#** RELIEVE curse you mobile

[shikai-the-storyteller]

I'm so glad I like my boss and we get along well and I LOVE that she liked to share petty complaints and listens to mine. Genuinely love when people are like "Hell yeah, complaints are welcomed and ENCOURAGED!"

[thewisecheerio]

Elden Ring and Disability

Elden Ring is filled with disabled characters. What I love about the specific way that Elden Ring uses disability, though, is that there is almost always a lore-compliant accommodation provided to the disabled character. This world filled with magic doesn't erase disability, but rather finds magical and lore-compliant ways of accommodating it, much like Star Trek:

Here is some of the disability representation within Elden Ring.

First Generation Albinaurics

First generation albinaurics are synthetic humanoids. Their legs do not function normally, so they are unable to locomote by walking. In the worst cases where no accommodations are provided, we see them crawling to move. But we get two really cool examples of ways to accommodate this disability:

First, we have Latenna the Albinauric. Normally when you summon her as a spirit ash, she functions as a static archer due to the state of her legs. However, if you summon her near a wolf, she will climb onto the wolf and ride it around to avoid enemy attacks and even gains a new attack (freezing mist) with the help of her ride. This puts the onus on you, the player, to make sure that you summon her under accommodating circumstances if you want her to be able to move. And of course, you could also choose not to, accepting her disabled self as-is as a perfectly great battle companion.

You can see a video of the wolf companion in action here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=st6vGIpsHLs

Second, we have Commander Gaius. Gaius is also a first generation albinauric with non-functional legs. But you'd almost never know without reading his lore or looking closely at his model, because is accommodated. He rides his Battle Tank Boar into your fight and has absolutely no problem wiping the floor with your sorry ass.

In both cases, a support animal functioning as a mobility aid allows the first generation albinaurics to locomote.

Malenia, Blade of Miquella

Malenia is missing some limbs due to the Scarlet Rot infection she was cursed with at birth rotting. She is also blind due to the sickness taking her sight. However, Malenia is still able to fight you (and win and win and win and win and...). There are two accommodations at play, the first of which is canon and the second of which is a canon-compliant fanon.

The first is the prosthetics made by the Shaded Castle. Malenia's iconic blade is physically attached to her arm prosthetic, allowing her to wield it in battle regardless of the lack of (natural) limb.

Fun fact: this is based on a real, historical practice with armor where old armor was recycled into prosthetics! There was even a mercenary famed for using a prosthetic limb to hold his sword after an accident that damaged his arm. You can learn more here (timestamp 16:58): https://youtu.be/PJwNjOvn-Ow?t=1018

The second accommodation that allows Malenia to be battle-functional is the water in her battleground. Because she is blind, she can listen for the player character's movement in the water, responding in a Daredevil-esque way. This is probably helped by the fact that her blade instructor--the blind swordsman named in the Blue Dancer Charm--was also blind and likely taught her how to accommodate that disability.

Millicent

Like her mother Malenia, Millicent is also afflicted by the Scarlet Rot. We find her alone and largely non-functional in the Church of the Plague at the beginning of her questline, writhing in pain. We then bring her the Unalloyed Needle, which keeps the Scarlet Rot at bay, relieving pain and allowing her to travel once more. Toward the end of her questline, Millicent removes the needle, which brings the Rot back in full force and ends her life.

In this way, the Unalloyed Needle functions as a treatment regimen for a chronic illness. It does not cure her, but it keeps the illness in check well enough for her to function.

The fact that Millicent chooses to remove the needle at the end of her quest is Important! Disabled people aren't under any obligation to "meet their potential" or continue treatment because it is convenient for others; if they wish to stop their treatment—even to accept palliative care—that is their right. Anything less disrespects their bodily autonomy and choice to make their own decisions. The fact that we get this representation in Millicent, who actively chooses against continuing her treatment after a certain point, is Good and Important.

And of course, we also provide Millicent with a prosthetic from the Shaded Castle, same as her mother. Once properly accommodated in this way, she can fight by your side as an NPC summon.

Messmer the Impaler

A lot of people speculate that Messmer is blind. This is because his left eye is (as far as we know) permanently shut, while his right eye appears to be a grace-filled synthetic seal rather than an eyeball. It's entirely possible that the grace seal does allow vision, but there are a couple of reasons to consider why it might not:

1) When we first arrive, Messmer is sitting in the dark. You could interpret this as being a Sad, Broody, Wet Blanket (which he is), or you could interpret this as evidence that things like light and dark are of less consequence to him than to a sighted person. Or, you know, both. A Sad, Broody, Blind, Wet Blanket.

2) Shortly after he lights candles--probably for your benefit--he sends one of his snakes into your face. He is able to tell from what the snake sees that you are Tarnished and comments on it. We can tell this means he can see what the snake sees, because he would have to figure this out from looking at your eyes and only the snake is close enough to do so.

This suggests that the snakes function as a remote viewing aid, providing a sight accommodation. And yes, again you could choose to interpret the snakes as existing in addition to a sighted right eye, but it is still interesting to consider what they mean if they are simply Support Noodles.

Ranni and Melina

There is a syndrome in our world called Locked-In Syndrome, in which paralysis prevents the entire body from moving with (usually) the sole exception of the eyes. As a consequence, the disabled person is unable to affect the physical world without help due to an inability to physically interact with the world around them.

Ranni and Melina have a similar situation going on, but with different ways of dealing with it. They are both disembodied spirits, having lost their physical bodies.

Ranni chooses to deal with the problem by incarnating herself into a doll's body at least twice: once as the doll's body we spend most of her quest interacting with, and later as a tiny actual-doll-sized doll that the player can interact with. Essentially, she has given herself a prosthetic that allows her to interact with the physical world once more.

Meanwhile, Melina goes a different route. Rather than incarnate physically, Melina requests that the player character help her reach her goal--the foot of the Erdtree, and then the Forge. In this case, we provide the physical support necessary for Melina to interact with the world, much as support workers do for those unable to care for themselves.

Goldmask

Goldmask never speaks to us in words. Rather, he communicates largely via physical movements. Brother Corhyn, a pupil of Goldmask, refers to his master's communication as "the movement of his finger". When Goldmask stops his movements, Corhyn reacts with distress, "I'm a little shaken since the master ceased his movements." He then proceeds to translate what the movements meant up to that point for us.

The fact that Corhyn is distressed at the master's lack of further communication after his movements cease suggests that this is his *only* mode of communication with him.

This is entirely a canon-compliant headcanon, but I like to believe that this means Goldmask uses sign language that Corhyn is learning to interpret in order to communicate with him. Additionally, the fact that we cannot necessarily interpret it ourselves and must rely on Corhyn to translate means that Corhyn is also acting as a support worker by being Goldmask's translator.

And yes, I think this is largely to poke fun at the Gesture system in the game, but it's also fun disability representation!

This list isn't exhaustive. There are yet other characters that either are disabled or could be easily argued to be so, like Roderika (grief and/or PTSD, given a space to heal and process), Rennala (depression and/or grief, NOT accommodated AFAICT), and Hyetta (blind, accommodated with...uh..."treatments"). But the fact that this post is already over 1400 words and has yet to touch upon all of the disability representation in the game just shows you how much there is.

[zekedms]

Would you like to be angrier about Tumblr's mobile experience but also temporarily relieved? Of course you would, come with me.

So as a refresher here's what a video looks like as you come across it on your dash:

Which is fine until you click it and the curse appears, playing the video immediately without a pause button and without 3/4 of the fucking video

But wait, what did i just find on accident?

The REAL VIDEO PLAYER. If you go to the post itself by counterintuitively hitting the white space next to the name you get...

A functional user experience which has been hidden for no fucking reason whatsoever!

I haven't tested if screen rotation works again this way, but it's still a damn sight better.

Still gotta fix the fucking image viewer though.

[em1e]

in life & death | shin's death

⿻ mini series ft. you dating shinichiro and whatever chaos that comes from that !! ✕ this is no longer haha funny. angst, character death, sorry!! ♡ series m.list

“hey it's (y/n), leave a message.” 

“hey, (y/n) . . . um, listen, i gotta talk to ya about something. give me a call back when you can. thanks, bye.” 

wakasa chews at his lip as he shakes his head at benkei, unable to get through to you on your mobile. 

“they’re prob’ly at work. not sure how they’ll take it.” 

it was almost relieving, you not answering, in some way. gave them time to think about how to break the news to you, time to plan and let you down easy - even though there was nothing easy about what they had to tell. 

his lip is bleeding, he realizes when a metallic taste flows freely into his mouth. familiar and unwelcome. 

“maybe i should go alone.” wakasa suggests, “don’t wanna overwhelm ‘em with too many people or anythi-” 

his phone ringing cuts him off, words dying on his lips as he glances at the caller id. 

(y/n) (l/n) 

he sucks in a breath and turns away from his friend, clicking the answer button. 

“hello?” 

“hey waka, what’s up? you called me?” 

“yeah. hey, um, are you busy? there’s somethin’ i gotta tell you but it’s gotta be in person.” 

there’s shuffling on your end, the sound of something falling followed by your cursing. “yeah, yeah. i’m at work but i leave in like fifteen. do you wanna meet me here? shin was supposed to pick me up but he hasn’t answered my calls.” you mumble something about him maybe being mad at you, but you don’t know what for. 

wakasa clears his throat, lip finding itself between his teeth again, “yeah, no, for sure. i can get you.” 

“have you talked to shin? he probably tells you more than he tells me - what? i’m leaving soon, i can’t take another table. you only have one anyways, what’s the problem?” there’s more shuffling on your end, then you sigh, “sorry waka, i have to go. see you in a bit?” 

“yeah, i’ll see you.” 

you hang up. wakasa has to take a breath to steady himself, benkei’s hand finding itself on his shoulder doing less to comfort him and more to make him feel closed in. still, he knows it comes from a good place, and he doesn’t have it in him to push it off until he has to leave to pick you up in a timely manner. 

you’re taking the bill from a table when he comes in, offering a small wave as he sets himself at the bar of the diner, going to the register and doing whatever it is you need to to get their change back to them with practiced ease. when you come back to him, untying your apron and folding it neatly as you write down your hours and do whatever other leaving-things you need to, you hum. 

“you want anything before we go? i can make you something real quick or get you a drink?” 

“nah, ‘m fine.” he waves off easily, but you must see how tired he is, because you frown and go into the back anyways and return with two cups of coffee. he makes a noise of disagreement, low in the back of his throat, but he takes the paper cup as you offer it anyways. 

as you leave the diner, make your way to his bike, he stops in his tracks. 

“shin’s passed away, (y/n).” 

you were in the middle of trying to shove your apron into your bag, not wanting to lose it again to the wind while riding the bike, when you pause to stare at him. 

“what?” 

“he was killed last night,” he clarifies further, taking a step forward when your hands start to shake and your lip quivers, cup falling from your fingertips. 

“that’s not funny, wakasa,” you whisper, shoving at his shoulder when he’s close enough in your reach, “take me to his shop, i want to talk to him.” 

“he’s not there, (y/n). not there, not at their house, not in his room-,” his voice breaks off as he looks away, lip finding itself abused between his teeth again. “he’s gone.” 

“he’s not.” you’re whispering still, shoving at his shoulders another time because this is just some cruel joke he’s made you victim of, something unfunny and mean and not at all like how wakasa would really treat you because you’re friends, but it’s the only explanation. because what he’s telling you just can’t be true, “i talked to him yesterday, he’s not.” 

he grabs your wrists so you stop pushing him, leveling his face evenly with your own, and for once wakasa hate’s how straightforward he is. hates how there was no way to slowly break this to you. hates how shinichiro isn’t here to comfort you because he’s the reason you’re crying. 

“he’s gone. i can take you wherever you want to look for him, but it won't matter because he’s dead, (y/n), you have to understand that.” wakasa’s voice almost sounds like he’s begging you to believe him.

the first tear that falls down your cheeks is timed perfectly with your knees buckling, and wakasa is there to catch you. to keep you upright in his embrace while he whispers apology after apology as if he’s at fault for this. 

he stays holding you like that for what feels like hours. until your sobs breakdown to something less, until you're able to stand on your own shaky legs and wipe at your face, offering your own small apology for getting his shirt soaked. 

“can we go to theirs?” your voice is small as you ask, hoarse from crying, “i want to check on emma and mikey and their grandpa.” 

“of course.” he doesn’t recognize his own voice as he speaks, much softer to his own surprise, “i can take you home after.” 

you only nod, climbing onto his bike and scooting back so he has space to sit in front of you. 

and as he drives you to the sano's residence, there is no comfort in the way one of his hands gently pats your own wrapped at his stomach.

[thepenultimateword]

Monstrous Part 2

Part 1

CW: Experimentation, injuries

Everything hurt. A thousand needles under the surface of Hero's skin, plunging deeper and deeper, into muscle, organs, bone.

She shrieked, surging against the many sets of hands pinning her to the gurney. Beakers and test tubes shattered; one of the monitors began to smoke. Hero caught a glimpse of hands over ears and the mess of blood and feathers blanketing the floor before being shoved back cheek first into the table.

"Where's my sedative?" shouted Dr. Penn. His familiar, harsh hands had Hero by the scruff of her neck, making her dizzy with the almost strangling pressure.

"I need stitches!" cried another voice.

"Shut up, Lancaster!" Penn barked. " You're the one at fault! Sedative then serum! How many times do I have to say it?"

"That thing attacked me!" Lancaster cried, voice as sharp as his blood on the otherwise sterile air.

A rush of rage surged through Hero's burning body, and she flapped her wings violently, breaking a few of her captors' hold.

"Will somebody bind those things down!" Penn said.

Another set of hands forced her wings into an expert fold, tearing loose a few feathers along the way, then wrapped the binding strap so tight it ached. "We should just cut the things off," the new scientist said. Dr. Sunfield. Hero shuddered involuntarily. The woman's threats were never empty.

"Yeah? And then how is she supposed to get around?" Penn snarled. "The bus? We all agreed on a mobility element."

Sunfield gave the restraints an unnecessary tug, causing Hero to shriek. "They weren't supposed to get so big. She looks like a blasted vulture."

"They're only going to get bigger. The rest of her too. Her growth plates are still showing on the x-rays."

Sunfield cursed. "This is a disaster."

"At least she's been useful data."

Something sharp and stinging plunged into Hero's neck, followed by a nauseating chill that washed from head to toe. The sedative at last. She wasn't sure whether to be scared or relieved. The pain would finally stop, but what else would they poke her with while she was under? The scientists loosened their grip, and she took advantage of that to swing her claws toward Penn's voice. Her limbs were already more sluggish than she'd realized. The doctor caught her wrist, giving her fingers a bone-cracking squeeze before stroking her limpening knuckles with his thumb. His other hand tucked her tangled hair behind her ears. "Besides, we were asked to give the city something to get rid of Supervillain, and that's what we did. She may be monstrous, but a monstrous masterpiece nonetheless."

"The city can't market monstrous. There's backlash from the citizens every day, and that cuts into our funding."

"Don't worry." Penn's voice seemed to slow and stretch, and he dropped Hero's arm with a dull thud. "The next ones will be heroes the city can trust."

Hero shot upright. A sharp pain shot through both temples, and the melty, slanted surroundings immediately slumped her back onto her elbows. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited for her head to stop feeling to heavy for her neck.

"Oh! You're awake," came a drawling masculine voice. It sounded roaring. "How do you feel?"

Hero winced. "Floaty." She dared crack her eyes and squinted around the room. Shelves and shelves of alcohol and jarred olives glistened in the weak orange light. A faint electric buzz resonating from the metal door on the wall adjacent hinted at a refrigerated room. She rose slower this time, hoisting her aching wings shut and swinging her legs over the side of the rickety cot.

"Wait, wait! Don't pop your stitches; they're still fresh!"

A figure leaped up from the ground at the cot's head, and Hero slowly recalled his tangled hair and lean stature.

"Where am I?" she demanded, more threat than question.

The man held out his hands, the one she’d clawed now wrapped in bandages. Once again, he didn’t seem particularly put off by her behavior.

"Backroom at Foghorn. It’s a bar. Particularly for upstanding citizens like myself. People are always crashing here when they get into scraps. They have more medical supplies than my place. Better pain medication. That's probably what's making you feel floaty."

“You kidnapped me,” Hero snarled.

The man shrugged, a motion almost like rolling his shoulders, like brushing her off and getting ready to stand his ground all in one. “I hate to argue with a lady who could probably turn me inside out, but you did pass out in the middle of the street. So any 'kidnapping' on my part was really nothing more than a rescue effort."

Hero gave the man a hard look. Rescue effort? She wasn't buying that. People didn't rescue things like her. Not without a ten-foot pole. And this guy didn't look like the trimmed poodles the labs or the agency usually sent to spy on her.

“What’s your motive?"

“No motive," the man said. "I was in the area.”

“You said we’ve met?”

The man grinned whipping a business card from the inside pocket of his shirt and rolling it over his knuckles and--with a bowing flourish-- into her hand. “Villain. You killed my old boss.”

She blinked at the unimpressive piece of cardstock, blank but for a nicely typed name and a phone number. His words sank in slowly.

Ah. A criminal. And one of Supervillain's mess. She'd taken out all the big players, so he must have been telling the truth about being in the background.

“You want revenge then?” she said. That made more sense. Watching her die in the street would have meant nothing to him. He had to save her and break her himself. Inflict the same pain she inflicted on--

“No, we threw a nice little party after you left." Villain plopped crisscross at her feet. He rested his cheek in his hand and stared casually up at her. "Honestly, the boss was suffocating, but what can you expect from someone with a chokehold on your life."

"You...wanted me to kill him?"

"You mean did we want rid of the giant gun at our heads?"

Hero bristled a little at the sarcasm. What did she know about villainous politics? She was just given a problem, and she got rid of it.

"With Supervillain it was black or white," Villain continued. "Ally or enemy. And you did not want to be an enemy. So ally it was. Pawn is closer to the truth. No, we can finally spread our wings--if you'll excuse the analogy--without being seen as competition."

He leaned in conspiratorially.

"If I may be so bold, I think I've had a little crush since the moment I saw you."

Hero slammed the cot against the wall with a metallic crash as she stood, looming darkly over Villain's bony curled-up frame.

"Shut up."

Villain's brow knit together. "Of course, I don't expect anything from that confession, I simply wanted to say the way you just ripped into him was fantastic. And your voice. That precision! You were--"

"Shut. Up."

This time Villain did flinch. Hero took some satisfaction from that. It was a little frightening when the tired and true defenses didn’t work.

“I can take a beating. They make jabs about me every day on television, and that's fine. But I will not be made fun of. I won't be the butt of your sick, simpering jokes. Or are you trying to manipulate me? You think you can flatter me, and I'll fall over myself to help you? I am not an idiot."

Villain opened his mouth, and Hero braced herself for more lies. Maybe her guard showed on her face because slowly he shut it again, fixing her in a steady hazelnut stare. Eventually, he tipped his chin at her. "I'll get some ice for that wing."

Hero turned her head over her shoulder. The aching wing had begun sliding back toward the floor. She attempted to lift it against her back again but a sharp electric pain stopped her short.

"Here." Villain touched her lightly on the shoulder, drawing her out of her wince. He held out a frozen pack of fries from the refrigerator room. “It’s not much, but better than nothing.”

Hero glared but snatched the pack from his hand. The cot creaked as she dropped back on the edge and slowly extended her wings to the dusty concrete. Her feathers pulled a little against the dried grime, and she had to strain to press the cold to the aching joint where wing connected to back, but it did help.

Villain's eyes still didn't stray away; they actually looked more focused glued to her wings. What was his deal?

"Your wings," he said slowly. "Does it bother you... I mean...would you like something to clean them with?"

Hero glanced at greasy, blackened ends, dredged with oil and refuse. She fought down a grimace. Yes, it bothered her. It was sticky and crusted and uncomfortable, but it wasn't the first time she'd dealt with this sort of discomfort. At least it wasn't blood.

"I'm used to it," Hero grumbled. "They're always hard to keep clean."

"Can't you get them wet?"

What was with all the questions? If he really had no motive, why didn't he leave already?

"Yes... But most showers aren't exactly big enough for a full wingspan. And public shower rooms are not an option when you look like this." She gestured at herself brusquely. "The labs have a sanitizing room when I really need it."

Villain nodded slowly.

“I had to do the stitches to save you," he said. "But I didn’t want to touch you any more than I had to without permission. But if it's bothering you, and if you don't mind... You can tell me if it's too uncomfortable but..." He pointed to the dirty wing. "May I?”

Hero's first impulse was to blow up again. To shout a resounding no and ask what his real intentions were. Maybe he really was a spy, just biding his time before he incapacitated her. It was certainly up Sunfield's ally to force the labs' hand at retiring her. But then again, he could have done that when she was knocked out.

“Whatever.” Hero turned to the side so the grimy wing drooped more fully on the floor.

Villain hopped to his feet a little too giddily. "Don't move, I'll be right back." He skirted past the storage shelves and pushed out into the business side of the building, a sliver of the loud chatter and clinking glasses slipping inside before the door swung shut again.

Hero closed her eyes for a moment and imagined the bustle going on just on the other side of that wall. It was probably the closest she had ever gotten to a place like this, at least, without crashing it. How would they react if she were to step out? Would they leave? Would they try to finish her off?

Another bit of cacophony escaped through the swinging door.

"Ooookay!" Villain called. He set a large bowl of soapy water and clean washcloth on the ground and settled down beside it. As he outstretched his hands, he hesitated. "You're sure? You're not going to claw me to death or anything like that?"

"I only claw criminals who cause me problems," Hero said. "So you're safe. For now."

"Goody," Villain grinned. He carefully dragged the wing into his lap, squeezed the excess water from the washcloth, and gently got to work on the worst patch or street gunk.

Hero looked straight ahead.

Warm water trickled between her feathers, triggering a shudder that set each one on end. She fought the urge to close her eyes against the gentle rake of his fingers. She hadn’t known someone could touch her without pulling or prodding.

"Ok?"

"Mm," Hero grunted with a short nod. This wasn't just a quick swipe of the rag; he was sifting through each and every feather. A cleaning like this, by hand, could take hours. Hero never signed up for that. She didn't have that time. But for now--she fought another shiver--it was fine.

“I wasn’t making fun of you earlier,” Villain said quietly, dunking the rag into the bowl again. “I’ll shut up about it if you want me to, but I hate there being a misunderstanding. I really do think you’re beautiful. Like an angel.”

“More like a demon," Hero scoffed. Maybe the doctors had been right all those years ago. She was a disaster. Nothing like the pretty heroes in the limelight these days. She was only good for slaughter, and she hadn’t even done that right tonight. The agency would be mad when they found out her target got away, and her injured in the process.

“I don’t think so." Villain lifted a chunk of feathers with the back of his hand and wiped gingerly at the undersides. "Maybe everyone is just too narrow. And you need the space to fly."

Hero snorted. "Wooow, clever that one. Take you long to think it up?"

"As a matter of fact, it came right off the top of my head. I’m full of clever thoughts. With Supervillain gone, I’m going to use them for myself. Soon enough, I won’t be able to get off your radar even if I try.”

“And you’re excited about that?” Hero finally looked back him. He looked far too pleased with himself. “You know if I’m the one after you it usually means death, right?”

"Well…it would be nice to see you. Maybe you’ll change your mind. Or maybe I’ll escape.”

Hero crooked a disbelieving smile. “Not likely.” She abruptly withdrew her wing, pulling the numbed joint in so it folded properly against her back. As she stood and took a couple steps a new wave of dizziness rocked the floor but she shook it away. “Well, wing’s feeling better. I’m leaving."

“What?” Villain scrambled to his feet. “You shouldn't be flying on a sprain. Besides, there're all sorts of creeps ‘round these parts when it’s dark. You should stay here at least til sun up.”

"Creepier than you?"

“Ow, you don’t want to hurt my feelings, do you?”

“I’m pretty sure I can handle it.” Hero took a few more dizzying steps toward the door, but Villain jumped in front of her, arms spread.

“You have fresh stitches; moving around to much will be a bloody mess. That means no fighting. I forbid it.”

Hero rolled her eyes. “Well if a complete stranger says so, I guess I better listen.” She tried to dodge around Villain, but he echoed her steps with only a quarter of the sway.

“You’re not an idiot. You know I’m right. You shouldn’t fight in your condition, and if you go outside it will end in a fight.”

Hero hesitated, and Villain took the opportunity to press on.

“I might have said we appreciated what you did, but not everyone likes you like I do. So just a few more hours. When it’s light, it’ll be clear to go.”

Hero stared into his determined eyes. Really, what was his deal? She didn't even know him, so why did he care so much? Especially when he should see her as an enemy. But...he was right. She didn't really know where she was, and flying on this wing did not seem like the greatest idea. And she'd had enough scrapping for one night. Plus, the room would not stop tilting.

"Fine." She stormed back to the cot and rolled onto her side, cramming her wings against the wall behind her. If what Villain said was true, she didn't trust turning her back to the door. "I'll wait until sun up. And then what?"

"I'll escort you."

"Suit yourself." Hero squeezed her eyes shut, effectively ending the conversation. After a moment, she heard the rustle of Villain settle back down at the head of the bed.

She only meant to close her eyes for a moment. Just until Villain stopped looking at her. But before she knew it, she was sinking into the dark folds of sleep.

Master Taglist:

@moss-tombstone @crazytwentythrees @just-1-lonely-person @the-vagabond-nun @willow-trees-are-beautiful @cocoasprite @insanedreamer7905 @valiantlytransparentwhispers @whovian378 @watercolorfreckles @thebluepolarbear @yulanlavender @kitsunesakii @deflated-bouncingball @lem-hhn @office-plant-in-a-trenchcoat @ghostfacepepper @pigeonwhumps @demonictumble @inkbirdie @vuvulia @bouncyartist @lunatic-moss-studio @breilobrealdi @freefallingup13 @i-am-a-story-goblin @ryunniez @rainy-knights-of-villany @distractedlydistracted @saspas-corner @echoednonny @perilous-dreamer @blood-enthusiast @randomfixation @alexkolax @pksnowie @blessupblessup @wolfeyedwitch @thedeepvoidinmyheart @cornflower-cowboy @bestblob @a-chaotic-gremlin @espresso-depresso-system @prompt-fills-and-writing-spills @paleassprince @takingawildbreath @yindonessy @psychiclibrariesquotestoad @harpycartoons @pickleking8 @urmyhopeeee @goldenflame2516 @tobeornottobeateacher @talesofurbania1 @sweetsigyn @girl-of-the-sea-and-stars @kurai-hono-blog

[emeritus-fuckers]

I have only been having the WORST possible days at work recently. I would just love some pampering hcs for whichever ghouls you choose, please

Can you tell I’m fond of three specific ghouls? -Death

On that note I seem to have my favourites too XD - Nyx

Ghouls Pampering You

Alpha

He knows you’re having a hard day at work when he walks in and sees you hunched over your desk cursing at paperwork.

Once you get off shift you walk into his room to fresh sheets on the bed, rose petals across the floor, calming incense lit around his room and the fire ghoul waiting in an arm chair.

He immediately comes to greet you, guiding you to the chair across from his and revealing your favourite meal. Smiling warmly at you.

“You looked stressed when I poked my head in earlier. I thought this might help?”

He made sure you got a glass of wine and were comfortable as you ate, guiding you to the bed after you had finished.

Little known fact about Alpha: he took a massage course once. He’s very good at relieving stress.

He helped you undress before getting your favourite scented oil, massaging out the knots and kinks in your muscles. All of your muscles.

He doesn’t stop until you’re a puddle of very content partner. Then he’ll curl up to you to keep you warm all night.

Ifrit

He’s well aware the ministry is a very hard place to work, especially when you’re in the kitchens feeding everyone with special requests, allergies and more.

So when you skip dinner to get away from the kitchens and relax, Ifrit is waiting with a set of car keys and a smile. Telling you to shower so he can drive you somewhere.

Even though you’re pretty sure he has no licence, it gets you further away from the kitchens.

He takes you to your favourite spot to stargaze, a picnic waiting with all your favourite finger foods.

You both spend hours under the stars, just watching them.

He then takes you to see a screening of your favourite movie at a theatre that does food themed around the movie.

As well as the lovely little dates, you also get several gift cards for spas and other stores you love going to. So you can treat yourself on your newly acquired days off tomorrow.

Ifrit has some methods of getting you off shift occasionally. He’ll never tell.

Zephyr

Zephyr can’t spoil you as extravagantly as other ghouls can. Mobility issues and all.

Though he absolutely gives it his all.

You get a ride on his lap in his wheelchair from whichever part of the ministry you work in. The dork pretending like he’s taking you on a tour.

“And on your left you will see the shortest Papa the ministry has ever seen-“

Once back in your room (or his. Depends on their mood.) he’ll get you settled on the couch with a glass of your beverage of choice and grab a set of sheet music.

They might not be able to stand, but they can still play!

You get hours of a private concert, ranging from songs they played on stage to others he loves to play. Including your favourite song on the piano.

Though eventually, he curls up on the couch with you to spoil you with kisses and compliments.

Especially if they notice you frowning at the mirror more lately. Gotta hype you back up.

Zephyr spoils you rotten with sweet words and music, not that you want it any other way of course.

Swiss

Swiss cares you up a winding spiral staircase. At the top there is a wooden door, paint flaking off it. It creaks loudly as xey push it open. You expect some cobwebbed room and look at the ghoul confused. But when you look back at what is actually in front of you, you gasp.

"I found this place years ago, no one used it so I kinda made it my little hiding place." He says with one of his famous grins. He gently puts you down and kisses you on the cheek. "perfect place to pamper you, my gorgeous one"

You slump down on the comfy sofa with cushions scattered over it and a blanket folded at the end. There is a soft crackle, you look across to see a small log burning stove, glass door on it so you can see the flames dancing within.

Xey open a cupboard and pulls out an armful of your favourite snacks and places them on the coffee table, then xey go back and take out your favourite drinks.

He sits next to you and massages your shoulders, this guy just knows how to get all then tension out.

Accross from you is a window through which you can see the sun setting over the ministry gardens, it's beautiful. You gaze at all the stunning colours while snuggled in Swiss's arms.

He puts his vape on the table for both of you to use whenever you want.

Lots of kisses, lots of cuddles, anything and everything you want he will do for you. It's your evening and he wants to pamper you in every way possible.

Sodo

You woke up that morning with dark circles under your eyes and you couldn't stop yawning. Sodo knew, you needed a break. He gently takes your hand and leads you back to bed. He then tells you to lie back down, any arguement and he'll pick you up and place you in bed. Then he'll tuck you in with a kiss to your forhead.

He says he'll be right back and is gone, but only for 10 mins before returning and placing a bag of stuff on the bed. After a loving bit to your arm then starts pulling stuff out of the bag.

Facemaks, candles, your favourite chocolate, your favourite ice cream and a whole load of films (the Ministry still has a lot of DVDs lying around).

He's a little worried about you looking so tired so he just went for everything.

He puts your favourite film on and lies down on top of you and nuzzles your into your neck.

You pull him into a tight cuddle and he nuzzles you again while making happy Ghoulish noises.

Sodo makes sure that all the chores are done for that day, there is nothing for you to do except to relax.

Plays his guitar for you, he even wrote a riff for you. It's his way of trying to show you his love

Aether

Big arms. Big tits. Big hugs.

I have issues.

But yeah, Aether is a goofy, cuddly motherfucker.

So he starts by pretty much tackling you into a hug and carrying you to bed like a princess.

If you allow him to, he will lovingly rail you into the next day and then organize the most hilariously girly sleepover.

You do ridiculous make-up on ach other.

Nails, too. His are hot barbie pink.

He'll literally let you bleach and dye his hair if you ask.

(He looks really cool in dark blue and purple, by the way.)

You try to watch a movie, but end up in a snack war.

And then you both laugh it out as you cuddle.

Cumulus

She just wants to pamper you anyway, but today was extra special. She could see you had a very busy week and today was going to be a total day off.

She cooked your favourite meal for you. Before she started cooking she made sure you were comfortable on the sofa.

She wrapped you in blankets and put your favourite TV show on.

After you've eaten the amazing meal she'll hold you close and hum softly.

She showers you in kisses and makes sure your every need is met.

She'll encourage you to rest your head on her thigh while she strokes your hair.

You'll also end up having a mini spa day, massages (she gives really good ones), facemasks and she paints your nails for you. She's been practicing and she can now do some pretty awesome designs on your nails.

~

Alpha, Ifrit and Zephyr written by Death.

Swiss, Sodo and Cumulus written by Nyx.

Aether written by Nosferatu.

Taglist: @charlie-is-a-menace @copias-fluffy-asscheeks @randodummy @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @calliedion-dungeon @randominstake @callmeicaro @nuntia @dio-niisio @mamacarlyle @mybotanicaldemise @igodownjustlikeholymary @natoncesaid @bloodmoon-bites

[ashprince-of-bel-air]

Reading by firelight.

AN: a short Gale oneshot, I typed this on mobile so please forgive any errors or formatting.

Summary: Gale watches Tav read by the fire.

The sun was setting softly over the camp, casting a warm orange glow over the horizon. This had always been Gales favourite time of the day. The cool afternoon breeze sweeping through the camp as he again started to prepare supper over the campfire. It wasn't the silence that he enjoyed, as the rest of his campmates retired to their tents for a while, to rest their battle weary bodies, it was the fact he could watch Tav. Their afternoon ritual of sitting by the campfire after battle, engrossed in a large tome left him utterly speechless. The way the light from the fire flickered against their soft skin, still a little grimy from the days adventure, causing shadows to dance over their visage was like a drug to him; more often than not he had to remind himself to focus on making sure the stew in the pot didn't over boil or burn. He never had a problem serving perfect meals when he first joined the delightfully weird selection of comrades he now had, but now the amount of spoiled food was becoming suspicious to the group as they all tried to create conspiracies surrounding this new phenomenon. The current favourite conspiracy coming from Astarion claiming "Maybe Gale is going senile in his old age, either that or the tadpole has helped itself to a few two many braincells". Wyll was ever the gentleman and always suggested that the days adventuring were getting harder, that it wasn't fair to put such undue pressure on him. Lae'zel would just tut at the rest of the camp and eat whatever was given to her, warriors were not afforded the constant luxury of exquisite food.

Gale would look longingly at Tav as they read, they were completely absorbed with their book every night so he wasn't scared of being caught, he'd imagine their long slender fingers stroking against his skin softly as he watched Tav gently stroke the pages of the book many a night, yearning to feel their delicate touch along his body and tangled in his hair, wanting to know what it would feel like for Tav to massage away his aches at the end of a long day or even relieve his frustrations.

Every night he would tell himself mentally "Come on Gale, go talk to them, you don't shut up any other time." He would try to gear himself up, he'd even thought of a good pick up line to use, yet in every scenario he thought up, it just didn't come out right, mentally cursing Astarion and his charm for raising the bar impossibly high; jealous of the way the pale elf could seemingly flirt and seduce with ease.

"Hey Tav, I'm an open book too... and you can read me any time you like." Gale shuddered at the thought of him actually trying to say that, in each made up scenario he always came across as awkward and stuttering, then Tav would look at him like he was a creep. Tonight, he told himself that he actually would talk to them, it didn't matter what it was about, hells he would talk about crop rotation or the rising 'wizarding insurance' prices in Waterdeep, he just needed to talk to them. He could talk to them out in the road but could never bring himself to speak when it was just him and Tav alone. For a man who had a propensity towards verbosity, he was always rendered speechless when alone with them.

Gale checked the cooking stew, making sure it was simmering and wouldn't over boil again, for what would be the 5th time in a fortnight. He ran his now clammy hands through his hair in the hopes to make himself more presentable, although, considering he hadn't had chance to change from his grubby blood stained robe, he didn't think Tav would be offended if his hair was a little messy. His mouth began to open and form words as he stepped towards you until Astarion burst out of his tent and called out.

"Mmm Darling." His voice as it's usual delicate purr. "Something smells delicious." Astarion takes a seat by Tav, their shoulders and knees touching in an overly friendly manner, his eyes flitting between their face and their neck."and I definitely don't mean the food." Astarions voice dropped into a lower more lustful purr as he admired Tav's long and slender neck.

Gale was stopped dead in his tracks by the interaction and stepped back towards the pot of stew, his head slumped down in disappointment, watching through a contemptuous gaze as Tav closed their book and began chatting energetically with Astarion. "It's always that damned vampire" Gale cursed to himself, wondering jokingly if he could find a pointy stick in the woods to acquainte Astarion with. He shook his head to clear away those thoughts, tonight was not his time, but maybe tomorrow it could be. "No, it would be." He told himself sternly. He promised himself that he would speak to Tav tomorrow. But for now, he would have the memory of their soft and slender hands to take back to his tent with him, it was always a welcome thought on these lonely nights, forever wishing he had more than his imagination.

[isabelldrabbles]

Peter Parker x Reader

Imagine: Peter is supposed to walk you home but is late...

warnings: fluff

———

Peter trotted along the streets of his neighbourhood. He noticed that dusk was slowly setting in and the streets were filling up with eerie figures. Nervously, he played with the straps of his school bag and increased his walking speed. Today, the very evening he was going to walk you home from the supermarket (where you always work after school), his spidey senses went haywire. 

The young man was still about five blocks away from your workplace, when suddenly a masked giant passed him by. Peter sighed and disappeared into a side alley to put on his suit and deal with what's happening all around him. 

———

You glance nervously at your wristwatch. It was now half an hour after the end of your shift. Peter had promised to be here ten minutes before closing time. You rummage in your pocket for your mobile phone to leave him another voice message on the answering machine, which were slowly becoming desperate. 

You walk through the shop one more time, check the staff rooms for cleanliness and the work schedule for the coming weekend. All done. You finally decide to leave for home in 10 minutes. 

After you have switched off the lights and are putting on your jacket, Peter bursts into the shop. He's wearing a parka, but you can tell he's hiding his Spiderman suit underneath. 

"I'm sorry." Peter comes closer to you with rapid breaths. You examine him closely for any injuries and hug him after he signals that he is alright. You kiss him relieved on the cheek. 'Just glad you're alright." Peter kisses your hand and pulls you after him. 

"I brought you flowers-" Peter clenches his fist and curses under his breath, "but they were unfortunately crushed during my...encounter." He holds the bouquet up to his face and hides behind it. However, your eyes begin to sparkle and you take the bouquet out of his hands. "You bought me flowers..that's adorable." And for a short while, you two just face each other and lose yourselves in each other's mesmerising eyes. 

Suddenly your smartphone rings in your pocket and you realise it's your mother calling you. "Damn, it's late!" You cringe and finally lock the shop. Peter runs a few steps after you and hugs you sideways to walk you home.

[proteanderg]

Random Idea I had: The Distressed Transformation Resource Center(DTRC) is your local resource for assisting, treating and curing any unwillingly transformed folk. DTRC provides several services such as TF-Alert Bands and emergency shuttle services along with their tried and tested C-MAT Transformation rehab process.

Services:

TF-Alert Bands: Are you unlucky? Are you subject to unwanted Transformations seemingly every week? With this alert band, any time you are subject to any polymorphic effect, it alerts our response team to attempt to contact and retrieve you if necessary for treatment. Available with per-use or subscription pricing models. Emergency Shuttle: Have you or someone near you been transformed but are unable to get to one of our centers? Contact our helpline and get a shuttle to come pick you up and bring you to us! Currently our biggest shuttle can transport up to a blue whale in size and weight. In-home Treatment: Are you unable to leave your home? Subject to a fragile form? Otherwise unable to regularly come into the center? Let us come to you! We can administer treatments and select other services right in the comfort of your own home. Frequency of visits can range from once a month to daily as needed. And more!

C-MAT Treatments

C - Cure: Most Transformations are easy to cure by our world class techs and mages. As most low level curses and amateur science experiments are imperfect, it is easy to revert the changes and send you on your way within 24 hours. Ninety Percent of cases are able to be solved with just this Step, but for stickier transformations, we move on to the MAT steps. M - Mitigate:

When a transformation requires a more long-term treatment to cure or is a chronic condition, DTRC staff will do all they can to mitigate the effects on your day to day life. Universal prehensile prostheses, mobility and sensory aids are standard fare, with more specialty treatments for cases such as inanimate transformations or permaberryism. Using speech therapy, memory restoration magics, and sense-of-self coaching, mental changes can be mitigated as well. A - Adapt:

In the case of a currently incurable transformation, or a transformation being mostly acceptable to you, another avenue is available at DTRC where more changes can be inflicted to help relieve the negative aspects of the change. Treatments such as Bipedalization, Paw-to-Handpaw modification and Voice-desqueakening are among the typically possible modifications even when the original transformation is rigid and incurable. T - Transfer:

If all else fails, thanks to recent developments in protean artifice, nearly any kind of transformation can be transferred to a willing donor, even if it's otherwise impossible to reverse.  Donors are fully informed of what they will be receiving as changes before accepting and have free access to all DTRC services for a year after the transfer. Repeat donors get additional free access, with lifetime access after their 5th donation. You may find it surprising that anyone would volunteer to become a Pooltoy or Maribelle from Creature Passthrough, but we often have a short waitlist for several categories of transformations. We always need more donors though, so contact our donor information line today!

[rreskk]

Before the storm

CHAPTER 2: The coffee date gone wrong

Summary: Deciding to befriend Trevor personally, he mistakes your kindness with affection.

Part 1 --> Here ‘Hate to love, love to hate’ --> Here

A few days passed and you grew unaware of your plans with Trevor. Due to the ongoing hard labour of your waitressing mess, Trevor has completely vanished from your mind. He was instead replaced with the thought of your minimum wage, and considering looking for other placements. While your dream was to study business overbroad, it flunked after receiving little to no money, even when you’d work full hours, every day. Your parents could not afford your tuition either, leaving you with no choice.

Collecting yourself a hot mug of coffee after returning from a nightshift, your house telephone began ringing, making you jump and spill half onto your comfy clothes. Cursing at the burning sensation, you extended one hand and pulled the phone to your ear, leaning it against your shoulder so you could multitask and prevent wasting time.

“Hello?” You called out.

A profound huff responded to your greetings.

“Who is this?”

The masculine voice rumbled through the line, “It’s me, Trevor. You remember? Or am I just a simpleton now?”

Suddenly remembering your supposed plans with the man, you gasped shamelessly.

“I am so sorry, Trevor. My schedule has been jammed full!”

“Oh, yeah clearly,” He forwardly proclaimed, “I’ve been ringing you all night, sugar. I was getting the idea that you want me gone.”

His sense of values exaggerated his cause of emotions. After forgetting about him for a few days, he automatically assumed you were a liar and a loser. None of which fits your criteria. You were more of a workaholic, something he’ll never be.

“I had a night shift, I couldn’t answer the phone.”

Trevor scoffed, “Don’t you have a mobile?”

“It broke and I can’t afford another one yet,” You explained, twirling the lead with your fingers, “But hey, I have the day off today… Is it too late to make plans?”

You could hear him ponder as he thoughtfully hummed to himself.

“Sugar, today is your lucky day. I have nothing planned. You may clog up my schedule, I’ll happily devote my days to you.”

His flirtatious voice raised your temperature levels and you felt yourself heat up in the face. You knew he was playing around but Jesus, he has no right being this charismatic.

“Wow,” You chuckled timidly, “Are you like this to every lady?”

“Only the ones who redeem themselves worthy enough.” Trevor toyed hysterically.

“That’s enough now, Trevor. I don’t… Play around like that, okay?”

He huffed, “Being a killjoy once again.”

You rolled your eyes, “Come one, let’s go get coffee together, yeah?”

“A coffee date?”

“No, Trevor!”

He yelped out a groan of frustration.

“Fine!”

An hour after the call declined, you drove skittishly downtown to where you could see Trevor waiting outside the coffee shop you worked at. He was staring down at his feet, kicking pebbles into the road where cars would pass by and beep when being threatened by the small rock. You parked down the road and began walking up, avoiding the slipperiness of snow as you edged closer and closer to the man.

“Look who it is!” Trevor smiled, raising his hands and inviting you in a peculiar embrace.

Being entrapped in his arms, you awkwardly patted his lower back and gave him a small smile. The man looked no different than before, instead, he just had a hat to cover his manic hair. As he breathed, the cold air evaporated from his mouth, portraying a cosy look to his atypical appearance.

“I’m glad we could meet up.” You admitted while guiding him into the small café.

The smell of coffee completely overtaken Trevor’s poorly scent, instantly relieving your sensitive nose. Directing him to a small table in the corner, he sluggishly sat with his knees spread, lazily scheming the menu before coming to the conclusion that he recognises the name of the café.

“Don’t you work here?”

You nodded your head, taking a seat in front of him.

Trevor’s eyebrows furrowed, “You work nightshifts in a fuckin’ café?”

You began chuckling at his confusion. He didn’t seem too impressed that you are finding him amusing, putting a stop to your laughter.

“It’s a bar as well…” You gestured to the double doors that opens up to the bar and games room.

Trevor simply disregarded your words before he found something better to talk about.

“I’m finding it hard to believe you get along with Michael and Amanda.” He confessed.

You could roll your eyes to the sky… The amount of times he has mentioned them. If you bet one dollar for every time, you’d be able to study overbroad and live your highlife!

“What is your big deal about them?” You professed with astonishment, “I’m not being ridiculous, but he must of done something to make you dislike him so much.”

Trevor scowled at your words, pretending as though you weren’t right.

“I don’t hate him! I just don’t understand why he’s spending all his money and time with her!”

“Because he loves her, is that hard to understand?”

“You are delusional,” He finally broke character, “Obviously you wouldn’t know ‘cos you only knew him for a couple of months.”

You sighed and tried to keep calm, “Okay, listen, I don’t want any problems with you… Okay?”

Trevor crossed his arms and avoided your direction.

“Look, I knew him for over a year now. I met Amanda first, and I must admit, she is overbearingly materialistic… But it shouldn’t bother you. Michael’s relationship should not affect your friendship with him, yes?”

“I know that,” He mumbled, “But his relationship is affecting our one. I can’t do shit with him. The old Michael is gone.”

You found it hard to reach to his sensitivity. Although you were empathic, Trevor was another level. He takes things personally and you could identify that from the first moment you looked at him. While you may take nothing personally, you are rational with your thinking.

“Not everything can last forever. I’d suggest you try and meet newer people who you feel a connection with, just like the old Michael.”

Trevor inattentively refused to listen as he grew emotional. Dabbing the menu with his hand, the man childishly glanced to you with exhaustion.

“Are we gonna get coffee or what?”

You curled your lip and found disbelief in his insecurities.

“You had started the conversation… But fine, what would you like?” You asked.

He licked his teeth, “Mocha.”

You nodded and began approaching the front before Trevor, as he did before, pulled on your coat.

“What do you think you are doing, missy?”

You gave him a side glare, “Paying for our drinks?”

“No, no,” Trevor muttered, “What do you want? I’ll pay. I can’t let a lovely lady like you cash out on me.”

And like that, he’s blinded to see how he’s acting like Michael right now. The neediness to pay for you contrasted his words awfully. You could tell he is fragile and scared to admit he’s beginning to loosen up from the criminal lifestyle.

“I have a discount, I work here, remember?” You interposed.

He shook his head and gave you grabby hands, “Gimme it, I’ll pay… Using your discount.”

Knowing you can’t win this battlement of independence, you told him your order and he immediately struct from his chair and bounced towards the front, loudly demanding drinks for you and him.

Observing his maturity, you squinted at how relevantly interactive he is with his surroundings. He takes no depth to the damage he’s causing, paying no respect as he’ll loudly plea as he wants. The amount of disfigured derangement made you wonder how he can act so charmingly attractive. When he is close to his emotions, you’ll notice how easy it is to break him. Trevor’s sides alternate with each other and you can see it flicker in his eyes. He determines his values and shapes the situation forcefully into benefiting his feelings and desires.

Chuckling at how sinister you were analysing his demeanour, you averted your eyes from the interesting man and began nipping at your nails, fighting time with productivity…

Trevor stormed over with his hands occupying the two hot drinks. He gently handed you the mug and he roughly settled into his leather seat, grinding himself to fit perfectly. You didn’t mean to watch him circulate his waist like that, blushing significantly obviously. As you found the tension rotate from the paranoia of his romantic intensions, you found yourself begging for him to talk about anything but flirtatious remarks. Or you’ll end up representing the shades of a tomato.

“You planning anything for Christmas?” He finally proposed with lack of interest, gulping down his steamy drink.

You nodded, “I’m staying at my parents.”

Trevor’s eyebrows perched at the mention of your parents.

“Ah, Mr and Mrs [L/n]. They still stick around?”

Backhandedly thinking he was insulting their presence, you firmly degraded his commentary.

“Of course they still stick around. Why do you care?”

He began choking on his drink, suffocating the fluids as he laughed hollowly.

“Oh, sweetcheeks,” Trevor smirked, “I wasn’t sure there was much supportive parental figures around. My mother is absent, my father is dead inside, and I can’t say shit about the rest! I barely knew anyone! Same goes to Mikey and Brad.”

You fell silent at the miscommunication. Now you were reflecting your own personal flaws as you are facing someone who doubles as your nightmare. Sometimes being around someone so blankly deranged that you ponder your own self-consciousness. Nevertheless, hearing about his absent parents, you understood how he become like this. Unstable.

“Sorry, I got a bit annoye-“

“Annoyed? Oh, sugar, you were fantastically furious. It made my stomach get butterflies.” He teased from behind his mug.

Sinking into your seat, you reckoned you’ll be leaving sweat marks at the amount of anxious waves you’ve received with Trevor being the only person talking to you. Apprehending the fact he’s not as bad as you thought he was, you realised you haven’t seen shit of him. The thought that lingers in the back of your mind is how he’s been classified as a ‘murdering drug addict’. Wondering if it’s true, you cleared your throat.

“So…”

Trevor watched you process the rest of your thoughts.

“How long have you been doing this… Criminal thing?”

“For as long as I remember,” Trevor simpered, “It was petty shit at first; pickpocketing old people, arson, assault. Then Michael turned up and I’ve basically committed all of the seven deadly sins! I won’t get into much detail as you don’t seem to be the… Criminal obsessed type.”

Raising your hand, “No, please, I’d like to know more.”

He seemed surprised at first. He felt your engagement and attentivity that he’d proudly beam.

“My first kill was a headshot with a flare gun. That’s how I first met Mikey. He chased this guy, saying how he’s unreliable and dangerous. I defensively shot him and I had to fly both the burning body and Michael to Canada.”

You grimaced as he snickered at your reaction.

“It was goddamn horrible. My cargo has never smelt the same since.”

Unable to produce a reply, Trevor dismissed you with the flap of his hand.

“See, I told you!” He winked, “I appreciate you wanting to know more about me. I feel all warm inside… Lovely, dovely, warm, moist-“

“Trevor!” You grossed out at his behaviour and he dramatically laughed.

“Oh, come on, girl! I ain’t seen the best of you! Chill out, chill out, I wanna know about you.”

Testifying his seriousness, you snapped yourself back into reactivation and blew some steam.

“Okay, what would you like to know?”

Trevor clicked his fingers, “Your bra size.”

Shocked at the sudden answer, he began mockingly cackle at you again.

“I’m kiddin’, kiddin’. I wanna know about your hobbies, or whatever.”

“I swear to God,” You warned him, “Don’t say anymore of that crap or I’m leaving.”

Trevor seemed serious now as he peered at you like you were restricting his freedom of speech.

“I was joking, don’t take it personally.” He’d bicker.

“Call me killjoy, but I am not going to let you walk away after saying freakish things to me.”

The man huffed as if he was getting lectured by his mother, “Yeah, sure, fine! I’ll stop. I promise. I never break a promise.”

Taking a much needed breath, you thoroughly explained your hobbies and interests. Trevor would comment on one or two, but left you to commit to the talking as he spent that time curiously dreaming into your occupied eyes.

“It is very relaxing actual-“

“You know,” He interrupted your train of words, “I’ve never had a coffee date before. I always went to strip clubs or houses.”

You confusingly held your speech as he gazed up to you.

“Thank you.”

Blinking twice the amount as before, you stuttered.

“Thank you about what?”

Trevor rolled his eyes, “I wanted to thank you for just staying with me. We’ve been here for hours now and I’ve been enjoying my sweet time. I never do that. I know we’ve just met but Jesus, you are showing me signs of affection I barely get from people I’ve known for my whole life.”

Your mood saddened at his confess.

“I don’t wanna be a pervert or anything, but I do like you. A lot.”

Reading his face, he was not joking this time.

“Trevor, I think this takes some thoughts. Privately.”

He looked at his hands, “I’m a hopeless romantic or something like that. You show me appreciation and I’ll fall in love with it-“

“Trevor,” You staggered, “Please, I’m not looking for love. I’m focusing on my work. I can’t do this… This… This thing! This thing you believe we have. I’m sorry for breaking the glass here, but I’m not interested in you. At all.”

Complete lie.

As well as that, his eyes grew dark and shallow.

Trevor moved out from his chair and roughly zipped up his coat. You went to apologise for your outburst but he was already out of the door. Expecting a long phonecall with Michael later on, you grew guilty and ashamed of what you had just done.

[highfunctioningflailgirl]

How (Not) To Let Your Guard Down

The fist swings at him, but Strike takes a quick step back and easily evades the blow. His opponent follows up with a jab, too weak to break through Strike’s guard. They dance around each other a bit, gloved fists raised, Strike grinning into his mouthguard. He feels light on his feet, months of training paying off, and his new prosthesis gives him the mobility and balance he needs.

“Come on, big boy,” his sparring partner - as big as Strike and grinning as well - teases him, motioning at his chin. “Need your reading glasses to find the spot?”

Strike chuffs, taking the friendly dig in stride. He may be forty now, but he hasn’t felt this fit in a long time.

“I’m good,” he growls and launches into a swift left-right-left combination that lands in his partner’s guard, but not without making him grunt under the impact. “I can smell you just fine.”

They both laugh, breathing hard, sweat running down their bare backs as they continue to circle each other.

Behind his partner’s back, Strike catches a glimpse of someone entering the otherwise empty gym. A beige coat. A bright, pretty face. Strawberry blonde hair. Rob-

“Ouff…!”

A fist to his stomach takes Strike’s breath away, and his head whips around when the subsequent right hook connects with his eyebrow. As his false foot slips out from underneath him, he gropes for the ropes, but they’re too far away and, flailing inelegantly, he falls hard on his side.

Robin cannot suppress a startled little gasp as she sees Strike go down and lie still. She drops her handbag and, with a few quick strides, reaches the boxing ring and climbs up and through the ropes.

Strike’s sparring partner - an imposing black man she knows is called Jed - is already kneeling by Strike’s side, tearing off his boxing gloves.

“Shit, Strike!” he curses. “This wasn’t supposed to happen! You alright, man? Talk to me!”

To Robin’s relief, her partner is stirring, and she hears him groan as she bends over him. His eyes - the left one already swelling - are squeezed shut in a grimace of pain. Blood is trickling from a cut on his brow.

“Fuckin’ 'ell…” He grunts as he spits out his mouthguard and rolls onto his back.

“Cormoran?”

At the sound of Robin’s voice, Strike opens his eyes.

“What- …. what are you doing here?” His eyes look uncannily green in his flushed and bloodied face. Robin blinks mesmerization away. Strike clumsily tries to sit up.

“Causing you to drop your guard, apparently,” Jed says wryly, but with a hint of relief. He’s helping Strike sit. “Man, you gave me a fright! Thought I’d knocked you right out.”

“Nah. Takes more than that,” Strike replies, bravado slowly returning. “You still punch like my sister.”

Jed snorts.

Robin, equally relieved, cannot help but smile at the heroic antics and at the lopsided smirk on her partner’s face. She feels a flutter in her chest as she studies him under the disguise of worry: He’s dropped several pounds since last year, and now that she’s seeing him shirtless, she secretly enjoys the view of his muscled, sweaty chest and the hint of an emerging sixpack.

“Well, you are bleeding,” she comments. “And this might need stitches.” She nods at his cut eyebrow. Now that he’s sitting, blood is trailing down his cheek and beginning to drip off his jaw.

Strike paws at the cut with his still-gloved hand.

“Nah. Couple of butterfly stitches, and I’ll be good to go. Jed?”

His sparring partner has apparently been boxing long enough with Strike to know about his dislike for hospitals, because, after a critical gaze at the wound, Jed nods.

“Yeah. Butterfly stitches will do. Lemme go get the kit.” He gets up and wedges his large body through the ropes. “I’ll be right back.”

When he’s gone, Strike motions to the corner behind him.

“Could you fetch me my stool? Will be easier for Jed if I don’t sit on the floor while he patches me up.” He wriggles his good eyebrow. “... and less embarrassing for me.”

Robin smiles.

“Of course.”

She hurries to fetch the sturdy stool from beside the ring and places it in the blue-padded corner.

In a concerted effort that makes her very aware of Strike’s physical proximity, they get him up. He’s slick with sweat, his waist firm under Robin’s grip, his upper arms so muscular, she can’t get her hands around them. One big hand on Robin’s shoulder, he blinks and stretches his back.

“Dizzy?” Robin inquires.

“No. Just a bit sore.”

“You could have a concussion, you know.”

“I don’t.”

The hint of an edge in Strike’s voice tells Robin not to pursue the matter any further. Plus, he looks steady on his feet, he’s neither pale nor disoriented, and he doesn’t give the impression of having to throw up anytime soon. And being a boxer, she assumes he knows what a concussion feels like.

Tentatively, Strike puts his weight on his false leg and takes a step, testing for damage. A satisfied hum confirms that his new prosthesis is as reliable as it was designed to be. Once more, Robin’s gaze is drawn to the new definition in Strike’s leg muscles.

He drops onto the stool with a sigh and lifts his gloved fists.

“Help me get these off?”

“Sure.”

Heart beating faster, Robin crouches down before him and begins to undo the laces of his boxing gloves. She feels his breath on her, smells his familiar scent, intensified by his body heat, through the gym’s locker room smell. Quietly, obediently, he lets her free him, and Robin finds herself enjoying the pull of attractiveness just as much as the natural ease between them. For a moment, their boundaries become transparent.

“Got it!”

Jed returns, jogging across the gym floor with a first aid kit. He’s also brought a towel that he transfers to Strike when he’s back in the ring.

Robin, who’s managed to pull both gloves off Strike’s hands, steps aside to give him some room.

“Yeah, that doesn’t look too bad,” Jed comments while he pours antiseptic onto a wad of gauze and begins to clean Strike’s wound.

In spite of his reassurance, Strike’s eye is swelling shut in earnest now, and Robin has a feeling he’ll look too frightening tomorrow to deal with clients. She can already see the ice packs they keep in the office fridge for his stump doing overtime on his face for the next day or two. And yet, he looks decidedly daredevil, and the fact that he isn’t going to moan and complain about it the way Matthew always did after a sports injury makes him attractive in an entirely wrong yet enticingly audacious way.

“You know you’re going to have to follow concussion protocol, right?”

Expertly applying the butterfly stitches, Jed puts a bit of off-handed sternness into his words.

As anticipated, Strike protests. “That’s not necessary. Honestly, I’m fine. There really is no need to-”

“I’ll look after him.”

Buoyed by Jed’s example, Robin crosses her arms in front of her chest and plants herself in Strike’s line of vision.

“I’ll stay with him tonight. Wake him up every hour or so when he sleeps. He can stay at my place.”

He scowls at her from out of his one good eye and opens his mouth. But then he pauses, expression changing. She sees his face shift into surprise and curiosity. A silent, titillating question flickers in his gaze.

Robin isn’t sure whether it’s her resoluteness, his evolving acceptance for self-care or - maybe, possibly - him also feeling that same warm, undeniable pull between them that makes him relent. After all, they’ve had moments like this, magnetic and scary, many times in the course of the last few years. Moments that remained unacknowledged or were ruined by either of them.

Something feels different tonight.

“Yeah, okay.” Strike sounds hoarse when he says it, still looking at Robin, and Jed tssks when Strike’s nod dislodges a butterfly stitch he’d just been applying. “Yeah, thanks, Robin.”

She smiles again, skin tingling.

Tonight may just end in Strike falling asleep on her folding couch with an ice pack on his face and snoring louder than ever.

Or, if his stamina is as good as he’s been claiming, and if they’re both brave enough, it may end somewhere entirely different.

Either way, Robin is ready to find out.

You can also read and comment on AO3, here:

[28seesaw]

A Book

About: Two strangers are brought together by a book, drawing together what would have been separate, quiet worlds into an unexpected but beautiful new one. Type: One-shot Pairing: idol!Yoongi x female OC Warnings: - Also on: AO3 A/N: I can’t tell if this counts as a meet-cute (?) but this was inspired by an actual trip to the library today and the need for some good ol’ heartwarming fluff:)

"You don't have to be looking at someone to notice them."

::

This was always a debate for Nari. There was that beautiful café with the perfect street view but getting a seat there meant spending money on overpriced beverages. Then there was the constantly crowded city library that required no spending but instead, required patience to endure the incessant buzz of the sometimes inconsiderate crowds.

Does nobody just… sit and read quietly anymore? Nari thought, already exasperated. She cursed internally as she navigated the hordes of running children and chatting teenagers, wondering if an exorbitant coffee might have provided the better reading spot today.

After a harrowing journey into the depths of the library, Nari found the place she was looking for. What made this library trek worth it were the single armchairs at the ends of the rows of these inner bookshelves. Those single armchairs meant uninterrupted quiet time of solo reading for Nari. Nari was relieved to see that out of the few abundantly-spaced out armchairs, there was still an empty one left. She tread quietly over and sank into the armchair with a small grateful sigh.

As Nari pulled out her slightly weathered copy of what had proven to be a most emotionally riveting read thus far, her mobile phone somehow slipped out of her canvas tote, landing on the library’s carpeted floor with a soft thud. The person reading across from Nari looked up before lowering his gaze to the phone on the floor. He was wearing a mask and so quite literally masked whatever his expression might have been. Nari was glad for it because it was obvious her tiny mishap had disturbed him. She bowed apologetically in his direction, still embarrassed to properly look up at him before quickly retrieving her phone.

After popping her phone back into her bag and finally settling properly into her seat, Nari stole a quick glance back up at the stranger she had accidentally disturbed. She was relieved to see he had resumed his reading and appeared otherwise unperturbed. To her surprise, however, he looked up again, causing their gazes to meet. Before Nari could react, the stranger pointed to her book then gave her a thumbs-up, nodding his head lightly, as though approving her choice of literature. All Nari could see were his eyes, but she could see that they were soft, kind and caught the light rather beautifully.

Nari mustered an uncertain half smile and nodded back in acknowledgement. There was a small shake of his shoulders and it looked like he might have had a little laugh to himself under the mask. When he returned to his book, Nari lowered her eyes back to her own in relief. She had not expected so many delays to her peaceful afternoon reading but oddly, this was a delay she found herself not really minding.

It was always hard to tell how long she stayed reading on these solo afternoons but it was now Nari’s turn to have her reading interrupted. Small movements in her peripheral vision were easy to ignore. Many people getting up simultaneously from their seats, on the other hand, were a little harder not to notice. By reflex, Nari’s gaze shot up, only to see four men who had also been seated at the other solo seats gradually converge towards the stranger in front of her. The stranger tucked his book into his black leather satchel and walked towards Nari, the four men following closely beside and behind him. He took care to stop near enough to speak to her without raising his voice, but not too near that he should tower over her seated figure. The four men also stepped back, creating a sort of bubble around Nari and the stranger.

“Is your phone all right?” the stranger asked.

Nari could not help but frown, unable to think of any plausible reason this stranger would need to come up and talk to her. She slid her bookmark between the pages of her book and shut it slowly, purely to buy time so she could craft a suitable response in this rather puzzling encounter. “It’s a carpeted floor, so it’s fine… thank you for asking,” she replied factually and politely.

He nodded, as though he too was buying time to think.

“How are you finding Almond*? You look like you’re almost done,” he said at last, vaguely gesturing to the book in her lap. Why did it seem as though he was the one feeling awkward now?

“It’s… not the easiest book. Some parts hurt like crazy.” Nari answered, drumming her fingers on the book. “But it’s still good, hard to put down.”

He nodded, as though agreeing. Nari was just about to attempt a polite continuation by asking about the book he was reading when he spoke again.

“How did you come across this book?” he asked. There was nothing unusual about his question, but it puzzled Nari as to why he had asked it.

“Do you know who Min Yoongi is?” answered Nari.

Her words made the stranger’s eyes widen for a moment before relaxing, a slight crinkle at the corners which could only result from a smile.

“People would normally ask ‘Do you know BTS?’,” he answered with a small laugh, “But yes, I know who he is.” “Well, he’s someone I—” Nari paused, catching herself. This stranger did not need to know what she thought of Min Yoongi. She continued, rephrasing. “He’s someone who read quite a bit on this reality show he was in with the rest of the band. Almond was the book he was reading. I was curious, so I bought a copy myself.”

The stranger nodded thoughtfully as he heard Nari’s response. A tiny glint of playfulness twinkled ever so slightly in his eyes and it did not escape Nari.

“Why were you curious about the book he was reading?” asked the stranger.

It might have been the anxiety of a longer-than-expected conversation with a confusing stranger or the frustration at her reading having been interrupted but Nari found herself shooting a question back to him instead.

“Why are you so curious about a book I’m reading? A book you obviously seem to recognise too?” Nari remarked, re-enacting the puzzling thumbs-up of approval he had shown her earlier.

The stranger’s eyes shone with amusement and Nari could tell clearly he was smiling behind that mask.

“Can I assume that you don’t… dislike Min Yoongi?” he remarked calmly.

His words caused Nari to raise an eyebrow. Surrendering to the fact that she could see no logic or reasoning behind their entire exchange, she officially decided to stop looking for any.

“I’m reading a book he’s reading,” Nari replied with a casual shrug, “Clearly I don’t dislike him.”

There was that small laugh again. Now that she could also hear it instead of only seeing it, Nari berated herself for finding it oddly warm and comforting. She was beginning to wonder if she had fallen asleep in the library and this was just a bizarre dream.

“In that case,” the stranger replied, “It’s very nice to meet you.”

Yoongi lowered his mask, revealing a shy but playful smile, his eyes shining handsomely. The moment he revealed his face, the four men surrounding him, which Nari now realised were his security detail, immediately moved closer, tightening the bubble around the two of them. With that smile still lingering on his lips, Yoongi extended a hand towards a very bewildered Nari.

“Would you like to have coffee?” asked Yoongi, “We can talk about the book… no spoilers, I promise.” “Coffee is too expensive,” blurted Nari, her mind momentarily unable to produce a logical reply. Her response was nothing new to Yoongi, who had seen it on countless faces at countless fan events. Finding himself endeared by it, on the other hand, was new. Chuckling to himself. Yoongi withdrew his hand which Nari was obviously still too shocked to receive.

“I’m buying,” he said. “And you can have as many coffees as you'd like.”

Nari shut her eyes and took a deep breath in before exhaling slowly. Her mind began processing what now stood before her. Yoongi’s laugh, his face, his hands – these were not unknown or new to Nari. It was the visceral nature of it all that was overwhelmingly new and all but screamed the proximity with which Nari was now experiencing him.  

“Why is Min Yoongi in one of the busiest libraries in the city?” said Nari, unable to tell if she was talking to Yoongi or to herself. “Why are you addressing me in third person?” Yoongi remarked, amused. He realised she was no longer looking at him, her eyes darting from his shoulder, to his shoes, but never at his face. “Which reminds me, I don’t know your name.” “It’s Nari… But why are you here?” Nari repeated, rising from her seat as she gradually collected herself, “And why did you come talk to me?”

Yoongi slowly rubbed the back of his neck as he searched for a response.

“That is the question, isn’t it?” he remarked softly and pensively, suddenly unable to quite look at her. It took a few moments as Yoongi carefully considered all the events that had transpired.

“I noticed you walking in,” he said at last, “Walking down this long aisle of books before reaching your seat.” “You weren’t even looking up. No one was.” It was Nari’s turn to chuckle now. Except it was one of disbelief. “You don’t have to be looking at someone to notice them,” came Yoongi’s reply, “And though I wanted a second look, I reminded myself I couldn’t. And shouldn’t. I’m used to having to do that.” “A second look…” Nari scoffed. Did Yoongi forget who he was and the clear disparity between their two universes that would not even have warranted a first look? “But then I saw your book,” he continued, “Even before your phone fell out.” “It’s just a book though, isn’t it?” Nari remarked, the incredulity still in her voice. “Yes, but… what were the chances that it was that book?” Yoongi remarked with a small smile.

Nari gave a small, thoughtful nod as his words sank in.

“You made that book quite popular, you know,” she said, “I’m sure I’m one of many who’s gone out to buy a copy of their own.” “Agreed,” Yoongi replied, “But it was you reading it.

Nari felt Yoongi’s unwavering gaze on her and with a sharp inhale, decisively looked up and met those very eyes.

“Please don’t laugh at me for saying this but…” Nari paused, already regretting her words. “I won’t…” “Except you will.” “Try me.” “Is this—This isn’t…” Nari shut her eyes and momentarily squeezed the bridge of her nose. “This isn’t what?” Yoongi pushed, gently. “One of those… group games or prank challenges or what have you…” Nari said finally, waving her hand in front of her face as though trying to swat her own words away.

Yoongi laughed, a fuller, heartier one this time. This really was new. He felt the rush in his veins and the corresponding warmth travel up to his cheeks. Was the human heart always capable of beating so hard? It was new and yet, nostalgic. Before Yoongi could speak and assuage the suspicion Nari was feeling, a new voice joined their bubble, although neither of them could see who it was.

“Excuse me, this is a library. No gatherings, and please keep your volume down,” a library staff member said sternly yet sans the courage to pass through the rather formidable barrier of Yoongi’s security.

That did the trick. The sound of someone else, someone normal in a normal, familiar environment helped ground Nari. She smiled and shook her head.

“Min Yoongi…” Nari had to bite her lip in disbelief at what she now had to believe. “I’m right here,” Yoongi replied. His tone was laced with the slightest hint of teasing again. “It’s very nice to meet you too.”

This time, it was Nari who extended her hand. Yoongi, not wanting to miss the chance again, reached out immediately. Their hands glided towards each other, fitting nicely as their fingers effortlessly found their places. Nari could feel the cool ends of Yoongi fingers skim ever so lightly over the skin of her wrist, causing her to bite the corner of her lip again but for a very different reason.

“The invitation for coffee still stands,” Yoongi remarked, smiling at Nari, “Or we could just stand here, like this. I wouldn’t mind in the least.”

Nari smiled and shook her head. It was hard to get rid of the disbelief, but it seemed she would have to keep trying.

“While this is nice…” she began, reluctantly sliding her hand out of his, “Your security guys are looking a little anxious. So I think we should get out of here.”

Before Nari could fully separate from their handshake, Yoongi’s hand pushed forward, catching her fingers in his again. The speed of it all stunned Nari and Yoongi noticed, resulting in a sheepish half-smile from him. Nari had to look away from that that smile of his.

“You have to stop smiling like that,” said Nari, looking away from him as though he were a blinding light. “Would it helped if I stood beside you?” Yoongi suggested, his usual wit replacing the earlier sheepishness.

Nari laughed as Yoongi moved to her side, not once letting her fingers go. Only until they were shoulder to shoulder did Yoongi begin adjusting their hands so that they could now comfortably hold hands.

“What is happening…” Nari whispered, rubbing her temple with her free hand. “I’m going crazy. This is crazy.” “It really is,” Yoongi admitted, “I can’t believe this is happening.” “You can’t believe this is happening?” Nari exclaimed in amusement, causing the both of them to chuckle.

Their growing revelry was interrupted again by the sharp cough of the same library staff who had come trundling over to repeat his warning.

“Excuse me, this is a library—” “Yes, yes, we’re on our way,” said Yoongi, cutting him off.

The staff walked away grumbling to himself while Nari and Yoongi resumed their muffled laughing.  

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Yoongi repeated, unable to contain his smile as he looked over at Nari with the gentlest eyes. “You look like you’re going to kiss me,” Nari said with a laugh. “Should I?” Yoongi teased, leaning towards her slightly. “Absolutely not,” Nari exclaimed while foolishly stopping his false advances by placing two fingers on his lips.

The pair froze, before grins broke out on both their faces again. Yoongi could not resist and planted a small kiss on her fingers that had pressed against his mouth. He then reluctantly moved her fingers away so he could pull his mask up over his lips and nose again. There was a small sigh that escaped him. What he would have given to simply walk out of the library with Nari, with no masks to conceal his identity nor security to shadow his every step.

Nari ran her thumb gently over his knuckles, bringing Yoongi out of his thoughts. He turned to her and saw her smile, the same smile he had noticed when he witnessed her delight at finding a seat in the library.

“You okay?” Nari asked, her thumb still rubbing soothing circles on his hand.

Yoongi shut his eyes for a moment, relishing her proximity, something he had never imagined he could ever experience again. Beneath the mask, a smile grew on his lips, one Nari could not see, but Yoongi hoped he would be able to convey to her today, tomorrow, maybe even the day after and the days after that.

“I’m more than okay, Nari,” he said at last, turning to look at her.

Nari looked back at him, marvelling quietly at the truly wonderful way his eyes caught the specks of light around them.

“Someone should write a story about this,” Nari said with a laugh. “It’d inspire whole nations to start reading books again.” “Would a song do?” Yoongi remarked, equally amused. “I’m pre-ordering it already,” joked Nari, earning a bright chuckle from Yoongi before the pair began their exit in a small new bubble of their own.

::

*Almond by Sohn Won-pyung

[imabadarsebard]

So I just want to preface this with saying that I am someone with a disability, both neurologically and mobility wise, but that I am not a part of the specific community referenced in this post, I do not and have not experienced long term hearing loss so I’m trying to write this as accurately as possible, but I recognize I am by no means an expert here and if I get something wrong I am interpreting this to my best abilities but am more than open to constructive criticism and please correct me if I’m misunderstanding anything here.

Anyways on to my point here, I’ve been scrounging the depths of Tubi for some half decent horror movies that I haven’t seen and I wanted to give a shoutout to one I watched today cause it made me happy.

The movie is Door in the woods, doing a quick search after watching this movie has like hardly any mention past an IMDb page and some very mediocre reviews, which fair enough, it’s nothing groundbreaking by any means, very much the typical

Family moves to a new town

Find 100% obviously cursed item

Decide it would be perfect

Bring it home

Get haunted

Spirit takes kid

Séances and Ouiji boards ensue

Shitty deal made to get kid back

End

Like very much run of the mill horror B-movie. But what I really appreciated is something that is a bit of a recurring issue in horror cinema, there’s been many instances of a characters disability being used for shock value, or the entire personality of the character is being disabled but Door in the wood dodged this really well!

For context, the psychic character has some form of hearing loss, this isn’t announced or made a big deal, you just meet him doing a tarot session with the mother of the family, and them using a mix of sign language and verbal communication, the whole family can sign and do so when talking to the character, no one comments on it or comments on the characters way of talking, which was incredibly refreshing.

The only real time it’s brought up is when they’re doing the seance thing and the demon starts making noises, the psychic asked them if they (the parents) can hear it, and the dad remarks « wait you can hear it? » to kinda show that it’s not a real world sound it’s the spirit stuff.

Like no making it a running joke or disrespect, just very natural mix of signing and speaking.

And in my research after I was very relieved to find they cast an actual actor with hearing loss (CJ Jones) and not just an abled actor pretending to be hearing impaired.

I dunno, I know it’s not a huge thing but it’s just nice to see good representation of people with disabilities in media.

And I could be totally wrong about this, if it’s actually a harmful or inaccurate depiction then I’m very sorry and can take this down but yeah.

[ljsstories]

Chapter Seven: Confessions

Lachie Boyle sat opposite his sister at the dinner table that evening wondering if he should tell her about the visitor earlier that day. Hamish eyed his son curiously, knowing that something was bothering him, but continued to attack his pork chop with his knife and fork. Eventually the curiosity got the better of him and he slammed his cutlery down noisily. "Awright son, whit's the matter eh?" he leaned his elbows on the table and clasped his hands together.

"Nothin'!" Lachie mumbled and pushed his peas around his plate guiltily.

"C'moan, get it aff yer chist eh?"

"Naw Da, no the noo!" Lachie dropped his fork and pushed his chair away, standing abruptly he excused himself and left the room.

"Right that's it!!!" Hamish growled and followed his son out.

"HAMISH!" Annie scolded, "Be nice!" Hamish let out a large huff as he stood in the doorway.

"Aye awright wuman!" Lachie was in the living room across the hall punching the buttons of the TV remote roughly as he sprawled himself on the small two seater couch.

"Lachlan son, gonnae tell me whit the matter is?" he sat down beside his son, it was a squeeze for the two of them being on the rather larger side.

"Da, a dinnae know whit tae dae! A think Oz is in some kinda trouble!"

"Like whit?" Hamish looked at him with surprise, Oz was a good boy, surely it couldn't be so bad?

"There wiz this guy, came tae reception this mornin', lookin' fur Oz! He says Oz knicked money aff his boss and..."

"Wait jist a minute there! Ye mean he's a THIEF???"

"Da..." Lachie rubbed his temples gingerly and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Naw, a dinnae believe it Lachie! No Oz!" he shook his head roughly and crossed his arms.

"Da, a don't know what tae tell Rhona!" Lachie's face was pained, he didn't want to hurt his sister any more than she had been lately. And to find this out about Oz would just break her heart!

"Ye huvtae tell Oz, that's fur sure! He needs tae know this man is after him! And he needs tae explain!!!" Hamish nodded sternly, "Gi 'im a phone son!" Lachie had tried several times that evening to get through to Oz, but his phone was obviously switched off. Rhona knew there was something going on between her father and brother but they weren't giving anything away as to what it might be. She thought Lachie may be having problems with Elspeth, because he sure looked down in the dumps! She hadn't seen him with her since the day before and wondered if they had split up, so she felt it was her duty as his sister to find out. As he sat in his room staring down at his mobile phone in his hand, Rhona knocked lightly on his half open door.

"Lachie? You got a minute?" he jumped up off of his bed and dropped the phone on the floor, cursing to himself he wiped his hands down his black trousers and stared straight at her, like a rabbit caught in the headlights of a truck.

"Awright wee yin?" he tried to put on a smile but it just looked so false, she was right! Elspeth had dumped him, it must be that!

"I wanted to see how you were! You were acting kind of off at dinner! Is everything okay between you and Elspeth?" Lachie looked relieved at her line of questioning which puzzled her. She expected him to break down, to get even more upset but he didn't!

"Naw, it's no that it's..." he stopped and bent down to pick up his phone, the back casing had snapped off but it wasn't broken. As he pieced it back together with a grunt, Rhona approached him and looked up into his brown eyes with determination.

"Then what is it Lachie???" she still would not leave his gaze, he crumbled and dropped down onto the bed.

"It's Oz!" Rhona gasped at the mention of his name but pulled herself together and sat down beside her brother.

"Is he alright? He's not..." realising what she meant, Lachie shook his head and smiled.

"He's fine, naw it's no that either!" then he sat up straight, preparing to tell her the truth. "He's in a bit of bother Rhona! He got a visit fae a guy a can only describe as a thug, he said Oz stole money fae his boss and it looks like it's a lot of money!" Rhona did not move, she did not say a word, she just sat looking at her brother with a blank expression on her face. "A cannae get him tae answer his phone! A think he switched it aff after a phoned him the last time!"

"Where is this guy now?" was all she could say.

"A dunno shorty! But he said he'd be back! A didnae lie tae him but a didnae tell the truth either! A dinnae know whit tae dae Rhona a jist...a wish Oz wiz here!"

"But then he'd probably beat him up or worse...kill him!"

"Naw, he wants the money! Whit's he done?" Just as they were sitting there, Lachie's phone rang, it was Oz.

"Oz pal, av been tryin' tae get ye aw night! Whit? Where are ye? Ye need tae get back here noo!!!" Rhona stood up and grabbed the phone out of Lachie's hand.

"Oz?" there was a pause, then he answered.

"Rhona?"

"Did you really steal money from someone? Because there was this man came here today and he said you did!" again there was a pause but this time it was much longer, she could almost hear him trying to figure out an answer.

"Yes!" was all he replied, after all that time that was all he could say? Rhona didn't know how to answer that, everything she knew about him felt like a lie.

"Where are you?" she finally managed to say.

"I'm by the Loch!"

***

Rhona ran as fast as she could down the little path towards the jetty where she could just about make out Oz's silhouette. As she slowed down to a fast walk, trying to get her breath back, she saw his face for the first time since he left her there a few days before. He'd shaved his beard but there was a generous amount of stubble growing in it's place, he looked scared, he looked sad but despite his recent revelation, she still loved him! She still wanted to disappear into his arms and feel his warmth, breathe in his scent, kiss his soft lips! And now they were standing face to face by the moonlight, a familiar setting they found themselves in. "Hey!" he mumbled as they stood, just looking at one another.

"Hello Oz!" she nodded and slipped her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. "So, you owe me an explanation!" he hung his head and she could hear his breathing, it was unsteady, nervous.

"When I was twenty one, I set up my own photography business, taking shots for weddings and christenings and stuff you know? I was good at it, my business went from strength to strength. I had a good reputation, I was making lots of money, I had my own studio and website and...then one day I got a job to go out to Andreas Delfino's place, he's a very well known...shall we say...businessman in Miami and you do not cross him. Well I did so...he wanted me to do a family picture for his Christmas card that year. I met his daughter, Catalina, she was young and pretty and very high maintenance! She asked me out, I declined, she asked me out again, again I turned her down. Until one day Mr Delfino threatened to ruin my business if I didn't make his little girl happy, I wasn't interested and I'm not into leading people on! But I did as I was told, I went out with her, the more I went out with her the more she wanted me and it just got worse and worse. I was scared to break it off, but eventually I did find the courage to do so, and she took it very badly!"

"What happened?" Rhona felt her heart thumping in her chest as Oz continued.

"She went to daddy, he got mad, did what he promised and ruined my business! He trashed my studio, destroyed all my photographs and my cameras. I had nothing left, I rented out the space so I had to pay for the damages, I was broke and I couldn't afford the rent on my apartment either so I got kicked out! I went back to my mother's in the countryside and got a job cleaning pools. Then one day I got a call out to Delfino's place, he was having an engagement party for his daughter and wanted the pool cleaned, really all he wanted was to rub my nose in it! Catalina took great pleasure in treating me like something on the bottom of her shoe, I got so mad I wanted to punish them! I remembered one night Catalina rambled on about her father's safe combination being her date of birth and at the time I wasn't remotely interested. But that day, when I was so close to the room he kept it in, I was tempted! The last straw for me was when Catalina came out and pushed me into the pool in front of all her friends. So I took my chance when Mr Delfino came out and scolded her. I went to the safe, why no one was around I'll never know but I went ahead and opened it! I took what was inside, stuffed it into my bag and...I ran! I got on a plane to London and hung out there, then to Edinburgh...then I found myself travelling on a train from Glasgow to a place called Tavish Brig and...well you know the rest!" he blushed and looked away.

"What was in the safe?" Rhona breathed and closed her eyes briefly, as she looked at him he seemed like a stranger to her now, not the man that saved her life a couple of weeks ago!

"$800,000!" he replied in a flash.

"So you wanted to spend it all before you died or..."

"About that..." he screwed up his face, "I er..."

"You're not dying are you?" she said, mostly to herself.

"I am going to die! When that guy who came here, Deano, gets to me? I'm a dead man! So I wasn't telling the truth, but it wasn't a lie either! I'm on borrowed time!"

"I don't know who you are anymore!" she began to cry and bit her lip, "You stood on that sand over there, and you told me you were dying! My heart shattered into a million little pieces because even though we'd only just met, you meant the world to me and the thought of losing you...it was killing me the whole time we were together! These past couple of weeks, I...I couldn't fully enjoy or...or...embrace because I knew you weren't going to be around for long and...how could you???" tears blinding her, she stepped forward and balled both her fists, punching him with all of her strength on the chest. Pounding him until the strength drained out of her and he was holding her arms gently, she dropped to her knees as he let her go. Sitting on the jetty looking out at the water, she felt an eerie calm wash over her. "Did you ever love me? Or was that a lie too?" her voice took on a bitter tone.

"I think you know the answer to that! I think you felt it!"

"So what were you going to do? Fake your own death? I mean, you had to know the game would be up when you were still alive and you didn't die!"

"I wasn't going to stick around! I was always going to leave...and then you'd just assume I'd passed away either at home or during my travels I...hadn't really thought it through, only that I was never staying here for good! Falling in love with you was not on the agenda!" he knelt down in front of her and grasped her chin gently with one hand, lifting her face up to meet his own. "It's all your fault you know! You had to go and try to drown yourself, make me rescue you and steal my heart in the process! Why couldn't you just stay hidden within the walls of this old hotel? So I would never see you, then I could have gone on my merry way and we'd all have been better for it!" she pulled her head out of his grip roughly.

"I didn't make you take that money and I didn't make you save me! You could have just walked on by!" She stood up, shakily, as he did the same. They were facing each other once again as she added, "You should have just left me here to drown, because my God the way I feel right now? I wish I'd died that night to spare all the pain you've caused me!" As she ran back to the hotel, leaving Oz standing alone on the jetty, she couldn't believe that even after everything he'd just told her...she still loved him, more than anyone she'd ever loved, even though he was a liar! Rhona did not sleep a wink that night, after telling her family what Oz had told her, Lachie wanted to break his arms and his legs! Her father wanted to break his neck! But it was her mother who told them all to go to bed and that things would look better in the morning. She was wrong about that as Rhona felt even worse, especially when she found her brother and Oz at each others' throats in the foyer of the hotel.

"A don't want tae see ye in here again, awright???" Lachie growled as Oz stood his ground despite being half Lachie's size.

"I just wanna say goodbye to her and then I'll go!"

" A wiz right aboot you all along!" Lachie sneered, "Yer a bad yin! A wiz right!" as he raised his fist to hit Oz, Rhona stood in between them.

"STOP!!! Lachie no!"

"Rhona he lied tae us aw!!!" Lachie tried to push her out of the way.

"I didn't lie, I just embellished the truth! Rhona, I just wanted to tell you that I love you and I don't regret you coming into my life! If Deano comes back just tell him I left for Loch Ness to find the monster or...something!"

"What? That's it?" Rhona looked at him with wide eyes as Lachie circled them like a wild animal waiting to pounce on his prey.

"Come oan Rhona can a hit him noo?"

"No Lachie!" she turned back to Oz and put her hands on her hips, "Don't I even get an apology?"

"You know I'm sorry, does it even need saying?"

"Just go Oswald, if that's even your real name! Go and never come back, have fun spending your blood money! Don't forget that someone died for that money, someone who was probably like you once!" As Rhona left Oz standing in the foyer, with Lachie desperate to tear him apart, she just wanted him out of her life so that she could try and move on. She headed for the Loch, the jetty always made her feel safe despite the history she had there. It made her think about Oz, but it wasn't bad memories, it was at a time when Oz was a good guy, her hero! As she walked towards the edge she spotted something sitting there. As she got closer she realised it was a backpack, Oz's backpack with a note attached to it. She picked it up and saw that the note was addressed to her...

Dear Rhona,

You'll find in this bag $780,699, that's £585,122.19. It's all yours to do whatever you like with! I don't want it, all I want is you! I know I lied and for that I am sorry but what I'm not sorry about is falling in love with you and having these two weeks with you! When you asked me to stay for good, I panicked, the truth was going to come out and I was scared! Deano will come back and I will die! So I'm going to run, he'll never know I gave you the money, it's the only way I can prove to you just how much I love you! If the circumstances had been different, I would so have married you! I would have loved to have children with you, grow old with you and just have you in my arms forever! But like I told you once, I'm not worthy of you. I'm not a nice guy, I've done some bad things and you're too good for me! I will always love you Rhona, always! No other woman will ever compare! You are my true love and I will die wanting, whenever that may be!

All my love, Oz xxxx

Rhona looked inside the bag, she'd never seen so much money! She'd never seen US dollars before either, there was a mixture in there of dollars and sterling! She grabbed the backpack and ran towards the hotel, but not before hiding it in Lachie's special place under the boards between a concrete block and the sand.

***

Oswald Truman sat on a bench at Tavish Brig station. Waiting to head back to Glasgow and then on to somewhere else, he was going to close his eyes and put his finger on a map. That way Rhona could never find him and Deano would leave her alone! He'd spent some of the money on his travels and kept a little to get him to a safe place, but the rest was Rhona's. Yes he'd lied, it was a despicable lie, telling someone you loved that you were dying! He should have told the truth about the money, he should have come clean from the start and maybe he and Rhona could have gotten past it. But now it was all over, he would never see Rhona again, he would leave her in peace! The next train wasn't for another forty five minutes, so he would wait here, wait and see where his next adventure would be! He hoped that Lachie would be big enough to deal with Mr Delfino's lackey! He hoped that with him out of the way, Rhona would be safe! Was this the best plan of action? Run away? Of course it was, Deano couldn't trace the money back to Rhona and if Oz stayed, he would know the money was there in the hotel somewhere and he'd never leave the Boyles alone! No, running away was the best thing to do this time!

"So you know what you're doing?" Rhona looked down at her brother as he seemed to be rather shell shocked.

"Aye, Aye a think so!" he shook his head roughly and then nodded.

"There's no time to have doubts here Lachie! You know where the bag is, just stick to the plan okay?"

"Whit are ye gonnae dae?" Lachie gave her a worried look.

"What I should have done in the first place!" she replied sadly. As she hugged her brother and left him to deal with the money, she wondered if she was doing the right thing. But when she got to the train station and Oz was sitting there all on his own, she knew she was doing the right thing. He looked so lost, so small, this was the man she loved! This was the man she was risking everything for, it was a gamble but if it worked, they could be happy together...she knew they could be! She sat down beside him and looked straight ahead, "Hi!" she said as he looked round.

"Rhona what..." she swivelled round to face him and placed her index finger on his lips.

"Don't say a word, let me speak! Okay so you lied about a couple of things, but who doesn't tell lies from time to time? And okay I was hurt, you really did hurt me but...all I know is that I love you and it hurts more when you're not around! I want you to stay and I know you're leaving because of the big bald guy that Lachie freaked out about, but I have a plan! And if it works? You get to stay, that's if...you want to!" she bit her lip and stared him down as he closed his eyes and opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He tried to form words, to utter some sort of sentence, but still he couldn't make a sound. "Oz?" she tried to find some sort of clue in his expression, she wanted to know what he was thinking. Then finally he spoke.

"Rhona, if I stay he will kill me! I took that money and I can't ever undo it!"

"And I turned you away and I can't ever undo that, but I can ask you to come back with me! All you have to do is say yes!" Oz wanted so badly to be with her, but his moment of madness was stopping him, that money!

"What about Deano?"

"Let me worry about that!" she smiled and kissed him softly on the lips.

"I'll never lie to you again, I promise!" Oz cupped her head in his hands and kissed her back. He wanted to believe that everything was going to be alright, but he had his doubts!

***

Lachie sat at the reception desk trying to look calm when the man from the previous day reappeared in the foyer. "Good day to you!" he nodded and glared at him menacingly. "Has there been any sign of Mr Truman today?" Lachie blinked and stood up slowly.

"A told ye yesterday and a'll tell ye again the day! A havnae heard of any Truman stayin' here and a should know because a run the reception awright? Noo dae a huvtae get the polis involved or whit?" the man seemed startled by the mention of police and staggered back.

"Police? Why would you do that? Look, all my employer wants is the money! There's no need for that!" he waved his hands in the air and smiled nervously.

"Well, a did find this bag sittin' oan the jetty this mornin'! A think somebody left it there, it's got dollars in it, dae ye recognise it?" Lachie lifted the backpack from under his desk and placed it in front of the man. His eyes lit up as he opened it and looked inside. Lachie added, "One other thing mind, there wiz a note wi it, seems like the person who left it there committed sidey-ways!" he handed the note to the man as he read it aloud.

"I can see no end to this, I am forever a wanted man! The only solution is death! Oswald Edward Truman."

"Av phoned the polis anyway, they're comin' tae dredge the Loch fur a body!" Lachie shook his head slowly and feigned a sad expression. The man frowned and looked in the bag again.

"And this is all the money that was in there?" Lachie gave him an offended look and pushed the bag towards him. This Deano character didn't seemed altogether convinced, the look of doubt on his face terrified Lachie.

"Aye, are ye callin' me a tea leaf or somethin'? Ye think a took yer money eh? Get tae France pal!" he bellowed and gestured for the man to leave.

"Thanks, I'll be on my way. On behalf of Andreas Delfino, thank you for your honesty and cooperation!" he half bowed and backed out of the hotel. Lachie had indeed taken some money out of it, only the sterling notes as Rhona had instructed. There was still a huge chunk of it left. Once again Lachie threw himself into his chair and swung around breathing a sigh of relief.

***

After getting the call that it was safe to return to the hotel, Rhona and Oz walked back from the train station hand in hand. As they stood at the gate leading up to the big old building, Oz felt hot tears fill his big blue eyes, "I've been an idiot!" he mumbled and wiped his face roughly.

"Well, you've got plenty of time to make up for it!" Rhona smiled and squeezed his arm gently, she nuzzled his neck and giggled.

"What?" he sniffed and kissed her head.

"It's just you and me now, no more lies, no more secrets!"

"Yeah, just you and me!" he smiled half-heartedly, but deep down he had a feeling that it wasn't going to be that simple. The thought of Deano returning was never too far from his mind!

⏮️Previous/Next⏭️

[rockingrobin69]

Losing, lost

Salt. Draco looked at the list, the one he spent over ten minutes writing, and which now comprised of two items: garlic and soy milk. What was the other—right, salt. And shampoo. The lemony one that Potter commented on, if he finds it again. And tomato sauce. Maybe spaghetti, so he can try to make—salt, he still didn’t write salt. Draco sighed, rubbed his eyes.

Focus, gods be damned. Fo-cus. This wasn’t so fucking hard. He had to finish here, so he could take a bloody shower, go to the shops and then… well. Who knows.

Even though he decided strictly against it not even fifteen minutes ago, Draco put down the pen. Reached for his pocket. Gave the black screen a little pet, for luck, took a deep breath… oh. Still nothing.

Fine. He didn’t expect anything yet. Didn’t expect anything, at all; it was Potter who came to him, Potter who said, it can only be us. That if he had any hopes of fooling the press, it had to be Draco’s hand in his, for whatever idiotic reason.

Even if he did wink afterwards. Even if he failed to explain exactly what this harebrained scheme would entail. Even if it’s been three whole weeks, and Draco was losing his absolute mind—

Urgh. He sighed, elbow sliding down the table till his cheek rested on the wood. The list, right in front of his nose, glared at him two itemed-ly. He still didn’t write salt.

Draco closed his eyes, about to embark on the worst five-minute wallow cruise, party of one, when the world erupted into flames. No, just his mobile, with the horrifying ringtone Potter set up. His hands shook so much that the entire thing jumped, hitting the table and then down to the floor; he dove after it, cursing quietly all the while, and when he finally hit the tiny green key he was on all fours.

“Po—Harry? Hello? Hello?”

“Draco?” his voice was crackly. The mobile slipped and fell a final time, with a thud. “Draco? Are you all right?”

“Yes, yes, I just, gods,” Draco’s head thunked on the floor next to the cursed device. It was so dirty down here. He really needs to hoover more. “Sorry, did you say something?”

“Hmm? No. nothing.”

But he could swear he heard something. If Potter was laughing at him, he will be sorry.

“Listen—”

“Hey, so—”

Draco hit his head again for good measure. “What? Sorry. You go.”

“I just wanted to know if I could come by later?”

“Erm. Why?”

“Wh… what do you mean, why?”

“I mean, why.” He was already on the floor, already out of his mind, so why not finally, finally ask. “There are no cameras in my flat. You said—the whole idea was to present an act, right? In front of someone?”

More muffled sounds. “Draco… can we talk about it in person? I can come over, and—”

“No.” He’s been playing the fool for too long. Losing sleep, losing focus and his goddamned mind. Losing, loser, lost. “Tell me now.”

“I... fuck. I dream about that lemony smell.”

“Pardon?”

“Your—the shampoo. I dream about it. Every night. Wishing I had… that you were with me. Draco? You still there?”

“Yes.” But he had no idea what to say. What to make of this without being delusional, without breaking his own heart. “I don’t know what that means.”

Potter sighed. It was so loud in his ear. “It means I’m not just doing it for the press. That it was never actually…”

“Come over, then,” Draco said before it all becomes too much. “Tonight. I can cook, that spaghetti you liked. I’m going to the shops, could pick up… yes?”

“Yes.” He sounded relieved. Something in Draco’s belly writhed with dreadful joy.

“Good. See you later.” He had to finish the list, take a bloody shower. Then maybe get to the bottom of this whole thing. Draco picked himself up from the floor, sat back down, grabbed the pen. Okay.

Joy was a very distracting feeling, it turned out. He never got salt in the end, but they never actually noticed.    

For my dearest @phoebe-delia, 700 words for ‘It can only be us’. By the way, you can prompt me too!    

[cjsinkythoughts]

The Shield

Paring: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 5595

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, John Walker, Emotions, Character Death, Mentions of Blood, I know people had a hard time with that last scene so please take caution because it is in this part! GIF at end is the ending scene, so be careful when you get towards the bottom! I feel like I’m forgetting some, so just know this one’s a bit more than the others.

A/N: Here it is, folks! The Part we’ve all been waiting for! It’s the longest one I’ve written so far but so much happened and I couldn’t find a better spot to end it than where the episode ended. Thank you all for being patient with me today. I know I didn’t get this out as quickly as I would’ve the past few weeks, but you guys are so awesome! Seriously! I love that you understand I do have a life and work comes first! Thank you, thank you!

This Part is a doozy, guys, and…I’m sorry? But not really. I’m SUPER excited to see where this is gonna go, especially considering Episode 5 is supposed to be the real tear jerker. I can’t believe there’s only two more episodes! I’ve grown so attached to these characters just in the past month! I’m so glad I’m able to share some of my thoughts and feelings with you guys, too! You’re honestly the best!

I’ll be doing more One Shots this week, so look for those on the Masterlist. I’m still taking requests for them, so if there’s anything you want explored about the reader and her relationships that you don’t think will be explored in this Series, just ask and I’ll try to add it to the One Shot list.

As always, this isn’t beta’d so please excuse any mistakes! Thank you for reading, be kind to yourself and others, enjoy this part and stay tuned!

FATWS Masterlist

cjsinkythoughts Masterlist

(I couldn’t decide on which GIF to use because there are so many good ones! Thank you Tumblr Creators!)

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

“Doll…hey. Doll. C’mon, sweetheart. We gotta get moving.”

You cracked your eyes open begrudgingly, squinting up to see Bucky’s amused grin, head tilted and eyes soft. “Huh?”

He chuckled as you rubbed your eyes, confusion lifting an eyebrow. “The funeral. Zemo said we’ve gotta go if we’re gonna make it in time.”

“Wait, but…huh?”

Sniggering again at your reaction, he held up your phone. “You passed out in the middle of a chapter, sleepyhead.” He teased lightly, grabbing your hand and gently pulling you to sit upright. “It’s almost been an hour.”

You huffed tiredly, stretching and placing your feet on the floor, taking back the phone he held out to you. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You haven’t been sleeping well.” He stated, like it should’ve been obvious. “How’s your arm feeling?”

“Better than earlier. It’s just sore. That’s all.”

He studied your features for any hint of a lie. Not finding one, he nodded, holding out his hand. “Okay. But tell me if it starts bothering you.”

You placed your hand in his, marveling for a split second at how big his hands were compared to yours - something you noticed every time but still it never ceased to astound you. He tugged you up, and you looked up to meet his worried eyes, remembering his question.

“I will, Buck. Promise.”

He nodded, tilting his head towards the door. “C’mon, cuddle bug. We don’t wanna miss this.”

A groan passed your lips, but you nodded and followed Bucky out into the main room, where Sam chuckled at you from his spot at the table. “Sleeping beauty has finally awoken.”

You flipped Sam off groggily. “Are we going or not?”

“Do you wanna wake up s’more first?”

“No.” You answered the one armed brunette. “I’ll just splash some water on my face or something. I’ll be fine by the time we get there. Where’s-”

“Looking for me?”

Zemo strolled out, now dressed in that coat of his, that smug smirk on his lips. You scowled. “I wish I wasn’t.”

Sam stood up, standing subconsciously between you and Zemo. “Let’s head out.”

You nodded in agreement, shooting the Baron one more glare, before following him out the door and into the city, Bucky right besides you, shoulders brushing as if you weren’t ignoring him just hours prior.

The walk was mostly silent, a few jests between Bucky and Sam plus a couple comments from Zemo here and there. You talked about strategy, with Sam bringing up the fact that he wanted to try convincing Karli to step down. Zemo didn’t look pleased with the arrangement, but both you and Bucky relented, agreeing to let Sam at least try.

It wasn’t until you were close to your destination according to Zemo that anything exciting happened.

“Karli Morgenthau is too dangerous for you guys to be pulling this shit!”

Hell. No. 

The moment the voice registered in your brain, your jaw tightened, your teeth starting to grind together as you held back the very not nice things you wanted to say. 

“Ah! How’d you find us now?” Bucky called out, tucking you into his side protectively, and a little possessively you noted, as Walker and Hoskins came down the steps, the two groups nearing each other.

You were relieved when the subject of Zemo escaping jail went by relatively quickly, Walker latching onto the fact that you were going to talk to Karli instead of focusing on the escaped fugitive in front of him.

You very nearly punched him when he ran in front of you after Sam told him the plan, making the four of you stop in your tracks, but Bucky’s arm tightened around your shoulders, holding you in place next to him.

“You’re gonna let him do this?” Walker questioned Bucky in disbelief, self righteous judgement practically dripping from your tone. “You’re gonna let your partner walk into a room with a super soldier alone?”

Bucky’s jaw ticked. “He’s dealt with worse. And he’s not my partner.”

“And you?” Walker narrowed his eyes towards you. “I expected more from you; the last original Avenger.”

You snorted, shaking your head. He obviously didn’t know how chaotic the Avengers were. What Sam was proposing? You’d seen it a million times with Steve alone. Not considering Nat, Clint, Thor, even Bruce and Tony. All of them willing to try to negotiate before running in, bullets raining and hell rising. “First, I’m not the last original. I’m technically not even an original. Second, I trust Sam with my life and I’m standing by his decision. He’s my brother. As a soldier, I would’ve thought you understood that.”

Before he could respond, Sam stepped around Bucky. You saw the reluctance in Walker’s eyes as he admitted a temporary defeat once Hoskins agreed with Sam. The fact that he was so unwilling to try to save more lives - including Karli’s - made the truth that he wasn’t, and would never, be your Captain harden deeper into your heart.

Ignoring Walker’s confusion as you followed the little girl Zemo befriended - which was weird, you’d admit, but it was getting you closer to Karli - Bucky’s arm slipped from your shoulders, hand sliding across your back and skimming down your arm to grip your hand. Even through your jacket, you felt goosebumps erupt along his fingers’ trail.

You finally came to your destination and you let out a small breath. If everything went smoothly, this mission could finally be over and you could go home and take a bath, get take out, get out a bottle of wine, watch TV, and just relax.

What a dream.

“Hey.” You stopped Sam before he could go through the entrance of where the girl said Karli was, holding his forearm. “You want me to come with you?”

He shook his head. “I think it’ll be better if I go alone.”

You nodded, letting go without any hesitance. “Okay. Be careful.”

“Always.” And despite all you’ve been through, no matter how many times he’s followed Steve’s lead in doing something stupid, you knew he meant it. You nodded again, before he disappeared around the corner.

You leaned back against the wall, Bucky once again wrapping an arm around your shoulder now that you weren’t walking - he liked having mobility on the move, hence the reason he held your hand instead - leaning besides you and pulling you against his chest.

Ten minutes. You tried looking at Bucky’s watch, which was on the wrist of the arm around you. He noticed and turned his wrist slightly, bending his elbow more, which brought you even closer to him, showing you the time.

Giving a small sigh, you nodded slightly and dropped your head back against his bicep, your hands shoving in your pockets, one of your feet coming up to rest against the wall. Bucky shifted to your other side so he could stand in front of the doors to where Karli and Sam were, pulling you against his back, arms wrapping around your shoulders tightly.

It was a long ten minutes. You kept eyeing Walker, and you couldn’t help the anger burning through you as he held the shield in his hands. That damn shield. It wasn’t his. It would never be his. And he would never understand it. The fact that the shield didn’t make Captain America. The shield isn’t what made Steve a good man. Not even the Serum did. He already was one. Steve made the shield what it was, not the other way around.

But then you remembered a conversation you had, years ago, and your eyes flitted up to Bucky’s hardened face, the brunette staring intensely at the ground.

~

You didn’t get it. You were confused. You knew how important Barnes - Bucky - was to Steve. But apparently you didn’t understand it quite yet.

You watched from the entrance of the hallway, leaning against the wall, as Bucky went under once more.

Steve stood there for a moment longer, before turning and walking towards you. “Why’d you do it?”

He raised an eyebrow at you while you turned to walk with him down the hall. “Do what?”

“Give up the shield. And don’t say it doesn’t belong to you. It does. Howard gave it to you. You’re the reason it’s…a symbol.”

He hummed. “And what exactly is it a symbol for, honey?”

You scoffed. “Uh, freedom? Justice? Resilience? The defense of the whole life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness thing?”

He stopped, facing you with a strange expression on his face, thoughtful. “I dropped it because I can’t be that anymore. Not right now. People don’t have the same beliefs they used to have. How can I stand up for freedom and let the Sokovia Accords track every person they deem a threat, just like HYDRA tried doing? How can I be a symbol for justice and let Bucky take the fall for something that he wasn’t in control of? I can’t. And until the world is ready to change…I can’t be Captain America.”

~

And suddenly, it seemed to click. Steve gave up the shield for Bucky because the world wasn’t ready to admit it was wrong. Just like Sam gave up the shield for himself and his family because the world wasn’t ready for the truth that would come with him becoming Captain America.

God…when did a metal circle become so complicated?

“What’s goin’ on in that pretty lil’ head’a yours?” His whisper in your ear startled you out of your thoughts, his nose brushing against your temple tenderly as he placed a chaste kiss on your cheek.

You looked up at him and shook your head. Of all the things Steve gave up, he never gave up Bucky. And it used to confuse you, but you understood then. His blue eyes sparkling with curiosity and slight concern, his fingers tracing patterns along your collarbone with a barely-there touch that was so light it didn’t seem to exist. You finally understood. Not just Steve’s decision, but Sam’s too. And maybe you didn’t understand it fully, and that was okay, because you weren’t them, so you never would, but you understood a little bit.

“Nothing.” You shook your head, keeping your voice down so the others couldn’t hear, the conversation being a private one, “I’m just waiting for this to be over.”

He hummed, nodding in agreement, setting his chin on your head. “Me too.”

Walker started pacing the room about half way through, getting too antsy for your liking. “Shhh.” Bucky mumbled under his breath, feeling you tense as Walker started talking. “It hasn’t been ten minutes, John. Just sit tight.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t patronize me.”

“He knows what he’s doing.” Bucky stated confidently, straightening slightly from his leaning position, arms falling from your form. The two of you exchanged glances as Walker checked the clock over on the far wall, blocked from your view.

“I’m going in.” Walker strode across the room, heading for the entrance, no doubt willing to steam roll anything - anyone - in his way.

Bucky stopped him with a hand on his chest. You glanced back and forth between the two as Walker spoke, arms crossed tightly over your chest. “Buck…we promised him ten minutes.” You reminded him, seeing his resolve crumble a bit. You could guess he was thinking of the nightmares. The people he couldn’t save. The blood he already considered on his hands.

Walker used his moment of hesitation, shoving past him roughly. “I’m not waiting.”

“John!”

“Walker!”

You followed after him, you and Bucky arguing with him and Hoskins about giving Sam more time, but it was too late.

“Karli Morgenthau! You’re under arrest!”

“Fuck.” You hissed out when you saw Sam’s panicked expression, looking at you confused. Walker was flown across the room when Karli punched him, Bucky shoving Hoskins out of the way to run after her.

“Y/N-”

You threw your hands up. “I tried, Sam! C’mon!”

You and Sam ran over to some stairs, turning corners and trying to remember what the building looked like from outside to cut her off, but you only ran into Bucky again. 

“I wish we had the layout or something.” You grumbled. “We were that close-”

“We’re not done yet, doll.” Nodding, you followed the boys out, Bucky pausing every so often to try to hear anything. “I’ve got gunshots.” At that, the three of you took off towards the sound, Bucky leading the way.

Just around the corner from where Bucky heard the gunshots, you thought you saw a couple people slip around another bend. Noticing you had stopped, Bucky backtracked. “You okay?’

“Yeah.” Deciding it wasn’t worth the pursuit, you turned to him and nodded towards the doorway Sam already went through. He gave you a look, but nodded and the two of you jogged into the room.

You sighed heavily, seeing Zemo knocked out on the floor, Walker standing over him and broken vials that were previously full of, what you assumed was, the Serum. Hoskins ran in right after you, meaning no one but Walker and Zemo knew what happened. Meaning you would probably never get the full, true story.

What fun it is to work with manipulators and liars.

********************

“I don’t like him.” Bucky grumbled, the two of you walking up to the place you were staying in, Bucky holding the door open for you.

“I know you don’t, Buck. I don’t either.” You had asked Bucky to go with you to get some fresh air once you got back, Zemo having woken up a few minutes after and Walker and Hoskins had to make a call or something official like the good soldiers they were. “He’s hiding something.”

“You think?” Bucky scoffed, giving you a look.

You rolled your eyes. “I mean…I don’t know. When we found him and Zemo…my gut twisted.”

He nodded in understanding, his face twisting into a scowl. “Yeah. Mine did too.”

You stopped him before you could walk through the door to the main room. “Do me a favor?” He nodded again with a little hum. Catching his chin between your fingers, your free hand moved to smooth out the creases between his brow. “Stop brooding so much. It makes me worried.”

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, features softening slightly. “Are you really gonna leave in the morning? I know you’ve had a lot of people telling you to take a break, and it’s selfish for me to ask you to stay, but…I dunno if I can finish this without you.”

“I-” You sighed, ducking your head as you thought of a response, before looking up in his wide eyes, begging for you to stick around longer. “Let’s just finish the day and see what happens next. Okay?”

He bit his lip, nodding slightly. You gave him a smile, before tugging on his hand. “I need a drink.”

He chuckled at that. “That I can fix, doll.” He, again, opened the door for you, and the two of you walked in.

“What a gentleman. Straight outta the 40’s.” You joked, making him roll his eyes.

He took off his jacket, heading to the kitchen, while you sat on the opposite side of the island. “Somethin’s not right about Walker.”

Sam gave you two an amused look. “You don’t say.”

“Well, I know a crazy when I see one.” He opened the lid of the bottle he grabbed, starting to pour two glasses of whiskey for the both of you. “Because I am crazy.”

You rolled your eyes as Sam responded, “can’t argue with that.”

“You shouldn’t have given him the shield.”

Giving Bucky a disapproving look over the rim of your glass, you sipped your drink, narrowing your eyes when he ignored you. “I didn’t give him the shield.”

“Well Steve definitely didn’t.”

Your glass slammed down on the counter. Why did he have to bring this up right now? Seriously? You were just having a nice conversation about places you wanted to visit while taking a walk outside. Why was he suddenly snapping?

Before you could scold him, the doors burst open, making your head whip over as Walker stormed in, “ordering” you to hand over Zemo.

You stayed sitting, leaning on the counter and facing the opposite wall as Sam told him off, giving an amused snicker as you sipped your drink. Bucky sat besides you, facing Walker, and you recognized from the angle he was positioning himself that he was blocking you from Walker’s view, whether intentional or not.

You raised an eyebrow, turning in interest when Walker put down the shield, knowing Sam wasn’t about to fight the man. What an ego the blonde had.

Before anything could happen, however, a spear pierced through the air, lodging in the pillar next to Walker’s head.

Your frustration with Bucky’s comment flew out of your head as Ayo and a few other Dora Milaje walked in. Bucky sat up straighter and you stood up, leaning ever so slightly against his arm.

You nearly facepalmed, a sound of complete disbelief leaving you as Walker introduced himself. Sam looked over at you two, an entertained, slightly incredulous smile on his face.

Sam tried warning him. He really did. But Walker, you’ve come to find, was an arrogant, egotistical narcissist who only wanted to win and would do whatever it takes to do so. Even when there wasn’t really a winner. At least, not in that situation. It seemed that Walker liked ignoring the gray area in the world, which wasn’t good. Not in the least.

Which is why you couldn’t really feel sorry for the man. You saw it coming as soon as he told them they didn’t have jurisdiction. And the moment he touched Ayo?

You put your chin on Bucky’s shoulder - who had stood up from his spot - watching the Dora Milaje kick Walker’s ass, wincing and cringing mockingly at the right moments, making Bucky smirk at you.

“We should do something.” Sam said, although he didn’t look thrilled about the prospect.

Bucky crossed his arms. “Looking strong, John!”

You gave a slight snort, not wanting to encourage anything, but unable to hold in your amusement. Bucky winked at you, clinking his cup of whiskey with your own, before taking a gulp.

“Bucky.” 

You huffed and stepped back at Sam’s tone. “C’mon, Buck.”

“Fine.” Bucky grunted. “But ‘M not happy about it.”

Soon, the three of you, plus Walker and Hoskins, were all occupied with a member of the Dora Milaje. You knew you couldn’t take them; they were on a higher level that Natasha, and you could barely beat her. But you weren’t necessarily trying to win.

It was a strange fight, knowing that no one - except Walker, probably - actually wanted to hurt anyone. Of course, that didn’t stop one of them from exploiting your injured shoulder that she spotted rather quickly. The hits were quick and precise, the tip of her spear cutting along the graze, hitting the spot just perfect enough to reopen it. The stitches that had been placed only a couple days ago ripped, making you wince and clutch your now bleeding shoulder.

“Oh fuck.” You groaned. “You were always good with those things.”

She gave you an almost apologetic look, before she looked over to Ayo, who stepped through the room towards the bathroom where Zemo had locked himself in during the chaos.

When you caught sight of the shoulder thing she did to Bucky, his metallic arm now laying on the floor, his eyes wide and his stance stunned, your jaw nearly dropped. You guessed it made sense that they had a way to do that, but, still. None of you were expecting it.

“Did you know they could do that?” Sam asked once they started leaving, Bucky picking up his arm and connecting it to his shoulder.

“No.” The arm whirred as he swung it, getting it back to normal.

You couldn’t help the little giggle that left you, making Bucky raise an eyebrow at you. You tried holding in more laughs, but they just kept coming. “She-she...she disarmed you!”

Bucky rolled his eyes as you chortled, holding your stomach and bending over. “Ha ha. Very funny.”

“Oh come on!” You straightened and wiped your eyes. “That was good! Wasn’t it, Sammy?”

Sammy chuckled and nodded. “I’ll admit, it was pretty good. This, however, is not.”

Your laughter died as Sam made his way over to the bathroom, the light air that came with your cackles dissipating as quickly as it came.

“I can’t believe he pulled an El Chapo.”

You stared at the drain that was uncovered - large enough for Zemo to slip inside and escape. He did it. The son of a bitch finally did it. It took him long enough. You would’ve betted against him days ago.

“I can.” Bucky turned and grabbed your hand. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

*********************

“I thought you told them.”

Bucky looked up from wrapping your shoulder, an eyebrow raised. “What?”

“I thought you told them. The Dora Milaje. Wakanda. T’Challa. I thought you told them about Zemo.”

He leaned back with a sigh. “It was kinda a last minute decision. You know that. You were there.”

You nodded. “I do. But I also know what they’ve done for you. Shuri and Ayo. I was there for that, too. And you know what he did to them. To their country. Their king.”

“I know, I know. I almost died several times because of it.”

Your eyebrows pinched in confusion. “So why-”

“I thought it’d be quick. I thought, maybe, I could do it without them finding out and then we could get to Karli and they wouldn’t be disappointed. Win win.”

Your cheek caught between your teeth as you thought. “You could’ve just asked-”

He shook his head. “They would’ve said no. You know that.”

“Okay. Fine. Yes. I know that. But…but giving them a warning would’ve been better than this.” He hung his head, closing his eyes. “Bucky. Hey,” hooking a finger under his chin, you tilted his head back up to look at you. “I know it’s been hard for you. Everything has. And I’m sorry I dragged you into this. I shouldn’t have let you come along. You should be healing, and it’s my fault you’re not.” He opened his mouth, face scrunching up in disagreement, but you shook your head. “It’s true. I just…I didn’t know it would come this far.” You gnawed on your bottom lip studying those captivating eyes, before sighing. “Which is why I’m not leaving.”

He perked up, those pretty eyes going wide, jaw slackening. “You-you’re not?!”

You shook your head. As much as you wanted to run away, you couldn’t. It wouldn’t be right. “It wouldn’t be fair to you or Sam. I promised to help, and I brought you into it. So I’m gonna stay.

“Are you, uh…are you sure? You don’t hafta if you don’t wanna, doll. I know I kinda pushed you earlier, but-”

“I’m sure Buck.” You nodded firmly. “Just…do something for me?”

“I dunno if I can promise not brooding, sweetheart.”

You giggled at his words. “Not that. Just…stop giving Sam a hard time. About the shield. Please.”

His soft features hardened and he scowled. “If he didn’t give it up-”

“He thought it was going to the museum. I told you about that, remember? I told you we’d go when I got back.”

Giving a slight nod, he sighed. “We never did.”

“We will. But, I’m serious, Buck. Please. It’s not his fault. He did exactly what Steve did.” At Bucky’s confused look, you pursed your lips, looking down at his hands, starting to play with his fingers. “Remember how I was thinking during those ten minutes we had?” He nodded. “I was thinking about how Steve gave the shield back to Tony. After saving you. In Siberia. You remember that?” Another nod was given, so you continued. “It was for you, James. Because you made him realize that he didn’t want to be the face of a country that preached one thing, but did another. And that’s what Sam did. He did it for his family. For himself. Because no one wants to fight for a country that goes against your personal beliefs, no matter what they say.”

“I-I don’t understand.” Bucky’s eyes squinted, his brow creasing as he tried processing what you were telling him.

“That’s okay. Not everyone will. Really only they can understand their own reasoning. But you have to try to understand that he did what he thought was best for himself. For Steve. For the shield. And I know - dammit do I know - that it’s the last thing left of him. But it is just metal. Isn’t it? Steve’s the reason it is what it is. No one else. And no one is going to change that.”

Bucky took a breath, glossy, worried eyes meeting yours. “Walker’s going to ruin it. I know he is. I can feel it. Everything Steve worked for. I don’t care about Captain America. I care about the kid from Brooklyn who wanted to make a difference, no matter how little he was. I trusted him. I followed him through bullets and blood, with only that shield between us and them. He was home on a battlefield in Italy across the ocean from New York. And that shield was the welcome mat. It doesn’t matter what it says, what it looks like…but it protected my home when I couldn’t. But now? I feel like it’s tearing my home down. Pulling out the bricks. And it hurts. It was never about the shield, Y/N. It was always about the man it protected when I couldn’t be there for him. And now?”

Gathering him in your arms as he trailed off, you gave a couple little sniffles, pressing your face in his hair, nails scratching the nape of his neck lightly. “I’ll be your welcome mat, Buckaroo.” You offered.

He shook his head, pulling away to hold your face between his hands. “No, sweetheart. You’re not the welcome mat. You’re the new bricks replacing the old. You’re…you’re my home, now, doll.”

You swallowed thickly, unable to handle the rush of emotions that just poured through you, the sudden change in topic making you feel more vulnerable than you’d like. You leaned forwards, placing a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth, feeling him go lax in your arms. “And you’re mine.” You murmured softly, before getting up and heading out for the room, unable to stay any longer. You still had a mission to do. One that became even more desperate with Zemo loose, Walker unhinged, and Karli being so close.

******************

There was a silent agreement to not bring up your conversation. Not yet, at least. Sam had eyed you both when you came out of the room, saying you were ready to get moving, but he didn’t say anything either.

None of you really knew where you were going, only what you had to do. Find Zemo and get to Karli before Walker could. Both of which were a lot easier said than done.

Until Sam got a call from Sarah, who told him Karli contacted her personally and threatened her and her sons. She left a contact number for Sam, evidently wanting to meet. His phone dinged not a minute after he texted the number.

“She said come alone.”

“Well that’s not happening.” You opposed, crossing your arms.

Bucky nodded with your sentence. “We’re coming with you.”

Sam didn’t say anything against it, the three of you exchanging glances, before heading out to the location, changing into your tactical suits along the way.

Karli didn’t seem to mind you and Bucky tagging along, and you understood why the moment she mentioned not killing Sam because he wasn’t hiding behind a shield. It was a distraction. They were going after Walker.

It was confirmed only moments later when Sharon contacted Sam. “Looks like he found them, or maybe they found him.”

As soon as Sam announced that it was Walker, you jumped into action, Sam disabling Karli for just the right amount of time for you to get a head start. “I’ll send you the location. Go.” He told Bucky, who nodded and took off in his super soldier sprint. “You hitching a ride?”

You rolled your eyes at his slight tease. “I hate this so much.” You grumbled, catching his hand as he took off in the air with his bird costume. He held onto you tightly, like the millions of times you’d done this before, although it didn’t make you any less dizzy, traveling that fast, that high, with only his hold keeping you from dropping. “You’re lucky I trust you so much!”

He gave a small chuckle at your shout over the wind. “We’re landing! Brace yourself!” You followed his order, just in time for him to break through the glass ceiling of the building Walker was in. The both of you landed on a platform on the staircase just as a Flag Smasher was thrown through double glass doors, down the stairs, and into a power box. Your eyes went wide as Walker strolled down the steps, oozing a confidence that made you nervous. The moment Walker stopped the Flag Smasher - the Super Soldier - from hitting him with the pipe, you knew even before he twisted it like a pretzel.

“Sam.” You breathed out. You couldn’t even do anything, only watching as the Flag Smasher got up from being thrown again, and running down a hall.

“What’d you do?”

“They got Lemar.” Was the only reply he gave, brushing past you and Sam. You gave Sam a look, but he just jerked his head down the hall, in the direction the Flag Smasher went and the way Walker started heading. You nodded, willing to drop it for now to save someone’s life, but you were so bringing it up once this was done.

Jogging into the room, you should’ve expected the ambush in the room, but, to be honest, they didn’t take as much advantage as they could’ve, so it wasn’t too difficult of a fight. You had trained with Steve millions of times before, so you knew how to go against a Super Soldier. Granted, your Cap wasn’t trying to kill you while training, but it was better than nothing.

You protected your shoulder, knowing that was your weak point, while trying to disguise it so whoever you were fighting wouldn’t realize your Achilles’ Heel. Something you often found while dealing with Steve, and even Bucky, was that Super Soldiers, as quick as they were, tended to favor the super strength side of their enhancements. This made it easier for you to dodge the attacks, knowing most of your blows wouldn’t do much.

Knowing you wouldn’t be able to stay on the defensive for long, you decided to try to get an advantage over them. Disarming them and taking their knife was easy enough. A small advantage, yeah, but now you had a weapon, and you could work with that.

You weren’t exactly sure when Bucky joined the fight, but he did, immediately coming over to you when you body kicked your opponent, helping you up. “That was a Steve move.” Your eyes caught sight of the Flag Smasher behind him and you shoved his shoulder down, throwing your knife, making it land solidly in the man’s shoulder. Bucky looked up at you from his crouch, impressed. “And that was a me move.”

You shrugged. “I’m a visual learner.”

You, Sam, and Bucky were about to go for another round with the guys when a sickening crack sounded behind you, and you whipped around. 

Hoskins was against a split pillar, a crimson streak running down his forehead, head lolling to the side, lips red and cracked. The fight stopped as Walker rushed over to his friend, but you knew there was no way he survived. A punch from a Super Soldier? That hard?

Eyeing the Flag Smashers, you turned to Sam and Bucky when they started dispersing, Karli running out as well. They nodded towards you and the three of you took off after her, not wanting to let her get away again and, for you, at least, wanting to give Walker some time.

You weren’t expecting his grief to turn into such raw hatred. 

Running up to the city square, you didn’t actually see it happen. Just the aftermath. Which was good, considering you nearly threw up just seeing that.

You heard the change in Bucky’s breathing, barely recognizing the way he stepped in front of you, only realizing you stepped closer when you felt his sleeve against your palms, fingers tightly wrapped around his forearm. A choked sound came from somewhere, but you didn’t know it was you, even as Bucky reached his arm around to hold your waist, keeping you behind his shoulder. 

Tears leaked down your face silently, eyes unable to look away as Walker straightened, sliding the shield on his arm, too nonchalantly for someone who just murdered another in front of a crowd full of people, cameras pointed towards him.

The shield. That piece of metal you had been wondering so deeply about the past couple of weeks. The link to the first person you’d ever loved. Ruined. Tarnished. Stained.

You could barely breathe, your throat clenching so tightly it was a wonder you were able to get anything out at all.

“James…”