#‘this can’t possibly get worse’ I say every day and am then proven wrong

[elcucurucho]

I’ve got insaneduo on the brain tonight, like Cellbit and Forever have both found themselves in positions of leadership on the server. Forever, as the president, and Cellbit, as head of the ordo and go-to enigma solver. If something goes wrong, they’re expected to solve it. And it’s not exactly unwarranted, they’ve gained that responsibility through their own actions; but even if they chose to do it, it is a lot of pressure. Isn’t it lucky then, that they’ve always had each other. Through the election and after, despite any arguments, they’ve been each other’s strongest ally and defender. The weight of it all isn’t quite so heavy when someone else is there to bear it with you.

And then everything goes wrong, and the eggs are gone. And they’re expected to fix it. It’s taken for granted that Cellbit would lead the investigation, that Forever would get answers from the federation. Because leaders are expected to step up in times of crisis. But they’re just people. And their child is missing too. There’s no information, no clues, no answers. And under the worst pressure they’ve dealt with, when they only have each other to rely on, Forever is taken out of the picture entirely. Forever is more than Cellbit’s friend, coparent, ex whatever, he’s the only other person that could understand the specific pressure that comes with people looking to you for answers. I don’t know how you move forward after losing something like that.

[sharpbutsoft]

You Should Fear What You Already Know

7.10 Spec / T+ / 1k / Author Chose Not To Use Warnings

Buck’s always hated hospitals. The sickly smell of bleach and illness, the squeaky floors and buzzing fluorescent lights, the fact that he could never tell which was worse; being the victim or the victim’s family. He thinks he’s made up his mind about that last one today.

Sitting by Bobby’s hospital bed, Buck’s mind keeps getting stuck on how small he looks, how young. Objectively he knows Bobby’s not old, per se, but he’s always seemed so solid, so sure of himself and his place in this world. Like steel, or concrete.

Unyielding.

But Buck knows what repeated application of stress can do to steel, to concrete, to strong men. He’s seen it first hand; never needed to see it again.

“I don’t know if you can hear me,” he says, taking Bobby’s pale, fragile hand in his own. It’s warm to the touch, calloused like Buck’s own, but smaller, and that feels wrong. Nothing about Bobby should be smaller than Buck. “Every coma is different, you know? But I’m gonna believe you can until proven otherwise.”

Chim hadn’t heard anything. Buck had heard some things; not everything. But Bobby’s heart stopped, and Buck’s heart stopped, and maybe that’s the common denominator, the link between them. It’s a little hope, but it’s the only one he’s got.

“You- you said the other day, after I made lunch, that your work here is done. And at the time I- I was excited ‘cause I really tried, you know?

“I put everything into that meal, just like you do, and it must have worked. You looked so happy, after just one bite. And I was so proud of myself-“ Buck sniffs, wipes at his face with the back of his hand. “I was proud, ‘cause I’d impressed you.

“But I’ve changed my mind. You’re not, okay? Your work can’t be done, Bobby, ‘cause I made your lasagne for Tommy today and I don’t know what happened but the sauce, it was too thin, you know? I need you to show me again.” 

Buck squeezes his hand again, then relaxes it. The last thing Bobby needs is a bruised hand if… when he wakes up.

“I know you can hear me, okay? Because I heard you. After the lightning, in my coma dream. I heard you praying for me and- and I came back to you. So now it’s your turn, Bobby. I’ve seen what a world without you looks like and I can’t go back there. I won’t.”

Bobby’s heart monitor continues to beep, steady as a funeral march, not a stutter in its pace to indicate he’s heard anything Buck’s said. The low wheeze of the vent accompanies it, a nightmarish harmony. Buck wants to wake up.

He wants to wake up and see Bobby, whole and well and smiling and alive. But Buck is awake and Bobby might never be again and it’s the most unimaginable pain he’s ever felt.

Worse than the radiation scare in the tunnel - at least then Buck could talk to Bobby. Could wave off his concerns with gentle - and not so gentle - words. Could walk and talk and make them breakfast and smile. 

Could call Buck overprotective with an eye roll, and a warm hand on his shoulder.

“I lied to you, then,” Buck admits between clenched teeth. “You weren’t the same, in my coma dream. You- you were dead.” He whispers the word, like speaking it aloud could invite the possibility of it into the room. “You were dead, because you relapsed.

And the team never noticed how bad it was getting, because I wasn’t there to provoke you, I guess. After the plane went down.”

Buck laughs humorlessly as he remembers how even in his own head, the thought of Bobby not being there nearly killed him too. 

“I think my brain might have over-inflated my importance in your life, honestly, but it- it devastated me. And I still- I can’t-“ The tears come rushing back from somewhere so deep, so dark that Buck’s not sure they’ll ever stop once they spill. “I won’t live without you, okay? You know better than anyone how stubborn I am, Bobby. So you better come back to us.

“Your work here’s not done, and it’s never going to be done. Athena needs her husband. The 118 needs their captain. May and Harry need their dad, and I-“ 

That’s the thing, isn’t it? That precious, unspoken line they’ve never crossed. 

Because no one’s ever cared for him like Bobby has. No one’s worried about him, and protected him, and loved him with exasperation and anger and fear and joy so big and bold that Buck’s always been scared to look at it too close, let alone reach out and claim it. 

Now he might be too late.

But if there’s any part of Bobby that can hear him through the haze, then Buck’s going to be brave, gonna take the chance. He’d give all his blood, his plasma, his marrow. Any organ they could wrench from him he’d give to Bobby in a heartbeat, in the space between them.

Seems only fair to give him the title that goes with it.

“I need my dad, too. So, wherever you are, come back?” Please?”

-

Title is from Plastic Flowers by The Front Bottoms, don’t listen to it unless you wanna cry

I’ll post it to Ao3 later once I have it edited ✌️

[junhanndee]

insomnia / junhan

when you just can’t seem to sleep it seems like junhan always has a solution

unedited

warnings : reader has insomnia, uhhh tooth rotting fluff (?), gaon makes an appearance for like 5 secs, reality of insomnia

gn! reader x boyfriend junhan

you could have sworn the last time you checked your phone the time was 11pm but you’re proven wrong as soon as you exhaustedly roll over to read 2 am in big bold white letters.

nights like these were nothing but the usual for you although it was getting increasingly worse. even after trying what you felt like had been every possible answer, the future seemed to offer nothing to abide by.

after checking the time and realizing you weren’t going to get any sleep, you decided maybe junhan would still be awake at the studio. his sleep schedule was definitely something. even after staying up for hours on end he never failed to put a smile on your face. even when he was ready to sleep he would stop at nothing to make sure you would rest right by his side.

reaching for your phone in the seemingly endless dark you quickly sent a text to him.

you : hey… would there be any chance you’re still up?

and sent. hopefully he wasn’t sleeping and had to wake up to get again, another restless night for you.

hyeongjun : hey my love, i’m still awake! i’m in the studio right now. late night for both of us i see…. 😴 what’s got you up so late?

you : just another one of those nights. i even took some melatonin but i can’t seem to sleep…… :(

hyeongjun : wanna swing by the studio? you can spend the night with me if you’d like. the boys won’t mind and they miss you, as usual, anyways

with a rushed ‘yes i’m on my way text’ you stood up to throw on a pair of oversized sweatpants with one of junhans band tees you so secretively stole.

stepping outside there was a light breeze. it reigned cold on your skin and to your surprise, you felt a glimpse of warmth. not physical warmth just the pure feeling of joy that you had somebody like him.

no matter what, junhan was always there for you. even in the beginning of your relationship. he would facetime you or even send you videos of him playing the guitar to possibly fix any possible sleeping issue you had been dealing with.

it wasn’t out of the normal for him to do things like this, but the way he never cared to go out of his way to help you was what always made you warm. regardless if it was the coldest day in december, you could always feel the constant warmth and love junhan always gave you.

making your way to the studio you thought of many things like this. even if it meant you had to walk through a war, if junhan was on the other side, you would make it through.

once you arrived at the studio you had ran into gaon who knew about your insomnia and had often sang or even played some guitar for you to rest in his studio when junhan was just slightly busy.

gaon wished you the best and with a hug you were opening the door to see your lovely boyfriend.

nothing could ever replace the immediate sleepiness you felt when you entered his presence. it was almost as if he was your sleep aid.

“aw, you’re here!!” junhan said while standing up to give you a big warm hug.

seeing you like this was far from easy for him. if he could take it all away from you, even if it meant he had to experience it, he would. seeing you go through all those restless nights and all those early mornings where getting up was such a challenge made him hurt for you and wonder why somebody so precious to him would have to go through such a thing.

when he wraps his arms around you and lightly strums up and down your back, you can already feel your eyes becoming heavy.

“let’s get you in bed okay?” junhan says while cleaning up his studio and grabbing his zip up.

on the way to their dorm you guys talked about all sorts of things. junhan knew you got your energy out by letting loose and talking as much as you pleased. he loved hearing you talk and he loved hearing anything you may have to say about your oh so eventful life. it was beautiful, you were beautiful.

once arriving back to the dorms to see most of the boys already in their rooms and sleeping, it had helped set a mood for you.

after taking off your shoes and lining them up next to junhans, he tells you to wait right there for just a minute.

as you stand there you realize, it was the little things like this that meant the most to you. lining up your shoes next to each other after a long day, debriefing with him when he acted like you were the only person talking even in a room full of people, him holding your hand in a crowded place because he knew you would get overwhelmed, and even down to just being with him. everything meant so much to you, but the little things proved to be the things you loved the most.

junhan comes up to you holding a white soft blanket. wrapping it around you, you can’t help but notice that the blanket is nice and warm.

“i put it in the towel heater for a minute so it would be nice and warm for you” he says while slowly guiding you towards his room.

walking into his room was always something that made you feel so safe. from the familiar white glasses laying on his desk to the guitar in the corner of his room, you loved being surrounded in his presence and being. just in where he is was enough for you.

he starts to make down his bed and motion for you to come cuddle up next to him and you gladly do so.

“do you want me to sing something to you?” he asks while wrapping his arm around you and running his hand through your hair.

“yes please.” you say as your eyes are already feeling more droopy by the minute.

he begins to hum ‘beautiful’ by crush while slowly guiding his hands through your hair.

once he hears your breathing become slightly heavier he can’t help but begin to doze off himself.

and as the night turned into morning, your love for junhan grew stronger and stronger every single day.

[lollypopsx]

Flatmate! Harry: I’ll Make It Up To You - Part 1

Warnings: Swearing, slight angst 

Please like if it’s not too shabby, reblog for anyone who may enjoy this and follow if you want to see more! Any suggestions are happily taken for future writing! I love you all! be safe and be kind x

Part 2 - Part 3

—————————

You was going to kill him. This was the last straw and you had used up every ounce of patience today.

“Harry Edward Styles! Get in here right now or I swear to fucking god you won’t ever breath again!” You shout, your hands clutching the towel wrapped around your body. Your hair styled in a bouncy blow dry with a full face of makeup, a brown smoky eye and a nude lip.

The two of you bicker and argue like enemies, laugh like the best of friends and love each other like a married couple. Although you were only flat mates and nothing had ever gone further than friends, you knew Harry would never see you in that way, however the tiniest part of you had always hoped one day you’d be proven wrong. But you knew all along you’d rather have him as a best friend than lose him all together.

You hear the footsteps round the corner and a grin like the Cheshire Cat plastered on Harrys face “Do you mind? I’m trying to write some music Y/N” he smirks.

“Where the hell are all my clothes?! And where the fuck is my guitar?!” You shout angrily. You were no stranger to practical jokes in this house, both giving and receiving them. But today was different. You had the most important audition of your lifetime, and half of your room had been emptied. 

The laughter escaping Harry’s lips was making you angrier and angrier by the second. “I told you that you’d regret stealing my jumpers!” He smirks.

“That doesn’t mean you take everything I own! Now where to hell is it all?!”

“Ah now you see…this is where it gets fun…you see we’ve made you a little scavenger hunt to find it all. All you have to do is-”

“We?! Who’s we?!” You growl through gritted teeth.

“Ok ok…I can’t take all the credit for this…Niall helped. So…here’s the rules!”

“Harry!” You cut him off “I don’t have time for a fucking scavenger hunt! I have my audition in an hour and I’m already running late! Just get me some fucking clothes and my guitar so I can leave!”

As soon as you had mentioned your audition, the smug grin fell from Harrys face and his rosy cheeks had drained to pale “oh shit. T-that’s today?! I…I thought it was Friday” he frowns “w-well all your stuff is in Niall’s car and he’s in Brighton so I can just get him to drive back asap and…” he fumbles for his phone quickly.

“Brighton?! Harry you have 3 seconds to tell me this is a joke before I rip your pretty little head off! That’s 2 hours away Harry! I’ll never make it in time!”

“Y/N I’m so sorry! I am I really am, I would never have done this today if I knew” Guilt filling his eyes.

“You knew Harry! It’s written on the fridge, on the calendar and you helped me rehearse two days ago!”

“Why don’t I just go and buy you something to wear?” He offers, although he was currently terrified to speak incase his head really did get ripped off. He hadn’t seen you this angry since you pierced holes in three of your ex-boyfriends tyres after finding out he cheated.

“Well that’s pointless because I haven’t got my guitar and you don’t even have your acoustic guitar here. Forget it Harry. Just get out.” You mutter, your head hanging low in disappointment. Even if you left now you’d be late, and that was frowned upon. Turning up anywhere late was bad enough, let alone an audition. If you’re going to turn up late, then there’s no point turning up at all because you wouldn’t even be given a chance. The entertainment business was a difficult place to be, and this was your one chance to really make something bigger for yourself and it was ruined.

“Y/N I…”

“I said get out!” You scream, releasing the built up fury “go and join Niall in Brighton for all I fucking care. Leave me alone. I’m so disappointed Harry” you felt the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

The sight of you on the verge of tears was enough to break his heart. He wanted to protest, he wanted to make it all better. But he knew you too well. He knew if he didn’t leave you alone to calm down then it would make everything worse than it already was. He had never felt so guilty. In the 4 years you had lived together, practical jokes never made either of you angry. Sure they were embarrassing at times, but you two always had the best of times. At what made it even worse this time was that he had made you cry…and you’d used the ‘D’ word on him!

Harry had left, shutting the front door quietly as he headed to the studio to get out of your hair for a few hours. Also calling Niall in the process to get him to get the fuck home asap. It may have seemed like a pretty extreme joke, but they didn’t intend it to turn out this way. The plan was that the scavenger hunt would lead you to Brighton with Harry to meet Niall there, and the three of you would spend the day and night by the beach, shopping, drinking, eating...everything that you loved to do.

As hours passed, you found yourself tucked under the mountain of blankets on the sofa, wearing a pair of Harry’s boxers, joggers and a white hoodie. Which you purposely chose because your makeup rubbed off on the collar and the sleeves as you wiped your tears. 

You felt deflated and disappointed. You should have been more prepared...no actually, Harry shouldn’t of been a dick. You knew he didn’t mean to jeopardize your audition, but these auditions didn’t come along often and part of you just wasn’t ready to let this go yet.

Harry crept in quietly, although you didn’t hear him, or at least you didn’t want to. “ Hey...Y/N” he whispers softly, walking through the living room door cautiously.

“Hm?” you mutter, not allowing yourself to speak a word to him, and especially making sure your eyes were glued to Netflix, not giving him the satisfaction of paying attention.

“I...I got you these” He whispers, placing a big bouquet of red roses and white lilies on the glass coffee table in front of you. You looked straight passed them “Oh wow...maybe I should send these over to the directors and producers to say sorry and maybe they can make an exception for little Y/N to try again!” you state sarcastically, but your facial expression staying as blank as possible.

He sighs softly and perches himself on the arm of the sofa, he gently pulls your shoulders back for you to rest your back against his thigh. “I know it doesn’t change what I did Y/N, and believe me if I could of changed anything I would, and if I could turn back time, I’d do anything”

“You really fucked up Harry” you whisper, your voice cracking gently as you wiped your tears on the sleeve of his hoodie. “You don’t get it. You’re Harry Styles and you get everything handed to you on a plate because everyone already knows who you are! You’ve done what like...three auditions in your life and you’ve succeeded every single one. It’s not like that for me. I spent hours and hours practicing. And weeks just writing these songs in hope they get heard one day and now they won’t because word spreads really quick in this industry.” You still couldn’t bring yourself to look into his eyes, because you hated people seeing you cry. 

He sighed softly, staying silent as he pulled you up gently and sitting himself underneath you as he wrapped his arms around you tightly. He was always the first to help you rehearse when you had an audition, the first to comfort you if it went wrong or you didn’t succeed, and the first to celebrate and congratulate you when you did get it. Unfortunately, this time no one will ever know how it would have gone. He knew he couldn’t say much else because he knew you were right.  

You wanted to resist, but instead you buried your face into his chest and whimpered softly. As disappointed as you were, you knew Harry was truly sorry and he’d hang onto this guilt for a while. He held you close as his gentle fingers raked through your hair.

“I’ve put everything back in your room, all folded and neat” He whispers “I’ll make it up to you. I promise” He kept his arms around you supportively, although his chest was heavy with guilt, he already had a plan conjuring in his mind. 

—————————

[letitrainathousandflames]

Fix-It AU - Clone Strike

"There is a siege going on in Umbara, and the separatists are attacking the Alderaanian outposts, so tell your troopers to stop playing dead, gear up and get ready for combat!" Palpatine demands in a holo-call with the commanders

"I'm afraid that won't be possible." replies commander Wolffe with no care for decorum "Us clones recently found out that being paid in 'exclusive GAR currency' instead of actual credits, having no assigned vacation time and not being allowed to quit is highly illegal and we're suing the republic."

"Wh-" Palpatine gasps, squinting in disbelief "What in the moons are you talking-"

"And I know," commander Bly interjects "it is a bummer that legally we aren't people so we can't defend ourselves in court, but this public defense attorney said they'll represent us in court for free because this is a flagrant human rights violation."

Palpatine's usually calm, pale features are reddened and clearly straining not to become twisted in fury.

"But you are not-"

"Yes, I know, we are 'clones, not technically human, blah blah blah'," Captain Rex shakes his head, rolling his eyes "but our attorney will be basing their case on animal rights - see, even if a pet 'belongs' to you, as we 'belong' to the GAR, the Jedi and the Kaminoans, if it is proven that you are causing harm to your pet, they get taken from you and you get sued. It's more or less how we're approaching this."

"How-"

"And I know you might think that we would be offended for being defended in court as animals," Commander Cody quips with a dramatic grimace "but look, after living your whole life as a clone trooper you kinda stop caring about the dehumanizing treatment, so..."

At this point, Palpatine slams his hands on his desk, abruptly rising up from his chair.

"Enough! This is treason! There is a war raging on, and our beloved republic will fall if you don't get in line and cease this treacherous talk! Now get in line and do your jobs!"

"Or what?" Commander Fox, the only clone physically present in the office asks, removing his helmet and showing his perfectly calm features contrasting starkly with Palpatine's enraged expression "What is the threat, Your Excellency? A death penalty? We face death every day, we witness it taking our brothers in battle, and we prepare ourselves for it every time our gunship's ramps are lowered and we step out into the gunfire. We are raised from infancy not to fear it, and we are hardened from combat to laugh at it."

And there is a gleam in Fox's brown eyes, in every speck of gold in his irises as he leans closer, placing his gloved hand on the Chancellor's polished desk of expensive Nabooan wood. Fox's scratched and dented hand guard stands out against the elegant furniture.

"You can't threaten us with imprisonment either." he continues "Not only we are trained to and used to living in small quarters with limited to none personal items of our own, I am certain that a sudden influx of over three million inmates would effectively break the republic's correctional system. Besides... you wouldn't want men as skilled as we are, with as much intel on the GAR as we have, kept with the Republic's worse criminals, right? So that, too, is off the list."

Palpatine doesn't interrupt Fox's musings. He seems too stunned at the clone he expected the most loyalty from and his unexpected act of betrayal. Fox straightens himself up and strokes his chin in thought.

"Now, separating us from our families, that would be a low blow, and most likely an effective one. Taking our spouses and children from us or even - stars - threatening them, that would be a brutal way to coerce us to do your bidding. But then again, by not allowing us to have personal lives of our own, the republic prevented us from creating any ties, so all clones are unmarried and childless. All a clone has is his brothers. So that won't work either."

Palpatine sinks back into his chair with a defeated sigh, his gaze lost. His right hand falls on his thigh, slowly moving under his desk. Fox's eyes narrow on him.

"With all due respect, sir, if you are planning on triggering the alarm and accusing me of attempting to murder you, I advise you not to." he glances at the helmet tucked under his arm "I have been recording this entire meeting, and the video is being relayed to all of my men who are scattered through the building and outside as well. I have given them instructions to make sure the recording reaches the public in the case of my unexpected death or imprisonment."

Palpatine freezes, eyes widening in a mix of shock and disgust at the clone, as if Fox is a misbehaved dog that he wants to beat.

"How dare you..." Palpatine grits out "How... dare you! The republic gave you life!" and he looks at the blue specters of the clone commanders' holograms watching him "We gave life to all of you!"

Cody looks at Palpatine. The Marshall Commander, always so polite and respectful grins wide, nodding.

"Yes. And now we are going to make something out of it, Your Excellency. With or without your permission. Fox will bring you a datapad with a list of our demands this afternoon."

"The separatists are still attacking as we speak!" Palpatine yells, spit flying off his mouth "There is no time for this! Even voting for every single demand of yours in the Senate could take months!"

"Well, then, sir," Commander Cody says with a shrug "I do hope you can try and speed up the process. You see - if the Seppies get to coruscant, my brothers and I can defend ourselves with ease and maintain our strike. I do not think the same can be said of the civilian population..."

"You are bluffing." Palpatine spits

"Maybe." Commander Wolffe smirks "Are you going to try and see it for yourself, sir?"

"You will be blamed for this!"

"We already are." Captain Rex interjects tiredly "We are already being blamed for everything that goes wrong in this war. "

Commander Thorn speaks up for the first time, his blue, slightly glitching image showing the commander that had long stopped standing in attention and is now giving Palpatine the same cold glare that all of his brothers share at the moment.

"It's not a long list, Your Excellency" his tone at the title is full of contempt "It is actually a perfect copy of the 8th Ammendment of the Galactic Constitution, on the rights for sentient beings - a text all senators, especially a Chancellor such as yourself, are very familiar with."

Palpatine's eyes dart back and forth as he follows the clone's words in bewilderment.

"You are soldiers." he hisses, attempting to display more self-restrain than he seems to be able to at this point "How much do you even think you know of our civil laws?"

Commander Gree smirks, shaking his head.

"Don't you think we know, sir, that we will be put on the stand to speak on behalf of our cause? Or do you think we will take the risk of having our attorney dazzle everyone with legal jargon, only for us to ruin it by sounding like a bunch of uneducated meat droids? Oh, no. We've been doing some studying."

Captain Rex tucks his hands behind his back, fixing his posture.

"Well, Your Excellency, I believe this should be all. We don't wish to take more of your time, as I assume that you are have important matters to attend to. Commander Fox will notify us of your response."

There is almost an entire minute of silence where Palpatine merely stare at the clones in disbelief. The clones exchange a few amused looks.

"Well then... Rex out." the Captain's image glitches and disappears

"Bly out."

"Wolffe out."

They leave, one by one, until the only clone still present is Fox. Palpatine grits his teeth at him, pounding a fist on the desk in front of him.

"This is treason." he is no longer screaming or hissing; instead, his voice is low and almost shaking with anger "You are all traitors. And you... CC-1010, you are a shame to the Grand Army of the Republic."

Fox stares at Palpatine, his expression inscrutable. In a deliberate, calm gesture, he takes his helmet in both hands and places it over his head. His voice comes filtered through his vocoder, devoid of any emotion.

"When we meet in court, Your Excellency, make sure to address me as 'Commander Fox'. Calling us by numbers while being accused of dehumanizing treatment will not be a good look on you or the institution." he turns his back on Palpatine, walking to the door that hisses open "I advise you to prepare for the next session in fifteen minutes and... oh, since I am no longer doing my rounds in the building, you should probably try to stay safe, sir. Good day to you."

[hurting-fictional-people]

Betrayal Story - Part 6

Hii look at what I finally finished! sorry for taking so long to post this guys, I don't even have an explanation lol... I have something else already half written for the boys so hopefully I won't take so long to update the story again 🙃 anyways, I hope y'all like it <3

tagging @thelazywitchphotographer @swift-perseides @whump-it-like-its-hot @sunflower1000 @msrandonstuff @fromtheo-withlove @boxofsilence @lionhxartx @sometouchofmadness @paleassprince @livingforthewhump @1becky1 @shameful-indulgence @whatwhumpcomments @tropes-for-my-md-daydreams @starnight-whump @writingbackwards @noodlesandkareokee @mylifeisonthebookshelf @nightwhumpee

CW: forced sedation, manhandling, drugged whumpee, needle mention, aftermath of branding/burning

Part 1 here, continued from here

-

Liam can’t move. Every time he does, his arms do too and the mere brush of burned skin against pristine bandages is enough to get him on the verge of tears.

The room he’s kept in is too barren, too small to provide any kind of distraction from the constant pulse of pain – too much and never abating. No one listens or cares when he begs for medication, for anything to ease the agony. The doctor comes in to see him, give him antibiotics and check if there’s no infection, but barely looks at Liam when he whimpers under gloved hands.

The first time he takes a glance at the twisted skin underneath the wound dressing, a breathy, hysterical laugh slips out, quickly followed by a silent gasp as Chase’s initials weigh on his arms. He was always his, in the end, wasn’t he? Even after being betrayed and stabbed and kidnapped, he could never get the agent off his mind. Now he’ll be on Liam’s body as well.

It takes all of his willpower not to rip the dressings off once the doctor and nurses leave, just to stare at the hideous thing his arms are now.

But in the silent room, with nothing to do but think and despair, Liam can’t stop looking at the bandages.

He doesn’t know how long he spends staring at it – at the white itchy gauze, and the burns that hurt underneath it. At the C and the R he knows are forever burned on his skin. Like fucking cattle, marked with his owner’s name. Like the stupid boy who thought he could give his heart away to the beautiful, mysterious man that smiled at him. If nothing else, it is a good reminder of how big of a fool Liam is. If he lives long enough for it to be useful, that is. If Jonah doesn’t decide he’s had enough of Liam soon.

Horror floods him at the thought, and when his heart speeds up, Liam can’t hold it any longer. He pulls off the bandages in one swift movement, holding his breath when a wave of fire licks his arms. It doesn’t stop him from ripping out the second bandage though.

His hands tremble on his lap as Liam stares at the skin above his wrists, red with blood and raw skin disfigured into letters. It looks just as ugly as it feels.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until a tear drips on his thigh. And then another and one more, until he’s openly sobbing, chest heaving and stomach twisting.

Lost in tears and the sight of burned skin that sinks into his heart and burns everything there too, Liam only realizes there are people in the room when a hand grabs his forearm.

“What did you do? I just bandaged that,” the nurse complains.

This time, this one time, he moves. Liam yanks his arm away from their grasp and stumbles out of the bed, away from the nurse that stares at him with wide eyes and a startled frown.

“D-d-don’t touch me,” he hisses, holding his hands as close to his chest as he can, and hissing again when sore skin rubs against his shirt. “Stay the fuck away!”

But instead of moving back or so much as talking to him, the nurse calls for the guards and starts walking in his direction.

Liam takes a step backward and presses his back against the wall, wild eyes searching for an escape, a weapon, anything, but salvation is nowhere near. “Please, don’t. Leave me alone.”

When the guards open the door and enter the room, Liam slides to the ground, as small as he can make himself, elbows on his knees, arms protecting his head.

“Get off!” he screams when hands grab at him, and thrashes in the hold. His foot connects with soft flesh, his knee with someone’s chin, but there are too many men. Too many hands for too little strength, no matter how desperately Liam fights.

They drag him through the floor as Liam writhes with every last bit of stamina he has, panic driving him to fight like he wishes he could every time he’s hurt.

A different kind of pain blooms as he squirms uselessly in unforgiving grips – one deeper, familiar, warmer. Liam still doesn’t stop.

“Fuck, he reopened the stab wound,” someone shouts over the cacophony of pain and panicked struggling. “Hold him down, now!”

Liam is pushed to the floor, and when someone squeezes both his arms to keep him there, right over the exposed burns, the world turns red, and a scream tears its way out of his throat.

“No, no, no, get off!” he sobs, kicking out even when a needle sinks into his arm. “n-n-nggh off, get, get o-off,” he tries again, but the world is already slipping through his fingers. He kicks out and thrashes as best as he can, but it isn’t enough. There are stronger bodies over him and the movement is barely there at all.

As much as Liam tries to keep his eyes open, they weigh too heavy, the drugs stronger than he is.

What isn’t?

Liam’s body relaxes against his will, slumps under harsh hands and angry stares, and all he can do is whimper when they drag his limp body to the bed.

-

Chase moves through life like a ghost, only a shell of helplessness and worry, and for the first time, his team notices. He hasn’t slept in days, not with Liam’s face twisted in agony ready to wake him up each time he closes his eyes. Has barely eaten, no appetite left when all he can think about is the boy he loves being hurt on his account.

How can he be free when Liam is locked up? How can he be the one who isn’t hurting when he is the only one who ever deserved it?

“Come on, I know that there’s something wrong,” Zoey says, crossing her arms.

If he could simply flee, he would, but with the hacker standing right in front of him, Chase knows it isn’t worth it. Even if he did leave, she wouldn’t stop trying to get the truth out of him. So Chase sighs and looks down at the blond woman who looks ready to commit murder.

“We all know it. You look like shit. What’s going on?”

It takes all of his strength to plaster a smirk on his lips and lean against the wall with a casual tilt of his head. “You guys worry too much. I’m fine, Zo. Probably could do with a little more sleep, but who couldn’t?”

As convincing as he hopes he sounds, Zoey doesn’t seem at all impressed by his acting. If anything, her frown deepens. “I know you, Chase. And you know me, so you know you can trust me. You look even worse than you did after that mission with the newspaper boy.”

Newspaper boy. If that was all Liam meant for him, maybe Chase’s heart wouldn’t be this tattered.

“Zoey. I am okay, I p– I promise.”

I never lied to you, he had said to Liam as he bled out in Chase’s arms. I betrayed you, yes, but not once did I lie. Stay alive and I’ll prove it to you.

But that was just another lie, wasn’t it? Liam is as alive as ever, and all Chase’s done is cause him more pain than any of them ever imagined possible. All he’s proven is his failure to keep Liam safe.

What is another lie when he’s already filled with them? Maybe that’s all he was always meant to be, all he will ever be – a betrayer. A traitor. A liar.

With a casual shrug that makes his stomach twist, Chase sidesteps his teammate. Before he can move farther away though, she grabs his arm and pulls him back.

“You are good at lying, but I can see the way your eyes have gone dull. I’m not going to force you to say it, but when you get tired of pretending to be fine, I’ll be here. Okay?” When Chase doesn’t answer, she takes a deep breath and nods. Zoey leaves him standing there, feeling dirty and raw, something stirring inside his chest and begging him to tell her everything.

Chase opens his mouth, the truth one breath away, and takes a step towards Zoey’s back. And then his phone buzzes, and reality comes crashing back as he looks at the screen and she disappears down the corridor.

Wanna see him?

It’s the first message he’s gotten from Jonah in days, and Chase holds his breath and freezes for a second at the words.

He’s rushing to his car even before his mind has caught up with his legs.

He’s standing in front of Jonah’s building in a matter of minutes, heart racing but mind weirdly quiet. Static silence, fear building up.

Jonah waits for him in the lobby this time, leaning against the open door of the elevator with a smile on his lips.

“Chase! Long time no see.”

“Where is he?”

“Straight to the point, huh. Boring as ever,” Jonah rolls his eyes. “I was feeling generous today, thought you might want to say hello. I’m not sure our dear boy will answer you, but you can try for yourself I guess.”

“What the fuck did you do?” Chase hisses as Jonah nods for him to get inside and presses the button.

“Nothing bad. He was just fussing about the pain, so my nurses gave him have a little something to relax.”

Chase steps into the elevator, two guards close behind, and fears he’ll shatter his jaw from how hard he’s clenching it.

“He also doesn’t really like his new… adornments, I don’t think. Ripped the bandages earlier today, wet the whole bed with tears.”

Jonah’s voice is light as he says it, the tone one would use to talk about something meaningless, something that doesn’t make Chase sink his nails into his palms and hold his breath. The man’s eyes are the telltale, shining with dark glee, and Chase can see the way Jonah follows his every movement like a predator, reveling at the little cracks in his unruffled façade.

“So when I offered him something to calm down, he didn’t even think before accepting,” he continues.

The doors slide open before any of them can say anything else. A small mercy.

The walk to Liam’s room is as quick as it is infinite. They stop in front of the door so incredibly soon, yet so painfully late.

“Be nice to him, I think he’s going through a phase,” Jonah chuckles as he nods for one of his men to unlock the door. “And don’t forget that this is your fault, dear.”

He barely realizes he’s entered the room until the lock clicks behind him. And then Chase’s eyes find Liam, and the world stops on its tracks, just like it always does when they are in the same room together.

He’s lying on his back, arms open and hands hanging off the bed, bandages covering the skin from Liam’s elbows to his wrists. His eyes are open, but unfocused, slow blinks that lead to nowhere even when Chase takes the first step towards him. His chest rises and falls slowly, rhythmically, a shallow blow of air through parted lips, and despite everything, Chase is happy that Liam isn’t in pain.

It is only when he stops beside the bed that Liam’s head lolls on the pillow, a sunflower looking for the sun even though no real light can reach him here. Still, he looks, and half-lidded eyes roam around the room before finally stopping on Chase’s face.

“Hey,” Chase says, curling one hand into a fist while the other clutches the edge of the bed.

“Mmgh,” Liam slurs with a shuddering breath and a crease on his forehead before trying again. “I, mm, I’m not, n-uh not feeling… well.”

“How can I help?” Chase’s voice is hoarse and low, pained, but Liam hears it. He hears it and he whimpers, shaking his head no.

Make it stop, his mouth forms, but doesn’t voice.

I can’t, Chase wants to scream, I’d give anything to make it all stop but I can’t. Instead, he softens his voice and tries to smile. “What if I do something to distract you? I… I was told you are under some strong drugs.”

Green eyes blink at him, and Chase is happy there are only the two of them in the room. He might actually lose it and punch Jonah square in the face if the man was here.

“How about I tell you a story? You’ve always liked them.”

Liam swallows, eyes darting around the room again, and even though Chase knows he isn’t listening, not really, he sits on the edge of the bed and starts talking.

“It’s about a boy who thought he could change the world, but instead changed the person who was sent to stop him.”

“Sou-sounds like a shit story,” Liam mumbles.

“Depends on how you look at it. Or who’s the one telling it, I guess.”

There’s a pause, and Liam sighs softly before talking again.

“Are you… are, are you really… here?”

The words slam into his chest, shattering anything left in there, and though Chase holds himself firmly still and keeps his face carefully free from anything but tenderness, something collapses inside of him. Maybe it’s his heart. It feels like it, and he wants to cry, to grab Liam and leave, but he can’t, and Liam strains to focus on his eyes, so Chase smiles like there isn’t burning agony rippling through him.

“Do you want me to be?”

“I, I don’t, I don’t know.” It is only a murmur, but Chase knows he’ll hear its echo in his nightmares for a long time – the uncertainty, the fear, the sadness. The helplessness.

I’m here. I would be here forever if I could.

But the words are only that – words. He can’t be here forever, nor erase all the pain he’s caused and continues to cause. So Chase picks up the pieces of his heart and pretends it doesn’t hurt to smirk and brush Liam’s hair away from his forehead like he used to do so long ago.

If he can’t take Liam away from this nightmare, the least he can do is pretend it is a dream.

“Then you should stop dreaming about me.”

“Ca-can’t,” Liam frowns, staring at the hand Chase just touched him with. “Will, will you leave? Again?”

“Only if you want me to.”

Liam looks up again, and something is missing in those eyes. A spark of life that was still there the last time they saw each other, but isn’t now. As Chase searches for the hope he always loved in the depths of Liam’s gaze, what he finds instead is sadness.

“Don’t go,” Liam breathes. “I, I, my h-head, it it it feels weird, Chase.”

“I know, love,” Chase says calmly, nothing of the wild desperation that rages inside of him seeping through the words. Not when Liam is this lost, this vulnerable. Not when it is the first time he has called Chase by his name after the betrayal. “It’ll pass.”

“I’m scared,” he murmurs, shifting on the bed. “But, I, I don’t remember… why.”

“You are okay, Liam. I promise. You’ll be okay.”

Liam closes his eyes and shakes his head, and when he speaks, his voice is only a whisper, gone even before he finishes. “I don’t believe you.”

Chase bites on his lip and creases his forehead, but none of it shows when he takes Liam’s hand in his own and gives it a little squeeze.

“I know. That’s okay too.”

But Liam isn’t there anymore to hear it. His body sags on the bed, taken away by the drugs, and Chase is left alone in Liam’s cell, watching the boy he’d kill and die for fall asleep. As he does, all Chase can think about is that he needs to get Liam out of here. Somehow, he needs to get him away, no matter the cost of it.

An hour goes by, and though it is one of the worst hours of Chase’s life, is it the first time he doesn’t feel like a part of his heart is bleeding in days. Not when he can see the bleeding part right in front of him.

He wants to wake Liam up, to hear his voice while he can, before he’s forced to leave again. But there’s peace on his face as he sleeps, and Chase can’t take him back to reality when he looks like he used to, like he could wake up at any moment and kiss Chase with a smile.

And then the door opens, and the memories vanish as Chase reluctantly gets up. As soon as he does though, Liam stirs on the bed, frail hand reaching out and grabbing Chase’s wrist before he can move away.

“You promised me… a… um, a story.”

Liam’s eyes open for a moment before closing again, but he doesn’t let go. Chase shoots one look at the guards waiting by the door and knows that nothing good will happen if he waits. He has to play nice if he wants to get Liam out.

Chase looks down at Liam again, and when he finds half-lidded eyes struggling to stay open, he can’t stop his voice from breaking mid-sentence.

“It’ll have to stay for another time, okay? I’ll see you soon, love.”

Liam’s eyes flutter back closed with a soft sigh. His voice is soft as the tears that sting Chase’s eyes when he speaks. “You al–, you always leave in real life too.”

Chase can’t find an answer before he is dragged out of the room by a firm grip he knows better than to fight. He yanks his arm away as soon as the door locks him and Liam on different sides, and hears the words rattling around his head while he is lead to sit in Jonah’s office to hear what the man wants next. All the way back to his house.

He doesn’t think when he calls Zoey. All he hears is Liam.

All he can see is Liam’s lost gaze, the life fading out of his eyes. All he knows is that if he lets him in Jonah’s claws one more second without doing anything, he might actually, truly, crumble down until he can’t pull himself back up.

He is sitting on his couch, hands over his face and elbows on his knees just like they have been since he got home, when his friend opens the door.

“Oh, Chase,” she breathes as soon as she sees his face and sits beside him. “What happened?”

He doesn’t get to crumble down. Not when it’s Liam the one being hurt. The one branded and tortured and kidnapped and betrayed. Still, when Zoey’s gentle arms wrap around him, he hugs her back.

“It’s Liam,” he says, fighting to get the words out through his heaving breaths, trying to force his mind to put them together long enough for someone else to know it too because he can’t do this on his own. He thought he could, he thought he was enough, but he isn’t and he needs to get Liam out, no matter what, no matter how, he has to, he has to before the light goes out in that beautiful green gaze. “He, I, he’s caught and it’s my fault and I thought I could keep him safe but I can’t and now–“

“Chase, breathe,” she commands, and he answers. It’s all he knows how to do, isn’t it? Answer orders. Look at what happens when he’s left on his own. “Let’s start from the begging.”

So Chase does.

(next)

[five-rivers]

Danger First

Chapter 9

@pocketramblr

.

Banjo took Hikage to the side while the other ghosts were still wading through their existential crisis.

"Man," he said, "Hikage, bro. You know I love you."

"You do?"

"Like... at least eighty-five percent of the time."

"Ah, continue."

"But next time you think one of us has a secret relative out there, you've got to say something so we don't get blindsided."

"You're sure?"

"Positive."

"Alright, then. I couldn't help but notice that both Ninth's mother and 'Tomura' share a strong resemblance to Nana."

"... I've changed my mind."

.

Although Midoriya Inko had abandoned the tech conference as soon as she heard about the attack on the USJ, she, unlike the mist villain, could not teleport. Therefore, Izuku was stuck in the nurse's office even after he had woken up and paramedics had confirmed that his injuries began and ended at bruises and quirk exhaustion. (And a potentially fractured bone in his foot, but that wasn't worth mentioning.)

Sitting next to the police officer with nothing to do was... awkward. Very awkward. His hands itched for his notebooks, but everything they brought to the USJ was evidence, and he hadn't been allowed to go back to the classroom. He wanted to know what happened to his classmates and Mr. Aizawa, who he hadn't seen since he ran away from the plaza and left him with the hand villain, and Mr. Yagi, who had really taken a beating from Nomu. Danger Sense was quiet, relatively speaking, but Float was just waiting to be used and tested.

Plus, he really, really had to talk to Mr. Yagi about that. Loads of his classmates had seen him use Float. How was he supposed to explain having Float right after telling them he probably had a sensory quirk?

Plus, if he got Float, it stood to reason that he'd get all the other One for All users' quirks as well. So he had to figure out how to make Danger Sense, Float, Smokescreen, Blackwhip, and a strength enhancement all look like the same quirk. Which, maybe they were, technically, considering that Monoma had sensed One for All as a single quirk but whatever was going on with the mist villain as multiple quirks...

Point was, One for All definitely functioned as multiple quirks.

Would his friends think he was lying? No, he'd definitely proven Danger Sense existed by predicting, however loosely, the attack.

"Hey, Tamakawa."

Izuku and the officer looked up at one of the detectives who had come to take initial statements. His name was... Tsukauchi, Izuku thought. Mr. Yagi (as Mr. Yagi) was standing behind him.

"I can take it from here. I have a few more questions for Midoriya."

"Yes, sir. Midoriya." He nodded at them as he left the room.

"How are you feeling, Young Midoriya?" asked Mr. Yagi, taking the officer's spot with a slight groan.

"Uh, better than this morning, actually," he said. "But, um, but what about you? That Nomu guy kept, um..." His eyes trailed towards the detective.

"Ah, this is Detective Tsukauchi Naomasa. He's an old friend of mine. He knows... well, just about everything about me."

Izuku nodded slowly. "So, he knows about, um..."

"I know about One for All," said Tsukauchi.

"Oh," said Izuku. He rapidly gathered together his thoughts, trying to decide what the most important piece of information he had to impart was. "Do you know what happened to Mr. Aizawa? And Ingenium?"

That was most definitely not a piece of information. Stupid brain.

"The portal villain, Kurogiri, teleported Aizawa off UA grounds, but he was able to get help quickly after that. Ingenium had some injuries that need a specialist, so he went home. They'll be alright, but they'll probably have to take a few days off."

"Yes," said Tsukauchi, giving Mr. Yagi one of the driest looks Izuku had ever seen. "Because you heroes are so good about that."

"Teaching isn't exactly strenuous, Naomasa."

"Remind me again how you got injured this time."

Mr. Yagi made a face Izuku would have found hilarious under other circumstances. "That's different," he said, plaintively.

"Is it though?"

Mr. Yagi coughed. "Now, Midoriya, my boy... I'm sure you have things you want to talk about... I think I glimpsed you soaring through the air, earlier. Did you unlock the enhancement aspect of One for All?"

"No," said Izuku. "Not exactly."

.

"Well," said Mr. Yagi. "That's, hm. Certainly something."

"Sorry," said Izuku.

"You have nothing to apologize for, my boy," said Mr. Yagi, patting his knee. "In fact, it's a good thing that you got Float this time. I'd be at a loss about what to do with Smokescreen or Blackwhip. But I'm fairly familiar with my master's quirk, and, well, there's someone else who I should... get back into contact with..." Mr. Yagi force the words out as if they had physically pained him to say.

Which they might have. He did have the whole... coughing... thing. Maybe he was just trying to hold one back?

"Mr. Yagi? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine."

"Okay, are you sure?" He wasn't sure if he wanted to bring the next part up if Mr. Yagi wasn't feeling well.

"Yes," said Mr. Yagi. "I just, hm. It's just... history."

Izuku nodded. "So, um. Did you hear Monoma say that the mist guy - Kurogiri? - had multiple quirks, too? Like Nomu?"

The mood plummeted.

"Yes," said Tsukauchi. "He told me, and I told Toshinori. It appears that Kurogiri's warp quirk is actually several different quirks working as one. Merged together, almost."

Izuku nodded. "I was just wondering... One for All can be passed on, so... are there other quirks like that? Like, if the first person with One for All had family members or something? Or..." Izuku trailed off. Mr. Yagi now looked actively ill. "Did I say something wrong?"

"Toshinori," said Tsukauchi, "you mean you didn't tell him already?"

"In my defense, I thought he was extremely dead."

"What- Who are you talking about?"

"My boy... I think it's time to tell you a story of two brothers..."

.

"So, One for All comes with a built in nemesis? Who may be immortal?"

"That- He's not... It would appear so."

"I am somehow both surprised and not."

.

"There's one more thing I wanted to ask you about before your mother arrives," said Mr. Yagi.

"Please tell me it's not something worse, like me being a descendant of the guy," requested Izuku, picking the worst, most ridiculous thing he could think of.

Tsukauchi snorted, then covered the noise up with a cough.

"I seriously doubt that All for One could maintain a romantic relationship of any kind," said Mr. Yagi, "and even if you were, it wouldn't really matter. I mean, his own brother hated his guts."

.

"That's a bit extreme..." murmured Yoichi.

"Considering some of the rants we've gotten you to go on," said En, "it really isn't."

"Maybe. Maybe not. But the rest of it-" Yoichi promptly left to harass Second and Third.

"How can you two be so close and yet so far?" mourned Nana. "How are you so smart and so dumb at the same time?"

"In Ninth's defense," said En, "he doesn't know what All for One looks like."

"Surely he knows what his father looks like. He sees his picture almost every day," said Hikage.

"Admittedly, I could have phrased that better, but are you rubbing that in, or are you serious? I've known you for, like, half a century and I still can't tell."

.

Despite the example being a joke, Izuku felt much better after hearing that.

"But, no, this subject is relatively neutral and nothing so dramatic. I was hoping to get your permission to tell young Aizawa about One for All."

Izuku opened and closed his mouth several times. "H-huh? Why? And why do you want my permission? You don't need my permission."

"One for All is your quirk, now," said Yagi, "and your secret. It's up to you who knows about it. Outside of an emergency, I suppose. As for why in general..." Mr. Yagi sighed. "There are things young Aizawa needs to know about the villains with multiple quirks and All for One. I can't tell you the details right now, but with how One for All is manifesting in you, if he only knows about All for One, it would be very easy for him to make incorrect assumptions."

"Oh," said Izuku. He could certainly see how that could be dangerous. He didn't want his teacher to associate him with a villain like that.

"Also, if he knows what's happening, it will be easier for him to help you," finished Mr. Yagi hopefully.

Izuku thought about it. "I guess that would be alright. But... He's not the only person who'll know about my quirk being weird and All for One, right? I mean, the Hero Commission, at least..."

"To be entirely honest with you, I tell the HPSC as little as possible about All for One and One for All."

"What? Why?" asked Izuku.

"Well-"

"Izuku!"

"Mom!"

"I'll explain later," said All Might quickly.

.

Kurogiri passed a damp washcloth over the burns on his neck. The metal of his collar was a conductor, and the charge the young man with the electricity quirk had sent through it had been significant. It was only natural for it to get hot, for it to burn.

He should go to the Doctor... Some of the collar's functionality seemed to be damaged. He brushed his mist covered fingers over the cool metal.

Tomura wouldn't tell the Doctor. Kurogiri cared deeply for Tomura, but the young man was certainly shallow and unlikely to realize the extent of Kurogiri's injuries. He was more likely to focus on his own, not insignificant, wounds.

In contrast to those, Kurogiri's paled. He wasn't nearly as important as Tomura, after all.

It should be fine to let his wounds and the collar be. It would do what it was supposed to and protect the vulnerable areas of his body, internal damage or no. He just had to be careful of the burns becoming infected, especially since he couldn't see them.

Sometimes, he wished his body was like it was before...

Kurogiri frowned at the thought even as it faded from his consciousness. He had been created by All for One fully formed. His body had always been like this.

Hadn't it?

.

Shouta had been in and out of consciousness the past few hours. Apparently he'd never been in serious danger of dying, except from shock, which was just his body being dramatic and didn't count. All his major organs were free of serious damage. He just had to regain his stamina so that Recovery Girl could heal him up, and then he'd be fine.

Unlike Tensei, apparently, who had cracked one of his engines, which needed specialist help and surgery to realign the pieces. Or All Might, who had taken hits to his old injury, and needed to take time off or lose more time from his hero form. Or his students, who hadn't been seriously injured but who were probably traumatized.

The last time he had woken up, though, Hizashi had been there. Now, All Might, Nezu, and Detective Tsukauchi were there.

"Thought I already gave my statement," said Shouta.

"You did," said Tsukauchi.

"We're here to give you more information about the attack, I'm afraid," said Nezu.

"Information I won't like?"

"It can wait until you feel better, of course."

"That's illogical," said Shouta. "The sooner I get the information, the more time I have to process it."

All Might, Yagi, sighed. "Nomu and the portal-using villain both had multiple quirks."

Shouta frowned. "You mean, they had quirks with multiple aspects?"

"No," said Nezu. "As Yagi said, they had multiple quirks. This was confirmed by both the villains' comments and by Monoma, who made contact with the portal villain and was able to copy multiple quirks."

"Kurogiri," said Shouta. "That's what the other one called him. Shigaraki."

Nezu nodded. "Indeed. We weren't sure you had heard that." He tapped his paws together. "What we are about to tell you is classified. We are only sharing it with you because of your unique position and history."

"In the wrong hands, it could cause a lot of damage," said Yagi.

Only two things kept Shouta from leaping out the window and escaping: the fact that he was basically immobilized in plaster casts and the fact that his students were already involved in whatever this was.

"Great. What is it?"

"To begin," said Tsukauchi, "Monoma said he was able to copy three quirks from Kurogiri."

"That's up from what he could do before," observed Shouta. Stress did push quirks to improve, sometimes, although Shouta hated for the improvement to be associated with trauma.

Tsukauchi nodded. "He made note of that as well. He said he picked up a quirk that allowed him to turn his body parts into portals that led to other body parts, a quirk allowed him to temporarily teleport his body parts, and..." he trailed off.

"And a quirk that at the very least bears a strong resemblance to Shirakumo Oboro's Cloud."

"What are you saying?" asked Shouta, ignoring the way his heart had almost stopped.

"At the moment? Only that it is very strange that Kurogiri had a quirk like that, and sent you to the place where Shirakumo Oboro died."

"Oboro would never-"

"We're not saying that," interrupted Yagi. He coughed into his hand. "There's more context. Have you ever heard of the quirk bogeyman?"

.

"I can't wait to never sleep again I'm my entire life," said Shouta.

"Wait," said Tsukauchi, "it gets worse."

"How could it get worse?"

"Naomasa, you're supposed to be on my side," complained Yagi.

"I am. That's why I'll stop Eraserhead here from trying to kill you after you finish explaining."

"Well, it has to do with young Midoriya's quirk..."

.

"Let me get this straight, you gave the quirk with an immortal supervillain archenemy attached to a child... and didn't tell him that the supervillain existed."

"When you say it like that, it sounds really bad-"

"It is really bad-!"

.

"If I'd known he was still alive-"

"What part of immortal do you not understand?"

"Shouta, I, too, believed that All for One-"

"Shut up, Nezu! I don't have the energy to be mad at both of you right now!"

.

Yagi, Tsukauchi, and Nezu were all shown out by an irate nurse while a different but equally irate nurse replaced the plaster cast on Shouta's arm.

It had definitely been worth it.

.

Just because school was canceled, that didn't mean training was canceled.

... except it did, both because Inko was too stressed to let Izuku out of the house, and because Mr. Yagi had a meeting to go to about the attack.

But the second day after the attack was a different story!

That morning, Mr. Yagi pulled up in front of Izuku's apartment in Hercules (still so cool!) and picked him up.

Izuku bounced enthusiastically into the car and then froze. "Oh my gosh, what happened to your eye? Was it a villain? How hard did they hit you?" his hands fluttered. "I have some cream-"

"Oh," said Mr. Yagi, "no need, young Midoriya! I, er, sort of deserved it. It's a sort of reminder to take it easy, too. People would be disturbed to see All Might with a black eye, after all!" He smiled, then winced.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, very. You should buckle up, my boy."

"Oh, right," said Izuku. "So, where are we going? You said there was someone you wanted to introduce me to."

"Yes," said Mr. Yagi. "My old teacher. It's been a while since I've seen him. Hopefully he won't make up for lost time with a kick to the face..."

"What?"

"Don't worry about it."

When Mr. Yagi spent most of the way over muttering about kicks to the face and head, Izuku decided that he should, in fact, worry about it.

.

The broken-down building was not what Izuku had been expecting.

"Are you sure this is the right place?" asked Izuku.

"Absolutely," said Mr. Yagi, who was shaking somewhat. "This Pavlovian response only confirms it."

"Um." The building looked condemned. "Maybe he moved."

"One can only hope," said Mr. Yagi. "Maybe you sh- No. I have to see this through." He steeled himself visibly, squaring shoulders. "Please not a kick to the face," he said, under his breath.

"Is he really that bad?" asked Izuku.

"My boy, I guarantee you that he's worse."

.

"Poor kid has no idea what's coming," said Banjo. "Although we wouldn't have believed it either if we weren't riding along and watching."

"Nana," said En, "I just want to reiterate that I'm very glad you never thought about giving One for All to Gran Torino."

"Come on. Sorahiko isn't that bad," protested Nana.

"We know," said everyone else, "he's worse."

.

They walked up to the apartment building door. Mr. Yagi sighed heavily on seeing the door was hanging open, which was a radically different reaction than what Izuku would have expected.

"Is Danger Sense doing anything?"

"I don't think so?"

"Let me know if that changes."

"R-right," said Izuku. Mr. Yagi pushed the door in, and Izuku followed cautiously after him.

They went down a few hallways, peeking in rooms. Then they got to the kitchen, and Izuku covered his mouth with both hands with a gasp at the grisly, bloody scene. Gran Torino laid on the floor in a pool of red liquid. "Oh my gosh, he's-"

At the same time, Mr. Yagi said, "At least it's not a kic-"

The supposedly dead hero was suddenly airborne, and flying towards Mr. Yagi, foot first. Specifically, at his face. "You thou-"

Danger Sense spiked. It was a tiny spike, but still.

Izuku reacted. Specifically, with nerves shot by the USJ attack, he reacted violently, lashing out with a fist, swatting Gran Torino out of the air and back into the puddle of what was, in retrospect, probably diluted ketchup.

For a moment, everything was silent.

"Oh my gosh," wailed Izuku. "I assaulted a senior citizen!"

Gran Torino bounced back to his feet. "I like this kid, Toshinori!"

"I'm... glad?"

"Now show me what you've g-"

"Gran, please, we're only here for quirk help, not battle training."

"What's the difference? You're going to want to use it in battle eventually, right?"

"I mean," said Izuku, hesitantly, feeling like he had whiplash several times over, "yes?"

"See?"

"Just help with controlling Float. Please." Mr. Yagi pressed his hands together. "Please do not pick a quirk fight with a civilian teenager. Please."

"We are on private property."

"Assault is still illegal on private property."

"He's the one who hit me!"

"I know! I'm so sorry," said Izuku, doing his best to bow in the cramped space. "It was a reflex."

"After you attacked me!"

"Yeah, but you knew I was going to do that!"

"That doesn't make it better!"

Gran Torino turned to Izuku. "Kid, I don't know how you did it, but it looks like you made this big softy grow a backbone. Next step is to see if you can get him to do this with Mirai, too."

"Um," said Izuku. "I think he already had a backbone? He's All Might, after all."

"Nah, he's just a giant spindly amoeba who needs to take better care of himself."

Mr. Yagi slumped.

"But back on topic," said Gran Torino, eyes much sharper than before. "Do you really have Nana's quirk, kid?"

"Y-yeah. I think so. It was only a little bit, during the attack, but... yeah."

"Let's see what you can do with it, then."

"Um," said Izuku.

"Gran, maybe you should get cleaned up first? Young Midoriya and I can take care of the kitchen..."

"You don't know how to turn it on, do you?"

"Not really, no," said Izuku.

"We've got our work for today cut out for us, then, don't we, you zygotes?"

Wow. Gran Torino really did call people zygotes.

Wild.

[bffsoobin]

Apartment 370

↳everything about your apartment was perfect. Aside from your neighbor. Choi Soobin has become the bane of your existence. You can’t go a single day without looking over your shoulder for your misleadingly handsome neighbor. Just how many petty pranks does he think he can get away with?

➤ enemies to lovers!au, neighbors!au, arguments, petty behavior, swearing, fluff

Word Count: 3,062

Requested?: yes

Warnings: none really other than swearing and Soobin kind of being an ass. I also didn’t proof read or edit this, as per usual.

A/N: To be honest I’m feeling a little unsure about this? I loved the concept and I’m very glad that a lovely follower requested it but I feel like lately all of my writing has started out really well and then just got progressively worse? Like all of the endings I write are just kind of lame? Just a weird insecurity I’ve been encountering lately. So please leave me some feedback on what you think about this!

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•

You loved your apartment. It was small, but just right for you to live in. The shower had hot water, your bedroom had a beautiful window for your plants to sit on and the wifi connection was always working well. You even only had to travel up two flights of stairs if your elevator stopped working. There were a lot of pros to living at your complex. But there was one, massive, glaring and obnoxiously loud con. Choi Soobin. When he had moved in next to you, you tried to be nice. You knocked on his door and introduced yourself; making some kind of lame joke about borrowing sugar. 

He didn’t laugh. He just introduced himself back and apologized for not having any sugar. Apologized? Had he really missed the joke that bad? Your delivery had been impeccable. Despite his charming face and annoyingly adorable style, you decided there was no way you could be friends with someone who didn’t understand a classic joke. 

Soobin must have decided there was a reason he didn’t like you either, because just about a week into being neighbors he began to wreak havoc. He played music as loud as it possibly could be at the weirdest times of the day and yelled at his television way too much no matter what he was watching. It seemed like every day you had to storm over and knock on his door to complain. This went on for weeks until he finally agreed to stop when you threatened to involve your burly landlord in the matter. 

For a few days, you enjoyed peace and quiet. You came and went from work without seeing him, took naps in silence and remembered how it felt to cook in your own kitchen without the sound of a twenty something year old man screaming at reruns of Survivor as background music. 

As they say, ignorance is bliss, because little did you know Soobin’s silence was about to erupt into a new, massive volcano of stupidity. One night you woke up around 4 am to the sound of scratching coming from the wall that connected your and Soobin’s bedrooms. You were already annoyed at the fact that you had to be up at 7am to pick up an early shift for your slacking coworker, so you didn’t have it in you to just roll over and go back to bed. You couldn’t have if you wanted to anyway because the scratching noises were only getting more and more persistent. You flung yourself out of bed with a groan. Pets were allowed here, and it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that Soobin had gotten a cat who decided to be a little extra scratchy. 

You poured yourself a glass of water in the kitchen, hoping to clear your mind and sort your thoughts. In the silence of the night, you could hear Soobin’s panicked voice through the thin walls. It sounded like he was on the phone with someone, as you could hear pauses as if he were listening to someone else. What a weird fucking dude, you thought. With eyes still drooping you walked back to your bedroom. The cat would have to be done scratching at the wall by now, right?

Wrong. The same consistent noise that would surely haunt your dreams still persisted. Knowing Soobin was awake gave you enough grounds to throw on a sweatshirt over your sleep clothes and go knock on his door. 

When it swung open, you could see just how distraught he was. His usually fluffy hair was flat and knotted and his eyes were sporting huge dark circles that only made the panic in them amplified. Wait, panic?  

“Y/N, I’m really sorry but you need to leave,” he had the door open just far enough to stick his head and shoulders out, as if he were trying to hide something. 

“No, Soobin. I heard your cat scratching at the wall and it’s annoying the hell out of me. I can’t sleep. Can’t you lock it in the bathroom or something?” His face scrunched in confusion. 

“A cat? I don’t have a cat.” Your insides boiled with hatred at the idea of him trying to lie his way out of this. 

“Listen up Choi. Unless you have a dragon in your bedroom scratching the shit out of the walls, I don’t want to deal with your lies. Just take care of it! I need my beauty sleep and you and your noisy cat aren’t helping at all.” Soobin’s face paled and for a second you thought that you had finally won. And then Soobin said:

“It’s not a cat. It’s a racoon.” 

You almost fell onto your ass right in the hallway. Soobin’s eyes sparked with a type of mirth you never thought such an admittedly gorgeous face could possess. 

“I’m calling the landlord.” You snapped the door shut in his face and turned away.

That had apparently been the final straw for Soobin. The next day when you got back from work, you found a handwritten “RACOON HATER” sign taped to your door. What you found inside was somehow even more unsettling. Your whole living room and kitchen had been essentially trashed. Throw pillows and blankets were thrown haphazardly on the floor, many of your photos and art you had on the walls were switched around or taken down altogether. And the worst of it all; everything was covered in a fine dust of glitter. It was a struggle to find a single surface that wasn’t covered in glitter, really. 

A new type of dislike for Choi Soobin brewed in your stomach. Hatred. Your kitchen counter- also covered in a dust of chunky silver glitter- became the victim of your frustrations as you slammed your hands down. It would cost you so much time and money to get all the glitter out of your living spaces, let alone the fact that you'd inevitably be leaving some behind for the next poor soul to rent this apartment. Gritting your teeth, you went to work with your poor little vacuum. 

You had only managed to clean your coffee table and half of your couch before you heard a series of loud knocks on your door. You grumbled at the idea of having to take a pause in your work but you trudged over to the door anyway. 

To be honest, you had no idea who you were expecting to see behind your apartment door-which you belatedly realized was still decorated with Soobin’s handmade sign- but you didn’t think it would be the man himself. 

Soobin stood in the hallway, picture perfect as always. His face was tan and smooth and free from any possible blemishes. Had he plucked his eyebrows? They were groomed to neat perfection. His tall frame was dwarfed by a fuzzy blue sweatshirt that was easily a size too big. If you had met him by chance on the street, you would have fallen in love in an instant. But you knew better. You knew he was the one who reduced your once lovely apartment into the mess it was now.

“Oh, sorry,” he feigned innocence, “are you busy?” He didn’t even try to hide the smirk that blossomed on his face. A grumble of a curse fell from your lips before you responded. 

“Yeah. Some asshole decided to break into my apartment and spread glitter on everything. So yes, I’m sort of busy,” you laced your voice with enough venom to kill a horse, and it seemed as if Soobin had gotten the message as he shrunk back into the hallway a bit. His mouth opened and shut in rapid succession as he struggled to find the perfect retort. 

“I-” he cut himself off as his soft eyes became hyper focused on a spot on your face. Suddenly you were a new combination of concerned and offended. His hand hesitantly rose toward your face before the softness of his fingertips made contact with your cheek and brushed something away. You held your breath the entire time, unsure if you should be upset or worried or utterly lost in the way his skin felt against yours. The contact was brief but still made your skin burn bright red. When his hand left your cheek, you saw that he had brushed away a piece of glitter that was now resting delicately on his fingertip. 

“Sorry,” he hurried out, “I just wanted to get the glitter off of your face.” His whole demeanor had changed, and you were sure that whatever plan he had in mind when he knocked on your door had vanished. 

“Okay, weirdo,” you tried to ignore the way you were yearning to feel his touch again, “I’m still busy so can you like, go away?” Upon hearing your words he turned away to head for his apartment door with ears as red as you’d ever seen them. 

Although the glitter incident was now months behind you, you still often found pieces in random spots around your home. And Soobin was still a pain in your ass. He had been quiet for close to two weeks after your odd encounter and you were almost convinced that he had changed his ways. You were quickly proven wrong when he conned the man who works the front desk into hiding your mail for a week straight; making you subsequently late to paying some of your bills. 

More recently, a new person had moved into the apartment across the way. The first day you met him, you were busying yourself with taping up Soobin’s door with bright pink duct tape from the outside. Your new neighbor-who you learned to be named Yeonjun- had squatted down right next to you and offered to help tear pieces of the tape. 

You and Yeonjun had become fast friends. He was incredibly charming and willing to lend an ear every time you needed to complain about Soobin. For a while, you were almost able to forget the fact that the devil incarnate lived next door to you. While your work schedules tended to be a little crazy, the two of you managed to talk for at least a few minutes every day. He helped you gain some sanity back within your apartment hallway. 

Despite also being friends with Soobin, Yeonjun never took sides in your little feud; but you were always secretly worried that somehow Soobin would put a bug in his ear. One day, about two months after Yeonjun had moved in, he knocked on your door while you were in the middle of making dinner. You invited him in but he hesitated. 

“I just came to talk to you,” he bit into his bottom lip, “I really like you. But I don’t see us ever being more than friends. I hope you understand.” You scrunched your eyebrows. Where was this coming from? 

“Uh okay? I know that. I don’t like you...like that, Yeonjun. Did you hit your head or something?” You were seriously confused. Yeonjun’s eyes widened comically. 

“Well Soobin said that-“ as soon as the words fell out of his mouth Yeonjun put together the invisible puzzle pieces. His face morphed into extreme regret.  “I’m so sorry. I should have known it was part of your weird prank war. You should have seen how convincing his acting is though, he really had me thinking you had a crush on me.” You scoffed at the idea of Soobin beginning to spread rumors to one of your closest friends just for the hell of it. If Yeonjun hadn’t been mature enough to address it right away, you could have gone through weeks of confusion about why he was avoiding you.

You looked back at your kitchen, catching sight of the steaming bowl of ramen you’d just finished making. Sighing, you shut your door behind you to stand in the hall with Yeonjun. He looked sheepish in your presence as you laid a hand on his shoulder. 

“I’m not mad at you, Yeonjun. I’m going to talk to the bane of my existence,” you gestured toward the door with the shiny ‘370’ plaque. “Just don’t bother calling the landlord if you hear yelling.” As soon as you heard the sound of Yeonjun’s door snapping shut, you laid into Soobin’s door with a heavy knock. As soon as it was opened far enough, you wedged your body inside and subsequently sent Soobin stumbling backwards. 

“How dare you?” You roared, throwing your hands in the air dramatically. “I’m fine with your petty pranks and all the other stupid shit you pull against me because that’s all between the two of us. At least it’s funny and gives me something to think about in my free time. But when you start to involve my friends? That’s way too far. There was no reason to rope Yeonjun into this. He’s your friend too, Choi.” Soobin seemed surprised that you had come in with so much to say right off the bat.

“Y/N it’s really not that big of a deal. I just wanted to see if you actually had the capacity to have a crush on someone. And you’ve been spending so much time with Yeonjun I figured he’d be the perfect person to test my theory with, plus the humiliation factor of him not liking you back would have kept me entertained for days” he sat down on his couch casually, “I guess he had to break it to you that you aren’t as flirty and irresistible as you think you are, huh?” The air crackled with tension as you gawked down at his sprawled form.

“What are you even saying? Yeonjun and I are just friends. And why does it matter to you if I have the capacity for a crush or not? You hate me. If you’re just waiting until I get a boyfriend so that you can come in and ruin it all with your shitty vendetta then you’re much worse of a person than I ever pegged you for!” Tears welled in your eyes but you wiped at them angrily. Out of all the fights and disagreements you’d ever had with Soobin, this was the first one that stirred an odd emotion in the pit of your stomach. You were tired of the back and forth. Soobin seemed oddly alarmed at the formation of your tears as he got up from the comfort of his couch and approached you like a wounded dog. 

“Trust me, I have no grand plan to ruin your life at every turn even though that’s what you think. You spend so much time with Yeonjun, I thought maybe you liked him. I knew he didn’t like you because when I told him that I-” Soobin actually clapped his own giant hand over his mouth as the words hung in the air between you. Anger shot through your mind at the idea that he didn’t even have the guts to relay the entire story. 

“You what? You’re so wrapped up in your own little world but you can’t even finish telling me what you said to someone else? I can’t believe you, honestly,” you turned and made your way toward his door, wanting nothing more than to go home and take a hot shower. Soobin’s hand clasped around your wrist as he gently yanked you away from the exit. His strong grip kept you standing right in front of him and although you struggled against him, there was no use. 

“I told him that I like you.” For a second, you thought that you had misheard him, but he continued. “I told Yeonjun that I like you. And he told me that I should go for it, because he doesn’t see you as more than a friend. But I freaked out so I told him that you liked him. I knew you probably actually didn’t.” 

Your brain was short circuiting at the confession. Choi Soobin, who had complicated your life beyond belief since the day he moved in months ago liked you? 

“But,” your eyebrows drew together as you tried to comprehend it all, “you hate me, Soobin. We have a whole...rivalry! There’s no way you actually have feelings for me. I swear if this is just another prank I’ll shove my hand so far down your throat-“ Soobin threw his hands up in front of his body in a form of defense. 

“No! I don’t hate you, Y/N. I’ve liked you since the day we met. I just thought the pranks and petty stuff was like...our way of hanging out? That’s why I kept doing them. I thought you were having fun with me.” It was ridiculous how much he sounded like a little boy explaining his side of the story to a teacher. It was even more ridiculous that the corner of your brain where you’d stuffed all your feelings for Soobin began to overflow. 

“Haven’t you ever heard that there’s much better ways to tell someone you like them? We could have spent the last 11 months not at each other’s throats if you would have just manned up and found out I like you too.” You saw the exact moment that the words finally processed and his entire face lit up with the recognition. 

A familiar, deeply dimpled smile grew across his face as his skin reddened. He clasped his hands in front of him and swayed back and forth on his feet. Before you could think to stop him, he leaned in close enough that you worried he could hear your heart thumping against your ribs. 

“You like me too?” 

“Yes, Soobin. I like you too. And I would like you even more if you stopped your stupid pranks,” you tapped his nose with your pointer finger twice. He nodded eagerly with his tongue sticking out from between his teeth slightly.

“Deal,” he stuck his hand out to you and you raised an eyebrow to silently ask if he was serious. His hand didn’t waver, so you grasped it firmly and pulled him toward your body until you could wrap him into a tight hug. It was an odd feeling, soaking in Soobin’s scent as he gently rocked the two of you back and forth in his apartment. Odd, but good. Perfect.

[effei-s]

anderson and his paradox:

about the duality of a man.

(aka see me rambling in this 1500-words long essay about how much i love him)

the first half of his paradox: he’s more than capable of love. i would even dare to say that love is a driving force behind 99% of his actions.

let’s look at examples:

adam’s mom (aurora):

i’ve said it before, i’ll say it again: he worshiped the ground she walked on. it’s a fact. it’s what adam said about him in unravel me: i know he loved my mom. it was always her, everything was about her.

her death was probably the worst thing that happened to him, the loss that made him truly suffer, hence him constantly talking about how he wants to shield warner from it. that whole thing with lena is not about control itself, it’s about warner not making his own mistakes. there’s a genuine desire to protect there.

evie:

considering how little information is given about them it’s honestly amazing how much there lies between the lines (can mafi write everything the way she’s written them, please?).

they’re the perfect example of my favourite type of soulmates. he’s actually second worst person on this planet, because first place is already taken by her. there’s no one who knows him better then her (she knew about adam = she knew about aurora). there’s no one who understands him better than her (them being two vital parts of the RE from the very beginning). it doesn’t matter how much they fight, he trusts her with his life no questions asked: he comes to her before ignite me and asks her to make him immortal. considering evie’s words in defy me about how she was ready to kill him for trying to kill juliette in unravel me it was very risky of him (because if there’s one person that could slit open his throat and kill him for good, because he let his guard down, it would be evie). he trusts her to do her job and has no doubts about her capability to succeed. his first reaction to her death is ‘what? it can’t be real!’ because evie for him is almost untouchable entity ‘if they couldn’t hurt me, they sure as hell won’t be able to hurt her’. when he realizes that it’s true he’s terrified.

and anderson doesn’t do terrified.

/i really don’t know what can scream LOVE louder than this/

warner:

we can’t not talk about warner here.

warner betrays him and he still saves warner life. you need to remember that the only reason why warner is still alive in defy me, after he committed treason, is because anderson protects him.

by that time in restore me/defy me anderson, who technically lost his position as a supreme, still managed to save warner’s life /because he’s cool like that/.

“I had to call in a number of favors to have you transported here unharmed. The council was going to vote to have you executed for treason, and I was able to convince them otherwise.”

even evie doesn’t dare to fuck with warner because she knows anderson will come at them with the wrath of god.

“If Aaron were anyone else’s son,” she says, “I would’ve had him executed. I’d have him executed right now, if I could. Unfortunately, I alone do not have the authority.”

anyone else’s son.

so yeah the problem here is not that warner is one of the heirs of the RE. the problem here is that he’s anderson’s son.

plus his entire conflict with juliette is rooted in the fact that she

a) tried to hurt warner

unravel me:

I cannot allow him to protect a person who has attempted to kill him.

restore me:

The monster we’ve bred has tried to kill my own son.

b) tried to take warner from him.

restore me:

Worse, she’s become a distraction for Aaron. He’s become—in a toxic turn of events—impossibly drawn to her, with no apparent regard for his own safety. I have no idea what she’s done to his mind.

and then in imagine me he declines warner’s offer.

“You would be willing to sacrifice yourself—your youth and your health and your entire life—to let that damaged, deranged girl continue to walk the earth? Do you even understand what you’re saying? You have every opportunity—all the potential—and you’d be willing to throw it all away? In exchange for what?Do you even know the kind of life to which you’d be sentencing yourself ?”

/i dare you to tell me he didn’t love warner, i dare you/

juliette:

as a cherry on top, there’s juliette, of course.

when we’re talking about hate we’re talking about juliette, no questions asked. i truly believe that his hatred for her was stronger than his love for aurora and evie combined. and still what brings him down for good is not hate for her but adoration of her (oh irony, my irony).

after 12 years of hatred, after 12 years of her being ‘the bane of his existence’, he still ended up spending his dying breath to make sure she will be safe.

“I ordered you to remain silent,” he says, glancing back at her. “And I am now ordering you to remain safe, at all costs. Do you hear me, Juliette? Do y—”

“Kill them,” Anderson gasps, blood staining the edges of his lips. “Kill them all. Kill anyone who stands in your way.”

just like defy-me warner, imagine-me juliette survives ONLY because of anderson.

he even apologized to her at one point.

“You know, I realize now that I’ve been too hard on you. I’ve put you through too much. Tested your loyalty perhaps too much. But you and I have a long history, Juliette. And it’s not easy for me to forgive. I certainly don’t forget.”

anderson??? admitting??? that??? what??? he??? did??? was??? wrong???

and not because he needs to get off the hook, but because he actually feels like it was too much???

ALERT THE MASSES, THE WORLD NEEDS TO HEAR ABOUT IT!!!

btw, do my eyes deceive me, or did this ‘not easy to forgive’ mean that he actually already FORGAVE her for trying to kill him?

anyhow if that wasn’t enough look at this:

“What could possibly go wrong?” Anderson asks. “She’s more powerful than any of them, and completely obedient to me. To us. To the movement. You all know as well as I do that she’s proven her loyalty again and again. She’d be able to capture them in a matter of minutes.”

do you see it?

it’s the same thing that happened with evie: no one here is strong enough to hurt her (oh, i can see some PROJECTIONS here happening).

it’s funny how the way Anderson acts is EXACTLY what I expected from Warner. he isn't just talking about how she can do anything, when moment comes he ACTS.

Anderson is guarding Juliette. The same Anderson who’s spent so much of his energy trying to murder her—is now standing in front of her with his arms out, guarding her with his life.

i’d still prefer for her or him to kill ibrahim but even without it... he says you can burn this place to the ground, I don’t care as long as you’re safe, he chooses her over not only the RE, he chooses her over WARNER.

/and you expect me not to ship this??? sure, jen, i’m not gonna/

conclusion number 1: yes, my beautiful people, everything Anderson does in one way or another tied to love.

the second half of his paradox: love doesn’t make him a better person, it doesn’t even make him fully human. you’d think that if person capable of such strong feelings there’s supposed to be something worth saving, just like castle’s said:

“Of course he’s a regular person, son. That’s exactly the point. We’re all just regular people, when you strip us down. There’s nothing to be afraid of when you look at Anderson; he’s just as human as you or me. Just as terrified. And I’m sure if he could go back and do his life over again, he’d make very different decisions.”

(castle is a fucking idiot, never listen to people like him or you’re gonna end up neck-deep in shit)

but at the end of the day anderson remains a fucking monster.

his love for aurora doesn’t stop him from marrying another woman and having a child with her because it’s the easiest way to social climb.

his love and devotion to evie and re (mostly evie, because evie is the reestablishment) doesn’t stop him from playing games with juliette and putting everything and everyone at risk just because he’s bored.

i won’t even start commenting on warner’s situation, because otherwise we’re gonna sit here for days and i’ll end up with 100k words essay about them.

and even his enamourment with juliette doesn’t actually protect her from his violent nature. even this perfect, absolutely perfect juliette still has to prove herself (cut off her finger to show her loyalty). it still very easy for him to hurt her.

conclusion number 2: him being in love, him caring about someone, him trusting someone doesn’t change his fundamental nature. he still remains a destructive force put into a human body.

he’s a fucking satan.

and that’s exactly why i love him.

[trashmenofmarvel]

Branded - Chapter 45

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky will do whatever it takes to get her back.

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by araniaart​ . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

Chapter Warnings: Anger, grief, thoughts of violence, angst

AO3

Bucky paced like a wild animal, back and forth, tail lashing with each circuit he made. He hadn’t slept. He hadn’t eaten. He hadn’t functioned much at all in the past few days, and he was always a heartbeat away from snapping like a wire pulled too taut.

He couldn’t go through the door he was pacing in front of, the demonic wards holding him at bay. It was just as well. Without them, he would have marched straight inside and ripped Helmut Zemo’s spine out his throat.

It wouldn’t have solved any of Bucky’s currents problems, but it would have improved his mood. And it might have distracted him for a few moments from the black hole currently residing within him. A negative space where the bond had been. Every moment that void was there, he wanted to tear out his own heart.

Maybe he’d still get the opportunity if they couldn’t find a way to bring her back. He’d end his own life for a fast one-way ticket to the demon realm if he had to, and there Bucky would stay until he found her.

And then… what? They’d be trapped there forever? Why didn’t that scare Bucky as much as the thought of being separated, with her being all alone in that place? He knew she was resourceful. She’d proven it by the fact they’d captured Zemo at all.

When the gun had gone off, Bucky had felt like he’d been the one shot, only it hurt so much worse because he actually knew what a bullet to the gut felt like. He’d barely made it in time to catch her as she fell, and he’d been in no state of mind to deal with Zemo after that. Steve had barely been conscious by the time Strange and the others had found them, so it wasn’t him who had caught the bastard.

No, it had been the Alp itself that had stopped Zemo. Before the man had even gotten a chance to order his demon to teleport him away, it had used its paralysis aerosol on Zemo and knocked him into a peaceful sleep. And then it had vanished in a puff of sulfurous smoke, leaving its master there to be collected by the sorcerers.

The thought made Bucky shake his head. Somehow, Bucky’s girl had managed to make a demon turn on its own master. Not once, but twice, if Bucky was including himself.

Leave it to her to befriend a demon and turn it to her side.

Leave it to her to give everything for Bucky, including her own life. And what had he done in the time since then except vacillate between rage and grief? Between shouting at Strange and standing by Steve’s healing bed like a mourner at a funeral, waiting for them to come up with a rescue mission.

The sorcerers had made little progress, and Bucky feared their only hope lie in the man that had murdered her.

Bucky would have gotten the answers out of Zemo himself, if only for the fact he couldn’t get his hands on him. The demons wards weren’t to keep Bucky out, they were to keep Zemo from calling his demon slave to teleport him away. No matter how had they’d tried, the sorcerers couldn’t break the demon bond. And no matter how much the Alp might not want to, it wouldn’t be able to resist the call of its master, no matter how far away it was. Bucky had learned that lesson the hard way with his own escape attempts from HYDRA.

So now they were at an impasse. Zemo imprisoned but refusing to cooperate, and the sorcerers unable to get anything useful out of him but having no choice but to keep him locked up. Bucky hadn’t be surprised the sorcerers had failed to take away Zemo’s last Hail Mary. If they were capable of breaking demons bonds, they wouldn’t be in this situation to begin with.

The door opened, and Strange had to wave him off before Bucky accosted him with questions.

“Well?” Bucky asked, impatient. “What did he say?”

“Still nothing helpful.” Strange glanced at Wong as he too strode toward the door. It shut with a heavy thud behind them, no doubt locked by all sorts of arcane spells. “It’s clear that Zemo doesn’t know how to work the demon gate with any expert knowledge and relied solely on the red book to achieve his goals.”

The circular stone archway they’d found in the basement of the Siberian compound, which Strange had named the “demon gate,” had remained inert no matter how the sorcerers tried to manipulate and power it. How Zemo had managed to summon the Alp through it, but it wouldn’t respond to the sorcerers, left Bucky short-tempered and frustrated.

It was nothing compared to the guilt. The shame at being controlled, manipulated into almost killing Steve. He was still being tended to by the healers, and the only reason he wasn’t in a hospital was because Strange had insisted they take him to the Sanctum.

And as if that wasn’t bad enough, then Bucky’d nearly killed her. His worst nightmare being played out before his eyes, or it almost had. Through their tenuous bond she’d somehow broken through to him, and Bucky had managed to stay his hand when he’d never been able to do so before.

It had been… freeing. Liberating to disobey a direct command. To be ordered to hurt someone he loved and having the strength to resist.

And then Bucky had failed to save her anyway. She’d died, right there in his arms, her heart going silent the loudest thing he’d ever heard. As if that hadn’t shattered his world enough, she’d turned to ashes in his hands, the stink of sulfur and brimstone stinging his eyes as she slipped through his fingers.

In that moment, Bucky’s bond to Zemo had been severed. One of the apparent benefits of a demon having a human slave. She’d gone to Hell so Bucky could be free.

And all he’d managed to do with that freedom was absolutely fuck-all.

Bucky’s fist flew, the jagged knuckles of his armored hand knocking a sizable chunk out of the stone wall.

Strange merely lifted his eyebrows. Wong frowned in disapproval. Bucky didn’t give a shit. They should have woken him as soon as she’d gone missing, but instead, he’d woken on his own, bursting through the cryo-chamber and shattering its door to pieces. He’d been so confused and enraged that the sorcerers had had to bind him with glowing ropes and wards until Bucky calmed down enough to explain she was being tortured, and he could lead them to exactly where.

So, yes. As far as Bucky was concerned, this was as much Strange’s fault as it was his, and the only reason he was even still tolerating the sorcerers is because they were her only chance of rescue.

If they could get the fucking gate to work, anyway. A big fucking if. Apparently, sorcerers could make portals on Earth without a problem, but crossing into other dimensions was even beyond Strange’s capability.

And yet, she had been able to do it as a ten year old child. Bucky had hoped, maybe, somehow, she would be able to summon that power within her once again and come back to him, but there had been no sign of any mysterious blue portals popping up on Earth.

So as pissed as he was, Bucky had to remain patient, and right now, he had to pay attention.

“I have an idea on how to power the gate,” Strange said, wearily eyeing the damaged wall before turning to Bucky. “We have more of HYDRA’s research that Zemo ever did, and I have no doubt we will be able to create a stable connection soon.”

“Soon isn’t good enough,” Bucky snapped, struggling not to snarl at the sorcerer. “Every minute here is hours over there. Each day wasted is weeks she has to endure, alone, in a place humans were never meant to survive. We can’t—“

The lump in his throat forced him to silence. Bucky couldn’t say what he’d been thinking, and from Strange’s sympathetic expression, it didn’t need to be said.

They might already be too late.

Bucky still wanted to punch Strange in the face. If he cared so damned much, why hadn’t he kept a closer eye on her? Zemo may have been smart, hell, he was probably a genius to figure out how demon magic worked, but how had he managed to outsmart a whole sect of sorcerers?

“We will move as quickly as we can,” Strange said, indicating Bucky should follow him. “I don’t wish to waste any more time than you do.”

Bucky somehow doubted that, but he still followed after the head sorcerer. His tail twitched as they made their way deeper into the Sanctum, to the place Bucky had spent every waking moment when he hadn’t been by Steve’s side.

“I am aware of the time dilation in the demon realm,” Strange said as they walked down a spiraling set of stone steps, “but it might not be uniform or even linear. Your experience may differ from hers.”

If Strange thought that would be comforting news, he was wrong. Bucky didn’t need an overactive imagination to come up with whatever horrors she might be facing now. He certainly didn’t want to dwell on the possibility of… of finally making it to the demon realm and realizing hundreds of years had passed.

Bucky couldn’t… he couldn’t think about it. He would lose his mind. Bucky would only let despair swallow him after he was a hundred percent sure that… that there was nothing left to hope for. That she was truly gone and wouldn’t be coming back.

That he would never get to see her again. To watch as her eyes brightened and that familiar mischievous grin tugged at her lips. To hold her in his arms while he buried his nose in her hair, filling his nostrils with her scent and—

Bucky shook his head and grit his teeth. He couldn’t afford to get distracted, not when they were closer to their goal, so he forced himself to focus on Strange’s words. Something about a power source needed to fuel the thing, and that Zemo must have hidden it away from the base because the sorcerers couldn’t sense it. Bucky honestly didn’t understand most of it, only that it would take an unnatural power source to get the gate running.

The underground lair, as he called it, left Bucky as awed as the first time he’d stepped food inside. The room was essentially a giant dome constructed of very large stones, but the most interesting aspect of the room was the glowing glyphs carved into the stones. The power thrummed under his skin and set his arm plates rigid as his tail flickered.

And there, in the middle of the room, lay the instrument that had been the focus of his frustration and anger over the past few days. A stone gateway, teleported here by great effort from the sorcerers. It was ancient, possibly constructed during the days of the Holy Roman Empire, or so Strange had rambled. Bucky was too fucking stressed to appreciate the mythical history lesson.

When the sorcerers working on the gateway turned to Strange and confirmed it couldn’t be powered by anything in their vaults, Bucky turned away, fists tightening, mentally preparing himself for what he had to do. But before he could take even a single step, Strange laid his hand on his shoulder.

“Just a moment, Sergeant.” Strange’s voice was gentle, and it was the only reason Bucky didn’t grab the hand on his shoulder and break it. “There’s one thing left to try. It’s not without danger and risk, but—“

“I’ll do it,” Bucky said immediately. “Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”

“I suspected you might say that.”

Strange’s smile was sad but accepting as he patted Bucky, and then let his hand drop. Bucky’s desire to strangle the man went down a few notches, and if this worked and he got her back, Bucky might even forgive him.

Might.

Strange straightened his posture and faced the stone archway, held his hands in front of his chest in a manner that meant he was about to cast a spell, and he said, “Though I must warn you, tapping into the power of the Infinity Stones can be quite dangerous.”

With an intricate pull of his fingers, glowing patterns in the air emerged, and that’s when Bucky finally noticed the green light shining from Strange’s amulet. He’d vaguely wondered around the thing always around the sorcerer’s neck, and now Bucky had an answer as to what it was. Something otherworldly, deadly, and strong enough to compare with the power of the blue cube HYDRA had once wielded.

A deep thrumming filled the room, vibrating through the air and up the stones, the potential of something building made Bucky’s wings flair behind his back.

Then the glyphs along the demon gate began to glow, first green like the stone and then to a bright blue that made Bucky’s heart clench with fear. Strange blue lights often accompanied the demonic rituals HYDRA had conducted on him, but he swallowed down the panic and didn’t blink.

The charge in the air built higher and higher, until with a crackle of electricity, the empty space between the archway suddenly filled with light. It pulled outward to the edges, a border of blue around a watery image that sharpened into something Bucky recognized.

The demon realm.

“I can’t hold it forever!” Strange yelled, his hands still in the same position as he somehow, impossibly, held the gateway open using the green stone around his neck. “Get moving, Sergeant!”

Bucky didn’t have to be told twice.

With none of the hesitancy he’d shown the first time being confronted by a blue portal, Bucky flared his wings as he raced forward and gave one hard flap, lifting off and darting through the gateway like a missile launched from its tube.

The dry wind buffeted him from the other side and Bucky nearly nosedived into the red sand, but he managed to right himself and soar up into the air. The human side of him balked at the alien surroundings, but it was the demon part of him that Bucky needed now.

Orienting himself to the familiar magnetic fields of the planet, because in a sick way he’d been alive longer here than on Earth, and he knew this place as intimately as his home.

Turning in the direction of his territory, Bucky pushed his body as far as it would take him and flew faster than he ever had before.

Hold on, sweetheart, he prayed to her, hoping he was heard. I’m coming.

Next Chapter

[rogue-durin-16]

THINGS NEVER GO AS PLANNED (Part III/VII)

"shock therapy"

Summary: After Fred's death, George and Y/n lean on each other to carry on. This wasn't the most brilliant idea, though; George was pretty much in love with the girl, and Y/n— well, she had been dating Fred prior to the Battle of Hogwarts.

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Genre: angst mostly

Tags:

Suggested by: @crispykittywitch

Things never go as planned: @sarcasticallywitty15 @beautyschoo1dropout @s1ut4georgeweasley @leovaldez37 @missmulti @weasleywh0r3s

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog

Warnings: language, grief, allusions to suicide, mentions of death, let me know if I missed something

A/N: okay this is... Kinda dark, but I mean, expected given the prompt I'm working with lmao, I'd say enjoy but... Well, enjoy <3

Prologue: the aftermath

Part I: sleepless nights

Part II: candy floss

Part IV: wrong name

Part V: the perfect excuse

Part VI: the downfall

Part VII: apart

Epilogue: I still love you

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

It began with small actions, like waking up earlier than me, or taking on making breakfast himself.

I thought he was feeling better.

Then came the big actions, like deciding to switch places with me an working with the clients while I made the shippings.

I started to feel something was off the third day since the exchange; I escaped the office to visit him and he could have easily passed as the giant mannequin in our façade.

"Are you alright?" I questioned in a worried whisper near his ear.

"Of course." I knitted my brows, puzzled at his response. He noticed how odd it had been due to my face, and that forced smile fell for a second as he leaned on me to place a kiss on my crown. "Don't worry about me, darling."

Before I could insist, his attention was stolen by a couple of very confused clients.

The following night in the flat, while we were making dinner, it seemed he had gone back to his usual demeanor, so I figured he was making extra effort to look happy in front of the customers.

I couldn't shake off the feeling that something was wrong, though, something between us; I couldn't pinpoint it, yet knew it existed.

It was that same night that I got a grip of what was going on, when the bed's weight shifted, shaking me out of my sleep just in time to hear a muffled sob followed by a shaky breath.

"George?" His eyes met my own as I propped myself on my forearms.

"Did I wake you?" He questioned, his voice as quiet as mine. "Sorry, love."

Sometimes —more often than not— when he called me that name, I would feel butterflies in my stomach, and the fact that it was normally accompanied by some kind of physical contact didn't help at all.

He extended his arm to reach my hand, his thumb caressing the back of my palm. "Go back to sleep." He commanded in a soft whisper, getting up and walking towards the door.

As the door closed, my chest ached at the mere possibility of us going back to the first week we spend together in the flat after the war.

GEORGE'S P. O. V.

I went straight to the kitchen and splashed my face with water before pouring myself a glass of milk.

Y/n had the brilliant idea of throw away all the alcohol in our apartment to avoid falling into bad habits as a copying mechanism, and, in all honesty, it was one of her best ones.

Grabbing the glass, I made my way to the living room, plopping down on the couch; I wouldn't even try to fall asleep there— it was proven impossible during the first week.

I had to snap out of it and start to sleep in my own room; the war left us all scarred in s million ways, and one of them included that even the slightest, quietest movement would wake you up, and I knew for a fact that Y/n wasn't getting one single night of sound sleep, and I was the one to blame.

"Oi," Speaking of which.

"What are you doing up?"

"Checking on you." She responded, leaning against the doorframe "You alright?" I nodded, but she walked to the couch either way, sitting down and letting herself fall over my chest. "You've been acting weird." She mumbled, snugging her face on my chest and consequently making my heart swell. "You can tell me anything, you know that, right?"

I hummed, my chin resting over her crown as my arm wrapped around her. "I know." I murmured, knowing very well it was lie.

There was several things I couldn't and wouldn't tell her ever, but I wouldn't let her know that. "C'mon, go back to bed."

"Not without you." It wasn't more than a mumble, since she was beginning to fall asleep on my chest, but it was loud enough to trigger me.

How many times I had dreamed of having her just like this, how many times had I yearned to wrap my arms around her and never let go, to kiss her, to sleep with her before the war; I still did.

I still wanted to kiss all her sadness away, to be able to call her mine; I still loved her in a way I shouldn't, and somehow it felt even more wrong now that Fred was gone.

It took me a moment to realise she had, in fact, fallen asleep. I carried her back to her bed and lay her down, carefully pulling the sheets to cover her.

I lay down too, promising myself I would face my fears the next day— I owe her that, at the very least.

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

Y/n had left the apartment to go down the Diagon Alley to buy groceries and a new blouse.

It's now or never, I thought to myself, standing at the start of the hallway. I took a deep breath and made my way to my room with my bags hanging on my shoulders.

You can do this.

I reached for the knob with shaky hands and turned it.

You can do this.

My arms pushed the door open in a swift movement, my eyes anxiously scanning the room as if I was expecting to find a monster inside.

But there was no monster, it was just my room; a bit dusty and with a musty smell, but still my room.

I left my bags on the floor and sat on the edge of my bed. It wasn't scary, nor haunted, as I thought it would be, and I felt a weight off my shoulders; Y/n would be able to sleep the nights through, instead of waking up every now and then to my gasps and sobs.

Since it had been way easier than I thought it would be, I decided to take it a step further; I would have to enter there sooner rather than later to clean, so why not now?

Oh, what a big mistake I had made.

READER'S P. O. V.

"I'm back!" Somehow, I had managed to climb upstairs whilst carrying all the bags without tripping. "Did you know that Florean Fortescue's has three new ice cream flavours?" I threw the Twilfitt and Tatting’s bag on the sofa and made my way to the kitchen. "Don't be mad but I got you something at Twilfitt and Tatting’s!" Laying the groceries over the counter, I frowned at George's lack of responses. "George?" I left the kitchen and took a look around the flat; maybe he was down in the shop?

I was about to go downstairs when I saw a crack of light down the hall, one coming from a partially open door —from Fred's door.

My heart pounded hard against my chest as I made my way to the part of the house we rarely got to.

I knew George had to be inside, but the fact that no sound was coming out of the room —no sobs, no weeping, no ragged breathing— was about to put me under cardiac arrest.

What if during the last week he had gotten worse —rock bottom kind of worse— and that was why he had been acting so distant? What if those 'don't worry about me's had been foreshadowing something terrible?

I shut my eyes, my pulse hammering as I pushed the door open, dreading to find a horrifying scenario.

Open your fucking eyes, Y/n.

I couldn't help the sigh of relief when I saw George kneeled in the middle of the room, alive and breathing.

Then, I doubled checked and realized that maybe he wasn't that much alive. I circled the ginger so we could be face to face, and my heart shattered at the sight in front of me; his eyes were puffy, his cheeks pale, his nose red and streaks of freshly shed tears wetting his face. His hands clutched onto something that I quickly recognised as Fred's blazer, and my breath caught up in my throat.

"George..." I called his name in a quiet whisper; somehow it felt like we were trespassing.

He then looked up at me, eyes hollow, and spoke words so harsh that they burned, even if they weren't meant to hurt me. "It should have been me."

"George—"

"It should've been me there, I should've gone with Percy."

"Please—"

"It should've been me, not him." I felt my eyes watering, slightly blurring my vision as the man before me kept talking. "He had a life— he had you, I didn't have anything but him." His gaze was now casted down, and I no longer knew if he was speaking to me or to himself. "What am I compared to him? It should be me six feet under, not him."

That last sentence was what snapped me out of the state I was in. "Look at me." I commanded, kneeling in front of him and cupping his cheeks. "Do you think Fred would've wanted you to think that?" His lower lip quivered; we rarely said his name out loud anymore. "He would have beaten your ass. Don't you dare think like that ever again, you hear me?"

"But it's true—"

"No it's not!" I yelled, making him flinch. "It's not, George." I repeated, this time softer, my thumbs caressing his cheeks soothingly. "You're sweet, creative, caring and smart, and I'm so happy to have you here with me." His eyes closed, eyebrows knitted and lips pursed. "You're your own person, and that person is amazing." He leaned on, letting his forehead fall on my shoulder, my hands travelling to his back and hair as his arms wrapped around my waist.

"I miss him, Y/n." He confessed. "I miss him so much— it hurts."

“I miss him too, but I can’t let you lose yourself because of him.” I explained, planting a chaste kiss on his temple. “I cannot lose you too, okay?” I whispered, loud enough for him to hear.

"I'm sorry." His breath fanned on my neck, sending shivers down my spine. "I wanted to get better, so you didn't have to take care of me."

"Oi," I squeezed him tighter, if possible. "We're taking care of each other." His face buried deeper in the crook of my neck and I had to hold back a content sigh. "We can do this— together." I stated. "You can't go on your own for shock therapy— it doesn't work like that." He nodded. "You gave me a big scare."

"I'm really sorry." His hand, which, until then had been holding onto the blazer, let go of it in order to rub my back.

We stayed like that in silence for Merlin knows how long before I spoke against his shoulder, "I bought chocolate strawberries ice cream."

"Is that a thing?" I hummed affirmatively. He slowly pulled away, his hands leaving my back to rest on my waist before they held mines, pulling me up with him. We gazed into each other's eyes for an instant that felt like an eternity. "I didn't mean to scare you, love." He assured me, pulling me into another hug, this one only long enough for him to kiss my crown.

"I know." I pulled away, giving him a small smile that he managed to return, most likely involuntarily. "Wanna try that ice cream?" He nodded and I led him out of the room. "I also bought you a tie at Twilfitt and Tatting’s."

"Why would you buy anything from there?" His voice was starting to recover some strength as we walked to the kitchen with our hands interlaced.

"'Cause it was a very pretty tie." I defended myself, going to the sofa to grab the fancy bag while George went to grab a couple of spoons and the ice cream. "Look."

He walked to me and examined the tie. "Okay, it's quite pretty." He agreed, offering me one of the spoons.

"Told you." I handed him the tie and he gave it another look before leaning down to kiss my cheek.

"You didn't have to buy me anything." That small smile appeared again, making my heart swell.

"Well, I wanted to." I went to sit on the couch and he followed my lead, carefully leaving the tie over the backrest so he could open the tub.

"Sweet." He commented, dipping his spoon into the ice cream and handing me the container. We ate it in silence and, once we finished, his voice filled the room. "I think I might go for a nightwalk."

"It'll do you good." I nodded, bringing my knees to my chest and curling up in the couch after he took the spoon away from me and got up to leave it in the sink.

"Do you wanna come?" His quiet, almost sheepish question made my head turn to the kitchen door. "I mean— you've just come back but—" He left the kitchen, staring at me expectingly, scratching the back of his neck. "uh... if you wanna come, I could use some company."

"I'd love to." I didn't even notice the way my gaze lighted up until I saw it reflected on his own features, that shone with the slightest tinge of joy.

The fact that I was able to do that only by smiling at him made my tummy flutter.

[lokislittlesigyn]

//okay just a personal post, carry on and ignore it if you like!

//tw for mental health mention, ptsd, some.. general vent-but-good stuff

So. Ah.

I’ve been wanting to make another personal post for a while. It’s just never felt right. I don’t want to upset people,or seem like I’m begging for attention, or over-share, but I also really appreciate the kind words and support people have. And.. I think I’m supposed to share? I should talk, if the time’s right? I won’t say it’s comfortable, because it isn’t always, and right and comfortable aren’t always the same thing. But I think this is right, even if it may not be comfortable.

Long story short, I brought my parents along to a therapy meeting with a new specialist that my original therapist transferred me to. I was worried my first therapist didn’t have a full grasp of the severity of what’s going on, and I needed my parents help - as the people who spend the most time with me - to express just how bad things are. The new specialist was.. Incredibly kind. He listened and cared and believed us, and suggested two things.

1. We pursue a higher level of care. Because of the severity, meetings every few weeks (or, maybe even once a week) might not be enough.

2. We conduct a series of screenings and tests to gauge what we’re dealing with, and the severity, with the possibility of getting medical necessity for further help/testing.

So this Thursday, we did the tests.

It’s a strange thing. I’ve been desperate to know what exactly is happening. What’s “wrong” with me so to speak. I suppose wrong isn’t a kind word for it, but it’s certainly not fun, the things that are going on... But I digress.

Only one came back truly negative: turns out I probably don’t have ADHD.

But depression? Positive. Moderate-severe. Anxiety? Positive. Moderate, but only because I have coping mechanisms - the specialist thinks it’s more severe than the test shows. OCD? Positive. Extremely high. Stress? I tested in the highest possible section. The same section as first responders. As people who charge into burning buildings. In the specialist’s own words, my stress levels were “off the charts.” And PTSD... I was abundantly positive and severe on that. He said if the population of the US were likened to 100 people, me and only 3 other people would be dealing with the level of PTSD I do.

And after talking to him, he confirmed my suspicions. I struggle with complex PTSD. Multiple traumas happening multiple times over... Years. Over almost my entire life. CPTSD, with symptoms of depression, anxiety, OCD, and high stress, all stemming from the underlying trauma. It was both validating and humbling to find all this out.

On the upside, these are all connected issues, like a bundle of roots from an invasive plant. On the downside, these are all connected issues, compounding on and feeding off one another.

I did another test too. A test for a certain “disorder” that came back two points away from positive. The specialist recommended better testing on that, because the written tests are flawed, and can be biased, and depending on the day results can be different. As I think about it, I realized, I think I answered some of the questions wrong. I misunderstood. And if I’d answered differently - more honestly - I think it might have been positive. I’m not sure.

I’m a little scared, honestly. I desperately want to know what’s going on. To have a name for all of this. To have a name so that I can start knowing what to do. But if I do have this... I’m going to need time to accept and process it.

I had a feeling this summer would bring a lot of self-discovery. I felt I’d find out a lot more about myself this year. Maybe these tests are part of how that happens.

For now, I’m grateful for what we know. We’re pursuing more treatment. We’re getting help. My parents have asked me to make lists of things they can do to help soothe me and make everyday life less hard - even just little things, in the hopes they’ll compound on one another. Good to balance out the bad.

It sounds very strange to me. I can’t help but wonder why we’d change anything. I’m coping well enough as is, aren’t I? I haven’t given up yet, so why should we change anything? But I think that’s the coping talking. I’ve learned that life will only ever get worse. Maybe things can get better? I just have to put faith in the fact they can... Which is immensely difficult. So many other things in my life have proven just the opposite.

But I hope I’ll be victorious one day. I have to hold onto that, right? Hold onto that and keep trying?

For what it’s worth, everyone I’ve told the test results to has been extremely kind. I wasn’t expecting it. I was expecting people to treat me different, I guess, and maybe reveal how exhausting and frustrating I am, or have been, and.. Leave.

But they didn’t.

I’m glad.

if you read this far, i commend you. this is very long and probably a lot of information. i don’t know if this will help anyone but... if you’re struggling, with anything, and you’re able? maybe try to get help. i know it can be hard, and scary, and it might not make sense. but even just in these sessions, i’ve tasted a little bit of kindness, a little bit of relief, a little bit of validation and understanding and proof that what i feel is real. i’m not just making it up or being dramatic. and that alone is worth the trouble.

be gentle with yourself.

[celestialtitania]

whatever it is (whatever it isn't)

A big thank you to my lovely betas @anabielvriskamars and @kellynicole515! Read it on AO3 or FFN.

Norman watches Emma play with Phil and Shery, a small smile growing on his face as he waits for his coffee to brew. He knew her memories were wiped away, but at the core she was still the same Emma he had always known.

The one always ready to make a ruckus with the kids. Naïve but determined. Strong but pure. He chuckles as the kids give her a big hug before rushing to get to school on time.

"Come on," he beckons Emma. "You need to eat, too." She gives him a sheepish grin as she sits next to him on the table, forgoing the coffee for some orange juice. He hands her a plate of toast, marmalade already applied just how she likes it and tells her to eat.

She wrinkles her nose, putting the plate back down on the table. "Um, thanks Norman. I don't really like the taste of marmalade though," she sighs. "But wasting food is even worse," she sighs at the toast again.

Ray rolls his eyes at her as he sets down his own plate of toast. "You hate marmalade that much?"

Emma nods emphatically, "It's bitter and feels leathery." She gingerly pokes at the toast, looking as though all of her energy had been sucked away.

Norman frowns at her words but Ray just hums. "You're alright with butter?" She blinks as he gestures towards his plate of toast. Emma's face brightens as she happily swaps the two plates and begins to eagerly eat the breakfast Ray had prepared.

Norman sits there feeling quite confused. Emma had always preferred marmalade over something as plain as butter. He's about to ask when it occurs to him. The products must taste different from the demon and human worlds; after all, they were prepared differently. Mystery solved, Norman basks in joy at having the chance to speak with Emma and Ray without an imminent threat out to get them. Each and every moment was precious now, regardless. Norman has been through too much to ever think otherwise.

After breakfast, they go with Emma to visit her Gramps, the old man who had found her and taken her in two years ago. As they walk through the town, Norman expects to see Emma jumping excitedly or wanting to frolic in the snow. She does neither and the only time she lets out her exuberant nature is when Gramps opens the door.

The old man is clearly delighted to see her, just as much as she is to see him. Another thing about Emma that will never change. She has a way of drawing people to her wherever she goes. He'd seen it countless times, just her words and compassion changing enemies into friends, back in the Demon World.

They talk while Norman and Ray quietly sit and listen. They appear to have several inside jokes but that's only to be expected after living alone together for two years. At the end of their visit, Emma gives the old man a big hug before he takes Norman and Ray aside to thank them.

"She was alone when I met her. I probably wouldn't have gotten through my grief without her. You boys take care of her now, you hear me?"

Norman practically glows as he assures the man that he would do his very best to keep her safe and happy. Beside him, Ray appears thoughtful before voicing his own thoughts.

"Emma likes to take care of herself and she's still figuring out what makes her happy, but we'll always be there for her when she needs us," he says seriously. Norman thought that was a simple answer, especially when they had firsthand knowledge of what made Emma happy.

But the old man looks rather pleased as he laughs out loud. "Well said," he claps both boys on the back before he leaves them with Emma. The trio decide to take a look around the market before heading back home. Emma marvels at the sights but doesn't seem at all eager to purchase things. He'd expected Emma to point out all the things, the other kids would love.

Norman supposes it would be hard to buy things for them when she doesn't fully know their tastes anymore. Not that he would let something like that stop him from making sure Emma was having a good time.

His eyes light up as he spots a plush toy stall. He has an idea which he thinks is absolutely brilliant and was sure to put a smile on Emma's face. He separates from Emma and Ray, brushing off their questions and promising to catch up with them in just a moment.

Puzzled, they agree heading over to one of the food stalls. Norman smiles as he wonders why the idea never struck him before. Even if she didn't remember wanting to, the desire had to come from somewhere.

He picks the best quality the shop has before paying and rushing out of the store. He taps Emma on the shoulder before holding the plush in front of his face. Slowly, he lowers it to see her surprised expression.

"For you," he hands the plush giraffe to her waiting expectantly to see her smile joyously. Emma does smile but it's a confused one. She thanks him as she stares at the giraffe.

"Are you trying to tell me that I'm short?" She asks him after a moment. Norman tilts his head and asks her to explain her thought process.

"You know," she waves the giraffe around. "You're much taller than I am. Is this your way of saying you feel like a giraffe next to me?" She's frowning at him but her eyes show her amusement.

He can't help it. He throws his head back and laughs because that did sound like the sort of thing he would do. Emma tries not to but she's snickering with him while Ray rolls his eyes in the background.

Once they've caught their breath, Norman shakes his head. "No, I mean, I know it isn't big enough to ride but it's still cute right?"

Emma looks at him blankly, so Norman expands on his point. "Uh, some of the younger kids were saying that they wanted to ride a giraffe one day so I thought maybe you would too?" It sounds weak, even to his own ears but Norman didn't want to make Emma feel subconscious about not remembering the past.

Emma hums in response. "Ahh, sorry Norman," she apologizes sincerely. "It's a nice gesture but I'm not too interested in riding a giraffe. They're kinda weird looking, don't you think?" She giggles but Norman is frozen.

"But it's a giraffe," he repeats helplessly. Emma looks over at Ray who simply sighs and walks over to Norman, who is still asking how Emma could possibly dislike giraffes. Ray tries to get Norman to stop talking but something in Emma's expression changes.

"Oh, I must have used to like giraffes, that's it right?" Ray winces as Norman is forced to nod, there was no way to lie to Emma's face. "But now I don't. That must hurt you."

Norman nods again, an uncomfortable feeling growing in his stomach. Emma has never looked at him like this before and it hurts.

Norman opens his mouth to try and speak but Emma keeps talking before he can get even a syllable out.

"I thought you said it was okay that I was different from who I used to be," Emma asks, the expression on her face is unreadable but Norman can hear the quiver in her voice.

Norman winces as he shakes his head. He's reaching out, trying to form a physical connection to Emma but she steps back, a small frown beginning to appear on her face. "Were you just lying or did you think there wouldn't be a difference to begin with?"

Norman flinches, the words he'd said to Emma at their reunion coming back to him. He'd known she wouldn't be the same naïve and reckless girl. He'd prepared himself for someone who was more cautious and quiet.

"It's the little things," comes spilling out, unintentionally but it's enough to give Emma pause. She raises an eyebrow, clearly expecting him to explain himself. Norman swallows hard as he tries to come up with a way to tell her how he felt without hurting her.

"He was in love with you," Ray says bluntly, making Norman gape in shock. Emma's jaw drops as she turns to stare at Norman with wide eyes. Norman closes his eyes, as the pit in his stomach grows larger while mentally cursing Ray. But he also knows there was no other way to explain how he was feeling.

"You're still Emma," he reassures her. "You carry love and kindness in spades, especially for your family. You're bright and optimistic and that's the Emma that I fell in love with. It really doesn't matter how much you've changed to me because at the core, you're still Emma. It's just...we used to be best friends. I knew Emma better than I know myself."

Here Norman pauses to take a breath and try to decipher Emma's reaction. She still looks surprised but he can't figure out what she's thinking. Instead, he presses on.

"For the longest time, the only thing I could rely on was my brain. I've always known the right path to take, I can trust my knowledge. But now...you're still Emma but it's like I hardly know you. I know why that is but I still have trouble accepting that, of all people, I don't know things like your favourite flower or something." Norman flails an arm to emphasize his feelings.

Emma is biting her lip, seemingly deep in thought while a glance at Ray shows him studying the ground with intense fascination.

"It's not that I don't want to learn more about the new you, because I do! It's just become a habit to think I know what Emma loves and when I'm proven wrong, it's like the world has flipped on its head for me."

Norman bows his head, waiting for either Ray or Emma to speak now that his confession is over. They both remain silent. Finally, he looks up in exasperation.

Emma is staring up at the sky, looking completely lost while Ray is trying his hardest not to laugh.

"Guys?" Norman asks hesitantly and the flood gates open. Emma is sighing at him loudly while Ray laughs so hard he can't breathe.

"Stupid Norman," Ray chortles while Emma nods her head in agreement. While Norman gives them an affronted look, Emma shakes her head.

"Norman, you've already done the hard part," she finally says to him.

"What," Norman asks blankly; the conversation was going in a direction he didn't expect and he was left completely lost.

"As far as you're concerned, it's just confusing that the little things have changed right? Not that you wish the other Emma was here instead?"

Norman's eyes widen because that was a question which he has never even considered. He anxiously thrums his fingers on his leg, to ground himself while trying his best to answer honestly. "I won't lie and say that I don't miss the Emma I grew up with, but I appreciate her sacrifice. I meant it when I said that the best thing was for me to know you were happy and safe. That's all I've ever wanted for Emma."

"The little things that give you so much trouble? They would've been different, regardless. People's tastes change y'know and you've been separated from Emma for four years now," Ray rolls his eyes at Norman. Norman winces because those four years of separation weren't something he liked to think about.

"Maybe it's the way you're going about it? You want to think of me as the same but different at the same time," Emma muses, putting a finger on her chin as she turns to Ray.

"Huh?" Norman isn't even going to pretend he has any idea where this conversation is going.

Ray nods, "Norman is kind of stupid like that, he won't get it any other way."

Emma grins before sticking her hand out towards him. Norman stares at it, utterly baffled.

"Hi, I'm Emma!" Her eyes flick meaningfully towards her outstretched hand as she smiles beatifically at him.

"I know who you are?" Norman questions, eyes darting between Emma and Ray. Ray gives him a look, practically ordering him to play along so Norman does, quickly shaking Emma's hand and introducing himself.

"Get to know me from scratch," Emma tells him, leaving no room for argument. "Then those little things won't come as a surprise." She looks down, letting out a small laugh. "We'll kind of be on the same playing field that way."

That sends a shock through his system. Emma was working so hard to get to know all of them again, that included the little things which were second nature for those who had grown up together. She was struggling just as much as he was.

Norman smiles. "It's nice to meet you!" He chirps excitedly, warmth spreading through him at Emma's grateful look. Norman slings his arms around his two best friends. "I love you both," he tells them firmly. "Emma is new but I have no idea what I'd be doing without you, Ray."

Emma let out a startled laugh as Ray tries to shove Norman away while he hangs on stubbornly. Soon enough all three of them are laughing like there was no tomorrow.

In between laughs, they catch each other's eyes and Norman is content with the knowledge that things will be better from here on out.

@tpnfanworks

[supernatural-jackles]

The Man on the Side of the Road - Part 14

Title: The Man on the Side of the Road - Part 14

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 3,510

Warnings: Minor Angst, Mentions of Semi- Forced Prostitution, Manipulation,  Ketch is a HUGE douchebag, Anxiety, Sickness, FLUFF!

Summary: Driving down the road, going well over the speed limit. You come across a man walking in the opposite direction with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. His head cast down as he walked. Your gut instinct is telling you to check on this man, no matter what your parents told you growing up. Little did you know just how much this would change your life.

The Man on the Side of the Road - Masterlist

A/N: Are you ready to hate Ketch more? Happy Sunday!! As always, I love hearing your thoughts on this story!! Only two parts left after this!! Happy reading!! 

Finally!

You were free.

 You walked out of the building with your head held high. You had just finished your last final for the semester and you had a great feeling about it. Not only was it your easiest exam, but it was also your longest. It was a simple essay about the things you had learned in the class throughout the semester and how they are relevant to your life outside of the class. It was simple and you finished it in record time. Now you were free until next semester. You had all of Christmas break to relax and spend time with your boyfriend.

 It was your turn to pick up the groceries this week. Dean had wanted you to grab him some shampoo, and a stick of deodorant. That was all he needed. You on the other hand needed a bunch of things. You were out of tampons and running low on pain meds for the monthly visit from Mother Nature. The fridge was practically empty, and the freezer was no better.

 You grabbed a cart before entering the store. It was pretty empty for just after one in the afternoon. Everyone was at work, which was going to make shopping a little easier. You went about your usual routine. Starting with fruits and vegetables. You had certain things you needed in order to make dinner. Dean liked to have lettuce in the house at all times because of how useful it was. Tacos, burgers, salads. So many purposes. You picked up some carrots, onions  and celery too, knowing it was going to get cold. It was always good to have for soup.

 You turned down the aisle you needed the most, grabbing a box of tampons off the shelf, along with a box of pads, just in case. Your cart was getting pretty full with all of the stuff you threw in on your way to this aisle. You headed straight, knowing that Dean’s shampoo would be at the other end when you hit something.

 “Y/N,” the female voice breathed out. Your eyes darted up, not believing what you were seeing. The last person you wanted to see, well, one of the last people you wanted to see anyways. Hell, you were surprised she spoke. 

 “Jo,” you scoffed, taking your cart to move away from her.

 “Y/N, wait,” she called out.

 “What? What do you want Jo?” you rolled your eyes, throwing your hands up in defeat. Her stomach was huge. She had to be seven months along by now, at least. You had to admit to yourself, it was a little funny to see her in this situation.

 “To apologize,” she frowned. “Can - can I take you out to lunch, please. I promise, one lunch and I’ll leave you be.”

 “What’s the point?” you sighed.

 “We were best friends at one point,” she sniffled.

 “Were,” you pointed out.

 “Please. I just - I want to explain things,” she shrugged. “Please. You can hate me all you want after. But I’d really like to tell you everything.”

 “Okay,” you nodded. “One lunch.”

 “I’ll meet you at Benny’s in twenty?” she told you.

 “Yeah,” you agreed.

 You went about the rest of your groceries. Your mind was reeling over what just happened. What could she possibly have to say to you, especially after all this time? She had Ketch, and she had a baby on the way. She was wasting her time, and quite frankly, so were you. There was nothing more she could say to make amends for all she did. She had proven she didn’t care about you long ago. 

 You paid for your groceries and headed back out to your car. Thankfully, you didn’t buy anything frozen so you could afford to sit for a little while without things melting. You didn’t think this lunch was going to last long whatsoever. You had visions of you storming out on her. Or worse, seeing Ketch there with her. You really didn’t want to do this. Why did you have to be a good person? Why did you have to listen to that tiny voice in the back of your head that was telling you to hear her out. 

 You pulled into the parking lot at Benny’s, taking the first available spot around the side of the building. You swallowed hard, knowing full well you should have ditched and headed home. You held your head high, willing yourself to stay confident. You didn’t want her to see you were weak or hurt by this. You were over this now. You were over Ketch and you had moved on. Your life was going better than it had been for a long time. You weren’t about to resort back to how things were before. 

 Jo was sitting in one of the booths that the group of you used to sit in late at night when you were drunk. They served the best of everything in this diner. It was a shock that you and Dean hadn’t eaten here yet. He’d like everything here, you thought to yourself. She had her hands out in front of her, linked together. You could see she was nervous. She had every right to be after what she had done to you.

 “Hi,” you greeted her. Her head flicked up, her eyes meeting yours.

 “Hi,” she swallowed hard. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

 “I’m a woman of my word,” you said plainly, taking a seat in front of her. You kept your expression emotionless. 

 “Y/N, I’m so sorry, for everything,” she breathed out. “Words can’t even begin to describe how sorry I am for what I’ve done to you.”

 “You’re damn right,” you scoffed. “There is nothing you can say that is going to make up for two years of it, Jo. Nothing. I don’t know what your intentions were when you wanted to talk, but if you thought I was just going to forgive you and we’d be best friends again, then you are stupid.”

 “Y/N, I’m not expecting your forgiveness. I don’t deserve it. I just wanted you to know my side of it. I should have told you about it. I really should have, but I was in trouble,” she began. “I- I was running out of money about two years ago. My mom only left me a little bit of money, the rest had to go towards paying off her debts, and everything else. I needed a job, so I asked Ketch if he could get me a job somewhere. A waitress at the country club, anything! I was desperate. I had nothing. I was about to be kicked out of my apartment.  He told me he had a job for me and to show up at his place at nine. I thought I was helping with a party or something. Turns out he was offering me money to sleep with Mick. So I did. I made a couple of grand for a couple of nights. I thought that was it. I had enough to keep my apartment, and I got the job on campus like I told you.  Then he told me that he’d pay me more for a threesome. I figured the extra cash would help so I agreed.  I didn’t know it was him until after the fact. He’s been paying me to keep quiet about it and to keep sleeping with him. He didn’t want to screw things up with you. He does love you, I want you to know that that part wasn’t made up. He was pissed and heartbroken when you didn’t show up for the wedding. I found out I was pregnant a few days after the wedding-”

 “I’m sorry, but he didn’t love me if he was sleeping with you,” you shook your head. “I’m sorry that things turned out that way for you, I am. But I wish someone would have told me I was wasting my time on him. I could have been happy with someone else. I was going to marry him! Why didn’t you stop that? Why weren’t you my friend? Why was he more important than that?”

 “You’re right. I realize that now. I’m nearly eight months pregnant with his baby; a baby he doesn’t want. I screwed up my life. I know he’s not going to stick around when I have her,” she admitted. “But I want you to know that he’s not over you. He’s convinced that he’s going to win you back. He’s just giving you space.”

 “I’m with someone else now,” you shared. “Ketch is dead to me as far as I’m concerned.”

 “Good for you. I hope this one treats you much better than he did. You deserve so much better than Ketch was to you. He controlled you too much. You look happier than I’ve seen you in a long time. You haven’t messed your life up like I have.”

 “It’s not completely your fault,” you shrugged. “You didn’t exactly have a choice.”

 “I had choices, I just made the wrong ones until I couldn’t get out of them,” she swallowed hard. “I’m glad you’re okay after all of it. I’m glad nothing happened to you. You deserve a better life than what was given to you.”

 “It took me a long time to be okay,” you admitted. “I - I wish you the best with your life, and your baby. Congratulations on the girl, by the way. I hope for your sake, he sticks around to help you. For once, he should pay for his mistakes.”

 “Who knows with him,” she whispered. “His parents are being more than supportive. Makes up for him.”

 “Good. I’m glad,” you nodded.

 “I should let you go, get back to your boyfriend and your life. You’ve got groceries,” she reminded you. “Thank you for coming.”

 “Yeah,” you breathed out. “Good luck with everything.”

 “Can - can I call you after she’s born?” she questioned.

 “Sure,” you agreed. “Take care.”

 You hopped back in your car, peeling out of the parking lot to head home. There was a part of you that felt really bad for her. It all started because she needed money. All because her mom died suddenly and she couldn’t handle things on her own. She made bad choices after bad choices and ended up in an even worse situation with a monster. You understood where she was coming from. You were happy you sat down with her and learned what you did. Ketch was an asshole, but then again you already knew that. It just sucked it took her this long to come forward. It didn’t matter to you at this point. You were over it. 

 You pulled into the driveway, finding Dean’s car still sitting in it’s usual spot. Was he home from work early today? It was rare for him to be home early. You managed to take all the bags inside in one go. The front door was already unlocked for you, and quite frankly, you couldn’t wait to see your handsome boyfriend when you walked inside.

 “Dean, I’m home,” you called out as you shut the door. Pure silence. Not a single sound from the house. You shrugged it off as you kicked your shoes off, taking the grocery bags to the kitchen.

 You began unpacking them, putting everything on the counters before putting them in their respective places in the house. It looked like a lot more in the cart than it did when you had it on the kitchen counter.

 “Hi,” his deep voice called out. You smiled, turning around to face him. Your face dropped when you saw him. His nose was red, his eyes a little puffy. He looked exhausted standing there in a green henley and pyjama pants.

 “Hi handsome,” you cocked your head to the side. “No offense babe, but you look a little under the weather.”

 “I caught a damn cold,” he pouted. Your heart melted at how adorable his pout was. He could get you in a lot of trouble with a face like that.

 “Poor baby,” you frowned. “I can make you some soup if you want?”

 “Would you mind? I feel like shit - no I feel worse than shit,” he admitted. “My nose is stuffy, my head is pounding. My throat is killing me. The worst part is that I can’t even kiss my girlfriend when she gets home from finishing her last exam.”

 “Come kiss my cheek,” you smiled. “I’m not afraid of your germs.”

 He slowly stepped over to you, a smile creeping up on his lips. You reached your arm out, your heart rate picking up as he grew closer, slipping into your hold. His lips pressed against your cheek, lingering a little longer than you anticipated.

 “How did your final go?” he asked you, moving to sit on top of the counter.

 “Aced it,” you grinned. “As you can see I went grocery shopping. Any kind of soup you want?”

 “Can you make tomato rice?” he pleaded, giving you his puppy dog eyes.

 “Anything for that face,” you beamed. “I want you to go into my bathroom, the drawer on the left. There is some dayquil in there that should help you feel a bit better. I’ll give you the nyquil before bed tonight.”

 “Thank you,” he muttered. “I’ll take these with me.” He grabbed the two boxes of yours off the counter before heading to your room. You smiled as you watched him walk away.

 You managed to get the rest of the groceries away without a problem. You felt bad for Dean. Having a cold was the worst and he sounded like he was suffering. You could only hope that the dayquil helped him, along with the soup you were making. You didn’t like seeing him sick.

 “Y/N,” he called out, his voice coming out raspy.

 “Hmm?” you cocked your eyebrow, glancing over at him.

 “I would help but-”

 “Go lay down. I’ll bring your soup in for you in a little bit. I’ll hold you later, play with your hair the way you like it,” you assured him.

 “I’m so damn lucky to have you,” he muttered the best he could.

 “Nah, that’s me,” you winked.

 You pulled out the supplies you needed to make his tomato and rice soup. You couldn’t have been more thankful for the vegetables you picked up. You had everything you needed to make it. You just hoped it was good. You hoped it made him feel a million times better. You didn’t like seeing him sick like this. He looked miserable.

 It took about an hour to get the soup done. It looked and smelled delicious. You couldn’t wait to try it for the first time. You placed two bowls on a tray you had tucked away in a cupboard, along with two glasses of water and a sleeve of saltine crackers.

 You walked over to Dean, seeing him curled up on the couch with a blanket covering his body. He was exhausted. You just wanted to hold him until he felt better. He had what looked to be Snow Day, playing on the tv. Not that he was paying attention.

 “Babe, time for some soup,” you whispered, nudging him awake. He let out a groan, shifting from his lying position just a little.

 “Sorry,” he mumbled, “tired.”

 “I know,” you frowned. “I’ve got your soup, and some crackers. I hope this makes you feel a little better.”

 “Me too,” he let out a dry laugh. “Thank you for making me this.”

 “‘Course, boyfriend,” you giggled. “I hope you like it.”

 “I’m sure I will,” he nodded, taking the spoon off the tray. The steam coming off the soup was still pretty strong. You took a spoonful, blowing on it before taking your first bite. The flavours hit your taste buds instantly. It was delicious. One of the nicest soups you had ever made. Dean looked like he was enjoying it. “This is delicious, sweetheart.”

 “Thank you,” you beamed at him. “Fingers crossed this makes you feel better.”

 “Just seeing you makes me feel better,” he shared with you.

 “You’re such a sap,” you giggled. “I love that about you.”

 “I gotta make up for not being able to kiss you for the next couple of days,” he shrugged.

 “You’re cute,” you smiled softly. “I’m so lucky to have you in my life.”

 “I’m the lucky one,” he shrugged. “How was your day anyways?”

 “Interesting,” you started. “I uh- I ran into Jo in the grocery store. She asked me to have lunch with her.”

 “Did you end up going?” he questioned, taking another bite of his soup.

 “Yeah, I did. We didn’t eat lunch or anything, but I heard what she had to say,” you began. “She told me about what happened between her and Ketch. How it all got started. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear it at first. But I was kind of glad she told me. She was having money problems after her mom died, and Ketch offered her money to sleep with his friend. It ended up that he was paying her to sleep with him and to keep it quiet after that. She told me that he loves me and all that jazz. He’s apparently heartbroken that we’re over and he doesn’t want anything to do with her or their kid.”

 “That really doesn’t surprise me all that much,” he admitted. “Did she apologize to you?”

 “Yeah,” you nodded. “She did. But we’re never going to be friends like we were before. Or even acquaintances.”

 “Yeah, I wouldn’t be either. I’m glad she apologized to you though. She owned you that much. It's a little sad it took her this long to do it.”

 “Yeah,” you agreed. “I told her that part of my life was over and I had moved on with someone pretty great.” you nudged him. You looked over at him, seeing the smile appear across his cheeks. You liked seeing him smile like that. You knew you did a good job of making him feel wanted and that was something he needed.

 “I’m not that great,” he shrugged. “Better than Ketch in some ways-”

 “Dean Winchester, one, don’t you dare compare yourself to someone like Ketch, ever! And second, you are the best person I know,” you argued.

 “Y/N, I can’t give you what he surely could have. I’m not rich or have connections like he does-”

 “And I’m not asking you to,” you assured him, letting out a breath. You glanced over at him, seeing the sad look in his eyes. That same sad look he wore for a little while when he moved in all those months ago. He had the same look he had from time to time when he didn’t feel so great. “Dean, that’s not really the problem is it?”

 “I just- I’m having an off day, and I’m not sure I deserve you.”

 “C’mere,” you muttered. He placed his half eaten bowl of soup on the table in front of the couch, you doing the same. There was no way you were letting him feel like this. He shifted closer to you and you opened your arms up for him to move into. He rested his head on your shoulder, melting into your hold. You pressed your lips against his heated forehead before resting your cheek on his head.

 “I’m sorry,” he muttered.

 “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. You know that,” you stated. “Ketch isn’t half the man you are. He may have more money than he needs, and connections to a lot of people. That’s what my mom wants. Not me. I don’t care how much you make, or what kind of job you have. I care about you. I care about the person you are, and the relationship we have. Nothing materialistic matters to me. Not in the same way it does to everyone else I grew up with. As far as I’m concerned, this is exactly where I want to be. You’re exactly who I want to be with. My best friend.”

 “Me too,” he nodded.

 “Good,” you smiled softly. “I’ll always be here for you. Whether it’s when you’re dying from sickness, or your head’s not okay. I’ll always be here to make sure you’re okay, Dean.”

 “Goes the same the other way around,” he sniffled before clearing his raspy throat. “I love you, you know that?”

 You swore, your heart was going to leap out of your chest. Dean just muttered those three words to you. He said them first. He had a fever of one hundred and something, and you knew he was high on cold medication, but he still said them. Your lip curled upwards, tugging him closer to you before you placed another kiss to the top of his head.

 “I know,” you nodded. “I love you too.”

 “Really?” he asked, his voice going a little higher than normal.

 “Really,” you stated. “My poor sick boyfriend.”

 “Is it okay that I said it?” he mumbled. “It’s not too fast?”

 “Not too fast,” you whispered. “Thank you for saying them. Means a lot to me that you do.”

 “Means a lot that you do too,” he said lowly. “I’m pretty sure I took nyquil.”

  “I’m pretty sure you did too, babe,” you giggled. “Get some rest. I’ll be here.”

  “Mhhh good.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

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[worminstuff]

karl jacobs lore ish thing

by crackba- mick.

here is my karl lore/ time travel brain vomit. i genuinely do not believe this will make sense to anyone because it is SO all over the place and a lot of the things said aren’t fully explained so i can do another more organized one if that’s what people want, cause this is literally just confusing brain vomit. i condridict myself and i don’t explain each thought which is because of how confusing the topic i’m explaining is. plus i’m a tad rusty lol.

while reading this you may form your own logical theories i may not have thought of, that’s okay and that doesn’t mean i or you are wrong, nothing about this is proven it’s just gumbled insane theory’s created by logic that hasn’t been proved yet. also all of my knowledge of time traveling is back from when i was 12 and had the mind of a crackbaby, so bear with me. good luck!!!!!!!

Okay so this is going to be broken up into a couple things so bear with me. I'm gonna go through some of karls lore for background, time traveling facts and or things to generally know about it and how it works and can affect things, and how these things will affect Karl possibly or maybe explain some things.

To start, Karl first started/learned of his abilities after the destruction of l’manburg. According to the wiki page (i know i'm sorry) he was done with picking sides and just wanted to see everything be peaceful with all of his friends happy. His end goal is to find a timeline that is peaceful and happy OR try to help each timeline he can find so that it will maybe cause peace in OTHER timelines.

The thing about time traveling though, is you physically can't do it “right”. No matter what you do you're changing or messing with something you shouldn't, because of the butterfly effect. The butterfly effect simplified is where when one thing is slightly changed it drastically changes everything else. When you time travel and change something there is always the loophole of future you did that oo, so it was already bound to happen before you could change it. You can't change” a timeline in theory, because the future happens based on the past so what you're doing “right now” has already happened in the future. I hope that makes sense. This kind of cancles out the butterfly effect, but if we were to rely on the butterfly effect without that logic then that is a whole other type of problem. By changing one thing, youre causing a chain reaction for many things to happen, after. This mostly affects things when traveling BACK in time, but it can affect the future too. If you were gonna go back in time to the day prior and let's say, not eat the breakfast you ate that day. When you go back to “present day” suddenly you've got a stomach ache and your mom gets worried and then you have to go to the doctors and then you miss school and suddenly you've got a tardy that messes with your grades and transcript to the point that it changes which colleges you would've gotten into had you NOT time traveled. Make sense? No? okay.

Karl has also more recently become aware of this place called “the between '', i'm gonna personally assume this is the place that each and every dimension/timeline available coincides in some way. Some sort of middle ground. In this huge castle/heaven like place of peace are books to guide karl. Who could be writing these books? A future karl who knows he’ll find them? Do they just exist? We don't know. In the last stream we saw at the end that there were many karls passing through each other as if they were all ghosts or something, non interacting with each other, but for some reason karl could see all of them. Why could he see them all but they couldn't see him or eachother?

Because he's witnessing other timelines overlap?

Wrong. Well maybe- each time you pass into a timeline, one that is close to yours (which karl does because why would they help the smp if they weren't that timeline?) so that means there is already a karl in that timeline. But he's putting another one in, himself. By overlapping these, it can cause many things to happen.

There are MANY karls that ALL time travel. So a possibility is that when one karl does something, another does something in that same timeline messing it up further. They're accidentally crossing dimensions.

Every time karl messes with the past, he's changing a future, so every FUTURE he's been to can't exist anymore unless we were to consider that in that future karl had already gone to the past in that time line many years prior causing it to be that way. This could be confusing to look further into though.

Why does this all matter? i don’t know.

Because karl cant change anything. Whatever he has done, or will do, is already set in stone by another karl, a future karl already did it and that's why that future is that way.

One could argue that he could force a butterfly effect continuously, but again, future karl must've already done that, because he lived the same thing this karl had.

This would mostly all aply if he were going to times when he was still alive, so let's think about how it is where he's going further and further into the future and past. If he's not alive then he's going into a timeline where he has already been there (because of the many karl rule things we went through a bit) so by going there he's only solidifying what future was already there. He's still not changing anything. Because what he's trying to save already happened. How could traveling so far into the pass make things so much worse? Because what he's trying to fix hasn't happened, but he's going to do is going to cause it. No matter what he's done, if he's staying in the same timeline and dimension, he's still only solidifying what (same but different) Karl already has done.

Bringing it back to the book in the inbetween thing, another theory could be that Karl DID succeed so he put books to force his other selves to follow what he did to keep that same outcome for whatever timeline he saved. But then back to the knowledge of “how could he have put them if he would've needed them to fix that timeline like the new karls will?”

I still don't know. why are you asking me?

That's why it doesn't make sense for any good outcome of this. Karl is messing with time, and in no way will he be able to “fix” it consistently. He's Not the only karl, and because of that, time will never be consistent.

Not to mention he's losing himself, that could lead to even MORE problems.

None of this made sense to anyone. I'm sure this is literally 12 year old mick brain vomit, if you understood any of this good on you. If not, I am so sorry you read all of that.

The thing about writing about this stuff is that the further you write the more you think of and the less it makes sense.

Stupid version of all of that: (this part is a joke)

Karl go different time that time change and he do bang bang which essentially won't actually change anything, because past/future karl would have already done it. When karl time travel, future karl did it first cause future karl USED to be present karl, and past karl isn't present karl yet. Which means, the wars were all karls fault lol

[loveafterthefact]

Love After the Fact Chapter 77: Three

The ending is in no way significant of anything at all. Definitely.

First  Previous  Next

Lance comes back in from the gardens with a frosty-furred, very happy wolf cub. Their quarters are still dark, lit only by the crackling fire. “Okay, go find Keith! Come on.”

The cub yawns, walks slow and tired over to the nightstand sniffing Keith’s ignored breakfast curiously. After a varga of play in the frost, Lance is surprised the cub’s got that much left in him.

“Beloved?” Lance gazes at Keith’s curled up form, burrowed into the blankets of their bed. “Are you alright?”

“Fine.” It’s not convincing. “I’m just nauseous.”

Keith’s nausea has gotten a lot worse in the last two movements. He’s been skipping breakfast on the regular, and now sometimes lunch. It’s worrying them both that he’s not getting enough nutrients.

Lance frowns, runs fingers through Keith’s hair. “You can tell me if something’s wrong. I can help.”

Keith shakes his head. “I’m just not myself today.”

“Is there really nothing I can do?”

“Just go to breakfast, okay? I’ll be fine... But maybe come visit me later?”

“Of course. I’ll come back as soon as I can.”  That at least earns Lance a small smile. He’ll take it. “What are your plans for this afternoon? Lay here and be sick?”

“Mhm. Maybe play with Wolfy and Bleeps a little bit. Try not to freeze to death.”

“Use your cloak. And mine if you want it.” Lance bends down to kiss his temple. “I love you. So much.”

“I love you so much too- Ugh.” Keith curls tighter around his unhappy insides. “I love you as much as I hate nausea.”

“Trash can’s right here if you need to barf; I’ll send food for you if you want it; I’ll come check on you as soon as I can.” With a kiss to Keith’s cheek, Lance leaves their quarters, hoping he’s not too late to breakfast.

In the dining hall, Lance takes his place, picking food off of platters as servants bring them over to him. As he digs into some flowers with honey, he can’t help but notice his father’s keen eye.

“It’s nice of one of you to join us,” Alfor murmurs. Next to him, Coran rolls his eyes, but says nothing. “Where is Keith?”

“Not feeling well. He’ll eat when he’s hungry.”

Alfor’s ice-blue eyes narrow. “I see. Did he contract something on Daibazaal?”

Lance slows his chewing rate, appearing thoughtful. “Possibly. He wasn’t examined very thoroughly when we returned, and Tavo only gave him two injections. I assume it’s because he’s Galra, so there are fewer concerns.”

“Really?” Coran finds an actual reason to cut in. “Perhaps you should talk to him about a more thorough exam?”

“If Keith has any concerns, he will consult Tavo or his own physician back on Daibazaal. I don’t need to do that for him.” Lance shoves a frost lily into his mouth, licking the sweet floral nectar from his lips. “I have a lot to do today. There’s legislature regarding our colonies that needs to be updated, and I need to have new machinery sent to Arus, which requires a completely unnecessary amount of paperwork.”

“If that’s your way of asking to be excused, you may go,” Alfor murmurs, gaze searing into his son. Lance has gotten pretty good at lying lately. But not good enough.

“Thank you.” Lance wipes his mouth, sips his water, flies from his seat.

“And do tell Keith I hope he starts feeling better soon.”

Lance’s hesitating footsteps tell Alfor everything he needs to know. He tucks into his own breakfast, not looking at his husband.

“Dear… Don’t you do it.”

“Do what?” Alfor whines. “I haven’t even done anything!”

“Ah, but you were thinking about it!” Coran’s dark eyes glint with amusement. “Remember what we were talking about? About minding your own business?”

“Yes, but-”

“But nothing.”

“...But I want him to know that we will be here for him if he needs us?” Alfor asks, hopeful. Trying.

Coran nods slowly, considering that. “Yes, alright.”

“What, really?” Alfor almost never wins when versus his husband.

“Yes. I think he’d appreciate knowing you want to be there for him. And me of course, but I have to speak with Admiral Sonne on Arus to see what the quiznak is going on. If Lance is this stressed about it, I might have to hop over and knock a few heads together.”

“I hate it when you travel,” Alfor sighs, rising from the table, grunting at the pain in his knees as he straightens his legs. Coran follows suit.

“I know, but it would only be for a few quintants. Maybe a movement or two.”

“That’s so long,” Alfor bemoans.

Coran kisses him, sweet and familiar. “You’ll live, my darling. You always do.”

“Well... If you have to go, I guess you have to go.” Alfor tips forward to rest his head on Coran’s shoulder. Their arms wind into an embrace. “We have some fantastic kids, don’t we?”

“I’m astounded every day.” Coran draws back. “I’d best go contact Arus. I love you.”

“Love you too.” Alfor kisses Coran’s cheek, lets him go. His lips fall into a frown, deepening with every tap of his footsteps as he winds his way through the castle.

Lance jiggles his foot, heaves a sigh as he tries yet again to finish his draft. He’s preoccupied, worried about Keith. Aside from persistent morning sickness, he hasn’t been himself the last few quintants. Subdued, quiet- He’s begun isolating himself again, like he did last time he arrived from Daibazaal-

“Lancel.”

Lance looks up, rising from his chair. “Father. Can I do something for you?”

Alfor waves his hand, dismissing formality, and takes a seat by his son. “I want to talk to you about Keith. And what you’ve decided not to tell me.”

Lance’s hand freezes, releases the stylus. He turns to his father. “I beg your pardon?”

“Keith. And his pregnancy.” In hindsight, Alfor would realize that he could have used a bit more tact.

“What about it?”

“You hid this from me. Without any regard of what it might mean or how it might shift our priorities.”

“You haven’t exactly proven yourself to be trusted with the lives of children,” Lance bites, not missing a beat for even a second.

“What’s that supposed to mean-”

“That my husband is afraid of you, and what you’ll do to our children!”

Alfor licks his lips, a trait he’s passed to his son. “I regret what I have done to Keith. His fear is understandable. I would apologize, but I don’t think it would mean anything.”

“No, it wouldn’t.”

“Still, I am happy for you. I understand the joy of becoming a father-”

“Father, you didn’t even want children!”

“How can you say that?-”

“Because you waited!” Lance snaps. “You waited until you and Mom absolutely had to have us! I’m not stupid!”

"Watch your mouth!" Alfor barks. "Don't you dare disrespect your mother like that. Or me."

Lance closes his mouth with a snap, shaken by his father's sudden anger.

“Lance, we-” Alfor runs a withering hand through his shaggy hair. “We waited to have you kids because I’m fucking gay! Not because we didn’t want you. I loved your mother, dearly, but it wasn’t exactly an easy thing to father children with her. And, for the record, it wasn’t easy for her, either.”

Lance averts his gaze, sheepish. He hadn’t thought of that.

“I put my hands on your mother, not loving her or wanting her. And she knew it. And she didn’t want it either. But that is the way it is done. So no one can question it, no one can doubt your blood. We did that, to each other, for you . And your sister. So don’t you so much as insinuate that we did not want you. Understand?”

Lance gulps, nods. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry."

Sometimes, Lance still feels like a boy. It’s rare that Alfor’s ire is so well-deserved, and it’s been a long time since Lance has been on the receiving end. He waits to see if his father is finished.

“Now, I wanted to talk to you because we now find ourselves in a potentially difficult situation. Keith’s health is far from perfect. Add to that the burdens of a fetus and the current political climate, what we have uncovered- we need to think very carefully about how to protect you and your family.”

Lance nods, sits back in his chair. “What about you and dad?”

“Not important. You, Keith, and this child are our future. The lynchpin that holds this society together. Were something to happen to you, it’s unlikely our people could recover. But you know that.”

Lance gulps, forces himself to meet his father’s gaze. “Am I- Am I a bad person? All this stuff is happening and-”

“No. Oh, Lance-” Alfor takes his hand, squeezes it tight. “Lance, you are not a bad anything. The truth is, there’s never a good time to start a family, or have a child. The Galra are not the only people who hold a grudge against us, and tragedies and freak accidents happen every day. Why, as we speak, our ships are shifting an asteroid away from our planet so we aren’t destroyed in a collision.

“Let me ask you something. Did you want this child?”

“Yes.”

“Did Keith want this child?”

“Yes.”

“Then this baby will be far luckier than some, just for that. And from what I’ve seen of you, and seen of Keith, and seen of you both together… This child will be blessed indeed. Far better off than you were.”

“You think so?” Lance asks, eyes stinging.

“I know so.” Alfor smiles, squeezing the hand still in his grip before releasing it. “I can’t believe I’m going to be a grandfather twice.”

“Hopefully, you’ll be a grandfather at least four times,” Lance laughs, sniffling a little, but willing to be happy with his father now that the tension is over.

“Mnh. I know you must do your duty to Daibazaal. So perhaps I’ll be a grandfather more times than that. Your sister doesn’t want more than two children. It may give you and Keith an opportunity to indulge in a larger family, should you so desire.”

“We do currently. I’m curious to see how Keith will feel after baby number one.”

“Very true. Child-bearing is some freaky shit.”

“Seriously. I don’t envy him. I need to get back to him.” Lance sighs. “But right now I need to finish this draft. I never know how to finish off these missives.”

“Oh, that’s the easy part. Summarize what you need done, how you want it done, why it’s important. Three sentences. Then say something encouraging. And then say, ‘Many thanks, Crown Prince Lancel.’ Simple as that. Wash, rinse, repeat until your paperwork is done.”

“That’s… actually pretty useful. Thanks.” Lance finishes typing, sending it along to Adam to look over before it’s passed along to their Admiral on Arus. “I still have all this…” Lance scrolls demonstratively through his list of tasks. “To complete before thaw, but I need to get back to Keith. He’s not himself today. In a different way than normal.”

“What actually needs to be done with it?”

“It’s all crusty, outdated, discriminatory, no longer applicable, or otherwise in need of a rewrite.”

“Why don’t I get started on it and you and Adam can look over it when it’s done?”

Lance hesitates a moment, tapping his stylus on the table. He’s reluctant to entrust policy to anyone else, even Keith, but he has more than one responsibility now. Alfor can do this paperwork. He can't be a husband to Keith. He nods. “Send them to Adam and myself directly. I’ll let him know to expect it.” Lance stacks his tablets carefully on the table for someone to put away for him later. “Thank you.”

“You’re a good man, Lance.” Alfor rises with his son, smile deeply fond.

“Keith says the same thing.”

“He’s a remarkably smart young man. Now, go take care of your house.” Alfor kisses the top of his son’s head. “I’ll send dinner to your quarters if you don’t show up.”

“Thanks. I love you, Father.”

“I love you, too.”

And he actually believes it.

Keith’s not in their quarters. Yet, strangely,  Wolfy and BleepBloop are, Wolfy by the garden doors, BleepBloop glaring at the cub from the loft ladder. Has Keith actually gone outside?

Lance goes to pull his cloak from the closet, and notices that Keith’s is still hanging there. Cursing, he hurries to fasten the heavy fabric under his chin. He should give it a minute to warm up to his body temperature, but with Keith potentially out in the cold, he doesn’t want to wait. He’ll just have to hope it’s good enough.

On his way out, he snatches up Keith’s cloak.

The good thing about the frost is that he can see a set of footprints. The bad news is that those footprints are fading quickly as the frost creeps back up into the frozen moss. Speeding along, Lance squeezes through the gap in the garden wall, following the tracks into the forest. They’re getting a bit more clear, the dulled colors of the mossy forest floor showing through more clearly.

It dawns on Lance quite suddenly where he’s going, and he breaks into a run.

Panting, breath pluming, he skids to a halt outside the grotto where he learned to swim. His foot slips on an icy patch of frost, and he scrambles for a second before his hip hits the frozen ground.

Ouch.

Whatever.

Inside, Keith’s curled up on the icy pond, bundled in an enormous swathe of black fabric. The only thing Lance can see is a mess of long, black hair tumbling over the ice.

“Beloved?” The bundle twitches, curls tighter. “Beloved are you alright? Are you sick? Are you hurt?” A head shake.

Lance creeps over the frosty ground, sitting down next to his husband, throwing the red cloak over his form. Lance gently reaches out to Keith, brushing up against him, feeling what he feels-

A well of homesickness, deep, hollow, aching. Whimpering, Lance curls around his husband, hurting with him but refusing to let him go despite hot tears dripping down the side of his face.

“You know, I-” Lance gulps. “I know how you feel. A little. Remember that night at Thace and Ulaz’ place? I feel like- like I met myself that night. Like for those few vargas, I knew who I was, and I liked that person. But now… There’s no place for that person here. Here, I’m Crown Prince Lancel, and there I was Lance, and there’s no room for Lance here.

“It’s like I lost a piece of me. And lost a piece of us.”

A deep sigh, and Keith rolls over, cuddling closer in Lance’s arms. “I see him every now and then.” The man dredges up a sad smile, lays a hand to Lance’s cheek, brushes his thumb over red-tinted scales. “He’s never really gone.” A long silence, tender companionship. “I’m sorry.”

“You scared me a little bit.��

“Everything is dead here. And it’s all so quiet. Lying there by myself… All I could do was wish you were there with me. Like when we went home, and you were there all day, every day. I guess I got used to it.

“And I miss the red earth, and the afternoon heat, and the moons. I miss them so much. I-” Keith breaks off on a chirp.

“Hey, hey.” Lance pulls Keith closer, strokes his hair. “You’ll see it again, beloved. We’ll go together.”

It’s a few minutes before either speaks again, preferring instead the comfort of touch.

“Sorry, I think I’m just having a mood swing.”

“Your feelings aren’t invalid just because you’re having a mood swing.” Lance kisses his husband’s forehead. "Ready to get out of here?"

"Yes, I'm very cold."

Lance rises first, helps Keith to his feet. "I'm going to come up with a better plan for keeping you company. You're being neglected, and you haven't had anything to do lately."

"You know I can advocate for myself, right?"

"You can, but you don't."

"Right." Keith doesn't argue. He even sounds a little guilty. Lance counts it as a win.

“Where did you get that ridiculously huge cloak?”

“It was Shiro’s,” Keith murmurs. “He gave it to me as a gift when he found me. I didn’t have any clothes, so he gave it to me to cover myself with and help me stay warm. It was the first thing anyone gave me in all that time. The first kindness I’d seen.”

“And you left it behind,” Lance concludes. He knows by now that everything Keith brought with him -himself, his blade, and the clothes on his back- were taken from him upon his arrival. They never found his original clothes.

“Yeah. But now I have it again!” Keith grins. “ I was thinking, since it’s so big, we could use some of it to make a blanket for the little one?”

“Aww, Ke-eith! That’s so sweet!”

Keith hums, pleased by his mate’s enthusiasm. “The Galra used to have this philosophy that kindness doesn’t go back around, but forward. If someone does something kind for you, you’re meant to pay kindness to someone else.”

“I like that,” Lance whispers, swinging their hands back and forth between them. “You know, my father has discovered us. He’s… happy for us. I mean actually for us . Out of all the scenarios I imagined, that wasn’t one of them.”

“I’m glad you two are getting along better.” It’s a white lie, one Lance appreciates.

“He seems… excited. Like he’s really looking forward to being a grandfather. I’m really looking forward to getting to know my father, and watching him grow.”

Keith smiles. “You’ve been waiting a long time to have a relationship with Alfor, huh?”

“So long,” Lance breathes. “Obviously, I’d never allow him to do anything to endanger our child, but I really, really hope I never have to face that.”

Keith leans over to bump their shoulders together. “I hope so too.” He smiles. “You’re going to be an awesome father. I hope he gets to see that.”

“Thanks, beloved.”

The winter's silence falls around them, but it's not quite so crushing, so lonely anymore. There's two sets of footsteps, the warmth of a second body.

“Lance?”

“Yes?”

“I actually do miss Daibazaal. And how we were when we were there.”

“Me too. We’ll go again. As soon as we can.” Lance throws his arm around Keith’s shoulders after the squeeze back through the garden wall. “After all, little one’s gonna have to see where their daddy came from, right?”

“Definitely. I want them to be proud of what they are, Lance.”

“Absolutely. Hybrid children are the future. And we get to create that. It’s gonna be beautiful. I can’t wait to see it.”

“I can’t wait to share it with you,” Keith whispers, gazing at his smiling mate.

It’s time for the turning of the age.