#watch somebody take the banner seriously

[jinx144]

Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss Oc/self insert/sona/whatever. His name is Pandora and he’s a weird succubus who’s close friends with Verosika. Potentially not entirely a succubus but enough to count as one. [I just said but, he/him.]

[vaya-writes]

Infernal Assistance (Option Four) - 2

You’ve been struggling to survive in a zombie apocalypse. Things are looking really bad before a demon swoops in to help. But that demon is an incubus. And he’s in need of help too.

-

Reader (GNC pronouns, AFAB, asexual spectrum) x incubus (cis male). Situationship. Allies to lovers. Zombie apocalypse AU. Banner by saradika-graphics. Wordcount: 2300.

Content Warnings: apocalypse setting, discussion and mild depiction of malnourishment, light discussion of sex, off screen implied violence and gore.

Masterlist - A03 - Previous

You might have felt self conscious inviting a strange demon into your cramped little apartment, if you weren’t so hungry. 

Gesturing him in behind you, you don’t even spare him a glance as you make a beeline to your pantry. There’s an open packet of crackers inside, a tupperware container of oats, and four small tins of assorted vegetables left.  

You don’t touch the crackers. Even stale, they can be eaten. You decide on a tin of beans today. If the fridge still worked you could ration out perhaps six meals from the tin (a bite and a half, three times a day, for two days). But you don’t want to get food poisoning on top of everything. So you’d consume the whole tin over the course of twenty four hours. Today’s lunch and dinner, and tomorrow’s breakfast. Three full bites per meal. Approximately.  

Your hands shake as you remove the pull-lid from the tin. You’re careful not to spill a drop of bean juice, bringing the rim to your lips and drinking. Your stomach clenches at the flavour and you take your time eating. You don’t know how long somebody has to forgo eating before reintroduction of foods becomes difficult. 

You make sure to chew each bean, even as you grimace at the flavour; they’re not something you enjoy eating by themselves. And when a third of the food is gone, you pull out your makeshift foil lid and fasten it over the tin. You put the food back in the pantry. 

“Food’s scarce for you too, huh?” Your guest speaks. 

You don’t reply for a minute. Your hands are still shaking. You’d like to go and lie down. To sleep off the rest of this awful day. But there’s still an important conversation to be had. So you take a deep breath and turn to face the demon. 

“Are you going to stay?” 

The demon stills for a moment. Perhaps surprised by your bluntness. Before relaxing. Gesturing to the couch.  

You sit, your knees drawn up to create a barrier between you and the demon when he perches on the other end of the couch. He’s massive, and takes up most of the available space. 

“You’ll let me feed on you?” 

You’ve already come to terms with that. If the incubus stays, you’ll have to keep him fed. But there’s no point in keeping him around just to watch you starve. He’ll need to earn his keep. And today, you negotiate how. 

“If you help me in turn.” 

He seems to sense your seriousness, and pivots to properly face you. “What do you need?” 

“For starters? Protection. From zombies. Thieves. Any other external threats.” 

He nods. “Simple enough. What else?” 

“I’ll need supplies. Food. Water. Potentially medicine. I’m willing to scavenge, but not alone.” 

Something in his face twitches. An expression masked. But he nods again. “I can play bodyguard. That all?” 

You consider your plan for the future. What you would have done, ideally, if you were braver. If there were less zombies in your building. If you were desperate. Or reckless.  

“Last request. I want you to head to ground floor and pick up the keys to the other apartments. A master key if you can find one. And then I want help clearing the zombies from them.” 

The demon crosses his arms. There’s that twitch in his face again, before he bites his lip. “This is a big building.” 

“And I’d like to clear it. One floor at a time. It’ll be the safest way to scavenge too.” 

“The husks might come back upstairs when we rest.” 

“We’ll build barricades.” 

He narrows his eyes. “You’ve thought this through.” 

“I’ve had little else to do.” 

There’s silence for a moment. You think he’s considering. But you keep talking. “Originally, I would have had to do this to open apartments only. But if they’re open, it’s probably for a bad reason. I doubt they’d be safe. If you get those keys for me, I can be more thorough, we won’t have to travel as far, I could create safe rooms on multiple floors... There’s a lot of advantages to bringing the whole building under our control.” 

He tilts his head. “You were planning to do this all along?” 

“No. Maybe. There was an even spread before. A zombie or two on each floor. It seemed more doable.” 

“Before you went and caused a horde.” 

You scowl. “I did no such thing. Somebody else entered the stairwell that day. Started screaming their head off.” 

He stares. It makes you a little uncomfortable the way he examines you, seemingly mulling over your request. Before finally, he shrugs. 

“I’ll help. But I won’t be of any use if I’m weak. We should discuss payment.” 

You can appreciate his bluntness. Even if the topic makes you uncomfortable.  

“I assume you mean sex.” 

“Or sexual acts, yes.” 

It’s hard to meet his gaze. You stare at his coat instead. “How often do you need to..?” 

His hesitation is slight, but you do notice it. 

“Once every day.” 

You try not to frown. Glance at his face. “I don’t know much about this sort of thing, but is that safe?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You’ll be taking my energy, right? I’m already malnourished. Is it medically safe for you to feed on me that often?” 

His hesitation is more prominent this time. He lets out a sigh. “You’re right, it’s not ideal.” 

You don’t know how to reply to that. Just wait for him to continue. 

“I’ll be careful not to take much. We can play it by ear. Skip a day every now and then, if you need one.” 

You nod. Things are making sense, but you still have questions. 

“What do you need me to do?” 

“What would you like to do,” his reply is almost instantaneous, a hint of suggestiveness slipping into his tone. 

You try not to wince, but he spots your reaction.  

“What?” 

You shake your head. You don’t want to discuss your sexual preferences with a stranger right now. “Can we get into that later? I just want to know what’s expected. Or needed. I don’t mean to... insult you, I guess, but what is the minimum?” 

He stares for another moment. An indecipherable expression on his face while he, you assume, tries to read you.  

He tilts his head and shrugs, that suggestiveness gone. “I feed on your pleasure. If I were healthy and well fed, the absolute minimum would be sitting in the room next to you while you wank. But to start with, I’m going to need a lot more than that. You’re not the only one who’s malnourished.” 

“Do I need to get off?” 

Another long stare. It’s an effort to not feel judged, but he’s entirely professional when he replies.  

“Is that something you struggle with?” 

You really don’t want to have this conversation with a stranger. But if you’re going to be living with him, relying on him... you should probably be honest. Secrets and dishonesty don’t make for a firm foundation in a relationship.  

Not to mention, he’ll probably notice when you struggle. There’s no point in hiding it. 

But you can’t meet his eyes when you nod. 

He sighs. 

At the noise you can’t help but stiffen. Your jaw locks and you stare intently at a spot on the ground. 

This is usually a point of contention in any sexual relationship you have. That and your inconsistent sex drive. You wouldn’t be surprised if the demon were exasperated. Angry.  If his next words invalidate you, or if he’s going to act like being an incubus will magically fix your sexual woes.  

“What’s your name, pet?” 

You’re taken aback at the gentleness to his tone. It takes a moment before you can find your voice and tell him. 

“Charmed. You can call me Veron.” He offers his hand to shake, brevity lifting the tension for a moment when you take it. 

But his smile soon disappears as he sits back and looks serious. Addresses you by your name, before, “I’ll take what you can give me. An orgasm is like a solid meal, but as you know, it’s possible to survive on scraps. It will just take longer to get me up to full strength.” 

You swallow. Nod again.  

“There anything else you think I should know?” 

You shrug. You’re feeling pretty done with this conversation. Eye contact is getting harder. Conjuring up full sentences feels monumental. “Maybe. Probably. Nothing that’s a deal breaker, I don’t think.” 

He offers another smile, uses a casual tone. “You don’t prefer women?” 

“Uh-” 

“No particular revulsion towards demons or monsters?” 

You shake your head. “No strong preference. To either point.” 

He smiles a little more cheerfully. “Great! We can go over limits and boundaries and wants later if you like. But for now, would you say we have a deal?” 

You take a breath. “Yeah.” 

His smile stretches wider, and he places his hand over his chest. “I’ll keep you safe, scavenge with you, and help you clear this building. In return, you’ll feed me once each day, unless it becomes medically unsafe for you to do so. Yes?” 

You shake his outstretched hand once more. “Yes." 

“Then it’s a deal.” 

- 

You give Veron a brief tour of the apartment. The bathroom. The open plan living area/kitchen/lounge.  You show him the reservoir in the bathtub and teach him your water usage rules. The water stopped running when the power was cut. Since then, you've had to dole out your reservoir using a measuring cup whenever you need to do hand washing, or your occasional sponge bath.  

You don’t know how the zombie virus is transmitted, so you’ve been hesitant to drink any of the tap water. Instead, you rely on your store-bought reserves. You’d been down to a single bottle when you’d set up catchment on the roof.  

Veron surprises and absolutely thrills you with his display of prestidigitation. A snap of his fingers and the blood and viscera coating him disappears. Another snap and your layers of sweat and dust and grime vanish into the ether.  

Knowing that he’s capable of basic magic and needs only energy to fuel it is a weight off your mind. If anything, it’s more motivation to keep the demon fed. 

You offer him the couch as a bed. You don’t actually know if demons need to sleep. Some do – dreamers for instance. But aside from the sex stuff, you’ve no clue about the physiology of concubi.  

Lastly you take down the evacuation poster. Show him the map of the building. There are some amenities on the first floor, along with a maintenance room. The remaining six are dedicated to housing. One stairwell snakes up the side of the building, an elevator shaft sits at the other end, and hanging down the outside is a rickety and broken fire escape. 

You don’t know if the spare keys are kept on site, but if you’re lucky there might be copies somewhere. Checking the pockets of the local dead might be another option to find some. 

Veron process this information, and with a glance towards the window stands.  

“Okay. Today I’ll search the first floor. And make sure none of the husks in the stairwell will get back up.” 

You don’t want to dwell on what he means by that. You hadn’t realised that there were surviving zombies on the stairs. But you walk him to the door and wish him luck regardless. And then you’re left alone. 

- 

The sun has dipped well beyond the horizon when Veron returns. It’s dark and you have to light a candle before you open the door. He’s covered in sweat and blood, looking quite disgruntled; face set in a scowl.  

“You alright?” 

“Fine,” he grumbles, snapping away any blood splatter before stepping into your apartment. 

His posture is tense, and his jaw is set. It's obvious he’s in a bad mood. 

“Did something happen?” 

He reaches into his coat and pulls out a handful of keys, dropping them onto the counter with a sneered irreverence. “These were a pain to collect.” 

“Oh?” 

He shakes his head. “Don’t ask. I’ll just get mad.” 

You’re not one hundred percent, but you’re pretty sure he’s not directly mad at you. It’s a relief, and you’re able to crack a smile. “Got it. Thanks for this.” 

He waves the comment off, before rolling his shoulders. Gradually losing some of his stiffness. “What now?” 

You hold up your candle. “I’d like to save these for emergencies. And it’s too dark for me to see. So, I’m going to turn in for the night. I’ve made the couch up for you. I don’t know if you sleep or whatever but...” you trail off.  

He glances at the couch, at the blanket and cushions you’ve set out, and nods. “Sure. I’ll just... be here then. Until tomorrow.” 

You conjure up a polite smile. “Until tomorrow.”  

You put the candle out before heading to your room. Briefly wonder if you should lock your door before doing so. Sure, he could probably break it down if really wanted. But it puts your mind at ease.  

You let out a groan as you sink into your bed. Your back fucking hurts. It’s so good to be on a mattress, using a pillow. Enough so that even with all the trepidation, all the anxiety circling your thoughts, you’re soon out like a light. 

-

Next

[ominous-feychild]

INCORRECT QUOTES:

RISING FROM MISFORTUNE

(Get it? Because it's kinda a crossover?)

Tián: (cheerfully and jokingly) “ah, looks like we won't be able to mansplain, manipulate, or manwhore our way outta this one, boys!”

Benji: (half-laughs; amusedly) “Seriously!? But I manwhore my way out of everything! What am I going to do now!?”

Tián: [spares a moment to give him an overdramatic wink and draw out a cartoonishly large sword] “manslaughter.”

The Rest of the Crew: [stunned silent]

Cricket: “I... somebody needs to stop this.” :'D

Flavie: (under her breath) “I don't know, that Tián guy is pretty hot...”

Cricket: (sharply, shocked) “What!?”

Flavie: (meets his eyes; deadpan) “What.”

Zarina: (evenly) “first of all, no.”

Cricket & Flavie: [look to her]

Zarina: (continues, not having stopped speaking) “Secondly...”

Zarina: [sighs heavily, putting her head in her hand]

Zarina: (defeatedly) “... I don't even know if I want to step in.”

Cricket: :'D

Flavie: [amused! But not complaining.]

Cricket: [sighs himself, but then shakes his head and pulls out his spellbook]

Cricket: (tiredly) “Don't worry about it, Captain. I'll take care this.”

Zarina: [just sighs again, hesitantly watching between her fingers—]

Cricket: [heading to Tián & Benji to put a stop to their shenanigans]

Flavie: (slightly obnoxiously) “Sooooooo...” ;DDDDD

Zarina: [hesitantly lifts her head from her hand to look up at her]

Flavie: [winks; amusedly) “You're staying up here to get a good view, too, huh?”

Zarina:

Zarina: [face flushes, but stands up straight—and crosses her arms, as she often does—to give Flavie a slight glare]

Zarina: (sharply) “Absolutely not!”

Flavie: [can't help a shit-eating grin]

Flavie: (teasingly) “oh, sure! So, tell me...”

Zarina: [narrows her eyes further in a much more obvious glare]

Flavie: (overdramatically, drawing out and savoring her words) “Is it Benji? Tián? Or, maybe even... Cricket?” >;DDDD

Zarina: [face only flashed in annoyance at Benji's name, disgusted at Tián's, but... goes empty and unreadable at Cricket's]

Flavie: (playfully) “OOOOOOOOO! The Captain and—”

Zarina: [scoffs, simultaneously turning away, heading to the stairs, and un-crossing an arm to wave it dismissively over her shoulder]

Zarina: (talking over Flavie) “Whatever you think is going on, don't say a word of it to Hugo.”

Zarina: [sets her hand on the stairs' handrail and twists on her heel to meet Flavie's eyes with a sharp, serious expression]

Zarina: (voice hard) “Or else. Understood?”

Flavie: [stunned—]

Flavie: [swallows slightly, but forces an awkward grin, stands at attention, and raises her hand in salute]

Flavie: (voice thick and uneven) “aye, aye, Captain. Wouldn't even dream of it.” ;'D

Zarina: [face softens—a flash of guilt crossing it—but quickly just turns away and hurries to help Cricket]

@honeybewrites @the-golden-comet @illarian-rambling @ashirisu @urnumber1star

@the-letterbox-archives @48lexr @aalinaaaaaa @thecomfywriter @an-indecisive-nerd

@seastarblue @leahnardo-da-veggie @world-of-iridensia

Banners from @saradika

[canonicallysoulmates]

J2 Gold Panel Dallascon 2023

The boys today are in full swing, they're joking around making each other laugh, they're a little flirty, they are just in such a good mood and you can tell from the moment they get on the stage.

Jared does a little kick which is so cute and after Jared asks Jensen if it feels like they're twice as high as they usually are Jensen jokes that yeah but he did have some edibles that morning, and then he turns towards the big screen they have behind them that has a big banner with two pictures of them and he asks what's up with Jared's photo because he looks high....and Jared replies that what happened was that the picture got cropped so you don't see Jensen's left hand...I have no words.

And then there's Jared trying to recreate his stare in the photo and Jensen's left hand- just click on the link and watch: 😂

The first question is not a question it’s a fan thanking them, the show has a very special meaning to them because it's something that they watched with their grandad; Jared says that hearing stories from people about how the show helped them connect with their loved ones is one of the things that kept them going for so many years and when they were missing their families. x

The actual first question comes from an English teacher who sometimes uses SPN episodes in her drama units, like she used French Mistake to teach about breaking the fourth wall, and wants to know if they have episode recommendations that she could use for lessons. Jared recommends showing the movie Groundhog Day, and the ep Mystery Spot. The reason he brings up Groundhog Day is because he watched it this past week with their kids while they were all home because of icepocalypse. !!!!!!!!! Y'all already know I listened to this part multiple times, at different speeds, at different volume levels. This man said: "I just watched this movie last week with our kids when we were all home cause of icepocalypse". To me it sounds like Jensen and his three kiddos spend the ice storm with Jared and the other three kids.

But as I always say, don't take my word for it, here's the timestamp. Listen for yourself and form your own opinion.

Getting back to the answer Jensen asks him what the lesson would be for Mystery Spot and Jared replies the lesson is probably: you get another chance tomorrow, and try to make everyday count cause you never know when it’s your last or when you get to do it again the next day.

Jensen says that for a lesson in overcoming your fears, Yellow Fever. x

What’s their favorite quote? Jared jokes "leave the gun, take the cannoli." That's a line from the Godfather film. His real answer is: "pain is mandatory suffering is optional". And for Jensen one he likes a lot is: "taking care of yourself takes care of more than yourself."

Then Jared brings up another movie quote, "dude you got a fucking dart in your neck" which is from the movie Old School. This man spend the time he was stuck in the house watching old movies, I can tell. He also says people don’t have feelings, feelings have people. Which Jensen is confused by and doesn’t think it makes sense, but Jared explains that what he gathers from it is feelings are not pathological you can be angry or jealous but that's not who you are. x

When are Sam and Dean going to come back down to Earth? Jensen jokingly says season 16. Then says seriously, that that’s hopefully something that gets addressed when they get the call asking if they want to put their boots back on. x

What was their favorite kill? Some in the crowd call out Ruby, and Jensen laughs saying that technically he killed her, and Jared smiles and says to the crowd "are you reading my mind?"

Jensen's answer is Chuck. It wasnt some random monster of the week kind of thing it was somebody they had many years of work together and a friendship so whenever they get to work with people they have a great history and relationship with it makes it a little bit elevated, but he’ll take a good vampire nest killing everyday.

Jared says he didn't like killing this character but as a storyteller he's going to go with Rowena because it was so difficult. Says Ruthie is the most wonderful person on the planet, and she was fantastic as Rowena but that dynamic between her and Sam- it was so tragic to him to think of Sam having to kill her, it was so difficult he remembers the day vividly, it was truly emotional. He mentions that when the character of Bobby died they talked to the producers and the writers, and they said they didn't like it either but it’s great television and the boys were like fair enough so that was kind of an initial lesson; and when the Rowena and Sam storyline came to its conclusion that was really powerful for him. x

The next fan wants to know something cool about the boys that you wouldn't be able to find online. Jared says he’s done a questionnaire a few times, and guessing about Jensen, and it's turned out they're both introverts. They'd much rather stay home than go to a red carpet; extroverts feel energized being in front of the cameras but they much rather chill. x

Next fan has two questions, the first is that they want to know if the mic stand that Jared has is the one that Jensen threw down at the SNS concert the previous night because Jared keeps adjusting it. Jensen says he doesn’t know what she’s talking about, then he asks if he really did break a stand last night, the crowd replies yes and he goes 'listen, when i come on stage and there's music I black out'. And he, once again, asks if he really did break that stand, crowd continues to say yes, he says 'well, shouldn’t have been there'. 😆

The second question is, did Jensen think about how much his recognition would grow after appearing on The Boys? He answers that he doesn’t think he and Jared go into any of these jobs, roles,or stories thinking about the impact it'll have externally. They get hired to do a job and they take it seriously, even thought it might not look like it all the time, but they have a lot of fun doing the job because they truly enjoy doing what they do that being said they're not thinking about doing things because they want the effect it's going to have on a greater scale. They're just doing their job and hopefully it resonates to people and someone out there is entertained, and if that's the case they have done their job.

Jared mentions that 5 or 6 years ago the powerball prize was like 2 billion dollars, and they bought like 20 bucks of tickets. The draw was on Saturday, on Friday they’re on set filming, it's 4am, they’re tired, they’re miserable, they're flying soon and they look at each other and ask "if you win tomorrow are you coming into work on Monday?" And the answer for both of them was yes. If somebody went up to them and said they were filming a movie for the next month and it was going to be long hours but it would make a billion dollars in the box office, or long hours but they were never going to release it, it would make no difference they would still do everyday just as hard. He just does the hardest work he can and it's therapeutic for him as well to explore different lives and lifestyles and relationships so wether you tell him it’s an independent film that will never get released or Avatar he will work just as hard. And so will Jensen. x

Last question! The fan tells Jensen that he owes her sister 24 beers because last year she asked him to go out for her birthday beer and this fan had said that because she was turning 24 it should be 24 beers, and he had said she (fan asking the question) could go with them but she wasn't 21 at the time but she just turned 21 so now she can go and that would be 21 beers. I'm mentioning all this for only two reasons cause it has nothing to do with her question, reason number 1 is that when the fan tells Jensen about him owing her sister a beer, Jared grabs Jensen's coffee out of his hand and acts like he's going to give it to her and Jensen has no reaction, he just lets him take it and waits for him to put it back in his hand, like Jared taking his coffee is the most normal thing in the world. Which it probably is because they 100% do seem like the type of couple that shares coffee.

The second reason is that when the fan mentions that he owes her 21 beers on top of her sisters 24, Jared says that's 45 beers and Jensen stops, looks at him and goes "you do math fast!" all impressed. It's quite cute cause Jensen's all 😍 and you can tell Jared's proud of himself.

Anyways the last question is, what is their version of self care? Jared says that he’s been watching Limitless with Chris Hemsworth on Clif’s recommendation that it’s really meaningful, and fun, and interesting and a lot of the stuff that's talked about on the show really resonates with him. He is very similar, he has a though time winding down, and goes back to monkey brain, which is apparently what a doctor said, that's where one panics about stuff and is always worried so certain breathing excercises have helped. Also, the endurance training they did when they ran the marathon in Seattle kinda helped cause you put your shoes on, your music, your watch to check your heartrate and then you're on the road for an hour or hour and a half so you have to put everything else away, and he blames Jensen for turning him to this cause this was the training they did together. So find somewhere you can get past that really uncomfortable point of thinking you have to be doing something. Box breathing also seems to help him cause he sweats a lot, and he's anxious and nervous.

Jensen likes playing music, he’ll just sit down with a guitar and a lot of whiskey. x

J2 Gold Panel Dallascon

[umbracirrus]

WIP Wednesday!! 💛

I can't believe it's Wednesday again! I have been getting back into working on The Perfect Storm over this past week, mostly in the form of editing previous chapters. Once I've made my way through the chapters posted so far, I'm going to update them all on AO3 at once - hopefully before I upload the next chapter!

And speaking of the next chapter... Irileth is taking her job oh so seriously, even in the middle of a festival. And somebody takes notice.... hehehe.

-------

Mead was flowing near to non-stop, and it was most certainly being downed just as fast.

Had it been anyone else consuming the alcohol as though it were the only thing keeping them alive, Irileth wouldn’t have batted an eyelid so long as they weren’t a threat to the Jarl or Whiterun. But it was Hrongar. And he thought that could go up against a Companion. A Companion was no doubt the worst possible competition when it came to the drinking of mead - they lived in a damned mead hall!

A frustrated grumble came from Hulda as she poured more mead into Hrongar’s tankard, before she waved Ysolda over to continue in her place, whatever mumbling she made afterwards drowned out completely by the cheering and chanting from the crowds as she made her way into the Bannered Mare.

Ysolda seemed much more enthusiastic in allowing the mead to flow, even if had it been a regular night, the two who were drinking would have been cut off some time ago. But then again... This was Ysolda. The woman no doubt saw an opportunity for a profit – a profit which would no doubt be coming from Balgruuf’s pockets, as far as Hrongar would have been concerned.

The idiot.

After a few more moments of watching, she felt a presence just to her side. Her hand slowly tightened its grasp around the bow which had been resting on the wall to her other side, before glancing in that direction. The last time someone had been there, it had been the Jarl himself as he said he was returning to Dragonsreach. This time though... “What?”

The man who was stood there flinched at her brisk tone, before holding his arms up in a feigned surrender. “Easy, easy – don’t hurt me. I just wanted to see if you were okay.” Her eyes narrowed at that answer, and he took a very cautious – and smart – step back. “It’s just that everyone else here looked cheerful and relaxed... But you look all serious and uptight.”

“If this is some sort of idiotic attempt at flirting, it isn’t working. Now back off before I do hurt you.”

“Oh, I’m not flirting. I’m just wondering why you are here. Such revelry is rare in these times of fighting and war... So why not partake?”

A loud cheer from the crowd around the drinking competition caught Irileth’s attention, a welcome distraction from the man’s questions. Surely he knew the futility in asking such questions? She was quite obviously trying to do something. In particular watching Hrongar, who appeared to be trying to goad his opponent’s brother who was stood to the sidelines and looking highly agitated.

“I tell you what, let’s make a deal.”

Eyes darting back towards her unwanted company, Irileth scowled. “I’m not interested. Leave me be.”

“Aw, come on! Lighten up a bit, Irileth!” She rose from where she was perched on the wall, her full attention now on the robed man as her free hand flexed, ready to throw a punch if he were to continue. How in Oblivion did he know her name? She certainly didn’t know his, and she had never introduced herself to him. “If you have a drink, I’ll let you have my staff...”

Suddenly, he had hold of her arm, which made her scoff in disgust before she promptly elbowed him in the face. He let out a painful-sounding whine as he went to bring his hands to his bloodied nose, though she paid no further attention to him after that point. He had been trying to get her to let her guard down, and that meant but one thing.

It had to be a distraction. There was no other reason for someone to bother her with all of that and be so persistent about it.

[helloalycia]

lose you [two] // leigh shaw

summary: following her kiss with you, Leigh begins to act unfairly towards you and says something she instantly regrets.

warning/s: none i don't think?

author's note: only one more part after this! hope you’re all liking it, and if you’re not an elizabeth fan, i’ve got a kara danvers two parter coming up after this so stay tuned! also the lena imagine part three one is still in the works, so don’t worry, i haven’t neglected it!

part one | part three | masterlist | wattpad

Leigh had ghosted me before. She'd done it on and off throughout the first six months following her husband's death, unable to maintain contact when she barely had energy for herself. And I was patient, always, because that's what she needed. But this was different.

Her absence in my life was nothing to do with her grief, but rather the kiss she gave me the day I decided to take her out. It just had to be that, otherwise she was merely being ignorant and I knew she wasn't that harsh without reason.

Whenever I texted or called her, it wasn't with the intention of talking about what happened. She hadn't brought it up and I didn't want to pressure her into speaking about it, especially if it was a mistake (which, selfishly, I hoped it wasn't). I just wanted to hang out with her like we used to, but she was giving me blunt responses or claiming she was busy. It was like she was doing her utmost best to push me away and I couldn't take it anymore.

After about two weeks, she simply stopped responding to my texts. Her 'busy' life was keeping her from even acknowledging my contact and that was when I couldn't put up with it any longer. This wasn't about grieving or needing space, this was about her avoiding me for something she did.

On my day off, I headed over to Beautiful Beast, Leigh's mother's fitness studio where she worked. When I arrived, Jules was sat at the front desk, wiggling a pencil before her eyes distractedly.

"You look like you're real hard at work there, Jules," I commented playfully, smiling at her as she paid me attention.

"I was testing out that whole rubber pencil trick," she said nonchalantly.

"And your conclusion?" I asked, leaning against the front desk.

She couldn't help but smile. "It's pretty cool."

I chuckled at how cute she was. "Good to know."

"So," she began, leaning back in her seat. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, I was hoping you could tell me if Leigh is in? I feel like I haven't seen her in a while."

Jules was about to respond, then her eyes fell behind me and she smiled. "Speak of the devil... there's your answer, Y/N."

I followed her gaze and realised the class that was going on in the studio had ended, with students leaving tired but happy. Leigh trailed out after them, using a sweat towel to wipe her face and push the loose strands of hair from her ponytail out of her face. She approached the desk, but upon spotting me, seemed surprised.

"Y/N," she said, rounding the desk to stand beside Jules. "You're here. Hi."

She was casual, unbothered by the fact that she'd clearly been ignoring me the past few weeks. I decided not to question it, instead offering her a small, awkward smile.

"Hey," I greeted with a nod. "I was hoping to catch you. Are you, er, busy?"

She avoided my eyes as she lowered her sweat towel, now grabbing her water bottle from the desk and busying herself with it.

"I mean, I've got class in an hour," she said with a shake of her head.

"Perfect. Maybe we can grab lunch and talk?" I asked, not giving her chance to decline since there was no reason to.

She furrowed her brows, feigning confusion. "Talk? About...?"

I pursed my lips, raising a brow with disbelief. She was seriously going to play it like this? Judging from the absent stare she was sending my way, she was. So, I glanced at Jules, who was back to distracting herself with her pencil and barely paying attention to what we were talking about, before looking back to Leigh.

"About things...?" I settled on, knowing she'd know what I meant. "I haven't heard from you in a while."

Leigh scrunched her nose, shrugging apologetically. "I'm sorry, I'd love to, but I'm going to be practicing for my next class. Maybe not today."

I kissed my teeth with annoyance. "Hm. Okay, sure. Good luck with your class, I guess."

Rolling my eyes, fed up at her pretence, I said a quick goodbye to a half-listening Jules and left them both to it. I'd like to think Leigh would come to her senses and contact me, but maybe that was wishful thinking. Either way, it was certainly not thinking for now, so I tried not to let it bother me for the time being.

—

Waiting on Leigh to make first contact was probably not the brightest idea, since I was sure if it was up to her, she'd just ghost me forever. But I was stubborn and I wanted to make a point (clearly not a very good one since she still proceeded to ignore me...), so another week passed without speaking to one another.

The only reason I went over to her house one evening was because Jules asked for my help with something. Since I was a graphic designer, she'd asked me to help design the promotional material for this new set of classes she wanted to start at work. Of course I said yes – in the many years I'd befriended Leigh, I'd also befriended Jules. I was happy to help, even if it meant awkwardly bumping into Leigh.

When I arrived, I was greeted by Leigh and Jules' mum before being led to the dining-room with Jules to help her. I tried to hide the fact that I was subtly searching for Leigh around the house, genuinely wanting to make sure she was okay despite the radio silence on her end, when Jules seemed to notice.

"She's not here," she said, making me look to her, embarrassed I'd been caught out. "She's on some date."

I raised my eyebrows, nodding. "Oh. Cool."

It shouldn't have bothered me – Leigh had been on a handful of dates in the past month, attempting to move on – but it did. Maybe it was because I foolishly thought our kiss meant something to her, since she initiated it. Clearly not, since she was already moving on. It didn't help that she couldn't just act normal with me if it meant nothing to her. No time for her best friend but time for dates with random people? Not cool.

"Did something happen with you two?" Jules asked whilst starting up her laptop.

I hid my panic with confusion. "What do you mean? Did she, er, say something?"

Jules shook her head, leaning on the palm of her hand as she glanced at me. "No, nothing. I just thought I'd ask since I haven't seen you around with her lately. Thought maybe you'd fallen out or something."

So she hadn't told her sister what happened. Maybe she really did want to forget about it.

"No, she's just been busy I guess," I mumbled in response, before pulling my memory card out my bag. "Forget that anyway. Let's see what we can do with your promo stuff, huh?"

Leigh long-forgotten, I showed Jules the designs I'd come up with for her banners and posters, which she was super excited about, and got to work. We mocked up some promotional material for her to get printed soon and she talked me through what she had in the works which was adorable since it was great to see her invested in everything. She'd come a long way from rehab and it was refreshing to witness.

We snacked so much whilst working that by the time I finished, I knew I wouldn't need to eat dinner. Jules' mum offered, but we were stuffed and it was getting late.

"If you need anything else, just let me know," I told Jules as I grabbed my bag to leave. "If you want anything changing, also let me know."

She gave me a thumbs up and a grin. "You got it, chief. Thanks again. I know you have an actual job to do an–"

"Don't do that," I stopped her with an amused smile. "I'm always happy to help you out."

She nodded appreciatively. "Well, thanks. I'll let you go."

I waved goodbye to her before shouting a goodbye to her mum and heading to the door, letting myself out. Only, when I opened the door, I squealed awkwardly upon seeing Leigh making out with some random guy on the porch. The uncontrollable noise that escaped my lips was enough to pull them apart with a start.

"Y/N," Leigh got out with shock, wiping her mouth and clearing her throat. "What are you– what?"

Still dumbfounded, I swallowed hard and looked away. "I– er– sorry to interrupt. I'm just gonna– mhm."

Closing the front door behind me, I quickly walked around the pair and began to leave, trying not to let my surprise, hurt and irritation build up inside of me. It wasn't my business if she kissed somebody else. It was her life – she could do whatever she wanted.

"Wait, Y/N!" I heard her call and winced at the sound.

Pretending not to hear her, I picked up my pace and finally made it to my parked car, fumbling for my keys in my bag under the dimly-lit streetlamp.

"Y/N, wait up!" she called again, and I risked looking up to see her approaching my car quickly, eventually stopping by my side.

Now that I had a better look, I saw that she was dressed up beautifully for her date, wearing a black dress that accentuated her curves and high heels that dared anybody not to stare. Though, when I met her gaze, I saw her ruined red lipstick and was reminded of the stranger she'd just been making out with.

"It's cool, I'm sorry," I repeated, shaking my head and wishing I could feel my keys in my bag already. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"It's not like that," she said breathlessly, holding her jacket and watching me carefully.

Finally finding my keys, I pulled them out and unlocked my car. "Not like what?" I asked, glancing at her with a tight jaw. "You can go on dates, Leigh. It's not my business."

Her expression softened. "Then why are angry?"

"I'm not angry," I said, before realising it was a little more hostile than I intended. "Look, forget it. Just enjoy your stupid date. I've got to go."

Before I could open the door, she grabbed my arm and pulled me back, eyes darkened with annoyance.

"What's your problem?" she asked impatiently.

I shook her off me and widened my eyes with disbelief. "Are you serious right now? You followed me!"

"Yeah, because you're clearly pissed at something!" she snapped, crossing her arms. "What's your problem?"

For once, I wasn't going to put up with her bullshit mood swings. It wasn't fair how she was treating me and I was going to do something about it.

"You're my problem, Leigh," I admitted with a glare. "I've been waiting for you to call or text or make some freakin' effort to acknowledge my existence, but as usual, nothing. And then to top it all off, I find out you're on some date when you can't even find a spare second to text your best friend that you're okay!"

She scoffed. "Sorry I have a life, Y/N."

Clenching my jaw, I pushed down the anger that was bubbling up inside. She looked so smug, like she'd done absolutely nothing wrong in this scenario, and it was pissing me off.

"You know what? Never mind," I gave up, releasing a shaky breath. "You clearly don't get it."

I tried to move around her and get into the driver's seat of the car, but she groaned loudly with petulance.

"Why the hell were you even here anyway?!" she asked, like she had the right to. "Couldn't you leave me alone for one night?"

I tried not to laugh. "Don't flatter yourself, love. If you'd actually bothered to talk to me, you'd know I was here to help Jules with her posters."

"Sorry that I thought that you couldn't leave me alone for two minutes," she said with a bitter smile. "It's like you don't even know how to function without me in your life."

I clenched my fists with frustration. "Wow, Leigh, big-headed much?"

She laughed dryly, shaking her head. "I kiss you once and now you won't leave me the hell alone!"

Leigh and I had been in so many arguments before this one – it's like they were inevitable with her – but I'd put up with them. I'd let her yell and call me names and treat me like shit because I knew she didn't mean it, it was a heat of the moment thing. But something was different this time. Her words stung a lot more than they should have, especially when they were delivered by somebody I thought I was in love with.

I unclenched my fists and scowled at her. "Go fuck yourself."

Not bothering to wait for her response, I ignored the way her expression changed into one of regret and guilt. I ignored her as she tried to tell me to wait. And I ignored her as her she knocked on my window when I got into the car. I didn't spare her a glance as I drove away, feeling tears prick the corner of my eyes.

Leigh Shaw could be such a bitch sometimes.

—

"Y/N, you've got a–"

"Whatever it is, I'll sort it," I reassured my new assistant. Ever since my promotion, it felt strange to have somebody work for me, but I was slowly getting used to. "Go have your break, Taylor! You've not moved from this seat all day."

Taylor smiled bashfully but nodded. "Okay. Thanks a lot."

I gave her a reassuring smile as I watched her leave. I'd just finished a long meeting with a client and couldn't wait to get to my office and procrastinate for a bit before getting on with some work. Only, when I opened the door, I was surprised to find someone sat in the seat in front of my desk. Maybe that's what Taylor was trying to tell me. 

"Hello, can I help you?" I called politely, closing the door and stepping inside.

"I like the new digs."

I froze, smile fading when the stranger stood up and turned around. It was Leigh and I wasn't sure how she'd gotten here, but I wasn't dealing with her right now.

it had been a few days since we'd argued and she'd been trying to get in touch, but I completely blocked her number. It wasn't a permanent decision, but rather a temporary solution to a problem I wasn't in the headspace to deal with right now.

Every time I thought about Leigh or what she'd said, I felt so angry and fed up. She had no right to treat me how she did or make me feel like this when it was her fault. Blocking her was the easiest bet until I decided how to deal with everything. Clearly she hadn't gotten the hint though, since she was waiting for me in my office.

"How did you get in here?" I asked through gritted teeth, trying not to roll my eyes at the stupid smile on her face.

"Your new assistant let me in," she said as I headed to my desk, before adding comically, "She definitely has a crush on you by the way."

I narrowed my eyes at her from across the desk. "You need to leave."

Her humour disappeared, as did her smile, when she met my gaze with remorseful eyes. "I just want to talk."

I shook my head, looking down. "No, this isn't the place for this. And I've heard everything you had to say, Leigh."

"Y/N, please," she pleaded, stepping forward. "I want to apologise."

With a stern stare, I said, "Go."

"Please, just hear me–"

"No!" I erupted with anger, making her jump at the volume of my voice. "You don't get to do this! Not now, not here!" Swallowing the lump in my throat and trying to hide the hurt in my voice, I nodded to the door. "Just get out. After all, I wouldn't want you thinking I'm obsessed with you."

She pressed her lips together and looked down to her fumbling hands with guilt. It was quiet, though the air between us screamed with unspoken words. I hated this so much, the arguing, the anger, the resentment. But I wasn't giving in this time. She'd gone too far and she had to learn that her actions had consequences. She couldn't just get away with it. She had to respect my space.

"I'm sorry," she said gently, looking up with a genuine expression.

I clenched my jaw and said nothing as I waited for her to leave. Finally, she pursed her lips before turning around and going. When the door closed behind her, I let out a breath and sank into my chair, feeling exhausted at the short conversation. I wasn't ready to talk to her yet and I wished she'd just respect that.

Following that, I made sure to tell Taylor when she came back from her break to not let Leigh into my office until further notice. Or rather, not let her upstairs until further notice. She wasn't allowed to bother me in my workplace just because she felt bad.

Of course, not letting her in only meant I received more calls. Especially since I blocked her number, so she deemed it appropriate to call my work phone. Every time Taylor came into my office to let me know it was Leigh, I had to tell her to tell Leigh I was busy and end the call. And the times when I wasn't there, I had several messages from Leigh to reply to. It got to a point where I had to temporarily block her number from work, too. It was the only way to have some space without completely flipping out on Leigh.

One day though, Leigh decided to pay me a visit. She was resilient, I'd give her that much.

Taylor asked me what I wanted for lunch when I said I was in the mood to go out and eat and she could join me if she wanted to. She agreed and we both made our way to the bottom floor before leaving the building. But then I saw Leigh hovering about outside the front door, approaching me as soon as she spotted me.

Already rolling my eyes, I tried to sidestep her, but she was adamant on being a pain in my arse.

"Leave me alone, Leigh," I told her tiredly.

"They won't let me in and you've been avoiding my calls," she said, a little peeved. "What were you expecting?" Her eyes flickered to Taylor, who seemed awkwardly stuck between our bickering. Rather rudely, she asked, "Can I help you?"

Taylor didn't know what to say as I glared at Leigh harshly.

"Don't be a bitch just because you're pissed at me," I insulted, before looking Taylor apologetically. "D'you think you can give us a minute, Taylor? This won't take long."

Taylor nodded, glancing between Leigh and I. Leigh had her arms crossed, focusing a hard stare on Taylor as she walked away. When she was out of earshot, I lightly poked Leigh in the shoulder to get her attention.

"That's not fair," I muttered angrily. "She didn't do anything to you."

Leigh glanced towards her again before looking to me questioningly. "Where are you even going with her?"

I squinted at her judgementally. "If you must know, we're getting lunch. It's that time of the day in case you couldn't tell."

Leigh uncrossed her arms and straightened up. "So, what? This is a date?"

I furrowed my brows. "What? No! What are you–?" I glared at her. "This is none of your business!"

"Well, if it's not, you're definitely gonna give her the wrong impression," Leigh stated with a shrug. "She has a crush on you. Is that even allowed since you're her superior an' all?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose to contain my frustration, before meeting her spiteful green stare.

"If you came here to give me your unsolicited opinions, I don't want them," I said under my breath, making sure passers-by on the street couldn't hear us. "Now, leave me alone."

Her spite dispersed and was replaced with guilt. "Wait, no, I–"

"No, Leigh," I told her firmly, eyes silently pleading for her to give me some space. "You have to stop this."

Green eyes searched mine desperately, but I didn't have time for this, so I left her standing there as I rejoined Taylor and hoped lunch would help me forget about Leigh and her impatience.

"Sorry about that," I said to Taylor when I rejoined her side.

Taylor smiled reassuringly as we began to walk. "It's okay, don't worry about it." It was quiet, before she spoke up again. "Do you mind if I say something a little out of place?"

I looked to her curiously. "Er, sure?"

"I obviously don't know the specifics of what happened between you and your girlfriend, but–"

"Girlfriend?" I interrupted with raised brows. "Taylor, Leigh and I– we aren't–"

She seemed to catch on, eyes wide with embarrassment. "Oh! I'm so sorry! I just thought– well, she's very persistent and I thought that maybe you were together and in a lover's spout or something."

Heat crept up my neck as I loosened my collar. "No, nothing like that. She's just a friend."

Breathing out, Taylor said, "Oh. Well, I mean, I guess my advice still applies. She seems to really care about you."

I snorted. "She has a funny way of showing it."

Taylor smiled. "I know. My boyfriend is the same. We once had an argument and he did the same thing your Leigh is doing. Wouldn't stop bothering me. At home. At work. I let my stubbornness get to me and didn't want to hear him out."

I pursed my lips, glancing at her. "What did you do?"

She laughed like it was obvious. "I heard him out."

That didn't sound like an option for me right now.

"She doesn't respect my personal space," I explained to Taylor, glad to have someone to vent to. "She did some... hurtful things. I'm not making it easy for her."

"Clearly," Taylor noted with amusement. "Look, that's just my experience. But all I'm saying is that your friend Leigh seems to care about you a lot. To the point that she'd glare daggers at your very unavailable assistant."

Goddamn Leigh and her ability to embarrass me even when she wasn't here.

"Thanks, Taylor," I said appreciatively. "I'll have a think about it."

She nodded knowingly. "Anytime."

I definitely wasn’t ready to hear Leigh out yet, I knew that much.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love and Medicine ~ 15

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 4,365ish

Summary: The divorce papers are still an issue. (Grey’s Anatomy 2x05) [Finally! I know. Thank you for being patient with me!]

You grabbed your things and rushed out of the bar. Steve quickly did the same.

“Y/N,” Steve called.

“No. I don’t want to talk about this,” you replied, heading down the street. “Not now. Not with you.”

“Y/N…”

“You didn’t sign the divorce papers. Fine. I get it. End of discussion.”

“Y/N.”

“What?!?” You finally spun around to face him.

“Oh… I usually just say ‘Y/N’ and then you yell at me. I haven’t really thought past that point.” You scowled and shook your head. “I actually didn’t have anything planned.” You hit him with your bag. “Hey!” He rubbed his arm. “What is with that?” You did it a few more times. “Hey stop it. Ow.”

“Seriously?! Seriously?! You know what, just leave me alone.”

Steve reached for you. “Y/N—“

“Stop it! I said leave me alone! I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

You stormed off, heading to find your car so that you could go back home. You were pissed at Steve and, mostly, yourself. How could you let yourself believe that he would be so willing to sign those divorce papers to be with you?

~~~ 

All you interns had just finished rounds and Gamora had you all in the hallway for assignments. Before she could call them out, Peggy interrupted.

“Has anyone seen Dr. Rogers this morning?” She wondered.

“His name is on the OR board,” Gamora answered. “He should be here somewhere.”

“Thank you.” Peggy swiftly walked off.

“Quill, Lang, you’re in the pit today. Val, there’s a cardiac patient waiting up for you on 2. Barton, they need help in peds. Romanoff, keep an eye on the Longs. And L/N, you’re with Rogers. I don’t want any problems. Go.”

Everyone hurried away while you stayed put. “Rogers?” You whispered. “Uh, I guess, which one?”

“Steve.”

“Uh, I don’t think—“

“Hey, life is short. Times are hard. The road is long with many a winding turn,” Gamora sassed. “He actually asked for you. Take it up with him.” Gamora walked away.

“Shit.”

“Shit? Oh no,” Tony showed up beside you. “It’s only morning. What’s wrong already?”

“Steve didn’t sign the divorce papers.”

“Oh,” Tony grimaced. 

“And now he’s asked for me to be on his service today.”

“Well, maybe he will sign them. He just has to think about it.”

“But I don’t want him to think about it. I want it… I want…”

“You want to be the obvious choice. I get it.”

“Yeah… how’s trying to get Pepper going?”

“I think I almost have her. I’ve been in on all her surgeries that I can be. Fury and Hill are even making it work.”

“Wow. I wish I had everyone on my side. But… I don’t and it doesn’t matter anymore. It has to be his choice, not mine, not me pleading or begging. It needs to be all him.”

“Wise,” Tony nodded. “I still think he’ll choose you.”

“We will see… we will see…”

~~~

“Y/N,” Steve greeted when you found him.

“Your wife is looking for you,” you responded.

“Oh, my gosh,” he sighed. “This is hard for me, Y/N.”

“Well, let me make it easy then. I’m not gonna be that woman. The one who breaks up a marriage or begs you to want me. You can sign the papers or you cannot. The choice is yours. Either way, when it comes to this relationship, I’m out.” Steve’s eyes widened and he went to speak but you quickly cut him off. “Nope. We aren’t getting into it anymore. Now, where’s this patient I’m supposed to be helping with.”

Steve pointed behind him. “Down there. But, Y/N—“

“No.” You walked away, Steve following.

“Y/N—“

“No.”

Finally letting it go, Steve sighed and followed you into the patient’s room. There was a young woman on the bed.

“Good morning,” Steve greeted.

“Morning Dr. Rogers,” she responded.

“This is Dr. L/N.”

“Hello,” you greeted. “Can you tell us about your pain?”

“I’ve had a twinge in my back for a little while,” the young woman explained. “I thought it would go away, but then last night my legs went numb. And this morning my back… the pain is just too much.”

“Miss Yang, we’re going to put you on a PCA pump,” Steve said, “give you some morphine which should help control the pain.”

“Thank you.”

“Okay, but there is a bigger problem here. I’ve just take a look at your MRI—“

“Cris!” A man exclaimed, him and a woman rushing into the room and to the young woman’s bedside. “Why didn’t you call us before coming down here?”

“I’m sorry,” Cris said. She turned to look at you and Steve. “These are my parents.”

“What’s going on?”

“I was just about to explain that Cris’s MRI has shown that she has myxopapillary ependymoma,” Steve answered. “It’s a tumor in her spinal canal. But the good news is that we can operate. You have a 95% chance of fully if we get you into surgery as soon as possible. We can’t wait another moment. With a tumor this aggressive even waiting another day puts you at risk of permanent paralysis.”

“Father?” Cris questioned, looking to the man.

Mr. Yang shook his head. “No,” he said. “No surgery.”

“Mr. Yang, without surgery Cris will be paralyzed, probably within the next 24 hours,” Steve said.

“There will be no surgery today. We’re taking her home.”

“Cris needs the surgery,” you pressed.

“And she can have it at another time.”

“Look,” Steve tried again, “Mr. Yang—“

“We are taking our daughter home.”

Steve looked at Cris. “Cris, you are over 18. You don’t need your father’s consent.”

“I am Hmong, and my father is the elder,” Cris explained. “He says I go home, I go home.”

You could tell that Steve was holding back from a harsh reply. He gave Mr. Yang a nod before leaving the room, you following after him.

“Hmong? Let’s find out what that means,” Steve said.

“Do I continue to process her discharge?” You wondered.

“Yeah we have to. It’s insane, but we have to. It reminds me of this case I had one time and this woman came to the office and—“

“Look, do you need me for anything else work related?”

Steve looked around the hallway before pulling you into an on-call room with him.

“Look, I was married for 11 years,” Steve began. “Peggy is my family. That is 11 Thanksgivings, 11 birthdays and 11 Christmases. And in one day, I’m supposed to sign a piece of paper and end my family? A person doesn’t do that. Not without a little hesitation. I’m entitled to a little uncertainty here! At least a moment to understand the magnitude to what it means to cut somebody out of my life. I’m entitled to at least one moment of painful doubt. And a little understanding from you would be nice.”

“I am not fighting you on this,” you responded, opening the door. “Not anymore.”

You stormed away. Leaving both you and Steve in an confused state of anger.

~~~

Bruce was walking down the hall when he noticed Peggy.

“Dr. Rogers,” he greeted. “Still here, I see.”

“I couldn’t leave you,” she responded with a smile. “Have you seen the other Dr. Rogers by chance?”

“I’ll tell him you’re looking for him.”

“Thanks,” Peggy walked off and Natasha walked up.

“So, um, thanks for, uh, being there,” she said softly.

“No thanks needed,” Bruce responded.

“Okay.”

“So where are we?”

“Uh, the north-east corner of a medical center.” Bruce glared at her. “Oh, I’m, I’m getting back on my feet.”

“Fine.”

“That doesn’t mean that—“

“Natasha.”

“It’s my first day back, I’ve… I’ve got—“

“I’m not waiting forever.” The lights flickered, causing the two of them to glance up. “And, apparently, I’m not the only one.”

“Dr. Banner!” Nurse Vision jogged up. “There’s a problem with the elevator!”

“And?”

“Dr. Quill and Dr. Barton are stuck in it with your GSW patient that they were bringing up to the OR.”

“I should have fought harder for the pit,” Natasha grumbled.

~~~

“Lightning hit a sub station,” Maria Hill told Fury as they walked down the hall with Peggy. “We’re running on back up generators.” The medical center had lost its power. “One of them is down.” 

Fury stopped, causing the others to do so as well. He rested his hands on his hips, annoyed.

“Breathe, Nick,” Peggy guided. “Breathe.”

“Don’t tell me to breathe, damn it!” He exclaimed. “The only direct means of transporting from the ER to the OR isn’t working. I’ll breathe if I wanna breathe.”

Fury huffed before making his way to the elevators. Gamora and Banner were there, watching some men pry open an elevator.

“How bad is it?” Fury asked.

“Two interns and a GSW to the chest,” Bruce explained.

Fury closed his eyes and put his hand to his forehead.

“Good air in,” Peggy coaxed, doing it herself. “Bad air out.”

Fury gave her a look before turning his attention back on the elevator. “Come on people! Get those doors open!”

The men working on the elevator doors, finally get the door partially open. Revealing that the elevator car was caught between floors. Peter and Clint were in there with their GSW patient.

“It’s jammed,” one of the workers said. “It won’t open anymore. This is as wide as it will go.”

“What did you two do?” Gamora asked the interns in the elevator, kneeling down to see them better.

“Nothing!” They both exclaimed.

“How’s the patient?” Bruce asked, getting down beside Gamora.

“He’s not looking so good,” Clint answered.

~~~

“Why do the lights keep flickering?” Cris asked.

“Something about a backup generator,” you answered, finishing up hooking the morphine up to her IV. “This pump will provide you with a morphine drip and should stop your pain.”

“I told you, I don’t need it. I’m going home.”

“You realize you’ll have to sign an AMA form stating that you’re leaving against medical advice.”

“Fine,” she nodded.

“I know this is new and confusing. I actually called a social worker, they’re willing to come down and talk to you—“

“Spare me the cultural divide, love. I grew up from the street down here. I play in a band. I get it. My father doesn’t. He says no, it’s no.”

“We’re talking about your ability to ever walk again.”

“That’s what you're talking about. I’m talking about my family. Have you ever even heard of the Hmong people?” You shook your head. “Our religion has got rules that are way old and way set in stone and way spiritual and you don’t mess with them.” She sighed. “You don’t anger the ancestors. Even if you pierce your tongue and play in a band.”

“What are the rules exactly?”

~~~

“Rogers!” Gamora shouted as she headed towards Steve. “You’re wife is looking for you.”

“I know,” he responded.

“Are you actively avoiding her?”

“Maybe,” he shrugged.

Gamora scoffed, shaking her head as she walked away. “You’ve got to deal with your problems before they all blow up in this medical center!”

“Steve,” you called, coming up beside him.

“Yes?” He replied, turning to look at you.

“You need to talk to Cris’s father. I’d do it myself but I guess having testicles is a requirement.”

Steve sighed. “Did you try social services?”

“They can’t help us. Mr. Yang believes that Cris is missing something that she needs for surgery.”

“Missing something? Missing what?”

“One of her souls. We don’t need someone from social services. We need a shaman.”

~~~

Peter and Clint were still stuck in the elevator with their patient, Tommy. The patient was getting delirious, trying to sit up and pull out the tubes and wires.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Peter asked, trying to stop him.

“I have to get home,” Tommy said.

“Tom, you’re in the hospital.”

He sat up. “Need to get home.” Clint and Peter quickly worked to restrain him. “No. Need to get home.”

Dr. Banner, hearing the commotion, peered through the small opening of the elevator doors. “What’s his blood pressure?” The attending asked.

“It’s not reading,” Clint informed. “He’s too agitated.”

“How’s his pulse?”

“Thready but it’s still there,” Peter answered.

“Do you have any instruments?”

“Uh, we have…” Peter quickly looked around. “Uh, just a code box and some gloves.”

“You didn’t bring an open chest tray?”

“No. We thought—“

“You don’t have time for excuses. Barton, blood pressure.”

“I’ve taken it 3 times,” Clint replied.

“And?”

“I can’t hear systolic over 50.” Clint looked down at Tommy, who is really pale and wheezing. “He’s gonna die.” Both interns look at each other, scared.

“Intubate him,” Bruce ordered. “I’ll be right back.” He went to push himself up off the floor.

“Wait! Where are you going?”

“To get an instrument tray. You guys are going to have to open up his chest.”

Clint and Peter looked back at each, minds going a mile a minute as Banner stood up. Gamora was behind him, having heard the whole thing.

“Are you sure about having them open his chest?” Gamora asked.

“No,” he answered before he hurried away.

~~~

Chief Fury and Dr. Hill were walking down the hall together.

“This is incogitable,” Fury said. “There’s not enough power to move those elevators?”

“They’re doing what they can to replace the back up generator now,” Hill responded. “Fire department is standing by.”

“All critical patients?”

“Moved to the south wing.”

“Incoming trauma?”

“Re-routed to the other medical centers.”

“That damn back-up generator should’ve been replaced last year.”

“Yes, sir.”

“So why didn’t it happen? Dr. Hill, you know everything. Tell me whose ass I need to kick.”

“That would be your ass, Chief. You didn’t authorize the replacement generator to save money for the new MRI machine.”

Not wanting to show weakness, Fury walked away. Grumbling under his breath as he went.

~~~

It didn’t take long for Bruce to return to the elevator with the things the interns would need.

“This isn’t gonna be too sterile,” Bruce said as he got down to hand them the tools, “but we can still try. Prep and drape the patient.”

“On it,” Clint responded, quickly getting to work.

Peter stood there for a moment, nervously staring at Tommy. Eventually, he snapped out of it, shakily helping.

“Okay…” Peter breathed out once they were finished. “We’re really going to do this.”

Clint just looked at him, both interns feeling completely unprepared, as he kept squeezing air into the patient. Bruce stuck his hand back through with a pair of scissors and a scalpel in it. He hands them towards Peter, looking at him expectedly.

“Take these,” the attending said. Peter just looked at them, remaining still. “Quill, take the scalpel.” Peter just continued to stand frozen.

“Come on, Peter!” Clint exclaimed. “Take the damn scalpel!”

Dr. Banner looked at Peter, completely confused as to way the intern wasn’t moving. Bruce shook his hand to signal for Peter to take the instruments. But the intern looked away.

“Ventilate!” Clint demanded, annoyed at Peter as he shoved what he was holding into Peter’s hands. “I got it.” Clint swiped the instruments from Dr. Banner. He shot Peter an angry look. “Okay,” Clint looked to Dr. Banner. “What do I do?”

“Make a large anterior, lateral, mid-auxiliary incision in the 5th intercostal space,” Bruce directed.

“How—how large?”

“As long as possible. You need to get 2 hands in there. It needs to be long and deep. Use the scissors if you have to.” Peter then made eye contact with Bruce. “Quill, hold a light up for Barton while you’re ventilating. You can do that, right?” 

Peter nodded, grabbing a flashlight from Banner. Clint took a deep breath. He was about to cut when Bruce startled him.

“Barton, be sure you don’t cut into the lobe of the heart,” Bruce warned.

“Uh… how—“ Clint paused to clear his throat. “How can I be sure of that?”

“You just have to be sure.”

“We’ll, uh, we’re definitely not in Kansas anymore,” Clint tried to joke before cutting into Pete’s chest.

~~~

You walked up to Cris’ room. Steve was standing outside, watching the patient and her father interact.

“Is the shaman here yet?” You asked.

“He’s late,” Steve replied. He glanced down at the watch on his wrist. “We need to get her into surgery right now.”

Before you really thought about it, you put a comforting hand on Steve’s arm. “It will work out.”

Steve looked down at your hand and then at you. You two stared at each other, lost in the others eyes. It was too long before you realized that you two were too close for your liking and that your hand was still on his arm.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, stepping back.

“Y/N, please just—“

You shook your head. “I’ll see how far our shaman’s out.” And you hurried away.

~~~

Bruce hadn’t moved from his viewpoint of inside the elevator. It had been a while now since Clint had cut into Tommy, but Bruce couldn’t see exactly what was going on.

“Barton, how are you doing down there?” He asked.

“Bruce,” Maria Hill said before Clint could answer. “The fire department’s here. They can get the doors open.”

“No!” Bruce turned to look at the crowd behind him. “Nobody moves. Nobody works not he elevator. I have an open chest and a very nervous intern in there. Keep them back until I give the word.” Dr. Hill nodded, motioning everyone back, before Bruce focused back on inside the elevator. “Clint.”

“I didn’t cut the heart or the lungs,” Clint answered, clearly surprised. “Dr. Banner, I didn’t cut the heart or the lungs!”

“Good, good. Very good. Now check for injuries and do a pericardiotomy.”

“Uh, I’ll need some lap pads, forceps, Metzenbaums and Satinksy clamps then.”

Bruce gave a light smile and a nod. “Yes, you will.”

Clint was quickly given the supplies and got to work. 

“Okay… I’ve removed the small clot from the pericardium,” Clint informed Dr. Banner. “No obvious cardiac injuries.”

“Any change in the vitals?” Bruce wondered.

“BP’s still too low to register on the monitor,” Peter spoke up.

“We need to cross clamp the aorta.”

Clint grabbed the clamp from a tray next to him and put it through the opening.

“Stick your hand in and bluntly dissect down until you feel two tube-like structures,” Bruce guided. “The esophagus will be more medical and anterior.”

Clint stuck both his bands in the open chest. “Ah, I feel one tube that is easily collapsible and the other I store muscular, spongy. I can also feel the spine, just underneath it.”

“Yes, you’re touching the aorta.”

The intern grinned. “I’m touching the aorta.”

“Wrap the index finger of your left hand around it and apply a Satinsky clamp with your right hand.”

Clint put in the clamp. “Got it… Wait, I… I think I can localize the bleeding. I… Well… I think it’s coming from the inferior vena cava.”

“Can you find the lesion?”

“Yeah. Yeah… I think I can feel, ah—it’s too far in to repair.”

“Can you tell me how big it is?”

“Small, maybe… like, smaller than a dime.”

“Okay then Barton, I want you to take your finger and plug the hole.”

Clint nodded and did as directed. “I think I can feel his heart… it’s… it’s starting to fill more. It’s beating a little stronger.”

“Excellent. Keep your finger there.”

“Okay. Now what?”

“That’s it.”

“Really?” Bruce turned to lay on his back in relief. “I just stand here with my finger plugging the hole?”

“Yes. Until we can get you out of that elevator and into the OR.” Bruce lifted his head and looked at Dr. Hill. “Tell the fire department to get them out of there.”

“On it,” Hill responded.

Bruce rolled back over and looked at Clint. “Barton.”

“Yes, sir?” The intern replied.

“You just flew solo.”

~~~

“Okay, Cris. We’re going to shut off the PCA pump now,” you began explaining, “which means you will be in a lot of pain for the duration of the—“

“The healing ritual,” Cris interrupted.

“Are you going to be okay with that?”

“Yeah. I can’t find my soul if I’m medicated. No pain, no gain, right?”

“Just, tell me this… you believe in it all too, right? You’re not just doing this for your father.”

“I know it sounds like a load of crap but… just watch the ritual. You’ll see.”

“See what?”

“The moment it happens.” You nodded as the shaman came in with Cris’ family. She looked at them. “I’m ready.”

To give them some room, you and Steve watched and waiting from outside the room.

“How long do you think it takes to retrieve a lost soul?” Steve asked.

“I don’t know,” you replied.

You and Steve carefully watched the healing ritual. And you did see what Cris was talking about. The moment it happened. You didn’t have to believe in it, but you did find a new found respect for her beliefs.

~~~

During Cris’ surgery, you and Steve worked in tandem. You felt weighed down the whole time though. Peggy stood watch in the gallery, smiling down at Steve. He looked up every so often, always looking at his wife. You noticed each time.

You had already finished scrubbing out of surgery by the time Steve started himself. You were outside the scrub room, pacing. You couldn’t do this, this whole pretending to not care thing. It was too hard. You burst into the scrub room, Steve immediately looking at you.

“I lied,” you said. “I’m not out of this relationship. I’m in. I’m so in, it’s humiliating because here I am, going to beg—“

“Y/N,” Steve interrupted quietly.

“Just shut up. You say Y/N and I yell, remember?”

“Yeah.” He leaned away the sink, listening.

“Okay, here it is,” you took a deep breath. “Your choice. It’s simple.” You started to get emotional. Damn it, you loved this man too much. “Her or me. And I’m sure she’s really great. But, Steve… I love you… in a really, really big, “pretend to like your taste in music, let you eat the last piece of cheesecake, hold a radio over my head outside your window”… unfortunate way that makes me hate you, love you. So pick me. Choose me. Love me.”

Steve was staring at you lovingly. He moved to touch you, but you pulled away.

“I’ll be at Happy’s tonight,” you continued. “So if you decide to sign the papers, meet me there.”

Then you walked out. Steve, distressed now, sighed. What was he going to do?

~~~

“Do you think he’ll show?” You asked, doing a tequila shot.

“He’ll show,” Happy said.

The door opened. You turned to the door hopefully, but it’s just Tony walking in. He came over, took off his suit coat and sat next to you at the bar.

“I got your message,” Tony said, motioning for Happy to get him a drink. “You gave him a choice, brave.” He nodded. “But he’s not stupid, though love does make you stupid sometimes. He’ll chose you.” Happy handed him a drink. “Thank you.” 

“Are you sure?” You questioned. “I… I literally told him that I loved him. I’ve… I’ve never done that before.”

“He loves you too. He’s just an idiot.”

~~~

Steve was sitting in a doctor’s lounge at the hospital, fidgeting with a pen. The divorce papers were in a manila envelope on the table in front of him. Gamora entered the room, dressed up.

“How’s your patient?” Gamora asked as she put some things away. “The one who got her soul back?”

“She’s gonna be fine,” Steve responded. He looked up at took Gamora in. “Look at you. I’ve never seen you dressed up.”

“Yeah, well, I’m suppose to have a date tonight.”

“Yeah? Anyone I know?”

“Like I’d tell you.” Gamora noticed the pen in Steve’s hand and the envelope on the table. “You haven’t signed those divorce papers yet, have you?” 

Steve shook his head. “Gamora.” He looked at her, pleading. “Tell me what to do.”

“Not a chance.”

“Why does this have to be so hard?”

“It’s not hard. It’s painful, but it’s not hard. You know what to do already. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be in this much pain.”

“I guess you’re right.” Steve sighed. “I shouldn’t keep you. Good luck on your date.”

~~~

Natasha found Bruce in the stairwell, as he went to find an on-call room.

“Hey,” Natasha stopped him, “I… So…” She sighed. “Here’s where we are. I work too much. I’m competitive. I’m always right. And I snore.” 

Bruce looked at her confused. “What?”

“I’m trying here.”

Still looking confused, Bruce took a moment to think it out. “Oh! Ohhhh…”

“Yeah.” 

“So?”

“Okay. We’re a couple. Whatever. DOn’t make a big deal about it.” 

She began walking away. Natasha quickly paused though and turned around. She hurried to Bruce, kissed him, and hurried down the stairs.

~~~

Peggy found Steve in the doctor’s lounge.

“There you are,” she said. “I’ve been looking, well, everywhere for you.”

“Well, you found me,” Steve responded.

“So?” She glanced down at the envelope. “Are you going to sign those divorce papers or not?”

~~~

You were still waiting at the bar. Tony was there, but so was Pepper. So as he flirted with her, he kept an eye on you. Val, Clint, and Scott had joined you.

“He’s not going to come,” you sighed. “You all don’t think he’s coming.”

“He might come,” Val said.

“Yeah, you never know,” Scott agreed.

“He’s definitely coming,” Clint said. Val quickly kicked him from under the bar. “Ow. What? Do you want her doing tequila shots all night? I’ll be the one cleaning up the vomit. Besides, I feel good. I touched a heart today.”

The bell on the door went off again. They all turned to look, but it wasn’t Steve. You sighed and turned back to Happy.

“Pour me another one.”

next chapter >

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[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

why does jean warn up to mc so quickly? ikevamp makes it clear that jean is a pretty reserved person and doesn't open up or let people in easily but he seems to let mc in quite quickly and it confuses me quite a bit.

Oh boy, where to begin with this one.

Well, I have a lot of Feelings^TM about this, but I'll try to be concise. Essentially, I think Jeanne doesn't recover in the other routes--or the general storyline--largely because he's just a lot to unpack narratively speaking. And without some pretty direct intervention, he has a hard time healing. MC’s direct intervention was meaningful because it was focused, consistent, and adapted to Jeanne’s specific needs. She also doesn’t make light of his experiences which is key; she fully understands that she can’t fathom what he’s been through. There is a very weighty respect and acknowledgement, a seriousness with which she treats his wounds that’s important.

It’s easy to make this a “why is MC nOt LiKe ThE oThEr GiRlS” but honestly that’s just not the sense I get when I look at all the information available to us. 

That being said, I also just feel like every person's recovery from traumatic events doesn't really look the same? I mean Leonardo’s cptsd isn’t going to operate the same way Jeanne’s wartime/Inquisition cptsd is going to operate. Some people require very individualized healing, others will often require a large scale group effort to lift them up.

Typically people don't ever just get over what happened to them and never worry about it again, either. It's usually a process of coping; the hope is that with time you find healthy ways to deal with grief and move forward. Therapists aren't magicians, they just help people process painful experiences/thoughts. It's honestly up to individuals to find meaningful ways to implement these tactics. 

Tl; dr: My contention is that Jeanne doesn’t open up or choose to stay alive because MC magically heals him, rather his recovery is a convergence of many people’s efforts and hopes that he stays alive. Gilles (he insists that Jeanne must live, asks him to promise), MC (affirms and bolsters that promise), Comte (makes a second life and recovery possible)--and in no small measure Mozart and Napoleon--all make an active effort to buoy him. As people often say, it takes a village to raise a child.

While Jeanne seems to respond most powerfully to MC’s attempts, it feels more like a product of chemistry/compatibility than it does a random cop out. There is no insinuation that only romantic love can heal; after all, MC gets close to him without any romantic intentions at first. They’re just good friends? It’s more that their feelings simply moved in a different direction after a point, which doesn’t necessarily happen all the time. Jeanne is also incredibly moved by Mozart’s love for him as a friend, Comte’s love for him as a father, and even Gilles’ love as a comrade to an extent. If anything, without their input Jeanne’s capacity for romantic love would be questionable at best.

Now, because I can never for the life of me stop analyzing, I have a more large scale outline of my thoughts below. Spoilers for Jeanne’s route:

If we look at Jeanne's life history, he has pretty specific trauma. Most of the harm he endured was a direct result of human rights violations after the war itself. He didn't enjoy fighting and killing people, but he's also very much a man that sees the reality of his position: it's either kill or be killed. His entire goal was to defeat the enemy as efficiently as possible in the hopes of ending conflict, and with his enormous resolve turns the tide. He had no innate interest in inflicting harm, or lack of control when engaging. He isn't pathological about it, and doesn’t dehumanize the other side. He was more "this was an act of necessity, but those are still human beings." So as far as I can tell he has a very strong moral compass and sense of duty, he doesn't show much delusion/confusion in that regard. (Also evident in his conversations with the young orphan boy.) Furthermore, he has been shown to have a sense of humor--cracking jokes with Gilles and boosting morale for his fellow soldiers.

His childhood abandonment is significant (he left his home because he was "not an adequate farmhand and they had no ability to feed all their children") but I don't know if I would consider it a huge trauma point for him. It seems as though he deemed it an act of necessity--not spite. It was simply the way of things, and he couldn't help his wiry constitution. You'd be surprised how common that was once upon a time, tbh... While it's certainly not right or fair, it does appear that in his perception it was the choice he made and he moved on after he became a soldier. Just focusing on what he could do, rather than everything he lacked. For people in his position, they often feel it is useless to linger on what should have been. There’s no time to linger or doubt, life hangs in the balance.

That leaves us with his time under the Inquisition, just before he was slated to be burned alive. I think this is the keystone trauma point for him, because there are a lot of moving parts to his powerlessness here. The first part is that his entire life's mission--ending the war so that people would no longer have to die and/or starve as a result of senseless violence--was just sabotaged. All those years of doing things he never wanted to do (wartime violence) and being forced to leave his family to ensure they didn't all starve, all of it treated like some kind of joke. Like he didn't sacrifice years of his life and sanity to protect a people who were happy to call him a monster and watch him burn alive. The second part is the overt gaslighting and rewriting of Jeanne's personal history (and overall French public perception) for the sake of the King's political agenda. To call him a treasonous danger to the country when he was once lauded a hero. The third portion is the actual physical helplessness of being arrested, starved, and continuously maimed for no reason beyond pure malice. While it's never right to do that to any human being, this was done to a man who prided himself on his stalwart moral code. To abuse and torture him for something egregious that he would never do (at the risk of death) is just another slap in the face to everything he is and believes in.

I just feel like the context clarifies why that period of time would be the tipping point. His entire moral code and life’s work is being called into question and swept aside, as well as his agency? He believes very powerfully in a sense of right vs wrong, what's fair and what isn't fair. Somebody else deciding that for him--and deciding in a way that is openly unfair/incorrect--further makes him lose himself and his sense of reality. A person in that situation begins to doubt if they are good or bad. His belief in god all the more pressing; if he was a good person, why would fate bring him so much suffering? Honorable soldier or not, his blade has drawn so much blood...

People often reference his stilted social skills (and I am of the belief that he is on the autistic spectrum) as a reason why he is so "people-adverse" but tbh? I don't agree. His memories before the onset of this trauma reveal that he was actually a very warm person, and that people were more than willing to fight under his banner. He had friends, and he had comrades--his country loved him. He was the picture of well-meaning civic duty. Just because he doesn’t integrate smoothly into larger social groups or adapt well to socially shifting circumstances, doesn’t mean he just hates people lmao. When people give him the space to exist within his comfort zone and don’t take advantage of him, he thrives. Compounded by that, we also have his actions in the present to further prove what is true and what isn't.

While he is stern with the orphan boy (I'm sorry I can't remember his name, damn it) there is no malice or cruelty in what he has to say. He doesn't punish the kid or do anything out of line. It may not be fair in terms of the adult level of discretion he asks of him, but the kid also didn't have a lot of options realistically speaking lmao. Same thing with MC, she and the orphan boy are nearly identical in how Jeanne treats them. He's a little rough, but the route reveals that his intentions are just a reflection of what he's been through. He truly believes that if a person isn't strong, they won't survive--because his entire life was a series of trying to be strong/reliable because nobody else would. There was nobody to protect him, and nobody to care for him went things went south. It was him and his sword against the world, and even his exceptional skill as a fighter did not protect him from the Inquisition's arbitrary torture. He has lived in a world where good acts can become absolutely meaningless, where following rules and helping people still gets you slaughtered. That's going to take a considerable toll on his mental health: where do you find the will to go on when the next second of your life could mean the devastation of everything that matters to you?

Spoilers: you don't. Or if you do, every minute of the day is a fight to stay alive. That is the point at which we meet Jeanne. Caught in the hellish whirlpool of wanting more, wanting better--but being terrified of the cost. The cost of hoping, only for his entire world to go up in flames again. It's not a small thing, in my view.

If you have any doubts as to whether or not that is the case, I direct you to literally every singular instance in which Jeanne's emotional sensibility goes visibly dark/south. When do these instances happen? When it rains, for one. And when Shakespeare deliberately starts pressing on his sensitivities: about the soldiers he was forced to kill, about the nation that spurned him, how he's truly "wicked" at heart and doesn't deserve to be happy--seconds before flames erupt for the festival. Does that really sound coincidental? I mean lmao. The rain is a painful reminder, but MC transforms that memory into something a little lighter with her bet. He has nothing to lose in her game, all she does is ask for time with him or offers him something if she loses. There's a playfulness there, a restoration of agency and ease that's invaluable to his recovery.

As for Shakespeare's deliberate retraumatization...I can't even begin to explain how damaging that event was. Shakespeare is undermining Jeanne's agency in that he--not unlike the corrupt monarch of Jeanne's era--is twisting Jeanne's beliefs to work against him. He knows full well that Jeanne doesn't feel like he deserves somebody so bright and understanding (we need to remember it's not really a luxury he's had much in life, especially after the war ended). He knows Jeanne has a tendency to impose that strict moral code on himself even more than he does on others. To reaffirm his every worst fear and lurking terror only throws Jeanne into a vicious downspiral. Jeanne doesn't reject MC out of disgust or hate. He rejects her because he literally cannot handle the concept of trying to be happy again, or of burdening her with his constant struggle to move on while he’s in the middle of a bad episode. He knows he won’t be able to stop reliving the past, that every second of his life and breath will be colored by his gruesome memories. He's trying as hard as he can to keep the intrusive thoughts quiet, to move on. But I'm not going to lie to any of you, that is incredibly difficult to do alone.

The next obvious question is, well why can't the other men help him? This isn't to say that they can't--we see how much solace Jeanne finds in Napoleon and Mozart. Even Isaac is gentle with the veteran. But there are limits to how much they can do. Napoleon is struggling with his own wartime trauma, and it's not identical to Jeanne's. Plus there’s a distinct difference in their sensibilities? Napoleon is the type to habitually seek comfort in helping others when he can't help himself, he's not as in tune with answering his own personal feelings and regulating them. (I mean just look at his new ES: he knows what he wants, but it takes a nudge from Isaac for him to go through with it.) He’s very communally reliant in ways Jeanne isn’t; Jeanne is a very private person, and typically prefers one on one from what I can tell.

Mozart is the definition of repression, and if you look at their interactions it's usually Jeanne that's smoothing over Mozart's rough edges. Mozart says as much himself: that he feels like a rotten friend because he knew Jeanne was struggling with a lot of intense trauma, but he didn't know how to unravel it without hurting him in the process. Mozart calls it personal cowardice, but honestly I just feel like they both had too much going on to be able to help each other effectively. (And Jeanne expresses this sentiment too? This idea that he's not angry with Mozart? He knows they're both carrying a lot, he's just touched Mozart cares about him in return.)

Okay, briefly unrelated, but like. Am I the only one that wheezes uncontrollably when Mozart is like "?????? Idk what it is about MC...I don't want her to be scared of me..." in his own main story in the baths. And Jeanne. IS TRYING SO HARD. NOT TO SPILL THE BEANS ABOUT HIM O B V I O U S L Y BEING IN LOVE. THE HILARITY I CAN'T DO THIS. Jeanne was like "yeah....yeah that's rough buddy.......[screams internally, give your boy time Jeanne he's fragile]"

Honestly? That's the thing about Jeanne too--he has incredible self-awareness and hyperarousal-related (I mean the PTSD kind, get your head out of the gutter) awareness to the people around him. He's very, very conscious of the fact that he is surrounded by geniuses when he can't even write his own name. Just because he has the fortitude not to lash out with his insecurities, doesn't mean he never feels stupid or inferior. And it doesn't help when there are people in the mansion who call him--a fucking war veteran from 500 YEARS AGO--nAiVe. He's not naive lmao. He just doesn't know how the world works so many years later, and it's a ridiculously steep learning curve? Leonardo and Comte are nearly 500 years old, but they lived throughout every hour of that time in a linear fashion. It is a big deal to be moved from 1430 to 1890 in the span of a second asynchronously, and then be expected to function without a hitch??? Given the circumstances he adapts well.

That atmosphere--this constant impatience with what he doesn’t understand, his inability to be caught up to speed quickly--is going to hinder his recovery lmao. He feels like a burden most of the time, and agency and freedom are crucial.

Another thing that occurs to me about the mansion's arrangement is that there is a power dynamic, just as any space with people in it has some level of hierarchy (unless you live with miraculously chill people). Jeanne is acutely aware that Comte is the most powerful being in that space, and he is not only hatefully angry at him--but likely afraid too. We have to remember that the biggest betrayal he witnessed in his life was at the hands of a monarch; it was the aristocracy that turned on him and erased the truth. Comte is openly a child that resulted from both that era and that type of lineage, I don't really blame Jeanne for being wary. He intimately knows how willing rich people are to throw normal folks under the bus to suit their ambitions/whims. Comte, while not deliberately threatening, also seems to be painfully aware of this impression he gives off. His "chad persona" as I've mentioned allows him to navigate his life in secret by necessity, but it’s actively damaging to his son. He can't reveal the truth because of Vlad's betrayal, and he's openly unsettled by what it could mean to be honest. Will they wonder about Vlad and find themselves ensnared under his mind control as Charles and Shakespeare are? Will Comte himself be subjected to the mortifying ordeal of being known only to lose them?? That's a risk he isn't willing to take--and that leaves him in a double bind.

What is it that they say, the truth will set you free? This is where MC and Comte come into enormous play when it comes to Jeanne's recovery. One thing to keep in mind is that most of the people in the mansion have their own traumas they're trying to carry, and I feel like a lot of them are unsure how to approach Jeanne. Or if they do, he's very guarded. It takes a lot of consistent effort to get through to him. What does MC do when Jeanne unleashes his harsh worldview on her? She's understandably frightened, but Jeanne isn't malicious (so she chases him around). In fact, he openly avoids and runs away from her--well aware that what he's done is wrong. If anything, he did it on purpose, bringing us right back to Shakespeare's verbal undoing; why does Jeanne attack her in the first place?

LMAO. He attacks her because she essentially says "oh thanks for helping me!" "I am not nice. Watch yourself." "But you seem like a nice guy to me?" "REEEEEE" Does the pattern become a little clearer? When people think kindly of him, his instinct is to shatter that illusion with an impulsive reprehensible act. When people think poorly of him or lash out, what does he do? When that orphan boy starts yelling and screaming, Jeanne is nothing but calm. He explains the situation, and offers the kid a choice, perfectly happy to be the bearer of bad news. This operates on many levels I’m sure, but I have a feeling it has something to do with him being hailed a saint and a war hero only to be tortured and branded a monstrosity (and he probably thinks being a vampire is doubly monstrous). He’s more comfortable being hated because he feels it’s what he deserves in a lot of ways.

Jeanne has a lot of internalized self-hatred because of what he's done, and because of how much harm was inflicted on him outside of his control (he's Catholic and he was tortured, come on this writes itself). If I'm honest, I think that's actually the greater part of why he hates Comte lmao. Comte refuses the very concept of being cruel no matter how much Jeanne lashes out. Sure he lectures him and scolds him, but he never actively limits what's important to him or controls or harms him. Comte fully realizes the tragedy of how Jeanne's life was used by a nation in dire straits, and knows he needs time and acceptance to heal. No matter how dismal or unhappy, Comte doesn't stop--he fully believes Jeanne should have time in his life where he can really live for himself for once. But therein lies the issue, Jeanne doesn't know how to live for himself.

Which brings me to how MC and Comte "heal" Jeanne. I feel like they give him the space he needs to recover, and that's what results in his gentled temperament and happiness. Remember that so much of his main story is MC endlessly chasing after Jeanne. No amounts of his hissing or running or threatening stops her. Even if his refusals are empty of real dislike, they're enough to deter most people. Not MC. She's able to see through to the depths of who he is, and doesn't just use him for her own ends? She actively seeks to teach him (to read and write) to help him settle better in this era, she actively tries to ease his distaste for rain with a well-meaning bet, and she never gives up on him. (Actions mean so much more to him than words in general too, tbh...). Love is more easily defined by work and effort than it is by attraction.

When he has his episode at the festival, sure she's rattled; but that's because she truly believed that he didn't want to be around her anymore. When she notices he really doesn’t want to be followed, she stops like any normal person would. It’s only when she reads his notebook and sees the truth for herself (that he’s given up despite having the same feelings for her) that her determination is rekindled. She doesn't approach him fearfully, doesn't treat him like he's made of glass either. She just wants him as he is--accepts and loves him as he is. Scarred, bloody, exhausted, abrasive, terrified. She doesn't define him by how easy he is to love. That is a huge issue with traumatized people lmao. Because of their maturity, people always just assume they don't need help, or they rely on them to an extent that isn't sustainable. The second they reveal need or that they struggle, people walk away or victim blame them because it’s easier than taking them seriously.

While MC's attempts may be a little more obvious (cherishing his lily field, wearing the hair pin he gave her, careful about his gruesome injury, really listens when he talks about the horrors of his life and accepts that he experienced a level of agony/terror she can never understand, tries to express her feelings no matter his evasion) I think it's also important to consider Comte's large scale effort. I don't say this to undermine MC, I say it because Jeanne's life was defined by a complete lack of security. He left his parents to make their lives easier, he lived in a war that meant life or death any second, and his country's leader branded him a traitor which lead to his endless torture and public execution. Jeanne does not know a life in which safety is the norm. Point blank. He does not understanding going outside and not expecting the worst anymore.

Comte not only understands that level of despair, but treats it with dignity and respect. He fully accepts being hated if it means Jeanne can use that hatred to live on and find a way to heal. And most importantly, when Jeanne begins to move forward with MC and Mozart's help, Comte never once holds it against Jeanne when the truth is revealed. He's not angry, this isn't about reprisal or reparations or revenge. It's just love.

Jeanne doesn't really have a concept of this? His entire life was mostly transactional, defined by strength and efficiency. Nobody gives a damn about your feelings. You either hurl yourself at the problem or die. Nobody is going to help you or carry you or save you. While he may have had a little more support while he was in the military from his fellow soldiers, that support system was ripped away from him during the Inquisition.

One very common sentiment regarding elongated imprisonment and torture is that survival occurs in pairs. It is an undeniable fact that people need others to survive. It is the nature of who we are. Individualism has never proven to be successful, or if it is, its dividends are astronomically minimal when compared to people working together.

What does it mean to be the most reliable, steady person in the room? Usually it just means you don't know how to ask for help when you are no longer capable of maintaining that stance. Napoleon is guilty of it. Leonardo, Comte, and Jeanne all are too. It's part of why MC and Comte's capacity to see what he needs and provide as much as they can is such a big deal. That sort of consistent support (without a constant necessity to beg for help) allows Jeanne to be able to re-integrate into his new reality and find joy. Even if his nightmares and memories never go away, they are now being actively overrun by positive experiences. That's the thing about recovery, really--it tends to be more about drowning out the negative as much as possible and coming to terms with it, than it is about forgetting or never feeling it again. It’s about softening the sharp edges of pain like sea glass.

So is MC magical and randomly got Jeanne to open up? Nah, I don't think so. I think it was a series of persistence and real acceptance of who he is that made him warm up. People really seem to underestimate how deeply affecting understanding is, but that's how damage is undone. Jeanne can't really linger on the idea of his own monstrousness, his unworthiness, a lifetime of misery, when the person in front of him actively listens and cares about him. Makes him laugh and smile and lose himself in warmth for the first time.

If I'm honest, I feel like people also just...underestimate the level of traumatic resurgence that's perpetuated and inflicted by society’s standards in general lmao. This rhetorical structure in which good and bad exist in moral extremes, this idea that people should be able to recover and never experience relapses or periods of sensitivity. The refusal to radically listen to people and their problems, and make active attempts--not matter how small--to mend/ease those hurt feelings. Granted there will always be people in the world who do not want to improve, but I feel like most people want to. It's hopelessness, silence, and stigmatization that remain the true enemies of traumatized/mentally ill people everywhere. And among that population are always war veterans...

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝑫𝒂𝒅! 𝑨𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒛: 𝑪𝒖𝒕𝒆 𝑴𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝑲𝒊𝒅𝒔

❥𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰

Hongjoong smiled proudly as he finished putting on the top coat on his daughter's tiny finger nails. Blowing on them softly, he admired his work of painting on a cute array of different glittery red and blue designs on each nail.

"Oh you already look so pretty my darling. Now let's finish up your hair."

Going behind her, he began to brush her hair, making sure not to pull too hard, not wanting accidentally hurt her.

"You know darling, daddy once had his hair those colors." He told her as he watched her admire her tiny painted nails.

The little girl, whipped her head around, an incredulous look on her face as she looked at her father's natural hair color.

"Don't worry. There was a time mommy didn't believe me when she saw my natural hair color."

His hands skillfully managed to make her hair into a ponytail and he fastly secured it with a a red scrunchie.

"Speaking of mommy, we're going to pick her up from work and then go out as a family to the park. What do you say?"

The girl immediately nodded, clapping her hands cautiously, not wanting to mess up her still drying nails. Picking her up, Hongjoong placed her on his arm and kissed her forehead.

"You're such a little cutie. You get that from your mommy...."

Holding up his finger to his lips, he continued:

"Don't tell her though. Remember she doesn't like being called cute."

He made her pinky promise not to say anything.

❥𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪

Seonghwa had just finished helping your son brush his teeth and tucked him into bed. Kissing him goodnight, he made his way back into your room.

"Seonghwa?" You called out for him.

"Tell me love." He answered as he got into bed with you, his arm instantly pulling you against him.

"Do you think he's ready? Sleeping on his own from now on?" You asked him, full of worry.

Chuckling, he kissed the top of your head.

"Baby he's already 4 years old. I think it's perfectly fine for him to sleep in a room of his own."

You nodded softly, still unsure about it.

"Darling, his room is right next to ours and you saw how crazy and excited he was with picking out his bed and decorations. I think even he was anxious to move out of mommy and daddy's room." He teased you.

You huffed softly. "I miss my tiny baby."

"Oh how will you hold up when he goes to college?"

Right at that moment, a tiny head peeked into the room.

"Mommy." Your son cried out, his tiny legs running over and crawling up the bed and onto your lap.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" You asked.

"I wanna sleep here." He answered as he began making his way in between you two, getting under the covers and smiling at you two.

Seonghwa looked at you, about to say no but failing the moment he saw you pouting your lips. He looked back down at your son who had a similar puppy look on his tiny face.

Seonghwa had to admit defeat at his two babies ganging up on him.

"I guess one more night won't hurt. "

❥𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸

Even though his hands were already full with the two baby carriages, Yunho somehow still managed to open the door for you.

"I made sure the house would be clean and spotless for when you all got here."

Your hands covered your mouth as you saw the big "Welcome home" banner that Yunho had put up the day before.

"Oh my god." You exclaimed.

"Oh. Wait til you see the nursery. And I want you two to see it as well."

Leading the way, Yunho and you walked down the hall and stopped in front of the room you had originally picked out to be the nursery. Although you had both started decorating it, you never got to fully finish it after you got further along in the pregnancy. And Yunho really wanted it to be a surprise for you and the twins you were carrying.

"Close your eyes." He told you.

You did as he asked and waited patiently for his next instructions. Putting the carriers down for a second, Yunho opened the door and quickly brought the babies inside.

"Now you can look."

You gasped as you took in the beautiful pink nursery. The two cribs had the girl's respective names carved into them so it'd be easier to tell them apart. The walls were decorated with flowers and butterflies, and the diaper station was already installed in the corner. It made you tear up how much work he put into it.

"Oh my God Yunho....thank you so much." You sobbed.

"No.....thank you for giving me not one, but two blessings." He pecked your lips.

Turning back to the babies, he picked them up in his hands.

"All right, now how about we figure out who goes in which bed cause I'm already confused."

❥𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰

Yeosang calmly stirred the baby food before looking at the baby in front of him.

"Ok sweetheart time to eat. So....open up."

Yeosang held up a spoonful of the food, but his 5 month old son simply looked away towards where Seonghwa was standing.

"Hey no no no. Don't look at Uncle Seonghwa, look at me, look at daddy. Look at daddy's hand! He has food!"

Yeosang swirled the spoon around, mimicking airplane noises as he held up the spoon right in front of the baby's face. Still his son made no initiative to eat it.

"Pleeeease eat the food! Your mom will be so mad if she finds out I couldn't feed you." Yeosang was now whining and sulking at this point.

Rolling his eyes, Seonghwa went over and snatched the spoon away from him.

"You're doing this all wrong Yeosang. Watch and learn."

Taking Yeosang's place, Seonghwa cooed at the baby, holding up the spoon again.

"Mam-ma?" Seonghwa did his infamous aegyo.

Yeosang was about to say something, but then he saw his son giggle and happily accept the food. Yeosang's arms dropped to his sides.

"Seriously? He listens to you but not me? I'm his father!" Yeosang complained.

"You'll learn in time Yeosang. I'm already on baby number three while you're on your first. Give yourself time. You'll soon learn how easy it is."

He gave the utensils back to Yeosang so he could finish. Sighing softly, Yeosang attempted it

"Mam-ma?" He was embarrased but elated when he finally got to feed his son himself.

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷

San had a huge smile plastered on his face. He was holding his 6 year old son's hand, the little toddler happily skipping about, sometimes landing big jumps that caused San to almost let go of him.

"Somebody is excited." You chuckled as you adjusted your 1.5 year old daughter on your arms.

"Of course he's excited. It's his first day of school. He's going to make a lot of friends and he's going to make us proud. Right buddy?"

The little boy nodded and almost ran off when he finally caught sight of the entrance to the school. San however was faster and caught him.

"Ok ok slow down bud. First things first."

Setting him down, he began opening his backpack.

"Do you have all your school books and utensils?"

San began to check that they didn't forget anything he would need. Satisfied that he had everything, San kissed his forehead.

"Say bye to mommy and your baby sister."

You put the girl down so she could give her older brother a kiss on the cheek, which he made a cringing face at but still accepted. Then he went over and kissed your cheek, saying a goodbye before sauntering off to class. You and San just looked at him, feeling somewhat nostalgic. Your thoughts were interrupted when your daughter let out a squeal and tried to run after her brother.

"Oh no way missy! You don't get to leave me for another 4 years......maybe 40." San giggled as he picked her up.

❥𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲

"27, 28, 29, 30! Ok! Ready or not here I come!"

Running down the hall, Mingi began his quest of finding out where his daughter was hiding at. He first checked under all the beds, knowing she would usually fit her tiny body underneath them.

"Ahh I see you're getting more clever now."

Chuckling, he went to the bathroom, sneaking in very quietly.

"Gotcha! Oh wait no." Mingi felt flustered when he didn't see two large eyes looking back at him when he pulled back the curtain.

"Seriously, where can that girl be?" He asked as he went back to the kitchen to search.

Puzzlement soon turned to panic as Mingi couldn't find her anywhere. He began running frantically all over the place, searching every corner and shelf, but still there was no trace of his little girl.

"Haha...ok princess you win..... so please come out now....." He called out, unable to mask the worry in his voice.

But the girl didn't respond and now he was freaking out.

"Oh my God! I lost my own daughter! What will I tell Y/N?! She's gonna kill me! I'm a horrible father! Sweetheart where are you?!"

He was on the verge of crying when he saw some shuffling coming from one of the curtains. Mingi walked over there and pulled the curtain back, relieved and shocked to find his daughter laying on the huge window sill, hugging her bunny plush, sleeping soundly. Mingi let out a sigh of relief.

"God what a scare you gave me." He said as he picked her up and carried her back to her room.

Gently, he layed down on his bed, his arms holding her against him. He smiled at her tiny sleeping figure.

"Oh look. You pout in your sleep just like your mom. Never noticed that."

Kissing her nose, he decided to take a nap alongside her as well, exhausted from the terrifying moment he just went through.

❥𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰

Wooyoung definitely wasn't having the best time of his life as he peeled the diaper open.

"Ew ew ew ew." Wooyoung looked away, not wanting to see the mess caused by his 3 month old son.

You however stood behind him, watching him and trying to direct him, although right now you were merely rolling your eyes at how dramatic he was being.

Wooyoung took a quick glance and groaned.

"Why are babies so gross?"

You smacked him on the head for that.

"You wanted a baby? Well now you have to learn to take care of him. I go back to work in one month and I sure as hell aren't leaving my kid in your care if you're not ready." You told him.

"Ok fine! Geez. Just don't pressure me. I'm new at this."

Wooyoung struggled to get the diaper off and rolled up to throw away, but once he did, it seemed he got passed the hard part. You then proceeded to show him how to wipe the baby's bottom and the importance of using the cream the doctor prescribed to prevent diaper rash or any infection. Wooyoung seemed to be doing fine, all he had left to do now was put on a clean diaper.

"AAAAHHHH!"

Wooyoung screeched loudly when your son decided it would be a fun idea to pee at that moment, landing right on Wooyoung's chest. You bursted out laughing, literally doubling over and slapping your knee.

"Oh my God! That was so funny!" You exclaimed.

"What the heck?! Why would you do that?! Attack your own father like that?!"

Grabbing the diaper, he handed it to you.

"Take care of your son."

"He's your son too Woo." You reminded him.

"He's only my son when he's a little angel and is well behaved. Right now, he's strictly yours."

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸

"All right. Now here's what you're going to do. You're just going to kick that ball into that net as hard as you can."

Getting into position, Jongho waited for his son to kick the ball. The boy ran as fast as he could and kicked the ball, but not hard enough so it was easy for Jongho to catch it.

"Good job buddy! Just a little bit more."

Tossing the ball back, he once again got into a goalie position, watching in amusement as his son tried once again to kick it into the net but failed as it didn't even reach anywhere near it, the boy getting a little sad.

"It's ok. Don't worry about it. You'll get the hang of it soon." Jongho assured him.

"Daddy I want to try!" His sister, who up to now had been helping you prepare food, now stood up and ran over, not wanting to be left out.

"Ok baby girl, give it a try." He tossed the ball to her, which she surprisingly caught rather easily.

"What can you sissy little girl do?" Your son taunted her.

"Put a stick on it." She stuck her tongue out at him, which you quickly chastised her for.

The little girl surprised everyone when she kicked the ball so hard and fast that even Jongho couldn't block it, it just flew past him. Jongho was so surprised and soon he was happy.

"That's my little girl! Daddy's girl!" He shouted as he ran over to her and began parading her around the soccer field, already planning on having her take soccer lessons.

Your son on the other hand, stomped all the way back to where you were, huffing slightly. You hugged him.

"Don't worry. You know you'll always be mommy's boy."

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners

[yourlmanburg]

yet another smp sibling // eret + gn!sibling!reader

(hello i genuinely do not know what got blown up in doomsday please let that slide lmao, also i am honestly really sorry about how late this is - i was super tired yesterday and i’ve been busy all day today lulw but even so, i hope you enjoy this even if i didn’t have the energy to edit it whoops)

word count: 1,343

summary: eret reveals they have a younger sibling and shows them around the dream smp

request?: yep! thank you @brianawithonen!!

---

Your brother had been streaming for about half an hour or so now while you were busy doing homework, but if you’d been watching, your heart would’ve melted. Alastair had somehow let it slip that he had a little sibling and his chat was going crazy as they spoke nothing but good about you, singing your praises and making it clear how much you meant to them.

“I can actually go and get Y/n if you guys would like?” She asked her chat, and needless to say, they were delighted with the idea of meeting another SMP sibling. You were sitting at your desk when you heard a knock at your bedroom door, spinning around to look at your brother.

“Aren’t you streaming?” You asked before he could get a word in. He wasn’t supposed to end yet as far as you were aware.

“Yep! Do you want to play on the SMP for a little bit?” They asked kindly, their tone preventing you from feeling too pressured. You couldn’t lie, the thought of showing yourself to tens of thousands of people both scared you and excited you - what if somebody you knew was watching the stream and they didn’t know you were The Eret’s sibling? What if nobody liked you? What if you said something wrong and got cancelled, or even worse, what if you got Alastair cancelled? Despite the negative thoughts crowding your mind, you realised how much joy the Dream SMP had brought to Alastair. You knew how much it’d boosted their career and you know how many lives he’d changed, and you knew about the friends he’d made. Maybe this was a chance for you to have the same as that for a segment of a stream.

“Sure!” You exclaimed with a grin, leaving your work where it was and following your brother into their recording room.

“Here we go, chat!” Alastair said with a smile, passing you a spare headset and pulling out another chair for you. “This is Y/n, my mini me, who is surprisingly good at Minecraft.” They chuckled as you looked at her with fake betrayal.

"Surprisingly, huh?" You chuckled, slipping on the headset and sitting beside your sibling. 

“Oh, by the way, I’m on the VC in case anybody wants to join - is that okay with you?” She asked and you nodded, already taking over his game and walking around on the Dream SMP. This was so surreal.

“So what do I do?”

“Well, I can show you around if you’d like?” Alastair looked at you with a small grin, to which you nodded eagerly. You began in (the remains of) L’Manburg and you were shown around the Greater Dream SMP, the Badlands, Manifoldland and even El Rapids, and you couldn’t lie; you were impressed by some of the structures your brother had built. Everything was going better than you’d expected and you really did enjoy spending time with Alastair like this, until you heard the familiar Discord chime and a very distinct voice that you just could not ignore.

“HELLO ERET!” The legendary TommyInnit screamed down your ears, unaware of your presence. Alastair chuckled, letting him know that he was with his younger sibling.

“Why do you have a child with you? Do they know that I am a big man, bigger than them?” oh, somebody sounded confident as ever.

“Wanna bet?” you spoke up, Tommy for once finding himself at a loss for words.

“You suck.” he stated bluntly, causing you to burst into fits of laughter. Alastair was a little more on the unimpressed side, however, asking Tommy to calm down with the somewhat aggressive remarks. Of course, he was only answered with incoherent angry mumbles, followed by another Discord chime.

“TUBBO!” both Alastair and Tommy shouted at the same time, Tubbo greeting them with an equal level of enthusiasm. A little yellow banner across the screen told you that he’d just logged into the game, his avatar appearing not too far away from your brother’s.

“Hey Tubbo, did you know Eret is with a child?” Tommy asked him like it was the biggest deal on Earth. Tubbo let out a confused laugh, asking Alastair if this was true or if Tommy was just spouting bullshit as usual.

“Hi,” you giggled before Alastair had a chance to reply. “I believe I am said child.”

“Oh, hello!” he greeted you happily, running over towards you in Minecraft and crouching in front of your character. 

“Tubbo, right? I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Who’s Tubbo? I am Big Law and Big Law only.” you laughed at how serious his tone was, feeling as if you were really, finally seeing why the SMP meant so much to your brother. You barely knew them yet these people were some of the nicest you’d ever met (despite the fact that you’d already known of their existence and tuned into more than enough streams prior to this) and you truly felt as if you belonged - if only you could become a permanent member in the intricate storyline.

You, Tubbo and Tommy played around for a while longer with your brother by your side, every so often speaking up but he was mostly just watching you. Watching the smile on your face and the shine in your eyes; this was clearly where you wanted to be, if he could just…

Alastair pulled out his phone, opening up discord and clicking on his conversation with Dream. Meanwhile, you were very invested in the business you were starting up with the two boys, trying to persuade people like Nihachu and Ranboo to buy from you.

Dream joined the game.

You paused for a second, looking up at Alastair with a grin. You’d always wanted to meet Dream and she’d always said that he was a busy man and you just had to wait for a chance, could this be it? Could you finally be able to speak to the Dreamwastaken?

Even so, you carried on as you were. You tried not to show your excitement in fear of being seen as an overly obsessed fan, when you saw a familiar green skin hopping over to where you, Ranboo and your two new friends stood. Turning to face him, Tommy and a very confused Ranboo began shouting at you to make a deal with him for your business when somebody joined the call.

“Hello?” the new voice greeted, and it was undeniably Dream. 

“Hello!” you replied enthusiastically, as did the others. 

“Y/n?” Oh my god, he knew your name.

“Yeah?”

“What’s your Minecraft username?”

“Y/u/n, why?” Dream left the game and there was a pause. Nobody else in the call was speaking, what was happening? Had you just fucked things up? You looked up to Alastair for reassurance, and he nodded at you with a warm smile, but you still didn’t understand.

“Okay!” Dream spoke up again, dragging out the “o” and rejoining the server. “Eret should be sending you the IP address now, go and try logging in on your account, you should be whitelisted.

And you were. You’d finally been whitelisted on the Dream SMP.

All because of your brother.

That night, you sat on the sofa beside Alastair, tired from many hours you’d spent on the server, but happy. The happiest you’d been in a while. As much as you were afraid to admit it, ever since they joined you’d longed to have what they had with everyone, you longed to be part of the plot. You finally had that chance.

“So?” She asked you with a smile. “How was today?”

“Fucking incredible!” you replied, making them laugh. You leaned into Alastair’s side, looking up at him with a tired expression. “Thank you, Alastair, seriously. You’ve just made one of my dreams come true - pun intended.”

“I’m glad! I’m so happy to have you there now, I really think you have the potential to become a really crucial character.”

“Really?”

“Really. Now go and do that maths homework you left.”

“I hate you.”

[wangxiangiftexchange]

Winter Solstice gift for highwarlockkareena

For @highwarlockkareena​. Not quite an arranged marriage fic, but a post-CQL-canon-surprise-second-wedding fic, which I hope hits some pleasant notes. It’s fluff through and through, with just a little angst left over from the tough times. But there's a bright and happy future ahead, and a lot of parentheticals because neither Wei Wuxian nor I can think in a straight line. I had a great time getting sappy and sniffly at my computer giving these nerds the sumptuous wedding I wanted them to have. The art is also by me. I hope you like it! (No beta, all errors are entirely my fault).

Read/View on AO3

*****

This Time With Lanterns

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji reach Koi Tower at the first touch of sunset. The architecture glows with it, the pale wood and stone reflecting gold and rose from their bold symmetry. As many mixed feelings and unpleasant memories as Wei Wuxian has about this place, it is undoubtedly beautiful.

It is also, for some reason, hung with a multitude of boisterous red lanterns, bumping each other gently in the cool evening breeze, and long silken banners, likewise crimson, fluttering and flowing from the walls.

“What’s going on tonight, Lan Zhan? Looks like a wedding.”

“Yes.”

“Did you tell me about this and I forgot? Seems like I’d remember if you’d mentioned there was a wedding.”

“Mn,” says Lan Wangji, his eyes fixed on the splendid display before them, looking slightly, what was it… wistful, perhaps? Wei Wuxian cocks his head. It’s odd for him not to be able to read Lan Zhan’s moods with an easy glance these days. Once you know what to look for, he really is an open book. Right now, though, he’s… inscrutable. Shut off, a little.

“What is it, Lan Zhan?” No reply. “Wait. Did you not know?” There is a tiny flicker in those piercing eyes. Maybe he’s onto something. “The Jin sect is holding a wedding at Carp Tower, and they didn’t invite the Chief Cultivator?” Wei Wuxian takes hold of one wide pale sleeve and starts moving towards the great expanse of stairs at the base of the tower, pivoting to walk backwards so he can fix his eyes on his husband, his tone flitting between mockery and seriousness, looking for signs of where to land.

“This is a terrible insult, Hanguang Jun. What should we do? Storm up the stairs and confront them? Sneak in the back and spy on them? I could go grab Jin Ling by his collar and threaten to break his legs if he doesn’t offer an explanation and an apology, he seems to respond to that.”

Lan Wangji pulls them to a halt just before the first step, but he maintains his silent composure, so Wei Wuxian continues, casting about for reactions: “I’m not in my good Yiling Laozu robes, but I could still blow the doors open and make up a few good fake curses to bestow on the unlucky couple for their hubris and ingratitude if you want to be dramatic about it. Lan Zhan. What are you thinking? Give me a clue here.”

Lan Wangji takes the hand tugging at his sleeve in his own, his fingers slightly colder than usual. His eyes are fixed on Wei Wuxian’s, meaning swimming in their depths, just a little too far below the surface to be read. His lips part slightly, but he doesn’t speak. Wei Wuxian squeezes the hand back as his heart begins to thump just a little louder. “Lan Zhan? Is everything all right?”

Lan Wangji takes a slow breath. “Wei Ying.” There is the hint of a hint of a suggestion of a tremor in his deep voice. Shit, thinks Wei Wuxian.

“We will go look,” Lan Wangji says. “If… Wei Ying, once we reach the top, if you wish to leave we will leave.”

“Ohhh… kay?” says Wei Wuxian. Something is really off. Lan Zhan is acting decidedly weird. The Chief Cultivator turns and starts up the stairs, still holding Wei Wuxian’s hand. Koi Tower has, obviously, a lot of stairs, and Lan Wangji climbs them with a steady unrushed elegance, which gives Wei Wuxian a nice span of time to throw a few more hypotheses against the wall. The wall, in this case, being the statuesque expressionless man who is the love of both of his lives.

“Something is definitely up here, right? I mean, who would be getting married that they would deck out Koi Tower like this for, but not let us know about it?” Lan Wangji keeps climbing. “It can’t be Jin Ling. He’d certainly at least write to let us know if he was getting hitched. I know he stabbed me that one time, but we’ve been getting on pretty well since then, all things considered.” He chuckles, a lopsided smile on his face. “Funny how in retrospect somebody stabbing you isn’t that big of a deal. Weird that happened right here, huh? Well, just back down there, technically.” It’s barely perceptible, probably not even conscious, but Lan Wangji squeezes his hand, just a little.

“Besides, if Jin Ling had been courting somebody, we’d never hear the end of it from the juniors, am I right? Remember when Jingyi kept making eyes at that cute kid at the inn on that night hunt in Qinghe, when was that? Last spring? I thought they’d never let him live it down. I’ve never seen someone turn so red so fast!” He expects a classic Lan Zhan tiny-smile at the memory, but nothing. Carved out of jade, just like people say. Extremely weird. A new thought hits him, and it’s troubling. His tone darkens.

“Lan Zhan. I think I was wrong before. I think you did know there was a wedding tonight.” Lan Wangji’s face stays pointed impassively forwards. “I think you knew there was a wedding, and you deliberately chose not to tell me.” Lan Zhan blinks, probably in spite of his best efforts. “Ah-hah! So you did know! You knew, and you didn’t want to tell me about it, but you still brought me here. You told me there was a meeting about taxes or some boring shit and invited me along ‘because I enjoy your company, Wei Ying’, but actually you brought me to Lanling for the specific purpose of crashing a wedding. Wait.” His stomach flips. “Lan Zhan, wait.” The corners of Lan Wangji’s mouth have tightened but he keeps climbing, now towing Wei Wuxian along with him.

“Ah, Lan Zhan. Hanguang Jun. Wait a second, seriously. Lan Zhan. Beloved, stop.” Lan Wangji freezes in his tracks and turns, slowly. There is a tiny crease between his brows. He looks concerned, and… yes. Guilty. He looks guilty. Wei Wuxian feels a tiny tremor in the hand holding his. Fuck.

“Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian swallows. He’s figured it out; it makes sense. “It’s just me that’s not invited, isn’t it? It’s an important wedding and they want it to be perfect and beautiful, so they asked you to come, but not to bring me.” Of course. Makes perfect sense. Makes sense too that Lan Wangji would be more offended by that than by being slighted himself. Would force the confrontation. Not that long ago he would have loved the idea of barging in, making them all face up to the unpleasant truth that he exists. Today… he'd really rather not, honestly.

He takes another glance at the expensive decorations shining in the twilight, dancing in the wind. They’re very beautiful. "I should go then,” he says quietly, sliding his hand out of Lan Wangji’s. “They don’t want me here.”

As he turns to slink away back down the stairs Lan Wangji catches his shoulders. “Wei Ying. That is not it. But…”

“But?”

“It may still be uncomfortable. Jiang Wanyin is here, and my uncle. I should have warned you of that before now. I apologize.”

Wei Wuxian stares at his husband for a few seconds. It’s difficult to admit, even to himself, but he’s at a total fucking loss, and despite the relief he feels at his scenario not being true, he’s getting a bit pissed off. “Lan Zhan. I am sure now that you know what is happening here, and I am just as sure that I do not. Since I’m not doing very well at guessing, I am now asking you very nicely to tell your poor stupid soulmate what the hell is going on before he tries to shake it out of you.”

“Wei Ying. You are not stupid. But I will not tell you, even if you shake me. Please trust me, and come with me up the stairs.”

What is there to say? The earnestness in Lan Zhan’s quiet voice and the gentleness in his steady eyes disarms him, as it always does. Of course Wei Wuxian trusts him. To the ends of the earth. And he has to admit, he loves a mystery. He huffs, then nods, and they climb the last stretch of stairs together, silent.

They finally reach the courtyard, and it appears to be empty. They see no one, hear nothing but the snap of the banners and the hollow paper bumpings of the lanterns. But Wei Wuxian knows when he’s being watched, and without a doubt they are being watched by many eyes. He takes a slow breath, feels the air. Then:

“They’re here!” It’s Jingyi’s voice, and it’s followed immediately by a chaotic rabble of young voices shouting “Hanguang Jun!” and “Wei-qianbei!” and the courtyard fills with Lan and Jin disciples, even a few Jiang teens in the mix too, tripping over each other and mobbing the newcomers with a scandalous lack of dignity or composure.

A-Yuan (he should probably call him Sizhui, he thinks, but fat chance of that happening) offers a perfect bow to the two of them, but he’s grinning ear to ear. As he straightens he addresses Wei Wuxian. “Wei-qianbei! You’re right on time. Welcome…”

“...TO YOUR WEDDING!” he and Lan Jingyi finish together as Jingyi throws his arm around his friend’s shoulders. Both boys dissolve into peals of laughter at Wei Wuxian’s expression. He suspects he looks rather like a stranded carp. Well, he came to the right tower, he supposes. He turns his incredulous gaze to Lan Wangji.

The Chief Cultivator regards him with attentive seriousness, and a sparkle hiding in his eyes. “Surprise,” he states, and the crowd of kids burst into cheers and applause.

“Lan Zhan?” He leans a little closer. “What the-- Have you lost your mind? We’re already married. We’ve been married for a while now.” Almost a year now, if they counted from his return to Gusu and the completion of their three bows at the Lan family shrine. But truthfully they had really gotten married so gradually, so many steps over so many years--forehead ribbons and chickens and bows one place or another and, of course, the sex, which had been a very memorable milestone-- it’s hard to pin down a specific anniversary. It feels like it’s been a decade, but also no time at all.

Lan Jingyi interjects: “But you didn’t do it right! You just did it all by yourselves like it was no big deal! There was no party! Nobody even saw it; it barely even counts! You’re supposed to have a feast and guests and... ” he gestures wildly around “...and lanterns! You didn’t even have lanterns!”

Jin Ling joins his friends now, looking splendidly haughty in elaborate gold robes befitting the young sect leader of the Lanling Jin. “Can’t trust you to do anything right,” he complains. Wei Wuxian offers him a bow, to which he offers an exaggerated scoff in return. “It’s embarrassing, frankly. So I’ll guess I have to be the one to make sure you do it right, just like I have to do everything around here. Go get dressed so we can get this over with.”

Jin Ling stomps away with a gesture over his shoulder. Following it, Wei Wuxian sees Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen standing several paces behind the gaggle of juniors. Each of them is holding what looks like about a mile of red silk, sparkling with gold embroidery and beads. Lan Xichen leans over and says a quiet word in the ear of the man in purple, who gives him a curt nod. Zewu Jun is looking better; his cheeks are less hollow, his skin less pallid than when he emerged from his seclusion a few months ago. Jiang Cheng looks like he’s about to punch somebody, so at least that’s consistent. As they head over, Lan Wangji gives Wei Wuxians arm a gentle squeeze.

“Jiang Wanyin has promised to behave,” he murmurs. Wei Wuxian responds with a quiet chuckle. “He wanted to be here,” Lan Wangji concludes in a whisper as they bow to the sect leaders. As they rise, Wei Wuxian feels a tightness in his throat.

“Jiang Cheng,” he says, his voice coming out raspier than he wanted. “This is…” he barks an awkward laugh. He takes in his (former?) brother, the Twin Jades, the juniors who are watching his reactions to all this like hawks. “Um… Are you all sure about this? It seems like a lot of... expense.”

Lan Xichen’s smile and Jiang Cheng’s eye roll are impressively synchronized.

“Sect leader Jin insisted,” says Xichen. "He and his friends have been very active in the planning."

“It’s already paid for, so no point whining about it,” snaps Jiang Cheng. “Besides, it looks bad for all of us if people think you two are just running around the country like a couple of sluts.”

Wei Wuxian can’t help but cackle at that, in spite of (or maybe partially because of) Lan Wangji’s abrupt tension beside him. “Ah, Jiang Cheng!” he gasps. “You always know just what to say.”

“Shut up and come get dressed. I’m bored of holding this crap.”

“Wei Ying.” The soft voice cuts through all other noise. He turns to his once and future husband. “Only if you want to,” says Lan Wangji.

“Lan Zhan,” he laughs. “You know how much I love attention! And free food! And you planned it as a surprise? And kept this many people quiet about it? Refusing would be the rudest thing I’ve ever done, and there’s quite a list.”

“But do you want to? Truly?” asks Lan Zhan, taking his hand, and there’s that earnestness again, reaching so easily past all his walls and wrapping right around his heart.

He takes a breath, checks in with himself. It’s a lot. It doesn’t feel real. So much of his life so often doesn’t feel quite real, still. But... the chance to marry his Lan Zhan properly, sumptuously, with spectacle and ceremony before the eyes of people he loves and who seem, against all odds and reason, to love him back (or, in a lot of cases, who love Lan Zhan enough to tolerate him, but that's fine too)… he’s hardly dared to let himself dream of it, but he wants it. Yeah. He wants this. So, so much.

“I do, Lan Zhan. Truly,” he says, and stands on tip-toe to kiss his husband, his eyes a little wetter than they were a moment ago. He hears Jiang Cheng pretend to gag. Wei Wuxian smiles against Lan Wangji’s soft sweet lips, and then hand-in-hand they follow their brothers to put on their wedding clothes.

…………………..

Getting dressed takes longer than he’d anticipated. There are lots of layers, soft shiny under-robes, what seems like a hundred more robes in the middle, then rich thick silk outer robes embroidered in gold thread with stylized rivers, lotus flowers and intricate repeating geometry. He’s pretty sure he knows the Yunmeng shop they came from; they smell like home, and he doesn’t mention it because… well. He doesn’t want to trap Jiang Cheng into any deep discussions. He’s careful to be inconspicuous about smelling them and running his fingers over the lotuses on his sleeves.

The hair takes a while too. Wei Wuxian is able to comb it into some semblance of order, and then there’s a thin fragrant oil that tames the frizz down and gives it a silken shine. Once that’s done and his red ribbon back in place, Jiang Cheng pins a golden ornament in front of his topknot. It’s made in the same style as Lan Zhan’s spectacular moon ornament, although smaller, and it looks a little like the sun. He doesn’t ask where it came from, and Jiang Cheng doesn’t comment on it either.

Then Jiang Cheng adds dozens of exquisitely thin golden chains dotted with crimson and gold beads that cascade in shimmering rivulets through Wei Wuxian’s hair. He grumbles the whole time, and Wei Wuxian teases him about it. He wonders if listening to them someone might mistake them for the same bothersome, promising kids from Yunmeng that bickered so easily all those years ago. They’re not, of course. He can feel the faint sizzle of Jiang Cheng’s pent up resentment roiling away inside him, and it’s weird that that’s a thing he can do now. There’s so much they still can’t talk about, can’t get over, and today is not the day to try and air it all out.

But Jiang Cheng is here, and he’s doing what a brother would do for his brother on an important day, and that means so damn much. So they both pretend that they’re okay, and if their banter is a little forced and their verbal jabs at each other a little careful, at least they’re both here. Someday, Wei Wuxian promises himself for the thousandth time, he will figure out a way to apologize for everything. For Shi Jie.

Jiang Cheng places the last golden strand with an unnecessarily painful tug and steps back. His thoughts must be running parallel to Wei Wuxian’s. “You look... “ he swallows. “You don’t look too bad. I wish…” he doesn’t finish it, but Wei Wuxian knows. I wish she could have seen you.

He can’t meet Jiang Cheng’s eyes, but he nods. “Me too. Thanks, Jiang Cheng.”

He’s rewarded with a hard punch to the shoulder. “Let’s go. Can’t keep your precious Hanguang Jun waiting.”

……………

Wei Wuxian has problems with his memory. It’s pretty common knowledge. But it’s not that he just doesn’t remember things; his memory is a lot like his attention span. Events, conversations, whole months sometimes will pass in a blur, leaving just a vague impression on his mind, but some things stick with intense clarity, seared onto his memory. Sometimes they’re inconsequential and he doesn’t know why his brain chooses to keep them instead of any of thousands of more important things: he can’t recall his parents’ faces but he could still draw the design on Nie Huaisang’s favorite fan; he’s forgotten every single recipe he’s ever learned but he remembers word-for-word a heated argument between a master cook and his apprentice that he overheard at about 13 years old passing the Lotus Pier kitchens about the proper way to steam pork buns; he keeps forgetting Lan Xichen’s birthday but he remembers watching Lan Zhan’s hand in the firelight as he slept in the Xuanwu cave, noticing its callouses from guqin and sword practice, a thin scar on the back of one knuckle, the way the long fingers twitched minutely as he dreamed.

He’s beginning to recognize them when they happen, the moments that will stay caught in his porous memory like gold flecks panned from the river mud. He’s getting gradually better at consciously reinforcing them as they happen, making sure the important things stick. He wishes he could keep this whole night, watch it over and over from beginning to end like an emperor making his own private theater troupe perform his favorite play over and over. But of course, he can’t. The evening whirls around him, blurring into a fog of light and sound, slipping away from him even as he tries to catch it.

But he knows some of the moments that will remain with him, unchanging jewels held shining in his mind and heart until the end of this miraculous second-chance life (however far away that might be). He keeps an internal list of them as they happen. There are six that are his favorites.

1- Lan Zhan stands in his wedding robes. Wei Wuxian had expected to be done first and have to make small talk and wait for his husband, but when he rounds the corner into the main hall there he is in profile, and Wei Wuxian forgets how to breathe. They took enough time getting dressed that the sun has set and he’s illuminated by soft warm lantern light, standing out crimson and gold against the velvet dark. He’s brilliant, gorgeous, perfect, dazzling. No word is enough. Lan Zhan’s robes are embroidered with clouds and mountains. His hair, too, is set with delicate golden chains and beads. He still wears his usual pale blue forehead ribbon and his preferred silver hair ornament, the match and opposite to the one in Wei Wuxian’s hair. Somehow the blue and silver do not clash with the red and gold wedding attire. Trust him to be able to pull something like that off, the effortless beautiful bastard. He wears small smooth red stone earrings, teardrop-shaped, which swing gently as he turns from where he has been talking to his brother. He is glowing. He looks like a dream.

When Lan Wangji sees his husband, his breath catches too.

They both stand frozen for a few trembling seconds, then move to meet in the middle, Lan Wangji gliding like a dancer, Wei Wuxian tripping just slightly on the front of his robe in his haste. He can hear the whisper of silk and the tiny scrape of beads on the floor. The only other sound he notices is the roaring in his ears. Lan Zhan’s hands are warm and strong. Wei Wuxian brings those precious hands up to his lips and presses a kiss onto the knuckle with the scar he’d first noticed in a cold smelly cave two decades ago. When he looks up Lan Zhan’s eyes are shining, infinitely tender.

2- Most of the actual ceremony blurs by. He’s never cared that much about tradition or Doing Things Correctly, clearly. But tradition matters to Lan Zhan, and watching his face as they go through all the slow and formal steps that make them truly 100% married in the eyes of humans, gods, spirits, and whatever else have you… that’s important. His serious, studious face. He’s always glancing over at Wei Wuxian when it’s not inappropriate, checking in on him, locking eyes with him with subtle expressions ranging from besotted fondness to slightly possessive pride to gentle admonishment (fair, he’d started fidgeting, rolling a couple of sleeve-edge beads together to make tiny creaking noises; hadn’t even realized he was doing it). Each of those precious expressions sticks. He might draw them later.

3-The best part of the ceremony steps right on the heels of the most awkward part. They must, as is customary, pour tea for their relatives, oldest to youngest. There are so many Lans in attendance. Even Lan Qiren is here, although he’s been keeping the buffer of Lan Xichen between himself and the happy couple pretty efficiently, and his scowl could curdle milk. Wei Wuxian has no blood relatives unless you count Mo Xuanyu’s, which he doesn’t. His Jiang family is there, very politely ignoring the fact that he’s officially disowned, which is very touching, it really is. But it’s still just Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling, and aren’t they just a pair?

He pours for them. They drink. Then there’s nothing to do but stand there next to the two of his family members who were too prickly for Death to want to get near enough to take them (Madam Yu probably gave him such a tongue-lashing he wasn’t eager for another any time soon; sorry, sorry, forget he even thought such a thing). He watches the graceful lines of Lan Wangji’s back (and the enticing curves of Lan Wangji’s ass) as with perfect form he pours unending tea for what seems like a thousand respectable elder Lans. He has to switch to a new pot at one point.

“How are there so many of them?” Jin Ling whispers, clearly mired in the awkwardness too. “I thought the Lans would be too stuffy to…”

“You’d be surprised,” he quips before he can stop himself, and claps a hand over his mouth to halt the rest of the sentence just as Jiang Cheng hisses, “Wei Wuxian!”

Before it can escalate farther a deep voice calls “Wei Ying,” across the room. The three of them snap to attention, for all the world like schoolkids caught misbehaving in class. Wei Wuxian throws on his most winning innocent smile.

“Will you come here?” Lan Wangji asks, and Wei Wuxian bounces over to him, throwing a cheeky nod to the elder Lans, who look varying degrees of scandalized by his mere presence. Good thing they didn’t know what he was about to say to his nephew about the surprising effects of growing up righteous and repressed on their star pupil’s libido, especially regarding his impressive collection of exciting kinks. The star pupil in question, meanwhile, has stopped his lengthy ceremonial progression in front of Lan Sizhui, teapot in hand. Sizhui is composed and polite, but puzzled at the interruption.

Without a word, Lan Wangji takes Wei Wuxian’s hand and places it atop his own on the handle of the teapot.

Together they pour the tea for their son.

Sizhui very elegantly bursts into tears as he realizes the significance of Hanguang Jun’s gesture. They stream down his face as he smiles up at them. Then he drinks, his sleeve covering his cup and his sniffles.

“Thank you, father; thank you, Baba,” he says to them in turn, his voice thick as he puts the fine small teacup back on the table. Lan Jingyi clutches Sizhui’s sleeve, his other hand covering his mouth. He has also started crying, although he’s trying to swallow it back with little gulps and hiccups.

Wei Wuxian can’t speak. He nods to his A-Yuan, smiles at his Lan Zhan, and dammit, now Wei Wuxian is crying too. Lan Zhan wipes a tear from his husband’s cheek with his thumb. His own tears are far too disciplined to act out at such an important time, so they stay politely gathered between the sweep of his eyelids.

4- After the ceremony is finished there’s a short span of mingling time while the dishes for the feast are laid out. Wen Ning, Nie Huaisang, and, to Wei Wuxian’s surprise, Mian Mian (sorry, Luo Qingyang) mob them, giving Lan Wangji handsome bows and Wei Wuxian affectionate hugs, gushing about their wedding clothes, the decor, the ceremony, the impressive secrecy leading up to the big night. Wei Wuxian reflects that they’re three of the most loving and endearing people he knows, as well as three of the most dangerous. But then, he doesn’t really know anyone now who isn’t dangerous. They all did what they had to do, back then. It makes him happy to think these three might become friends, now, when there’s not so much need to be dangerous-- they’d get along well.

“Wei Gongzi, Hanguang Jun,” says Wen Ning, pulling him back out of his head, “I have wedding gifts for you.” he pulls a small flat box of dark lacquered wood from his robe. “I know you didn’t request any, so I hope you don’t mind.”

He holds the box out to Wei Wuxian so he can open the lid. There are two beaded bracelets inside. The beads are carved and polished lotus seeds. They look a good deal like the charm Wei Wuxian had never been able to give to Jin Ling. He holds his fingers over them and feels the hum of energy, somehow both resentful and benevolent. He throws a questioning look to Wen Ning.

“I made them, after I saw the one you made for Jin Rulan. A-Yuan helped me figure out the technique on our travels together. They will camouflage you from wicked spirits and monsters. Don’t wear them now, but I think they may be helpful while you are on your night hunts.”

“I see,” he says, touching them gently, feeling the energy contained within and its will to envelop him rather than invade him. He’s reminded of a mother hen, if it was made of black smoke and the desire for vengeance. So, a mother goose, maybe. “These are amazing," he breathes. "I’m very impressed.” He looks to Lan Wangji, and he nods in appreciation.

Wei Wuxian closes the box carefully and bows to his friend. “Thank you,” he says. “They will be of great use.”

Wen Ning smiles. “Thank you, Gongzi. If you approve of the method, I may begin making more of them. I think they would be useful for farmers and travellers who are worried about encountering monsters. When you’re ready to return to research I’ll show you how we made them, if that’s all right.”

“Of course! I would love that! It, ah…” he glances over at Lan Wangji, the word honeymoon beginning to swirl through his thoughts. “It may be a few weeks before I’ll want to return to research.” Nie Huaisang smirks behind his fan and Luo Qingyang smacks him on the arm.

“That’s all right,” says Wen Ning, giving the box one final fond pat. “I’m very glad you like them. Congratulations again on your wedding. I know you will be very happy.” With that and one more round of bows the unstoppable fierce corpse and his new friends, the political mastermind and the rebellious rogue cultivator make their way to the banquet. Wei Wuxian watches them go. He’s moved by the gift, even more by the friendship, and struck with the sometimes-wonderful strangeness of life.

5- After the feast (which is excellent; some of the spicy dishes are very nearly spicy enough, held for the sake of the more sensitive guests in bright red bowls as a warning sign), Wei Wuxian is laughing loud and raucous at a joke that Lan Jingyi has made. He looks to his husband, because he can’t laugh at anything without a glance to Lan Zhan, to see how he reacts and to include him in the happy moment.

The Second Jade of Lan is smiling, actually smiling, and Wei Wuxian feels that smile in every inch of his body, with every atom of his soul.

Wei Wuxian reaches out with both hands to capture that smile, holding his husband’s face between his palms. “Lan Zhan,” he says, and it hits him all of a sudden, like a storm, like a wave, like a runaway cart. He’s awash in the simplicity and wonder of it.

“I’m happy,” he realizes aloud. “Lan Zhan, I’m so happy,” and he pulls the mighty Hanguang Jun down into a long kiss.

When they finally pull apart, Lan Wangji’s face is soft and flushed, his lips pink and kiss-puffed and Wei Wuxian can’t help himself. He gives the unapproachably handsome and unrelentingly serious Chief Cultivator’s soft cheekies a little squeezy-squeeze. Lan Zhan blushes furiously, and Wei Wuxian casts a quick glance around the room to see who has noticed. Most of the guests seemed to have missed it (presumably if they had been keyed into the earlier part of the interaction they became politely engrossed in other pursuits when the snogging started), but Jingyi is frozen with a steamed bun halfway in his mouth, Jiang Cheng is rolling his eyes so hard he must be able to see his own brain, Nie Huaisang gives him an approving wink, Wen Ning is smiling sweetly, and Lan Xichen is administering helpful pats to the back of his uncle, who has choked on his tea. Wei Wuxian leans against his long-suffering husband and laughs and laughs until he doubles over gasping.

6- It’s after the wedding feast, and he and Lan Zhan are looking out at the cool night, listening to the summer insects and the murmurs of conversation filtering out from the banquet hall. Wei Wuxian is leaning against the railing, his husband standing as perfectly straight as always. The taste of good liquor lingers in his mouth, and the fragrance of wildflowers and night air fills his nose. He turns so he’s leaning back on his elbows, gazing up at the most beautiful man in the world.

“You’re really something, you know that?”

“Mm?”

“The peerless Hanguang Jun, so righteous that the wicked tremble at the very mention of him, so valiant that no enemy dare stand against him, so subtle that even the wicked Yiling Patriarch cannot unravel his secrets.” Lan Wangji swallows, and Wei Wuxian watches the bob of his throat with rapt appreciation. He really has no business being so beautiful. Wei Wuxian smirks. “And yet, mighty Hanguang Jun, I do know one of your dark secrets.”

“What secret?” His husband’s eyes are dark in the night. Mysterious. Very very sexy.

“You were nervous about tonight.” Wei Wuxian’s smirk grows to a full grin as Lan Wangji’s gaze drops. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so nervous.” He chuckles at the absurdity of it. “Lan Zhan, I’ve seen you fight worse monsters than most people can imagine without a second of hesitation. I don’t think there’s a soul alive who’d believe me if I told them you almost turned back on the stairs. If I said your hands had been shaking I’d be laughed out of the cultivation world.” He leans closer, his tone shifting soft and gentle. “But you almost did turn back, and your hands did shake. Why? Second thoughts?”

“No,” Lan Wangji responds immediately. “Not second thoughts. I…” it takes him a moment to formulate how he will phrase what he needs to say. Wei Wuxian waits. “I was afraid,” he finally says, “that you would feel I had trapped you into this. That you would feel pressured or ambushed or…” he searches for the right word, “...or used.”

Wei Wuxian laughs again, his ribs complaining about how much of it he’s been doing tonight. “Ah, Lan Zhan, you know how I love feeling used by you!” he laughs more, watching those perfect pale ears go pink.

He shifts over and Lan Wangji takes his hand. “What you guessed on the stairs,” Lan Wangji says. “That you were not invited to an important celebration. I’m sorry. It was never my intent for you to feel unwanted.”

“Lan Zhan, ah, Lan Zhan,” he sighs. He brings his husband’s hand up to his face and kisses his palm, then lays his cheek into it as he keeps talking. “You are too good to me. It truly was a beautiful surprise. I don’t feel unwanted. I feel very…” (it’s still hard to say, hard to believe) “...loved. By a lot of people.” He nods to himself. It’s true, and it really is astounding. He’ll try to trust it, try to keep believing it.

“And honestly,” he continues, dropping their joined hands down to rest on the railing between them, “even if everyone else in the whole world did hate me, I’d have you. You’re amazing, Lan Zhan. You’re perfect. I’d marry you every day. And I truly am impressed you managed to keep it a secret; I really had no idea! So cunning, Lan Zhan! I think I’m a bad influence on you, with my crafty ways!”

“You are the best influence on me,” Lan Wangji says seriously.

“Ah, stop, Lan Zhan!” he moans, shoving him with his shoulder. “Why do you always have to say things like that? They make me want to dig a hole and live in it.”

“Because they’re true, and I want you to believe them.”

Wei Wuxian buries his face in the silken robe over Lan Wangji's chest and groans a muffled “You’re impossible.”

They stand like that for a moment, Wei Wuxian breathing in the earthy smell of the silk and the faint sandalwood fragrance of the skin underneath. Lan Wangji loops a hand around his waist, not trembling now but warm and steady.

“Wei Ying. I have one more surprise for you, if you like.”

He looks up, a wicked twinkle in his eye. “Here? You don’t want to wait for the marriage suite? Hanguang Jun, I’m scandalized!”

His husband smiles again, a tiny lopsided quirk of his lips which Wei Wuxian finds very appealing (his poor face must be exhausted, how many smiles does that make today? Four? five?). “We will wait for the marriage suite for that, although once we enter I do not intend to leave for several days.” Before Wei Wuxian can respond to that beyond an enthusiastic intake of breath, Lan Wangji continues: “I am stepping down as Chief Cultivator.”

That halts the increasingly filthy tumble of Wei Wuxian’s thoughts in their tracks. “You… what? When?”

“Effective tonight. The major sect leaders have been in communication about it. Xiongzhang will take over my former duties tomorrow. He is ready to become involved in the world again, and far better suited to the position than I. I know he will be exemplary, and I believe he will find it fulfilling.”

“Wow, that’s. That’s great, Lan Zhan! I’m really happy for him. For you too. I know how much you hated it. Congratulations.”

Lan Wangji nods in acknowledgment. “Now I will be free to be what I most want to be.” He leaves the statement there, bait.

Wei Wuxian sighs and takes a half-step back, squaring his shoulders to his husband. “I know you’re about to say another one of those things, Lan Zhan. Go ahead, then. I’m prepared.”

“Promise you will not dig a hole to live in.”

“Fine. I promise I won’t dig a hole to live in. Go ahead, do your worst.”

Lan Wangji leans in to press his forehead against Wei Wuxian’s. The silver cloud ornament on his forehead ribbon is cool against the skin there.

“Tell me. What will you be now?” Wei Wuxian whispers.

His husband replies: “Yours.”

The End

[makeste]

BnHA 6th Popularity Poll Reaction Post - Risky Spoiler-Dodging Edition

hey guys, so seeing as the results from the 6th popularity poll were leaked today, I figured I would do a separate reaction + analysis post this year, rather than piling it in as an extra on top of the chapter reaction post tomorrow. I figure this makes more sense anyway, since they’re really two completely different things. also this way I can write as much as I want lol.

also, just fyi, I am still completely unspoiled for chapter 293. and probably the smart thing to do to keep it that way would be to log off tumblr and hold off posting this until tomorrow, but I apparently have no impulse control today so oh well. anyway, so I’m hoping you guys will keep this spoiler-free if you don’t mind! as always, I would prefer to just jump right in completely unaware tomorrow like Troy returning to the study room with the pizza boxes lol.

okay so this first part is just going to be my predictions. fyi I am writing this part on Wednesday night, and then I’ll add on the results part on Thursday or Friday (ETA: Thursday, apparently, since I am impatient.)

okay so first of all, just as a refresher, this poll was open to Japanese voters from Aug 3 to Sep 30. meaning chapters 279 through 285. meanwhile last year’s poll took place around the tail end of the MVA arc. so between then and now we had Heroes Rising, the Endeavor Agency arc, and the War arc up to the part where the 1-A kids took on Gigantomachia in Gunga, and started battling Tomura in Jakku. so technically only a couple of arcs, but a LOT of stuff going down in them. oh and season 4 of the anime as well

so! firstly, I predict that my truculent africanized honeybee son will hold on to his crown at #1, coming off a year in which he did some internship-boosted soul searching, borrowed OFA in movie canon, and finished out the voting period as the my-body-moved-on-its-own character development MVP. like CALL ME CRAZY lol, but I’m pretty sure his title is safe. and then after him will be Deku and Shouto as usual

Aizawa should hopefully also have a strong showing because the dude had a banner fucking year. reunited with his old dead friend, took on Tomura with his hopelessly inept hero pals, and then chopped his fucking leg off. he had better be in the top 10. his fucking leg died for this, idk what else he has to do

Endeavor also stands a decent chance of doing well given the internship arc and the final episode of season 4. which I’m sure will go down just swimmingly if that does happen lmao. especially if he somehow manages to rank higher than...

Dabi, which I don’t think he will btw, but you never know. anyways though, but I’m thinking Dabi’s going to have a stronger showing than in past years (in the last poll he only got 367 votes and was ranked 19th). mostly because of his fight in the Gunga mansion, and his cheekily censored name reveal to...

Hawks, who is also going to rank pretty high here, I think. might be he loses some points for killing off Twice, but his back was basically to the wall there. and he has always been very popular, and I think season 4 will also give him a boost, along with his heavy involvement in the first half of the War arc

Tomura was already in 6th place last year and I think he cracks the top 5 this year. he’s gotten exponentially more popular since the MVA arc, and got a boost in the last poll even though his flashback had only just barely happened, and he hadn’t finished Awakening yet and all that stuff. anyway, so he’s only gotten cooler and more tragic since then so I think he makes a big play here

Kirishima, Momo, Tokoyami, and Mina should also hopefully do well, since the poll opened right in the middle of all that Gigantomachia action, and Toko had just got done being an absolute badass and protecting his birb dad. I don’t think he’ll quite make it to the top ten, but he should

and last but not least, I’m hoping that Mirko will come out and take the polls by storm, although I have no clue how popular she is in Japan lol. she’s clearly Horikoshi’s favorite though. she SHOULD be everyone’s favorite, but I mean, we’ll see how it goes

anyway that’s it as far as predictions! and so now, through the magic of writing stuff at different times, we will fast-forward to the part where we actually find out the results!

OH MY GOD YES, STEAMPUNK KHLKSLLKL. HERE FOR IT. JOLLY GOOD SHOW. 5 STARS

Kacchan looks SO COCKY and SO HAPPY and SO ADORABLE, YES I SAID IT. he is adorable as FUCK. I don’t quite know what it is about this particular Kacchan that just screams “LOOK HOW FUCKING CUTE MY STUPID, LOUD SON IS WITH HIS BIZARRE WINDOWPANE-LOOKING CONVERTIBLE SUNGLASS GOGGLES and his POORLY TIED CRAVAT”, but I think it’s because he looks like if a Digimon character and a FMA character had a baby

anyway, so it looks like most of the people present here are more or less who we expected to see. except that I can’t tell for sure if that’s Dabi or Shindou, and if it’s Shindou I’m going to punch somebody in the face so you will have to excuse me

Iida wearing a TRENCHCOAT and a TOP HAT with ENGINE EXHAUST GOGGLE ACCENTS is my new favorite Iida of all time. take note how there is no possible way he can wear those goggles with them sitting on top of his hat like that. plus he’s already got glasses on. these are just purely for aesthetic and IF THAT AIN’T JUST THE STEAMPUNK WAY

Deku out here speaking softly and carrying a lead pipe. Kacchan you best look out. seems like he’s done watching you take first place year after year while he languishes in the number two spot. your only hope is that he trips while attacking you because his boots are unbuckled

Shouto’s standing over there with the rest of the non-first-and-second-place characters, but what are the odds his results are actually within spitting distance of Deku’s same as always. anyway he doesn’t mind, though. also his outfit is by far the most sensible one here, but if you look closely he’s got some sort of fire extinguisher/jet pack thing strapped to his back that’s got a control switch on his belt. Shouto are you jetpacking or putting out fires

Kirishima out here all “I’m not sure what steampunk is so I’m just going to take off my shirt and pose”

AIZAWA WITH THE EYEPATCH SKLKSDLKFJLSKJLDFKJSLDFFJLDKSJFL:KS. SIR. SIR. also, lowkey furious that Horikoshi refuses to show us the automail leg that he is clearly sporting here but which we just can’t see, SHOUTO MOVE GODDAMMIT

Endeavor has TWO fire extinguisher-slash-jetpacks. THE BETTER TO... WHATEVER. look at you here in the top ten again. you really live for that controversy

HAWKS OUT HERE WITH HIS STEAMPUNK BEATS BY DRE AND HIS WEARING A RING ON EVERY FINGER. nice to see you’ve still got your wings there, kiddo. then again Deku still has both of his arms too so who even knows what is going on

BUT SERIOUSLY THOUGH, IS THIS DABI OR SHINDOU. as if I don’t know the truth deep down in my heart. y’all I am gonna flip lmao. it’s not that I dislike Shindou, strictly speaking. but just... I can’t explain what it is, but if you put him and AFO next to each other and told me “you can only punch one”, I would be having a serious crisis. just, THIS FUCKING GUY, idek. STOP SMILING

Tomura looks like he just wandered onto the set here by mistake and has no idea where he is or what is going on. it’s because you’re wearing a bigass severed hand that’s blocking your entire view, Tomura. just take the hand off your face my sweet murder dumpling

anyway! so I managed to also find a link to the full poll results while somehow managing to avoid spoilers, and then I wanted to compare the results to last year’s poll, and so I made... this

hopefully you can all see this. if you’re on desktop you might be screwed, but on mobile you should be able to click and enlarge it. I mean, assuming you actually give a fuck about boring poll analysis spreadsheets lmao

anyway, so there were actually 13k fewer votes cast this year which is a bit of a surprise. is the series not still growing in popularity? do people apparently have better things to do during their quarantine lol

anyways but despite this, and despite getting 8k fewer votes overall, Kacchan still managed almost twice as many as his closest competitor. well fought, Deku. please put down that pipe

I somehow always underestimate the power of ship popularity to influence these things. but for example, it looks like Present Mic got that Vigilantes Trio bump. ride that wave for all it’s worth my man! hell, you got me on board

Iida fucking Tenya somehow got some sort of POWER BOOST out of NOWHERE which I can’t explain at all lmao, but I’m here for it. NOT BAD FOR AN OLD MAN

Sero managed to get the exact same number of votes in both 2019 and 2020. clearly the most loyal fans in the business

Mirko being all the way down at #20 is, of course, a travesty, and I hereby nominate her to be the one to punch Shindou in the face

ngl though, the lack of a single female character in the top ten hurts just a bit. it’s not overly surprising, but still. the worst part of it is that even if you kicked Shindou to the curb and moved everyone else up one slot, it would still be all dudes since Mic beat out Momo by a margin of a little more than a hundred votes. hard to stay mad at Mic for too long, though. ah well

Tomura actually lost a bunch of votes which is a genuine surprise to me. I know the villain standom isn’t as dominant in Japan as it is in Western fandom, but still. you can go ahead and punch Shindou too I guess

Tokoyami lowkey doubled his vote count over the past year while hiding down there at #18. he is slowly becoming more powerful. biding his time

anyway so I think that’s it! I mean not really, but I’m getting kind of tired lol. so just, you know, insert the usual gripes at Overhaul’s ranking here, although we can be happy about Magne making her way onto the list (r.i.p.), and Mineta and AFO taking a very satisfying slide down (all the way out, in AFO’s case; good riddance you bum). Hadou also got a huge boost which is awesome. Mustard’s persistent ownership of the #36 spot will forever remain a mystery to me, but oh well

anyways, this was fun. and I really do feel like everyone is looking away on purpose so that when Deku brains Kacchan with that pipe in about two seconds from now, there will be no witnesses, oh my fucking god

[n1tel1te]

Darcy is hit with an airborne toxin while working at Stark Labs after the events of the Snap and being reborn with Jane. After suffering through a sickness for about a week, she recovers enough to come back to work and finds the toxin and it’s cure have had some unintended side effects.

(quick reversal of canon: Steve decides he can’t leave Bucky by himself after seeing Peggy, who lets him go after he meets her in the middle of a third date with a coworker- aka Daniel Sousa. Steve returns home to Bucky and says nothing on the matter though he mourns what might have been.)

Darcy and Jane have been working for Stark since the Return, Jane more convinced than ever that they need the technology behind the rainbow bridge so something like this can’t happen again. They both settle in quick, working closely with Scott and Bruce (there’s a statue of Tony in the lobby). Darcy enjoys flirting with Rhodey when he comes by. Wanda is elusive at first but Darcy eventually corners her with baked goods and organizes ‘girl time’ where she and Wanda attempt to force Jane to watch a movie. Wanda is still broken-hearted over Vision and Darcy thinks she might need a good distraction.

The first time she meets Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, they’ve come to talk to the Science division and Bruce (Pepper authorized it) about a new arm for Bucky. Sam Wilson also tags along, and Darcy has a good back and forth with him. Steve watches on in amusement, and Bucky doesn’t know how to take it when she hits on him, which she likes. When Steve gives as good as he gets she finds herself flushing instead, and admits she’s a bit out of her depth with him to Jane. 

The arm is delayed and the group is to stay the night. Darcy organizes a BBQ while everybody’s around and they have a good night; she makes fast friends with Sam and finds herself drawn to Bucky, who keeps to the outskirts of the festivities. She’s flustered by Steve now but can’t stop herself from pushing. She gets buzzed but not drunk and has a great night flirting and hanging out with friends. 

The next day Bucky’s arm is modified, Darcy gets to say goodbye before they head out and is tempted to ask for a number, but from who? She honestly can’t decide.

A week or so later there’s a disturbance in the labs and a villain crashes their pad. Darcy is with Jane and Bruce, and once Bruce hustles off to find out what’s going on, Darcy and Jane get separated (darcy ducked back into the lab to grab Jane’s comp) when Friday’s emerg protocols kick in due to a biohazard and a steel door slams between them. Darcy yells at Jane to get to the saferoom, and after a coughing fit that shaves a year off her life, passes out. 

When she wakes up she’s in a hospital bed with Jane at her bedside, and Thor beside her. It’s a new development that gets her asking how long she was under for, and it turns out it was just a few days. There was a bit of a scare when they thought she wouldn’t pull through, her fever spiked, but she made it out alright. Thor leaves so Jane can fall apart and tells Darcy not to scare her like that ever again. Darcy promises, images of her limp on the floor dancing in her head, and she pushes it aside thinking that she’s better now. 

She takes a day recuperating before she gets bored and heads back to the labs. Bruce greets her and asks how she is, and hearing his stomach rumble she also says hungry, thinking of roast beef (which she’s never been fond of). When she passes him the food she brought with their hands touch and she experiences a rush of something- rage?? –that knocks her clear off her feet. 

Bruce helps her up and insists she go back to her room to rest; she gets out of there as fast as possible, not looking forward to being assigned more bedrest, and only once she leaves takes a moment to wonder what the hell that was about. PTSD?

Darcy takes a nap and wakes up for dinner, wandering into the cafeteria to find Wanda has pulled Jane aside for food, and Scott is there with them. Wanda and Jane both voice their concern and Wanda presses a cool hand to Darcy’s forehead, swamping her with feelings of worry but also a calming deluge of tenderness, and Darcy leans into her. Both she and Jane usher Darcy to a chair and put together a plate for her, and Darcy feels like she’s suddenly smothered with care. 

When they drift away to the food, Scott asks how she’s been since the attack and Darcy brushes aside the after effects, thinking it’s nothing that won’t disappear in time. Scott tells her he still dreams about being stuck in the quantum realm and they share a quiet moment of understanding. 

Darcy says maybe she should speak to somebody about it and Scott suggests Banner, although he’s not that kind of doctor. Darcy thanks him as Jane and Wanda return to the table and they get to eating. 

~*~*~*~

Things seem to level out after that. Darcy still has odd moments where sudden anger or frustration hit her, or a melancholy she’s not familiar with, but she manages to temper them as best she can and keep on going. About a week after her collapse with Bruce, Sam and Bucky and Steve show up again, lured by the promise of upgraded tech. Sam is getting his wings revamped and one of the Stark minions wants to talk to Steve about his shield. 

Darcy runs into Bucky on her way to the lab, arms laden with metal gadgets for Jane to tinker with. He doesn’t exactly smile at her but he seems to lighten as she comes upon him and she greets him cheerfully. A warm feeling envelopes her and as they talk (he tells her he heard about the attack, asks how she is)  and when he reaches out to steady her hand on the tray she pictures them standing toe to toe, his hands on her hips and hers on his shoulders. Their noses brush. 

She jerks out of the fantasy, embarrassed, when he asks her if she needs a hand with the tray. She’s too caught off guard by how vivid that daydream was and makes excuses, ducking around him and promising to see him at dinner. 

Darcy takes a moment to calm down before she steps into the lab, telling herself her hormones are getting out of control, and once she’s past the door she realizes it’s not just Bruce and Jane there but Steve and Sam as well. They’ve come to visit Bruce and Sam flirts with her a bit but she’s still thrown by what happened in the hall. 

As Sam talks to another of the tech guys, Steve sidles over to Darcy and asks how she is. Darcy brushes the question and his seriousness aside, joking that she’s better now that he’s here, and he leans into her desk while she busies herself shuffling papers around trying not to look at him. She doesn’t know why she suddenly feels so on edge?

She asks how long they’re staying this time and Steve is noncommittal about it, saying they’re not sure. When she goes to sit down he reaches for her seat to pull it out for her just as she does the same, and when their hands graze Darcy has a sudden jolt in the pit of her stomach. His hands feel like they’re abruptly elsewhere, she feels like she’s been pushed into the back of her chair, that he’s right behind her, that he’s slipped under her shirt, that his mouth is at her neck. 

She snaps out of it when he says her name and she wobbles, but darts away from his hands when he tries to steady her. He seems concerned but she tells him she’s just tired, hasn’t been sleeping too well. Sam calls him back over and he wanders away, saying he’ll see her at dinner. Darcy drops into her seat wondering what the hell that was about. 

[offspring-of-calliope]

Watching 1992sies in German so you don't have to - Part 1/2

(Disclaimer: this commentary is made for entertainment purposes. I actually really appreciate the work that went into translating and dubbing films to make them more accessible to non-english or non-language-of-the-movie speakers)

Part 2/2

The voice of the narrator at the beginning sounds so deep and grown-up that I really hope that this isn't the real dub of Race

The songs sound so incredibly strange in German, it's like they wanted to put too much words in one line

Update: I guess the narrator's voice wasn't Race's dub but the real dub still irks me

I like Crutchy's voice to be honest

I'm still not over Mush's "Schön war's letzte Nacht" which I already talked about

They literally sing "Welcome to New York" in the German version and I don't know how I feel about that (they also use the word newsboys untranslated... couldn't they've at least used Newsies?)

There's generally a redundant use of the word New York - they even translated the first chorus of Carrying the Banner to "Ain't it great, boys, selling papers in New York. Ain't it great, boys, we're owning the streets of New York."

Now I know what's off - I miss my Newsies dialect... I guess there's no German equivalent for that

Sidenote: I don't know why but I feel like I need subtitles to understand what they're singing at times (spoiler alert: apparently there are no German subtitles)

They use the phrase "total angeschissen" for "Weasel just makes me eat 'em after" which basically translates to "we're totally f*cked"

The dub kinda lacks emotions sometimes and the voices are sorta similar (why does Les sound so mature?)

Davey sounds so insecure when he introduces Jack to his family, it feels like he's bringing his boyfriend home for the first time

And when he asks Jack to stay over, his voice gets literally so soft?

I'm kinda afraid of Santa Fe

Update: it's not as bad as I anticipated, I actually quite liked it

Considering the missing Newsies dialect, I am even under the impression that they're talking in High German so there are times when the Newsies sound way too formal

One good thing: I can finally understand what the Newsies in the background are saying

Maybe it was only the acoustics right now but I think Davey just called Jack Jake

Okay, time to see what they've done to my baby The World will know

I'm sorry but I can't take Davey seriously with that voice - he definitely lacks authority (authority might be the wrong word - how about feelings in general? a will to really say something?)

English names spoken with a German accent sound so amusing

What happened to Boots' voice right now? (His singing voice is definitely something else)

Since I can now concentrate on the music instead of the lyrics I have to admit that I think that it's sometimes more forceful and expressive than in the musical

The endings of the lines never rhyme! (I know that that's not a necessity but it irks me)

Our man Denton!

Noooo! They didn't translate an equivalent to the ambastards!

When Davey tells Jack to talk to Pulitzer, the grown men in the background are kinda loud tbh - go away, unimportant voices!

Denton's dub reminds me of an 'older man' who reads audiobooks in his freetime

Denton's "of course not" when Jack asks for no pictures sounds so sarcastic

No. (My comment on Spot's voice)

"Spot Cunlen"

Another positive thing: I think they handled the translation of Seize the Day very well. The other songs seemed to differ a lot from the original at times

Honestly, when Davey's trying to keep the boys from beating up the scabs, he sounds like that one kid in class that tries to talk but everytime they do somebody keeps interrupting them

"Heim" doesn't sound as serious/bad as "refuge"

"Keine Bange, Brooklyn hält euch die Stange." - I don't even know how to translate this so I'm just gonna leave it here

[let-love-run-red]

Vengeance

Hey I have a request if you're willing to write it. How about one where reader is married to Kylo and they have a kid, and reader is angry at Rey for what happened to Kylo and decides to hunt her down for revenge?

-I’m not sure if this is what you had in mind Anon, but this was my take on this, hope you enjoy!

Contains TROS spoilers

General tag list: @keithseabrook27​, @scarlettsoldier​, @simonsbluee​

Empress (y/n) Ren. The unseen second head of the First Order. Now Supreme Leader Mistress Ren, mother to Prince Lucdall Ren. You and his father had often called him Lucky, because that's what he was. He'd been born into the most powerful family. He was a gorgeous baby, and grew into a gorgeous child, with his father’s thick dark hair and strong nose. He had your attitude and your grace. He was already a strong force user and had been training with his father for the day he was to take over the First Order.

Until she came along. 

Rey "Skywalker." You growled every time you heard that name uttered. As you walked through the marketplaces of the planets that had renewed hope. You gripped Lucdall's hand tightly, tugging him along behind you. He was scared, he was confused. His father was gone, he didn't understand death. He was only four years old, he didn't understand why his father wasn't going to come back, he didn't understand why the two of you had to exchange your sleek black clothing for the dusty rags of peasants and slink about the planets in search of hidden First Order bases to regain your following.

There were few things he did understand. He understood that you, his loving mother, cried herself to sleep every night. He understood he must stay quiet, keep his head down, not let anybody see his face. He had made that mistake on Coruscant, somebody had seen his face as they walked through an alley and tried to harm him. Luckily for him, you were a talented warrior that had managed to grab Kylo's recovered lightsaber as you escaped the burning First Order ship with your son.

He also understood the name Rey Skywalker, or Rey Palpatine as you called her, was one to be hated. He saw the way your jaw jumped when somebody said her name, the way your hand itched towards the lightsaber on your hip. If the way you tracked her across the galaxy wasn't enough of an indication the way the rest of the galaxy flew banners with her name etched on them was. Lucdall wasn’t a fan of her either.

As you piloted the small ship you'd stolen off Jakku you listened to Lucky play with a few small toys you'd purchased at one of the marketplaces. They were simple, nothing compared to the various things his father had brought him when he was alive, but they were enough to keep a four-year-old entertained.

Especially a four-year-old with the force you thought as one of the toys hovered around your head. It was a stuffed Nerf. You smiled and brushed it away from your face.

"Lucky, mommy has to fly. Please keep the toys with you?" You asked. You heard a quiet "ok mommy" as the nerf floated back to where Lucky was playing. You heard a sniffle and risked a glance behind you to see Lucky in the middle of the few toys with tears in his eyes. You turned the ship on autopilot before standing from your seat and walking towards your son. He looked so much like Kylo, it hurt you sometimes.

"Lucky, what's wrong?" Lucky stood form his place on the floor and held his arms out to you. You picked him up off the ground and held him against you. He wrapped his arms around your neck and buried his small face in your neck as his small body shook with sobs. You rubbed his back and smoothed his hair down. You sat on the small bed in the cramped ship, trying to hold back your own tears.

Lucdall finally pulled away, wiping his nose and eyes on the sleeve of his shirt. He looked at you, his bottom lip quivering. You felt a pang of sadness looking at your son. The shirt was too large for him, and you could tell it itched by the way he kept fidgeting. He was barefoot, he'd long outgrown his boots. He was growing so quickly; you knew in your heart he was going to be at least as tall as his father. You hadn't been able to find new shoes that you could afford, so you'd wrapped his feet in cloth in an attempt to at least provide some barrier between them and the ground.

"I miss daddy." He said. Those words were enough to re-light the fire that fueled the anger in your heart against the last Jedi. You pursed your lips and used the edge of your sleeve to wipe Lucky's tears from his eyes. You pulled him back into your chest and brushed over his hair once again. It was nearly as long as Kylo's was, and still soft.

"When will he find us?" Lucky asked quietly. You took a deep shaky breath, and let it out slowly.

You had to tell him.

"Lucky, baby." You said softly. He pulled away and looked at you expectantly. He had the eyes of Kylo Ren. There was no doubt he was the Supreme Leader's child, no doubt he was the heir to the throne of the broken remains of the First Order.

"Daddy's not," You paused as you looked at him. How were you supposed to tell a child his father, the man he loved and looked up to, the man who was supposed to protect him and teach him how to protect himself, wasn't going to find him.

"Daddy's not going to find us baby." You said. Lucky's eyebrows furrowed tightly.

"What do you mean? Daddy always finds us." He said. You could hear the familiar buzz in your ears that happened whenever Kylo went on a rampage or Lucky threw a fit. The sound of the force in your son becoming angry.

"Daddy can't find us. Daddy's not coming back." You said. He didn't know death; you didn't know how to explain it.

"Daddy always comes back." Lucky said, more seriously now. The buzz was growing louder, you didn't know if you could handle a force tantrum right now. Kylo was always the one to calm him when he had a force tantrum. But Kylo wasn't here anymore, you were.

"Lucdall Ren listen to me." You said sternly. Your sudden change in demeanor shocked him out of the beginning of his tantrum, but only slightly.

"Daddy is not coming back. Some very bad people hurt daddy, very badly." You said. The buzzing in your ears subsided slightly and you let out a breath.

"Daddy can get better, can't he?" Lucky asked as his bottom lip started quivering again.

"Not this time baby. They hurt him too bad." You said. Lucky took a breath again, before leaning against your chest. You rubbed his back again and pressed your lips to the top of his head. His hair was covered in grease and sand. You glanced out the front window to see the planet Tatooine floating before you.

"I want to hurt them." You heard Lucky mumble. You pulled him back. His eyes had taken on an angry gleam, one you had seen in his father many times.

"I want to hurt the people who hurt daddy." He said. You heard a crackle in your ears and watched the toys on the floor begin to vibrate.

"No Lucky." You said, resting your palm against his cheek and pressing your forehead to his own. You waited for him to do what he'd done since he was a baby, open his mind to you and allow you to take away his anger. You were his mother, and you were hellbent on making sure your baby never hurt. Finally, Lucky gave in, revealing the anger and sadness that had been brewing in his mind since the downfall of the First Order. Since the two of you had woken one morning with Kylo missing and the First Order in shreds after the emperor’s fleet had been destroyed. You held it with you as Lucky fell asleep in your arms. It always took his energy to release his emotions, he would sleep for now. Long enough for you to finish what you had come here for.

You landed the ship on Tatooine as close to the old home of Luke Skywalker as you could without alerting the Scavenger. The nobody. You stood from your seat, dropping the rags that draped over you like a shawl and leaving only the tightly wrapped fabric secured by one of Kylo's old belts. His lightsaber attached to your hip, along with the daggers you'd stolen and bought as backups. You walked to where Lucky lay on the scratchy mattress, bent down, and placed a soft kiss on his temple.

"Sleep my prince, I'll return soon." You exited the ship, closing the hatch and approaching the settlement. She was force sensitive; you knew she could sense you as you approached. You had enough knowledge of the force to know that she could sense you. You watched as she appeared from the settlement, squinting into the sun. Her lightsaber on her own hip. You walked with purpose, the tails of your knee-length outfit whipping behind you as you did. 

She was the reason he was dead. The reason your son had to be raised without a father. The reason he was sleeping on a flat mattress on a junk ship rather than in his quarters on a star destroyer. She was the one that broke Kylo Ren, the one who killed Ben Solo, the one who destroyed your family. A smile broke her face as you approached.

"Hello, it’s been so long since I've had visitors. I'm Rey Skywalker, you are?" She said as you continued your approach. Her eyes flicked to the belt around your midsection, face falling as she recognized the lightsaber you drew and ignited.

"Allow me to introduce myself." You growled as you swung it at her. She ignited her own, blocking your rapid hits as you pushed her back further.

"I am (y/n) Ren, wife of Kylo Ren and Supreme Leader of the First Order." You said through gritted teeth. You pushed against her blade and lifted one leg, kicking her stomach and pushing her onto her back in the sand.

"Wife? I didn't think Ben was married." She said. There was that name, Ben. No. He was Kylo. You stood over her and raised Kylo's saber to drive it into her chest. She threw you off her with the force and you cursed as you landed and rolled to your feet, turning to face her and block her swing as your (h/c) hair whipped around your face. You used your other hand to grab one of the daggers on your other hip, preparing to throw it into her stomach when she used the force to throw the daggers from their place and bury them in the sand.

"He turned to the light on his own, he was good." She said. You growled and pushed back with Kylo's saber, catching her blade on the cross guard and pushing the tip into the ground. You kicked her in the head as she bent with her blade to avoid losing it and she stumbled backwards before lashing out with the force. She pinned your arms to your side as you thrashed against her hold.

"He was the strongest man in the galaxy, you ripped him away from me." You hissed. You could feel a crackling in your ears, and assumed it was from being pinned with the force. Rey stood form the ground, taking deep breaths.

"You're not force sensitive." She said breathlessly. You continued to struggle against her hold.

"(y/n), I don't want to kill you. Please, just go." Rey said. You could feel the force loosening its hold on you.

"I will not." You said as you broke free and charged her again. Rey lifted her saber to block your wild swings as you cried out in rage, stumbling when she pinned your red blade to the ground and threw an ill-timed kick to your back. You rolled over the lightsaber blades, landing down on one knee as Rey knocked the saber from your hand with the force.

"(y/n) I'm going to give you one last chance to run." Rey said. You lunged at her, dodging the saber blade and tackling her to the ground, knocking her own blade from her hand as you wrapped your arms around her midsection. She let out a groan as she connected with the ground.

"You ripped apart my family!" You yelled, pinning her to the ground with your knees on her hands and throwing hit after his to her face. She tried throwing you off, only for you to punch her harder.

"You are the reason we're alone!" You cried. Rey took a breath before throwing you off and rolling to her feet, spitting blood from her mouth.

"We?" She asked, using the force to summon her saber. You took a few deep breaths, scrabbling frantically for Kylo's saber. You couldn't lose it; you could not be unarmed.

"The First Order must die." She growled, wiping blood from her face and raising her saber.

"And it will die with you." She raised her saber, only to freeze with a gasp before dropping the saber.

"Mommy!" You heard Lucdall's voice. You turned to see him holding his fist towards the two of you, his hair flared around his head and his eyes a disturbing shade of yellow.

"Lucdall!" You cried, running towards him. He released his grip on Rey who fell to the ground clutching her throat and gasping.

"It's not possible," She breathed, looking to Lucdall in fear.

"He is, he can't be a force user." You scooped up your son in your arms, looking around frantically for Kylo's saber as you clutched Lucdall close. He wriggled in your grip as Rey stood and rubbed her throat. She retrieved the saber before approaching the two of you. You curled yourself around Lucky, holding him close while growling at Rey.

"If you come any closer, I'll kill you." You seethed. She looked on in pity, raising her saber to strike. You lowered your head and held Lucdall as he squirmed, before you heard two blades clashing. You looked up to see a glowing blue light holding Kylo's saber.

"Ben?" Rey asked. You looked up to see the shape of Kylo, as a force ghost, holding his own saber.

"You dare raise your hand to my wife?" He growled angrily. You looked on in disbelief as he pushed against Rey's saber harder.

"Dream of harming my child?" He shouted, swinging his blade and catching hers against the cross guard to twist it from her grip, he caught it in his other hand and flicked it on. 

"To use my family name against one of my own blood!" He cried, swinging the sabers towards her. She ducked and rolled away from him, scrambling in the sand for something. She continued backing away from Kylo. He was all grace, light on his feet and dancing through the sand as she slipped on her own clothes.

"Ben you were good!" Rey cried, digging in the sand once again as he approached her.

"A moment of weakness." Kylo growled, raising his own saber when Rey finally produced a bundle of cloth, ripping it open to reveal Luke and Leia's sabers. She ignited them both, standing to face Kylo. You watched the two face off, still holding Lucdall close. He had been trying to struggle out of your grasp since the moment Kylo appeared, recognizing his father’s voice.

"I want to see Daddy!" Lucky finally cried, causing Kylo to turn and face the two of you. Rey swiped at his midsection with the saber, having no effect on the ghost. Kylo turned to face her with anger in his eyes. He finally raised both sabers he held, kicking Rey down into the sand.

"You can't touch me." He said, crossing the sabers across her throat. She breathed out heavily as Kylo pulled the blades together, finally ending the Palpatine line forever. He let out a huff, dropping the scavengers saber next to her lifeless form, sheathing his own saber and turning to you and Lucdall.

As he approached, Lucdall suddenly grew shy, burying his face within your robes. Kylo knelt in the sand in front of you, watching quietly from a short distance. You stroked Lucdall’s back, feeling tears in your eyes as you looked upon the face of the man you loved. You smoothed your hand over Lucdall’s hair and gently pulled him away from your body, turning him to face Kylo.

"Hello little one." Kylo said softly to Lucdall. Lucdall glanced up to Kylo's smiling face before looking back to where Kylo sat in the sand, nothing being displaced by the ghost. 

"Daddy?" He asked, scooting forward slightly. Kylo grinned wider and nodded, sitting cross-legged in the sand. Lucdall stood from your lap, moving towards Kylo and reaching out a hand to touch his face. Lucdall hesitated before his hand connected with Kylo's face, and Kylo gently reached his hand to take his son's own. Lucdall looked down to see his hand through his father’s semi-transparent one.

"You've grown so big." Kylo said to Lucdall, voice wavering. Lucdall stepped closer to Kylo once more, leaning experimentally against his chest. Kylo wrapped his arms around his son, holding him close. You shuffled forward, running your hand over Kylo's bicep to feel fabric. You pulled back in surprise.

"How?" You asked. Force ghosts were not supposed to be able to touch things or interact with the world around them. Kylo opened one arm, pulling you against him and whispering in your ear.

"I don't have much time; I used the dark side to finish it. I won't be here much longer I just had to, I had to see you. To feel you, to hold him." He said, gripping the back of your outfit and burying his face in your neck as you brushed your fingers through his hair. You felt Kylo shaking and looked down to see him crying. Lucdall was crying as well, crying and clinging to his father's robes the way he would when he was young.

"Lucky," Kylo said softly when he pulled away from you. Lucdall looked up to meet his father’s eyes. Kylo lowered his forehead to press it against Lucdall's own before speaking. "my brave son. You are destined for greatness. Never forget your father loves you." He said, before releasing Lucdall from his grasp and guiding him towards you. He reached out to rest his hand against your cheek.

"And you, my beautiful beloved (y/n)," He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, "I will always protect you." Kylo said, before standing to his feet. He offered you his saber and you took it, reattaching it to your belt. You watched as Kylo turned his back to you walking into where the sun was setting before fading away with the dust. You felt tears slip from your eyes as you held Lucdall tighter.

"Come Lucky, it's time to go home." 

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love and Medicine ~ 12

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,815ish

Summary: You are still trying to cope with the fact that Steve’s married. (Read note at the end of the chapter.)

I do not own Grey’s Anatomy or Marvel.

You and Natasha eventually found your way back to your house and into your bedroom’s adjoining bathroom. Natasha was in the bathtub as you laid on the floor.

“It's not us. It's them,” you said. “Them and their stupid boy penises. They didn't tell me they had a wife. They gave absolutely no warning that they were going to break up with you.”

“It's not that Banner broke up with me,” Natasha began. “It's how he broke up with me. Like it was business. Like it was a business transition like he's the boss of me!”

“He is the boss of you.”

“And what's worse is that I care.”

"I'm gonna throw up again.” You moved so that you were leaned over the toilet bowl. "No. Wait. False alarm.”

“Look, the problem is estrogen.”

“No, the problem is tequila.”

“I used to be all business, and then he goes and gets me pregnant.”

“With the stupid boy penis.”

“Now, I'm having hormone surges. He ruined me. I'm ruined. He turned me into this fat, stupid, pregnant girl. Who cares! Estrogen!”

Having heard the commotion from your bathroom, Val, Scott, and Clint found themselves standing in the doorway.

“Penises,” you stated. “Penises Val.”

“Estrogen, Scott. Estrogen,” Nat added.

“Okay…” Scott said, looking around. “What did I miss?”

“I came home to full on vomit drama,” Val explained. “Apparently she dumped Derek and her—“ Val pointed Nat’s way. “She’s been sleeping with Banner!”

“What?”

“So you really broke up with Rogers?” Clint asked.

“I feel empty,” you responded.

“Two hours of vomiting will do that to you,” Val said with a shrug.

“You’re lucky,” Nat added. “I feel pissed off.”

~~~

Arriving in the parking garage, you could clearly see Steve waiting for you. Getting out of your car, you slammed the door as he came closer.

“Stop,” you growled at him.

“What?” Steve questioned, pretending to be all innocent.

“You're stalking me. Stop it.” You continued into the building with Steve following you.

“Did we not communicate last night?”

“Yes.”

“Did you hear what I was saying?”

“Your wife screwed your best friend.”

“And then from that point on she no longer existed to me anymore.”

“You had marital amnesia?”

“No.” Steve reached out and grabbed your arm, successfully stopping you. “Come on I bared my soul to you last night.”

“It's not enough.”

“How can that be not enough?”

“When you waited 2 months to tell me and I had to find out by her showing up, all leggy and fabulous and telling me herself, you pulled the plug. I'm a sink with an open drain. Anything that you say runs right out. There is no enough.” You pulled away hurrying inside with your friends after you.

“She probably could've picked a better metaphor,” Clint commented.

“Give her a break,” Scott said. “She’s got a hangover.”

With a huff, Steve followed. Tony, who was also coming in, quickly caught up to him.

“Dr. Rogers!” He called.

“Dr. Stark,” Steve replied.

“We have an organ donor coming in this afternoon. We're doing a harvest.”

“Commendable, but—“

“In OR one at four.”

“I’m in OR one at four.”

“Your surgery is non-critical.”

“You can’t bump me!”

“As Chief, I can. You’ll be first up tomorrow.”

“Interim Chief. Bump somebody else!”

“You’re in the OR we need.”

“Why can’t the harvest be done somewhere else?”

“Cause the donor’s coming in from a small facility. We have the location, the airport nearby and the staff. Your surgery is rescheduled.” Then Tony turned, heading away.

“I’m not done talking about this, Stark!”

“Well, I am! See ya around Rogers!”

~~~

Rounds weren’t too bad, especially because you successfully ignored both Peggy and Steve. It even became slightly better when Gamora called you in for a bowel obstruction. Except the guy wouldn’t tell you what he ingested.

“You know, Mr. Sanders, it would be easier if you just told us what you ingested,” you pried, taking him to radiology. “We’ll know anyone, once we see the films.”

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” Mr. Sanders responded.

“Mr. Sanders, whatever you’ve ingested could kill you. Are you sure you don’t just want to tell me?”

“It might offend you.”

“It might? Is it drugs?”

“No.”

“Mr. Sanders.”

“It’s not drugs, I promise.”

“Well, good, I’m glad.”

“I… Nope, not going to tell you.”

“Fine by me. We just reached radiology, so I’m going to find out anyway.”

It wasn’t long before Mr. Sanders was back in his room and the radiologist had found you with the scans.

“It’s drugs,” the radiologist stated handing the scans over to you. “Looks like at least 13 small balloons in the bowel. My guess, cocaine.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, holding up the scans up to the light. 

They didn’t totally look like balloons, so you weren’t completely convinced. Before you made any judgement calls, you found Gamora.

“It’s drugs,” you told her, handing her the scans. 

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she muttered, placing the scans onto a screen. “One burst and he’s dead in minutes. Okay, what do we do?”

“Run his bowel.”

“And what does that mean?”

“Running the bowel entails removing all 36 feet of the intestine from the body cavity, hand searching for the balloons and then cutting them out.”

“Good. Book an OR and get two other interns on board, need all the hands we can get.”

“Dr. Gamora,” Y/N called as Gamora tired to leave. 

“Yes?”

“Are you sure they’re balloons?”

“You have reason to believe they’re not?”

“Well, the more I look the more I realize that this one,” you pointed to the scans, “has a face.” Gamora looked closer. “And this one… they all do.”

“I’ll be damned. They’re Barbies. He swallowed 13 Barbie doll heads.”

~~~

“Barbie heads?” Scott repeated after you told him, Natasha, and Peter what happened.

“Yeah,” you responded. “And Gamora wants two of you to join us in surgery.”

“I’m already booked.”

“I can do it,” Natasha said.

“Me too,” Peter said.

“My foster mothers used to buy me Barbie dolls. All sorts of them.”

“I also wanted one,” you added. “My parents never let me.”

“I dissected them. Cut off their arms, shaved their heads.”

“You’re a little scary,” Scott stated. “You know that?”

“I try.”

“Sounds like there’s a sick and twisted story behind this,” Peter said.

“No, they’re sexist, distorted devil toys that create unrealistic expectations carrying to the porn driven minds of men,” Natasha expressed.

“You swallow a bitter pill this morning, Romanoff?” Gamora questioned, coming up to you interns. “They’re just dolls. Quill, call for a psych consult. Then see if he has family.”

“Should I still book the OR?” You wondered.

“Blocked bowels become necrotic bowels. Check with Dr. Stark, see if we can bump someone. Those Barbies gotta come out today.”

~~~

Gamora had given Clint the impossible assignment to revive a patient. And, unfortunately for him, he was stuck with Laura.

“Any family members waiting?” He asked as he stapled up the man’s chest.

“Still trying to reach them,” Laura responded.

“Good. Well, I mean, not good that we haven’t reached anyone. Good that I don’t have to, uh…”

“It’s always hard.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry about Peter.”

“It’s fine. It’s good. No need to talk about it.”

“You do understand that I had sex with him before you, not during, right? Because when you and I were together—“

“I understand.”

“I just wanted to clear the air.”

“Oh, it’s clear. Perfectly clear… okay.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“And about the syphilis—“

“We really on’t have to talk about it.”

“Which is, I mean, I didn’t know I had it. I definitely should have, I’m a nurse. Like, there was a sore and I was all itchy.”

“Okay!” He backed away almost knocked the tray beside him over. “You know I, uh, got it. You know things happen.” He moved to the door, away from Laura.

“They really do. Things you wish you could change.”

Clint’s pager rang and he looked down. “It’s the Chief, I gotta take this.”

“Sure… Clint.”

“Yes?”

“You have to call it.”

“Call it?”

“Him.”

“Oh, yeah.” He looked at his watch. “Time of death 1:37.” He turned to leave again.

“And, Clint,” he paused, not turning around this time, “if we could, I wouldn’t mind trying again.”

“Maybe… some day…”

~~~

Tony was walking down the hall with Maria, going over the donor surgery.

“When is the donor getting here?” He asked.

“Should be here at 3. Harvest team’s not heir way in.”

“I also need to touch base with the transplant center about a patient here getting his son’s liver.”

You walked up. “Dr. Stark,” you called. “Dr. Gamora needs an OR and they’re all booked.”

“For?”

“An emergent bowel obstruction.” She handed him the scans.

“Drugs?”

“Barbie heads. 13 of them.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

Maria looked at the films. “I can see their little faces,” she commented. “That patient must have serious issues.”

“Hill, can your hernia in 1 be bumped?” Tony asked.

“Most likely.”

“Do it.”

“On it.” Maria left.

“Thank you, Dr. Stark,” you said, moving to go.

Tony grabbed your wrist and stopped you. “Y/N, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not. I’m really fine.” And you pulled away.

~~~

You, Gamora, and a doctor from psych were currently discussing the psych evaluation on Mr. Sanders.

“He’s not talking. It could be pica,” the psych doctor stated. “Doubtful for a man his age. Maybe an oedipal complex or an idolization of the doll as his partners. Or it could be that he simply enjoys it.”

“Now I've seen a lot of strange things in strange places but how does he enjoy this?” Gamora questioned.

“He’d enjoy it when they came out.”

“I didn’t need to hear that.”

“Dr. L/N,” Peggy called as she walked back. “May I speak with you for a moment?” You looked at Gamora for help.

“Don’t look at me. I’m not gonna help you.”

With a sigh, you went to Peggy and the two of you began walking away.

“I assume he told you why he left me,” she said.

Annoyed, you stopped in front of her. “Look, Dr. Rogers, will all do respect, this has nothing to do with me,” you said.

“Really? So you didn’t take him back. Good girl.”

“And int he future, I’d appreciate it if we could keep our relationship strictly professional.” You walked away.

“Y/N!” You stopped and turned back slightly to give Peggy your attention. “Sometimes people do desperate things to get someone’s attention.” You shook your head and started walking again. “There are two sides to every story!”

~~~

You, Peter, and Scott arrived at lunch first. The three of you picked a large table farthest away from the others.

“Look what I went out and got,” Peter said, putting a grocery bag on the table.  Opening the bag, he revealed 13 headless Barbie dolls.

“Really, Quill?” You wondered.

“That’s gross,” Scott cringed.

“I think it’s funny,” Peter said, smiling, as he laid them out on the table.

“Of course you do,” you muttered.

“Oh! That is sick!” Clint commented as him, Natasha, and Val walked up.

“Who would do that?” Val asked. They looked to see Peter smiling.

“Oh, look!” Natasha said, picking up a doll. “See Barbie fly.” She throw it at Peter, who ducked.

“Hey, Clint,” Laura greeted, walking by.

“Hey,” he replied, sitting down at not looking at you. The interns all gave him a look. “What?”

“She was trying to make up with you, Clint,” you told him. “You should go eat with her.”

“No, I shouldn’t…. No.”

“She’s cute and she likes you,” Scott said.

“You shouldn’t let a little syph get in the way of that,” Val added.

“It’s not the syph,” Clint insisted.

“It’s so the syph,” Natasha said.

“It’s not the syph!”

“Then what is it?” Val asked. Clint didn’t answer, looking down. “Oh.”

“What?” You wondered. Clint simply shrugged. “What is it?”

“There’s this other girl,” Val responded.

“Val!” Clint exclaimed.

“Other girl?” Natasha questioned. “You have another girl?!”

“He hasn’t told her that he likes her yet,” Val said.

“Val!” Clint exclaimed again. “This isn’t high school.”

“Clint has a little crush.”

“I do not… It’s a thing, a very personal thing. One day I would like to build on this thing with this other girl—woman. She’s all woman.”

“What are you doing, Clint?” You asked, slightly harsh.

“I-I don’t—“

“With Laura. What are you doing with her?”

“Oh. Nothing.”

“You’re letting her think you’re emotionally available. You’re letting her think she has a chance. And there is nothing worse in the world than think you have a chance when you really don’t!”

“Y/N is right,” Natasha said. “Tell her that there’s someone else. And tell her why, Clint. I mean— I mean at least give her the chance to have some feelings about it!”

“Why are you both yelling at me?” Clint asked.

“Because of the estrogen Clint! Because of all the estrogen!”

~~~

“Was it an act of desperation?” You asked Mr. Sanders as you headed into his surgery.

“Not at all,” he replied.

“Something to attract attention?”

“No.”

“I’m just trying to understand here. Why 13 doll heads?”

“Well because 14 would’ve been too much.”

You cringed and helped the nurses get Mr. Sanders on the operating table before going to scrub. It was Gamora, you, Peter, Val, and Natasha in the surgery.

“I think it has something to do with his mother,” Val suggested. “Maybe she always wanted a girl and gave him Barbie dolls because of it.”

“Ah, ah, I’ve got another one,” Peter said, showing the head in the intestine.

“Uh!” You groaned.

“Doyen clamps to Romanoff,” Gamora ordered. “L/N, push the head up to the incision.” You began to squeeze the doll head up through the intestine.

“Maybe his mother looked like a Barbie doll and he’s into voodoo,” Peter suggested. “Instead of sticking pins in… well…”

Dr. Stark entered the OR. “You good here?” He asked Gamora, observing you though.

“Couple more heads to go,” Gamora responded.

“Then L/N stay here. All you other interns I need you on other cases.”

You met Tony’s eyes before he walked out of the OR.

~~~

Clint was put on a case with Steve. They were about to go separate ways so that Clint could run labs, when Steve stopped. He looked back at Clint.

“Is she okay?” Steve asked.

“Who?” Clint questioned. He looked up at Steve and knew. “Y/N? She’s… hanging in there.”

“Look out for her.”

“I will.”

Then Steve walked away. Before Clint could get really far, Laura found him.

“The family of the guy we worked on this morning is here,” she told him.

“Thanks for letting me know,” Clint responded.

“Clint, I just want an answers, so that I can get on with my life if I need to.”

“Look, maybe I’m not over the Peter thing yet or the syph thing… And I really want to be, but there’s also another girl. And, to me, it doesn’t matter there’s this other guy and frankly I wouldn’t care if she gave me the Ebola virus… I like you, Laura, I really do. Just… I—“

“You’re going to need some time.”

“Yeah.” He kissed her forehead. “Thank you for understanding.”

~~~

Steve was standing alone in the elevator when Peggy walked in, both dressed to leave.

“Just when the day was improving,” he murmured.

“You told Y/N what happened?” Peggy asked.

“I did. Why? What did you tell her?”

“That sometimes people do desperate things to attract attention.”

“What? Wow. That's your side of this? That I didn't pay you enough attention. Is that you were thinking when you got naked with my best friend?”

Peggy reached over and stopped the elevator. "No, by that point I wasn't thinking at all Steve. By that point I was just scratching an itch. We got successful you and me. We got busy and we got lazy. We didn't even bother to fight any more Steve. And Bucky was there and I missed you. And now I'm sorry.” Steve restarted the elevator. “I’m more sorry than you can possibly imagine. But at least I'm talking to you about it.” The doors opened and Steve walked out. “Steve.”

“I’m a sink with an open drain, honey.”

~~~

“Did you get them all?” Mr. Sanders asked. You were checking on him, post-surgery.

“Yes,” you replied. “It wasn’t easy or very pleasant. How do you feel?”

“Empty… I feel empty now.”

“Yeah. I've been feeling a little bit of that myself lately.”

“I can tell.”

“Mr. Sanders, why does eating doll heads fill you up? What’s the satisfaction?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“Would it be too much information?”

“Might.”

“Maybe I’m better left in the dark.”

next chapter >

I leave for Disney World in a week. It is the last big family vacation that I will be on for a while. Because of that, I will not be on tumblr March 19th through March 24th. I will actually be deleting the app so that it’s not a distraction.

Most likely, nothing will be posted during that time. If something is, it will have been queued up. Things that are posted while I’m out of town will not have tag lists attached. I will put this note in all the fic posts until then.

So do not come at me for spending time with my family instead of including the tag list. (I say that knowing that people won’t care and still come at me.... be respectful and get over yourself.)

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.