#where it's just impossible to kill van no matter what you do

[novelconcepts]

I love the whole van being unkillable thing so much bc it feels like the sort of price for her not dying is that shes in situations that should kill her way more often then than the others

The writers having full carte blanche to do what they will to Van in the 90s timeline is at once so upsetting and so funny. She could half-drown! She could be buried alive! She could fall off a mountain! It won't kill her, it's just gonna make her really mad.

Van's like "Jesus Christ, I just want to quote my movies and make out with my girlfriend, what is happening??" Meanwhile, the Wilderness is strapping her lil' voodoo doll to a paper airplane and chucking it off a cliff just to see what happens.

[anna-hawk]

Lonely as You

Pairing: Frank Castle x Matt Murdock Fandom: The Punisher/Daredevil Rating: E 🔞 Word count: ~2k

Summary: After one particularly hard mission, Frank realizes that Matt has a tough time dealing with his emotions.

Tags and warnings: angst – porn with feelings – emotional hurt comfort – canon typical violence (mentioned) – bathtub sex

This is yet again inspired by @nkeiiin, who struck again and hit me straight in the feels with this drawing.

Also read on AO3

“Hey, come on, Red,” Frank muttered softly, as he stooped low enough to get a hold of one of Matt’s elbows and help him up from where the man was sitting on hard concrete. “Let’s go… Nothin’ we can do anymore. The cops’ll be down here in a sec.” 

Matt didn’t move for a few seconds, his head still facing in the direction of the scene they’d brought an end to only a few minutes ago. Almost too late. Definitely too late to spare the kids they saved the future nightmares and hours of therapy. 

At least they got to go home, right?

Glancing at the small group of kids sitting huddled in a corner of the basement they were in, Frank tugged at Matt’s arm more urgently when he heard the sounds of police sirens just outside the large house. Thankfully, Matt finally moved and let Frank pull him through a door that led to a small tunnel and outside through a hidden trap in the backyard. They’d made sure to compile all the evidence they’d gotten on the trafficking ring on a USB stick, the hidden entrance included, and leave it for the police to find, along with the knocked out or dead criminals. 

Back outside, the two vigilantes quickly made their way towards Frank’s van that was parked in a secluded place a few yards away from the house and hidden from the police’s view. They took the direction of one of Frank's safe houses that they’d used during their planning for tonight, the small house only fifteen minutes away. The whole drive was done in utter silence, which wasn’t the real issue here, since that was more or less the norm between them. It was either bickering and bantering or being silent as they worked together. When they weren’t fucking it out afterward, for that matter. Frank didn’t mind any of the ways that he spent with Matt. As much as Frank was used to working alone, he was sometimes glad that he didn’t have to. Especially if it was Matt he was teaming up with. 

The current silence, however, felt deafening and left Frank with a bad feeling in his gut. He kept throwing Matt small glances and could practically feel each of Matt’s negative emotions coming off of him in waves, as if Frank were the one with the heightened senses. It was really because he knew Matt well enough to know what must be going through the man’s head. Probably stuff along the same lines as Frank's thoughts about what those kids had had to go through before they saved them. 

Parking in front of the house on the outskirts of NYC, Frank got out of the car after Matt had done the same and made his way to the entrance door. The smell of their lunch was still in the air, but it made Frank’s stomach roil with disgust this time; any hunger had fled him completely after tonight. Focusing his attention back on Matt, Frank followed the man into the tiny kitchen and watched him duck his head under the faucet to drink deeply. After he’d closed the water off, Matt stood there for a moment, his hands gripping the edges of the sink. 

“We should get cleaned up,” Frank tried, slightly unnerved by Matt’s unusual kind of silence. 

Frank had killed some of the men tonight, the situation and his rage getting the best of him. Was that the reason for Matt’s behavior? As much as they argued, the only true sticking point between them was the way they dealt with criminals. Matt refused to kill and continuously tried to stop Frank from doing so. Frank did try to hold back on the lethal blows, but on nights like today, it was impossible for him. 

Matt only nodded briefly and walked to the bathroom, Frank automatically following him. He didn’t really know why, but he felt like either of them being alone right now wasn’t a good idea. With his back to Frank, Matt turned on the faucet in the bathtub and plugged it closed as soon as the water turned hot. He slowly began removing his gear, starting with the helmet, and let each item fall to the tiles. Frank remained quiet and unmoving, thinking hard. He wanted to reach for Matt, but since he didn’t manage to get a read on the man, he refrained from it. He sighed when Matt was almost fully undressed, but still hadn't really acknowledged Frank's presence.

“Listen, Red… I know what you’re thinkin’… But those guys? They didn’t deserve to live. Honestly? They deserved far worse before I put a bullet in their heads, but-”

“You’re right,” Matt cut in softly, stopping Frank in his agitated explanation. 

Frank watched as Matt put a hand over his eyes and tilted his head back with a sound that almost sounded like a sob. His eyebrows creased while his gut clenched at the sight of utter misery in front of him. 

“I’m glad they’re gone, Frank,” Matt admitted, his voice raspy as he turned to face Frank at last, revealing every emotion to him. “That’s the only thing I could think of,” he laughed without humor. “I listened to their heart beats slowing down, and I wanted them to stop, I…” He turned his head away and shook it. 

“Wishin' for someone’s death and killin’ someone ain’t the same thing, Red,” Frank spoke gently as he took a step closer to Matt. “Everyone’s havin’ those kinda thoughts. Still don’t mean you wanna do it. Gonna do it.” 

Matt shook his head again and swallowed hard. “It’s not the first time I’ve wanted to… nearly did it, too.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Didn’t I? Tonight? I didn’t stop you, Frank… You know I could’ve. Sometimes I can’t, sometimes you’re too quick and… but not tonight. What happened in that basement? Sometimes I think I’ve seen it all and then… Fuck… I watched you do it, Frank, and-”

Frank cupped Matt’s jaw with both hands, and Matt’s hands came up to circle Frank’s wrists on reflex. 

“Stop.” He said it gently, but the tone was firm. “You ain’t me, Red. And I’d kill any last one of those motherfuckers we fight if it means you ain’t ever gonna fall to my level.” 

Matt gritted his teeth and leaned his forehead against Frank’s. 

“I don’t want you to do that. Not for me, either. Killing isn’t…” Matt went silent, much to Frank’s relief. Tonight wouldn’t be one of the nights they’d argue about God and who did or didn't deserve to die. Tonight, Matt was closer to Frank’s way of thinking, but Frank wasn’t happy about it in the slightest. Not if it almost broke Matt to admit it. 

The hands on Frank’s wrists vanished, only for them to appear at the hem of Frank’s body armor and go for the fastenings. Frank didn’t question it, and wasn’t surprised in the least by Matt leaning away briefly to tilt Frank’s face in the right position with one hand and kiss him. The exchange had nothing soft in it. It was demanding and desperate at the same time. A sharp breath left Frank as he kissed Matt back hard before taking a step away from the man's scorching touch to get out of his clothes. Matt wasn’t a silent observer, though. He went for Frank’s belt buckle, as Frank was pulling off his shirt, and made quick work of unzipping and lowering Frank's jeans. Frank nearly stumbled as he tried to undo his combat boots with his pants at mid-thigh, but he kicked them off and reached for Matt again as soon as he was fully naked as well. His hands went to Matt’s ass and pulled him closer as Matt’s tongue glided over his with a groan. Matt pulled away slightly and led Frank to the bathtub. After getting in, Matt turned off the faucet since the water had reached the desired level, and Frank joined him a second later. Thankfully, the bathtub was large enough for what Matt had in mind. He lowered himself into the water and laid back, silently beckoning Frank to slip between his parted legs before drawing him down for another needy kiss. The water sloshed against the sides as they moved into position, with Matt’s legs folding over Frank’s hips while Frank held himself up with one hand on the edge of the tub. Their hard lengths slid together in the hot water as their hips moved against each other, making both men groan into the kiss. 

“Fuck me, Frank,” Matt moaned against Frank’s mouth, before slipping his tongue back into it. 

Frank growled and kissed Matt deeply. “Ain’t got anythin’ in here to-”

“I don’t care. Just like that, Frank. Need this.” 

Frank huffed, while his own desperation for closeness shot through him. Lifting his head, he caught sight of the bottle of shampoo sitting in the corner of the tub and reached for it. Better than nothing. He was fine if Matt didn’t want to wait, but he didn’t want to actually hurt him. 

“Frank,” Matt breathed, tugging and pulling at Frank. 

“Water ain’t fuckin’ lube, Red. Just…” Frank managed to single-handedly get some of the shampoo onto his hand and lifted his hips until their lower parts were out of the water. He coated his dick and quickly slid a slick finger inside Matt, before pressing the head of his cock against Matt’s entrance. 

“Fuckin’… Christ,” Frank grunted, while he pushed against the tight ring of muscle and was granted slow access. 

Matt hissed, but his mouth fell open on a whine of utter pleasure once the first inches of Frank’s cock breached him. It was slow work, but Frank was soon lowering them back into the water and began to move. One of Matt’s arms wrapped under Frank’s while the other one went over Frank’s shoulder, both hands gripping at Frank’s back, the fingers digging into the muscles. Frank pressed his face against the side of Matt’s neck as he fucked him with long and deep thrusts. The hand that had gone for the shampoo was now under Matt’s leg to open him wider for Frank. Matt’s moans and cries of pleasure reverberated all around the tiled room, while more and more water slapped against the sides of the tub and ultimately over them, drenching the floor around it. Neither of the men paid it any mind, their focus solely on each other and the need to feel the other, forget everything else around them. 

Matt suddenly came with a choked out sound without either of them ever touching his cock, his arms wrapping tighter around Frank’s back as he jerked under the larger man. As if Matt’s orgasm finally allowed Frank to let go as well, Frank lifted his head to capture Matt’s lips as he pushed into the other man a few more times before he was following Matt over the edge. He could feel his release coating the inside of Matt’s hole, and groaned at the way Matt contracted around him with aftershocks. 

After a minute of silence, this one more comfortable than the previous one, Frank gently pulled out. As Matt groaned, Frank felt glad that they were already inside a bath, so they could shower off quickly, his body feeling heavy after everything that had happened that evening. Matt shifted under Frank and pulled the bathtub’s plug to let the dirty water run down the drain. Frank stood and pulled Matt to his feet, before he reached for the shower part of the bathtub. They rapidly cleaned up and dressed in the same silence.

After reaching the bedroom, Frank looked back to a hesitant Matt. Generally, they didn’t spend the night together, not in bed anyway, but Frank didn’t think twice about catching Matt’s forearm and drawing him inside the room behind him. Matt uttered a small sigh of relief and went quietly. He settled inside the bed and Frank wrapped his arms around him from behind, his forehead to Matt's nape. 

Frank knew that nothing had changed, Matt would keep warring inside his mind with his far from catholic thoughts, but at least he wasn’t alone. 

Not anymore.

[yallemagne]

Okay but consider: If Quincey hadn't died... the other option of someone from the crew dying is undeniably Jonathan. He had DEATH FLAGS GALORE on him.

Oh, buddy. You came into my house. Didn't even take your shoes off at the door, didn't ring the doorbell. Oh, buddy. Dunno what this is in response to or if it is in response to anything?? I haven't talked about Quincey's death like... since it happened.

So, here we go.

I have already thought of this, you fool. It’d be very easy to kill Jonathan off instead. At the very end? Definitely. It’s just a matter of switching who gets stabbed. And, to be honest, it's... the obvious choice. That neither Jonathan nor Van Helsing die but Quincey does is surprising from a storyteller's perspective. The Lover doesn't die valiantly saving his wife? The Mentor doesn't die valiantly saving his student? The Cowboy dies?

Now, the happiness of the original epilogue would be… impossible to replicate with this change. Anyone who might attempt to suggest to me that Mina could/would remarry and have children with someone else can leave immediately. Never talk to me.

Baby Quincey (perhaps he'd be called Jonathan instead?) could not exist in the same way because that's not how pregnancy works. Mina would have to be pregnant a looooong time for her baby to be born on the anniversary of her husband's death. Though I suppose you could pull a Phantom Blood: have Mina already pregnant with Jonathan’s child and just have him be born earlier than the anniversary. Make it the anniversary of something else, perhaps. I just don’t like that people would then speculate about the father (they already do even when it’s impossible with the original epilogue). But that’s not what this is about. We’re not talking about new life, we’re talking about death. 

Jonathan Harker dies. The knife that would have pierced Quincey Morris in another lifetime stabs Jonathan instead, and all his strength flees from his body as soon as the Count has crumbled to dust. Quincey catches him as he falls and shudders at just how light the man is. This is the same man who jumped onto the back of a moving cart and threw that bastard's crate of dirt off the back like it weighed nothing to him...

Mina screams. She runs to her husband, paying no mind to the circle that she should not have been able to cross. She's certain that not even God could keep her from her husband at this moment. With trembling hands, she rips off her scarf and presses it to the wound, helplessly trying to stop the bleeding. She’s abandoned all fear of being seen as hysterical, screaming at the doctors to do something, for God to have mercy, for Jonathan not to leave her. She screams, and no one can stop her. 

“You swore—!” she cries, and if not for the circumstances, she would have grabbed him by the shoulders and shaken his body in anger. “You swore I would never have to go into that unknown and terrible land alone!”

Jonathan’s breath falters at the words being spoken aloud. However, his gaze falls on her face where the scar condemning her to that dreadful unlife should be, and his cracked bloody lips pull into a grin as he brushes her hair back with a shaky hand. “I swear... I did not lie, Wilhelmina.”

The other men only catch a glimpse of her unmarred forehead —whiter than the snow beneath them that is staining red, red, red— before she lurches forward and presses it to Jonathan’s own.

Mina clenches her jaw so hard that she feels her teeth may shatter. What should be a moment for rejoicing is anything but. The same God that shunned her and burned her only grants her his love again after stealing away from her the only thing that ever mattered. Is this the mercy what she had been asking of Jonathan a month ago? Is this emptiness in her chest the same she would have inflicted upon him by forcing him to drive a stake into her heart?

She prays aloud, though to a different god this time —the only one whose love and acceptance ever truly mattered— her Jonathan. She begs for a miracle, her tears falling upon his cheeks and mixing with his, and he would grant her wishes if only he were capable of such things.

They kiss. Nothing could ever prevent them from doing so. Even if the stain had not disappeared, no force could be strong enough to pull them apart, and no deathly fate could be worse than being denied this final goodbye.

It occurs to Jonathan that he should say something. There should be a brilliant send-off to make his death mean something. But just as the men are taking in his death, marvelling at the bravery and strength he accepts his own death with, he cannot help but break the illusion of the courageous soldier with a pitiful “I don’t want to die, Mina.” Shame pierces each man's heart as they remember he's truly only a boy.

There’s no peace in the departing, only two lovers determined to make their last words spoken to one another each other’s names, each desperately clinging to the other until one loses his grip on life and falls silent. 

[albino-whumpee]

Fallen Bridges

...eheheh. 

Hope you like this. Can´t believe I´m actually working on this. 

Taglist:

@castielamigos-whump-side-blog @giggly-evil-puppy @cowboysrappin @haro-whumps @burtlederp @neuro-whump @comfortforthepain @whumps-the-word @whole-and-apart-and-between @broken-horn-blog@ashintheairlikesnow @rosesareviolentlyread @starnight-whump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @as-a-matter-of-whump  @whumpasaurus101 @grizzlie70 @wingedwhump @unicornscotty @melancholy-in-the-morning

Please tell me if you wish to be added or taken out of the taglist!

CW//Pet whump, emotional whump, failed escape attempt, recapture, ptsd, grief, mentions of child death, suicidal ideation, shock collars, ghosts and angst. so much angst. 

He couldn´t breathe. Even if he knew it was useless to try to escape, he didn´t stop running. Just to make sure he wasn't followed, he turned his head, making himself trip down a short hill. He rolled and crashed against a puddle on the side of the road. 

However, for a second, the two centimeter puddle became a lake where his head was submerged and kept there a minute. Then two. Screams became bubbles that popped when they reached the surface.

With a gasp, he returned to reality, paddling and slamming his back against the busted pipe the water was pouring from. 

Albus gasped like a fish out of the water, the telltales of a panic attack taking his lungs captive. 

He couldn´t stop, he wasn´t safe, but where was safe? Was there a place like that for him? He pulled himself up…only to fall back on his elbows when his legs refused to stop shaking violently. 

His heart was pounding so hard he feared it would beat out of his chest.

“Calm down! You gotta calm down, Albus! This is all a big mistake,” he screamed inside his head, his pitiful attempts at breathing only making his chest clench harder. 

“This is all a big misunderstanding. I- I didn´t-” he said, clenching a hand over his chest with a pained groan. “M-Mister Claude just- just... had an episode,” he tried to reason between pants “M-Mister Claude didn´t mean t-to put on the collar…” he half laughed between huffs, immediately stopping when his trembling fingers passed around the box of the shock collar. The electrodes punctured into his skin with how tight the collar had been cinched. 

The pet´s forehead began to pearl with sweat. 

“I-I had nothing to do with what happened,” He said as memories of rushing, of panic at being chased rushed through him as he looked at the road, where a van passed by at full speed and then…

Turning and turning and turning…

He held his head in his hands and shut his eyes. 

“I wasn´t there! It wasn´t my fault!!” he screamed at the top of his lungs, shaking his head from side to side. After a second he said lower, almost in a whisper, “How the hell could I have gotten out?! I didn't do it!” he screamed as tears began to fill his eyes. When he opened them, drops of rain began to drop on his face. “It's impossible…”

Don´t worry, Al, the clouds will cry for you.

That tiny voice told him again. He had broken into tears when he saw the sky a long time ago. But that day…it was a sunny day. 

People shouldn't die on sunny days.

The boy was silent for a long time then, before a bitter laugh escaped his lips.

 “I didn´t kill them…right?” his voice shattered as he dropped his head. The rain carried his tears until he curled into himself and sobbed.

If it was true, if his dreams of the road and the van were of his owner´s, then. 

“What kind of sick joke is this?!” he shouted, punching the mud puddle forming below him. 

Of all the places he could have ended up, he ended with the people whose lives he ruined? The person who picked him and gave him a chance to be a person and not just her pet. The person he took care of when pain was too much for his body to forget, the person he detested and the person he loved more than anything…he ruined their lives.

And, as if that wasn´t enough, he had taken their most precious people's lives, too.

Right there in the middle of nowhere a pitiful pet crashes down and cries for sins that can not be forgiven.

It was his fault. 

All of it. 

Albus screamed until his head pounded.

“Why did it have to go like this? This wasn´t supposed to happen!” he punched the ground below him again before curling into himself, cradling his wounded abdomen. Mister Claude had never laid a finger on him. Mistress Sarahi had always loosened up his collar to sleep. He was so comfortable with his life, he had forgotten she had bought tools to punish him.

A terrifying thought crossed his mind then. 

Did she know? From the beginning? 

He shook his head. No, if she had known from the beginning, a shock collar would have been the first thing she would have given him. 

She would've given him to Robert as a gift, if she had known. 

The rain began to pour when he passed his hand over his throat, the shock collar undeniably wrapping firmly against it. 

He had been so scared of being returned, he had forgotten he could still be punished while living as her pet? No, not even him had gotten that naive. But he had thought he had done everything in his power to avoid that.

How was he supposed to know he had already failed before they even met?

He pushed himself up to continue walking. Once they found him, it was over for him. Being returned was the least of his concerns. He knew his owners. Or at least, he knew them enough to know returning him wouldn´t be the end of it. Even if it weren´t them,  that would never be enough punishment.

He halted as the rain slowly began to turn into hail. 

Then what would be enough? What kind of things could they do to him to make him pay? What kind of torture would be enough to make someone pay for that? Would he be the only one to receive such a punishment?

“S-Sann!” he shouted, urgently taking a step towards the house, but stopping. “...he has nothing to do with this, in any case, he is also a victim…” 

Albus stared at the road for a second before his lips curved into a smile that didn´t reach his eyes.

“Don´t worry, Sann. You won´t see me again after you leave” he looked down at his soaked clothes then. It wasn´t him he should be worrying about, but his former owner. 

His gut churned so hard he wavered. 

What would he do if he knew? The mere thought made his bones quiver. He took a deep breath before lifting his eyes in the direction of her house. “Even when things have turned like this, you wouldn´t break your promise with me, right, ma´am?” 

As if to answer for her, the storm roared.

He clenched his teeth hard.

He could do nothing but pray she would. 

Albus was tracing a route in his head when he turned his head up to find a little boy before him. 

His breathing stopped as he watched the kid crouch. The rain passing through his body, the only giveaway to what exactly he was actually seeing. 

“Charlie…” his voice trembled as the little boy smiled at him. 

The boy says something so low it takes him a solid minute to understand what it meant, but before he can even try to reply, the ghost is gone. 

He was still processing the kid´s words when he catches something from the corner of his eye. But he can´t react fast enough to avoid being tackled down and expertly have his hands handcuffed. 

“Get me the muzzle!” an agent from the recovery team screams as he pins Albus down on the mud. 

–

“Claude!” Sarahi yelled at the man entering through the main door. “Did you find him?” 

The man shook his head. 

“Maybe it's better this way. Sann always went on walks with him. If someone knows in what kind of hole that rat would go hide into-”

“Claude…” Sarahi cut him, making the man´s frown grow tighter, before he sighed. 

“I´m repulsed by myself. Knowing we took care of that- that murderer!”

“Claude! Please…stop it” Sarahi had wrapped herself in the living room´s blanket, still shaking like a leaf after having called the police to inform of her runaway pet. 

A runaway…In the end, he did end up escaping.

She was wondering if the slight relief in her stomach was because of that when Claude sat next to her to pull her into a hug. 

“Sarahi…” he called sweetly before she pushed him away. His eyes blew wide before his face twisted into anger he could barely contain “I know he was your pet, but you can´t seriously think that-!” 

“I can't seriously think what? That I can't be bitter that my own pet turned out to be the reason I ever needed a pet?! The reason I was left all alone?!” at her screaming, the man shut up.

“...You aren't alone. You have me," he whispered.

Sarahi let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, I have you.” to the man, that simple phrase felt like a knife drove directly through his heart. “If it's the day we all become honest, then tell me Claude, where the hell did you learn all this about Albus, hm? I'm sure the Glass residence isn´t a place that would have that kind of information” 

Claude stayed silent for a second. “It's a lot more complicated than you think. Sarahi, I-”

“Do you think I wouldn't notice you were lying? C´mon, Claude. Where the hell have you been working until now?”

Claude´s face turned darker and darker as he carefully explained to her. Word after word, a new wrinkle of horror appeared on her face, until she jumped up and rushed to take her car keys. When she slammed the door on her way out, Claude´s heart shattered along the glass. 

He had hoped she would come back, but when he heard the sound of tires scraping against the pavement, he slouched. 

He took a deep breath, then.

What had he expected? 

He huffed through his nose, thinking it was because of the albino´s files that he even got ratted out. 

Ah, yet another thing he wanted to make the boy pay for. 

He still remembered the boy´s files, so an hour of futile waiting later, he was sitting in their bed with papers scattered around him. There it was.  The obvious proof of torture before he was taken in, the scars that now made sense. His real age. 

Holding the files covered in dried bloody fingerprints after learning the truth made a pang of guilt appear. 

Even if he was the reason, why…?

Claude´s jaw clenched hard as he gripped tighter on the papers. 

“This is not enough!” he cried out, furiously wiping furtive tears. “You took them away! My only family! And yet-!”

Without thinking, he threw the papers away and at the sound of glass shattering, he turned back to see the shards of the tea the boy had left by their bed. Just like every night. His pills, along with Sarahi´s, scattered on the floor above the soaking pages of his files. 

He was the reason, and yet, he couldn´t deny he thought of him as family now. Before he even knew what hell was, the boy had already gone through it twice. It wasn´t enough reason to forgive him, but…

Claude turned, and buried his head into his hands. 

“Fuck…” 

An hour after that, he was putting back the files into a drawer when suddenly, his phone rang. 

“Rob?” 

It took a long moment for him to speak again. When he did, his voice sounded ragged, but in such a calm tone, it made Claude´s hairs stand on end. 

“Do you want him to pay for what he did?”

–

Sarahi wouldn't remember how she had gotten there, but she would remember the cold ice raining down on her as she walked up to their graves in the cemetery. 

Her clothes were soaked when she stepped into the cemetery. The old keeper simply followed her with his eyes until she stood in front of two graves. 

"Charlie" she called for her first born, a torpedo of a child before she turned her eyes to the grave next to it. "Fran…" the youngest, the baby boy who never wanted to leave her side. Always trying to climb up for her to hold him in her arms. 

The baby boy that had been jumping in her lap on an ordinary car trip until she woke up to the news he had been buried months earlier. She crumbled right before the small crosses with her children´s names. 

The children she couldn't even say goodbye to because nobody knew if she would wake up or not. 

Her cries were so ragged, it seemed they wished to rip a hole into the sky. Maybe dip into that garden where that filthy god kept them as roses and take them with her. Maybe in such a way, her throat would rip and would let them join them up there. 

In reality, she knew her wish was to simply have had the chance to see them. At least one more time. 

Just to say goodbye. 

After a while, her crying stopped, but the tears continued to flow down her cheeks. 

“You know?” she sniffed “He thought I didn't see him, like most of the time when he was doing something he shouldn't” her lips were tightly on place. Not even the hint of a smile came up. “but I know he saw you,” she confessed before silent graves. “I heard him laugh sometimes. I heard him say he was scared of me finding out he could talk with you. At first I thought it was just a sick joke of his. But then…” But then the little things he should´ve never known about began to pop up. “...If you really…if you really talked with him…” she slowly lowered and bent into herself, tears flooding again as her voice trembled. 

“Are you mad at me?” her lips pursed tight, before she took a deep breath. “...for letting him in and letting him take care of me when he…When I used him to fill the gap you left. Because I loved him like I loved you? Do you hate me? Because he became family, but...But he destroyed it! Twice for fuck sake!” she howled, snot beginning to run over her mouth before she furiously wiped it away. 

“Charlie, Fran…Are you angry with me for not hating him as much as I could?”

Of course, there was no answer. 

She gripped tightly on the mud below her knees. 

“I wish I had never woken up” she declared “If this was what was waiting for me, wasn´t hell a better choice?” she said through gritted teeth and burying her face into her hand before another river of tears flowed down her eyes. 

[deceitfuldevil]

Snap Out of It!

Pietro Maximoff X Reader

Summary: You grew up with the Maximoff twins, even agreed to be experimented on at HYDRA with them. You and Pietro were clearly falling for each other the older you got, but HYDRA sent you away and told the Maximoff’s you were dead. So what happens when you show up at the Avengers compound with no memory of your past?

Warnings: a little bit of angst I think?? Mentions of bombs, HYDRA experiments, some fluff and kissing ;)

Word Count: 3.69K

You were born during the start of a terrible war in your home country, and about two months later your parents introduced you to a new set of twins who lived just a few doors down from you. Of course you don’t actually remember meeting them, but your earliest memories were all filled with the Maximoff twins. You practically grew up right alongside them, you three did everything together. Birthdays, playdates, dinner when your parents weren’t home, all of it. It was also nice to grow up alongside others who were your age, especially when your country was at such a low place; it was a good distraction.

You were 10 years old when your apartment complex was bombed, your father had just walked in the door coming home from work. He and your mom fell into the hole in the floor immediately, that was the last time you ever saw them. You sat curled up in a ball in the far left corner of what used to be your kitchen. Frozen with fear and trauma for two days, until you were rescued. You were brought down to a large police van, the doors were opened for you and you saw two other children huddled together under a blanket, both of them immediately turned to see you and screamed with joy. It was your best friends, the Maximoffs. You ran into the van and hugged them immediately, all of you breaking down into tears. You sat in the back of the van together and chatted about the bombing. The main question on your mind was “are there any survivors?” but as it turned out, not only were you and the Maximoff twins the only children that survived. You three ended up being the three lone survivors of the entire apartment complex. Newspapers printed out articles on “the miracle trio” for weeks to come.

From that day on you three jumped from homeless shelter to homeless shelter, never once being allowed to stay in once place for too long. You even agreed to volunteer for HYDRA’s experiments with Wanda and Pietro when you were all 17. You tried to stay in communication with your friends but HYDRA made that near impossible with their constant experiments and isolations. The time you did get to spend with the Maximoffs was cherished, especially your time with Pietro. You two were definitely drawn to each other as you grew into your mid teens, but you never truly allowed anything serious to happen in fear of how Wanda might react.

About a year into your experiments at HYDRA, you gained healing like abilities along with some telepathy as well. After learning and controlling these powers you were excited for when you got to see Wanda and Pietro next to see what powers they had gained. But you never got the chance. HYDRA saw more use in you than petty armed fights, and shipped you off to god knows where and gave you the improved and experimental “super-soldier” serum. HYDRA informed Wanda and Pietro that the experiments became too much for you, that you were weak and had passed on. Pietro cried for days on end, and Wanda could hear him every night from her neighboring cell. Thinking you were dead killed his spirit, his soul. He never even got to tell you how he really felt. That you were so much more than just a fling to him. Meanwhile you trained for months on end and every week and were forced to have shock therapy to erase your past memories. HYDRA was making you into nothing more than a weapon, a shell of a person. After a few successful missions, that's all you were good for. So if you weren’t out on business, you were put under cryo-sleep. This went on for years.

It wasn't until 3 weeks after the battle of Sokovia when Sam had been questioning Wanda and Pietro about their time with HYDRA, he was able to locate another one of their secret human experiment facilities. Steve was hoping they’d make a break in that missing persons case of his but to no avail. However, they did find one abandoned soldier in cryo-freeze. You.

Now, of course it took months of isolation and small bits of normal human activity and interaction to erase what HYDRA had brainwashed you into. After about 4 1/2 months Tony decided it was time to move you into the new compound, but kept you restricted to your room. Others were allowed to visit you if they’d like, it was encouraged really. Get you the human interaction you needed.

Three days and no visits later, which you didn’t mind. It was nice being isolated somewhere with TV service.

Clint walked over to the kitchen island where Wanda and Pietro were having a conversation over a snack.

“Either of you meet the newest recruit yet? I hear she’s still in isolation.”

“There’s a... new recruit?” Pietro said, his accent thick as he spoke with a questioning tone.

“Yeah, Y/N something. Found her in cryo-freeze at that HYDRA base we raided a few months ago.”

Wanda froze, immediately looking to her brother who looked like a deer caught in headlights.

“Pietro... it can’t be her. You remember how she died in trials” Wanda tried to reason with her still love stricken brother after all these years.

“That’s what they told us, what if they lied? It wouldn’t be the first time.”

She just shook her head “it’s impossible, do you even think she’d still remember you?” Wanda inquired.

“There’s only one way to find out!” Pietro said, speeding off leaving a trail of blue streaks behind him.

He busted through the lab doors and stood about 5 feet from Tony, breathless. “What’s her name? Her full name.”

“Okay speedy, next time knock, yeah? And half of our team here is “her’s” so I haven’t the slightest clue who you’re talking about.” Tony spoke calmly, but frustrated that Pietro bursted in out of nowhere.

“The new recruit, Y/N.”

Tony looked over to the quick man and quirked a brow at him

“Well you’ve already got half her name down. She’s Y/N L/N, an ex HYDRA super soldier. You should go visit her actually, she just moved into the compound a few days ago. No ones even visited her y—“

“Where is she staying? what room is she in?” He asked, cutting Tony off.

“Floor 2, room 315... you know it’s impolite to cut off your—“ but before Tony could finish, Pietro had sped off again.

You sat into your room watching an old sitcom from the 2000s you felt drawn to. But before you could invest yourself any further there was a knock at your door. Something you weren’t used to. You hesitantly spoke, “come in” you said sitting up in your bed, fixing your hair a little in the process.

A silver haired man slowly walked in, he had broad shoulders and a toned body. He was attractive, no doubt. But he almost looked familiar to you. Why?

“Hello dragâ” he spoke with a Eastern Europe accent, but one not one you could exactly pinpoint. But you recognized the foreign word he spoke

“Hello... domnule. How do you know Russian... and why have you come to visit?” You questioned, swinging your legs over the side of your bed. The man at your door, he looked sad now. His face fell, but you didn’t understand why.

“You don’t remember me?” He walked closer to you, as you stood up from your bed.

“Well I don’t remember much after HYDRA brainwashed the hell out of me” you said with a slight chuckle, but he still looked disappointed.

“But maybe if you tell me your name and why I should remember you” you said with a smirk, stepping closer to the handsome man that stood in front of you.

“Can I show you instead?” He said, stepping so close that now your chests were touching. You enjoyed the human interaction but with your past training, this still left you on edge.

“Show me?” You questioned, but he took this rather as the go-ahead and snaked a hand around your waist and leaned down, placing a soft kiss on your lips. You wanted to melt into his touch but it was all too soon, and you didn’t even know his name. You pulled away abruptly and slapped him. Backing away as you sat back down on your bed and stared at your hands.

“Please leave.” You said just as quietly as you said when you allowed him to come in. When you looked up, the mysterious man was gone; your door left a crack open.

No one visited you for five more days after that. It was early into the evening and you sat alone in your room reading a book. There was a knock at your door but you didn’t answer it. The last time you agreed to let someone in they violated your boundaries. But regardless your door was still opened, but a new person you had yet to meet walked through.

She stood a bit taller than you and had long red hair, a kind smile and warm eyes.

“I hope I am not intruding.” She said, with the same accent as the man who invaded on your days before. Which again, put you on edge.

“Who are you?” You said, keeping your eyes on your book— desperately avoiding eye contact.

“Wanda Maximoff, but you can just call me Wanda.” She said sweetly

“Oh how sweet of you” you said dryly, still bitter over your last encounter with someone in the avengers compound.

“All you remember is pain” she said in an as-a-matter-of-fact kind of way. “But that’s not all you know, you just need to remember.” You now dared to look up at her. She was still at the door, keeping her distance from you.

“And how am I supposed to remember what you think I know?” You asked, and she took a step closer to your bed.

“I don’t think, I see. I can see inside your head, they did unspeakable things to you. Made you carry out violent missions that still haunt your dreams. You’ve forgotten what you know, your life before them...” Wanda paused, your eyes welled up gently with tears but you refused to let them fall. But she noticed.

“I think I can help you, if you’d let me” she took another step towards you, waiting for your reaction. But you stayed silent, fighting with yourself internally.

“We used to be friends, you know. You, my brother and I. He came to visit you a few days ago, and he knows what he did was wrong. He just missed you terribly. We have similar pasts. I want to help you, but if you don’t want my help. That is okay too. Regardless of what you choose, I still want to be your friend.”

You took a deep breath and stood up out of your bed. “How will you do it?” You asked, wanting nothing more than to feel normal again.

“A little bit of my magic, a little bit of love, and a lot of stories.” She smiled sweetly, taking your hand in hers. “I’ll be right back, okay?” You nodded quickly as Wanda left your room. You sat back down on your bed and racked your head wondering what you were about to learn about yourself. Wanda came back in with a fairly large box labeled “amintiri” which you knew meant “memories” in Romanian.

“Is everyone here Russian like me?” You questioned, giving Wanda a laugh “no, just my brother and I. Coincidentally, the only two who have visited you since you moved here.” You frowned slightly at her comment

“Why has no one else come to visit me?��

Wanda sighed “no one else knows you like my brother and I do. All they know is what you have done in your past, and that scares them.” She took the lid off the box she brought in and picked up a stack of photos that were tied together with a rubber band.

“But lucky for you, Pietro and I know more.” She said with a smile

“Pietro?” You said, quirking your head to the side a bit.

“He is my twin brother, the one who visited you last week. You two have... a history of sorts together. But we’ll get into that later.”

So with that, for some reason, you felt that everything was going to be okay.

And okay it was. Wanda showed you hundreds of pictures everyday and told the story behind every picture she pulled. Although you didn’t remember any of the memories she retold, it was still nice to hear what your life was like before HYDRA.

A week and a half later, she used her powers on you. At the time you remembered nothing, but later that night when she was showing you more pictures you pulled one picture out of the  box. It was three little kids, all surrounding a brown chest that seemed to be filled with various sitcoms on VHS tape.

“This was on your 9th birthday, your father had bought a chest full of old American sitcoms. Not only did you love comedy but our family saw it as a great way to practice your English. Your favorite was The Dick Van Dyke Show.” You immediately recalled with great memory as you picked up the picture. Wanda jumped with joy and hugged you.

“You remembered!!” You nodded happily and hugged her back. “I remembered...” you said back quietly, almost in shock of yourself.

From then on memories came back to you not only easier but also a lot quicker. Soon enough, you remembered everything HYDRA had tried to erase out of your head. Even your feelings for Pietro. But you kept those memories to yourself, afraid that he would hate you after your first encounter with him when you came to the compound.

The last step Wanda had for you in what she called “Becoming You Again Project” was to have dinner with the rest of the compound, and finally be properly introduced to them.

So a dinner you all had. It was casual, but still felt formal as everyone greeted you so politely. Of course Wanda kept them all updated on your status. Even though they hadn’t met you yet, with her seal of approval they all trusted you now.

The last person to greet you was a face you could never forget now. Pietro Maximoff.

“Y/n... I know you’ve met a thousand times before, but I’d like you to meet my brother, Pietro.” Wanda said, elbowing her brother to stop staring at you and shake your hand. You felt weak at the knees under his gaze, was this how he’s always made you feel?

Pietro bowed down before you like you were some kind of princess and kissed your hand sweetly.

“Hello again, dragoste mia“ you felt hot under his touch and knew you were turning a beet red. You nodded quickly and smiled at him. He looked up and winked at you, walking to his seat. Which almost dreadfully, was directly across from yours.

After that you all sat down for dinner, Pepper had made a nice pasta dish for everyone. You ate quietly as everyone went around and told you stories of all kinds. Of past missions together, of personal life stories, and so much more. Truly it was a very enjoyable time. You loved getting to know everyone more than the files you were left in your room to “get to know the avenger” as Tony called it.

The night was almost perfect, if you hadn’t felt the gaze of a very familiar Sokovian man on you all night. He never even spoke, not that he had many stories to tell that you weren’t there for. The more stories that were told, the more you tuned them out and fell victim to his gaze.

But when the room fell quiet and you realized everyone's eyes were on you, you snapped out of whatever trance Pietro held you captive in and laughed nervously.

“I’m sorry, what did I miss? My mind was... somewhere else.” A few others laughed awkwardly, it was no doubt that everyone else noticed the constant looks you and Pietro were sharing. Tony stood up abruptly taking it upon himself to avoid the awkward silence.

“It was nothing important, Y/n. Anyways I believe this dinner was long overdue and very welcomed. We will be seeing you at training tomorrow?” Tony asked, starting to clear up his place.

“She can start on Monday, Tony. Let the kid have the weekend before she officially becomes an avenger, yeah?” Steve said, also standing up. Tony looked back at you and said “Captain's orders kid, see you Monday.” He said walking off, plate in hand. The others followed suit as you said your thank you’s for the warm welcome and goodnights to everyone.

Even if you didn’t make the dinner, you insisted on cleaning up. It was a nice way for you to feel helpful and to debrief after the dinner. Wanda left you alone and you cleaned the dishes happily while F.R.I.D.A.Y played some tunes for you.

“Mind if I lend you a hand, printsessa?” You heard a thick accent call out. You turned around to see none other than Pietro standing at the kitchen island with a smirk on his face.

“You’re not afraid of me?” You asked in a playful tone, although you weren’t entirely joking.

“Hardly, you could choke the life out of me and I’d say thank you.” He said, cheekiness radiating in his voice.  You only laughed at his comment shaking your head.

“But just so you know, I used to do the choking in this relationship.” He said, daring to step closer to you. Your legs felt like jelly but you challenged him.

“Oh did you now? It’s a shame I don’t remember that.” You said teasingly

“But you remember other things? You remember me? Us? What we were?” His tone remained challenging, but his words were serious. You flirty front dropped at this, a small fear that he didn’t feel the same now coming back to eat you alive. You didn’t answer, rather turning back around to finish off the last of the dishes.

“You do remember me, and the times we shared together... no?” He said, carefully coming beside you.

“How could I forget? Of all the memories I was able to recall, those were the best” you said half-heartedly... not meaning to sound so bitter.

“But surely you’ve moved on...” you said quietly, staring at the dish you scrubbed aggressively in your hand.

“Oh dragâ mea” he said, taking a risk and placing one of his hands at the side of your face, gently forcing you to look at him.

“I never believed them when they told us you had failed your trials and passed on. I knew you were stronger than that, and the memories of what we had, kept me strong enough to escape from those bastards. I always had hope that you were still out there.”  

You smiled brightly and tears brimmed your eyes, only this time you weren’t afraid to let them fall.

“I never stopped loving you, Y/n. Even when I thought you were dead.” And there went your tears, falling down your face as you turned to fully face Pietro as you wrapped your soapy hands around his neck.

“I love you too Pietro, the memories I have with you are the best ones I’ve remembered since I came back.”

He laughed lightly and brought his forehead to yours “so glad to hear you finally snapped out it, my love.”

“How could I have been so blind? I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you when you first visited me.” You admitted shyly

“It’s okay, I waited so patiently for years. A few more weeks wasn’t going to kill me” you laughed as your noses touched. His breath was fanning over your face and you didn’t dare break your eyes away from his.

“If you can promise not to slap me... we could always try that kiss again?” He said slyly, but you only sighed happily.

“I promise.” And that was all he needed. Pietro closed the small space between the two of you and pressed his soft lips to yours. The moment was nothing but pure bliss as you inhaled his sweet scent.

You pulled away somewhat reluctantly and smiled up at the man in front of you.

“Does that mean we’re together again?” He asked kindly

“Oh yeah, and good luck getting rid of me this time speedy.” You joked, tangling your fingers in the ends of his hair at the back of his neck.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, dragosté” he said, leaning down and bringing you in for a much more passionate kiss.

—

A/N

Ahhh hi everyone!! I truly haven't gotten this many imagines out in years and it feels so good. I turned on “The Greatest Showman” and five minutes later was struck with inspiration and somehow came up with this, which is actually kind of based off the song “Snap Out of It” by the Arctic Monkeys. I’ve been so obsessed with Pietro Maximoff/Arron Taylor Johnson lately, honestly it's ridiculous. Anyways I really hope you all enjoyed this imagine and remember, feedback is always welcomed and requests are encouraged!

Much Love,

—Skyler

[justalost4girl]

" If anything can go wrong, it will."

Good night!! (Here it's still night :p )

A few weeks ago I said I would do a oneshot Lorraine Broughton x F! Reader, but it got too big so I decided to follow the initial idea and turn it into a mini series. I have two chapters written and I'm going to post them here and in Ao3, I think there will be 3 or 4 chapters in total, but I'm not sure yet.

English is not my first language, so all mistakes are mine.

Enjoy!!

warnings: mention of violence, R cursing, forgery of documents (?)

Words: 4573

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1989

Berlin, East Side

You feel in your bones, when you wake up, the consequences of last night and think that the famous Murphy's Law decided to test you. On this side of the wall few things go right, but having an order in your head two days after joining STASI's wanted list proves that nothing is so bad it can't get any worse. Courtesy of a dumb customer who messed with the wrong people and thought revealing where you find your customers would be enough information to escape death. The Local Gang (or Angels, as they call themselves) loves to eliminate competition from the market.

Now he's dead and you have to deal with the STASI AND the Local Gang (you refuse to call them Angels).

The local fucking gang that sent a team of idiots to break into your favorite bar and made you run out the back door before meeting a customer who was going to pay well. The local fucking gang who must be pissed that you shot the six dumbest members you've ever had to face in your life. No really fatal shots, but of course that won't matter as they do business with the KGB.

Sometimes you want to ignore the rules you've made for yourself, especially "never kill someone unless it's in defense of yourself or someone you love", but you think killing six agents who don't have the ability to set up an ambush of success would be a great waste of bullets. Now you know you're going to have to leave town soon and you have no idea how to break the news to your brother/partner, how do you honorably abandon a war before it's over?

Damn Murphy's Law

You know you need to sort this out, but you refuse to stay in bed crying over what's already written and decide to leave the wonderful Egyptian linen sheets you got from your favorite client last month to face the world and it's impossible to face the world without a good amount of coffee. After a quick shower with a cup of Blue Mountain in hand, your newest addiction, you sit in a robe in a nice armchair, look out the window at dying Berlin and thank heaven for the comfortable life you've earned by working with one of the greatest smugglers on this side of the wall, perhaps from all over Germany. Some desperate customers offer you valuable items from them in exchange for passports and unlike your idiot “brother”, you don't have a rule about only receiving cash. Almost everything here comes from gifts, from the sofa, pictures, bags, clothes and even some books on your shelf. You don't even remember buying that cup, or the coffee set, for gods' sake.

If he saw you now he'd complain about being soft with customers and say something about how items aren't a bargaining chip in the real world, you'd get into a tiresome discussion about enjoying the finer things in life and how bills don't compare in the importance of yours. silver chain with moon pendant that was once an amulet for more than three generations for a French family.

At the end of the day, Merkel has a large information network and an office that takes up half the block, where she keeps as much money as she has secrets, and you have a house decorated by other people where each object symbolizes someone you've helped.

Four walls don't make a house

The thought takes away some of the almost peace you feel and you decide to finish your coffee before it gets cold.

After a quick glance at the calendar you remember about the march that will take place in Alexanderplatz square and decide to go scream for Germany one last time, hopefully you'll be able to hide long enough to see the fall of the damn wall that divides this country. It's not your country, not really, you don't even like to remember how you got here, but the experiences you gained wouldn't be exchanged for anything, not even for an original Van Gogh. Also, Merkel asked you to go and bring a black umbrella, the reason was not explained and you didn't feel like asking, sometimes you think Gordon Merkel is not his name, but how to judge the man who is your only family in this end of the world? You smile when you remember that he shouldn't have an umbrella with a story as cool as his and decide to piss him off for it.

Your phone rings, and you notice you've lost track of time. Merkel was helping a blonde woman named L, he didn't give you more details other than a few stories about how she was a perfect and dangerous assassin that you should keep your distance, as few people know how to deal with her. You thought he overreacted, but you had to take over some business from him while she was in town. She seemed important considering the way he told you about her and you knew better than to deny help to the person who always supported you and declared himself a brother, you trusted him because not even the best agent in the world could fake so much sincerity and affection in claiming this title for himself.

You reach out, pick up the phone, and decide to answer it. “Hey little sister, how are you out there? I called to say that everything is fine for dinner today, but there was a mishap and the wine ran out, bring the best Bordeaux you have, I'll return the courtesy as soon as possible." A code, of course.

He needs your services ASAP. Wine is a passport, Bordeaux means two elements, courtesy involves a child.

You can combine business with pleasure "Hi brother. I'm looking forward to today, I'll take the best wine I have, don't worry. I already know how you can thank me. I need to clean the house and go to the office first, but I'll be there on time. wait for me." you say in a voice that oozes normalcy, you never know when someone's listening on the phone especially now that you're a fugitive, disgraced customer. Your body sinks into the armchair noticing the oncoming cloud of worry

Merkel now knows you need his help, as cleaning the house means getting away and going to the office shows you're in a hurry.

"Alright, do you want me to send the driver?" He asks like he's not freaking out and offering the bloody job of one of his mercenaries

“No, bro, thanks, I know the way.” You say as if you really have an escape plan besides getting a fake passport, emergency backpack and all the money you can find.

“See you later, don't forget the wine. Are you sure you don't want the driver?" You wonder if he has forgotten that knowing the way literally means everything is fine

“Relax, see you later” It takes a few seconds for him to hang up and you can hear his sigh.

He will be SO pissed.

You put the phone down as you get up to gather the passport forgery materials and put them in a briefcase. Your cookbook is already there along with some banknotes from different countries. As you pick up the black backpack of standard clothes and accessories that always waited for you in the corner of the door, you decide to wear the first jacket you bought, the dark blue jeans, the combat boots you got from a skinhead, the wristwatch you bought. you got for your brother's birthday, thick leather gloves and a thin white shirt that matches the rest of your outfit. After all, if you can die when you open the door, then die well dressed. Be sure to keep the Colt 1911 around your waist and the Russian dagger around your ankle, after yesterday you never know, Your pocket watch with the coat of arms of the Brazilian imperial family indicates that 15 minutes have passed since Merkel's phone call

You take one last look at the house you've been so proud of in recent years, snap a photo with the Polaroid you've won, and, with a bittersweet smile, close the door. One day when the wall comes down, the government changes and your face is forgotten, you can come back here, until then you will have to make do with the photo album you keep in your backpack and this photo.

Putting on your sunglasses, you arrive on the street and decide to take a taxi on the other corner, make sure you look around before leaving your home, no one knows your address, but you can't be sure the local gang is so stupid to the point of not following you after last night.

Getting a taxi was relatively easy. Neil, the driver, thanks to the boots, mistook you for a revolutionary and talked for 10 minutes about how he hoped he could take down the wall with his bare hands, you thought it was cool, but as you passed the big river that was just a few blocks away from the your brother's office, you couldn't hear a word from him.

A sign signaling that the river was closed to visitors made your eyes fill with tears. You used to go there when the day was bad, spread a blanket in a corner and watch the stars, or just laugh at the distinct reflection the water made of the moon and stars. Merkel accompanied you on anniversaries, justifying them as bonding experiences. After some freaks started swimming in the river and executions increased, STASI took over and you replaced the dark water for the restaurant's bright lights. But seeing it tightly closed gave him a feeling of anguish and rancor. You would silently curse the wall builders for the rest of the trip.

Neil seemed to notice but didn't comment on it, you thanked him, wiped your tears and left a good tip as you descended a block away from your final destination. This time you didn't need to look around because even though Merkel was super busy, he made sure to leave some security close to where your landing place was.

A tall man dressed in a red T-shirt approached you and hugged you as if he hadn't seen you in a long time. You've known him since the beginning of last year, when he arrived at Merkel's office begging for a job, and from the first moment the way he turned grief over his brother's death into a thirst for revolution made you admire the young man. The two of you walked through the great gate hand in hand as you asked about his life with genuine interest, and Klaus increasingly believed in Merkel's theory about you having such a pure heart that you didn't care about motivation or the number of lives they took, your explanation of the judgment not being your responsibility, crossed the man's head before he escorted you to the main office.

You thanked him with a smile, opened the door and stood in front of the table in the windowless room, where your brother was already waiting for you.

"What the hell happened? Are you okay? I was about to send J to get you, please tell me what happened"—he said hurriedly as he got up and pointed at the couch for you to sit on. J was one of the most dangerous women in the building and you were grateful for not wasting her time.

Putting your backpack and umbrella aside, you answered:

"I'll explain later, little brother, now let me help you. You need passports urgently, don't you?" Yes, you were stalling and postponing the conversation. He'd call you an idiot for going out on the street right after you got on the wanted list, and he'd feel guilty when he found out why you didn't tell him. Merkel wasn't going to understand that her fear of failing him was no one's fault but yourself.

Your sentence seemed to give him some responsibility back, but still, as he held out a glass of water for you, his eyes met yours with a glint that warned that this conversation was far from over.

"Yeah, I really do, but don't think I'm going to forget about it. Let's talk when this is all over. Even if it's the last thing I do today."

You accepted the glass with a bit of trepidation and stood up towards the large center table while opening the briefcase with the supplies you were going to need, if Merkel noticed the bills he didn't say anything. Once at the table, you made two passports for mother and daughter in record time. According to the clock, 10 minutes passed, faster than a car, this deserves a celebration. It would have been six if Merkel hadn't been so curious to make you waste time pulling your watch out of your pocket just for him to analyze.

Everything was going well and there was only one last detail for mother and daughter to be taken by one Percival to the other side of the wall. Percival, according to Merkel, was strange and fickle. Unreliable and extremely dangerous, you should also keep your distance from him, as this man had crucial contacts on both sides of the wall.

"He must have fewer contacts than you", you would answer

If a loud noise didn't break the silence

The annoying noise of the door creaking made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and you almost missed the last signature, it made your body vibrate with irritation and your eyes follow to the offensive source of the sound. A tall man with short hair and blue eyes was holding the doorknob with a military posture and before you could release your anger and explain something about how people shouldn't be violent inside Merkel's office you noticed he was accompanied by a woman.

AND WHAT A WOMAN!

Your eyes connected to a pair of fierce, intent green eyes, surrounded by a pale skin tone and hair so blond it looked like snow. The barely perceptible frown showed she was surprised to find someone other than Merkel there, yet she looked ready for a battle. You looked into her eyes again and nodded in acknowledgment, this must be L, the woman he was talking about.

She looked at you suspiciously, but also as if she could see into your soul, and what must have been frightening, you found endearing. A few stories of murders orchestrated by her crossed your mind, but all you could imagine is how beautiful she must be when she's mad.

They say green eyes darken when we're high on adrenaline, does that happen to her?

Her analysis of the intriguing blonde ends when she notices that the man accompanying her has raised his voice and from his furious expression, it's not the first time he's repeated the question. You interrupt him before you hear him and make sure to direct the ghost of anger before him:

"Have you lost your mind? Who walks into the office without knocking? Surely you should be here asking about passports, but if it weren't for my experience and steady hands, they would be in the trash by now. Learn to be civilized. You're under two paws not four, so act human and not animal" you say in an explosive but articulate tone to make sure he understands what you say. Sometimes when you speak fast, you are betrayed by faulty diction. Not today. Today you want this man to feel every fiber of irritation that went through his body.

Hearing Merkel holding a nervous laugh, you try to relax, but judging by the cold, almost murderous look of the man in the doorway, you've definitely gotten yourself in trouble. Looking at the organized clothes, you notice it's an old police uniform, probably taken by your brother, and unless Merkel has hired new employees, you've never seen it around here. His eyes snap back to his and something inside you warns that this must be Percival. He probably wants to kill you.

Damn Murphy's Law

A brief silence settles in the room and you shake off the fear and turn away, refusing to play the glaring game with a man who almost spoils your art. On other days you might look at him at a party, but today you want to make him swallow the ink on the stamp in his hands and invite the blonde to dinner

And it's her voice that breaks the silence.

You're flipping through the two passports for failures when she says

"Sorry, miss. My friend is an unprecedented idiot. Shall I close the door and knock again? Perhaps your highness too--"

You turn her body towards her when you hear the slightest hint of irony in her tone and interrupt her with a fake smile as you look into her eyes.

"It's not necessary, I accept your apology, Miss. I always said that Merkel should have someone armed at the door to remind everyone of the need to knock on the door. Anyone who didn't knock would lose his mind as the law of my reign says. Perhaps I should start. for him, since the top head is the last thing he wears lately" you joke look at Merkel who doesn't seem offended by the statement, shrugging you look at those blue eyes again and say "the passports are ready. Let's get out of here."

You close the passports, reach for your backpack and umbrella and start moving towards the door, both agents let you lead the way and judging by the blonde's expression, she's not used to being interrupted, nor is she used to seeing someone talking like that with Merkel, but today it was acceptable. You really think she's adorable, but you know better than to let someone make fun of you, especially in front of your brother who wouldn't let you forget about it. Either she doesn't care, or she's a great actress. Anyway, that idiot is still by her side and you refuse to be the reason for his possible laugh.

Her friend probably didn't have the same acting classes and his resemblance to the local gang members, like he's going to kill you in the blink of an eye in a cowardly way, is almost frightening. If Merkel hadn't said L is a woman, you'd be scared. It makes you shiver a little and look for Merkel, but he's not following you. Looking over his shoulder you see him putting a few more piles of dollars and euros into your briefcase. With a snap of your fingers you get his attention and before you walk out the door, you hear the briefcase click closing.

Once out of the room, you look around and realize that nothing has really changed, all faces are familiar, except for three people: a couple talking to a child. After a brief analysis you find yourself facing the passport clients, mother and daughter. The man doesn't look older than 60 and has kind eyes, almost as if he doesn't live on this side of the wall.

They don't seem to notice you

Your observation is interrupted by Merkel's loud, proud voice, right behind you. Here it comes

"This is Elizabeth Loyd and Percival, two trusted clients. Elizabeth and Percival, this is my little sister, she will be on the march today, if you need anything in the future you can talk to her."

Hearing her name, you notice that Merkel really wasn't creative at all. Who would use the initial letter of a surname as a symbol? Anyone who heard the stories about L and met a loyde who knows a Merkel would make the connection. As you turn around, you swallow your nervousness and try to put on your best smile as you say your name to them. The blonde woman who finally has a name, Elizabeth, leans closer, her eyes never leaving yours, and you wonder if she can feel the jumble of emotions that is unraveling inside you.

She smiles a smile that makes you sure she does and reaches out and greets you with a firm grip, if she noticed the sweat on your hands, she didn't let on. She also looks a little more comfortable.

Maybe because she noticed you said her real name, idiot.

You hate yourself for one second and the next you want to be without gloves because it feels soft and warm.

The man, Percival, comes next and looks at you suspiciously and the smile fades from your face, you wonder if no one else can smell the strong smell he gives off, a smell of cheap whiskey and arrogance. Still, he holds out his hand and this time you thank the gods for the gloves. Make sure you don't bow your head or fail in your posture. He still looks at you like you killed his son. Useless even to pretend, for God's sake.

Merkel watches the exchange from afar and nods to Elizabeth, she responds and Percival walks away looking uneasy. You look around uncomprehendingly, feel a little left out, and wonder which computer must have Tetris installed.

You would kill for a distraction right now.

Going out on the street in a crowded march while being chased by two groups still makes you sick.

Your brother approaches and extends his hands around you. You've missed him for the past few weeks. He still wears the perfume you gave him for his birthday and it makes you sink deeper into the hug. You know he's going to be mad when he finds out what happened so you enjoy as much affection as you can

"Little sister, in addition to our conversation I need to tell you something" his voice is low in tone and you doubt you would understand the words if you weren't so close to him "but I can't do that until the march is over. Meet me at usual table at the restaurant where we celebrate our achievements, It's very important"

His even low voice is charged with strong emotion and you are genuinely worried, Merkel has never been like this before.

"I'll do it, brother, I promise. Whatever it is, we can work it out together" you say with all the certainty you can muster in your voice, because you need him to understand that this is true.

You feel eyes on you and as you look up you notice that Elizabeth keeps an eye on your exchange with Merkel while talking to the little girl's father, from the distance she probably can't understand anything and you don't know if she celebrates or cares with so much attention received. A little further away is a Percival who pretends to be busy with the coat he's wearing. He also pays attention to your exchange, but his talent for discretion is as effective as his ability to open doors.

Your eyes return to the concentrated blue eyes that are in front of you and Merkel speaks in an almost inaudible way:

"When I whistle, I need you to raise your open umbrella and stay alert. The three people we're going to cross are very important, nothing can go wrong. But if it does, I'll be at the restaurant, whatever happens find me there."

Noticing the proximity of Percival and Elizabeth, you place your hand on your brother's shoulder and smile as you speak a little louder:

"Don't worry man, it's always a pleasure to help you. I'll leave my briefcase here, then meet you to get it. Good march."

Merkel shows that she understands his strange move and smiles, you greet some friends of his that you haven't seen in a while and as you head towards the exit, you meet a pair of deep green eyes. Elizabeth is gleaming in the cold lights that are refracted by the mosaic of the gate, she looks into your eyes, ever alert, looks at the object in your hands and nods her head with a half smile, do you think the guard's idea black rain was hers.

As you wave back, you can feel that a pair of eyes haven't left your back since the moment of your brother's embrace, as the old man is saying goodbye to the family, you know who they belong to and decide not to look for them. If the STASI, KGB or local gang find you, he doesn't own the pair of eyes you want to remember before you die.

Taking a deep breath, you walk through the gate and blend into the crowd.

..........................................................................................................................

After leaving Merkel's office block, you take a hat out of your backpack and wear your sunglasses as you look around, not that a local gang member is here but because if he sees you in disguise he will ask a series of questions and he has enough problems already, plus STASI must be monitoring this area and the last thing you want is to be arrested. You decide to tuck your coat into your backpack to change your look, and while internally debating your ability to ignore the cold, your eyes catch the almost snowy blond hair in the crowd.

This signals that they are already on the march and you decide to get a little closer to them, but make sure you do this without drawing attention to yourself since the nasty man is still there. Elizabeth is on your diagonal absorbing all the extraneous details that might be a possible threat, she seems so focused on the job of passing the owner's gentle eyes in a safe way that it makes you wonder how important he is and if she's noticed you.

A few meters later a familiar noise floats through the march and you open the umbrella almost instantly, as do other protesters.

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Percival taking the man's family across and sometime later Elizabeth does the same. You notice that her posture has changed and when she decides to stop for a better look, the crowd drags her and you can no longer locate her.

Her feet continue forward and as some signs are raised by the protesters, you try to find your brother. Unsuccessfully. You decide to trust their ability and hope that you can meet him again at the restaurant.

You also want Elizabeth to be okay.

Continuing on the march, after two or three long blocks you notice the familiar silhouette of one of the STASI bosses, he is watching the crowd as if looking for someone, but he doesn't seem to notice you. You notice observers on top of buildings and decide to leave the streets. Whether it's the Local Gang, KGB or STASI itself you don't know and decide you don't want to know.

Your brain tries to design routes to escape and your body mimics the movements of the closest protesters so as not to draw attention to you, but when some agents in black point in your direction and make space in the crowd, you run between people to seek shelter in somewhere you know and at every step you are sure that the day will be worse than you thought.

Damn Murphy's Law

[dokoni-mo]

Nights Like These || All for One x F!Reader

Summary: You were his favorite.

SFW // not fluff but not angst

Word Count: 2802

WARNINGS: obsessive behavior, toxic behavior/mindsets, manipulation, possessive behavior, all for one is evil as usual, fear tactics, some sensual touching, kisses, mentions of death if you squint, swearing, age gap relationship of you squint, but reader is depicted to be in their late 20s, also the fact I also didn't proofread this one lmao (pls forgive me I was working on this at like 3 am).

A/N: This takes place before AFO became the potato man. This is my take on how he would be like in a "relationship". If you want some PRIME AFO content, however, AND ARE THE AGE OF 18 OR OVER, go check out @nonobadcat 's story A Hypnotic Nightmare. It's one of my favs atm (also, badcat, if you're reading this, i haven't forgotten about the fanart! i've just had a lot on my plate bc of the end of school. im terribly sorry if it seemed like i left you hanging).

~~

You hated armored black vans.

Ever since meeting him you knew exactly what they meant.

They would come to you when you least expected it, and often when you really didn't want them to. You could be anywhere in the world, and one would always find a way to roll up next to you. If you tried to outwalk them, they would just drive faster. If you pretended to ignore them, they would cut you off in your tracks.

Persistent little shits.

Just like him.

This time, it was late into the night when one rolled up next to you. You hadn't seen one in some days beforehand, and was relishing in that fact when the dread-vehicle rumbled up next to you. You had just gotten done doing some late-night grocery shopping for yourself, looking decent but in no way perfect. Sighing through your nose, you gave the tinted windows of the van the glare of your life, trying in vain attempt to get it to just piss off.

Even though that tactic never worked before, it would never stop you from trying.

The van pulled up to the curb next to you and slowed to a stop. Seeing as there was no way you could run or try to ignore it now, you stopped in your tracks, clenching your plastic grocery bags tighter. A moment later, the van rolled it's driver's side window down, revealing the driver to you. You didn't recognize this one; it wasn't one in his normal rotation.

You wondered if he killed one of the other ones, and this one was the replacement.

Looking into the eyes of the driver, you shot him another glare, your face morphing into a frown. This didn't seem to phase the man, however, since he just stared back at you with a blank expression.

You knew you weren't that threatening, but, come on. At least show something.

"What is it?" you questioned the man, your voice firm and serious. Although you already knew the answer to that, you prayed to whoever was listening that it would be a different answer this time.

"He wants to see you."

No dice.

You let out another sigh through your nose, this time more frustrated and annoyed than the last one.

"I just saw him the other day," you tried to bargain, "and I have ice cream in here. Can it wait until tomorrow?"

The driver shook his head, "Sorry, miss. He wants you now."

Your face assumed a deeper frown. It wasn't often that these drivers made it known to you how persistent he was being in seeing you. This made a lump form in the bottom of your stomach. What did he want this time? Another date? Quality time? Or just to remind you of who you belonged to?

You hoped it was one of the former two.

Looking from side to side nervously, you swallowed the lump in your throat before speaking again, "Can I at least put my groceries in my apartment first?"

The driver shook his head, "We can get someone to do it for you, miss. But we need to leave. Now."

Damn, this driver really meant business.

Finally admitting defeat, you slowly took a few steps towards the van, watching as the large, jet-black doors rolled itself open for you. Leaning down, you set your bags on the clean, vacuumed floor of the van, ducking down and pushing yourself inside next. The driver watched you in the rear-view mirror, making sure that you sat down and buckled your seatbelt. Once you were safe in the backseat, he shut the door to the van and pulled out into the street again, driving noticeably careful.

A soft sense of dread washing over you, you leaned up against the van door and planted your elbow on the armrest, resting your chin in your palm. Not feeling up for friendly chat with the man driving you, you fixated your gaze out the window, watching as the neon lights of Japan rushed by you.

You wondered which location you would be at today.

He seemed to have spots everywhere across the world.

You hoped it was the Tokyo one. That one had your favorite food and view.

Hugging yourself closer to the door, you tried to ignore the dread winding up in your stomach. You tried your best to just focus on how pretty the lights looked at night, but couldn't help but have your mind linger back to the racing thoughts that plagued your head.

You wished your friend had never introduced you to his stupid fucking cult. He would deny over and over that it was a cult, but it was a cult. You had been quirkless for so long, and content being so all your life. But, when your friend told you about the man she met that could give you your very own quirk, you would be lying if you said you weren't intrigued.

Biggest mistake of your entire fucking life.

~~

Alas to you, the driver didn't take you to the Tokyo location. It ended up being the Osaka location. You felt rather disappointed by this.

The driver was at least nice enough to help you out of the car and escort you into the hands of your body guards for the night. The guards quickly surrounded you, almost suffocating you by how close they were. After relaying the message that you had arrived, the guards practically drug you into the tall, looming building.

You wondered when the next time you could go outside would be.

Going through the doors, you were greeted with the familiar sight of clean, shiny marble floors, your feet clacking against them as they always did. Everything about the building was ornate but simple, reminding you of some fancy hotel.

It was so fucking obnoxious.

Only one dude and occasionally yourself lived here. And not even full time.

It make you frown.

Eventually, the guards and yourself made your way to the elevators. When one eventually came down (it didn't take long because you were most likely some of the only people in the building), all of you packed in the elevator like a fucking clown car. You were shoulder-to-shoulder with the much taller guards, suffocating on their cologne.

The dead silence in the elevator made you wanna puke.

~~

The guards left you once you were at the door.

You were now all alone in the hallway, the tall, dark, looming door before you. Your fingertips were trembling, yet you didn't know if it was out of fear or anticipation.

He probably already knew you were here. Why did you even have to go through this step? Just for his sick kicks?

Most likely.

You didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

You swallowed and closed your eyes, taking a few deep breaths in and out of your nose. You had to give yourself a pep talk before you could lift up your hand, curling your knuckles to knock on the door.

You stopped before you could knock even once. If there was any time to run, this is it. If you could just-

No. It's impossible.

God how you knew it was impossible.

No matter where you went, no matter what you did, he seemed to always know.

You've seen him angry before. It ran shivers down your spine and made you contemplate whether or not there was an afterlife or not.

You didn't want to know how he was like when he was pissed off. Especially if it was directed towards you.

And, you knew, trying to get away from him was a sure as fuck way to royally piss him off.

Taking in one last deep breath, you put on your brave face and knocked on the door, feeling your dread become almost overwhelming in your gut.

You wet your lips before you spoke.

"It's me."

...

Silence.

Your head perked up at the nothingness that greeted you back. Was he not here anymore? Did he leave for a different place without telling you?

You opened your mouth to say something again, but quickly shut it again.

Could you... leave? Go home?

This was definitely a first.

As soon as your excitement welled up, however, you were quickly shot down again from the deep voice behind the door.

"Come in."

Fuck.

Squaring your shoulders and putting on your bravest face, you gingerly opened the door and stepped through, leaning your back against the wood as you shut it again.

Why did you do this to yourself? So willingly walk into the lion's den?

It didn't take you long to remember.

Fear.

Looking inside the room, the lighting was moody to say the least. Barely anything was turned on, and it was so deafeningly quiet, sans the sounds of the city below and the hum of the AC.

Scanning the room with your eyes, you felt your stomach do a flip when you landed on the man of the hour.

The man who had taken over your life for the past three years.

Him.

Shigaraki. Or, as he was known by everyone who wasn't you, All for One.

Probably the most feared man in Japan. Hell, the world even.

Christ on a fucking bike.

He was seated on the couch that faced the door, his usual sly smirk on his face. One of his legs was crossed over the other, and he seemed to had shed his black coat long ago. His crimson eyes bore right into the very fiber of your being, right into your very soul. His presence was so fucking overwhelming it made you feel like you couldn't breathe. The amount of power that dripped off that man was uncanny.

It always made you wonder what he wanted with quirkless little you.

Unable to maintain eye contact with him for any longer, you dropped your gaze to the floor, your back still pressed against the door. Even though you couldn't see him anymore, you could feel his eyes on you, raking up and down your body.

You prayed that this night went by quickly.

"You're late, little one." He said to you, making your shoulders tense up.

"I..." you began, your nervousness painfully obvious as you brushed your hair behind your ear, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be."

All for One let out a hum, and you could practically fucking feel his smirk grow bigger from across the room.

You wondered if he knew that you were only half telling the truth, or if he was just that delusional.

After a moment, he spoke again.

"Come into the light, darling. Let me get a good look at you."

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you hesitated for a brief second, your fingertips twitching against the wood of the door. Seeing no possible way out, you decided it was best to just do what he said. Pushing yourself off the door, you took small, timid steps into the light, keeping your gaze down on the floor. Awkwardly trying to figure out what you should do with your hands, you decided on clasping them in front of you, picking at the skin around your nails.

You could really feel his eyes on you now.

He looked you over for what felt like an eternity before he said something else, making your eyes flicker back up to him.

"There's no need to be shy, my dear," he said, sensing how nervous you were, "There's nothing to be concerned about. You know I would never harm you."

You wanted to snort out a laugh, but decided against it. Yes, he had never hurt you before, but you doubted it was out of his realm of capability.

Not knowing what to respond with, you simply just nodded, turning your attention back to your hands.

Shigaraki continued to stare at you for a good long while, his red eyes lingering on your cute face and nervous eyes.

Fucking hell you were just too adorable.

After a good second, All for One lifted up his hand, making you look up at him. He was holding his palm out to you, his usual smirk on his face.

"Come here." He said.

Shit, he was getting serious tonight.

Your cheeks tinting a faint pink, you forced your feet to raise up and make you walk across the room. Once you were close enough, you put your hand into his, watching it as it was nearly swallowed by the sheer size of his palm. Knowing exactly what he wanted, you slipped yourself in between his long, thick legs and sat back into his lap. Your side was nuzzled into the crook of his armpit, his strong arm wrapping itself around your waist to keep you in place. Just like he liked, you rested your head against All for One's shoulder, gently lying your hands across his broad chest. This seemed to please him greatly, since he put his other hand on your lower thigh, gently rubbing circles into the side of your knee with his thumb.

You must really be fucking insane.

Gently, Shigaraki pressed a gentle kiss into your hair, mumbling out a quiet good girl in the process.

You couldn't stop the pink dust from spreading across your cheeks.

"How was your day today, darling?" He asked you, the rumble of his voice in his chest loud in your ears.

You hummed before speaking.

"It was okay..." you said, feeling the hand on your side gently stroking up and down.

"You had a lot to do, didn't you?" He asked, making you glance up at him.

Of course he fucking knew about your goddamned errands and job.

"Yeah..." you said, "I was expecting to go back home and chill the rest of the night, but..."

Shigaraki let out a chuckle at this. You didn't have to finish your thought for him to know what you meant.

"Oh, I'm sorry, little one." He said, pressing another kiss to your temple, "I know you must be tired."

You nodded in response, maybe a bit too eagerly.

"I just couldn't bear another second without you, darling." He continued, tracing circles on your thigh this his pointer and middle finger, "I just had to have my special girl with me tonight."

You shifted your weight in his lap, looking up at him, "Did something happen?"

Shigaraki chuckled at this, reaching up and brushing the hair out of your face, "Let's just say I had some... family issues tonight, my dear."

Family?

Shigaraki had family?

This was definitely a first.

You couldn't help but to be nosy.

"Family?" you asked.

"Oh, nothing for you to be concerned about, my sweet girl." He said, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

"You never told me you had family." You pressed, not wanting to let the subject go.

"You never needed to know, small one. Besides, it would be too dangerous for you to meet them anyhow."

"Dangerous?"

"There's a possibly they would try to take you from me."

"I highly doubt you would let that happen."

He chuckled, "As clever as always, my darling."

"What are their names?"

"Let's move on from his, my love."

"But I-"

"Are you hungry, dear? I can have someone fetch you something."

"Shigaraki, I just-"

"I said no."

A shiver went down your spine and you were quick to shut your mouth. You knew what that tone meant. It meant shut up or you get a punishment.

You always just chose to shut up.

Seemingly pleased at your compliance, Shigaraki assumed his usual smirk again and planted a kiss on your cheek, rubbing more small circles into your side.

"Have I told you how radiant you look tonight, my dear?" He asked you.

Not feeling in the mood to talk anymore, you just shook your head no.

"You always look gorgeous to me, my dear. Every single piece of you."

Pulling you closer to his chest, he lifted up your chin and looked deep into your eyes.

"My special girl. My favorite."

Closing the distance between the two of you, All for One pressed his lips to yours, stealing your breath away. His kisses were always just like him: strong, confident, and dominating.

Kissing Shigaraki always filled you with a whirling of emotions. Perhaps it was because you were tired that night, or perhaps it was because of the air, but you allowed yourself to fully enjoy his kiss. The feeling of his hands on you, the feeling of how small he made you feel, the feeling of his power radiating off his skin...

He always had this affect on you. When you were apart from him, you found it hard to love him.

But, when you were together...

you found it hard to stop.

[itsthestutterforme]

Shuriken (Jang Hanseok)

Summary: Y/N is a mercenary with a particular knack for knives and torture. Hanseok hired her as his new body guard against Vincenzo, little did he know that her and Vincenzo have a history. A dark history.

Characters: Jang Hanseok x mercenary!reader (implied sex), Vincenzo x mercenary!reader (past lovers), Jang Hanseo x reader (platonic), Ms. Choi x reader (platonic)

--

You hated jet lang with a passion. You would think that since you're a mercenary, that you're fine with traveling but you really hated it. You pull up your turtle neck to cover your maliscous scar across your neck. It's not that it bothers you to show it, you just didn't feel like explaining to others that someone tried to kill you and failed.

You take a taxi from the Incheon International Airport to the location your employer asked you to meet him. He was explicit with making sure that you get all the luxuries plus the 500k and that you never leave his side. He's definitely paranoid. But this isn't the first time you've had a paranoid employer.

Hopefully, he's not a crazy one. You'vs had enough with the crazy employers. The taxi drops you off at a fairly large, modern-looking house. But from the looks of it, it does not take much to break in here. You'll suggest installing some deadlocks and bullet proof cameras.

You pay the driver before hopping out of the car with your luggage. He drives away and just as you approach the gate, the door buzzes open. You walk in and are instantly greeted by four people, three men and a women. Two of the men looked young, they're probably brothers. The other man and woman looked older.

"I'm Jang Hanseok, this is my brother, Jang Hanseo and my lawyers, Ms. Choi and Mr. Hanchul. This is Y/N, the Slicer." "I see you did your research," "A little. Had to know who I was dealing with." "Yeah, and that nickname did not give me any justice. That's one of my least favorite names given to me."

"There's multiple?" "Yeah, there's Ninja, SheWolf, Shredder, Grim Reaper, Death, Queen of Hell, and my favorite, Shuriken." "Shuriken? How did you get that name?" "A talented magician never tells their secrets," you say. "Now, where's my room?" You add.

Over the passed few days, there is not much action to be on high alert. Which leaves random conversations about favorite foods and TV shows.

He doesn't seem like a terrible guy, he has a messed sense of humor though. He even asked a if you've ever been in love before. You answered by pointing to your scar and saying, "Once, unfortunately,"

You were walking through the parking garage to get the car after having dinner with Hanseok and the rest of his crew when you hear tires screeching. There was a black van next to you and the doors flew open Instinctively, you push Jang Hanseok behind you.

A dozen of guys with masks pile out of the car with their own weapons. They rush towards you and you take out a few thin shurikens from your sleeves and flick your wrists forwards. They hit two men in their throats and you duck under the arm of a man with a wrench.

You grab his arm and throw him to the ground and just when another man headed towards you, you take out your ninjato sword. Clicking the button, it springs into it's full length and you slice across the man's chest.

His blood sprays across your face before he falls to the ground and the man you threw to the ground is starting to get up.

You cut his throat and knee him in the face before ducking and weaving through their blows, cutting their backs and faces along the way. One managed to take your ninajto sword from your hands so you took out your daggers.

Stabbing his heart, you take out the blade before drop kicking him towards his remaining four comrades. They all fall to the ground and before they could get up, you threw a dagger through one of their eye sockets.

The three of them rush towards you and you swing your leg under one of them, tripping him. Then you one with a roundhouse kick and the other with a jumping back kick.

"Now, which of you wants to run back to you boss and say that Shuriken is in town?" You ask breathlessly. They look to each other and one of them hops into the van and drives away. "Well.." you state and before they could run away, you use two more shurikeins that cuts through their throats.

You turn around to see Hanseo, Ms. Choi and Mr. Hanchul looking at you with both fear and shock. You tried to wipe away the blood from your face as you look at Hanseok. He smiles at you with a dark look in his eyes. "Let's go," you suggest.

**

Since you fought those amateurs in the parking garage, Jang Hanseok has been more around you a lot more than usual. It's almost like he was attracted to the fact that you killed people without blinking. He buys you everything from food to jewlery.

He doesn't mention who I'm protecting him from. He doesn't even allow his comrades to say his name. They just call him Mafia Bastard. They were celebrating a victory over said Mafia Bastard. It wasn't until he admitted to killing his mother that you realized just how similar you guys were.

Sitting at the table, you read your book and leave your glass of champagne untouched. You started to zone out after they continue to ramble about the Mafia Bastard.

You felt some tensesness in the room when Ms. Choi said, "Did you really think that you would betray the Chairman and I wouldn't find out about it?"

You still don't look up from your book until you heard a silenced gun shot and Ms. Choi's screams. You reach into your belt and aim your gun towards the perpetrator.

His expression matched yours when you realized that it was him.. Vincenzo. The man you loved and betrayed you. The one that gave you that hideous scar.

Without a second thought, you shot his arm and chest. He kneels on the ground and drops his weapon. "Thats impossible, you're dead." He groans. "There were times when I wished I was." He spits out some blood and says, "Y/N, I.. I'm sorry."

You raise the gun again to kill him but you remember Hanseok saying he didn't wabf the Mafia Bastard dead, not yet. "Get the hell out of here," you say, setting your gun on the counter. He stands up from the floor and staggers a little before opening his mouth to talk to you. You raise your hand for him to stop and he complies.

He holds onto his chest and walks slowly out of the building. That's when you notice the dead man on the floor. From the looks of it, he's was tortured to death. He must have been the one who killed his mom. "Why didn't you kill him! We didn't hire you to let people live! We hired you to kill!" Ms. Choi yells.

You look to Hanseok and ask, "You said to keep him alive, is that correct?" "Yes, I did. And we didn't hire anybody, I did, so watch your tone."

You approach her and take out a dagger from your ankle holster. You press the dagger against her throat and said, "Question my intentions like that again, and I'll slit your throat."

With that, you walk out of the lounge room and went into Hanseok's room where the balcony was. "So he's the reason why you have that scar," Hanseok says, stepping on to the balcony with you.

"I don't want to talk about it," you say flatly. "He's the one that's trying to kill me, so you better talk about it."

"Look at me," he adds, turning you around and pressing your back against the railing. "Why do you care? What matters now is that I'm willing to kill him. No, I'm more than willing. I want to kill him." You say as you throw him to the ground and apply pressure to his chest with your knee. Taking out your blade, you press it against his throat.

"I'm not your brother. Put your hands on me again and I will kill you, do you understand?" You add. He nods and you release the pressure from his lungs. You tuck your dagger away in your ankle. When you try to stand up, he pulls you back down and flips you onto your back.

He pins your arms above your head. "What are you doing?" You ask. "I'm trying something," he says before capturing your lips in a burningly slow kiss.

Oddly enough your body eases under his touch and he lets go of your arm. You sit up to pull off your shirt and he pulls off your jeans, slowly kissing up your stomach.

Meanwhile Cha young walks Vincenzo out of the hospital and to his chair. The bullets were through and through, so it didn't take that long to clean and stitch him up. "Who did this to you?" Cha young asks. "I deserved it," "No one deserves to be shot... except Hanseok."

"I.. I don't know how, but I'm going to make it up to her." "Her? A woman shot you?" "A very special woman that I once loved," "Wait, now I'm even more confused. If she was so special then why did she try to kill you?" "Because I tried to kill her."

[ameliagiovanna0]

I’ve never written anything this long after an episode. Not sure what got into me lol. This should be interesting...

 

The opening scene, despite my hatred for Voight, was sweet.

@signsofupstead pointed out Jesse’s New York accent, and now I can’t un-hear it lol. I don’t know how the hell I never noticed it before. I noticed that he pronounced certain words a little differently, but I never put two and two together. *face palm* When he says, “What’s going on? What’s going on?” it’s really obvious.

Are we really going to believe that no one noticed Adam’s gun holstered at his ankle when he and Kevin were pinned down? You can see that his pant leg slid up

“All right. I’m Detective Jay Halstead, badge number 51163. I’m in the Intelligence Unit. My immediate supervisor is Sergeant Hank Voight. He’s standing right over there. You happy?” Why was that so attractive??

Jay and Hailey talked about how they were kind of distant from each other lately. However, can we talk about how they still work flawlessly together??? The foot chase, the “I’m going. You coming?” and she just followed him, the shootout. The smaller moments: the chop shop, the conversations in the van

Side note: Jay's poor truck

Anna getting the drop on Voight? Yes, please! How the hell did she even know where he lived? Even as the episode went on, she wasn’t afraid of him, and I freaking love it.

When Jay pushed Voight about Anna the first time, Hailey was like, “😬”

Jay pushed Voight about Anna the second time and everyone was like, “😬 I hate it when mom and dad fight.” Hailey looking at Jay like, “Babe, really?”

Gotta love the looks Jay was giving Voight.

 And the third time: Jay said, “You can’t be serious.” Then Voight’s face was like, “Now you wanna try me?” The way Kev and Adam looked at each other like, “Mom and dad are fighting again,” and Hailey watching the whole thing like, “😬”

Yeah, Jay is pissed about something else and that’s probably what’s motivating him, but he’s questioned Voight for years. He’s just voicing it out loud now.

Hailey kinda called Jay out on. She forced him to talk to her, which was good, but the scene was hard to watch. Hailey acknowledged and validated Jay’s feelings. That did something to me. “Can I not have a real argument against him? I gotta back him all the time because that’s what you do?” It was my turn to be like, “😬” I get where he’s coming from though.

Hailey said she made her own choices that night, and I'm not sure how to feel about her saying that. She went after Voight to stop him. She was trying to do the right thing, but Voight put her in the situation. He wanted her to kill Roy. She didn’t have a choice in that matter.  She said, “I’m still me. You’re acting like I’m not. You barely talk to me. I don’t know what to do anymore.” That killed me, but they’re in an impossible situation. Jay said he didn’t know what to do either. I think everyone can agree that he’s hurt. I think he is just trying to figure everything out/ process. He’s upset with Hailey. But in a how-could-you-not-tell-me kind of way, not an I-don’t-love-and-trust-you-anymore-and-I-don’t-want-to-marry-you kind of way. He’s still using a softer voice with her, his “Hailey voice” as some people call it. I think if he was truly done (I can’t think of a better word), he would have moved out and stopped using his Hailey voice. He said he was doing the best that he could, that it was the best that he had. The look on Hailey’s face was killer.

That scene was so hard to watch. I think it really speaks to Jesse and Tracy’s acting abilities. They’ve been amazing. Jason too. It’s been a while since I’ve hated a character as much a Voight, and I think that speaks to Jason’s abilities.

I’m also clinging to Jesse and Tracy saying that Jay and Hailey are in it for the long haul, but I am kinda losing hope for them getting married this season. I think, if it’s going to happen this season, it’s going to be during next week’s episode or at some point during the FBI investigation or, and in my opinion less likely, during the season finale.

The scene with the judge in the car… and her dog. That was hilarious.

Jay and Hailey in uniform. *fans self*

Voight said Luis had three bodies on him, and all I could think was, “How many was it for you again?” The conversation between Jay and Voight at the end was something. I was expecting it to be more intense based on the promo, but it was still good. Not over how he said, “Then kick me off it.” *fans self again* I don't remember who said it, but someone said that Jay has never been this distraught over someone he's loved being in danger. It shows how much he cares for Hailey.

The way Voight talked about trust the entire episode had me wanting to vomit. The man's got brass ones

There seems to be a split: people taking Jay (and Hailey’s) side and people taking Voight’s side and saying Jay is a hypocrite. Everybody on Twitter is making fun of everybody on Tumblr taking Voight’s side. I agree with Jay (and Hailey). They’ve both (Jay and Hailey) made mistakes and questionable decisions and done things they shouldn't have, but they are not on the same level as Voight. Nowhere near. Nowhere fucking near. Neither of them has killed someone, burned their body, gone back to work like nothing happened, and covered it up. Voight’s done it twice. I could go on more of a tangent, but I’m going to try not to lol

Ok, the 9x08 promo. When the guy says, “Roy Walton is dead. You covered it up,” the promo makes it seem like he’s talking to Hailey, but all we see is a blurry shoulder. It could be, and I’m hoping it is, Voight. Promos are misleading on purpose. @justmypartner made a point about the whole thing. I really think that the FBI could be using Hailey (not in a bad way) to get to Voight, seeing as they thought she was good enough to offer her a job. If the FBI knows Hailey was “involved,” how could they not know Voight was involved, ya know? Voight has a reputation, Hailey doesn't. There's no way any self-respectinf investigator wouldn't see that.

It’s probably wishful thinking, but I’m hoping this ends up with Voight fired (I’d like to see him in prison, but I really don’t see that happening), Jay taking over the unit, and he and Hailey being the Chicago PD’s power couple. 

[sagamemes]

the sheridan tapes  📼  part one.   here and under the cut, you can find a little under 120 lines of dialogue from the horror podcast the sheridan tapes, specifically from episodes one to three, edited for roleplay purposes.  tw: police, murder, supernatural elements, mentions of apocalyptic scenarios, near death experiences, injuries, vehicular crash, recreational drug and alcohol use.

❝  jesus, [name]. you’re not making this easy, are you?  ❞

❝  makes you wonder... do these things follow me because i chase them, or were they always following me?  ❞

❝  darkness and complete disorientation does a number on the human brain.  ❞

❝  i don't think he was a werewolf.  ❞

❝  i’d call it the customer service smile. you know, the one that says  ‘ thank you for shopping with us, please die now ’.  ❞

❝  i’ve found the more showy the text, the less impressive the actual phenomena.  ❞

❝  my job here is kind of… shaky at the moment.  ❞

❝  [name] was also engaged in the study of the impossible in his free time.  ❞

❝  so it’s just me who drives you up the wall then?  ❞

❝  well, you’ll be happy to hear i haven’t been having any fun. no weed, no ghosts.  ❞

❝  there hasn’t been a new lead on her case in more than half a year.  ❞

❝  so here i am, wrapped up in a blanket, staring at my little fireplace, so bored i actually decided to call my sister for once.  ❞

❝  it’s a little town near bandon. very little. nice little mini-market, and that’s about it.  ❞

❝  i doubt i’ll sleep much tonight. that’s okay. i just feel like looking at the stars for a while.  ❞

❝  it's probably for the best. i am simultaneously exhausted from the drive and absolutely wired from the coffee.  ❞

❝  i wonder if there will still be ghosts out there when that happens?  when the earth is gone?  ❞

❝  glad to hear you’re enjoying yourself, then.  ❞

❝  knowing doesn’t make things any easier, but it does make them a little less frightening.  ❞

❝  that’s all just a lazy way of saying that the real explanation is too difficult—or too horrible—for them to accept.  ❞

❝  it almost killed me, but in the end it settled for putting me in pt for a year while i figured out how to use my hands again.  ❞

❝  he muttered something about my time being up. or maybe he said it wasn’t up.  ❞

❝  i don’t really care that i didn’t get any writing done today.  ❞

❝  nothing. not a single idea worth writing down, no itch i needed to scratch or question i needed to answer.  ❞

❝  guess there really is no such thing as bad press.  ❞

❝  i have no idea what a writer’s  ‘ process ’  usually looks like, but i’m pretty sure it’s not this.  ❞

❝  see what i have to deal with?  god… siblings, am i right?  ❞

❝  what can i say?  i have a soft spot for gothic architecture.  ❞

❝  computers have never been very good at reconciling paradoxes.  ❞

❝  they’re pretty much over funding my little expeditions.  ❞

❝  that kind of smile doesn’t normally show that many teeth.  ❞

❝  you know, that’s only scary the first few times you do it.  ❞

❝  one day, it will be dead. one day all the stars will burn out, go dark and silent. one day, everything will be so dark and so cold that no new stars can ever be born. the old ones will blink out one by one, like candles going out, and then… nothing. silence. darkness. void.  ❞

❝  the simplest explanation is almost always the right one.  ❞

❝  i don’t remember getting in my van, putting the key in the ignition, or speeding away from that house, but i must have.  ❞

❝  no, no, i’m fine, i’m fine, just go bother someone else.  ❞

❝  i haven’t eaten, moved, or written anything all day.  ❞

❝  but maybe that's just the fact that it is two in the morning and my brain is running mostly on caffeine.  ❞

❝  given how good a [job] he is, i know it’s not the first time he’s done it.  ❞

❝  i escaped, but i knew that whatever was in that house has just marked me as prey.  ❞

❝  calm down. think. you’re just going to confuse yourself.  ❞

❝  just wanted to tell you a couple of us are headed out to marvin’s for drinks if you want to come.  ❞

❝  one of the most disappointing things about living in america is the lack of genuinely haunted houses. out of all the supposed haunts i’ve visited, maybe one in ten seems like the real deal.  ❞

❝  sounds… peaceful. not many distractions, then?  ❞

❝  something tells me this tape wasn’t played in court.  ❞

❝  one of the neighbours must have called 911.  ❞

❝  my infamous accident. it almost killed me.  ❞

❝  i just woke up to footsteps in the kitchen. i don’t know who, or what, but there’s someone in here with me!  ❞

❝  could you shut the door on your way out, please?  ❞

❝  uh, wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon.  ❞

❝  the fire that i said went out?  yeah, it just started burning again.  ❞

❝  so i asked him to lie.  ❞

❝  it'd really be just a few of us. maybe me and [name] and one or two other tagalongs…  ❞

❝  apparently, the press had a lot of questions too.  ❞

❝  i’ve driven more than 8 hours and drunk enough bad coffee to give an elephant heart palpitations. i’m sure as hell going to get my money’s worth.  ❞

❝  oh sorry, am i bothering you now? what happened to  ‘ call anytime you want, [name] ’ or,  ‘ you’re always welcome here, [name] ’ ?  ❞

❝  i’ve forgotten to charge my phone. again.  ❞

❝  i… think i’m going to turn around now.  ❞

❝  well sorry if i wanted to have a nice talk with my sister for a change.  ❞

❝  will it just be left there forever? our legacy? look upon our works, ye mighty, and despair?  ❞

❝  no matter how far away from home you are, no matter how different the constellations might look from where you’re standing, you can always look up on a clear, dark night and feel like you’re about to fall right into it—the terrifying, endless expanse of nothingness.  ❞

❝  i know authors can do some crazy things to get out of writer’s block, but i’ve never heard of one resorting to arson.  ❞

❝  why do you always think there’s something wrong?  ❞

❝  ours is not to question why, ours is but to digitize and stay the hell out of trouble.  ❞

❝  so let’s try walking backwards. just keep an eye on it.  ❞

❝  i got lucky. or maybe i was just fast enough to escape.  ❞

❝  maybe there are secret passages behind the walls and corridors.  ❞

❝  no matter how far i walked, i couldn’t find the way i came in.  ❞

❝  well, i /know/ i’ve had worst nights. i just can’t think of any right now.  ❞

❝  i do want you to have fun, [name], i just don’t want you to get yourself killed doing it.  ❞

❝  i mean, obviously, i do care, that’s the whole reason i made this trip. to get away from the noise and focus.  ❞

❝  i might have… forgotten to tell anyone where i was going.  ❞

❝  before i get started, there’s just one thing i need to say. i have absolutely no patience for the unexplained, or the things people call  ‘ unexplainable ’,  ‘ supernatural ’, or  ‘ paranormal ’.  ❞

❝  i told [name] that i needed to get out, to get inspired.  ❞

❝  okay, if someone is messing with me, they’re going to be very sorry, very quickly.  ❞

❝  [name] lied his ass off to save yours.  ❞

❝  a crash like that does funny things to your head.  ❞

❝  i still don’t know how he got there without me noticing.  ❞

❝  any plans i had to travel abroad went up in smoke.  ❞

❝  i thought of pulling out the bad cop routine.  ❞

❝  strange how something so dead can be so beautiful.  ❞

❝  it hated me:  hated what i do, and more than that, hated who i am.  ❞

❝  lots of tall tales. and more than a few ghost stories.  ❞

❝  oh good, you’re still here!  ❞

❝  reviewers absolutely grilled it:  said it was a nonsensical rip off of the dark tower, whatever that means.  ❞

❝  i jumped out the window. cut my hands on the glass, but thankfully not bad enough to need stitches  ❞

❝  i told her, tonight.  ❞

❝  for a minute, i wondered if that would really be so bad. it was a fitting way to go, given my… well, everything.  ❞

❝  i suppose that’s a universal constant—maybe the only one.  ❞

❝  i never let myself get this turned around. especially not at night.  ❞

❝  i don’t know if it’s actually haunted. but if not, then it was sure as hell convincing.  ❞

❝  i’m not one of those people who thinks she’s the spawn of satan or something ridiculous like that.  ❞

❝  unless i’m prepared to accept that she was murdered by something that crawled out of a funhouse mirror, this isn’t much help with the case, either.  ❞

❝  i have to try and work some actual cases the rest of the time. you know, cases that might have some answers i can find.  ❞

❝  it's cold, damp, and dark as night. i'm in my element, at least.  ❞

❝  your place is waiting for you.  ❞

❝  yeah, i’m all good. great… hanging in there, you know?  one day at a time.  ❞

❝  oh, i see you. you think i’m still scared of [thing], huh?  think you can freak me out?  ❞

❝  trust me, i’ve had a hell of a day, and you do not want to mess with a pissed off…  ❞

❝  and tell my sister i'm sorry.  ❞

❝  oh god, it's cold.  ❞

❝  the night sky really is beautiful out here.  ❞

❝  tell him he shouldn’t have been such a good liar.  ❞

❝  i’ve been listening to this for the last two weeks now.  ❞

❝  it’s not even that i’m having bad ideas. i’m not having any at all.  ❞

❝  can’t get away from the work, no matter what i do.  ❞

❝  i made sure i switched off my phone before i came up here, just in case.  ❞

❝  god, these things smell of weed.  ❞

❝  yeah, well… just wanted to make sure you’re okay, you know?  ❞

❝  [name] is dead. that's all there is to it.  ❞

❝  no, i need to get out of here. it’s been a long day.  ❞

❝  a lot of the art i found was just paintings of a night sky full of stars.  ❞

❝  my job is to look the facts dead in the face and find an explanation. one that will hold up in a court of law.  ❞

❝  personal and career choices, i guess you’d call them.  ❞

❝  damn. i could’ve sworn i felt something strange about this place when i hiked through this morning… or maybe it was a different part. hard to tell this late at night, anyway.  ❞

❝  well, let’s just say a middle-aged man-child running out panicked and tearing at his eyes would hardly be a marketable image.  ❞

❝  i didn’t mind that i’d be alone—i always expected that to be how i went.  ❞

❝  i’m sure that’s on my personnel file by now, as if it could get any more problematic.  ❞

[simon-egg]

Benthan Week Day 1 - Hurt/ comfort

Title: Digging In

1873 words fic with art. TW for blood, torture and injury. Physical hurt followed by comfort with a happy ending. Benji is taken and physically tortured in an unusal way.

~○~

Benji lurched forward as something connected with his torso followed by another sudden movement which caused pain to shoot up his side. His eyes snapped open.

“Get up.” Spat a voice from above.

The agent realised he was on a cold, hard floor in a dimly lit space. His chest was bare and he shivered with short gasps. With no recollection of how he got there and a dizzying feeling, he realised he had been drugged. The last thing he remembered was driving home after a long day writing up mission reports which could have been minutes or hours ago. Before his mind was clear enough to fully assess the situation he was in, he was roughly dragged to his feet. Whatever drug they had given Benji had sapped his energy and he sagged, unable to control or defend himself. Benji registered one person holding him firmly upright while another, a man with thick clothes and gloves, began to unwind a roll of barbed wire. Without hesitation, one of Benji's arms was pulled forward and the wire was pulled over his palm and roughly bent around his wrist. The barbs began slicing into his skin and Benji let out a shout of agony to which seemed to spur his captors on. Over and over again, the wire was roughly twisted around his arm at various angles, each coil bringing more barbs puncturing his skin. Grimly, Benji noted that the drug which kept him from fighting back did nothing to stop the pain. As soon as Benji thought the pain was growing too much to bear, the wire was looped through a ring bolted to the ceiling and his other arm was subjected to the same torture. This left him standing upright with his arms trapped above his head. By now whatever drug he was given had worn off enough that he could hold himself up straight. The two men stepped back and in front of Benji, seeming to gleefully eye up the state that they'd put him in.

Benji recognised the men as members of the Apostles who had not yet been tracked down. The one who had used the wire began to speak.

“You're going to die here.” He stated matter-of-factly. “Whether it takes hours or days, it doesn't matter. Just know that all you'll know until you die is pain-“

Benji tried to kick at the men which only caused himself more pain. “Why would you do this?” he choked out.

“You and your friend, Ethan, shouldn’t have tried to stop us. We may not have been able to cause mass suffering but If Ethan finds you strung up here, dead, knowing there will have been nothing he could have done to save his precious friend. That. That is enough for us now.”

Before Benji could think of a reply, the men turned and left.

He could smell his own blood which coated his arms and dripped down past his elbows, some splashed onto his chest and further to the floor with a barely audible wet sound. As time passed, his vision adjusted and he understood from the corrugated iron walls that he was in an old, rusting shipping container but with little light and no windows, he had no idea where he was or how long he had been there. All the while, the barbs caused searing pain and his muscles began to ache as he was forced to hold himself in position.

Light coming through cracks in the door and walls had brightened gradually, indicating to Benji that the sun was rising outside of the box. Some of his blood had dried to a brownish crust while fresh blood occasionally oozed. Hours continued to pass and the only thing keeping Benji from giving up completely was the hope that Ethan might find him. He had to try and stay alive because his captors were right; the thought of Ethan finding him strung up and dead was almost worse than the physical pain he was in. It was peculiar to Benji how those around him, even those he fought against seemed to immediately pick up on the bond between him and Ethan but then again, maybe it wasn’t so odd after all. They had so much faith in one another, kindness, loyalty and shared experiences that Benji found himself growing ever closer to the other agent. In fact, the feelings he had for Ethan had begun to develop past friendship after Kashmir and into something else. Benji made a promise to himself that if by some impossible miracle he was to get out alive, he would tell Ethan how he felt. With his eyes screwed shut against the pain, Benji found comfort in picturing Ethan talking to him, reassuring him, laughing at his jokes and smiling with that kind old smile that he might never see again.

The cruellest part of this torture, Benji came to realise was that despite the exhaustion, blood loss and agony which coaxed him to pass out, he simply could not allow himself to move or relax. He knew that doing so would make the barbs to twist deeper into his flesh. For now, he noted that no barbs were deep enough to hit any major blood vessels or the blood loss would have killed him by now. Despite this, he was still loosing blood and Benji began doubting that he could stay awake and tears began to sting, threatening to spill. Maybe he should give in, even if he died there, at least the dead don’t feel pain.

Benji was jerked from his thoughts by the sound of metal scraping against metal as the door was forced open and light flooded into the container.

“Benji…” Ethan’s voice echoed.

Ethan rushed closer but Benji didn't move, too physically and mentally drained to respond. He simply stared down with dull and unfocused eyes. Ethan’s gaze flicked over Benji's form, horrified at the situation Benji was in. A gentle hand was on Benji's face, and Ethan's thumb caressed his cheek.

Softly, Ethan whispered "Look at me" and after a few seconds, Benji's eyes flicked up to meet Ethan's.

“i'm so, so sorry Benji...” Ethan felt a rush of anger. He wanted to cry but he had to hold himself together for Benji. He was lucky to have found Benji alive. The two Apostles who took Benji did not anticipate just how determined and fast Ethan would be with the help of Luther who had tracked Benji's location by hacking security cameras. Luther was waiting nearby in a van.

"I can't remove the wire from your arms, it could cause more damage but I promise you, this will be over soon. I'm taking you home"

Benji was too weak to hold himself up and Ethan knew that if he simply cut Benji free, he could collapse and cause more injury. Ethan also understood that removing the barbs there and then would only cause more pain and bleeding too.

He used his left hand to steady one of Benji's arms in place above his head, careful to avoid pressure on the wire, then used a pair of cutters with his right to cut through the wire that held Benji's arm up. Ethan then slowly lowered that arm to Benji's side. He did the same to the other arm then awkwardly shuffled closer to Benji's side and manoeuvred an upper arm to rest across his neck, attempting to steady him. After failing to shuffle forwards holding Benji up like this, it became evident that Benji did not possess the strength to walk at all and Ethan didn’t want to put any pressure on his arms.

“I- I can’t, Ethan, I just-“ Benji coughed out.

“It’s okay, I’ll carry you” and Ethan resorted to gathering Benji up and carrying him out. Benji noticed the bodies of the two apostles outside and the last coherent thought he had before he passed out was thinking of how warm Ethan's arms were.

~

Benji woke up again to find himself in the back of a van. Pain continued to flare up his arms and he groaned, his chest throbbed and his head pounded. A reassuring hand stroked through his hair and realised his head was in Ethan’s lap.

“i've got you, you're going to be okay" murmured his friend. One of Ethan’s jackets had been draped over Benji's upper body to try and keep him warm for the journey and a quick glance up he could tell Luther was driving. “We’re not far from a hospital now, you’re going to be just fine.”

Luther had called ahead to notify the hospital and upon arrival they were met by a team of paramedics. Benji was taken inside and immediately given some strong pain killers along with fluids. The rest of the day passed in a haze, scans were taken of the tech’s arms to determine how close any barbs were to blood vessels, tendons and nerves. Then, Benji was sedated and the painstaking process of removing the wire began.

~

The next time Benji awoke he was relived to find that the wire had been removed from his arms and hands which were mostly covered in bandages. The painkillers had worked their magic and he mostly just felt subdued and so, so exhausted.

“I’d hold your hand if I could” Ethan murmured, catching Benji’s attention. The older agent sat in a chair next to the bed and Benji could have sworn he looked like he had been crying. The comment and Ethan’s expression caught Benji off guard and he briefly wondered if he had imagined it.

“I’m sorry.” Ethan paused, contemplating what to say. “I’ve just… come to realise how much you mean to me, I care about you so much, more than you know and it shouldn’t have taken me so long to realise and tell you that. I understand if you don’t feel the same-“

Before Ethan could continue, Benji quietly interjected “Thinking of you while I was in that place kept me going, kept me from giving up, so yes, yes I feel the same.”

“Are you sure?”

Benji perked up slightly “of course, I’m bloody sure!" He chuckled "I love you Ethan Hunt and can not be more relived that you feel the same!”

Ethan beamed and moved closer to the bed, then pressed his lips to Benji’s gently, a sweet kiss that Benji smiled into and a promise of many more in their future.

When Ethan pulled back he spoke again, “I was thinking, if you’d let me, once you are discharged from here, can I come back with you? To your place? You won’t be able to do much without full use of both arms for a while and I want to help you. I want to be there for you and if I’m with you I’ll be able to make sure you’re safe. Not that you’re not capable of looking after yourself I just-, while you recover which I know will take some time, both physically and mentally”

Benji grinned, feeling a wave of affection for Ethan “of course, I’d love to have your company… and maybe you could stick around with me after I’m mostly healed?”

“That sounds like a plan.”

[journalxxx]

By Hook or by Crook (7)

“So! How does it look?” Toshinori asked, with a booming voice and his best hands-on-hips pose to kickstart the endeavor with a healthy dose of enthusiasm.

He wasn’t particularly successful. 

“Daunting. Impossible. Like I’m gonna die of old age before I’m anywhere close to making a change.”

“A little optimism goes a long way, you know?”

“...I may not die before I’ve lugged away some of this.” Midoriya amended tentatively, scanning the extensive length of garbage-filled beach stretching before them. “And… what doesn’t kill me will make me stronger?”

“That’s the spirit!” Toshinori gave him a pat on the back, strong enough to make the boy stammer forwards. He walked around the back of the truck and started unloading the few supplies he’d brought.

“Wear these.” Toshinori threw him a pair of work gloves. He hoped he’d eyeballed the size right. “I trust you’re up to date with all your vaccines.”

“Uhm.”

“Hopefully no one’s dumping organic waste in here, but I’ll bring some traps if you see any rats. They won’t solve the problem, but it’s better than letting them scurry around freely.”

Midoriya’s eyes darted between the gloves and the beach with muted horror. “R-Rats?”

“Scared of rats?” Toshinori couldn’t help but tease. “Did I mention that I had to wade through the sewers for half an hour before finding you and the sludge villain the other day?”

Midoriya instantly looked mortified. “I-I’m sorry-”

“Not your fault! Don’t apologize!” Toshinori tossed his hands in the air. This kid desperately needed to learn the basic mechanics of humor. “I’m just saying that heroes can’t be squeamish! Rats come with the job, as well as a variety of nasty stuff and filth.”

“Right.” Midoriya followed him as Toshinori, cooler in one hand and bag of papers in the other, sat down on the last steps of the stairs. He picked an egg sandwich for himself and fished a folder out of the bag, opening it on his thighs and starting to read it.

It took him a few seconds to realize that Midoriya was still staring at him, as if awaiting further instructions.

“Well? Have at it!” Toshinori gestured widely at his new playground.

“Oh, uhm, okay.” The kid donned the gloves and took a single step towards the piles before pausing to look at Toshinori again. “I thought you wanted to ask me… stuff.”

“Yes, but I’m not sure you can handle working and talking at the same time without building up some stamina first.” Toshinori answered, eyeing the boy’s scrawny frame critically. “We’ll talk while you’ll be taking a break to catch a breather, which is probably going to happen sooner rather than later.”

“Oh… All right.” Midoriya turned away, his arms hanging limply from hunched shoulders as he muttered to himself.  “...Where do I even start...?”

“From the small things. Working your way up to the heavier objects.” Toshinori explained patiently, then gave him a pointed look. “I get the feeling you’re procrastinating.”

The boy approached the closest stack… and did nothing. Was he ever going to stop waffling and get cracking? “Meanwhile, you’ll just, uh… do your own thing?”

“Surely you don’t need me to guide you through the elaborate process of moving objects from point A to point B, do you?” Maybe the kid detected the hint of annoyance in Toshinori’s voice, because he finally, finally set to grab the closest piece of junk- “...Oh. Okay, that’s not a great start.”

“What?” Midoriya stopped halfway through picking up what was probably the first electric fan ever invented, all the way back in the Iron Age. “I haven’t even done anything yet!”

“Bend your knees, not your back. Otherwise you’re going to- do you really not know this? Isn’t the correct way to lift weights Household Chores 101?”

“Oh, right, I know.” Midoriya rearranged his stance in a way that was less likely to earn him a slipped disk within the next two hours. “Do people really lift things like this though? It’s… a lot harder than the normal way.”

“For your legs, yes. For your back, no. You’ll thank me when you’ll be old enough to realize you aren’t made out of rubber.”

Toshinori munched slowly while he watched the kid carry his first loads to the truck. That act alone seemed to distract Midoriya to an amusing degree, his gaze often flicking to meet Toshinori’s eyes for just a moment before shooting back in front of him with blatant self-consciousness. Toshinori allowed the boy a few minutes of warm-up, just the time for him to finish his sandwich and sip a small cup of apple juice, before deciding to kick things into proper gear.

“Running from the truck to the heaps and vice versa would help you gain some endurance too, rather than leisurely strolling back and forth.” Toshinori commented as Midoriya walked past him. 

The kid stopped in his tracks and regarded him with a mix of horror and aversion that vaguely reminded him of death-row inmates when faced with their executioners.

“What?” Toshinori went on, unperturbed. “Are you expecting to get fit without getting tired?”

“No, of course not-”

“Besides, you’ll need to keep a swift pace if you want to clear the whole beach before the admission exam.”

“Wha- All of it?! Before the…” Midoriya sputtered, arms wrapping more tightly around the broken chair he was holding as if that was supporting him instead of the other way around. “Y-You never said…”

“But of course! They don’t do things by half measures in U.A., so why should you?” Toshinori grinned. “Plus Ultra, am I right?” 

Midoriya let out an incredulous chuckle. “You’re kidding, right? There’s no way I can do something like that...”

“Depends on how much elbow grease you’re willing to put into it.”

Midoriya’s expression shifted minutely as he caught onto Toshinori’s seriousness. “But… but that’s impossible! No matter how hard I work, I can’t- I can’t move stuff like that!” He griped, pointing at the wrecked husk of a van half-buried under a mound of assorted refuse. “Even if I do my best-”

“And pray tell, what’s your best?” Toshinori stood up and walked to the kid, ditching the whimsical demeanor. If playful cajoling wasn’t enough to stir him, maybe it was time to bust out the big guns. “What’s the heaviest you can lift? The fastest you can run? The hardest you can push yourself? When’s the last time you actually tried your very best, and how did it fall short?”

Toshinori was already well and truly spent for the day, but he let the provocation and drive in his words stoke the fire within him, and it flared. The Symbol of Peace broke out of his diminutive shell among dramatic wisps of steam, ready to bestow his wisdom more effectively than his rickety counterpart ever could.

“Do you know what’s the only way to gauge your limits? Reaching them. And the only way to get stronger?“ Toshinori held out his arm between them, and clenched his fist resolutely. He relished the sensation of unyielding muscles tensing and bulging under his skin, tangible proof of the truth of his assertions. “Gritting your teeth and smashing past them! Little by little, but constantly!”

Midoriya had only witnessed that transformation once, poorly and by accident, and it showed. The chair had slipped from his hands without him even noticing, and now lay forgotten at his feet on the bare sand. The kid was gawking at him with wide eyes and mouth agape, the very picture of spellbound rapture. It was far from an unfamiliar reaction from whoever was graced by the Symbol of Peace’s presence, and yet it was still flattering, every time.

“You’ll never improve if you keep dwelling on what you think you can do now. Focus on what you want to do next. Visualize it as a clear goal. Build an image out of it, and then carve it in reality. If you really want that van to move, then it will move. If you really want this beach to be clear, then it will be. But you have to put your back, sweat and heart into making it happen!”

All Might captivated his one-man audience with the usual effortlessness, boisterous showmanship and honest positivity deeply intertwined in a way that boggled his detractors’ minds, but that felt so natural and appropriate to Toshinori. He’d made an art out of it, down to the rumble of his voice and the firmness of his gestures and the levity of his attitude, the art of highlighting and displaying the very best parts of himself so that they could resonate louder, better, brighter.

“So what will it be, young Midoriya? Will you clean up this place within the next ten months or not?”

“Y-Yes. I will.” That had done the trick. It was obvious from the way Midoriya’s back straightened and his expression toughened. It was obvious from the spark kindled in his eyes, a reflection of Toshinori’s own passion, still lacking in heat but full of potential.

“Then you’d better get down to it!” The hero sealed the deal with a radiant smile and a thumbs up. “Time’s a-wastin’!”

“Yes, sir!” Midoriya picked up the chair and dashed towards the truck to unload it there, then he immediately bounced back down the stairs and towards the nearest heap of waste. Toshinori observed the boy’s next rounds with his unwavering smile and few approving nods that kept the kid a bit lighter on his feet.

How much easier it was for All Might to touch people’s hearts. How much easier to inspire, to reassure, to nurture. How much easier everything was for All Might, really. If only that shining beacon of hope wasn’t shackled by the whims of a withering body, how much richer society at large would be for it. 

Toshinori let out a deep exhale that took more than just air out of him, and the flame settled down to a low glow. He couldn’t hold back a few wet coughs, and he promptly turned his shrunken back on Midoriya’s concerned glance to sit back on the cool steps.

Unfortunately, there was a lot more than motivation to strength training. Right off the bat, Toshinori could tell that Midoriya wasn’t going to last twenty full minutes of workout. He honestly didn’t know that an ostensibly healthy individual could reach the ripe age of fourteen with such poor body awareness. The boy had coordination and balance on par with a toddler’s: he stumbled on his feet, he tripped on sand, he nearly fell off the stairs twice before realizing that trying to climb them while his view was obstructed by the very items he was carrying might be a less than optimal solution. He seemed to be unaware of the existence of entire muscle groups, and Toshinori had to physically get up and mime movements for him to understand how to exert force more efficiently. Not to mention that he needed incessant needling lest his sprints quickly devolved into lax jogs. 

This whole training thing was going to be… an interesting experience, Toshinori could already tell.

Exactly sixteen and a half minutes later, the boy all but collapsed on the stairs beside Toshinori, gasping for air and wiping his forehead on his sleeve.

“B-Break?” He pleaded, quite redundantly. 

Toshinori took pity on his plight and pushed the cooler in his direction. “Have a drink.”

“Oh, thank you…” The lack of polite refusal made Toshinori suspect that Midoriya had forgotten to bring his own water. 

“There’s sports drinks and fruit juice in there too. Save the snacks for after you’re finished, food and heavy workouts don’t always agree with each other.” Toshinori had packed food primarily for himself, expecting their after-school meeting to last long enough for him to slot in one or two meals in the meantime, but he had taken care of adding a few extras for the kid. A good idea, because the possibility of Midoriya face planting on the ground halfway through out of sheer exhaustion seemed more and more likely by the minute.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to…”

“I promised bribes, didn’t I?” 

Midoriya flashed him the tiniest smile, and eagerly drank some water while Toshinori retrieved a small journal and a pen from the other bag. He skimmed through the list of preliminary topics he’d scribbled on the first page under Tsukauchi’s advice, wondering which one he should tackle first.

“All right.” Deciding to follow his instinct in spite of basic common sense, Toshinori decided to begin from the end. “These phone calls of yours. Give me an idea of what they’re like. The last one you had with your father was on April 1st, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me about it. Everything you talked about, as precisely as you can remember it.”

The good thing was that Midoriya’s memory was very accurate, and he was able to recall the whole conversation basically step by step. The less good thing was that said conversation was largely commonplace and unremarkable, consisting of very ordinary small talk and inquiries about school, grades, news, local events-

“Quirks?”

“Mh-hm.” The boy nodded. “We always end up talking about quirks, in one way or another. Quirks and heroes. It’s always been… a common interest.”

“Always, uh?”

“Yeah, we’ve been doing it since… forever, really. I’ve always found quirks fascinating, and he has lots of great insight to offer.”

“I can imagine...” Toshinori mumbled. Asking who had initiated that habit was probably pointless, it sounded like it had started too early in the boy’s life for him to remember - or even to understand if he had been deliberately led to develop that interest. Some intriguing nature-versus-nurture speculations could be made on the matter, but they weren’t likely to aid Tsukauchi’s case. “And in what way do you talk about them?”

“We… analyze them, discuss them. What is known for sure about a certain quirk, what can be deduced from footage and descriptions of its use, what its unmentioned limitations might be, how it could be further developed… You saw my notebook, right? Basically the kind of stuff that’s in there.”

“Wait.” Toshinori blinked. Could he have already stumbled into a treasure trove of All For One-certified information? “You mean that all that’s written in that notebook was dictated by your father?”

The kid almost choked on his next gulp of water, and shot Toshinori an almost offended look. “No! No, no, it’s all stuff I found out on my own! Well, almost all of it, there are some additions of his here and there, but… Uh, I’d say at least 90% of it is mine, and 10% of it is his… Actually, more like 95% and 5%-”

Well, that sounded less promising, but it was still a lead. “So he’s been basically teaching you how to conduct your own quirk analyses?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say teaching. I wish our school teachers were that engaging...” Midoriya let out a small sigh. “But I guess we do go about it a little like with school essays. Research, deadline, discussion and all that…”

“Pardon?”

“Well, every month we decide which heroes or quirks we’re going to talk about the next time - back in March we chose Hawks, Kido and Snatch for last month’s call, for example. During the rest of the month we gather information and draw our conclusions, and then we compare them during the next chat.”

“You’ve got quite the well-oiled routine going on there, haven’t you?”

“Actually, I think it’s just to give me a chance to make my own deductions with a clear head instead of on the fly.” Midoriya scratched said tousled head in embarrassment. “I bet he doesn’t even need to do any research, he’s always on the top of his game. I’ve never been able to, uh… one-up him, you know? He always knows what I’m driving at, and somehow he always brings my hypotheses two or three steps further than where I stop.”

Toshinori answered with a non-committal hum. No surprise there, the man was a living quirk storeroom complete with its own self-congratulatory, sentient database. “You don’t seem too bothered by it though.”

“Oh, I’m not. It’s not like he’s ever… disappointed or angry or anything, even if I don’t get stuff. He just enjoys chatting, I guess.” That he surely did, Toshinori grimly thought. Way too much. “And I do too. It’s kind of like a game. Or a challenge.”

“A challenge?”

“Yeah, uh… How can I explain…?” The boy drummed his fingers on the bottle as he collected his thoughts. “Okay, for example: one of the first things dad asked me about Hawks was what shape his wings are, and what I could deduce from that about his flight capabilities. Which was a trick question! I knew it as soon as I heard it, because I’d already figured out the real answer during my research.”

“Ah.” Toshinori blinked. “And… how is that a trick question, exactly?”

“Because Hawks doesn’t actually fly! Not like a bird, at least, so his wing shape doesn’t matter!” Midoriya beamed, and suddenly Toshinori realized that that was the first real, genuine, enthusiastic smile the boy had given him since they’d met. And, without exaggeration, not crying, panicking or grimacing made him look almost like an entirely different person. “He simply can’t! Humans can’t fly even if you stick a pair of wings to them, they’re just too heavy! Other heroes who can fly properly are mostly transformers, like Ryukyu - their whole bodies change when they shift, bone structure and all - but Hawks’ body is entirely human if you exclude his wings.”

Midoriya reached for his backpack and drew out the same charred notebook Toshinori had signed days earlier. An item so vital to the kid’s daily life that he always had it with him, apparently, even more essential than beverages during a workout session. A peculiar, if questionable, trait.

“What Hawks actually does isn’t flying, it’s levitating!” The kid held the notebook open before Toshinori’s eyes on a spread page dedicated to the hero in question. “He uses the second facet of his quirk, the telekinesis that allows him to control his feathers singularly! That also explains his incredible speed, which is completely unjustifiable if you only take into account normal bird flight aerodynamics. His propulsion is powered by his feathers - and each of them is quite speedy and powerful on its own, so it stands to reason that he would be lightning-fast when his wings contain so many of them pushing him in unison!”

Toshinori politely elected to wait for the onslaught of words to subside on its own, although he already suspected that it was a little like standing right under a waterfall and waiting for someone higher up to turn off the faucet.

“That said, that doesn’t explain everything about his quirk… For example, a single feather of his is capable of lifting and transporting an adult person, that has been extensively documented. Yet, he loses the ability to levitate relatively soon after dispatching too many of them - he becomes unable to float even when he still has at least several dozens of them attached to his body. We couldn’t figure out why that happens with the information we have. Maybe it’s harder for him to apply his power to himself, that is often the case for emitters. Maybe it messes with his proprioception, and he can’t control the feathers he hasn’t detached as finely as all the others…”

If there was one thing Toshinori was absolutely certain of at this point, it was that the kid wasn’t short on breath any more. “And this is the part you inferred on your own.”

“Yep! And dad agreed with all of it!” Midoriya’s smile grew even wider. It was astonishing how much it didn’t look like dad’s deranged, shark-like, nightmare-inducing sneer, and Toshinori could only send a quiet thanks to the heavens for that. “This is all guesswork though. Do you… by any chance, do you know if we were on the right track? I’d be really curious to know…”

“Ah, I can’t help you there, kid.” Toshinori felt suddenly on the spot. “I’m not acquainted with Hawks, nor do I know more about his quirk than the average person.”

“Oh, I thought… Since you’re both- I mean, I thought All Might may have met him during the billboard chart events, what with them both being in the top ten.”

“We passed by each other, yes, but we were never properly introduced. He wasn’t particularly interested in rubbing elbows with the old guard, I suppose.”

“Oh. Well, that’s his loss, for sure.” Midoriya, funnily enough, pouted. “Pity, I was wondering… Even if he doesn’t fly, he does flap his wings in a way that resembles a bird’s. I wonder if that’s intentional, to mislead opponents and prevent them from figuring out how he actually moves. Or maybe he does it subconsciously…”

“I’m afraid I really don’t know…” Toshinori had never met Hawks on the field either, it wasn’t common for accidents to require more than a single big-name hero to intervene these days. Especially if one of them was the number one, who often showed up first and invariably solved any incident in mere minutes-

Toshinori suddenly came back to himself and almost facepalmed in frustration. Why was he letting himself be interrogated about completely irrelevant hero trivia? He was the one asking questions! God, he was bad at this. “And your father had nothing to contribute about all this?”

“Not about this specifically, but he did raise a point I hadn’t considered.” Midoriya looked up at the sky, once again lost in his very wordy, very deep lucubrations. “Hawks has an astonishing control on his quirk. He can use his telekinesis to move hundreds of feathers at once, to sense his surroundings, he can even harden them and turn them into weapons. He made Fierce Wings into an incredibly versatile ability, and he’s so young too… And yet, there’s no record of him attending any hero school or training facility in Japan, nor abroad. He claims to be self-taught, but… admittedly, it is hard to believe. One would think he must have had some excellent education and tutoring to make it into the top ten when he was only eighteen…”

Toshinori didn’t reply. Midoriya looked back at him when the silence stretched, and whatever he spied on Toshinori’s face made him immediately backpedal. “I-I mean, it’s odd, but, uh… not suspicious per se, nor a sign of anything… weird or bad about him. There are many heroes who, ehr, prefer to keep their personal history private, especially geniuses, and that’s fine! They have all the right to! Same goes for their quirks, it makes total sense-”

Toshinori massaged his left temple slowly. Right, better just nip this topic in the bud before it got irredeemably out of hand. 

He peered again at the notebook in Midoriya’s hands. So All For One had been imparting occasional, amicable quirk analysis lessons to the kid for a good decade, which sounded suspiciously like the kind of knowledge a potential underling or successor might use. On the other hand, Toshinori could think of a million other ways for the Symbol of Fear to instil skills in his son - all of them remarkably more efficient, safe, manageable and ruthless. The whole thing was contradictory in a way that didn’t sit right with Toshinori.

“Mind if I take another look at that?” Toshinori had been in a bit of a rush the first time round, and he’d only taken a cursory glance at the contents of Midoriya’s notes. But if there was a chance of those pages containing words uttered by All For One himself, a more thorough examination was in order.

“Not at all! But, uh…” Midoriya was fast to hand out the item, but his eagerness to assist was even faster to dampen. “Are you going to retain this as evidence too?”

“Mh, I don’t think that will be necessary...” Right, the poor kid’s house had probably been ransacked even further after Toshinori and Tsukauchi’s first pass. No wonder he was worried about losing this prized possession too. “But if it will be, I can make a copy of it for you to keep, so you won’t lose all your, uh, data.”

“Oh, thanks! That would be great!” The kid perked up instantly. He was so easy to please. “Although… I guess I should make a copy of it myself anyway. It’s already kind of… unrecoverable. I could detach the pages with All Might’s sign and preserve those separately, and just photocopy everything else…”

Toshinori’s imagination mercilessly supplied him with the picture of a new addition to Midoriya’s bedroom decor, his five-second poorly-made signature hung to a wall in an elegant frame. He repressed a groan, deliberately neglected to point out that he could simply provide as many new authentic signs as needed, and directed his attention back to the scorched edges of the notebook. “Right… What happened to this thing, anyway? Did someone put it in a toaster?”

Midoriya let out a totally not nervous chuckle as he wrung his hands in a totally not nervous fashion. “Oh, uhm... You know…” Toshinori didn’t, actually, but the kid didn’t elaborate either. 

Well, he was allowed to have a modicum of privacy, still. Toshinori let the issue drop, and nudged the boy with his foot. “You seem well rested. Back to the trash you go.”

Midoriya shuffled to his feet less than enthusiastically, and resumed toiling away at his task. While still checking on him often, ready to poke and prod at the first hint of sluggishness, Toshinori browsed through the kid’s notebook. While the contents were indeed worthy of attention, they were scarce in quantity. It must be rather new, since less than a quarter of the pages had been filled. However, the promise of more material to be discovered made Toshinori withhold his judgement on the matter for the time being.

Once that was done, he continued his perusal of the few files Tsukauchi had already put together about the Midoriya case. Toshinori had practically begged his friend to let him have an active role, any active role in the case: he simply couldn’t bear to twiddle his thumbs until someone else kindly pointed him to All For One’s hideout for another overdue thrashing. He simply needed to be involved, or he’d probably start crawling up walls within a week.

Questioning the kid was pretty much the only suitable occupation for him, currently… Well, it was either that or questioning Mrs. Midoriya, and Toshinori was fairly sure that his brain would leak out of his ears if he heard any more details about All For One’s romantic escapades. He wasn’t exactly an expert when it came to investigative work, not by any stretch of the imagination, but he was going to spare no effort to earn some results. If that meant poring over reams of police reports in the hopes of spotting some helpful clue, so be it. At least it would keep him busy, and busy was good, especially in trying times.

He’d applied the same logic to Midoriya, in a sense. The boy seemed the kind of person who’d very easily overthink himself into a negative spiral, even in less dire circumstances than the messy family drama he’d found himself into. It would do him good to focus on a better future, rather than on his depressing present. Giving him a goal to set his sights on would keep him going more smoothly. 

At first Toshinori had thought to motivate him towards his dream career, but it turned out that the boy’s strategy about the admission test was… nebulous at best. Not that he could truly blame him for it: fourteen-year-old Toshinori didn’t exactly have a multi-step plan towards becoming the Symbol of Peace either, one couldn’t help being somewhat scatterbrained at that age. 

The illegal dumping site had been a serendipitous discovery, and cleaning it up was the perfect type of goal to incite the boy towards. It was very obvious and straightforward, and required no intricate planning: he simply needed to roll up his sleeves and buckle down. And the muscle he’d build while doing it would serve him well for heroic purposes too, so it was a win-win on all fronts. Not to mention that some good old physical exertion would help him sleep at night, which he was still struggling with, if the persistent bags under his eyes were of any indication. Toshinori dearly missed the times when that trick still worked on him too, when driving himself to the brink of exhaustion was a guaranteed one-way ticket to restful and regenerative dreamland. Nowadays, if he accumulated even a sliver of excessive fatigue, all he got was… well, fatigue. And a metric ton of unrelenting body pains and lasting debilitation.

The rest of the afternoon went by smoothly and unremarkably. Midoriya drudged through many rounds of garbage disposal with decreasing energy and verve, but that was to be expected. Toshinori collected more barely relevant and generally useless information, but that was to be expected too. They were both in for the long haul, there was no point in getting upset about it. Eventually the sun started to set, and Toshinori beckoned the boy back to him with a handwave.

“You have more of these?” Toshinori said, tapping his index on the big 13 on the cover of the notebook still on his lap.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Could you bring them with you next time?”

“All of them?” Midoriya seemed frazzled. 

“If you still have them, yes. Would that be a problem?”

The boy scratched his head as his cheek reddened slightly. “N-No, not a problem, but some of them are really… I finished the first one when I was seven. They aren't just outdated, they’re… ehr, childish. Just doodles and misspelled ramblings.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not like I’ll be grading them.” Not yet, at least. Toshinori smirked at his own private joke. Maybe he should grade them, as a small practice run. “I just want to give a quick read to a few things here and there.”

“O-Okay…”

“Good. Well, I think we can call it a day.” Toshinori rummaged in his cooler to fetch a chocolate energy bar, and tossed it to the exhausted boy. “Catch.”

Despite the warning, Midoriya did not catch, and the snack bumped against his chest and fell to the ground with a sad clack. Reflexes were MIA too, apparently. What a rare specimen of a prospective hero Toshinori had crossed paths with.

“T-Thank you!” Midoriya immediately picked it up, unwrapped it and shoved it into his mouth as he hopped into the passenger seat of the truck. Whether it was real hunger or fear of passing as rude, Toshinori couldn’t tell.

The drive to Midoriya’s house was brief. The boy was too tired to chat - as if they hadn’t already had their fill for the day. When they arrived and Midoriya climbed out of the vehicle to be on his way, Toshinori finally addressed one last pressing issue.

“Tomorrow your father is going to call you.”

“Yeah.” The kid’s eyes dropped to the ground. Maybe Toshinori should have brought it up sooner. Way to end the meeting on a sour note.

“How are you going to handle that?”

“I’m not.” The boy shrugged. “Mom will tell him I just got my tonsils removed. It's… safer for now. I think.”

Toshinori nodded. “Let’s take a day off then. Even if you can’t speak, he might want to say something to you, and it would be strange for you not to be at home while recovering.”

“Okay.”

He looked so very small, and so very young like that, bathed in the warm hues of sunset, but with no real warmth to his eyes and demeanor. He was too small and too young to be dealing with this shit. No one was old or big enough to deal with any of All For One’s shit, really. Toshinori would have to make sure no one would have to ever again.

“Thank you for your help today. It’s very appreciated, believe me.” Toshinori offered, with his most sincere smile. “Feel free to text me or Tsukauchi if anything comes up, you should be able to reach at least one of us at any hour of day or night.”

“Okay. Thank you. Have a good evening.”

“You too, kid.” Toshinori watched him until the door of his house closed behind his back, then he drove off.

[lorei-writes]

Impression of Infinity

Vincent x Reader Fluff (?) Fantasy AU

Word Estimate: 1.5k

I blame @cheese-ception​ for this. Also, excuse typos, I literally wrote the last parts with closed eyes, because I can’t see anything just regardless - it’s all blur.

Content Warnings: none Disclaimer: Reader & Vincent are of the same age, Vincent just found himself in a very peculiar situation

Vincent’s finger twitches – and green grows between the rows of students, translucent, reaching up to the very ceiling. His wrist twists the brush by what could be an error margin, the swing of his arm summons purples, invites them alongside violets, to rest between the stars – and you watch very carefully, although you know you should observe his work, not him, that you should listen to his words, not the thumping filling your head… Yet how could you, if he has you charmed, if you cannot turn your eyes away? Vincent nearly dances, his cheeks growing redder from exercise, the canvas he chose being much greater than the body he inhabits. To paint it must be tiresome, you reckon, although your concerns vanish, the spark in his eyes causing something inside of you to sting. Clearly, he is not the same boy you used to know, not the one sentenced to the fate of failure due to his inability to enchant with his voice alone. Yet… Is there anything wrong with that? After all, his greatest flaw turned into what made him a prodigy, as you always claimed.

The heat does not hold against the chilly air of the corridor, you think, the soles of your shoes clacking against the granite floor. The air vibrates outside, kept ablaze by merciless sun, the dreaded celestial body refusing to set even at night, its halo extending from one end of the horizon to the other – and even as your eyebrows furrow, you cannot stop and stare through the tinted-glass windows for even a moment, a steady stream of humans behind your back pushing you forward. In this world of yours, rather secluded from the outside realm, it is another sort of movement that agitates the air, lively chatter lifting in clouds, further replenished by curious students.

The lecture theatre is a marvel in its own right, rows of wooden benches and bookrests refusing to fall apart despite all the centuries passed. You take your seat, in the very front row – and although you try to, you cannot help wondering who sat there before you. Have… Have they discovered anything? Gained some fame? You cannot tell for sure, that much is certain, yet… It would not be unthinkable, it would not be impossible in any way. The Seventh Century University have had quite a number of excellent graduates.

Your hands beginning to hurt, you forcibly unclench your fists, your gaze lifting up from the floor. Right in time, as the chatter stops abruptly, killed by the shriek of the walnut door. A man, no taller than average, steps inside – and something perhaps stings inside your chest, just a little bit. His robe is somewhat crooked, just the way you remembered it to be, the traditional pointy hat (much dreaded by any student, in all fairness) seemingly glaring at him from its place in his arms. He looks around, as if lost, mildly dishevelled blonde hair appearing not to have grown any more obedient the past year. Your throat tightens. He is already at the lectern. “Good evening,” he laughs awkwardly. “My name is Vincent van Gogh and I will be your Practical Astronomy professor.”

The room grows dark, obsidian seemingly crawling over all stone spaces and consuming them whole. Your jaw tightens. Was it truly just a year? To think, so much would have changed… For you both to start at the same time, and then…

It happens as if a sea of fireflies was released into the room, a single twitch of the brush in his hand colouring the nothingness anew. “As we all know, Tralangea is located within the Galatos triad, in the galaxy of Saana. Little is known about the outside universes, however, the most recent findings indicate the remaining splatter points present different variants of the reality known to us. As you should already known after going through Analytical Divination, it would align well within the still-standing model of inter-crossings. In this moment, I want you to imagine the infinite number of elements, circulating through space and interacting with one another. I will give you a second.” The light dies down again, the previously invoked golden specks splashing against the ground. “How does it look?”

No one dares disrupt the silence. How can he ask? It is impossible to answer, of course – and you are very well aware of that. How to picture an infinity? Is it… A trick question, perhaps? You go over the possibilities in your thoughts. A void? The light? You do not know. Something completely abstract, the end of all times? For all you know, it may be just that, and your fellow students seem to agree, confused whispers beginning to hum behind your back. The hushed voices growl, a sea of flies united in mere human distrust. “Professor?” some brave soul asks. “Yes? Do you have an answer?” “I… I think this is impossible.” “Oh? Why so? I might have given you too tough a question at the start,” Vincent laughs, seemingly mildly unease. “It is infinity, professor.” The room quiets down, the concern of all having been spoken out loud. “It is impossible to picture infinity with a finite mind. It would fry it up!” A smack, a couple steps. “I see, you are not aware,” Vincent muses, something swishing in the air. “Your life already is an infinity, in this very moment.”

The room begins to glow, the brush in Vincent’s hand seemingly coming to life with a mind of its own, streaks of navy blue and petrol painting below the dome, swirling and tying with shades of orange, lined with golden dust. “We do not need perfection. We need a model,” he explains softly, almost tenderly, his gaze focused.

Vincent’s finger twitches – and green grows between the rows of students, translucent, reaching up to the very ceiling. His wrist twists the brush by what could be an error margin, the swing of his arm summons purples, invites them alongside violets, to rest between the stars – and you watch very carefully, although you know you should observe his work, not him, that you should listen to his words, not the thumping filling your head… Yet how could you, if he has you charmed, if you cannot turn your eyes away? Vincent nearly dances, his cheeks growing redder from exercise, the canvas he chose being much greater than the body he inhabits. To paint it must be tiresome, you reckon, although your concerns vanish, the spark in his eyes causing something inside of you to sting. Clearly, he is not the same boy you used to know, not the one sentenced to the fate of failure due to his inability to enchant with his voice alone. Yet… Is there anything wrong with that? After all, his greatest flaw turned into what made him a prodigy, as you always claimed. You were right. You were right in not telling him not to…

Vincent lifts his arm over his head, a halo emerging above him. His lips move, a barely audible charm seeping out of his lungs and pulling his creation into a newly created sphere. The room lights up again, granite having conquered the walls. You blink fast. Is it over already? “We have a little more time, so allow me to repeat myself. It is not about creating perfection, but much rather… An impression,” Vincent laughs, perhaps a little shy of what they have just witnessed. “The universes are infinite and so are their interpretations. With our current state of understanding, we cannot provide an accurate depiction. However, different stances on them can be beneficial in certain contexts. Do you know what my model could be used for?” “Map of the stars!” somebody shouts in the back. “Exactly,” he agrees, nodding happily, his lips curled into a smile. “It is what I focused on. By the end of the year, I want you to be able to process an infinite amount of information and take only a fraction of this information. Starting next week, we will be deconstructing our universe. Any questions?” Silence. “You’re free then, thank you.”

The seats around you empty at a gradual pace, some pooling around the lectern (it appears the shyness is quite infectious, you note) while others speed out of the hall, seemingly terrified of classes which are yet to come. You, however, you stay still, as if unable to move, although there is nothing holding you back. Is it you? Is it a mean spell somebody has cast? You do not know, although it seems it is not your day for knowing anything, Vincent, the very Vincent you knew so well, emerging right before you, from who knows where. He graces you with the brightest smile you have seen in a year. “Hello. I didn’t know you were taking my class,” he says, a trace of laughter in his voice. “I saw you listed as the professor and could not believe it, so of course, I had to see it for myself,” you reply, shaking your head, perhaps mildly amused. “Congrats! That internship must have been so hard, you skipped so many years! I hope they didn’t torture knowledge into you there, professor Van Go –” you stop before you finish the word, Vincent scratching his head, his eyes drifting way from you. “Vincent?” “Well, emm… I didn’t skip any years,” he laughs. “It is just those models. The rest, well…” “You still need to pass them?” “Please, tell me you have not chosen my subject over Astral Projection this year,” he forces out of himself – although you barely hear it, laughter shaking your arms violently. “I haven’t. How does this even work?” “I don’t know. I don’t think they know either.” “Oh, Vincent. Well, professor van Gogh, get ready for failing Astral Projection, Miss Szajna took over it this semester and I do not see anything painting in bright colours, unlike your models.”

You get up, the both of you walking to well, the next class. How does it all work? You have no clue. However, it does not matter in the slightest, a weight having been lifted off your heart. You can still tell him those three words. You have not lost your chance.

Tag List: @cheese-ception​​​​,��@kisara-16​​, @nad-zeta​, @rikumorimachisgirl​ @bestbryn​​ If you want to be tagged under my future works, let me know (any way works)! ^^ Also, do remember to specify fandoms (and characters, if you are interested only in some) :D If it ever happens that you wish to be removed from my taglist, for any reason, do let me know. I will not ask why, it’s all fine ^^

[luthienne]

Hi dear, do you have any good words on emotional courage?

hi my love, you can check out this post and this post; here are a few more:

“I know a lot about pain… and I know it is bad for people, eats away the spirit, but how about courage, what is it for if not to use when needed?”

Martha Gellhorn, Selected Letters 

“This is in the end the only kind of courage that is required of us: the courage to face the strangest, most unusual, most inexplicable experiences that can meet us.”

Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet 

“You don’t realize it, perhaps, but you are turning these delusions and illusions of the past into criminal things. Relinquish everything. Stay in bed until you feel so shock full of energy, hope, courage that you bounce out of abed. You can only aid the world–if you still believe the world needs our individual aid–by retaining your faith in life. Your body may be weak, but I know you still have wings.”

Henry Miller, A Literate Passion: Letters of Anaïs Nin and Henry Miller

“I… want to inherit the witch in my women ancestors—the willfulness, the passion, ay, the passion where all good art comes from as women, the perseverance, the survivor skills, the courage, the strength of las mujeres bravas, peleoneras, necias, berrrinchudas. I want to be una brava, una peleonera, necia, nerrinchuda. I want to be bad if bad means I must go against society—el Papá, el Pápa, the boyfriend, lover, husband, girlfriend, comadres—and listen to my own heart, that incredible witch’s broom that will take me where I need to go.”

Sandra Cisneros, A House of My Own

“I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It’s when you know you’re licked before you begin, but you begin anyway and see it through no matter what.”

Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird

“Many people seem to think it foolish, even superstitious, to believe that the world could still change for the better. And it is true that in winter it is sometimes so bitingly cold that one is tempted to say, ‘What do I care if there is a summer; its warmth is no help to me now.’ Yes, evil often seems to surpass good. But then, in spite of us, and without our permission, there comes at last an end to the bitter frosts. One morning the wind turns, and there is a thaw. And so I must still have hope.”

Vincent van Gogh, The Letters of Vincent van Gogh

“In the winter I am writing about, there was much darkness. Darkness of nature, darkness of event, darkness of the spirit. The sprawling darkness of not knowing. We speak of the light of reason. I would speak here of the darkness of the world, and the light of———. But I don’t know what to call it. Maybe hope. Maybe faith, but not a shaped faith—only, say, a gesture, or a continuum of gestures. But probably it is closer to hope, that is more active, and far messier than faith must be. Faith, as I imagine it, is tensile, and cool, and has no need of words. Hope, I know is a fighter and a screamer.”

Mary Oliver, Winter Hours: Prose, Poems, and Prose Poems

“There is always some miracle left; and though miracles do not happen, they might happen. Who knows? Perhaps our intelligence, our instinct, our senses, in spite of their daylight clearness, are leading us astray. Perhaps the one thing needful is just that unreasoning courage which follows hope’s will-o’-the-wisp as it burns…”

Jens Peter Jacobsen, Niels Lyhne

“But if the deepest loss, […] / can be, not just survived, but made into the matter / of hope, made into song, not into a hatchet / to cut off the offending parts, made into poems / then blessed be the end of things, the loss of whatever / secures us blindly and mutely to our lives.”

Julia Alvarez, The Other Side/El Otro Lado

“I run / stumbling, expectant. / Impatience is hopelessly / desperate. Hope / takes time.”

Marie Ponsot, Springing: New and Selected Poems

“How lightly we learn to hold hope, / as if it were an animal that could turn around / and bite your hand. And still we carry it / the way a mother would, carefully, / from one day to the next.”

Danusha Laméris, The Moons of August

“Do not get lost in a sea of despair. Be hopeful, be optimistic. Our struggle is not the struggle of a day, a week, a month, or a year, it is the struggle of a lifetime. Never, ever be afraid to make some noise and get in good trouble, necessary trouble.”

Representative John Lewis

“Where does such a force come from? What does it mean? A voice very faint, and inside me, offers a possibility: how shall there be redemption and resurrection unless there has been a great sorrow? And isn’t struggle and rising the real work of our lives?”

Mary Oliver, Winter Hours: Prose, Poems, and Prose Poems

“Don’t forget that apparent impossibility of something is the first sign of its naturalness—in a different world, obviously.

Marina Tsvetaeva, from a letter to Anatoly Steiger

“Grieve. Have / hope.”

Jorie Graham, Swarm

John Berryman, “The Heart is Strange”

“Skin had hope, that what’s skin does. / Heals over the scarred place, makes a road.”

Naomi Shihab Nye, “Two Countries”

“I am quite troubled in the depths of my soul. But that will pass,”

George Sand, in a letter to Gustave Flaubert

“Let’s dance a little before we go home to hell.”

Muriel Rukeyser, A Muriel Rukeyser Reader

Hélène Cixous, Hyperdream (tr. Beverly Bie Brahic)

“That most moments were substantially the same did not detract at all from the possibility that the next moment might be utterly different.”

Marilynne Robinson, Housekeeping

Ada Limón, “Dead Stars”

“Listen, everyone has a chance. Is it spring, is it morning? Are there trees near you, and does your own soul need comforting? Quick, then — open the door and fly on your heavy feet…”

Mary Oliver, New and Selected Poems

“Get to the bottom of this intensity and have faith in what is most horrible, instead of fighting it off—it reveals itself for those who can trust it, in spite of its overwhelming and dire appearance, as a kind of initiation. By way of loss, by way of such vast and immeasurable experiences of loss, we are quite powerfully introduced to the whole.”

Rainer Maria Rilke, from a letter to Countess Alexandrine Schwerin, June 16, 1922

“…only one thing is urgently needed: to attach oneself with unconditional purpose somewhere to nature, to what is strong, striving and bright, and to move forward without guile, even if that means in the least important, daily matters. Each time we tackle something with joy, each time we open our eyes toward a yet untouched distance we transform not only this and the next moment, but we also rearrange and gradually assimilate the past inside of us.”

Rainer Maria Rilke, from a letter to Adelheid von der Marwitz, September 11, 1919

“Continue to believe that with your feeling and with your work you take part in what is the greatest. The more strongly you cultivate this belief inside of you, the more it will give rise to reality and world.”

Rainer Maria Rilke, from a letter to Elisabeth Freiin Schenk zu Schweinsberg, September 23, 1908

“…I have known with certainty that the worst things, and even despair, are only a kind of abundance and an onslaught of existence that one decision of the heart could turn into its opposite. Where things become truly difficult and unbearable, we find ourselves in a place already very close to its transformation.”

Rainer Maria Rilke, from a letter to Anita Forrer, February 14, 1920

“…he says, it will be all right.

“It is not the saying of an oracle or a prophet. They are words you might speak to a child ... and somehow I am comforted. He does not mean that it does not hurt. He does not mean that we are not frightened. Only that: we are here. This is what it means to swim in the tide, to walk the earth and feel it touch your feet. This is what it means to be alive.”

Madeline Miller, Circe

“Right then she knows herself even less than she knows the sea. Her courage comes from not knowing herself, but going ahead nevertheless. Not knowing yourself is inevitable, and not knowing yourself demands courage.

Clarice Lispector, Complete Stories; “The Waters of the World”

“Recovery (which includes return and renewal of health) is a re-gaining—regaining of a clear view. I do not say “seeing things as they are” and involve myself with the philosophers, though I might venture to say “seeing things as we are (or were) meant to see them”—as things apart from ourselves. We need, in any case, to clean our windows; so that the things seen clearly may be freed from the drab blur of triteness or familiarity—from possessiveness. Of all faces those of our familiares are the ones both most difficult to play fantastic tricks with, and most difficult really to see with fresh attention, perceiving their likeness and unlikeness: that they are faces, and yet unique faces.”

J.R.R. Tolkien, from his essay On Fairy-Stories

Camille Norton, Corruption: Poems

“Keep busy with survival. Imitate the trees. Learn to lose in order to recover, and remember that nothing stays the same for long, not even pain, psychic pain. Sit it out. Let it all pass. Let it go.”

May Sarton, Journal of a Solitude

“I have the fervour of myself for a presence / and my own spirit for light; / and my spirit with its loss / knows this; though small against the black, / small against the formless rocks, / hell must break before I am lost;”

H.D. from Collected Poems; “Eurydice”

Denise Levertov, “Epilogue”

“The days go numb, the wind / sucks the world from your senses like withered leaves. // Through the empty branches the sky remains. / It is what you have. / Be earth now, and evensong. / Be the ground lying under that sky. / Be modest now, like a thing / ripened until it is real…”

Rainer Maria Rilke, from Rilke’s Book of Hours (tr. Anita Barrows, Joanna Macy)

“I know your sorrow and I know that for the likes of us there is not ease for the heart to be had from words of reason and that in the very assurance of sorrow’s fading there is more sorrow. So I offer you only my deeply affectionate and compassionate thoughts and wish for you only that the strange thing may never fail you, whatever it is, that gives us the strength to live on and on with our wounds.”

Samuel Beckett’s words of consolation to his friend, Alan Schneider

“What matters is not to allow my whole life to be dominated by what is going on inside me. That has to be kept subordinate one way or another. What I mean is: one must not let oneself be completely disabled by just one thing, however bad; don’t let it impede the great stream of life that flows through you. I have the feeling of something secret deep inside me that no one knows about.”

Etty Hillesum, from a diary entry featured in An Interrupted Life

“You have been told that, even like a chain, you are as weak as your weakest link. / This is but half the truth. You are also as strong as your strongest link. / To measure you by your smallest deed is to reckon the power of the ocean by the frailty of its foam. / To judge you by your failures is to cast blame upon the seasons for their inconstancy.”

Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

“Try to keep what is beautiful to you and what you can use for today and now — You must not let things you cannot help destroy you —”

Georgia O’Keeffe, from Georgia O’Keeffe: Art and Letters

“What we love, shapely and pure, / is not to be held, / but to be believed in.”

Mary Oliver, from Evidence; “Swans”

“In time of the crises of the spirit, we are aware of all our need, our need for each other and our need for ourselves. We call up, with all the strength of summoning we have, our fullness. And then we turn; for it is a turning that we have prepared; and act. The time of turning may be very long. It may hardly exist.”

Muriel Rukeyser, from A Muriel Rukeyser Reader, “The Life of Poetry”

“To be hopeful in bad times is not just foolishly romantic. It is based on the fact that human history is a history not only of cruelty, but also of compassion, sacrifice, courage, kindness. What we choose to emphasize in this complex history will determine our lives. If we see only the worst, it destroys our capacity to do something. If we remember those times and places—and there are so many—where people have behaved magnificently, this gives us the energy to act, and at least the possibility of sending this spinning top of a world in a different direction. And if we do act, in however small a way, we don’t have to wait for some grand utopian future. The future is an infinite succession of presents, and to live now as we think human beings should live, in defiance of all that is bad around us, is itself a marvelous victory.” 

Howard Zinn, A Power Governments Cannot Suppress

“But don’t lose heart, dear ones—don’t lose heart. Don’t let it make you bitter. Try to understand. Try to understand. The world’s already bitter enough, we got to try to be better than the world.”

James Baldwin, from Another Country

“You do not have to be good. / You do not have to walk on your knees / for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. / You only have to let the soft animal of your body / love what it loves. / Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. / Meanwhile, the world goes on.”

Mary Oliver, “Wild Geese”

[isuckatreadinglol]

Crooked Kingdom Review 🕰️

Holy shit.

(spoiler warning, duh)

Book: Crooked Kingdom (Book 2 of the Six of Crows Duology)

Author: Leigh Bardugo

Rating: 5.5/5

The Plot

This book took me a bit longer to finish because I wanted to absorb as much of the plot as possible because of how much action there was. Every chapter had something going wrong (cough cough part 4) which made it impossible to put the book down. Some parts literally had my heart racing.

There were a lot of interesting moments and I would hardly say they were predictable. At some parts of the book I literally had to just...sit there and just think about how incredible the twists were. I never expected anything to happen, and the way things played out in the end were mind-blowing. I loved the way the plot expanded and it was very satisfying when the book ended.

The Characters

"Where do you think the money went?" he repeated.

"Guns?" asked Jesper

"Ships?" queried Inej.

"Bombs?" suggested Wylan.

"Political bribes?" offered Nina. They all looked at Matthias. "This is where you tell us how awful we are," she whispered.

I fell in love with every single character and watching them grow made me so happy. I think personally I loved Kaz Brekker the most in this book because you really got to see how his trauma left him scarred, as well as how skillful he really is when it came to the missions. The smallest details of Kaz's character just built him into such an awesome character. His backstory expanded, explaining so many things that I didn't even think I needed to know until I read them. Plus the fact that he basically wrote the book. Leigh made up the idea for the plot and Kaz said "I'll take it from here".

"I don't hold a grudge. I cradle it. I coddle it. I feed it fine cuts of meat and send it to the best schools. I nurture my grudges, Rollins"

And that was what destroyed you in the end: the longing for something you could never have.

Inej stole my heart again and again and for what. She really is such a well-built character with amazing determination. The beginning literally had me shaking (It was also the part of the book that had my heart-racing) because I really felt for Inej. Leigh also wrote Inej's kidnapped chapters perfectly, it felt so real. Her showdown with White Blade was so beautifully written and honestly Dunyasha was such a cool character I almost wish she was developed into something more rather than killed.

Anyway, Inej holds a place in my heart and it was refreshing to have such an in depth character, from her history at the Menagerie, to her references of her culture (which were so beautiful). It really made her stand out from the rest of the crew and she was just an incredible character.

"That was how you survived when you weren't chosen, when there was no royal blood in your veins. When the world owed you nothing, you demanded something of it anyway."

"The Suli believe that when we do wrong, we give life to our shadows. Every sin makes the shadow stronger, until eventually the shadow is stronger than you."

Her heart was a river that carried her to the sea.

Jesper was the character I resonated the most with. His backstory was so interesting and structured, but simple. I did enjoy the appearance of his father because it added an element of Jesper's character we didn't see much of before. We got to learn his backstory and learn about his relationship with his father. His unhealthy habits was also something I resonated with so it comforted me to be able to understand this character and connect with him. Also, I love the fact that his ADHD was given more attention to show how and why he dealt with situations the way he did. Also, when he bent the direction of the bullet at the last part...chills. He's my ultimate comfort character and I loved getting to know him.

Guilt and love and resentment were all tangled up inside him, and every time he tried to unravel the knot in his gut, it just got worse.

There's a wound in you, and the tables, the dice, the cards--they feel like medicine. They soothe you, put you right for a time. But they're poison, Jesper. Every time you play, you take another sip.

Nina was definitely one of my favorite characters to see grow. The creativity that was put into her powers was amazing and she was just such a badass. She could literally raise fuckers from the DEAD????? That shit made me lose my mind like how powerful can she GET. She was definitely an awesome character and I really wished we got some more on her powers and her story after they got their money.

She was the Queen of Mourning, and in its depths, she would never drown.

Wylan...sweet Wylan. I love him so much it hurts. He was such an entertaining character and his courage was awesome, he really stood out from the rest of the characters because of how different he was from all of them. He also admired all of the crows and was treated like a little brother by all of them which was so cute. The character development went from "Why am I here?" to "How can I help?" and I loved seeing him become a part of the crows. Also in that last scene where he's just leaning against the wall, beat the fuck up, was so good SAINTS.

Wylan summoned every bit of bravado he'd learned from Nina, the will he'd learned from Matthias, the focus he'd studied in Kaz the courage he'd learned from Inej, and the wild, reckless hope, he'd learned from Jesper, the belief that no matter the odds, somehow they would win.

But they were his first friends, his only friends, and Wylan knew that even if he’d had his pick of a thousand companions, these would have been the people he chose.

Matthias back with his long ass chapters (until chapter 40 LOL) (i'm so sorry that was outta pocket). Anyway, I still had meh feelings for him but I loved him and Nina's relationship. Yes, I shed a few tears when he died that shit hurt come on now. I did like to see his protective side and him overcoming his fears and past beliefs. The character development in him was immaculate.

He was on the ice once more, and somewhere he could hear the wolves howling. But this time, he knew they were welcoming him home.

The Ships

Kanej: cries. literally in tears. bawling my eyes out. throughout the entire book. THEY HELD HANDSSSSSS, HE OPENED UP TO HERRRRR, THE SHIPPPP AND THE PARENTSSSSSSSS AHHHHHHHHHHHHH MY HEARTTTTTT

I would come for you. And if I couldn't walk, I'd crawl to you, and no matter how broken we were, we'd fight our way out together--knives drawn, pistols blazing. Because that's what we do. We never stop fighting.

Wesper: adorable adorable adorable. my favorite gay mfs in the world. Jesper is such a fucking flirt though he had ME blushing. Also when Jesper kissed Kuwei HAHAHA WHATTT, the way Kuwei was like 😏 had me gone. Anyway, the chemistry between these two was something else (so much better than in the first book) and the ending with them was wholesome I'm so happy they got the happy ending.

Wylan shrugged. “Maybe. Not all poisons have an antidote.” Jesper snorted. “That’s why we call him Wylan Van Sunshine.”

This was the kiss he’d been waiting for. It was a gunshot. It was prairie fire. It was the spin of Makker’s Wheel. Jesper felt the pounding of his heart—or was it Wylan’s?—like a stampede in his chest, and the only thought in his head was a happy, startled, Oh. (<3)

Helnik: cries. again. sobs. This one hurt me so bad, I literally was just sitting in my bed staring at the wall, book in hand, crying. They had such a beautiful relationship and they grew so much together it HURT. The way Matthias was so protective of Nina and was always worrying about her. They planned their future together in their heads all the time. They were SO HAPPY WHY COULDN"T THEY JUST BE HAPPY.

They deserved the world.

I will always protect you, even in death, I will find a way.

You aren't a flower, you're every blossom in the wood blooming at once. You are a tidal wave. You are a stampede. You are overwhelming.

Final Thoughts:

My final thoughts are scattered throughout the review, but overall this book took everything from Six of Crows and made it better. It broke me, made me laugh, had me angry as fuck, but it also left me feeling like I knew these characters and they knew me. It really was so much better than the first book in so many different levels and I will never get over this book. Truly better than waffles.

[fanfic-she-wrote]

Imagine being the reincarnation of Dracula's long lost love: part 2

Part 2 to this imagine:

https://classic-movie-imagines.tumblr.com/post/628840508622553088/imagine-being-the-reincarnation-of-count-draculas

It was supposed to just be a dabble, but a lot of you guys liked it. I also kind of wanted to continue it myself. It takes off before the carriage fight scene at the beginning of Dracula AD 1972. Part 3 coming up! 😄 Hope you like it!

You stumbled out of the castle, Dracula's pained expression still fresh in your mind. When he saw you he looked so unbearably sad. You hadn't expected such an expression from someone that was supposed to be a monster, an expression that was very human. All of a sudden, an agonizing howl could be heard emanating from the dark depths of the castle. Something inside you wanted to go back, but Van Helsing held onto your hand tight as he lead you into the nearby forest.

Once you and Van Helsing were at a safe distance, you turned to him and asked, "what did he mean, Lawrence?" He paused, staring at you, looking hesitant.

"Lawrence?"

"There is a legend," he began. "That before Dracula became a vampire, he had a wife. Not much is known about her. Some speculate that she died during childbirth. Others say it was murder."

" What do you think it was?" You ask, pressing him for more information.

"I can't say for sure, but whatever it was, it was enough to drive Dracula to the edge. He became a ruthless warlord and was supposedly killed during a battle, but we know otherwise." Lawrence said, quickly glancing at the castle in the distance over his shoulder, a dark red moon hung over it making it appear all the more menacing.

"So, he thinks...Im his wife?" You ask, pointing to yourself. " That's impossible! I wasn't around then."

Van Helsing nods. "My dear, anything is possible. But, nevertheless he does. Now that he's seen you, he'll do everything in his power to get you back." He said as you walked through the forest to the nearby town.

Secretly, you sort of wanted him to find you. He intrigued you, and you wanted to know more about him, not just from Van Helsing told you. That and he was very attractive, his eyes entranced you the most. Something about them seemed... familiar.

You arrived at the inn you were staying at with your mentor, Lawrence Van Helsing. He taught you all the lore about monsters and cryptids, vampires obviously intriguing you the most. He was reluctant to bring you along on this case, but you insisted. Now, he really wished he hadn't. If only he had left you in London where you were safely out of Dracula's grasp. He didn't want the same fate to happen to you as he had seen it happen with so many others. He...he...well that didn't matter. You didn't share the same feelings anyway.

"It's nearly dawn. I doubt he'll try anything now. You should get some rest Y/N." Lawrence said, walking you to your room. You suddenly yawned, not realizing how tired you were until now. You turned to face him.

"You too Lawrence." You said knowing he probably wouldn't anyway.

"I'll try. " He assured you with a faint smile.

"Well goodnight--er good morning?" You scratched your head, unsure what term to use. You weren't use to such a strange schedule. He chuckled.

"Sleep well Y/N." Lawrence said, softly brushing a stray hair out of your face before turning and heading towards his own room.

You noticed that Lawrence was acting strangely towards you lately. He seemed to become more withdrawn, which troubled you. He was normally a very warm, welcoming man. Sometimes, he looked like he was going to say something, but then would change his mind. You didn't want to bother him so you never brought it up.

You changed into your sleepwear and fell upon the mattress, sinking into it as though it were quicksand. It didn't take you long to drift off to sleep, your thoughts wondering off to the mysterious vampire alone in his castle...