#we know they are cool with hitting doctors and torturing them

[yournewfriendshouse]

the times we’re in are really too interesting. I’m still reeling from the fact that Israel did a villain in a batman movie move of exploding pagers (the device I thought only doctors use anymore) within a civilian community and people were just like ‘yeah’

[arlana-likes-to-write]

A New Normal

Part 3 of Monet Issues and Reborn 

Summary: It’s been 2 months since the Avengers saved you from HYDRA and you are trying to learn to use these new ability you’ve been given and trying to put on a brave face for those around you. But when a nightmare wakes you up everything becomes to much. 

Warning: Nightmare, mention of past torture, injury, mention of a feeding tube. 

Word Count: 3.0k 

“We’ll call it there,” Wanda said. You fell to your back, staring up at the ceiling of the training room. The workout clothes you were wearing stuck to your skin from sweat. You heard footsteps walking over to you and Wanda sat down next to you handing you a water bottle. You took it, sat up, and downed it. The cool water provided temporary relief, you needed a shower. “You did well today. A few more sessions like this and you should be cleared to go home.” You smiled but you knew it didn’t reach your eyes. 

“Thanks, Wands,” you stood up stretching your muscles. “I’m gonna hit the showers if anyone is looking for me.” You didn’t wait for her to respond as you headed toward your room. 

As soon as the door shut behind you you released a breath you were holding. You shed off your workout clothes, set the shower to your desired temperature, and got it. The repetitive pounding of the water relaxed your muscles. You rested your head on the title and watched the water drip down the drain. Staying at the compound was your idea although the rest of the Avengers agreed. It’s been 2 months since HYDRA kidnapped you. On the outside, you were making insane progress. Your scars were healing and you were training to control your newfound ability. It was why you decided to stay. You couldn’t set a reporter on fire if they upset you with their question, that would be bad business. So you weren’t leaving until you had it under control.  

On the inside, you were struggling. Every time you closed your eyes you were strapped to that chair with the doctor’s hands on you. You felt an insane amount of guilt for telling them what factory the Avengers were interested in. They were constantly telling you it was alright. You didn’t believe them. 

You put your body on a towel and cleaned yourself. You were exhausted, right down to your bones. Your time was split between training, running your company, spending time with Natasha, and rebuilding your relationship with your father. “Miss. Stark,” the AI said. “Miss. Romanoff is asking if she could join you in the shower.” You sighed, looking up at the water as it fell down your face. 

“Tell Miss. Romanoff that I’ll meet her in the kitchen. She can make me lunch.” That was the other thing, you barely had a moment to yourself. The others were afraid that HYDRA was going to snatch you up. You turned the water off and wrapped a towel around you. You didn’t recognize the person in the mirror as you stared at your reflection. Dark bags were underneath your eyes from lack of sleep. You traced the scars from the IV and the injection that gave you powers. Your eyes. Now a red instead of your birth color. You looked down at your hands, flicking your wrist and a flame grew in the palm of your hand. It danced along your palm and up and down your fingers. 

“Miss. Stark, lunch is ready.” You put out the flame with a sigh. You just wanted it all to stop. 

*

Natasha set a plate of leftovers in front of you along with a glass of water. She kissed your cheek. “How was training, malyshka (baby girl)?” You cut up the steak. 

“Good, Wanda said I may be able to go back to the city soon,” you didn’t miss the flicker of worry in her eyes. “I can’t stay here forever.” You said. Natasha sighed, picking up a piece of steak from your plate and eating it. 

“I know I just worry,” you nodded, taking a sip of your water. She cupped your face in her hands. “You look exhausted,” She said. “Why don’t we call it an early night and watch a movie?” That did sound nice. 

“I can’t,” you said. “Well, maybe we can watch a movie after but it’s Wednesday Tony and I hang out.” It was an effort to rebuild your relationship. Tony set aside time on certain days of the week to hang out with you. A lot of the time was spent in his lab both working on individual projects but it was nice being in his presence. Your girl-no Natasha smiled. You weren’t sure what to label your relationship with the Black Widow. 

“I’m proud of you,” you were sure she was but sometimes it was hard to read Natasha. Since you were released from med bay, you both have been dancing around what she wanted to talk about. You had a feeling you knew what she wanted to say but you weren’t ready for that. 

“Thank you, sweetheart,” you said with a smile. 

*

“Kid, are you listening to me?” Tony asked. You were staring blankly at your laptop, trying to look over last month's numbers. The numbers and words were blurring together. Your eyes burned. 

“Mhm,” you said, looking at your father. He smiled. 

“I asked if you could look at these blueprints. I want your opinion on the new design,” you set your laptop down on the side table and stood up. Your shoulders cracked as you stretched and walked over to the table he was standing at. The blueprints were a modification of the Widow Bites Yelena and Natasha used. You knew Tony was talking but the words weren’t reaching you. You stared at the table, not understanding a thing. “Hey,” Tony said softly. The change in his tone broke through the fog. “Go to bed. You can barely stand.” 

“What? No. I’m fine. Just repeat what you said,” Tony smiled, shaking his head. 

“It’s not important. What is important is your health and I know the signs of sleep deprivation. Go to bed.” You sighed. 

“Are you sure?” You asked. He nodded. “Do you want to meet for breakfast in the morning?”

“Yeah, sounds like a plan,” you picked up your laptop. “Night kid.” He kissed you on the side of your head. 

“Night dad.” You said, leaving your lap and heading towards your room. When you got inside your room, you put your laptop down and climbed into bed. Sleep welcomed you in an instant. 

*

Natasha opened your door quietly. She smiled at the sight. You were curled up under the blankets with your arms underneath your pillow. On quiet feet, Natasha walked over to the bed and slid underneath the covers. Your eyes opened slightly. “Tash,” you mumbled. 

“Is this okay?” She asked. You nodded. 

“Hold me,” you turned on your side so Natasha’s front could be pressed against your back. The Black Widow put her arm under your head and her other arm around your waist, pulling you closer to her. You hummed happily. 

“Sleep,” Natasha whispered. It was moments like this that Natasha was going to miss when you returned to the city. You were safe in her arms. In her room or yours, it was your haven and away from the prying eyes of the team and your father. Natasha kissed your shoulder, where your sleep shirt was falling. She closed her eyes and allowed the steady beat of your heart to lure her to sleep. 

*

A soft whimper woke the Black Widow up. She slowly sat up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. You both shifted in your sleep. You were acing her, eyebrows pinched together, and frown on your face. You whimpered again and the sound broke Natasha’s heart. She knew nightmares were going to be part of your recovery process but this was the first time you allowed her to sleep with you besides small naps after training. “Malyshka (baby girl),” Natasha said. She didn’t want to touch you or startle you awake. “Wake up sweetheart. You're safe.” 

“No,” you mumbled. Eyes were still closed. 

“Yes, you’re safe. It’s just a nightmare. Come back to me.” Natasha felt the temperature of the room increase. She had to wake you up. “Y/n,” she said louder. You sat up with a gasp, a ball of fire formed in your hand and you grabbed onto Natasha’s arm. The Black Widow yelled in pain and clenched her arm to her chest. Her shout pulled you out of your nightmare-induced fog. 

“Natasha I-” your eyes were glued to her burned skin. You scrambled off the bed and pressed your back against the wall. 

“It’s fine,” Natasha winched. “You didn’t mean to.” She saw the panic and guilt running through your eyes. Your door swung open and Tony and Yelena came rushing into your room, armed with weapons. Yelena lowered her Widow Bite and rushed to Natasha’s side. 

“What did you do?” She asked. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to,” you were gasping for air. Tony walked over to Natasha and used his gauntlet to spray a cooling spray on the burn. The commotion woke up the others. 

“I’m fine,” Natasha said. “It was an accident.” She looked at you but your eyes were darting around the room. 

*

You needed to get out of here. The sleep shirt was sticking to your skin. The temperature of the room was increasing. “Squirt,” Tony said, taking a few hesitant steps toward you. “I need you to breathe for me.” 

“Stay away from me,” you said. 

“Okay,” he stopped, walking. “But I still need you to breathe.” You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to focus on calming down the organ that was pounding in your chest. When you reopened your eyes, you were back in that cell. Your arms were locked down by metal cuffs and the doctor was standing in front of you with a syringe in her hands. 

“No!” You yelled. “No! Get away from me!” You punched a fireball forward. You heard screams but you jumped to your feet and pushed past the guards. You ran. You ran and ran until your bare feet hit the grass. You slipped slightly on the dew but continued until you fit the woods. A fallen tree branch snagged your foot and set you tumbling to the ground. You groaned as your back hit a tree. But you didn’t bother to stand. You curled yourself up into a fetal position and squeezed your eyes shut. Natasha’s scream echoed in your ears. Yelena’s look of disgust and anger danced behind your eyes. It was becoming too much. You screamed. You screamed until your throat went raw and you felt the flames of your powers but you didn’t care. It was good to feel anything else besides fear. 

*

Tony acted quickly to put out the fire that spread on your bedsheets. “Yelena, I’m fine.” Natasha pushed her sister away from her. 

“She burned you!”

“And it was an accident,” she said. Tony knew Natasha was going to have to see Helen and surgery may be needed to fix the skin on her arm. 

“We need to find her,” Wanda said. The billionaire wasn’t sure when the witch showed up. “Her powers are connected to her emotions. She’s unstable and she could hurt herself or someone else.” 

“Boss,” FRIDAY said before Tony could ask the AI to find you. “There is a fire on the west side of the woods and it’s spreading.” 

“Avengers,” Steve ordered. “Suit up.”

*

You woke up in med bay. The last thing you remembered was your father walking through the flames you created in his Iron Man suit and picking you up. “Squirt,” Tony whispered. You rolled onto your side and ignored him. “Come on kid. No one is upset with you.” You still didn’t answer him. “You don’t have to talk now but we are here for you. I’m here for you.”

It didn’t matter who entered your room. Natasha came to talk to you with her arm wrapped. Yelena tried to apologize and Wanda said that these things happened, but you didn’t talk to anyone. You didn’t even eat when they brought you food. Helen did threaten to put a feeding tube down your throat if you didn’t eat something, so you drank a protein shake. You were just so tired. 

“Egghead,” you looked at the door and saw Taylor standing there. You’ve spent the past 3 days in med bay since your nightmare. “Are you done throwing yourself a pity party?” You rolled your eyes and lay down. “Oh no. You aren’t giving your best friend the silent treatment.” She sat in the chair next to you. “Come on, talk to me.” You slowly turned to face her, eyes burning with unshed tears. Not many people knew how you changed; Emily and Taylor were told as soon as you got back. The media were told that you were staying at the compound to recover. “Awe buddy,” she said. “It’s okay to cry.” You did. The dam snapped and you choked on a sob. Taylor ran her hand over your hair and whipped the tears. You grabbed onto her hand and held it like a lifeline. 

“Why did this happen to me?” You asked. She sighed. 

“I don’t know bud. Maybe the universe thought you were the strongest one to handle it.” Taylor squeezed her hand.     

“I don’t want to be strong,” you whispered. “I wish this didn’t happen to me and everything went back to normal.” She stood up and laid down on the bed next to you, bringing you into her arms. You let a few more tears fall on her shirt. “I didn’t mean to hurt her,” you finally said. You didn’t even remember the nightmare that woke you up but you remember her screams. 

“I know,” Taylor said. “It was an accident.” 

“What if I hurt more people?” You asked. Taylor didn’t say anything right away. She ran her hand up and down her back. 

“You won’t well you may be not intentionally,” she shifted on the bed and forced you to sit up. You crossed your legs to give her more room. She took your hands and put them in front of you, your palms facing up. She traced the lines on your hands. You were a bad person. Bad people hurt people. “You aren’t a bad person or a monster,” she whispered. It was like she knew what you were thinking. “There are many differences between you and the people who kidnapped you but one thing is that they hurt you with a purpose, with horrible intent to hurt you and those who love you.” She placed her hands on top of yours so her palms were on yours. “Because of them, you were given this new ability. You are still learning to live with it. So if you burn us or set us on fire,” she smiled. “We won’t blame you but those who hurt you.” You sniffled, whipping your eyes. 

“I should have you do the speeches for our next gala,” you smiled. “That was good.” Taylor rolled her eyes and punched your shoulder. You laughed. It felt so good to laugh. “I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too,” she said. “Now they’ve said you haven’t eaten. What do you want?” You bite your thumb as you thought. 

“A burger and a milkshake,” Taylor smiled. 

“Sit tight and I’ll go get it,” she got out of bed and stretched. “Your father is one the richest men in the world, why is this bed so uncomfortable?” You laughed, shaking your head. 

“Thank you, Tay.”

“No problem. I can’t have you spiral down into a depressive episode for too long. I don’t want to run this company by myself.” 

Once you ate the food Taylor brought you, you felt much better. She convinced you to get out of bed and go talk to everyone. You made your rounds, accepting Yelena’s apology and seeing your father in his lab. FRIDAY told you that Natasha was sitting by the pound on the compound’s property. On quiet feet, you walked up to her (ignoring the trees you destroyed) and watched her. She was sewing a ribbon on a new pair of pointe shoes. You knew she was lost in her thoughts because she didn’t know you were there. “Hi,” you finally said. She spun around to look at you. “Mind if I join you?”

“Of course,” you sat down next to her. Her arm was still wrapped. Tony told you she had a small surgery to repair the skin on her arm. With careful hands, you traced the bandage. “I don’t blame,” she said. “It wasn’t your fault.”  

“I know,” you whispered. “But I am sorry.” Natasha kissed the top of your head. “Are we okay?”

“Yeah, malyshka (baby girl),” she made a few more stitches on her shoes then looked at you. “Our relationship didn’t start the conventional way and at the beginning, it was just sex,” you felt your anxiety spike. She grabbed your hand and interlocked her fingers with yours. “But rather quickly you became someone I cared about. I craved spending time with you, not just on a physical level.” Natasha faced you. You stared into her green eyes, a color you missed. “I love you. I have for a long time but never knew how to tell you.” The woman in front of you once believed that love was for children, a weakness but now she just confessed that she loved you. “It’s okay if-” you cut her off with a kiss. You put your hands on her face and moved to her neck, pulling her closer to you. You kissed her until the need for air became apparent and Natasha ended the kiss. She rested her forehead against yours. 

“I love you too, Natasha Romanoff,” you said. You moved your hands down her arms, careful of her surgical spot. “I hate that this happened to me. That they used me to hurt you and my dad.” You sat back slightly so you could look at her. “Taylor said that maybe this happened because the universe knew I was strong enough to overcome it. I don’t think that’s true.” 

“Sweetheart..”

“Sh, let me finish,” you smiled. “I think I’ll overcome this because the people next to me make me strong. They love me, support me, and stay by my side even when I burn them,” Natasha chuckled. 

“You will always impress me, moya lyubov' (my love),” you smiled, grabbing Natasha’s hands and kissing them. “You’ll get through this.” 

“Of course, I will,” you said. “I have you.”  

_

Taglist: @ maria-403 @ tye-dyemango @ mymommawanda @ animealways

wifeofnatasharomanoff

This will probably be the last part unless you guys have more ideas for this AU. Just let me know!

[nopainnowhump]

Cracks in the Glass Pt. 3

(TW): This story contains themes of physical and emotional trauma, medical experimentation, electric shocks, blood, panic attacks, confinement, aggression, violence, and mentions of past abuse and torture.

"I said, don’t let it fall!" A shock courses through me, and my head lolls in exhaustion. Hot blood leaks from my nose as my vision swims. I know how he is—never satisfied with the experiments—and I just happen to be in his line of fire today.

A rough hand grabs my chin, yanking my face up to his eye level. “If you keep this half-assed bullshit up, I’ll hand you over to security. And we both know just how much fun they like to have with you.” He releases my chin, and I force my head up, struggling to hold it steady.

“Now hold.”

I lift the 50-pound weight as instructed, but only for a few seconds before the darkness closes in. It crashes to the floor with a loud thud, and the next shock finishes me off.

“AGHHHH!”

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

I jerk awake with a sharp breath. A thin layer of sweat clings to my skin, and my breathing is rapid. It takes a moment before I realize I’m not in my cell—at least, not the usual one. Where am I?

I glance around the room. It’s barren, save for the bed I’m in and an open door leading to a bathroom. The most glaring feature is the wall replaced by a large window stretching from floor to ceiling, looking out into the hallway. I pull the blanket off me and immediately notice something else: everything is different.

I’m in clean clothes—new ones. All of my ports are gone.

Panic hits me as my hand flies to my neck. The collar is gone. I suck in a sharp breath, struggling to process what’s happening. What…what’s going on? My eyes lock on the door handle, and I rush to it. I’m getting out of here—wherever here is.

I twist the handle, but it’s locked. I pull harder, my frustration boiling over into a scream. My pounding fists echo down the hallway. “AGHHHHH!” My voice cracks from exertion as I slam my fists into the door, over and over.

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

I watch her on the camera, banging on the door. Shit. I take a deep breath and lean back in my chair. I’ve dealt with a lot of kids who’ve come through here—most of them difficult—but this one…

While waiting for her to wake, I read through her file: A-13, age 14. Parents: unknown. It doesn’t tell me much. I take a sip of coffee and leave the quiet of my office.

The second I step into the ward, the screaming is deafening. As I make my way toward the cell, a soft voice calls from behind me. “Hey! Are you the handler for room five?”

I turn to see a young woman in bright pink scrubs.

“Yes, I am. Sorry, I don’t know your name.”

“Oh, right. I’m Anna, the nurse for that room. I just wanted to let you know she’s awake. As you can hear.” She tucks her hair behind her ear and shifts awkwardly on her feet.

“Yeah, I noticed. I’m headed that way now.”

“Sounds good. I’ll be at the nurse’s station if you need anything. And your name?”

“Thomas.”

“Cool…um, see you around.” She scurries off, and I head toward the screaming. I stop in front of the glass, observing the girl inside.

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

I break from pounding on the door to glare at the strange man standing on the other side of the glass. He’s wearing a nice shirt and pants, looking middle-aged and calm. His expression gives nothing away as he takes in my angry form. He’s not wearing a lab coat or scrubs, so I know he’s not a doctor. Not that I care. I don’t want to be here. I need to get out.

I slam my fists against the glass and let out another scream. “AGHHHHH!”

“Hey, hey,” he says, holding his hands up placidly. “You’re okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

The words float past me, meaningless. My screaming and pounding continue.

“Listen,” he says, voice steady. “I want to talk to you. It’s important that you hear me, okay?”

I ignore him. I don’t care. Sinking to the floor, I let the tears stream down my face, my breaths coming in shallow gasps.

“That’s okay,” he says softly. I look up to see him sitting on the floor across the glass, leaning against the wall. “I’m just going to hang out here for a bit, if that’s okay with you.”

I don’t respond, thrashing on the ground in anger until exhaustion claims me.

What feels like hours later, I’m spent. I didn’t have much energy to begin with, and now I’m sprawled on the cool concrete floor, a sniffling mess. The man hasn’t moved, quietly waiting for me to stop.

When I meet his gaze, he speaks again. “Ready?”

His voice isn’t irritated or insincere. There’s an empathy in his tone I’ve never encountered before. I sit up slowly, wiping the tears from my face.

“First off, my name is Thomas, and I’ll be in charge of your recovery while you’re here. Has anyone talked to you yet about where you are?”

I stay silent.

“That’s okay,” he says. “I’d be upset too if I woke up in a strange place with strange people. A few nights ago, you were rescued from the facility you were living in. This place is a rehabilitation center for people who come from situations like yours.”

I shift uncomfortably.

“For the last two decades, there’s been an epidemic—labs using infants for human experiments, creating weapons out of them. You were one of those infants.”

I pretend I don’t care, but I do. The pain, the torture—it had to mean something.

“A few nights ago, a rescue team infiltrated your facility and brought you and two others here,” Thomas continues. “No one here is going to hurt you. You don’t deserve to live like that. No child, no person, should ever experience what you have. I’m here to work with you so that, eventually, you can join the general population.”

He pauses, gauging my reaction.

“One thing you’ll learn about this place—we do not tolerate physical violence toward staff or yourself. We don’t use collars because they’re barbaric, but actions have consequences. Safety is the top priority here, and that includes yours.”

He moves closer to the glass. “Can you look at me, please?”

I turn away.

He sighs. “Okay. I’ll leave you alone, but I’ll be back later.”

No. He can’t leave me here. As he stands, so do I, adrenaline surging. “AGHHHH!” I slam my fists against the glass. Don’t leave me!

He gives me an empathetic look before walking away. I sink to my knees in an exhausted sob, the reality of my situation crushing me.

I collapse onto the floor, tears soaking the concrete, and fall into an uneasy sleep.

OMG, I’m having so much fun writing this! I promise the next part will have more caretaking and emotional moments. For now, I’m heading to bed—stay tuned!

Pt.4

[pangborns]

CASUALTIES.

Mr. Orange x fem!reader

The accusations quickly lead to fatal injuries.

Blood, death, violence, weapons, etc.

to the ppl that liked my post :D - @bshutsky @bloodandglittertastessobitter @manunitedfan1 @vapidluxury

You held a tight grip on Orange’s bloody hand as Mr. Blonde continued to torture the hostage.

“Please! Just leave him alone.” You pleaded, voice cracking and vision blurry. The man ignored you as he turned the radio up and quickly advanced on the bound cop.

The sound of your scream along with the cries from the hostage still did nothing to rouse Orange’s unconscious figure.

Mr. Blonde was now atop the man, bringing the knife up to his face. You tightened your grip on Orange, burying your face into his shoulder as you held him. Blood smeared over your face, but that was the least of your worries as you imagined all that Blonde would do to the man.

The sound of Mr. Blonde’s circling footsteps had you lifting your head. The psycho held an ear, he waved it in front of the cop’s face teasingly as you quickly pushed yourself to your feet.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” You screeched, getting in between the hostage and Blonde. Your face was drenched, air hard to grasp as you panted.

Blonde clicked his tongue, “Aren’t you supposed to be a professional, sweetheart?”

You recoiled, “I never agreed to participating in a hostage situation. As if we weren’t fucked before, you had to go and dig us a deeper hole.” You sputtered, anger replacing the fear.

Blonde scrunched his nose with a small chuckle. “Watch your mouth, sweetheart. You’ll be next.”

With a shudder, you watched as he made his way out of the warehouse with car keys in hand. You wasted no time in crouching in front of the police officer. You lightly tapped at his cheeks after noticing he was starting to lose consciousness.

The man groaned, struggling a bit as he remembered where he was. “No, shh, it’s alright! I’m not going to hurt you.” You hurriedly muttered, glancing behind you to be sure Blonde wasn’t on his way back in.

You started ripping the duct tape from the man’s ankles, cringing each time he would groan particularly loud. “Please, we have to be quiet.”

His muffled voice grew louder and more frantic. “I know, I know. I’m hurryi-“

A click.

The cool metal of a pistol rested against the back of your head. “Stand up, Red.”

You dropped the wad of duct tape, keeping your hands up as you slowly raised yourself to a stance. Blonde grabbed your forearm, forcefully turning you around.

Now, facing the weapon, the fear returned. Your lower lip trembled as you fought to keep tears at bay. “I don’t know what you want me to say.” You spoke softly.

“No need.” Blonde nodded, taking a step back and readying the gun against your forehead. You tightened your eyelids closed, preparing for the blow.

Four gunshots were heard, but none of them hit you. Peaking your eyes open, you could see Blonde on the other side of the room, bleeding out.

You released the breath you were holding, a cry escaping your shaky lips. Turning to your right, you watched as Orange’s gun fell to the floor with a clang.

He clutched at his stomach, whimpering in pain as his head hit the ground once again. You slid down to his side, laying him across your lap.

“He didn’t hurt you. Did he?” He gasped, struggling to find his voice through the fog of pain.

You quickly shook your head. “No, I’m okay. You saved me.”

The cries from the other side of the room quickly faded as Mr. Blond stopped breathing. You cringed, grabbing a fist of Orange’s suit. “Nobody was supposed to get hurt.”

Mr. Orange’s face fell a bit. “I shot a woman today.” His face was pinched, both in pain and regret. “I’ve never done that before.” You brushed his hair from his eyes, humming a sad sigh.

The doors to the warehouse slammed open as Mr. Pink, Mr. White, Eddie, and Mr. Cabot walked in. A doctor quickly followed behind, pausing beside Blonde’s body.

“What the fuck happened here?” Eddie cursed, running over to Mr. Blonde.

“Blonde went crazy. Slashed the cop’s face and cut off his ear.” You started, shaky breaths escaping you as you watched Eddie’s fury grow.

“Who the fuck cares what he was going to do to this fucking pig!?” Eddie turned toward the bound man, shooting him three times in the chest.

You yelped, tears forming once again in your eyes. “Oh my god, oh my god..” You hyperventilated, gripping Orange’s hand even tighter.

“He tried to off Red. Aimed a gun at her head and everything.” Mr. Orange spoke up, blood dripping from his lips.

“You were saying he went crazy? Something like that? Worse or better?” Eddie raised his voice, clearly frustrated.

“Look, Eddie, he was pulling a burn. He was gonna kill the cop, Red, and me. And when you guys walked through the door, he was gonna blow you to hell and make off with the diamonds.” Orange’s face pinched as speaking only caused the pain to grow.

“Uhuh, uhuh, what'd I tell ya? That sick piece of shit was a stone cold psycho.” Mr. White finally spoke.

“You could've asked the cop, if you didn't just kill him. He talked about what he was going to do when he was slicing him up.”

“It’s true! He said I was next.” You defended the man, flinching as Eddie stepped closer.

“I don't buy it. It doesn't make sense.”

“It makes perfect fuckin sense to me. Eddie, you didn't see how he acted during the job, we did.” Mr. White continued, getting cut off by Eddie once again.

Eddie then explained to the group as to why Mr. Blonde would never pull a fast one on him and his father. That left the room silenced.

“I know what’s going on.” Joe finally said something, stepping up. “This piece of shit is working with the cops.”

Mr. Cabot aimed his gun at Mr. Orange. “- and I bet the girl is in on it too.” Eddie’s gun was quick to raise and aim at you.

Mr. Orange gripped your arms tighter, trying to pull himself up to make a shield. You shook, looking down the barrel of a gun for the second time in the last hour.

“Woah, woah..” Mr. White slid himself between the two of you and the Cabots. “Joe, I don’t know what you think you know, but you’re wrong.”

“Like hell I am!” Mr. Cabot retorted, shaking the gun in your direction.

Your eyes grew wide as the men continued to argue over your lives. Eyes traveling to Orange’s figure, you watched as his gaze was already on you. His face was still pinched in pain, but he sent you a hopeful smile. The voices of the men quickly faded as you watched Mr. Orange.

“It’s not me, I promise.” You spoke silently to him.

The muscles in his face settled, “I know, honey.” He brought his hand to your cheek, comforting you as his blood transferred onto your skin.

“C’mon guys!” Mr. Pink’s voice snapped the two of you out it. “Nobody wants this. We’re supposed to be fucking professionals!”

“Larry, we’re going to kill them.” Joe spoke surely, taking the safety off of his gun.

“Goddamn you, Joe! Don’t make me do this.” Mr. White pleaded, finger shaky on the trigger.

“Larry, I’m asking you to trust me on this.”

“Don’t ask me that.”

“I’m not asking, I’m betting.” Joe raised his gun once again, shooting three times in your direction. All three bullets hit Orange as you screamed.

Eddie was next, as Mr. White was taking care of Joe, Eddie readied his gun and fired four bullets into your gut before turning the gun on Mr. White. The two shot each other at the same time, ending with all three men dead.

You yelped, falling to the ground. Harsh groans escaping your now bloodied lips. With shaking hands, you struggled to see the wounds through the blood.

You could barely make out the sound of Mr. Pink grabbing the briefcase and making a run for it. Struggling to catch your breath, you wheezed in pain.

“Red,” Mr. Orange croaked, turning to you. He struggled to grab your hand, shushing you as you panicked. “It’s okay.”

“He- He shot me!” You sobbed, voice wavering. “Why did he shoot me?”

“I’m a cop.”

Your ears stopped ringing in that very moment. All the air in your lungs escaped. “What?”

“It was me,” He wheezed. “It was a set up.”

A broken sob escaped your bloodied lips at the confession. “I’m going to die, aren’t I?” You lurched forward as he applied pressure to your stomach.

He broke, now wracking with sobs. “No, no of course not. They’re on their way. You just gotta hold on a bit longer.” Now ignoring his wounds, he made note of the way your reaction time slowed each time he pushed down on a particular painful spot.

Your breathing grew shallow and your face paled, head lolling to the side.

“Nobody was supposed to get hurt.” He repeated as you fell from consciousness.

[thevegandarkelf]

Finding Myself, Finding You: Chapter Ten

Masterlist

AO3 link

Story is 18+ for mature content/themes, minors do not interact please

TW/CWs for this story--implied/referenced past rape, canonical violence, non-canonical violence, blood, gore, referenced past suicide, swearing, surgery, excessive drinking, nightmares, panic attacks, mention of scars, vomiting, amputation, medical procedures, non-con medical procedures, referenced past medical torture, referenced past drugging, attempted sexual assault, panic attacks, mental health struggles, referenced sibling death, referenced parent death

Each chapter will have its own TW/CWs listed

This story, Lydia Vector, her family & bestie (c) me, TheVeganDarkElf

TWD & its characters (c) AMC & Robert Kirkman, the writer of the comic series

Sleeping Beauty (c) Disney, Wednesday Addams (c) Charles Addams

TW/CWs for this chapter--swearing, allusion to past trauma, medical stuff (kinda?), smoking (Daryl)

Word count: 3.1k

We spent the next couple of hours in the living room talking. It was mostly Daryl asking me about myself and my life prior to coming to Alexandria, but I enjoyed it nonetheless, and I was flattered that he seemed to take such an interest. I told him about all the things I’d seen in the ER and goofy stories from medical school. I did get a few stories out of him after some prodding and saying that I was getting tired of hearing myself talk.

"What made ya wanna be a doctor?" he asked. I covered my mouth and yawned. As much as I loved talking with him, I was starting to get very tired.

“It’s kind of a silly story, to be honest,” I explained, looking down at my thumbs and twirling them back and forth over each other, “when I was a little girl, I wanted to be a princess when I grew up, because what little girl doesn’t want that? I thought they were so cool, so pretty. And they helped their people. That's what I wanted to do. I knew from a young age that I wanted to help people. When my oldest brother Preston was eight, he was in a really bad accident. Got hit by a car on his bike.”

I bit the inside of my bottom lip again, suppressing the memories of my frightened mother throwing her three small children in the car, not knowing if her oldest was still going to be alive by the time we caught up to him. “When we got to the hospital, my mom talked to one of the surgeons, and three-year-old me thought she was the most beautiful lady I'd ever seen. I remember she was wearing a floral dress under her white coat. I didn't understand at the time what exactly she was doing. All I knew was she was the lady who was making my brother feel better. I asked if she was a princess, and being that I was only three, she entertained me and told me yes."

A felt a small smile start to tug at the corners of my mouth. “So I told my mom that that's the kind of princess I wanted to be when I grew up. As I got older, of course, I learned what a doctor was, but I still had what I wanted to be set in stone. I wanted to help people the way that she helped my brother." I looked up at Daryl. He had uncrossed his legs and had them apart, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped, looking at me like with that same stoic look on his face. But there was something else there, a subtle glimmer in his eye, like I’d been telling him the most interesting story in the world and he was listening as intently as he could. My small smile turned into a little bit of a bigger one. “I told you it was silly.”

He shook his head. “Nah, not silly. S’cute.” He blinked a few times and shook his head a little, like he didn’t know what had gotten into him when he said that and was coming back to reality. "Ya best get to sleep. Look tired as all hell.” I yawned in response. Just hearing the word “tired” was enough to remind my body of how exhausted I was.

“I guess you’re right,” I said. I swung my legs off the couch and wrapped the blanket around myself again, rising to my feet. “What about you? I’m sure you’re exhausted. And you get to finally sleep on a mattress again.” He got up out of the chair to grab the whiskey he left in the kitchen hours ago.

“Late to sleep, early to rise, that’s how I roll,” he said, grabbing his drink off the counter and swirling it lightly. I followed him over to where he was standing.

“This was nice, Daryl. We should do it again sometime. If you’re down to, I mean,” I told him, beginning to step over towards the stairs before stopping again and turning to him.

I don’t know what came over me. Maybe it was the desire for human touch, or the desire to hold him and be held by him, but whatever it was was powerful. I reached my arms around his torso to give him a hug. I was only there for a second, barely touching him before I pulled back. He hardly had any time to react. “Oh God, I’m sorry. I should’ve asked first. Oh I’m so tired. That’s no excuse. I’m so sorry.” I thought I heard a soft, almost inaudible chuckle come from him.

“’S’alright.”

“I won’t do it again without asking, I promise,” I said, looking up to meet his beautiful blue irises, “and thank you again for the dress. I can’t wait to wear it.” I turned and started making my way up the stairs. “Goodnight Daryl. See you in the morning.”

“See ya when ya fall outta bed,” he called up after me. I rolled my eyes.

“Goodnight Daryl,” I repeated, more stern this time.

I collapsed back on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. My head was spinning. I expected Daryl to hardly say a word to me when he got back, and not only did we have a conversation, but it lasted for hours. Did he pity me, as the new kid? He had to have been enjoying himself, right? If he didn’t, he probably wouldn’t have stayed for as long as he did. He didn’t seem like the type to continue doing something he wasn’t interested in to be “respectful” or whatever. Maggie had said that Daryl doesn’t ask “get to know you” questions to anyone. I guess that made me special.

What kind of special exactly, I wasn’t sure.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I decided to check on Aaron before I got on with the rest of my tasks for the day. I hadn’t gone to see him in about a week, and I needed to make sure he didn’t still need painkillers or antibiotics and had run out. Since Eric hadn’t come looking for me for more, I figured he was probably set on both. I felt bad that he was stuck up in that room all day. I could only hope that he had plenty of things to keep him occupied. And in the next few weeks, I was going to have to figure out how to get him a prosthetic.

“How’s he doing?” I asked as Eric let me in the front door, “I’m sorry I didn’t come by more. I figured since I left everything he’d need, he’d be good for a while. And of course that you’d come get me if you needed anything.”

“He’s been doing well. He’s been needing the pain meds less and less, and we’ve been changing the dressing once a day like you said. Sometimes twice because I’m paranoid,” Eric said, “and I’ve been helping him move around a bit upstairs like you said, to help get at least some movement in.” I nodded in approval.

“Sorry to come by so early. Is he asleep? I can come back later. It’s just been a while, so I wanted to make checking on him my first priority.” Eric shook his head as he walked me to the stairs.

“He might still be asleep, but it’s ok. He won’t mind. I try to spend as much time up there as I can so he doesn’t get lonely, but I think he’d enjoy having another person to socialize with too,” he explained, “I’ll leave you to it. Let me know if there’s anything you need. And thank you again Vector. For everything you’ve done for Aaron. I hate what happened to him, but I’m glad you were there.”

“You’re sweet, Eric. I appreciate that. I’m glad I was there too,” I replied, giving him the biggest, no-teeth smile I could before going upstairs.

I knocked gently on their bedroom door before letting myself in. Aaron looked like he was still asleep, so I stepped quietly over to the side of the bed and set my bag down.

“Aaron,” I whispered, lowering myself to the ground slowly so as not to startle him, “it’s Vector. I’m here for a check-in.” He stirred a little before opening his eyes and meeting my gaze.

“Mornin’ Doc,” he yawned.

“Hey, sorry to wake you. I hadn’t been by in a while, so I wanted to make sure I came here first thing today. How are you feeling?”

He pushed himself back with his hands until he was sat up against the headboard. “About as good as I can given the circumstances.”

“I’m gonna take a look at it, make sure it’s healing properly.” I slipped a pair of gloves on while he pulled the leg of his pants up to expose his leg.

“I think it looks ok. I’m sure it’s healing just fine. I’ve got the best surgeon east of the Mississippi,” Aaron said, cheerfully despite the sleep lingering in his voice.

“So what I’m hearing is there’s one to the west that’s better?” I teased, getting a laugh out of him. I peeled off the gauze and padding and set them down on the floor beside me.

“How are things with you and Daryl?” he asked, an enthusiastic smile spread across his face. Of course, when I decided that I would be stopping by this morning, I knew Aaron would have questions. I could feel myself starting to blush.

“Ok, I’m only giving you details because you seem to be one of the few people around here who can keep their mouth shut. I went to Michonne and Rick’s the other night and drank with her, Rosita, and Maggie, and when Rick and Glenn came back later, Maggie all but outright told them that I like Daryl. This is a HIPAA compliant conversation, you got it?”

“Understood.”

I told Aaron all about what I told the others, even told him about what Carol said regarding Daryl having talked to her about me, and our hours-long conversation the night before. Being the good friend and confidant that he was, he was happy for me and promised to keep everything I said under lock and key. I allowed myself to get a little giddy when talking about Daryl, like when I would be telling stories and he would look at me like it was the most interesting thing he’d ever heard, even if it was something I deemed as boring. Or how beautiful his eyes were and how I wanted to get lost in them and never find my way out. Glenn was right—it was a little schoolgirl crush.

My other duties for the day included seeing some patients and helping Maggie catch up on a literal metric ton of laundry. Daryl had daytime watch that day, so he was up and out before I was awake. He did, however, leave a mug of coffee out for me on the kitchen counter. It was such a tiny thing, but it was sweet and made my morning nonetheless.

As I loaded some clothes into one of the washing machines, Carol’s words echoed inside my head. Daryl’s…a bit skittish with…this kind of thing. Nervous, uncertain. I’ll leave it at that. Just be patient with him. Was that her subtle way of letting me know that Daryl was interested in me? What was “this kind of thing?” She very well could’ve been talking about friendship, but given how surprised everyone is when I tell them about something nice Daryl did for me and how “he never does things like that,” I figured she had to be talking about romance. But there was still so much he didn’t know about me. Things that I knew he wouldn’t like if he were to find out about them. Things that would change his view of me, I was sure.

Even if he was interested in Vector, he certainly wouldn't be interested in Lydia.

I brushed some hair out of my face as I flipped open my notebook. Maggie and I finished laundry a little while ago, and being that I was done seeing patients as well, I wanted to take some time to sit outside and enjoy the fresh air. I had hardly taken a moment to just sit and take in everything around me since I arrived in Alexandria. I was so excited to have found the place I’d been searching months for, to be around such good people and have some semblance of normalcy again, that I didn’t take time to sit and just be. I think I was afraid to, as sitting and just letting myself feel whatever I needed would certainly bring up some uncomfortable emotions. But I suppose that’s what my notebook was for. It carried the pain that was too much for me to handle.

As I leaned over my notebook, my hair cascaded around me like a set of dark curtains, blocking out my peripheral vision, and my bangs blocked part of my front view. I heard a familiar set of heavy footsteps making their way across the dirt path that lined the row of houses. Before I could lift my head to say hi, those footsteps were walking in front of me across the porch and stopping to my left.

“‘Sup Vec?” Daryl said as he slid down the front of the house and took a seat a few feet from me. Vec? That was the first time he’d called me that. I wasn’t opposed to him having a nickname for me, though. I thought it was cute. I lifted my head and swept my hair out of the way. He was sat back against the house, his legs propped up in front of him, resting his arms on his knees. It took everything in me to not scoot over to him, grab his arm, and rest my head on his shoulder.

“Hi Daryl,” I replied, closing my notebook in my lap and smiling at him, “how was your day?” I was disappointed to see him reach into his pocket and pull out a box of cigarettes and a lighter. I hadn’t seen him smoke before, so I imagine it wasn’t something he did too often. Cigarettes were probably not that easy to come by in the apocalypse. It was a gross habit regardless, and I did my best not to make a disgusted face as he put one in his mouth and lit it. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to say anything. “Lighting up in front of the doctor. That’s brave. Careful with that, you’ll start a fire.”

“Day was borin’ as hell. Didn’t see a damn thing up there. Guess that’s good though.” He took a puff of his cigarette and turned his head to blow the smoke in the opposite direction of me. When he turned back, he gestured to my notebook. “What’s that?”

“Oh, umm, it’s not important.”

“Seems important since ya always got it on ya,” he said, taking another puff of his cigarette. I twirled my pen in my fingers, trying to figure out how to explain what this little bound stack of papers meant to me.

“I, uh, started writing back in med school, when Preston and then my mom passed away, as a way to cope. It was something my therapist at the time suggested. I’ve filled probably a dozen notebooks over the years. This is the only one I brought with me when I went on the road.” I took a deep breath. “Sorry, I know that’s heavy.”

“Nah, don’t worry ‘bout it. Sorry ‘bout your family.” I gave him a small smile.

“Thanks. Preston was killed in combat. At least he died doing what he loved. I suppose that’s one of the better ways to go out, right?”

He took another puff of his smoke. “’S’pose so.” There was a few beats of silence before he spoke again. “How was your day?”

I was surprised but flattered at the reciprocation of my earlier question. I brushed my side bangs out of my face and twirled a chunk of hair around my index finger, another anxious habit I had. “It was good. I went and checked on Aaron this morning, tended to some injuries, and helped with laundry. Hadn’t done laundry in so long, I forgot how much of a bitch it was.”

“How’s Aaron?” Daryl asked.

“Given the circumstances, he’s as good as he can be. I’m going to have to start thinking about how to get him a prosthetic for when his leg heals.”

“We can go tomorrow. Rick wanted us to go on a run since it’s been a while. There’s a medical center nearby. They’d have some, right?” I cocked my eyebrow at him.

“Us? Again? I thought he didn’t want me going out much. And they might, depending on the kind of medical center.” I certainly wasn’t opposed to going out on a long run with Daryl. The idea was exciting, rather pleasing to be honest.

“Like ya said, good luck charm or somethin’.” I felt the butterflies in my stomach awakening. Him remembering a little joke I made back during our first run…I was swooning hard.

“Are you sure? He won’t need it for a few weeks still. We’ve got time,” I said. He flicked the ashes off the end of his cigarette and stomped them out with his boot. Somehow, he made something as gross as smoking look so attractive. I was kicking myself. You’re a doctor, Vector, what’s wrong with you?

“Might as well have it when the time comes.”

“I guess that’s true. Better than trying to scramble to find one when he needs it.” I looked down at my feet and wiggled my toes in my boots. While I loved being around and talking with him, he also made me nervous. I tried to focus on wiggling my toes to keep myself from turning red.

“Have ya eaten today?” Daryl asked me, dropping the butt of his cigarette on the ground and stomping it out. I turned my head and gave him an “oh really” face, giggling a little in amusement.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that? You’ve been up in that watchtower literally all day,” I said, scooting myself backward a little to give myself leverage to stand up, “come on, I’ll make food.”

“Nah, I can, ya always do it,” he insisted, also bringing himself to his feet.

“I really don’t mind, honestly. I like doing it.” I decided to use this as an opportunity to be a little bit flirtatious. “Plus, your compliments of my cooking do feed my ego a little bit. You’ll have to be careful with that, I might start to get cocky.”

[vickyvicarious]

Jonathan sensing Dracula's presence in the room before he sees him is doubly interesting in light of the fact that that awareness is wholly one-sided. Post castle, Dracula reacts so little to Jonathan's presence that I'm starting to wonder how able he is to perceive him at all, especially given how obsessively intimate they are in these opening chapters

(in reference to this conversation)

That's a really interesting idea, actually. You know what it kind of reminds me of? When Dracula has left his mark on a victim/first drawn blood from them he seems able to enforce a sort of... fog in their mind, something that stops them connecting the dots to realize what is happening. This can go along with an inability to inform others about it. I'm thinking most specifically of Mina, who knew all the symptoms but didn't realize what she was feeling matched them perfectly until the confrontation on October 3rd, as well as Lucy seeming to have vague fears about certain things but nothing she could articulate beyond that one dream, until the very end. In both cases, Dracula seemed to want them to be able to retain/share that final information: with Mina, he gave a dramatic speech, and with Lucy we know that he entered the room before she wrote her memorandum and didn't make his final attack until afterwards, so presumably he watched her write it. I imagine it was meant as a final triumph against the doctor who had been trying to hold him off, you know? And then of course there is that weird blank space in Jonathan's narration during the time he (presumably/must've) got drinked that last night at the castle.

All this to say... when Dracula marks his victims, they seem to become vulnerable to him in a way uniquely related to an inability to notice/articulate knowledge of his presence when he's hunting them.

Dracula seems to stop noticing Jonathan after Shovel Day. After Jonathan leaves his mark on him (a mark that remains for the rest of the book). After Jonathan makes him bleed.

And like... it could of course just be Dracula not sensing him in the crowd in Piccadilly, not noticing him until he sees him together with the rest of the polycula and then aiming his attack at Mina for maximum mental torture. There doesn't have to be anything even potentially supernatural about it. Maybe he hates Jonathan too much to give him that same kind of attention any more. Maybe he wants to hurt him even more specifically by turning his wife against him rather than handling it himself.

But if you want to keep this comparison going, it's super interesting that Dracula never fully seems to acknowledge Jonathan specifically ever again, after the time Jonathan marks him. The Piccadilly encounter is before it really starts (though the idea that Jonathan is attuned to Dracula's presence and subconsciously recognized that feeling even before he spotted the man himself is really cool and I'm hereby adopting it), but after that point Jonathan is hunting Dracula in every encounter. It's a complete role reversal, and this time the Count is the scarred prey whose perceptions may be being altered. Dracula still interacts with Jonathan for sure - hypnotizing him into sleep while drinking from Mina, leaping back from/glaring hatefully at him when Jonathan attacks him the same day - but as you point out, those are somewhat lacking in the terrible intimacy so thoroughly cultivated during the castle stay. It's possible there was something more direct with the hypnotism, but we have no direct evidence. He never speaks to Jonathan again. Perhaps he is having some trouble properly recognizing him/connecting him to the Jonathan Harker he knew.

(Actually. Shovel Day. Coin Drop Slash. Head Chop. If we go by van Helsing's rule of three that he once theorized were necessary to turn someone, then Jonathan also notably gets three hits in on Dracula when everyone else gets one at best. And the third one is indeed the final fatal blow.)

[bisexualbard-writes]

For the ask game, 3! I would love hearing about any ideas that have been bugging you to write them!

OKAY so I've been sitting on this one for a few days trying to recall an idea I haven't already talked about.

Soooo omegaverse can be very hit or miss for me, and at one point I asked myself can I make hot, desperate, out of control heat sex a lil more… consensual than often portrayed?

So, in the Read More, we have omega!Kim who's suppressants aren't working and hired heat mate!Chay and they're figuring things out one heat at a time.

So Kim has been using too many suppressants for too long against doctor recommendation, and something something, he gets kidnapped and it's fine except he misses his normal suppressant regimen and suddenly his hormones or whatever are completely out of whack. This is definitely just a contrived reason to make Kim have to experience a handful of heats before he can get back on them. He thinks about just waiting it out, but they end much faster with the assistance of an alpha nearby - they don't even have to fuck, just having an alpha's pheromones nearby can help.

So he goes about trying to find the least alpha-like alpha to hire as a heat mate and ends up with Chay, a college student who likes being helpful and making people feel safe and comfortable and happy and also likes earning some extra spending money so he doesn't have to ask his brother for some.

As Kim interviews Chay, Chay asks Kim what would make him feel safe and comfortable during their time together, and Kim says something grumpy snarky like "I'm not going to feel safe unless you're caged and chained," and Chay is like, "got it! no problem!"

So before Kim's heat kicks in he shows up at Kim's house with handcuffs and a cock cage and a ball gag. He puts the cage on in front of Kim and gives Kim the only key, then puts his pants back on and tells Kim to cuff his hands and legs however he sees fit. So Kim cuffs him to the bed, but then they have to sit and talk for a bit before KIm's heat really sets in, and they end up talking about music and Kim starts to catch the feelings, then Kim gags him when it's time.

But their first time just ends up with Kim jerking off and fucking himself with dildos next to Chay, while Chay provides the pheromones Kim needs. It still takes a long time for Kim's heat to end because Chay can't actually get hard with the cage and that would provide more scent.

The next time Kim trusts him a little more, so he foregoes the gag and absolutely loses it when Chay tells him he's lovely and he's good.

So the time after that there's even more trust, and decides to forego the cage and the ankle cuffs. NOT TO FUCK, just to get those good pheromones he so desperately wanted. So of course, in the midst of his heat he's like "but what if I fucked Chay??" but Chay stops him because Kim didn't consent to it before hand and Chay really does want to fuck him, but he won't right now.

So after, Kim likes Chay even MORE. But he's also paying Chay for his help, and it's Not Cool to fall for the sex worker you hired, so he tries to hide it. Chay also likes Kim a lot, but he knows it's Not Cool to fall in love with your client, so he tries to hide it.

Anyway, each heat Kim allows Chay to do a little bit more, but then the time comes when Kim can go back on suppressants and it's Emotional. They're gonna have to Talk about things.

Anyway I wanted to torture Kim by making him have to ask for the things he wants, and also Chay being his delightful self and somehow still doming Kim even when he's the one tied up.

[leon-swedfinqs]

A Witch’s Letter

Anathema sends out a letter to the duo requesting help only one of them can truly provide.

Aziraphale gets some insight into other sides of his partner he was yet to be exposed to.

Crowley comes up with a compromise.

Read below the cut

Hell or any infernal torture dimension equivalent truly knew no fury like a dedicated Anathema Device. And now here she was, many strange paper trails and shoddy eye witness account later, clutching a parchment and watching as the mail carriage tumbled down the gravel road towards her. Upon seeing her silhouette against the shrubbery, the driver pulled back on the reigns of the feathered yet wingless bird lugging the trolley until it came to a stop before her.

“Madame” he tipped his hat to her before gesturing to her letter, “what’s this? Letter to a boy?”

“I’m not quite sure actually,” Anathema mumbled, recounting the multiple pronouns used to describe who she suspected to be the same person. Regardless, she held out the letter.

“Aw, young love. Reminds me of me and my Maud. I’ll make sure it gets to him in a few days, ma’am” he nodded as he took it from her.

“Actually,” she said as he other hand dug into her dress pocket and retrieved a small burlap pouch, “This needs to be delivered now. As soon as possible. Priority.”

She held out the sack, but the postman made no effort to take it.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but I can’t fast track any deliveries over others, even for a bribe. It would go against my oath, see,” he said. Anathema’s grip on the pouch tightened. The hard gold coins felt absolutely worthless in that moment.

Even though she’d normally prided herself on her cool temper, the postman seemed to have noticed a change in her expression. “Oh, I know the rate of snail mail can be frustrating, ma’am. At least we aren’t using giant snails anymore, aye? My old stead, Cepha, she did her time as a dedicated postal worker—lives at home in a happy retirement now. If you’re upset your note won’t get to your love before your anniversary or somethin, I’ll be sure to tell him it was my fault for the delay, alright?”

“It’s not for a partner,” Anathema mumbled, “It’s…it’s for a…a doctor, of sorts. The boy I tutor, he’s very ill. No one can help, this doctor may be my last hope,” her chin fell to her chest, “please, I can double my offer, I just need to get them here as soon as possible. I can get you more money, or I could-“

“Put the coins away, lass,” he said before she heard the trolley creek and two feet hit the ground. Slowly she looked up to find the postman looking at her letter in his hands. The corners of his mouth upturned in a smile, “I’ll do it. I’ll deliver this one, fast as you’ve ever seen. You have my word. In return I need no money, but I will need someone to finish my route for the day. Tomorrow another worker can cover, but today I’m out of luck. Would you-“

“YES!” Anathema gasped before quickly clearing her throat and regaining her composure, “oh, yes yes of course I will. Anything.”

The postman nodded before smiling, “we’ve got a deal then. Pick up and delivery list is in the front compartment, you’ll need to use your own stead to cart around the wares. And once you’re finished, just drop my cart off at the office on 3rd and Stenton in town.” Anathema nodded furiously at each instruction before the postman approached the large creature and pulled himself up onto the saddle. He undid the towing attachment and gave the creature a quick kick to the side. All at once, a bright yellow pair of wings sprouted from either side of its body.

“Give Adam my regards!” The postman called before with another kick, he took off into the sky.

~~~

Aziraphale was stubborn.

When he told crowley he was going to shill out money for a PO Box, crowley summoned the fattest eye roll he could muster. The type of people who used their services typically didn’t seek out specific blokes, just whoever was willing to do their dirty work. Not to mention they wouldn’t want to use the postal system.

Unsurprisingly, they received very few letters. They did occasionally get messages from previous clients or people they’d met on their journeys, that was welcomed. They also received a fair bit of junk mail—a concept Aziraphale didn’t initially understand and almost led him to sending their stash of gold to a ‘prince in need on a small loan.’

Even after Crowley pointed out that having a traceable place where their enemies could link them to could be dangerous, Aziraphale insisted, not out of disagreement but purely out of stubbornness. And now, finally was the day it was all paying off.

With his nose practically sniffing the sun, he placed the letter in front of crowley with a satisfied “hmph!”. Crowley only tilted his glasses down his nose and glances between the parchment and the satisfied cleric.

“What’s got you so pleased with yourself?” Crowley asked as he went back to whatever he was going, probably fiddling with a dagger.

“Take a look at this. You said it was silly, but ohhh it seems like our PO Box was truly useful. Especially because this lass sounds like she’s willing to spend a pretty penny” Aziraphale hummed. Crowley, making a great show of doing so, finally picked up the letter and read over the lines. However, the more he read, the less exasperated he seemed. His pupils moved faster across the page, until finally stopping on the final line.

To whom it may concern,

You do not know me, and I do not know you, but I am requesting your aid.

My name is Anathema Device, if you’ve heard of me it may be due to my family’s prophecies and our affiliation with the high royals. Rest assured, I do not collude with those people. I am an educator, a teacher of sorts. I’ve studied all forms of magic, specifically into ancient, lost, or hidden art forms. Due to my knowledge and vast array of skills, I have recently been hired to tutor this wonderful young boy.

I have heard of you, in passing. Of your wits and skills and ability to fight. Of your magic and intelligence. Tales lost to the gust of winds in the forest.

I have foreseen this day coming. But I did not expect it so soon, and as such I am unprepared. I cannot help him. No one can truly help him.

If I’m right, if what I’ve seen in my future is right, then you’re the only one who can. I understand your hesitance. I am willing to offer anything as compensation, for your help, with the promise of my quiet in return. I beg of you, please.

The zodiacs, the stars, are calling to him, and I cannot help him answer.

Aziraphale looked at him expectantly, waiting for some kind of admission of wrong. However, Crowley’s face looked pale and wordless he stood with the paper, walked over to a trash can, and slipped it in.

“Wh- oh come on now Crowley! Just because you don’t want to admit I proved you wrong that doesn’t mean you can just ignore the young woman!” Aziraphale huffed as he walked over to the can and went to retrieve it. However, Crowley held out a hand to stop him.

“It’s…it’s not that,” he mumbled, “that woman. I just, I don’t want any affiliation with her,” Crowley mumbled, “You were right, whatever, just forget it ever happened.”

“What’s gotten into you?” Aziraphale frowned, though his voice was laced with concern. Crowley was looking off and it didn’t seem like he was planning on meeting any gazes any time soon. When he didn’t answer, Aziraphale pursued his lip before suddenly turning away, walking over to his bag and rummaging before retrieving a scroll. He brought it back over to the rogue.

“Remember when you told me about the stars?” Aziraphale asked. Crowley didn’t move, but usually the lack of a “no” meant “yes” when he was in moods like this. Aziraphale suddenly pulled open the scroll, showing a star map.

“Ever since then, I kept my eye out for any literature about stars I thought you’d like. And I found out all about these beings called ‘Zodiacs!’ They’re affiliated with the stars, I think you’d really enjoy them!” Aziraphale tucked part of the map between his fingers to keep it open while the others gestured to a picture of scales overlayed over one of the constellations, “The woman mentioned them in her letter. I think you’d have a really great time on this mission if you gave it a chance, eh?”

Crowley wordlessly looked over at the star map, his eyes scanning over the constellations and symbols that decorated the page. Aziraphale frowned as he watched Crowley study the paper with sadness in his eyes.

Carefully, Crowley pulled the map from Aziraphale’s grasp and held it up as he leaned against the wall. He rolled the scroll and tucked one of the edges underneath the crook of his arm in order to look more intently at a different section of signs. The two stood in complete silence, the air thick with tension and confusion. Aziraphale was afraid to speak, afraid to scare Crowley off.

“Angel, I…” Crowley sighed as he rolled up the scroll and held it tightly in his hands, the paper squishing under his grip. He still wasn’t making eye contact. “…who do you think she wrote the letter to?”

“Why us, of course,” Aziraphale said firmly. “She so neatly addressed it to our business. Her penmanship is quite lovely.”

“Quite…” Crowley sighed. “Look, Angel, it’s-ngk-fuck…”

He turned, finally making eye contact. “It’s to me. The letter was for me.”

Aziraphale furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he replayed the words of the letter in his head.

“What do you mean? The young woman pointedly notes both of our skills in her request.”

“And yet she never says either of our names,” Crowley reminded him. He turned his head to the side, momentarily breaking eye contact. “Frankly I don’t blame her, probably couldn’t pinpoint mine…” he muttered. The tiefling took a moment to take a deep breath and compose himself, before placing the scroll down on the table besides them and making firm eye contact with Aziraphale once more.

“You read about the Zodiacs, correct?” He interrogated.

“Wh-yes, but-“

“What about the magic they pass down? The blessing of stardust to mortals?”

Aziraphale owlishly blinked, staring up at Crowley in confusion. He had a million questions swimming around in his head — yes, while he would consider himself highly educated, Aziraphale is still blind to other forms of magic and the religions that surrounded these abilities. He’s been spending his years catching up on outside history and his own magic sector in order to properly assimilate. But one question couldn’t help but blurt itself out.

“Why, in Ecliel’s great realm, do you know about this?” he asked.

Crowley deflated slightly at the question, and for a moment his eyes appeared glazed and elsewhere. Aziraphale recognized that expression well and carefully dragged over one of the nearby stools before Crowley slumped onto it. He sat hunched forward, elbows on his knees and clasping his fingers.

There were no words that felt right, but Crowley forced words regardless. “For my 6th birthday, I asked my family for a star map. When I was 7, I asked for a sextant. And when I turned 8, they got me an astrolabe.” The tiefling smiled somberly as memories drifted in—many nights he would sneak out of his bedroom through the high up window with notebooks, astrological tools and his blanket. They’d wiggle themselves up onto the roof and settle on a perfectly comfy stop to observe, appreciate, and reach out to the stars. That was, until, one day the stars reached back to him.

“I was observing as I did every night. I would gaze and name every constellation and star system, identify which planets were in view, count all of the shooting stars and asteroids that would briefly pass by. Once I finished documenting what the sky looked like that night, I would lay on the roof and reach out towards the sky, my hands open as if I was waiting to catch something…”

Crowley sighed as he rubbed his right thumb against his left palm in a nervous gesture.

“I would concentrate on the constellation above me, Aries I believe it was that night. I would close my eyes and mentally sing out to it, almost like a prayer I guess,” he laughed. “I felt comfort in the gesture. Like my voice was a call and the stars would comfort me into the follow day. I always thought that those were their answers, that sense of protection I would feel. But, then…”

During their call, Crowley suddenly felt a comforting warmth building up in the palms, growing and pushing like a flower bud through the dirt. Breaking the ritual, they opened their eyes in curiosity, and were met with a bright glow sitting in their hands.

Crowley stared at the light in his hands and gasped. And the star seemed to gasp back.

The tiefling was incredibly careful with the star, though it was out of appreciation rather than fear. Curiously one of his fingers brushed over the surface, only for a smattering of starlight to flicker onto his thumb and scatter into the space around them. It almost looked like dust or flaky snow fluttering off, though once the first few particles dettached, others quickly followed. Crowley worried he may have hurt the star, though the nerves were dashed once the specks began to swirl upwards, moving to twist gently around his horns. When they reached the tips, the stardust shifted and curled to form another loop, similar to the rack of a ram.

The strangest thing? That stardust *tickled* almost. Well, not exactly tickling. Crowley could feel the small particles like warm, comforting pinpricks, but the feeling they transferred brought a light that made him want to giggle.

The stardust came back to settle in his hands, not as condensed as it had once been and still a bit drifting around dreamily or freckled on crowley’s skin like he had accidentally spilled the most beautiful paint in the world.

“A star’s blessing,” Crowley sighed. “A connection that forms deep within your soul, branching between the physical and celestial realm. It allows us to draw power from our rising and manifest it into magic.”

As he spoke, Crowley could feel the dormant warmth pulse beneath his skin, the fire now attached to his being, too stubborn to let go. Over the years he was able to subconsciously tune it out — constantly listening to it cry out would’ve driven him mad.

“I was granted the blessing…this kid, I bet he was too…”

Crowley sighed. He was afraid, honestly. He still had unsaid words sitting on his tongue, his body felt rigid in fear of what the cleric might say or how he would react. He felt vulnerable, exposed and stinging like an open wound. He said too much, he said too much.

Aziraphale said nothing at first, his eyes purely studying Crowley’s form. He’d never seen him like this frankly, and in his mind a lot of connections were being made to previous mysteries about his companion. Although the memory was lovely, it didn’t need to be said that something must’ve gone wrong—the fate this meeting with a star had led to only ended in trauma that crowley had tried to buried, all undone by a single woman’s letter.

Gently and silently, Aziraphale approached and reached out, cupping his hands around Crowley’s nervous interlocked fingers. He held his hands with the same care and reverence Crowley had held his star with. He could feel a slight tremor coming from the rogue’s hands, the fear and memories shimmering around him like dust that was brushed off a shelf.

“The kid is cursed…I…I can’t help him. No-nn-I-no, I won’t help him,” Crowley sputtered. “I’m sorry…”

Aziraphale blinked in surprise as he frowned. This was incredibly uncharacteristic for Crowley, especially since Aziraphale had picked up on his sweet spot for children. Although he would swear up and down he “hated the little brats,” Aziraphale caught crowley sneaking extra food or supplies to street kids, and even agreed to going on a mission for free a few months back when a little girl asked them to help find her dad. Although it may have seemed cruel, Aziraphale knew it wasn’t easy for Crowley.

“I don’t think you should help him,” Aziraphale started. Crowley’s gaze snapped up in surprise, obviously expecting the cleric to try and persuade him the other way. But Aziraphale held firm gaze as he squeezed crowley’s hands gently. “You’ve obviously been hurt by this in the past. I don’t think it would be a good idea for you to get involved, dear. You’re very important, Crowley”

A tear slid down the rogue’s cheek, though before it reached his chin, he suddenly stood up and moved his hands under aziraphale’s arms, instead wrapping around him and grasping him in a desperate embrace. His breath shuddered as he buried himself into Aziraphale, only able to mutter a small “thank you” into the clerics shirt.

Aziraphale remained and embraced him for a long time, every so often whispering another affirmation or grounding crowley with a squeeze. However, his eyes couldn’t help but drift to the nearby table with the discarded letter, words desperate and pleading.

Once Crowley sufficiently calmed down, Aziraphale finally pulled away.

“Dear boy, I’m glad you’re doing what’s best for you. I really do think it’s best that you stay here for this” Aziraphale smiled.

“Yeah…wait, what do you mean ‘this’?”

“Well…I believe I want to go on a solo mission to help this boy.”

Aziraphale held his ground as Crowley bristled and looked at him oddly.

“I might not understand zodiac magic, nor am I able to cast it. But it sounds like it’s a deep spiritual connection. My magic stems from my faith, it was granted to me by my god as a…blessing, I guess would be the right term. This young lady sounds more like an academic, learning element combinations in order to cast magic. While not the same, I believe I can still help.”

Aziraphale was beaming at the concept. Any opportunity to help the cleric would take, that Crowley understood. He has watched him try to cast magic more “traditionally”, like how one would learn at an academy to become a sorcerer, but he greatly fumbled and was barely able to make a spark. His magic seemed to flow with his confidence, emotions, and faith. It was difficult in the beginning to translate those feelings and power into tangible and legit spells.

“It doesn’t sound like a typical quest, Angel,” Crowley frowned. “It feels like more of a, errr…babysitting job. Long term. A sit in.”

“Oh? Think I’ll have to become his nanny, do you?” Aziraphale smiled. Crowley rolled his eyes.

“I just mean, this seems like an extended commitment. And I don’t think it’s safe for either of us to-“ to be around zodiacs, including a kid that could explode and become an ultra powerful maniac, “-stay in one place for too long, you know.”

“You have a point,” Aziraphale mumbled before snapping his fingers, “then I’ll host a sort of boot camp! Short term but packed to the brim with lessons!”

Crowley bit his lip. “Err…uh…I have a hunch that the kid is, like, around 10 years old.”

“And how does that change anything?” Aziraphale asked as he tilted his head.

“Weren’t you a bit restless when you were ten? The ‘I’d rather do anything else’ phase?”

“…no? I quite liked my lessons, I wanted to be risen,” he said bluntly.

Crowley blinked as he thought for a moment. The image of a younger Aziraphale, sans halos, chubbier cheeks, and more wild hair, dressed up in a sort of ornate uniform, sitting in a back room frantically trying to memorize passages of scripture before a sermon.

“Right,” Crowley sighed. “Well, normal ten year olds won’t follow a boot camp learning program that easily. They’re like…uh…what’s that thing that’s slippery and hard to catch…”

Crowley trailed off in thought for a moment before shaking his head. “Right! Regardless, it’s unsafe for one of us to leave for a long time. So I’ll just, er…we’ll go together. I pick up some jobs for money, you deal with the kid.”

Aziraphale softly smiled. Of course he couldn’t help but want to help the kid anyway. “Oh Crowley, are you sure?”

Crowley sniffed and curtly nodded. “Yes, correctamundo, 100%—oh I’m not saying that again,” he babbled. “Now shoo! Go write back to that witch woman, I’ll cook some dinner.”

Aziraphale bright smiled as Crowley quickly waved him off before slipping off into the kitchen. As the cleric turned and grabbed the letter to leave to his study, he heard Crowley blurt out in exasperation “Fish!”, making him chuckle. He hoped that dinner would take a while, he’s got a letter to write and some supplies to organize and pack. He has a feeling this was going to be a big one.

[nehswritesstuffs]

to be a captain is to be brave, to care, to love

Congrats--I’m the dumbass who posts fic for the wrong Straw Hat on another crewmate’s birthday lolol

9320 words; this hit me hard recently because, well, it just did (as in: I wrote most of this within the past few days); I have complicated emotions about Deadbeat Dad Yasopp and I guess this is my brain working through it; this does not take place in a continuity that contains Uta, mainly because I don’t really want to write her being a bratty little bully bc you know that’s what would happen; not an entire rewrite but does shift things a little bit to the left

to be a captain is to be brave, to care, to love; something very different happened on the day Banchina passed away: her son told the truth. [Usopp-centric slight AU]

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

She is dying.

That was the only thing that the doctor wrote on the paper before stuffing it in an envelope and sending it with a News Coo. That had been the week prior, and now it seemed as though the message was going to be for naught. He was sitting at the sick woman’s bedside, changing the compress on her forehead for a cool, fresh one.

“Where is Usopp?” she asked. The doctor shook his head.

“He ran off soon as I got here,” he replied, tone hiding the fact he’d told her twice already. “He’ll be back.”

“He’s such a silly boy.” She tilted her head and looked out the window at the clouds, bright and fluffy. “He has his father’s spirit.”

“Banchina…”

“No, he does; he’s going to become a wonderful person.”

The doctor sighed heavily. “I wrote to him.”

“Why…?” Her attention went back to the doctor, her eyes now sharp, all of her strength put behind them. “He was not supposed to know.”

“It doesn’t matter; he hasn’t come.”

“So you’d rather ignore the wishes of someone on their deathbed than let a free man enjoy the last moments he has at peace?” There was fire and venom in her voice, not heard by the doctor since they were young children. “It’s bad enough Usopp has had to watch me…”

“He deserves to know.”

“He deserves to be free.”

“He’s your husband; he should be here.”

“So you can torture him more?!”

“That’s not what this is and we both know it! It’s…!”

“Mom! Mom! Mom!” Usopp shouted from outside. Banchina gave one last glare before softening her face, not wanting a scowl to be how her son remembered her. “Pirates are coming! Pirates are coming up the slope!” The boy burst into the house and barreled towards his mother, tears streaming down his face. “Pirates are coming! That means that Dad’s back!”

“Usopp, sweetie, I need you to listen to me,” she said. “You’re going to have to be a good kid for me, alright? Make sure you grow into a good man, a good person, and never let them look down on you. Do you understand?”

“…but Mom…”

“I know your dad’s not there—please, don’t hate him for that. He’s very far away and can’t come back safely. It was my choice to stay here with you, and I’d do it over and over again…”

“Banchina, please…”

“I am talking to my son.” The doctor stepped towards the other side of the room at that, keeping his distance. “Please, Usopp, promise me you’re going to be brave, alright?”

“Mom…” Usopp’s tiny frame shook as he tried not to cry. “Just a little bit! Please!”

“I know what you’re doing, darling; don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

“…’China…?”

Banchina froze as her eyes went towards the door, seeing Yasopp standing in the threshold, body frozen in shock. All at once he stumbled into the house, nearly tripping over himself as he went to sit on the edge of the mattress at his wife’s side. Tears began to escape his eyes as he brought her limp, cold hand in both of his.

“I told them not to tell you,” she said, looking away in pain. “I didn’t want your last memory of me to be like this.”

“No, I’m glad I could come… I’ll take seeing you one last time while sick than never see you again at all.” His voice cracked and squeaked in pain—this was never what he had planned on when he left those years ago. “I’m so sorry… you were the only one who made this place worth it for so long…”

Banchina simply hushed him and offered the strongest smile she could. Yasopp bent down and pressed their foreheads together before kissing her gently. A sob escaped him as he pulled away, confirming to the little boy in the corner precisely what he had feared.

Banchina of Syrup Village was no more.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“So, how old are you, lad?”

“Uh… six…?”

“Oh… well, that’s a fucking bummer.”

Usopp stared at the red-haired man sitting at the table in the town’s only restaurant, who was currently involved in taking a large swig of beer. He didn’t want to be around his house at the moment, since his father and the village doctor were currently having a shouting match. The boy escaped the row by heading into town, where he saw the rest of the pirates his dad had come in with.

This one was apparently the captain.

“Everyone in town says that you’re the one that stole Dad from Mom and me,” Usopp said. The captain shrugged noncommittally—couldn’t refute that.

“What did your mom always say?”

“She said that ‘Dad left following his dream, the sea, his freedom’.”

“Then I think you should listen to your mom, kid.” The man adjusted the straw hat perched atop his head and took another drink. “You know, soon as your dad got news about your mom, we came straight here. I wouldn’t keep him from what he needs for anything.”

“Why’s that?”

“It’s my obligation, as the captain.” He paused as the waitress returned with food for the table, which he encouraged Usopp to sit and eat. “See, when you’re a captain, you need to figure out what it is that people need and how that’s different from what they want, and make it happen. Your dad always wants to travel the seas and very often needs to, but right now, what he needs is to be here.”

“You have a big crew—did they need to be here too?”

“No, but they wanted to come along, to support your dad, and it wasn’t anything that put a damper on their needs, so we all came along.” He watched as the boy’s face scrunched in thought. “It’s a lot to think about, I know. Don’t worry—you’re just a kid. You got time to figure it out.”

“What we don’t have time for is figuring out how this pit stop is going to impact our making it to the Grand Line without attracting too much attention,” said a tall, severe-faced man with dark hair. He took the smoldering cigarette from his lips and stubbed it out before beginning to eat. “We had a route, a plan, and none of it involved Yasopp’s hometown.”

“You can’t be so serious, Beck,” the captain chuckled. “We were planning on docking someplace for about a year anyhow… why not make it here?”

“…because I remember part of why it was so easy for him to leave to begin with.” He looked at the child currently nibbling on a fried chicken tender and sighed. “He really should have come here on his own and met up with us at the rendezvous point.”

“…and become a widow by himself…?”

“Minimize the impact on the locals—you know that.”

“Fuck…” It was then that Yasopp barged in the front door, looking fresh from a fight with a split lip and an impressive shiner. He found where his son was and blanched, going to his side immediately.

“You know better than to wander off on your own,” Yasopp gently chided. He removed the child from his seat and sat down, keeping his son in his lap. “We’re leaving soon as the captain is able to, okay?”

“Leaving…?” Usopp almost dropped the rest of his chicken tender. “Why…?”

“There are bad memories here,” Yasopp replied gravely. “I’m not going to make more by staying.”

“We can leave by nightfall,” the captain shrugged. He looked at the kid and raised his eyebrow. “Are you sure this is a good idea…?”

“If you grew up on a pirate ship, then I see no problem.” Yasopp picked up one of the neglected glasses of ice water and pressed the side against his black eye. “I’ll make sure to grab some things before we leave…”

“I’ll meet you at the house then, bye!” Usopp said. He wriggled out of his father’s grasp and ran out the door before any of the crew could snag him. Yasopp started to go after him, but was stopped by the captain.

“No,” the red-haired man said firmly. “He just learned he’s leaving. Let him make his peace with this place. Just because you never could doesn’t mean he can’t.”

Yasopp grumbled as he concentrated on the glass of water to his eye and grabbing a beer to occupy his other hand—captain’s orders sure were a bitch sometimes.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Usopp ran as fast as his tiny legs could take him. He ran through Syrup Village, dodging other residents, until he found a hole in a stone wall just big enough for him to shimmy through. On the other side was the expansive grounds of a mansion, which he rushed up to in order to knock on a very specific window. The little girl inside jumped in fright before running to open the pane.

“I’m leaving,” was all Usopp could get out, gasping for breath. The girl stared at him.

“What do you mean…?”

“My dad came… I’m leaving… today…”

“He what?! No way?!”

“Kaya, I’m scared!” The little boy began to shake terribly. “Dad came back, Mom died, and now we’re leaving and I don’t know when I’ll be here again!”

“…but why tell me…?”

“...because you’re the only one who’s nice to me!” He couldn’t bear to look at his friend, so instead he glared at a bit of wall as he cried. “I’ll come back to visit someday… I promise!”

“You gotta shake on it!” Kaya insisted. She stuck her hand out the window and waited for Usopp to take it, making direct eye contact. “You’re always talking about becoming a great warrior of the sea! Come back before you get too great, okay?”

“I promise!”

“Kaya? Sweetie? What’s going on in there…?”

“Usopp, run!” Kaya whispered. Her eyes were wide in not only fear, but excitement as well. “I’ll see you later, okay?!”

“Okay!”

The child sprinted off before his friend’s mother could investigate the room.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It had been an entire week and Yasopp wasn’t entirely sure what to do.

After making sure that his wife would get a proper burial and his son had everything he needed, he had returned to the ship with his six-year-old in-tow and the determination to do what Banchina would have wanted. Ever since they were young, she had encouraged him to find solace on the sea, to escape the glares and mumbled words of spite that came from the other villagers. She had always been too uneasy on the sea, and had insisted that she would be fine as he chased that freedom and acceptance he craved without her, and now… now she was gone and he had their kid, which was a bit more of an adjustment than he thought it was going to be.

Kids, for the most part, were messy creatures, and there wasn’t a lot of room for messes on a pirate ship. While Usopp didn’t have a lot of toys, he did have clutter that was liable to be underfoot, which wasn’t exactly a good idea. Limejuice had already fallen flat on his ass thanks to some marbles the boy was experimenting with, and Yasopp himself was already victim to a variety of mishaps involving the aforementioned marbles, a chemistry set that seemed to appear out of nowhere, and a slingshot armed with all sorts of things sticky and stinky.

“Thank fuck we’re almost at port,” the man grumbled. He watched as Usopp bounced around the galley in excitement at the prospect of somewhere new. Hongo nodded in commiseration, the pair both below deck due to particularly troublesome hangovers.

“Letting the kid run around on land would definitely be for the better,” Hongo said. “He needs to eat dirt.”

Yasopp turned slowly and stared at his crewmate. “What…?”

“You know—get dirty. Play with other kids.”

“I know you might have forgotten, but it’s not like the boy comes from a long line of kids everyone wants to play with. Banchina…”

“… was the only one to ever give you the time of day, I remember.” Hongo sipped at his water and grimaced at the sounds coming out of the kitchen. “Maybe some of her openness rubbed off on him?”

“If it did, then I hope the world is kinder to him for it,” Yasopp frowned. He was about to reach back into his memories when he heard Shanks’s voice from above, filled with both authority and excitement.

“LAND AHEAD! ALL HANDS ON DECK!”

“Oh! Did you hear that, Dad?! Land!” Usopp seemed to almost vibrate in anticipation. “An island!”

“I heard him, I heard him,” Yasopp grumbled. He and Hongo both knocked back the rest of their waters before depositing the mugs and heading above deck, with the small child all but dragging his father along.

A few minutes of the sea air rejuvenated Yasopp and soon he was helping out with the rigging, with Usopp standing by the prow in an effort to see where they were sailing. Shanks went up to the child and patted him on the head.

“That’s called Foosha,” he said. “We’re gonna stay there for a while, if the locals are amenable.”

“What’s that?”

“If they don’t mind that we’re pirates.” He saw that the boy’s eyes were still locked onto the small village at the island’s edge and smiled. “We need a place to operate out of—a base of sorts—in order to help build a name for ourselves.”

“Really…?”

“Yeah. Now get ready to go! You’re coming along on the first boat!”

The boy’s eyes went wide—he got to go! Important people got to go on the first boat! This was going to be great!

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

As it turned out, getting to go with the initial landing party was less exciting than Usopp imagined it would be—it was actually kind of boring. He had to stand there with his dad, Shanks, and Beckmann as the captain talked with this old man about terms of their stay and what the rules were and things like that. The boy fidgeted in place, which the village elder took notice.

“How very shrewd of you to bring him along,” the old man said. “I suppose you need a place for him to stay so he doesn’t see what you get up to?”

“Possibly, but I still take responsibility for my son,” Yasopp said, giving a short bow. “I can no longer leave him with his mother.”

“Ah.” The elder nodded knowingly. “We have a child like that here. Maybe your son will be a good influence.”

“Excuse my laughter,” Shanks snickered, “but that must be some rambunctious kid you got there if a pirate’s child is the better influence.”

“You’re just upset because Gramps didn’t take me!” shouted a tiny voice. The pirates saw a small child poking angrily around a woman’s skirt. “Maybe they’ll take me with them! Then I can finally get out of here!”

“Over my dead body, you little brat!” the elder snapped. The boy stuck his tongue out at him and the old man sighed. “The whole family is an odd bunch; it’s a long story.”

“We’re pirates—what do we care?” Shanks chuckled. He then put his hand on Usopp’s back and urged him forward. “Go play while us adults talk more boring stuff. How about it?”

The boy grinned at Usopp before coming out from behind the young woman. He launched himself at Usopp happily, wrapping him in a tight hug.

“Alright! A new friend!”

It might have been shrewd of Shanks, but it did work.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“So, you don’t have parents?”

“Nope!”

“…and it’s just you and your grandpa?”

“Yup!”

“…and he leaves you here because he’s a Marine?”

“Pretty much!”

Usopp stared at Luffy as the other boy poked at a beetle. He had spent almost the entire day wandering around with the kid and was trying to wrap his head around him, yet couldn’t. They were almost the exact same age, and yet he was being left alone? It didn’t make sense. Even when his mom died, at least his dad was there…

“What do you think he’d do if he came to town while the crew’s docked here?”

“Probably laugh and have a drink,” Luffy shrugged. “Gramps is never working when he’s here, so he doesn’t really care who does what unless it’s really bad.”

“…but we’re pirates. We’re supposed to be bad.”

“You don’t seem that bad to me.”

“Luffy, we’re six.”

“Yeah? And?”

“You really don’t get it, do you?” Usopp frowned. He looked over his shoulder and saw that more of the crew was coming into port. Even Bonk Punch seemed small from this distance. “We’re brave warriors of the sea! We fight guys like the Marines!”

“You don’t.”

“Well, yeah, not yet… but I will!” Usopp stood atop a rock and pointed at the sky. “It’s my dream to be a proud and brave warrior of the sea one day! Just like my dad! I’ll even have a crew under my care!”

“Maybe.”

“What do you mean ‘maybe’?!”

“You might be part of my crew!”

“Your crew?!”

“Yeah! If you’re gonna be like your dad, you’re gonna need a captain. You’ll need a Shanks! I can do that!”

“Then you’d have to fight your grandpa!”

“Oh, that’s just what we always do.” Luffy grinned and held up the beetle. “Isn’t this cool?!”

“It is…” Usopp agreed. The boys marveled over the bug for a moment before Makino popped her head out the back of her bar, calling them in to wash up. “Is she, like, your sister? She’s not your mom.”

“I guess? I dunno. She feeds me and makes sure I’m okay. Is that what sisters do?”

“It’s what my mom did for me, but I guess a sister can too.”

The boys piled into the back kitchen and went directly to the sink. “Makino? Are you my mom or my sister?”

“Luffy!”

“He’s alright, Usopp,” the woman laughed. “Now, are your hands clean?” Both finished washing their hands quickly and showed her for inspection. “Good, now your dinner’s at the bar.”

“Alright!” Luffy cheered. He brought Usopp into the main of the bar, where the Red Hair Pirates were already beginning to settle in for an evening of partying. Two plates of food and glasses of milk sat on the bartop, where Luffy and Usopp both sat down and began eating.

“Wow! Miss Makino’s cooking is really good!” Usopp marveled. “It’s amazing!”

“Yeah!” Luffy agreed. “She’s the best!” He then chewed the food he already had stored in his cheeks thoughtfully. “That’s someone I’m going to need for my crew: a really good cook!”

“I can cook!”

“No you can’t—you’re six.”

“Yeah, and I cooked for my mom! She showed me how to make sandwiches and boil macaroni for cheese!”

“That’s not real cooking! Real cooking needs meat!”

“Boys, boys, relax,” Shanks said, coming up to the bar to grab a bottle of grog that had been left out for him. He tossed it over to Snake, who pulled the cork out with his teeth before he began drinking. “Let’s focus on the fact that you agree the lady’s cooking is superb.”

“Flattery will not get you very far here, I’m afraid,” Makino chuckled as she came out of the kitchen. She passed Shanks two plates of food, which he took with a suggestive wink. “I should rat you out to Woop Slap.”

“I do enjoy living dangerously,” he laughed, bringing the plates out to the crew. Luffy and Usopp simply stared at each other, confused.

“Don’t worry about it,” Makino chuckled. “Now finish your dinner and you can go play upstairs, okay?”

“Okay!”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The next morning, Usopp and Luffy went down the stairs to find the entirety of the Red Hair Pirates still passed out in the main area of the bar. Usopp even poked his dad, who kept on snoring—no luck.

“Come on, you,” Makino said, guiding the boy over to where she had set out food. “If you don’t eat, Luffy will finish your plate for you.”

“No! Don’t you dare!” The boy hopped onto the bar stool and began hoarking down his food, needing to smack Luffy away a couple of times in the process.

Yeah, Makino thought, this was right.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Time passed.

The Red Hair Pirates would leave Usopp in the care of Makino, returning a few weeks later with all the treasure and tales of adventure the boy and his friend could want. He would practice with his slingshot, or his chemistry set, or anything else he could while they were gone, making his dad beam with joy and pride when he told and showed him everything he accomplished.

Time passed, and the year mark crept ever-closer.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Makino let out a blood-curdling scream, the sound of which went directly into Usopp’s young bones. Both of them were standing on the edge of the harbor, watching as Shanks intimidated the Lord of the Coast with just a glare, but not after losing an arm as he went and rescued Luffy.

“Fuck! We need to get out there!” Yasopp cussed as he ran towards the pier.

“Everyone! Clean up the rest of the bandits!” Beckmann ordered. “We got this!”

“Aye, aye,” Roux said. He and the rest of the Red Hair Pirates charged at the last of Higuma’s gang, while Yasopp and Beckmann rowed out to where Shanks was treading water. This left Makino alone to sink to her knees, completely in shock, as Usopp trembled next to her.

“I told him not to make them mad…” the boy shivered. “Why didn’t he listen?!”

“I… I don’t think it would have mattered,” Makino said, her voice quiet. She looked at Usopp, her eyes glassy with tears, and held him by the shoulders. “This is not your fault.”

“…but Miss Makino, I…!”

“The only person who’s at fault is the bandit, and he’s now dead,” she insisted. She then brought him in close for a hug. “Don’t you ever think otherwise, you understand?”

“…but…!”

“I know you plan on being there for Luffy, and I need you to know that it’s not your fault, got it? Sometimes… things happen… and we can’t change it, but we can control how we act for them.”

“O… okay…”

It was then that Yasopp finished rowing back to shore, with Beckmann attempting to hold Shanks still while Luffy sobbed uncontrollably. Hongo appeared with his emergency kit, attempting to stop what was left of his captain’s arm from bleeding out right there on the dock. Yasopp threw Luffy over his shoulder and brought him to Makino, who grabbed onto him tightly.

“I thought… I thought he could…” she said unsteadily.

“He was so concentrated on saving this little guy that it was too late,” Yasopp replied. He stroked Luffy’s hair as the boy cried into Makino’s shoulder before turning his attention to his own son. Scooping up Usopp in a hug, he ignored the fact that he was currently sopping wet and covered in his captain’s blood—all he needed right now was his boy. “I’m so glad he didn’t get you too—the fact both of you are safe… it’s worth more than any treasure.”

Shanks bellowed in pain, causing all four of them to recoil. Usopp stared at the man as he writhed under Beckmann’s hold and Hongo’s attempts at treating him.

‘A captain has to know what his crew needs,’ he thought. ‘He needs to make it happen. Luffy needed to live… and he made that happen…’

There, on the little pier at the edge of the little village, the little boy in his father’s arms realized something very, very important: a captain was not a captain unless he had a crew, and once he had them, he should be prepared to do everything for them… even die for them… just like his mom died taking care of him.

A captain took care of his crew.

A crew is a captain’s greatest treasure.

The people one cared for are worth more than all the gold in the Grand Line.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It took a few days until Shanks was able to be let out of bed. Hongo and Makino took turns watching him, waiting for the fever that set in to break, hoping he hadn’t lost too much blood. Once he was up and moving, Luffy seemed to completely forget that Usopp existed, instead clinging to the man who saved his life. It made sense to the other boy, but it still didn’t mean that he wasn’t at least a bit jealous.

It was a week since what the village was officially referring to as the “Bear Incident” and the Red Hair Pirates were enjoying themselves in Party’s Bar. Usopp was sulking in a booth while eating with his father, with Monster passed out on the opposite bench seat. Yasopp looked at the pouting lad and felt his nerves messing with his stomach. Fuck… why was this so difficult? He leaned in and lowered his voice so that only his son could hear.

“Usopp…?”

“Yeah, Dad?” He put down his fork as he saw that his father’s face was sad and full of worry. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to know if you like it here.”

“I do!” the boy replied, perking up. “Makino makes good food, and the people here are really nice, and Luffy’s, like, my best friend! After Kaya of course! Why?”

“Well… because…” Yasopp exhaled heavily, not enjoying his position. “Shanks wants to move on soon.”

“Move on…? To a different island…?”

“To the Grand Line.” He scratched his son’s scalp and watched as he grew quiet. There was something criminal about the boy having his hair and complexion, but his mother’s nose. “It’s very dangerous, you know, to be on the Grand Line. It’s more dangerous than fighting the Lord of the Coast. Even people who are born and raised there can’t survive.”

“I don’t think I want to go to the Grand Line.”

“…which is why I was talking with Miss Makino earlier, and her and I think it would be better if you stayed here, in Foosha.”

“What about you…?”

Yasopp bit his lower lip and breathed in deeply, trying to keep himself composed. “I can’t stay. I’m a sailor, and the sea calls to me. It’s why I never was around before—it’s too strong for me to resist.”

“Oh… is that why everyone but Mom said bad things about you back in Syrup? Because you can’t tell the sea no?”

“Yeah… something like that.” He then let out a slight chuckle. “Besides, not only am I a sailor, but a pirate. Mister Woop Slap says pirates can’t stay here for too long, or Luffy’s grandpa might come and beat them up.”

“Luffy says that’s just what his grandpa does like normal,” Usopp deadpanned. Well, it had been worth a shot. “It’s nice when you’re gone, but it’s better when you’re here.”

“Tell you what: I’m going to let you stay here with Miss Makino, where it’s safe and you have good people around you, and in the meantime you are going to do your best to become big and strong. When you do, come to the Grand Line and find me. How does that sound?”

Usopp broke into sobs, clinging to Yasopp’s shirt. The kid was unintelligible through his tears, but his father held him in his arms and pat him on the back, soothing him best he could.

“You’re one of the best things I’ve ever done, you know that?” he crooned. “I can’t bring you to the Grand Line and let you die. Then who will I have to live for?”

“I’ll miss you so much!”

“I know… and I’ll miss you too… but you have to be brave, Usopp. Be brave for me… and be brave for your mom. Please?” His son nodded into his chest. “There’s a good lad. I’ll always be proud of you… for everything that’s happened to us in the past year, you’ve been taking it very well.”

“When are you going to leave…?”

“Tomorrow.” He offered Usopp a smile and pat his hair. “Just remember that you have to let whatever happens to you push you forward, not back.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Different people get pushed differently by the same things, so don’t compare yourself or get too worried. You’re your mother’s son—nothing is going to keep you down for long. I know it.”

Usopp wiped his nose on his arm and laughed weakly. Yeah… he guessed so.

“Until then,” Yasopp said, “let’s party! Go get some cake from Lucky Roux! Big slices! Go on!” He shoved his son from the booth and watched as he scurried across the dining area to where their large crewmate was lording over an even larger cake.

What was harder? Leaving his kind and understanding wife and a baby who didn’t know him or his son just as they were just becoming acquainted? He didn’t think he had the answer, nor did he want one.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Dawn was just beginning to break and wash Foosha Village with a lovely golden glow. The Red Hair Pirates all were asleep where they had been partying in the bar; even Usopp was curled up in his father’s side… that was… until Luffy began to shake him awake.

“Hey, Usopp! Get up!”

“What is it?” the boy asked groggily.

“I’m hungry, and no one else is awake to cook.”

“What about Miss Makino?”

“Her door’s locked.”

Usopp groaned and tried to shake his father awake—nothing. So, instead, he found a lockpick set on one of the other pirates and went up the stairs with Luffy. He worked patiently, eventually getting the door to give way. The pair went into the dark room and tugged at the blankets, rousing the sleeping adult.

“Miss Makino!” Luffy whined. “We’re hungry!”

“Oh fuck…” was the reply, except it wasn’t Makino…

“Captain…?” Usopp frowned. “What are you doing here?”

“I… uh… fell asleep talking to Miss Makino. She’ll be down in a minute.”

“…but Shanks! You’re naked!”

“I know Luffy, just… fuck… go play until Miss Makino calls for you, alright?”

The boys left the room disheartened, but also very confused. Why was the Captain in Miss Makino’s room? It took until they were outside watching the bugs hum to life in the sunrise before Usopp realized what had happened, hitting him like a ton of bricks.

Luckily for him, the scream he let out was the same he made when a bug took him by surprise, so no one awake in Foosha paid him any mind.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

After a tearful goodbye at the docks, the Red Hair Pirates sailed off without their youngest member. The boy and his friend watched until the ship could no longer be seen on the horizon, heading off to the forest afterwards to go play with bugs. They did that for a couple months, playing during the day and pretending to be pirates up in their rooms at night, until one morning, Usopp came down the stairs and saw that Luffy was not there.

“He’s gone?!”

“Yes; his grandpa came this morning and took him to the mountains,” Makino said. “We can go visit him in a couple weeks, if you’d like.”

“A couple weeks?!”

“We’re supposed to take food up to the Dadan Family around then—that’s who he’s staying with.”

“Th-th-the D-d-d-dadan Family?! Is Luffy going to be okay?!”

“Pretty sure; his grandpa wouldn’t take him there unless the thought it would be for the best.” She watched as Usopp sat down at his usual bar stool while seeming very conflicted. “I told him about you, by the way.”

“You did…?”

“I did. He likes that Luffy has a friend in you. For the meantime, it’s probably better you stay here, with me, in a place that’s not a bandit-infested forest.”

“True, true,” Usopp nodded. A plate of food was then placed before him, brightening his expression considerably.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Kaya,

It’s me, Usopp! I know we haven’t spoken in a long time, but I thought I’d write to you now that I know where I’m staying! There was enough left over in my allowance to get some paper and Coo fee, so here I am!

How are you doing? My dad left me in a different village, where people are nicer than the ones in Syrup. It’s called Foosha, and it’s in Goa Kingdom. I live with a lady named Makino—she’s really nice! You’d like her! She owns a bar and I help out sometimes. It’s the only one in town, so lots of people come by. Pirates, Marines, bounty hunters, bandits—we see them all! I’m saving the money I make so Luffy and I can sail to the Grand Line when we’re older! Maybe you can come along too?

Oh, yeah, that’s right: you’re my first best friend, but Luffy’s my second best friend. He used to live with Makino too, but now he lives in the mountains with his brothers Ace and Sabo. Luffy ate a Devil Fruit! He can stretch! It’s pretty cool, but not as cool as my shooting skills! I’m getting really good and some day, I’ll be better than my dad!

Okay, it’s time to wrap up now. It’s almost time for bed. I’ll send this in the morning.

Usopp

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Luffy! Luffy, where are you?!”

Usopp looked around the treehouse, trying to find his friend. While it wasn’t unusual for him to not be there, at the same time it felt as though something was off. The boy shuffled around in an attempt to find any of the hideout’s usual suspects and got nothing.

Huh.

Shifting his backpack, Usopp cautiously wandered the forest in search of his friend. It wasn’t really like Luffy to not be around during Supply Day, when he and Makino brought food and drinks and other things up to Curly Dadan and her bandit crew. He was getting pretty good at dodging the dangerous parts of the forest—the things that Luffy’s grandpa said would make him stronger—and was actually beginning to like the place.

Except, when he finally found Luffy, he and Ace were standing near a cliff, the younger sobbing as they watched the Grey Terminal smolder in the distance. A couple sticks tied together into a cross had been stabbed into the ground and something sickeningly familiar coiled in the pit of Usopp’s stomach.

“Luffy? Ace? Where is Sabo?”

Ace was the one to turn around first, his face more dour and serious than the other boy had ever seen. “The Celestial Dragons murdered him. They didn’t care that he was just a kid.”

“I hate them!” Luffy hissed. “I want Sabo back! We made a promise…!”

“That’s not gonna help!” Usopp snapped. He then gasped, shocked at his own outburst, and softened his tone. “Wanting a dead person to come back isn’t going to do anything, like when my mom died. You have to be brave…” He then looked down at his hands—chapped from experiments with his chemistry set and wiping tables at the bar—and began picking at his fingers. “You have to let it push you forward.”

“Smart,” Ace nodded. He watched as Usopp pulled some food from his backpack and offer it consolingly to Luffy. “You sure you don’t want to stay here with us? There’s an opening now and… well… Sabo did like you. He’d like you being our third.”

“I can’t replace him,” Usopp said, shaking his head. “Besides, I learn a lot in the village! I don’t want to stop learning because I’m out here fighting to survive!”

“Fair,” Ace chuckled. The smile on his face was genuine, which made Usopp feel better.

“Then you and I can go!” Luffy insisted. “Ace and Sabo were already going to leave me behind! I can be co-captains with Usopp!”

“Luffy, that’s a lot of responsibility,” Ace warned.

“Well, yeah, but I’m gonna get stronger! And stronger! And stronger! And Usopp’s gonna get smarter, and we won’t let anything beat us! We won’t let anything like what happened to Sabo happen again!”

“We’ll do our best,” Usopp agreed. “Because that’s what friends do, right?!”

“Shishishi—right!” Luffy grinned through the remainder of his tears and snack. He and Usopp clapped their hands together, sealing the deal.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was a busy afternoon in Foosha Village, with many ships at the port on their usual trade stops. In Party’s Bar, the young teenaged busboy hurried to clear tables and wipe down surfaces, moving quickly as he worked.

“I’m gonna go wash some dishes, Miss Makino,” Usopp said, presenting her with the full tub. His boss was mid-pour of some beer and nodded as she finished it off.

“Let me know when you’re done, alright?”

“Yes, ma’am!” He carried everything into the kitchen and found that the water from when he did glasses a few moments earlier was still hot. Taking advantage of that, he got right into washing dishes, not even noticing that someone else had slipped into the kitchen behind him.

“Usopp, I’m bored!” The teen nearly dropped the plate in his hands at the sound of his friend’s voice. Turning around, he saw that it was definitely his best friend and co-captain, having snuck his way in without a problem.

“Luffy, I’m working.” He put his hands on his hips and scowled. “Don’t you know what a job is?”

“Jobs are boring—let’s go have fun!”

Usopp stuck his head out the kitchen door with a scowl. “Miss Makino! Luffy’s being a bad influence!” The woman in question simply smiled as she dried a glass with an expert hand.

“You’ve been working very hard, Usopp,” she said. “I think you’ve earned a bit of time with Luffy being a bad influence. Go on.”

“…but…!”

“Go! Go!” She shooed them both out through the back, insisting she had things covered until dinner. The teens then found themselves wandering around, with Luffy eventually bringing them to sit on the cliff overlooking the harbor.

“What do you think they’re doing?” Luffy wondered, his gaze unfocused over the ocean. Usopp shrugged.

“Ace might have made it to Logue Town by now… and my dad’s in the Grand Line, so I dunno…” He looked at his friend and wondered. “Are you sure you want me to sail with you?”

“Well, yeah, of course I do,” Luffy insisted. “You’re my friend and co-captain! Like how Ace and Sabo were gonna be co-captains!”

“…except, Ace and Sabo were brothers—your brothers—and I’m just a kid who lives in town.”

“That doesn’t make it different.” Luffy then laid down, turning his face to the sky. “We’re gonna do great things once we get to the Grand Line!”

“The two of us?”

“Well, yeah, but of course we’ll have a crew first. I’m sure Shanks and your dad will laugh at us if it’s just us two in a dinghy.”

“Ha, yeah…” Usopp hugged his knees and frowned at the ocean waves. “Doesn’t mean it’s not scary.”

“Shishishi—of course it’s scary!” Luffy laughed. “That’s the whole point of adventure, isn’t it? Doing things and seeing places other people are too scared of? Being more free than anyone else out there?”

“I guess, but…”

“You worry too much, Usopp.”

“Maybe that’s because you don’t worry enough.”

“Mmm… probably. But that’s okay. We’re still the captains, and that means we’ll take care of the crew and each other. That’s what counts, right?”

“Yeah… I guess it does.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Usopp admittedly wasn’t entirely prepared for when he set out from Foosha Village with Luffy, but he didn’t think that things would be as crazy as they became.

Making a new friend while surviving a mace-wielding nutcase? Check.

Recruiting a bounty hunter to the crew so powerful he was referred to as Pirate Hunter? Check.

Letting their new friend go off to do something as insane as join the Marines?! Check.

Team up with a girl to fight against a murderous clown that could slice himself into tiny bits? There was not enough insanity Usopp could conjure to have predicted that one.

However, when the young woman said that she was a navigator, there was a single request he had for where they would go next.

“So, this is where you’re from?” Nami asked. She raised an eyebrow at the sleepy little town. Their small boats were moored by the harbor and they were now walking along the path that led into the village. “There’s not a lot to it, is there?”

“No, but it’s still important to me,” Usopp said. “Let’s go see what’s going on these days!”

“Are we going to visit Kaya?” Luffy asked. Zoro and Nami looked at each other, then Usopp.

“Who’s Kaya?” Zoro wondered.

“Oh, that’s just Usopp’s super-best friend when he lived here!” Luffy explained. Usopp began to blush, which made the other two smirk. “He only talked about her, like, all the time when we were growing up!”

“We wrote a lot after I left, so we’ve been keeping in touch.”

“Well then, let’s go meet her,” Nami grinned.

Usopp swallowed hard—that was the look of a woman on a mission, and he wasn’t entirely certain he liked said mission. The crew meeting Kaya was sort of the last thing he wanted to do at the moment. He knew it was inevitable, however, and continued to lead them into the village, where everyone stared at them with some form of curiosity or disdain.

“Some welcome wagon this is,” Zoro noted as someone closed some window shutters at the sight of them. “I’ve gotten better receptions in dive bars in my bounty hunter days.”

“Well, Dad wasn’t too popular with the village, and Mom defended him, so she wasn’t liked a lot either,” Usopp shrugged. “Before I met Luffy, I only ever had one friend…”

“…and that’s this Kaya…?” Nami finished. He shrugged—well, yeah. “Do you think she’d like to come along?”

“Probably not—she’s been sick since her parents died a couple years ago. Even if she wanted to go, she’d likely need a doctor to come along too, and I don’t think any of us are good enough at medicine for that.”

“No, I guess not,” Nami said. She then noticed that they had walked past the last house, continuing on the path. “Uh… Usopp? Where does your friend live?”

“Right outside the village,” he said. “It’s how we became friends—we both didn’t live in the main part of the village, so we were practically neighbors!”

Except the crew didn’t expect his “neighbor” to live in a literal mansion, where the door was answered by a tall butler with slicked-back black hair and eyeglasses.

“Miss Kaya is too ill to visit with the likes of you; now go away.”

“Who the hell are you, telling me Kaya’s not doing well?!” Usopp fired back. He glared at the man standing in the doorway to Kaya’s house, unsure of the aura he was giving off. “I’m the Dread Captain Usopp, and I’ve been Kaya’s best friend since we were kids!”

“I’ve never seen you before,” the man sneered. He looked over Usopp’s shoulder at the rest of the crew, who were standing a few paces back. “Now you hooligans better leave before I call the police!”

“Klahadore! Don’t!” It was then that Kaya appeared at his side, looking rather cross. She also looked extremely frail, which was a distinct change from the girl who Usopp used to climb trees and play tag with. “This is the friend I’m always writing to! It’s him!”

“Miss Kaya! You should not be up!”

“My friend is back! That’s reason enough!”

“This is a charlatan, not your friend; besides, you are in no state to receive visitors.”

“Huh…” Nami muttered. “This is more interesting than I thought.”

“I’ll say,” Zoro agreed. He glanced over at Luffy, seeing that the captain’s fist was clenched. “Oi. Let Usopp fight his own battles.”

“This guy pisses me off,” Luffy said. “Usopp lies, but not about important stuff. Kaya’s one of his most important people.”

“I don’t know if that’s up for us to determine,” Nami added.

“We’ve been writing to each other to years! I’m her friend!”

“Miss Kaya has been corresponding with a young man from the city with prospects and standing,” the butler sneered. “You look like someone with neither.”

“That’s what Mother and Father told you so that you wouldn’t worry!” Kaya said. “We knew your ship was sunk by pirates, and that’s what Usopp’s dad is, but he’s a good guy!”

“Pirates are nothing but cowards and scoundrels.”

“Mother always said that his father was unjustly blamed and his mother brave for loving him! She hated having to stand by and watch, but she remembered! They were brave and loving people!”

Usopp sucked in a breath—he never heard anyone describe his parents in such a way. If that was what Kaya was always told, then maybe… was his dad wrong about this place?

“I cannot let us waste more time with these degenerates,” the butler said.

“Klahadore, that is enough! I command you—!”

Everyone went quiet as the butler slapped Kaya across the cheek. She stared at him, eyes wide and mouth ajar. Usopp froze in shock, unable to move. Luffy made a motion to hit the guy back, but Zoro put a hand on his shoulder. Not yet.

“Now look at what you made me do,” the butler hissed. “Your parents left your care to me, and now…” He looked at his own hand in irritation, which he then turned to Usopp. “You four are not welcome here. Do not attempt to contact Miss Kaya any further. Good day.”

The door closed in Usopp’s face and the teen—still in shock—could only gape.

“What the fuck…?” he breathed. “Kaya…?” He pounded both fists on the door and screamed her name at the top of his lungs.

“Come on,” Nami said, gently pulling him from the door. “We’ll figure something out.”

“…but…!”

“She’s right; let’s go,” Luffy frowned.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was the dead of night as Usopp snuck onto the grounds of Kaya’s mansion, heading directly over to where he remembered her room was. He knocked gently on the windowpane and stepped back, waiting for her to get out of bed. Soon as she opened the window, he hugged her tightly, an act which she returned.

“I can’t believe he did that,” he whispered. He then held her at arm’s length and tried not to gasp at the sight of her in the moonlight. “Has he ever done that before?”

“No… and he’s been apologizing since,” she replied. “I… I should have told you sooner…”

“Come with us,” Usopp blurted out. “We can get you out of here, see the world…”

“You know I can’t…!”

“We’ll just get a doctor on the way; it’s a priority anyhow,” he said. Seas… had Kaya always been this pretty? “Please…”

“I’m too fragile…”

“…from staying in this room! Come with us! Let me take care of you! Don’t tell me after all you wrote that you don’t want to see what’s out there?”

“Usopp, you know I do, but…!” She was cut off by the sound of someone else in the house, just outside her door. “Quick! Hide!” Usopp was just out of sight when the butler entered the room. “Oh! Klahadore! You didn’t need to come in!”

“You didn’t answer and I was worried,” he said. “Why is the window open?”

“I was a bit warm,” she lied. “Besides, I’m a bit restless.”

“Are you thinking about that boy again?”

“My friend, even if you don’t believe me.”

“Your parents left you in my care—it would be a great dishonor to their memory if I didn’t question the boy and his intentions regarding you.”

“His intentions…? Klahadore, his intentions involve going out to sea and becoming a proud warrior. He made a promise to visit me before he did, and he tried, and you ruined it.”

“A pirate’s child turning pirate is worse than both those things put together. His blood is poisoned…”

“…only because you don’t know him. Goodnight, Klahadore. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Despondent, the butler left the room and closed the door behind him, his charge waiting to hear his footsteps down the corridor before she flung herself back at the window, seeing Usopp hugging the wall in terror.

“Give me three days,” she said. “That’s when I’ll have the opportunity to get out of here.”

The grins they shared were brighter than the moon and stars combined.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“I still don’t know why we’ve got to wait,” Zoro grumbled. He and the others were sitting up inside Usopp’s house he used to share with his mom, the night after he talked to Kaya. The co-captain poked his head out the window, checking to make sure no one else was around.

“That asshole butler of hers takes a weekly trip to the next town over to get certain groceries,” he said. “We’ll help her sneak out then and leave notes with another butler and the village leader to kick Klahadore out while she’s gone. Then the five of us can head to the Grand Line.”

“No offense, Usopp,” Nami said, “but what can she do other than weigh us down?”

“She won’t!”

“The witch has a point,” Zoro grunted. “She’s practically an invalid; you can’t take someone like that to the Grand Line and expect everything to turn out okay. Maybe if we already had a doctor…”

“Luffy, can you back me on this?” Usopp groaned. He looked over at the other teen, who had his nose in a book. “Luff, come on…”

“I was just looking at this book—it’s got pictures from before we met!” he said. Luffy brought the book over to the table and set it down, showing a photo of Yasopp, Banchina, and a baby Usopp. “That’s your mom, right?”

“Yeah,” Usopp nodded. Something tugged at his heart—it was the first time he’d seen a photo of his mom in a long while. He turned the page and found one of him and her together, from right before she got sick. “You know, I never thought about her being the brave one until Kaya said it earlier.”

“She risked begin shunned by the village by being with your dad, from what it sounded like,” Zoro shrugged. “That, if anything, takes guts.”

“It really does,” Usopp agreed. He tensed up and stared at the door—someone was coming. The four all readied themselves, only for three kids to burst into the house.

“Pirates!” they cried.

“Uh… yeah…” Nami grimaced. This was going to be tedious, wasn’t it? “We’re pirates.”

“No, not you pirates!” the kid with the glasses panicked. “You’ve not done pirate stuff!”

“Well, we’re gonna do pirate stuff if I’m gonna be King of the Pirates,” Luffy said plainly.

“No, you don’t get it: there’s pirates at the slopes!” the one with the green hat explained. “And they’re talking about killing Miss Kaya!”

“Her creepy butler is with them, and he says he wants to kill her himself!” Glasses said.

“We think they want to blame you for it!” the third boy said. “You’re pirates too, but you’re not mean! Doesn’t Miss Kaya like you?!”

“She does,” Nami said. She looked over at Usopp, who seemed absolutely terrified. “So, Co-Captain, what do you plan on doing?”

“We’re going to save Kaya!” he said, entire body shaking in nerves. Luffy and Zoro both grinned, as they knew that this meant they were going to be able to finally pick a fight.

It was on.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

When all was said and done, Usopp was sure he didn’t like cats to begin with anyhow. Adding the fact that Kaya’s asshole butler was a famous pirate captain that supposedly had been captured and executed years earlier and planned on killing her in order to get her money and retire? Definitely not one of the things he had expected when he set off from Foosha.

The butler crumpled to the ground unconscious, knocked out cold from Usopp’s Ten Ton Hammer. Kaya had been underneath him, making it so she had to avoid him falling on her. She looked up at her best friend and nearly cried.

“Usopp, I…!” Kaya gasped as he lifted her up to her feet. They looked at each other and giggled awkwardly. “Thank you.”

“A captain takes care of his crew,” he said. He then swallowed hard at the realization of what he just implied. “I mean, a pirate’s crew is their friends, and… you’ve always been my friend, and…”

With a smile, Kaya placed her finger on Usopp’s lips, silencing him. They then both leaned in and kissed one another, chastely yet by no means less exhilarating. The only thing that stopped them was hearing gagging noises—the Pintsized Pirate Patrol had found them.

“Oh, and what are you three going on about?” Usopp frowned. “Wait until you see someone so pretty you have no choice but to kiss them!”

“Adults are so gross!” Green Hat scowled.

“Uh-huh, sure,” Usopp deadpanned. He felt Kaya’s arms warp around his middle and he sighed, his arm going around her waist. “Now where’s the rope? We need to tie this creep up before he wakes up and tries to kill us all again!”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Are you sure you can’t come along?” Usopp asked. He was sitting with Kaya on the beach, watching as Luffy, Zoro, and Nami got a tour of the Going Merry. They were getting the caravel as a gift for saving the town from the Black Cat Pirates, which honestly took the entire village by surprise. The only reason they even believed the teens was the fact that Merry backed them at all, so it was his honor to present them with their reward.

“I’ve got to get better first, but I think I’m going to do something else,” she said. “I want to be a doctor.”

“That’s… very different from sailing with us,” he acknowledged. “I’m just curious… why?”

“…because one day you’re going to be dragging yourself back here and someone is going to need to patch you up,” she giggled.

“Ouch, okay, fair.” They both laughed before he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her lips. “As long as you’re going forward.”

“Yeah.” She saw how much fun the others were having with Merry and she nodded to gesture in their direction. “Come on—a captain needs to take care of his crew, right?”

“Right.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Miss Kaya, the newspaper.”

Months had gone by in Syrup Village, with Kaya making considerable improvement with both her condition and her studies. She was reading a chapter on phlebotomy over breakfast when Merry brought in the paper.

“Oh, thank you!” She took it from him appreciatively. “There’s so much happening that it’s difficult to keep up, isn’t it?”

“It can be,” he agreed. Merry watched as her brow furrowed at the front page. “What is it?”

“Usopp…” She went to the bounty poster inserts and pulled out a small pile dedicated to the Straw Hat Pirates. There was Luffy, Zoro, Nami… ah… wait… Sogeking?! “They all have bounties now.”

“Well, would you look at that; you’re right!” Merry laughed. “Declaring war on the World Government? Oh, he is going to need to get patched up next time you see him!”

Declaring war on the World Government in order to save his crewmate… he really was a brave captain after all.

[besidesitstoowarm]

"The Beast Below" thoughts

when i was in college i took a sci-fi class and once a week one of us had to find some movie clip/ep of tv/short story to make the rest of the class watch so we could discuss. stupid me, i thought watching this story, a bottle episode of the most famous sci-fi show in the world with a cool setting and interesting, debatable moral dilemma, might make a good topic of class conversation. instead it turned into mostly bitching about how much moffat sucks. anyway i love this episode

future spaceship london, some poor kid gets a bad grade and gets sent to what looks like an incinerator. amy floats out of the tardis w the doctor holding her leg, which makes for good trailer/promo imaging but also like, that's just amy. death wish amy. she does not give a fuck, she found her imaginary friend and she is riding him til the wheels fall off. figuratively but also literally

eleven tells amy they need to be like a nature documentary "i never get involved in the affairs of other peoples or planets" at this point my boyfriend goes "that's the only thing you do!!" eleven quickly deduces they're in a police state and says he's going to "stay out of trouble. badly."

amy goes to help a crying girl and gets almost attacked by a scorpion and abducted by the secret police. eleven investigates why there is no engine running and meets liz 10. amy is taken to a voting booth where "you have the right to know the truth....you may protest or forget" we see an evil montage in her eyes and she slams FORGET. the screen then shows her a video of herself saying to leave w the doctor immediately and don't let him investigate

he shows up and slams PROTEST cause he's messy like that. they go to the incinerator which is not an incinerator it's a mouth. and they get vomited. liz 10 reminds us that victoria knighted and exiled him on the same day and references the virgin queen debacle again "you bad, bad boy" so we confirm narratively she is in fact elizabeth the tenth, queen of this spaceship. she is so beautiful it makes me want to throw up. she's also basically just river song i must say

we go to the tower of london (dungeon) and learn the spaceship is on the back of a whale and they're torturing it to make it go. they can 1. keep torturing the whale, 2. free the whale which will doom the entire ship, or 3. lobotomize the whale so it's not in pain but the citizens live. eleven is FURIOUS at making this choice, they realize amy hit FORGET so that they could leave without eleven having to make this choice. it's rich. "you don't ever decide what i need to know" "nobody HUMAN has anything to say to me today" i don't know what i would do, in that instance!

luckily. amy remembers what liz said about the whale showing up. "it came bc it couldn't stand to watch your children cry" i want to cry just hearing this. "if you were that old and that kind and the very last of your kind, you couldn't just stand there and watch children cry" do you get it. it's fine they'll say it out loud later. she slams ABDICATE which was liz's version of protest and surprise, the whale does NOT abandon them! bc it loves them and wants to keep them safe! "you could've killed everyone on this ship" "you could've killed a star whale" i like that. eleven recognizes amy could have doomed a ship of people like herself, and she in turn recognizes he was ready to almost-kill an alien, the last of its kind. the same kind of agony, the same impossible choice

"all that pain and misery and loneliness and it just made it kind" Do You Get It. i like that amy was the one to have the 3rd-option-brain-blast, that was a very doctor thing to do. she fucked up and then she fixed it! i think this is a wonderful, empathetic story, and iirc the next one is pretty mid but i love the skittles daleks so lfg

[rippedstitch-s]

SEPTEMBER 20, 2009.

Under the cut is a free-write detailing a moment in time of Asa Holland's extended stay at St. Irene's. (You can see his full timeline broken down here. )

Please check trigger warnings under the cut before proceeding with reading any further.

tw // medical malpractice, mention of electro-shock therapy, suicide & self harm mention.

--- SEPTEMBER 20, 2009.

Around 2 PM, every day, is when a stretch of sunlight reaches in from the one window in the quiet white room and hits the edge of Asa's mattress.

It curves across his sterile bed, a faded blanket, and by around 3:13 is when it begins to climb the wall. He sometimes counts the seconds - jittery orbs unable to focus too long unless something is ticking in his head, again and again.

Either no focus at all, or far too much.

He's heard other patients complain about the loud ticking clocks in their rooms. Asa almost wishes for it - the sound would turn to white noise. Would distract him, keep him in time like a metronome.

Normally he can sit and write, or draw. And Asa's side of the room has stacks of papers, old scribbles and drawings. Some from years ago, and others from the few days before. He's allowed books, but reading can hurt his head sometimes. Allowed to sit in the rec room and watch movies - but there's only so many times he can watch the three VHSes they have in a never-ending cycle. Half the voices on the television sound warped and garbled, as if they've swallowed mouthfuls of buzzing bugs.

Today he's been 'advised' to stay in bed. And the sunlight continues to slide over his limp feet, his prone legs. He's tired. Always tired after his session of ECT. Always tired after his meds. Always tired. He wonders if others living their lives out in primary school, out at work, walking somewhere on a cool day.. are they all tired, too?

A jolt of residual pain hits his head and fingers cling into sheets. His eyes go blank and then he tries to re-focus. Knuckles ghostly - face gaunt.

Is it supposed to be this way?

How does one ask a doctor if he's doing his job correctly, when your whole life has been doctors and nurses and pitying faces and sympathetic mumbles under breaths?

They know best. They must know best, or else why would this be happening to him?

The thin pillow beneath his head is damp with tears. His eyes feel like they're vibrating in his skull.

Why is this be happening to him?

The shock of phantom lightning to his skull is gone, but it doesn't mean the soreness leaves. Instead he feels simultaneously weightless and heavier than he's ever felt. His body is forming with the stiff mattress. Melting, contorting. Maybe he is the bed now. If a nurse walked in, would she even see him? Or would he be part of the furniture?

What is the life of a bedframe?

St. Irene's rooms are so old, paint peeling and crackling, and he can easily imagine this bed has been here since it's inception back in 1854. Old, disgusting rusty metal. He hates the way it squeaks when they hold him down.

So fussy, aren't we?

He wonders about the patients in 1854. Were the beds shiny and new for them? Did the old ECT machine Dr. Hartley pats the top of every week like some trusty steed exist back then? It wouldn't surprise Asa at all. It looks akin to a medieval torture device. Knobs and buttons he doesn't understand. The 'older apparatus' behind it that Dr. Hartley never uses any more, that looks like some helmet from a dungeon. An artifact. Maybe back then, it was used for something more exciting. Typhus, tuberculosis. Tetanus.

Other T-named diseases... there had to be more. Trypto... Tryptomania? Trythalagia? Tryanasis?

His focus stills on an old nail on the wall, above the empty bed on the other side of the small room.

His roommate is down the hall, watching a film. Asa's cheeks are still wet - eyes must be gummy and glassy too, though it's been a bit since he's looked in a mirror. Wouldn't want to anyways. Head is scratchy from the dull razor they used to shear him earlier.

Easier to get to that pesky head.

So focused on not pulling hairs before the ECT.

So kind of them.

He's motionless except for the occasional twitch of a foot or finger. He barely even blinks.

Just looks at the nail.

It's only 4:07 PM. He wonders if they will notice the nail, and if it will get confiscated.

Or is it enough to stab into the side of his own neck. Or maybe that spot, that burn, where his temple aches so much.

He wonders how long until he's tired enough to at least try it.

-----

[repairingtomorrow]

Genji Shimada (Origin Story)

(Warning, this story is dark: He does hurt his cybernetic arm and it could be considered self harm. Please let me know if I need to tag anything)

To Master List

"Every living thing longs to be whole. Every living thing yearns to defy death. If from death you returned, yet the part you loved best did not...what then?"

I wake up from a dreamless sleep. I could not move except for my left arm and my head. Tears pricked my eyes as overwhelming pain came from, well, everywhere. I wanted to cry out in pain, but I couldn't due to the machine that was helping me breathe. I could tell my face was wrapped in bandages, from my jaw to the right side of my face. "Genji." I let out a pained grunt as I turned my head to the voice. It was a blonde woman with blue eyes. She had concern etched onto her face, but she flashed me a false smile.

I coughed into the tubing, and I hated the way it scraped against my throat. "Genji, I'm Doctor Ziegler. We're here to help you." She paused, glancing up to the spectators in the operating theater. She let out a tired sigh and looked back to me. She sat down on a chair and pulled herself close to me. "You've been through a terrible ordeal. Overwatch rescued you, and our medical team stabilized you." The doctor paused and took a deep breath. When she said that, the realization hit me. I survived the fight with my brother. What a cruel twist of fate.

I tried to glance down at the rest of me, but it was covered with a blanket. I could only imagine what it--I--looked like underneath. "Genji." The doctor repeated, trying to get my attention. I peeled my eyes away and looked to her again. She held my left hand and squeezed it. "We need you to make a decision..." She trailed off, looking guilty. "You can join us, and we'll bring you back to full health. You can walk, talk, grip your weapon again." She stopped, but I know what she was thinking. 'You can survive this.' So what, if I don't take this opportunity, will I be left to rot and die? Or if I do take this opportunity, I either end up alive with whatever they've done to me, or I die. Not much of a choice.

"Do you understand what's going on?" Doctor Ziegler asked, her voice gentle. I did my best to nod and she seemed to understand it. "So, do you agree?" I didn't really understand the point of asking me. I'm fucking dying either way, did they need my consent to cover their asses? Did they want me to sign a damn form? I shuddered, then nodded. "Alright then. I'm going to have to stamp your thumb on this form then. Closest thing to a signature." She explained, grabbing the ink and the form. My thumb was pressed into the ink, then onto the paper. Satisfied, she put the form away into a folder, then walked over to my I.V drip. She grabbed a syringe and medication, then filled it up, and put it in the opening. I grew drowsy as she spoke. "I'll put you to sleep, and we'll start to work on you tomorrow. Good luck to the both of us." I drifted off, going back into that dreamless sleep.

I went through so many surgeries, all over the course of six months. Rebuilding and replacing every cut bone, every decayed muscle, every piece of dead skin. I would like to say I was under for all of it, but I wasn't. There were days or even weeks where I was just barely awake. 'To keep him from having complications' they claim. I think it was just to torture me. So I can see the damage. For 6 months, I was forced to watch them cut pieces off of me, and replace them with metal and synthetics. And for a couple of months, it was painful. I was not allowed pain medication--and I didn't want it either--due to my previous habits. But they were forced to after a near death experience. Truth be told, it's a miracle I survived.

Then, I truly woke up. I took a deep breath for the first time in ages. I felt...refreshed, cool, relaxed. I wasn't in pain, yet, but I felt a strange dullness. I could tell I was sitting on something soft, yet I couldn't tell you what it was without seeing it. I opened my eyes, and my vision felt sharper than before--I never had a hard time seeing, but there was suddenly more clarity. "Vitals are good. Patient is awake, time for the movement test." I heard a familiar voice say. It was the doctor. "Genji, can you move your left hand and fingers?" I follow her instructions, though my reaction felt slow. "Slow acting, not surprising due to him still waking up." She said to herself, or perhaps to an audience? "Move your right hand please." I obeyed, not looking at my hand. I felt the vague sensation of movement, but she seemed satisfied. I followed the rest of her instructions, and I passed the test.

The doctor left the room, and it seemed I was left alone. I looked around to get my bearings. It was the operating theater, with all the lights on. The walls were made of metal: you could see your reflection, not with perfect clarity like a mirror though. I eventually sat up and swung my legs over, closing my eyes due to pain and stiffness. I slowly opened my eyes again: I wasn't sure if I wanted to look at myself, but I knew I had to eventually. I looked at my left arm: it was littered with cuts, still red and raw, but not quite needing to be bandaged anymore. I felt a pit form in my stomach, and I looked at my right arm. It wasn't human, not anymore. The top of my hand was black, with small slits in it for something. My fingers were gray, and I could see metallic cords running through my knuckles. The palm of my hand was a harsh red, a stark contrast to the rest of it. My eyes traced up my arm: my forearm was black and segmented into two pieces. The lower half, after I felt it, moved to reveal two white metal bars in my arm. I looked closer and saw cords underneath them--my "muscles" perhaps? I closed the hatch and looked at the rest of my arm. It was red and black, but looked more like skin compared to my forearm.

My heart began to race. What did the rest of me look like? I already felt sick looking at my shoulder. I looked down to the rest of me. My legs were gone, replace with plastic. I focused on my feet first: They were shaped like a foot, with toes and all, but it was white with a piece of black plate on top of them, and a hinge connected with cords for ankles. I had knives--which were covered in a plastic sheathe--attached to the back of my calves; they were black as well, with red accents. My knees didn't even exist, they were just white hinges, connecting to my black synth thighs. I had cords at my hip joints, acting as the muscle. My blood--whatever amount I had left--grew cold. My legs were gone.

I fought tears, and looked at my stomach. My left hand felt it; it was soft, since it was a synthetic skin, like my thighs and upper arm. I felt more of me, and my face heated up when I touched the edge of my crotch plate. I grew embarrassed for finding that, though I suppose the doctors tried to make my body have as many normal parts--synthetic or otherwise. I touched my chest, cords extending from the scarring of the human side of me to the metal side. Cords directly to my heart, perhaps? Or maybe just where blood flows. I didn't really care to know. I glanced behind me, at the metal wall to see the reflection of my back. A cybernetic spine greeted me, with cords wrapping around it. It disappeared about halfway down my back, and I noticed more cords connecting from my human parts. There wasn't much of my left shoulder remaining.

I looked closer at my reflection, and I saw my face. The first thing I noticed was my jaw and my mouth. I distinctly remember my jaw being broken in the altercation, and it apparently was beyond repair. The skin on my jaw, chin, and my bottom lip were replaced with black synthetic skin, and my jaw and chin bone was presumably mended with metal. Next, I noticed my eyes. Instead of normal gray eyes, my pupils were red and glowing. I still had my gray, but it was subtle unless you were looking close. I always hated my eyes--the lack of color and the fact that they reminded my father of my mother just made me detest them. But that didn't mean I wanted them to be like this. Then, I saw my scars. They were reminiscent of kind from electricity and fire. My brother burned my face; I remembered that too.

Rage and despair boiled up within me. I looked inhuman, unnatural. I was turned into a monster--no, a living weapon. I hated it. I hated my reflection, the way nothing felt right underneath me, the way pain crept up through me as I shifted. And I hated the way I was just left alone to see what had happened to me, like I was some experiment that they wanted to see the result and reaction. My skin crawled, and the part of my body where flesh meets metal itched and it irritated me. After several uncomfortable moments, I realized something: Past all my rage, irritation, pain, discomfort, disgust...there was an emptiness. Like a part of me was missing. It was not just my arm, my legs, my body missing. It wasn't just my humanity, it was my soul. In those few profane moments, I reached for my dragons. I wanted something, anything, to prove that I was still human. That I was still me. But they were gone, the manifestations of my soul, like they were never there. Nonexistent. Did he somehow take them too?

I tried to stand, to get off the damn hospital bed, but my legs gave out underneath me. I let out a frustrated roar, surprising myself at how metallic it sounded. My true voice was gone as well, and it only made me angrier. Tears flowed from my eyes and they were stained with red; irritation from the new optics, perhaps. What I was going through in this moment was humiliation and dehumanization. I wanted to lash out, and the only thing available for me to attack...was myself.

I opened my arm up, and I snaked my fingers past the metal bars and coiled the cords around them. And I just fucking pulled. It took quite a bit of strength, but once the first few cords came out, sparking and dripping with blood and oil, the consecutive ones were easier. It hurt, but felt so, so good. Like relieving tension from a wound up spring. "I'm not human anymore! I'm a monster!" I kept screaming it in my native tongue. Apparently the people watching me had enough.

Three men came in, two of which I knew, and the other I didn't. Cassidy held my cybernetic arm down while Reyes pinned my human one. The third man pinned my legs, so I couldn't hurt the others or myself. "Calm down, Genj!" Cassidy shouted as I tried to shake myself free. After a few minutes, I wore myself out. I couldn't fight it anymore. This is what I am now. They let me go, and I instinctively curl up into a ball, holding my torn up arm out. It was trembling, the nerves frayed. The two older men stood up, and the unknown man gestured for someone to enter. Cassidy stayed next to me. "We're gonna have Angie patch you up, alright?" His accent was soothing, and he ran a hand through my hair in an attempt to keep me calm.

Doctor Ziegler came in with her tools. She took the torn out wires and reconnected them, and each connection stung. But I didn't move nor react. I had no energy, no fight left in me. Reyes and Cassidy looked at me with guilt and pity, while the doctor looked a bit upset that I messed up her handiwork. And the other man--one who I later learned was Commander Morrison--he didn't seem to care; devoid of any sympathy. And I didn't want it.

I just wanted what I lost: I wanted my humanity back.

(Thanks for reading. The beginning quote, I did not come up with it. It is from a game called Warframe, and I just wanted to use it bc it felt fitting for Genji. Also, he knows Cassidy and Reyes from before his incident because he was working with them to take down the Shimadas. I was going to write about that, but it ended up being really boring; I might go back to it later since it's important to his story.)

[stopmyhearts]

continued my first time listening to gallifrey with spirit

Why aren’t they talking? 🥺

Oh Leela is angry

Oh I like this, Leela’s so assertive rn

I could write essays on this speech it is so good

She wants to leave?!

No I want Leela to be happy

Everybody should love and appreciate Leela

Then so be it I like that she accepts what Leela says but she’s doesn’t like it

Brax made her take time off 😂 love that

What the fuck is that singing?

They’re going on holiday? Yay

I love that she just takes Leela on vacation

Leela’s wonder 🥹

Romana sounds so happy

Romana laughing >>>>>>>>>>>

it makes me sad that Leela keeps thinking she’s just there to be useful

you know what, i did not expect them to be so in a relationship here

You’re not stupid Leela yesss I love it when she affirms that

I love how she says Leela

A friend yay she admitted it! This is a nice contrast to the last episode

Someone I have come to trust 🥹

Be nice to Leela random people 😡

Stop calling her an asset Romana

She broke the window this is wonderful

I will never be over this

never

A bird?!

This is amazing

The laughing >>>>>>>>

it’s so delightful

Oh they are so wonderful

this is the best scene in all of gallifrey

You mean it? 🥺

Interesting that the sun is male for Leela’s culture

This is so amazing

I love their relationship

They complement each other so well

anyway they’re in love and you can’t convince me otherwise

I like their conversations

Oh Romana is being so whiny

You have a poetic wisdom 🥹

We have rested long enough 😆

That’s interesting stuff on time lord society

Romana being so whiny again and Leela so alive and joyful it’s so wonderful

It’s so interesting to see their worldviews

their conversations are so delightful

Romana getting so exasperated 😆

I love Leela being spiritual in this way

Oh Leela 🥺

It’s so interesting to explore Leela’s place in this world

Leela letting Romana find her

I’m sorry I quarreled with you 🥹

because I don’t know the way back myself Romana 😆

Which of us is wiser?

I love that Romana knows precisely how long Leela has been there

Oh that’s interesting

Leela becoming time lord-ish is so compelling

they’re so philosophical

I never wanted to come home oh Romana

I love Leela’s faith in Romana

Her pet 😡 I’ll hit you

Tbh I’m not invested in this subplot

What the fuck

Leela’s relationship with Andred is actually very interesting

But I think she should just stay with Romana, let herself be messed up by a lesbian situationship instead

What is it!

Romana sounds so soft when she thinks Leela is afraid of her

Leela’s view on regeneration is interesting

Regeneration in general is so compelling

Why his ego is the size it is 😆

Although there were times 🤨

Oh that’s so poetic

I like that Leela admits that she doesn’t know things it’s such a contrast to the time lords

the same can’t be said for him oh she’s pissed at getting interrupted

You’re an imbecile 😆

Romana your doctor is showing

Why is he not turning off those engines

the sound design in this scene is not optimal

Leela has our confidence

That’s some pretty intense whimpering

Who the fuck is that

Leela is so kind

Romana seeing her body as a machine is interesting though, especially considering she was tortured for twenty years

Oh that’s weird stuff

I like that she just started calling him Brax full time

She’s so manipulative sometimes I love it

Complicated plan

Because today is my day 😆

Romana this isn’t a competition

Oh at least try to enjoy it

Lalla Ward your voice

Those tanks sound amazing rn

Okay something is weird

Really weird

Oh are they changing bodies?

there is a wild woman inside me

Time lord senses oh that’s cool

They’re mixing themselves up

Oh that’s interesting

I love this

This is so ripe for character exploration

I wonder if Romana being dissassociated from her body is a Time Lord thing or a Romana thing

A certain unpolished charm 😆

Oh they’re both so good at acting each other’s characters

I like this

oh do get a grip 😆

And we give thanks that I can open my own door 😆

Okay that’s an interesting theory

But why would someone do this

Okay but what happened then

I like their role swap

Your enthusiasm is overwhelming

They’re so good at making noises

What’s happening

Oh this is horrifying

stay with me Romana 🥺

don’t leave me here alone!!! 🥺

Oh was it all a dream?

What the fuck

That’s fucked up

Romana 😆

I love that part of it still sticks after

Oh they’re so sweet together

All just because of some herbs this is so fucked up 😆

This is so loving

I love them

She’s so

I do not wish to be alone

There will be a place for you with me

Them <3

That is a much more beautiful view on regeneration

Oh fuck hallan

Beat him up Leela

Oh she doesn’t like him good for her

I like that this really went deep into Leela’s character

It is not easy is there something you want to tell us Leela

Oh that’s some interesting stuff

where could she have gotten that from? 😆

[hikarry]

Do you wear the sunglasses all the time just because of Crowley and liking to look like a douchbag? Maybe you're taking method acting too far, sweetheart

You know, I saw your ask back when you originally sent it last month, but I was waiting to get out of the slump I was to actually answer you with a good dose of humor and a lil pat in the back

It so happened I saw your ask again today and it ticked the lil scratch in my brain that's squirming to be an absolute asshole

Will I regret answering this when I have my emotions in heat like a starved dog? Most probably. Worst case scenario, I delete this and we move on. You're just a lil guy asking another lil guy that has no weight over the world something dumb.

So, answering you directly: yes, but actually no

In the beginning it was a joke I had with some friends: Get the hair done, get the sunglasses, enjoy yourself.

Nice plan, solid plan. I liked the plan

I don't give a single fuck if people think I'm a douchebag or an asshole for wearing bloody sunglasses inside, for God's sake. What a stupid thing to fucking care about

So, I was just about to have some fun

And yet, it quickly stopped being fun

A week before getting the sunglasses I actually went to the Oftalmology to get my eyesight checked cause I hadn't been back in...oof...almost 8 years?

Exams were done. My eyesight was worst than before - well, yes, Spencer, no surprise. You haven't checked yourself in almost 10 years, what the absolute fuck did you expect you fucking idiot

And then, I was asked: How much do you suffer with headaches?

Bro, what a dumb question for a doctor to ask, eh? Headaches are headaches. Everyone has them often

Turns out, that's not actually normal, eh? Spencer boy has bloody cataracts.

Great

I mean

Sure

I can live with that

"Have you considered wearing sunglasses more often?"

Well, funny you say that, doc. Cause I have the perfect obsession to hide behind as an excuse to do exactly that

But wait wait wait

Spencer, sit down

"Dear boy, come here". I am a softy for people calling me dear, let me tell ya, and of course I approached the doctor. He showed me a thing. A thing he said "You're coming next month to make more exams. Be sure to be the first in line cause these might take a while. But, don't worry. Probably nothing serious. For better or for worse: keep your sunglasses nearby." about

Okay, cool. I mean, having cataracts is cool and all, but now I have to wait a month before opening Mystery Door #3? Unfair, doc, but alright

Ding dong. Spencer spent 8 hours running around followed by 2 doctors, being pushed into chairs and having greens and whites and reds and oranges into my bloody eyes like I was in a mad psychedelic trip

They didn't tell me SHIT

Doc was all smilies and "everything is absolutely okay" and patting my back when I said my head was hurting like God herself had been hitting my head for the past 8 hours with a full on tree with 0 mercy towards the poor

It's fine. Everything is okay

Until doc holds my arms and apologizes

"I can't do more. I'm gonna send you to another specialist that can actually take a look at it."

I'm sorry, babe. Didn't you just spend 8 bloody hours telling me repeatedly everything was okay? Eh? What? Did yall figure out I'm the new Virgin Mary and need a doctor to take a babe out of me in the next month or so?

The very nice young man that spent 8 torturous hours guiding me from exam to exam, looking in my eyes like no other lover has ever done before - and he was kinda cute too. Can't complain there - followed me like a bloody dog the whole time. He barely talked, and I was so exhausted I stopped caring

"If he doesn't have symptoms, I can't just send him to make an exam like that."

"Yes, but. He might not have symptoms now and start having them tomorrow. His brain is a ticking time bomb."

Now, don't get me wrong

I'm very flattered. My brain has been called many things through the years, but never something as badass as a ticking time bomb

The guy grabbed doc by the arm and took him outside the exam room. Shit is, you bloody idiots, I can fucking hear you

I'm walking my merry way into going blind, not fucking deaf, you fucking morons

The dude started fighting with my doctor because "it's a ticking time bomb"

Ticking time bomb

Ticking time bomb

Ticking time bomb

Those 3 fucking words have been playing jenga inside my veins for the past 3 hours

Right now, I'm sitting at a bar uptown - God bless the Irish Pubs Amen Lord - and I'm drinking a fantastic whiskey while I keep watching the guy whispering with the woman where you mark the appointments to make it quick. It's urgent. December is too late. Do something. It's too late

Now, you can be a dear and ask me: what is late, exactly?

I wish I had an answer. I don't. They gave me the papers and the exams and I threw them in my backpack and I've been reading Fahrenheit 431 in a dimlit pub trying to figure out how the absolute fuck am I going to get money to solve or check or cure or whatever the fuck can possibly be wrong with my brain

So yeah

Sunglasses? I need them or else I have very mean headaches and, apparently, as a safeguard for whatever is in my eye that's fucking my brain or vice versa

However, it's for Crowley. It began with Crowley. It began as a joke. As a bit of fun amongst friends. And I won't let whatever the fuck the ticking time bomb is gonna spoil my fucking fun with my fucking favorite character and fuck you if you think I'll let yall lil people with sand for brains drag me down for enjoying myself doing whatever the absolute fuck I want with this ticking time bomb as my new found background

Thank you, Crowley, for being the perfect scape goat. I never loved you more, my man

With all that said, my organism for some reason doesn't let me get drunk for as much as I try, so getting absolutely hammered isn't an option. So, I'll be around. Might take a small break to deal with whatever the fuck God decided to throw at me this time

None of you will notice I'm gone. My queue is fat and ready for harvest

Most probably none of you will even notice when I return, because I won't announce it like I'm the King of England returning from his Christmas Dinner. No one cares. I'm just a stupid guy that writes stupid gay shit and simps over a Scottish dude

But, baby boy, here's your answer. Enjoy it while it's up. I know myself, I know I will probably delete it when I come to it

So yeah, douchebag? Absolutely, my dear. Come and kiss me if you like it

[naminethewriter]

Entertaining the Sick

Dukeceit Week is back again 🥳 And I’m totally prepared this time 😎 This story is based on the incorrect quote form the taking requests video Thomas posted last year. It was just too perfect an opportunity to resist. Hope you enjoy 💛💚

@dukeceitweek

Here on Ao3

Masterpost | Dukeceit Week 2022 Masterpost

Summary: Remus had his appendix removed and now he and Janus waited for the doctor. Remus gets bored and coxes Janus into playing a game with him.

“I love sleepovers.”

 Janus looked up from the book he’d been reading while they waited for the doctor. Remus just had his appendix removed and the narcotics had worn off enough that he was lucid. Well, mostly.

 “This isn’t a sleepover; you are in a hospital, darling,” he informed his husband, who didn’t look convinced.

“Then why do I have this nightgown?”

 “That’s a hospital gown.”

 “Truth or dare.” It seemed Remus wasn’t willing to listen to reason and instead just decided this was a sleepover anyway. Not that Janus minded, as long as he stayed in bed. So he put his book away and gave his husband his full attention.

 “Dare.” Remus grinned, delighted.

“Let’s see…”

 “Before you say much more, a few rules, darling.”

 “I hate rules.”

 “I know but this is important considering your circumstances. Rule 1: I won’t go anywhere where I can’t see this room in case the doctor comes. 2: You are not allowed to get up. 3: Nothing that will get me banned from the hospital. Okay?”

 “Ugh, fine, you party pooper.”

 “Thank you, darling.”

 “Then, as your first dare, you have to try and get the phone number of the next nurse that comes in here.”

 “Very well. Until then, truth or dare?”

 “Truth!”

 “Did you burn a hole into my spare gloves?”

 “It was an accident!”

 “I figured as much. You owe me a new pair.”

 “Sure. Continuing, truth or dare?”

 “Dare.”

 “Text Roman that I’m in critical condition.”

 “Sorry to disappoint, but he already knows you got through your surgery without complication.”

 “Damn it… Then text him I’ll need to stay here longer than we thought and don’t clarify if he asks for details.”

 “That I can do.” He was about to hit send and show Remus when a nurse entered the room. She was around their age and smiled kindly in a way that reminded them of Patton. Janus glanced at her hand and didn’t see a wedding ring. He could work with that.

 “Sorry to disturb you. I’ll just have a quick look at your vitals. The doctor will be here soon, but things are a bit hectic at the moment,” she explained, coming over to the bed and checking the IV drip. Remus and Janus let her work in peace and as she excused herself, Janus hurried after her, winking at his husband as he closed the door behind him.

 Around two minutes later he came back, flashing a piece of paper with a phone number on it.

 “Damn, Janny. You’re too good at this.”

 “Thank you very much. Now let me just send this text to Roman and then it’s your turn again.”

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 They continued playing for a while. The doctor came by around thirty minutes after the nurse did and she couldn’t find anything odd, so she assured them that Remus would be able to leave the day after tomorrow at the latest. The game didn’t end there however, and soon visiting hours were almost over.

 “One last round, darling. Truth or dare?”

 “Dare.”

 “Text your brother and tell him you made me send that message. He’s blowing up my notifications.”

 “Yeah, okay. I tortured him enough.” Remus pulled out his phone and did as he was told. Immediately after he got a reply that was just the middle finger emoji. Then a second one that said that Roman wouldn’t talk to him anymore. Which was an empty threat, Remus knew, but it still hurt a little bit.

 It must’ve shown on his face because Janus reached over and grabbed his hand.

 “Everything alright?”

 “He’s pretty pissed.” He showed Janus the message and his husband hummed.

 “That was to be expected. He was pretty worried about you.”

 “Yeah…”

 “Leave him alone for tonight and apologize tomorrow. He’ll have cooled off by then.” Remus sighed.

 “What would I do without you, Janny?”

 “Live in a dumpster, I presume.”

 “Oh, that sounds rad.”

 “I’m sure it does. I do need to go now, darling, before they’ll kick me out.”

 “Let me ask one more time?” Janus had already stood up but seeing his pouting husband always made him weak. He sat back down.

 “Alright. One last one.” Remus cheered.

 “Truth or dare?”

 “Truth.”

 “Oh wow, that’s a first.”

 “It’s quicker,” Janus shrugged. Remus hummed in acknowledgement but remained silent otherwise, thinking of a question.

 “What… what did you do to get that nurse’s phone number?”

 The message from his brother must’ve hit Remus worse than Janus had thought, considering how small he sounded just then. He had a habit of getting insecure whenever Janus flirted too heavily with others which had let to some strenuous moments during their relationship since it was something Janus did almost unconsciously sometimes. Talking himself out of bad situations had been a stable of his childhood and recognizing just how much it hurt his then boyfriend took some time. But they had worked through it and most of the time Remus could handle it but tonight was different, apparently.

 Janus squeezed his husband's hand and gave him a soft smile.

 “I simply told her the truth. That you dared me to get her number and that I would appreciate it if she could write one down for me. I don’t think it’s a real one.”

 “Oh,” Remus said, also smiling softly now. “Thank you.”

 “No problem, dear. Now get some rest. I would love to take you back home with me tomorrow.”

 “Yeah, I’d like that, too.” He yawned. “Night, Janny. I love you.”

 “I love you, too, darling.”

[bookishofalder]

Unexpected

Spencer x FEM!Reader

Summary: In which Spencer and the reader have too much fun together on New Year's Eve. Leaving them both questioning their friendship, and Spencer watching the reader's weird behaviour.

Warnings: TW-Pregnancy, brief smut, drinking, CM style crime scene, fainting, hospital, language, fluff and emotions. WC-3,882

A/N-Wrote something sweet and fluffy about our favourite Doctor. Prequel here.

Spencer was watching you. He could tell you hadn’t noticed, despite being a competent profiler yourself. Which was why he was becoming exceedingly concerned.

Something about you was...off.

He hadn’t pinpointed what, just that you had been acting different for about two weeks now. As your best friend, he knew you too well to simply brush it off. And while he was hesitant to ask you, he couldn’t help but watch you for signs, anything to give away what might be going on.

After New Year's Eve, a night the two of you had agreed what you had done together had been between two friends, who had been drinking and who were both entirely single. 

You had been the one to throw a party for bringing in the New Year, insisting on the entire team coming because you wanted to show off your beautiful condo, your tasteful decorating skills. Spencer spent a lot of time at your condo, often staying the night on your ridiculously comfortable couch, and so it was no surprise that he enjoyed indulging a little too much on beverages that night, and subsequently remained overnight.

It had surprised you both, when he had closed the door on Hotch and Rossi-that last two to leave the celebration-and the quiet he’d been craving for a while settled and he pulled you into a tight embrace, his lips pressing to your head in an uncommonly affectionate display.

“You know, I think it’s customary to kiss someone when you ring in the New Year, (Y/N),” He had muttered, unthinking. The walls he built around his feelings for you, which extended beyond friendship, were thin-weakened by the alcohol.

Leaning your head back to meet his eyes, glassy and wide-eyed, you giggled, “I always thought that was silly, meant for couples to just show off how happily domestic they are!” You rolled your eyes, but you hadn’t moved out of his arms.

Spencer had cleared his throat, “It can be...friends, who care deeply, too.” He replied lamely.

And normally, this sort of conversation might have had you ruffling his hair before you moved away laughing. Not that he’d ever say anything like this if he was sober.

Instead, you had dropped your smile and something...different had glinted in your eyes before your tongue had wet your plump lips. That action had a strong effect; Spencer’s wall simply bursting open. He had pressed his lips to yours with a groan, gathering you closer in his arms. When you reacted in earnest to this, moaning softly, he lost every ounce of willpower to hold back, to stop.

But you had never asked to stop.

No, you had followed him down every path, eager and smiling, falling into bliss without hesitation. Spencer had never felt so whole, so safe. If it had been a movie, the viewers would have said it wasn’t sex, these two were making love.

But the alcohol, it had played its part in this crossing over the line, blatant disregard for the friendship you both cherished so immensely. It had aided the longing, the hidden feelings and tempted you both into relinquishing that control, that steady and routine pace of life.

Best friends fall in love. They make love. Then date, right?

Only that wasn’t the case here. You and Spencer had woken in the late morning hours of the first day of the year wrapped in one another’s arms. Naked, evidence of your activities abundant in your bedroom, on your skin where he had bite gently before laving his tongue to soothe. And you had looked at one another and tried to grip the slippery memories, bring them to the surface, but the alcohol had burned away too much of them...so you agreed, simultaneously, that these things can happen, that neither of you was upset and things could go back to normal.

It hadn’t even been awkward, and that was something that Spencer could never forget. Cuddled together, facing one another in your bed, you had simply talked. About the night, about how little you both remembered, about how you had both enjoyed it, how you loved one another as best friends should. He could have told you he was desperately in love with you, but he didn’t. You followed each other into an agreement that all was well, and nothing would ever come between you.

That had been over a month ago. Even with the limited memories, Spencer still replayed what he could in his mind over and over. The way you looked when your dress hit the floor, how you had let him lead, the expression on your face when you climbed into his lap and sunk onto him, taking every inch while his name spilled from your lips like a song. How it felt like the two of you were made for each other, your sloppy, lazy movements matching in the glow of too many vodka shots and margaritas. Blank spaces were there, but he did remember the moment you both reached your peak, together, moving your hips to meet and draw the feeling of oblivion out as long as you could.

He remembered saying he loved you. He just didn’t know if you had heard him.

Standing in the conference room of the Central Florida Police Department, on a case, Spencer was watching you from across the room. Listening as Hotch spoke, but his eyes assessing the way your hand move to the back of your neck as if you had a headache, the surprise in your face when you noticed you were sweating. You pulled a hairband from your pocket and secured your long locks into a casual ponytail.

Nothing had changed between Spencer and you since New Year's Eve. You still spent all of your free time together, still watched Doctor Who and went to bookshops for hours, shared a double room on cases. And yet, two weeks ago Spencer noticed small changes, things that as a profiler he knew not many would also notice, and yet still concerning. He couldn’t even pinpoint the cause, maybe that was why he was so focused on figuring you out. Because while you smiled at him the same, laughed with him, hugged him-you still didn’t seem yourself.

You had been having headaches more frequently, a little pucker between your brows appearing before you inevitably gave in and took Tylenol. You weren’t eating as much, but you were drinking a lot of water-that was something even Hotch had noticed, commenting one day when you had slipped back into a meeting with a refilled water bottle in hand. You had laughed it off, unbothered.

But Spencer had frowned, his suspicions rising.

There were more subtle changes as well, your skin had seemed clearer but your cheeks were always flushed. You had always been a good hugger, but you didn’t pull others as close to you as you usually would, occasionally wincing even when you thought no one was paying attention. The final straw that convinced him something was going on was your moods.

You had always been a very even-tempered person, especially at work. While you had strong emotions, you kept them at bay as needed. But he had counted exactly eight incidents where he saw your eyes fill with tears that did not warrant those reaction-emotional commercials or a kind word from Hotch on performance. You had blinked them back each time, just as surprised to find yourself crying as he was. And suddenly, you had a bit of a temper too, something that reared its ugly head in the forms of road rage, or impatience with local police staff. Morgan had joked that you were finally growing into your bossy side, but Spencer didn’t agree.

He just didn’t know what the hell was wrong with you. And he was afraid to upset you, to cross a line, if he asked you. You told him everything; whatever this was, he could wait for you to talk to him. At least, that’s what he constantly told himself.

“Thanks, Garcia, can you send-?” Hotch was saying, but Garcia cut him off with her usual cheeriness.

“Coordinates already sent to your phones, Garcia over and out!”

The line went dead and Hotch ended the call, tucking his phone into his pants, “Okay guys, gear up.”

Things moved at a regular pace after that, the team ready to bring in a dangerous unsub, who may or may not be at the house they were about to raid. Gearing up, Spencer and you were separated in different cars but teamed together once you were on location.

Standing in the mid-afternoon Florida heat was uncomfortable, the house they were surrounding had no trees, no shade to attempt to find reprieve. And based on the condition of the exterior, Spencer very much doubted this home had central A/C circulating fresh, cool air. You stood next to him in your vest, eyes focused on the house before you glanced up to meet his eyes, give him a gentle smile.

“Ready, doc?” You cheeked.

Spencer returned your smile, “Should be a good opportunity to see some of the potential beach houses we could rent for a vacation.” He gestured at the dilapidated bungalow. You giggled, lowering your head to press to his arm in an attempt to hide your silliness, keeping your voice low.

“Spence, there’s no beach here.”

“Then why in all the world is the street called Beach Street?” He deadpanned.

At this, you snorted, one hand gripping his arm now, trying your best to hide away from Hotch, who was still talking to the Sargent and hadn’t noticed the exchange. Spencer smiled, a rush of relief running through him every time you acted like yourself. He hoped he was just seeing things that weren’t there because of what had happened on New Year's Eve, his mind trying to torture him for it all getting so out of control. You were fine.

“Alright, let’s go!” Hotch barked, instantly snapping you both back into work mode.

Spencer had been right, unfortunately. You and he entered through the back door, which leads off the kitchen, and the house completely reeked. The steamy air simply swallowed you both when you stepped inside the dirty room, both on high alert and yet still trying not to focus on the smell, on the sound of flies.

Perhaps this was the first moment Spencer should have realized you were not, in fact, fine. But when you began to breathe steadily from your mouth next to him, he brushed it off-maybe it helped you keep your head clear in this cesspool of rotten, unkempt living.

When the main floor was cleared, silently, Hotch and Prentiss were the first to breach the basement. Climbing down the curved staircase carefully before you and Spencer and the rest of the team followed, then splitting off into groups to search the rooms. The basement was large, and it was a very uncommon thing to have a basement in this part of the world- which was one of the red flags they had spotted when narrowing down a geo-profile for the unsub.

Morgan and JJ were behind you and Spencer, watching your backs as you cleared the meagre laundry room, then the furnace room. Down a final hallway, one door stood unchecked, and you approached ahead of Spencer, kneeling for a moment to turn the knob quietly, allowing him and Morgan to burst in first and call for the man inside to freeze.

They had known this man was a butcher, a sadistic man who enjoyed cutting his victims up like it was an art. Walking into his kill room was like stepping into a preview of Hell itself, the dirty and blood-spattered surfaces nothing compared to the site of rotting flesh hanging from the ceiling, dripping fluids on the concrete floor while the butcher no doubt worked at the table that sat in the centre of the room. He was standing there now, hands raised, his latest victim already dead-for a while, it seemed-a yellow-stained smile that didn’t meet his eyes stretching his mottled face.

This was Spencer’s second clue that you weren’t fine. As you hiccuped next to him, catching his eyes as Morgan cuffed the butcher, JJ holding her gun stead on Spencer’s other side. He looked you over and you seemed to be biting something back, and he wondered if maybe you wanted to say something to the butcher, to call him a monster.

Only, then he saw the colour was draining from your cheeks. He could hear the others in the hall behind them, so he holstered his gun and turned to you, watching as you lowered your weapon.

Your hands were shaking.

“(Y/N)?”

You looked up at him now and Spencer immediately felt a shiver shoot down his back; your pupils were pin-pricks, your face now far too pale, but your expression was so devastating like you couldn’t understand what was happening.

“D-dizzy...” And then you fainted, your gun falling from your hands, and Spencer was catching you while screaming out for Hotch, for medics. He caught you and quickly raised you into his arms, knowing he needed to get you outside of this putrid basement, into fresher air. JJ and Hotch were right by his side as he sprinted outside, lowering you to the grass before seeking out your pulse. It was steady but slow and a little weak.

He was still saying your name but you weren’t waking up, and then the medics were there and they checked your eyes and you still didn’t wake up. Spencer didn’t realize he was groaning as if in pain, his mind running through the last two weeks and questioning every moment he had seen, every symptom he thought was related to what the two of you had done together.

Had he been so blinded that he missed a real condition? You were younger than Spencer by a few years, healthy and active. What hadn’t he seen?

At the hospital, what felt like hours passed but in reality was merely fifty minutes-minutes that Spencer spent pacing angrily, proclaiming his stupidity to his colleagues, unloading the burden of his worries on them when it now felt too late.

They knew they could say nothing to comfort him, and so none of them tried, they simply listened. Occasionally one of them would brush his arm as he passed, a small gesture of affection. Spencer barely noticed.

“(Y/F/N) family?” A young doctor called, and the entire BAU stood instantly, allowing Spencer to shoot forward. The doctor didn’t hesitate, “You must be the husband?”

Spencer didn’t even hear her, “Is she alright?” His voice sounded coarse, strained. He held his breath.

She gave a small smile, “Yes, she’s just being settled into her room. She’s suffered a bad case of...exhaustion and mixed with the conditions of the home you described to the medics on your way here, I’m not surprised she fainted. She’ll need to stay overnight, we’re going to get her fluids back up and monitor the-her heart rate, get some food into her. Mainly, she needs to rest. Once she’s released I expect I’ll be assigning her bed rest for a few weeks.”

Spencer didn’t remember the ambulance ride over, just that he had been the one to go, his eyes never leaving you, not until the door closed that led into the staff-only area of the hospital. Had he really told them of the house? “Can I please see her?”

The doctor patted his arm, “Of course, follow me.”

You already looked so much better, the flush back in your cheeks and a small smile on your face when Spencer appeared in the doorway, drinking in the sight of you alive and well and beautiful, so beautiful. You were left alone, the doctor closing the door as she left, and before you could speak Spencer launched himself across the room and gently pulled you into a hug, being mindful of the IV line. Your heart monitor spiked, a sound he was very happy to hear.

“Sweet girl,” He breathed, kissing your head, your cheek, your hand, “I’m so sorry, I knew something was off with you and now the doctor said it’s exhaustion and I missed the signs, I thought I was being idiotic and then you-“

“Spence,” You pressed your hands to his face, and he carefully sat down on the bed, leaning over you, “I’m okay, this isn’t your fault.” You were so sweet.

Spencer shook his head despite the kind and sincere expression on your face, “I should have mentioned that I thought you seemed weird, maybe we could have prevented this.”

You were shaking your head now, a funny smile on your face, “We couldn’t have prevented this. I mean...” You broke off, looking away as if searching for the words you wanted to say. Spencer brushed the hair from your forehead, waiting for you to speak. “When I said this isn’t your fault, well Spence, it kind of is?”

Spencer stared at you, entirely confused. Your words should have cut through him, but that smile on your face made no sense. He watched as you seemed to steel yourself. “(Y/N)? What is it?” He took your hands into his, concerned, and at a complete loss.

For a moment, you stared back into his eyes, an unreadable storm of emotions within them. You leaned back into your cushions, took a deep breath, “I want you to know, Spencer Reid-that I am so, so in love with you,” You never looked away as Spencer froze, his mouth popping open in surprise. “You’re always going to be my best friend, no matter what, but New Years Eve-what I can remember-was the best night of my life. I can’t stop thinking about you, I never could really but now that I know, w-what I do about you, how it feels to be with you, it’s like I can’t get you out of my head. I love you.”

You were so brave, he thought at that moment. You never broke your gaze, your hands squeezing his as you spoke, as you eviscerated Spencer entirely with your beautiful words. He gulped in air, but it wouldn’t reach his lungs. You had just told him you were in love with him...that you thought about him, about that night, just like he did of you. Never, ever did he think that was what you were going to say, that you could feel the same. Never.

“Oh, sweet girl,” He finally gasped, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours in a soft, sweet kiss before pulling back slightly, “I should have told you that morning, when we woke up-I love you too, so much. I felt like we left that night with nothing, despite how it meant everything to me. You mean everything to me, (Y/N).”

Your eyes had filled with tears that now leaked down your cheeks, “Well, we didn’t leave that night with nothing...we...Spencer, I’m pregnant.” Your sentence rushed out and he felt the air evaporate within him, his entire body going rigid.

He just stared at you, waiting for the punchline, but you were giving him this knowing, somewhat empathetic look.

You weren’t kidding.

Like a tidal wave, his stupid genius brain finally pieced together all of your symptoms, the water, the appetite, sweating and headaches and the fucking mood swings. “I-(Y/N), how-?”

You laughed, not unkind as you reached up with one hand and cupped his cheek, “When two people love each other, they-“

Spencer cut off your joke, “No, I remember, you have an IUD.”

You sighed, still smiling, “They did a scan, looks like it’s not in place properly, which they said could happen. They removed it, today. And then they told me.”

Spencer could feel himself choking up, emotions swirling around, overwhelming him. And yet, he could see that even though he hadn’t responded to the news yet, you remained unbothered because you just understood him so well. Understood that it took time for some things to sink in for him. Your thumb brushed softly across his cheek, your other hand still squeezing his, keeping him grounded.

“You’re pregnant.” He said it aloud, stated it, then felt himself brighten, “You’re pregnant with our baby.” He didn’t realize the wetness on his face was his tears, not until you wiped at them with your thumb, now beaming at him.

“I’m pregnant with our baby-it’s been almost five weeks, so it’s still very early, but because I didn’t think, I didn’t realize-“ You broke off then, joy quickly turned to sadness.  “They said that everything looks just fine, that I just overdid it and now that I know I can start doing, all of the stuff you do for this, but I feel so stupid. I thought I was experiencing physical reactions to the stress and guilt I felt for what we did, for almost ruining-“

Spencer cut in, “No, no sweet girl, this isn’t your fault, you aren’t stupid-you’re perfect.” He refused to let you blame yourself, “And most people who aren’t trying to get pregnant don’t notice those symptoms for what they are right away. It’s entirely normal that you assumed what you did, it’s what I thought too.”

At this, you locked your eyes to his again, frowning, “How could we both be so ridiculous?”

Spencer laughed, taking your head into his hand and hugging you to his chest, “I can’t believe this, I really can’t.” His mind was swirling, so many thoughts rushing forward as he holds you close. Knowing you felt the same had his heart soaring already. But you were going to have his baby, be a mother. He was going to be a father.

Your arms snaked up to circle his neck, where you tucked your head, pulling him from his thoughts “I know we weren’t expecting this...I just need you to know-“

“I think I should move in.”

You jerked back from Spencer in surprise, eyes comically wide, “You want to move in?” You were smiling at him. He looked at you closely, holding your gaze.

“I’m there all the time anyway, and if you’re carrying my baby then I have a lot of responsibility now, I understand if you aren’t ready. But I’d like to take care of you, both of you. And I never want to come home to a place where you don’t live, (Y/N).”

You were fully crying now, cute sniffles surrounding your reply, “Yes, Spe-Spencer, you can move in, I’d love that.”

He hugged you again, and the two of you sat together in a state of complete content. Spencer had never been happier in his life, and he knew that even though he could barely remember the best night of his life, he was going to cherish it forever knowing that it led to this, the best day of his life he was never going to forget.

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