Strange. Who was shakily trying to make it back to his room but was finding it very hard. Considering that he was practically frozen. “What happened?” you demanded and grabbed onto him to help hold his weight. His body was icy to the touch, his hair was frozen all over the place, and he was shivering violently.

“The Ancient One trapped me on Everest.” He stuttered out through shivers.

“Oh,” you nodded. It wasn’t the first time that she’d done something like that. You started to steer him away from his room down a different set of hallways.

“Where are we going?” Strange shivered and you tried to rub his arms to warm him up, “my room is that way.”

“I know that.” You snapped, “I’m leading the way to a fireplace. Unless you have one in your room?” Strange shook his head and confirmed your conclusion that he didn’t have a fireplace in his room. So, you led the way to another section of the building where there was a hearth with fire burning brightly in it. Upon seeing it, Strange’s face practically melted with relief. “Sit there.” You pointed to the floor right in front of the blazing source of heat and he didn’t hesitate to follow your words. “I’m going to find you some towels and blankets, don’t move.”

“Thank you.” Strange whispered. You merely nodded to show that you heard his words before you rushed off to find some towels to soak up the melted ice and some blankets to warm him up.

When you returned he was still sitting in front of the fire but he looked considerably less blue and his hair was now lying flat with water. “Here.” You shoved a towel in his direction while your other arm held a couple blankets. “I hope you still can use a towel.”

“Of course I can.” He shot back and took the towel from your hands.

“Are you up for some training?” you asked quietly and squatted down next to him as he ran the towel through his hair, “it’s okay to say no. You did just arrive from Mount Everest.”

“I can do it.” He stated stubbornly and started to get up.

“Hold on.” You put a hand out to stop him from getting up. You then put your hands on his arms, “no, you’re still practically frozen.” You shook your head and removed your hands from his freezing arms. “Focus on getting warm.” You brought out the blankets and gave it to him, “I can help you with individualized training later on.” You stood back up to your full height and turned to walk out of the room.

Masterlist (Originally posted in 2018)

[queenlua]

You're a druid and an ex-evangelical, right? What does being a druid mean to you? How did you get from evangelicalism to where you are now? And of course feel free to ignore this if it's nosy. (sincerely, a Christian who wants to leave but who doesn't know what to do)

this is going to make me sound ignorant as hell, lol, but i'm happy to share

under a cut because this got very long, sorry, lol.

my personal progression was: "vaguely christian -> VERY christian -> christian agnostic -> agnostic/atheist -> agnostic/druid -> some sorta druid-neopagan-animist thing."  i guess i'll just go through what made me switch between each of those, and close out with some high-level thoughts that may be helpful for you?

okay, so when i was

VAGUELY CHRISTIAN,

i went to Sunday school every week because That's What You Do, and because my whole hometown was very southern Baptist, i never questioned the veracity of its teachings much... until they ran a whole weekly series on "why [x] is wrong," where [x] is some other group

e.g., we had a week on why Mormons are wrong, and i didn't bat an eye because i hadn't even known Mormons existed until that moment

then we had a week on why Muslims are wrong, and that... bothered me, because i had a friend who was Muslim, and she was just objectively a better person than me, and i was like "any universe where she goes to hell and i don't seems really fucked up"

then we had a week on why EVOLUTION was wrong, and that just absolutely threw me, because while i hadn't thought about evolution much (i think i was in fourth grade or so), it seemed common-sense? scientists thought highly of it? "adaptation over time" just seems logical?

so i went to the public library every day after school for like a week, read some Darwin and some science books, and came back to my Sunday school teacher with, like, an itemized list of objections to the whole "evolution is wrong" thing.  and he came up with some standard Answers In Genesis rebuttals, and i did more research and came back the next week with more science, and we repeated this a few times until he was like "lua, you just gotta take some things on faith"

which.  lmao.  full existential crisis time, because no matter how hard i thought, i couldn't *not* believe in the science, but i also didn't want to go to hell, so i was like "maybe if i believe SUPER HARD i will SOMEDAY be able to unbelieve the condemn-me-to-hell bits"

so i decided to become

VERY CHRISTIAN

and my frantic googling for shit like "proof of god" and "god and evolution" *eventually* broke me out of the Answers In Genesis circles of the internet, and into some decent Christian apologia, like, think First Things and various Catholic bloggers.  and there, i found some way to square my gut sense that evolution was right, with a spiritual worldview.

like, i remember finding some blogger who said:

"young earth creationists get tripped up when they try to explain stars that are millions of light-years away, and end up basically arguing that God's tricking us somehow, and—no!  my God lets you believe in the evidence of your eyes, my God does not demand that you make yourself ignorant or stupid, my God expects you to use your brain"

and i just started crying at my computer, because no one had ever said "using your brain is Good and part of God's will," i was like *finally* here's someone who won't tell me i'm going to hell for just *thinking* about things

(st. augustine does a much better riff on a similar theme, fwiw, but i only found him later)

still, it was an uneasy fit, because, the more i learned and read about world history, the more it seemed... weird... that the One And Singular Path To Salvation was... the successor to some niche desert cult... which didn't even occur at the *beginning* of written history, like, it was all predated by that whole Mithraism thing, etc... and like, sure, i could trot out all the standard theological talking points for why Actually This Makes Perfect Sense, but gut-level-wise, the aesthetics just seemed kinda dumb!  and no level of talking myself out of it made that feeling go away!

so at this point i started referring to myself as a

CHRISTIAN AGNOSTIC

i mean, not aloud.  i still lived in southernbaptistopia and i didn't want, like, my hair stylist to tell me i was a horrible person.  but in my *head* i called myself Christian agnostic and it felt right.

and i started church-hopping, which honestly was really fun, would recommend to anyone at any point.  i visited the fire-and-brimstone baptist church, the methodist church, the episcopalians, the universal unitarians, etc.

unfortunately, while this gave me *some* new perspectives, each of the places either had the same shitty theology as my old megachurch (i remember the *acute* sense of despair i felt when i was starting to jive with a methodist church... only for the dumbass youth minister to start going on about evolution), or, they just lacked any sense of the *sacred*.  like, the Church of Christ churches, with their a capella services, *definitely* had it; i felt more God there in one service than i did in a lifetime of shitty Christian rock at the megachurch.  but their beliefs were even *more* batshit, so.  big L on that one.

having failed to find a satisfactory church, i was basically

AGNOSTIC/ATHEIST

by the time i went to college, but honestly pretty unhappy about it; while it was harder than ever for me to actually *connect* with the divine, i didn't like thinking that my previous experiences of the divine were total lies.  because my shitty evangelical church, for all its faults, could not *completely* sabotage the sense of God's presence.  there were real moments in that church where i do believe i experienced something divine.  mostly mediated by one particular youth minister, who in hindsight was the only spiritual teacher in that church who didn't seem a bit rotten inside, but!  it was something!

so when i happened upon a bunch of writings on the now-defunct shii.org (that's the bit that makes me look WILDLY ignorant, lol), i was utterly captivated.

said author was a previous archdruid of the Reformed Druids of North America, an organization that was formed in the 1960s to troll the administration of Carleton College (there was a religious-service-attendance requirement; they made their own religion; their religion had whiskey and #chilltimes for its services).  however, this shii.org dude seemed to take it pretty seriously.  he was studying history of religion and blogged a lot about his studies, both academic and otherwise.�� while RDNA had started out as a troll, that didn't mean they hadn't *discovered* something real in the process, he said.

this, already, was going to be innately appealing to me; i've got a soft spot for wow-we-were-doing-this-ironically-but-now-it's-kinda-real? stuff in general.

in particular, shii.org’s discussions on the separation of ritual from belief was really interesting to me: most religions/spiritualities have *both*, but like, you can do a ritual without having the Exact Right Beliefs (if there even is such a thing!), and it can still be useful to you, it can have real power.  (he had a really lovely essay, speculating on the origins of religion as just a form of art, but that essay is now lost to the sands of time, alas.)

(note that i wouldn't really recommend seeking out *recent* writing by the shii.org guy; he kinda went full tedious neoreactionary-blowhard-who-reads-a-lot-of-Spengler at some point?  sigh.)

the shii.org guy led me to checking out a bunch of books on the history of neopaganism & also books by scholars of religion in general, and the more i read, the more excited i became.  and i started doing little ritual/meditation stuff here and there.

then i was fortunate enough to attend some events with Earthspirit (this was when i lived in Boston), which cemented my hippie dalliances into something more real.  the folks there, being from Boston, were all ridiculously overeducated (a sensibility that appeals to me), but also, being the kind of folks who drive out to a mountain in the middle of nowhere for a spiritual retreat, they tolerated a full range of oddities (everyone from aging-70s-feminist-wiccans to living-on-a-farm-with-your-bros-Astaru to dude-who-started-having-weird-visions-and-is-just-trying-to-figure-out-the-deal to Nordic-spiritualist-with-two-phds-from-Scandanavian-universities-on-the-subject, etc), which gave me a lot of room to explore different types of rituals, ceremonies, "magic", etc.

(polytheism in general lends itself well to this sort of easy plurality!  i can believe other people are experiencing something real with their gods, and i can be talking to a totally different set of gods, and that’s just all very compatible, etc)

anyway, i started calling myself

AGNOSTIC/DRUID

around then, because i knew i'd found *something*, something that felt like all the realest moments i'd ever had in nature, and all the realest moments i'd ever had in that shitty megachurch, but i wasn't quite ready to put a theology to it.

but, idk, you do the thing for a while, and you start encountering some things that you may as well call gods, and you realize you're in pretty deep, and you ditch the "agnostic" bit and just throw hands and start describing yourself as

SOME SORTA DRUID-NEOPAGAN-ANIMIST THING

because that's the most precise thing you can muster.  in particular, the druid bit resonates because nature's still very much at the center of my practice; the neopagan bit resonates because i'm not especially interested in reconstructing older traditions or being faithful to any actual pre-Christian traditions, and animist resonates because what i sometimes call gods seem to be tied pretty tightly to the land itself.  it's all very experiential; all this mostly means i'm some weird chick who sometimes grabs a car and drives out someplace very lonely and hikes for a while and does some hippie shit to try and talk with the land or the god or whatever is there.  and sometimes i come back from it changed, or refocused, or what-have-you, and hopefully i'm better for it.  i'm aware this makes me look a little ridiculous, and is an unsatisfying answer, sorry!

WRT YOUR SITUATION

i don't know you or your situation, obviously, but if i wanted to give former-me some advice to save her some angst, i'd say

-> Christendom itself is far wilder and more diverse than many churches lead you to believe.  if you still want to be Christian on some level, and it's just a shitty church that's convinced you the whole project is fucked, i'd honestly explore, i dunno, your nearest Quaker meeting.  they're invoking the Holy Spirit with regularity but they're not raging douchenozzles about it.

-> if you're specifically interested in druidism, i found John Michael Greer's "A World Full of Gods" really nice.  (caveat: Greer has *also* gone full right-wing nutjob these days, sigh, so like.  would not recommend a great swath of his writing.  but that one's good)

-> deciding that a just God wouldn't give me a brain and then ask me not to use it was hugely comforting to me.  like, that was the start of the whole process, that was what made me feel ok searching for other churches and trying to find something that fit.  obviously you should take this with 800 grains of salt, because obviously i'm no longer Christian, and thus maybe i'm just some poor misguided fallen soul, but... i still kinda believe that!  maybe if you can make yourself believe that, it'll seem less scary?

idk, happy to answer more questions, sorry for the long ramble, hope it helped~

[plaidbooks]

Dating Pains

A/N: So! I was looking through some old files and found this Sonny Carisi x reader story I wrote in September that I had completely forgotten about! After reading through it, I figured “this is actually pretty good, I can post that” so here’s part one of four(?).

Tags: mentions of rape, mentions of murder, attempted drugging

Words: 3026

Taglist: @the-baby-bookworm @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy @infiniteoddball @ben-c-group-therapy @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @reading--mermaid @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles

You puckered your lips, painting them with the bright red lipstick that you loved. You smacked your lips a couple times, smiling at your own reflection. You were in comfortable jeans that hugged your ass perfectly, and a loose shirt, the sleeves draped around your upper arms rather than your shoulders, bright red and orange flowers on the black material. Your makeup was simple, neutral, except for the lipstick—but you couldn’t help yourself, you loved the color.

It was a first date, and you didn’t want to over-do it by over-dressing. Besides, it was a first date with this guy, and you were running out of cute, clean clothes. But it was your third “first date” in two weeks; your friends had set up a Tinder account for you and had been forcing you to go out on these dates. At first, you were reluctant, unwilling to stoop so low as to use an app to find love. But, after about a month of trying it the “old fashioned way,”—you at bars and clubs, striking out over and over again—you gave in to their insistence. Though, most of the guys on Tinder only wanted hookups, and you wanted something, well, more. You were looking for love, as cliché as that was, and that was something your friends loved to tease you about.

“You can wait around and find love whenever, but why pass up a chance to get laid?” one of your friends asked. You had blushed and tried to fumble through an excuse about why you didn’t want a hookup, why you wanted a real relationship. It wasn’t like you were necessarily against having a one-night stand, but it just wasn’t what you were looking for.

It took weeks and a lot of weeding through shitty profiles and messages until you found at least someone that seemed interesting. Your first date was alright; he seemed nice, polite but there just wasn’t a connection there. You both agreed that there shouldn’t be a second date. The second man was a real estate agent. He was once divorced, from his high school sweetheart, lived on Staten Island, had finished paying off his college debt, and was debating going back for a BS in Computer Science since that’s where the real money was. You knew all about his family life, too, because never once did he stop talking about himself. When he asked for a second date, you politely declined. Then again, and again, until you finally had to block him. If you didn’t already have this third “first date” set up, you would’ve given up on Tinder entirely.

Looking yourself over once more, you headed out the door and towards the bar that you were meeting the man at, nervous butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You had made sure you took screenshots of the man’s profile and messages, sent a picture of his profile picture to your friends, and told them where you were going. You were positive that serial killers didn’t use Tinder, but it was always better to be safe.

You made it to the bar and scanned the faces in the cramped space. Your date, Jerry, had said that he would be wearing a navy-blue polo shirt and black slacks, not that the dim lighting in the bar would help you tell the difference between the two colors. Your eyes did a full scan, not seeing anyone that looked familiar; maybe he was running late? Sure enough, you felt your phone vibrate, a message from Jerry saying that he was running behind and would be there in 5 minutes. Shrugging to yourself, you made your way to the bar, ordering a sprite and finding an open table. Being late wasn’t a deal-breaker for you, and at least he had messaged you.

You let your eyes wander through the crowd, people watching, and, if you were being honest with yourself, looking for anyone that looked attractive and hopefully alone…just in case this Jerry-guy didn’t work out. There were a couple of cute guys in the bar, but all of them seemed to be with someone, whether friends or with a girlfriend. Your eyes did settle on one man, though; he was tall, even when sitting, his hair carefully slicked back. In the dim bar lighting, it was impossible to tell if his hair was grey, blonde, or a light brown. He was in a blue, button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a black striped tie, and a suit jacket was on the back of his chair. He had a beer in his hand, his long fingers wrapped around the dark bottle, with his head thrown back in laughter at something that one of the two women he was with said. One of the women was older, with long brown hair, who exuded command, even though she was also chuckling. The other woman was younger, closer to your age, with blonde hair that was tied back, beer in her hand and obviously the one cracking the jokes.

You looked away as you saw someone approaching your table out of the corner of your eye, smiling as you saw that it was Jerry—at least he matched his profile picture. You stood, giving him a polite hug, before you both sat. A waitress came up and took Jerry’s order, in which he also insisted you got a drink, too, to help loosen you both up. Not wanting to appear rude, you agreed; one drink wouldn’t make you drunk.

It took you about 5 minutes to realize that Jerry was the same, if not worse, than your last date was. He was incredibly full of himself, talking about how women just “didn’t get him” and how he was only on Tinder because he was “too busy” to actually go out and meet people. You were about to excuse yourself to the bathroom, planning to have a friend come save you, when he got up himself to go. While he was gone, you seriously contemplated leaving, but you couldn’t—you weren’t that mean. But you did instantly forget about texting a friend for help. Instead, your eyes travelled back over to the cute man with the slicked-back hair. You were shocked when you saw his bright blue eyes watching you. He quickly turned away, as did you, your cheeks flushing hot. You were too afraid to look back over, your face still feeling warm…warmer than a normal blush. You were looking hard at the table in front of you when you noticed that it was moving. Confused, you put your hand out to rest on it; it definitely wasn’t moving, but now the room looked like it was moving, shifting, and you felt like your skin was on fire now.

You stood suddenly, and almost went right back down. There was no way you were drunk, so what the hell was happening? You took a couple of stuttering steps before you felt hands on you, an arm wrapping around your waist, a hand on your shoulder, helping you up.

“You okay, honey?” Jerry asked, his fake, honey-covered voice concerned.

Your mouth moved, but you couldn’t form words. It was becoming hard to keep your eyes open, and you felt sweat forming on your forehead. You vaguely noticed him guiding you towards the door, out of the bar. Suddenly, a shadow was looming over you. You looked up, squinting at the figure above you. All you saw was slicked-back hair, and bright blue eyes, full of concern and a quiet rage.

“Sorry, man. My girlfriend just had a few too many,” Jerry was saying, trying to laugh it off. Something clicked in your sluggish brain. This is wrong, you thought, but your body wasn’t reacting to your mind. Without knowing what you were doing, you reached towards the tall, lanky man in front of you, who was now speaking harshly to Jerry. But you couldn’t understand the words. Your mind was fading fast, darkness coming to meet you.

You gathered all the strength you had left, and whispered into the loud, over-packed bar, “help me,” before the darkness overtook you.

 **********************

You woke up in a soft bed, sheets pulled up to your chest, the soft whirring of machinery around you. You squinted against the harsh light as you opened your eyes, the fluorescent lights blinding you slightly. You groaned and pushed yourself up, your head pounding and your throat dry. You froze; you were obviously in the hospital, but you had no memory of getting there, or why you were there in the first place. You took mental stock of your body; besides a splitting headache, you felt fine. So why were you there?

“Oh, you’re awake! How are you feeling?” a soft voice asked. You looked over and saw a nurse coming into your room, clipboard in hand. She didn’t wait for you to answer as she started playing with the machinery you were hooked up to.

“I-I’m alright,” you rasped, throat completely dry. She wordlessly poured you a glass of water on your side table and handed it to you. You gratefully took a sip, wetting your throat. “Head hurts, though.”

The nurse nodded as she took the glass back. “That’s normal.”

You cocked an eyebrow in confusion. “Normal for what? Why am I here?”

The nurse seemed surprised for a moment before she realized. “Oh, of course you don’t remember. You were drugged last night; roofied.” Your heart sunk. You were roofied? How? You never left your drink unattended; how did someone sneak it in? And does that mean…? The nurse had continued talking, but you tuned out, mind and heart racing. She concluded with a little cup of pills for you to take, and now your heart really sunk. You knew that doctors gave women the morning after pill, as well as anti-STD pills after being assaulted. So, that must have happened to you, too, right? And you remembered none of it. Was it better that way?

“Are you alright, Ms. [Y/L/N]?” the nurse asked, looking at how you regarded the cup of pills. “It’s just eletriptan…for your headache?”

“Just—just headache pills?” you asked. The nurse smiled, nodding.

“Yes, just headache pills.” As she was heading out the door, she added, “oh! There were two SVU detectives here to see you. Can I let them in?”

Confused as to why two detectives wanted to talk to you, you nodded absentmindedly, taking the pills and downing them with a gulp of water. You had only a moment to think about it—SVU? Were you a Special Victim, even if you weren’t assaulted?—before they entered. The first detective that came in looked vaguely familiar; a young woman with her blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. The second detective, though, made you pause. You had definitely seen him before, but you couldn’t place him. Tall, lanky, slicked-back, dirty blonde hair, and bright blue eyes that pierced into yours with some sort of…guilt? Pity? It was hard to tell what was there.

“Have we met before?” you blurted, unable to stop yourself. The expression in the man’s face intensified for the briefest moment before it was replaced with a cool professionalism.

“Uh, kinda,” the woman replied. “I’m Detective Rollins, and this is Detective Carisi. We met at the bar last night.” You thought about this, trying to will your still-aching mind to remember the events from the past night, but there was nothing there.

“Do you happen to remember anything from last night?” Carisi asked. “I mean, if you remember meeting us, maybe you remember more?”

You tried to go back through what you did remember from yesterday; getting lunch with friends, getting dressed for a date, putting on your favorite lipstick, then…nothing. Flashes of music and lights from the bar, but nothing more.

“I…don’t really remember much…. Do—do you know what happened to me? I—I remember leaving my house to meet a date, but then it’s all fuzzy—” you scrunched your eyes closed, trying to force your mind to work correctly.

“Hey, don’t hurt yourself. It’s normal to not remember after being roofied,” Rollins explained. “It may come back to you in the next couple days, and it may not. Do you remember who you were going on a date with?”

You sat for a moment before you remembered. “Oh! Where’s my phone? It was some dude on Tinder—I saved screenshots of his profile.” You found your purse on the side table next to you and dug until you found your phone. You ignored the texts and missed calls from your friends, probably freaking out since you haven’t contacted them yet, and pulled up the pictures. “I went on a date with Jerry last night,” you said, showing the pictures to the detectives.

“This is perfect, definitely enough for a warrant,” Carisi replied, smirking and giving you an impressed glance. You felt the blush crossing your cheeks and fidgeted uncomfortably. “Can you text me those pictures?”

You agreed and he gave you his number. You tried to ignore the fact that you now had his personal cell phone number as you sent the photos to him, your stomach flip-flopping.

“Is it alright if we talk to you in a couple days? See if you remember anything?” Rollins asked, already making her way to the door.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” you said, watching them leave. Carisi gave you a small smile before he made it to the door. “Wait!” you called out, making him stop. Carisi stood in the doorway, brow furrowed as he looked at you. “Can you please tell me what the hell happened last night? Even if you only found me somewhere—I just, I need to know something. Was I…was I attacked--?”

Carisi’s eyes filled with a sadness; he was obviously upset that you couldn’t remember anything. He turned to look out the door. “You go on to Barba’s, get the warrant. I’ll meet up with you,” he said to his partner before coming back into the room. He pulled over the visitor chair and sat down next to your bed.

“I’ll tell you all I know; I was at the bar with my Lieutenant and Rollins after work when I looked over and saw you sitting there with Jerry. Now, Jerry looked like a suspect from a case I was working a couple months back. So, I was keeping an eye on ya, just in case.” He paused for a moment, looking slightly embarrassed that he admitted watching you, but all you were feeling right now was appreciation that someone had your back. Thank god he was there, had noticed something. “When you stood up, I knew something was wrong; you were swaying and looking like you were about to pass out. I told my Lieu, and we were coming over to make sure you were alright when Jerry came back. He was trying to tell us you were drunk, and he was going take you home. Right then, you collapsed, asking for help. My Lieu arrested Jerry right there, and Rollins and I brought ya here. But we couldn’t hold him, and we couldn’t prove he was the one to drug you. But, with your screenshots, hopefully we can check his place, find roofies in his possession.”

You sat there, dumbfounded with how incredibly lucky you had been that three NYPD detectives were there when you were drugged, and how bad it could’ve ended for you if they weren’t.

“Thank you, so much, Detective Carisi,” you managed, trying to think of something else to say.

“Please, call me Sonny,” he replied, smiling. You felt yourself melting at that smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling, though, concern was still deep in his expression. Then, a thought struck you.

“That case you were working on a month ago, that Jerry matched the description for. What did he do?”

Sonny suddenly seemed uncomfortable, unwilling to talk, considering how lengthy of a description he just gave you from the previous night. That wasn’t a good sign.

“We, uh, we were investigatin’ a man who would roofie a woman, then rape her and leave her…dead body in her own bed. The only connection he had to the victims were that they used Tinder. But he would delete his account before we could find it. All we had was security footage and some eyewitness accounts of the man.”

Your heart started beating faster at the words “dead body.” If Jerry was indeed this man, then you almost died last night. You didn’t quite know how to process that.

You were staring at the bright white of your bedsheets when you heard Sonny ask, “[Y/N], are you alright?” He dipped his head down, trying to get in your line of sight. You snapped out of your thoughts, looking up to him.

“I—yeah, I just…I almost died?” your throat constricted on the last word. You felt hot tears in your eyes, and you blinked fast, trying to not let them fall. You really didn’t want to cry in front of this man, and not just because he was cute; you didn’t want to have a full breakdown in front of someone you didn’t know.

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re safe now. ‘Sides, we don’t know for sure if Jerry’s our guy, or just some predator. Either way, we’ll get him, I promise you.” Sonny gave you another heart melting smile, before he stood up. “You have my number if ya need to talk, okay? Don’t be afraid to shoot me a text.”

You smiled as he left, shutting the door softly behind him. You already wanted to text him, but to ask him out to coffee, not to help you through your shock. But you also didn’t think that that was very appropriate, asking an SVU detective out after he saved you from being assaulted. Besides, your mind was reeling from the past 24 hours. First thing’s first, better text all your friends and let them know you were alive and unharmed. And then you were definitely deleting Tinder.

[solasignora]

He Walks in Starlight

Tags: bong jaehyun x reader, vaguely Star Trek inspired, mostly just a sci-fi au

Length: 2.1k words

First time writing a scenario/imagine so excuse my amateur writing. I really just wrote this for fun lol

Your eyes felt blurry as they struggle to open while you hear the tone of your alarm go off. It felt cold and all you wanted to do was lay under your blanket where it was warm and cozy. You sighed as you turned off your alarm. You looked at the calendar displayed on a screen. Star date 21499.2. You flattened down your disheveled hair before getting up to get ready.

The Compass was business as usual. The ship's bustling crew members were all at work. You went down to the records department to start your day of organizing files and data logs when you saw a rather tense figure standing at the door. It was a young man your age. He stood rather agonizingly. Once he got a glimpse of you he looked like a deer in headlights. Confused, you walked over to unlock the records lab. “Excuse me,” he said with a surprisingly deep voice. “Are you in the department of records?” he asked.

“Yes, sir.” you said after swiping your card. The door automatically slid open and both of you walked in. You sat and turned on the computer. He only stood in front of the desk where you were stationed.

“These are my files, I’m new.. just transferred from the Miracle.” he explained while handing over some rectangular discs. You took the discs from his slender hands and put them into your computer for analyzing.

[ Bong Jaehyun

Age: 22 Earth Years

Birth Place: Seoul, SK, Earth

Specialty: Geography and Cartography

*** ]

You looked at his photo and then looked up at him. Spitting image, no doubt he was legit. He’s quite handsome in your opinion. His eyes looked like shiny glass. They were pretty, almost like tiny galaxies were hidden in them. You looked away to finish the processing. You took his discs and filed it under Crew Members subsection ‘B’. “Alright, welcome to our ship, you’re officially part of the Compass now.” you gave him a slight smile. Jaehyun’s lips also curled into a smile.

“Thank you.” he said. He made his way to the door and promptly left.

***

Records were extremely flooded that particular day. Your fingers moved quickly as you processed files and organized discs. Dwarf Planet ZETA110 was being explored. Many records of the flora and fauna were piling in. Not only that but information the planet's makeup and natural climate came in as well. You felt exhausted as you moved back and forth between your computer and the filing wall. Thankfully, it was almost break time. You could almost taste that roasted chicken breast. The thought of food alone made you salivate. You stretched as you got up from your chair. Just then your shift relief came in and you grabbed your keycard and walked out. You tiredly rubbed the back of your neck as you made your way to the elevator.

The dining room was half full. You groaned and weaved through the amount of people sitting. You entered your card into the ordering machine and tapped your choice. It was only a moment's notice until the food came out. You looked around for an empty seat and saw Jaehyun again. He was sitting alone, still with that anxious body language from before. He looked like he was spacing out to a far off world. You hesitated, you weren’t really one to make acquaintances. Yet, you sympathized. Space was lonely and cold. It felt empty and void. When you didn’t have someone to really confide in, it felt even worse. Almost as if you’ve been exiled to a blackhole of self-pity and bitterness.

You walked over and sat across diagonally from him. You glanced at his plate to make conversation. “Spicy pork belly stew, nice choice,” you commented rather nervously. He looked over at you and perked up a bit.

“Hi.” he said, smiling a bit. His eyes glimmer and twinkle. You feel breathless for a moment.

“Hi,” you repeated back. “Are you settled in yet?” it had only been a few hours since you last saw him but you figured to ask anyway.

“No,” he sighed. You watched as he moved the handle of his spoon. “Had to beam down and take a look at the planet’s landscape.”

“How is it?” you asked out of sheer curiosity. You never really got the chance to go to other planets. Most of your companions were people who work on the ship and had no business being on the ground.

“Humid,” Jaehyun replies. “It’s so humid, like a jungle, but there’s not that many trees. Everything just feels heavy...”

You started to eat your food. After eating you got up to put back your tray and utensils. Jaehyun got up as well. You felt shy as you walked beside him. You wondered if it’s okay to open up more. “Hey, when will you be done for the day?” you asked.

“Not sure,” he replied. “Why?”

“Well, if you’re up for it, I’ll be in the break room. We can play a game of 3D chess if you’re interested. Or maybe a friendly 1-on-1 on the arcade machine if that’s more your style.” You suggested. Jaehyun blinked before smiling. He shyly looked away from you. You only took a moment to appreciate his side profile.

“Yeah, that sounds good.” He said.

“Well, duty calls, I’ll see you later.” You excused yourself from him.

***

Jaehyun’s presence was almost intoxicating. You wondered if it’s an effect due to the planet’s troposphere. Nonetheless, as the two of you stood together hovering the arcade machine, you felt warm. The both of you were focused on the game quietly. At one point you felt your hand accidentally brushed up against his.

Afterwards the two of you moved on to 3D chess. You tried to make conversation asking things about him. You found out that he’s a picky eater, he likes music, and fantasy movies. Much like yourself you enjoyed a good movie. The conversation then spiraled into the best movies made in the 21st century.

“Check,” you said while moving your piece to the second level.

“I’m not good at games, huh?” He joked.

“I mean, you’re not awful.” you assured him. Jaehyun held his chin thinking for a moment before making a move.

“Checkmate,” you laughed as you captured his king. He lets out a disappointed sigh before sitting back in his chair. You look over at the clock at the time you usually go to bed. “Well, it’s quite late isn’t it? I’m sure you’re tired.”

“I guess so...” he said before getting up from his chair. Almost immediately he loses his balance. You stood up quickly to hold him.

You put his arm around your neck. “Hey, Jaehyun, are you okay? Jaehyun?” You looked over to see his face had grown pale. His eyes looked dull, it no longer had that shine.

“Head...hurts… so bad…” he groaned.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you to the medical bay.” you comforted him.

In the medical bay Doctor Lee was busy taking care of two others. You were instructed to help Jaehyun onto one of the beds. You wondered if you should stay with Jaehyun. You obviously worried for him but maybe this was too much. You turned away from him but before you could move you felt a hand grab your wrist. Jaehyun’s fingers were wrapped around your wrist weakly. You looked at him softly. “Stay, please,” he croaked. His cheeks blushed red and he looked anxious. You only stood by him unsure of your ability to comfort him.

Thankfully it wasn’t dire. It turned out that several of the crewmen were affected by the planet’s air quality causing them to have hypertension. Jaehyun was fine. He’ll be back to normal by the next date. You let out a big sigh of relief as you lied in bed.

During your break you decided to visit him. When you entered the medical bay you saw Jaehyun sitting upright. His eyes were looking sparkly again. He almost resembled a puppy who was happy to see its owner. “Hi.” you greeted.

“Hi, good to see you again.” he smiled. He seemed to be in better condition.

“Status report?” you asked.

“All good, blood pressure back to normal, should be able to retreat to my quarters within the next hour or so,” Jaehyun reported. The two of you laughed as you looked into each other's eyes. “Once I’m out of here there’s something I’d like to show you,” he said. You lifted an eyebrow at him. “Meet me in the botanical lab when you’re free.”

The rest of your shift felt painfully slow. You were too curious about what was going to occur later. While your relationship with Jaehyun wasn’t extremely close yet it often felt intimate at times. You sighed as you organized the incoming discs. Everything felt like walking on thin ice. You never knew what exactly to feel other than attraction.

You promptly met Jaehyun in the botanical lab. He was sitting among the countless native flora of different planets. “Hi, again.” you greeted. Jaehyun stood up and signaled with his hand. You walked over to where he stood. You looked in the same direction as him and saw the most stunningly vibrant red plant. It was crimson red and it’s leaves were olive green. You stared for a moment then looked at Jaehyun.

“They call it a Carmesí Florera,” Jaehyun plucked a petal and sniffed it. “It smells like fruit punch,” he held it to your nose and you took a whiff. It really did smell like a fruit punch. It made you feel a little nostalgic. “And they say,” Jaehyun grabbed your hand and put the petal in the palm of your hand. “If you give a petal to someone, they’ll be with you for a long time...” you looked up at him as he gently closed your fingers into a fist. Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at him. His ears were as red as the flower petals.

“What are you trying to say?” You questioned.

Jaehyun only shrugged. “You’re a great companion,” he said. You frowned a little. Part of you wished this could be a fairytale where next he’ll sweep you off your feet. But this wasn’t a fairytale, this is a science fiction that somehow became reality. However, this gesture was too strange. It didn’t make sense. Jaehyun was staring softly. He worried that he might have said something wrong. You clutch your flower petal and sighed. “What’s wrong?” He asked.

You shook your head. “I don’t understand,” you said honestly. “What do you mean with this? We may be miles and miles away from Earth but this sentiment can be seen as a romantic gesture from any planet, I’m confused...”

Jaehyun looked scared for a moment. As if you said something awful to him. He seemed appalled but then something changed. He straightens out his back and looks you in the eyes. “Okay then, I’ll be honest, I like you, I have a fondness for you, I… want us to be closer, and maybe in the near future we can be more than that.” he admitted.

You blinked a few times. It was a romantic gesture. Jaehyun made a romantic declaration. Your relationship was, in part, intimate. Your face was red at that point and your heart was beating quickly. It happened too fast and you’ve never really felt like this before. You were smiling without noticing.

“I like you too.”

***

Bong Jaehyun walked in starlight. He was as bright as the sun but can feel cold as the moon. Behind his eyes was the universe’s tiniest galaxy. It twinkled and shined for the world to see yet it was tucked away for only the brave to explore. Just when he felt unreachable, he held out his hand just enough for you to reach. He was almost undetectable yet his gravitational pull left you no choice but to adore him. There may be thousands of galaxies out there to discover but you were glad to have discovered him.

Even though the two of you laid flat on the cold observatory room floor staring at the endless void that was space, he was still more breathtaking than the billions of stars littered around them. You stared at him wondering what he was thinking about as he looked up at the vast sky. Was he also comparing you to a star?

Slowly you inched your hand close to his. You wondered if it was okay. Your pinky finger shyly bumped into his. You felt his hand touch yours almost as if it were asking for an embrace. Your fingers interlocked with his and you couldn’t help but smile. Jaehyun turned to look at you. He looked with a certain tenderness that makes your stomach flip. In that moment, you concluded that out of all the stars in the universe he was the brightest.

[intubatedangel]

Cold Snap: Chapter 1

I’m back, again, hopefully a bit more consistently. This time returning to the world of Anna Swift with a story that’s been an idea for almost 2 years but couldn’t quite come together.  No resus in this part, just setting up the scene, but I hope you enjoy.

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Shona dragged her large suitcase up the ramp and onto the lower deck of the old water taxi. It had become almost like an old friend to her over the last few years, the point of seperation between home and college. She turned and waved to her parents, who stood back on the quay, watching thier daughter leave for the last semester of her college life. In truth she wasn't going all that far. Only a dozen or so miles as the crow flies, and within the limits of the same greater city area. But while the city had grown and expanded to absorb her old home town as a mere suburb, the city's transport links had not kept pace. While the rail network ran along each side of the river, it didn't cross at this end of the city. There were plans for new bridges, but they never materialised. And so, instead of taking a 3 hour trip on the city metro, Shona would take the trusty water taxi that had been crossing the river back and forth for as long as her mother remembered, and be at her dorm within 40 minutes.

A good idea really, she thought, pulling on the suitcase behind her, trying to get it rolling again. She cursed internally at her professors for giving them so much work over the spring break, the suitcase weighed down with what felt like half a library. A gust of cold wind blasted her face, and she thought of another curse, this one at the northern climate. To many, spring break was about running around on beaches nearly naked having parties and getting tanned. To say it would not be advisable here was an understatement. This far north, winter was still clinging on, to the point where snow lay on the ground just a few weeks ago.

Shona pulled her scarf up a little further as she dragged the suitcase toward the door at the rear of the cabin, where luggage could be stowed out of the way. She pushed it open then spun to grip the suitcase handle with both hands and haul it over the small threshold, staggering back a little as the wheels finally rocked over. A gust of wind sucked the door closed with a loud bang and shone flinched, glancing around to see if anyone noticed. Like public transport in most cities, no one so much as glanced at her.

She ducked into the luggage area, and her heart sank. All the lower shelves were full. She walked over, wondering just how she was going to stow the case. She vaguely heard the door behind her, then the sound of rolling wheels that approached and stopped beside her.

"Erm, would you like a hand?" A male voice said. Shone turned to him. He was young, maybe a similar age to herself, with black hair in that intentionally messy style. He raised his hands in a surrendering gesture. "Not infering anything about the strength of your gender...You just looked... and I need to..." He glanced at his own case, similar sized to hers.

Shona shook her head "Sorry, yes that would be great." She smiled. "We can each lift half." She commented, prompting a grin from the young man. Together they lifted her bag. Well, Shona steadied it at least.

"Student?" The young man asked, with a slight pant from the effort. Shona nodded, and opened her mouth to reply. "Wait, let me try and guess. Your on this taxi, so you must be studying at Central. That amount of books, over spring break no less, narrows it down. Medical students are already back, my roomate's doing Chem and says all the natural sciences work is based on their own labs now. And, I haven't seen you in any of my classes or on my floor of the library, so by process of elimination I'm going to say... History."

"Impressive." Shona told him with a grin. "You must be studying literature." She grinned at his shocked face. "My roommate is in that course. She can almost quote the entire works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle at this point, and she told me that almost everyone goes through a Sherlock phase in that course."

He chuckles. "Well played. I must know the name of the lady who bested me." He said, with a mock bow.

Shona couldn't help but chuckle too, though it was drowned out by the horn of the water taxi, as it gave it's last call. Shona felt the familiar rumble as the engine got into gear and began to ramp up in power. "Shona. Shona Smith-Carlson. Yes it's double barrelled. Ardent Feminist of a mother refused to give up her maiden name."

"Well theres nothing wrong with that. Though by the look on your face you aren't too happy it."

"It's not that," Shona shrugs. "She just never shuts up about it. Still loves dad though." She trails off, the silence starting to become awkward. "What about you?" She re-directs. "I'm guessing your name isn't actually Sherlock."

He smiles. "Jack Davidson. Not literally, My dad's actually called Mark."

"You must have practiced that line." Shona said, trying not to laugh at the perfect delivery.

"Maybe once or twice, but it's a good ice breaker, don't you think?"  He replied with another dazzling smile.

It was a nice smile. The boat jerked slightly as it left the quay and started its journey across the river. Shona rocked a little, Jacks arm moved, lifting a little, not quite reaching out, but ready to steady her if she had stumbled, and Shona suddenly realised he was flirting. Why did this always happen? She fought to not roll her eyes. Her girlfriend was going to rib her again. She would have to let him down gently. She took off her scarf, wrapping it and putting it into one pocket, and then unzipped her coat. She caught his eyes flick down as all men’s do, then slightly to one side, catching sight of the rainbow badge.

He blew out a breath, then nodded with a wry grin. "That's a good move. I am out played once again. Though I suppose we aren't quite playing the same game are we."

Shona shrugged. "Sorry." She mumbled.

Jack waved his hand. "Don't be. Not like you can change who you are. How about we get my bag stowed and then we grab a coffee on the upper deck?" Shona looked at him, puzzled. "Your roommate. From what you were saying she's a year ahead of me. A bit of early information is always good."

Shona considered it for a moment. He wasn't being pushy or angry like one of those guys. And she was planning on getting a coffee. So she shrugged. "Why not, company is always nice."

Together they lifted Jack's case, a little lighter than her own, and placed it in the rack. But as he was checking it was secure, Shona felt a rumble. A different rumble, one that she had never felt before on over two dozen journeys. If she'd been outside, she would have seen a plume of black smoke rise out the tall exhaust stack. If she'd been in the cabin that qualified as the bridge of the boat, she'd have heard voices filled with panic as alarms squarked.

Shona and Jack started up the stairs in front of the luggage compartment, when there was another rumble, and a strange noise filled the passenger cabin as the whole ship vibrated. Shona stopped halfway up the stairs, looking behind her. Jack turned to her, three steps higher up.

"What is it?" He asked

Shona shook her head "The boat. Somethings wr..."

 Her voice was totally drowned out by the noise of the engine exploding.

**********

Officer Matt Jones sat on the small river patrol boat, bobbing slightly against it's mooring. He glanced at his watch. Just another 7 hours and 50 minutes of his 8 hour shift. He sighed, feeling that boiling anger as he rembered getting busted down to river patrol. Not even standard beat cop, river patrol. In March, in this city, where even the foolish wouldn't think of getting in the river. Only the desperate. But this section of the river didn't even have any bridges, ruling that out too.

"So..." The old timer, Winston, who was now his partner muttered. "Who did you piss off to land yourself here?"

Jones breathed out slowly, sending the anger with it. "You know Dean Campbell?"

"The head of HR Dean Campbell?" Jones nodded, Winston whistled. "What did you do?"

"I may have pointed out that he was... inadequate for the position. In somewhat more forceful terms. To his face..."

Winston spat into the river. "That would do it. Not that you are wrong of course, that little weasel has done nothing but damage to the department, but, not exactly the wisest decision.

Jones nodded. "What about you?"

"I asked to be here." Winston replied, prompting a look from Jones. "Coming up on retirement. The last thing I wanted was to be that stereotype. Always liked fishing, figured I'd get some boat time and avoid anything likely to finish me off before my service is done."

"That's fair enough I guess." Jones told him, sipping at the coffee, watching the old water taxi make it's way across the river. He noticed the black smoke, but thought nothing of it. "Does anything interesting happen here?"

"Wouldn't have picked this spot if it did." Winston replied. "Occasionally that floating wreck needs a hand when it breaks, but that's about it." He says turning to look. "Speking of which, that exhaust don't look too healthy." He said a moment before the radio squarked, lighting up an indicator on the emergency channel.

"This is the Beetle, may-day, may-day, our engine is...." The radio cut off as a gout of thick black smoke burst from the exhaust tube, and the distant boat seemed to lurch. A split second later the sound wave of the explosion reached them.

"Get us moving!" Jones shouted to Winston, as he grabbed at his own radio. "This is officer Jones, Badge number 4582. We have a major incident in progress on the river between....between..."

"Between North Inglebank and Trippers point!" Winston shouted.

"Between North Inglebank and Trippers point. Explosion on a water taxi, we are en-route, unknown casualties, unknown situation, requesting additional backup for evacuation and medical assistance!"

"Acknowledged Officer Jones. Relaying now."

Winston had gotten the speed boat unmoored, tossing a high-vis life jacket to Jones, before he gunned the motor and they began to cut through the waves, heading for the vessel that was now smoking from more than just the exhaust.

(Edit: Fixed some errors and details. A little out of practice.)