#I’ll add more later I was just playing nocturne while I was drawing and IDEAS HAPPENED

[knightfeared]

➤ MISC HEADCANONS. [ ; ] Childhood & Trauma Triggers. Humour as a Coping Mechanism. Hunter Teachings cut short with his Sudden Evacuation. Richter’s constant Fidgeting / Restless Hands.

◈ As a boy, he was confident, admittedly sheltered — capable but reckless. Undoubtedly proud of his family & their reputation, their skills, he had a naïve view of their expected duties though he knew what they entailed. He was trained by his mother closely, & to a young Richter Belmont, she was powerful & unstoppable, could do just about anything. He accompanied her on her hunts if they were low risk-level ones. If he wasn’t permitted to join, he’d always find a clever way to sneak loose & tail after her despite her warnings. When he was told not to do something, if it didn’t align with his stubborn interests, he would find a way to do what wasn’t advised. ( Please remember he was a child at this point. )

◈ In his youth, about up until Julia lost her focus, until she lost her life because of his reckless decisions to join her fight, he’s never had to face the consequences of his impulsive actions. With that, it causes him to close up, to take a more cautious approach to things moving forwards. He’s not as flashy, not as needlessly cocky unless he is confident a situation is in their favour.

◈ Certain things do act as trauma triggers for him moving forwards.

A trauma trigger is a stimulus that causes memories or reactions to severe or sustained trauma.

◈ Events that parallel too closely to the night his mother died can trigger a momentary freezing response from Richter, such as a sudden overwhelming amount of chaos during a time of celebration or when he finds himself abruptly cornered, knocked onto his back at any point during a fight. He snaps into momentary panic mode, where he assesses the situation, & wrestles between his urge to fight or flee. Situations where he’s left helpless off his feet are greatly avoided ( for this reason, it’s why he tries his best to keep his fighting style very fluid & constantly moving ) along with fireworks & cramped, claustrophobic spaces.

◈ Compared to how he used to behave as a child, who he is as a young man is vastly different — his personality has shifted somewhat. He’s more quiet, reserved, he observes & takes the time to study a situation before he decides to rush in to play hero unless it’s one that involves Maria or Tera. He’s also out of practice, building up a new routine with experience, having admitted he’s only ever had to fight supernatural beings a handful of times every few months, but with the events of Nocturne starting to brew, it’d escalated to multiple a night. With that sudden rise in tension, he has a habit of deflecting using his humour or sarcasm to make light of the situation. It helps him keep himself calm, collected, if he feels he has control over a situation through his use of sharpened, biting wit & playful banter. It also helps him focus in a way.

I am listing these here more for my own personal notes. I notice he does both from time to time — to lighten the mood or when he lashes out defensively to put distance. His words can be ill-timed, poor in tone, bearing one too many teeth.

◈ As for him not knowing what Night Creatures are, that can be chalked up to him not having access to his family’s Bestiary before he was abruptly sent off. While he was going through training under Julia’s hand, she was likely preparing to teach him everything more one day, but given her untimely end, he’s only had to learn what he could from Tera in France. From then in, his training continued on with Maria over the next few years but it mainly consisted more of a few Speaker teachings in passing & a lot more physical training with his mothers whip.

◈ He has a tendency to constantly fiddle with things even when he’s sitting idle. He needs to constantly be in motion for comforts sake, & there is a buried want to always be productive in some way, to stay sharp even if it’s meant to be a time of rest — going over simple dagger tricks, fidgeting with one between his gloved fingers or using the trees outside of Tera’s home as targets — Richter will go over accuracy & target practice with both his knives & whip out of well-practiced habit. It���s something he rarely needs to think on as he goes over the motions, helping him focus on sorting through his thoughts.

[holycow99]

石田お寿司 12/9/21 stream translation Part 8

This is not the full translation of the stream. I only translated the parts I could understand & interpret or parts I found interesting/important. I’m still a beginner in Japanese, so the translations may not be accurate. If you want to repost, please repost at your own risk.

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(t/n: ** means translation may not be accurate.)

*He started drawing choujin X.

I: I’m gonna do my work. It’s gonna be a work streaming onwards. Whoever is sleepy can sleep.

*Showing the screen.

I: This is the 2nd chapter. I’m doing this for the magazine. Even though I’ve done this chapter before, I’m still drawing it. This is what I’ve been doing.  Pitiful, isn’t it? I’m doing this because I want to though. Then, I’m gonna casually draw this for a bit.

C: Looks tough.

I: Not at all. Which page should I do? So exciting!

I: The bgm is called Cry by Queen Bee.

I: I wasn’t told to do this by Young Jump or anything. I voluntarily wanted to do it. I asked them to let me do it.

C: Tell us your favourite panel.

I: Hmm…I wonder. I don’t know.

I: I’ve been doing the manuscript by myself, along with the background as a challenge. When I was able draw the background pretty well, I thought, surprisingly, working this way was better. So, I got carried away and had fun drawing them. I drew too much to the point the pages piled up. It didn’t need these many pages. You can’t have these many pages for the comic, so it’s difficult. The 70 something pages for chapter 2 is gonna be compressed to fit the magazine. I feel embarrassed. I was like “what is this super big spread?!”

I: My goal is to update 3 chapters this month while creating chapter 2 ver 2, and there are coloured parts in between the pages for the magazine. I’m not supposed to do that either… It’s troublesome.

*Someone commented there’s a weird URL. (t/n: the highlight of the stream.)

I: There’s a weird URL? Should I delete it? Which one? Oh, it’s an R-18 URL. “Hot Girls and Boys”. This is definitely an adult URL! Maybe I should check out. Hahaha! I’ll pin this message! What should I do with it? Then…I’m blocking it.

C: Sensei, check it out for us.

I: I’ll take a look at it for a bit later. The virus might corrupt my manuscripts.

C: That’ll be a problem.

I: Do you mean me pinning the message? Oh, you mean my manuscript getting corrupted. That’s okay. It’ll be a corrupted version of chapter 2. The virus version. I have to quickly make ver.3 if that happens. Choujin X adult ver. Adult sites often put X in their URL. That kind of info came out when I searched about the letter ‘X’. Therefore, I wanna do that kind of collaboration, please. I’ll be waiting for it. To shueisha, To Ninohara Matsuo, please make it happen. I’m looking forward to your cooperation.

*Someone commented for him to try get his files corrupted by adult site’s virus for the 30,000 commemoration.

I: That’s a good idea! Try getting corrupted by pc virus. Let’s do it, by all means. Don’t hesitate to tell me any sites filled with virus.

*People commented they can see the comment being pinned.

I: It’s because it’s being pinned. Really? I can’t even unpin it! Why? Amazing. The comment is strong. How about If I randomly pin another comment? Is there any interesting comment? MM, comment something interesting.

*The comments had already been unpinned.

I: I don’t know whether MM is still here or not. They must use the word ‘On the contrary’ in the comment. Something like, “On the contrary, adult sites are…” That person only comment contradictory stuffs.

C: MM’s syntax.

I: That’s a nice one. “On the contrary,…” even though it isn’t. Has MM gone? I’m curious. Maybe he’s thinking of what “on the contrary” stuff to comment. “On the contrary, open the URL.” Haha. “On the contrary, try getting corrupted by the virus.” On the contrary, how about I spread the virus to you guys? You’ll see adult stuffs if you open it.

*Someone commented Ishida would be on Yahoo News if that happened.

I: That’s good. Let’s do it. I’ll add trying to spread the virus into the 30,000 subscribers’ commemoration proposal.

C: I can’t handle the virus.

I: That’s right. The pc will be heavy if there’s virus.

*Someone asked why he wanted to be a mangaka.

I: I’ve told this before, but because I didn’t wanna get a job. I thought it’d be easy being a mangaka. Then, I thought of retiring when I was in my 30s after I’ve earned enough money. Haha. I thought of having an easy life. These were my thoughts when I was 19. But reality is…how do I put it? There’s still more to life.

C: Is it as what you’ve planned?

I: Is it? I did become a mangaka. I’m amazed by that fact. I wondered whether I was gonna be one when I was aiming for it. I thought of being a mangaka and I really did become one.

C: What anime did you obsessed with lately?

I: I don’t have one. I’ve been watching movies only. I watch them if the anime is the laid-back, calming type.

*Ishida mentioned that Goubaru started doing something so passionately, but he couldn’t understand why Goubaru’s doing it. Goubaru tried to explain to Ishida but he was unable to understand what he’s doing anymore in the end. Ishida ended up giving advice to Goubaru.

(t/n: I couldn’t translate the part above properly, so I just summarized it.)

* The adult websites comment came back in the chat.

I: It’s here again. This thing is super famous. I’ve blocked them though. Should I block it? How should I do it? Report it or using moderator? What is moderator? Something like a management or some sort? Would it disappear if I report it?  

C: Moderator is someone who’d ban it for you.

I: I see. A guard. That’s good. But if the moderator is a nasty person, like S******, they’ll ban stuffs randomly. They’ll be playing around with it.

*Talking about the weird comment again.

I: Erotic websites also appear in my stream. Isn’t it amazing? The only thing I’ve got before was a URL for a ramen blog. I should’ve taken a look at the site secretly after that. It was a ramen blog, but the name of the blog was something related to excretion.

*Ishida imitating the ramen blog’s comment.

I: “I’ve written reviews about ramen that I ate.” The content is okay, but the blog name is…, but he might’ve been a good person. But he’s probably not if he put out his url there. Like what are you trying to promote? I’m still regretting not taking a look at it.

*Ishida finding page to draw.

I: I’ll draw this. It looks fun. Is it okay for me to show these drawings? Well, you’re gonna read this in Tonari Young Jump in the end. I’ve drawn it, so it’s okay.

C: Until what time are you gonna stream?

I: I haven’t decided it.

C: You’ve been streaming for almost 4 hours.

I: That’s nice. This can be a record.

*Someone asked if he’s day and night became reverse when working at home.

I: Yes, definitely. That’s basically what’s happening now. I’m currently a nocturnal maybe. I wake up at wrong hours.

*Searching for bgm

C: Please play something that wouldn’t get you banned.

I: I won’t be banned, but I’ll get a copyright notice, just like Juuzou’s video. I got a notice saying I wasn’t allowed to monetise the video. I wasn’t going to. I can’t play songs I usually play because of the copyright.

C: Try getting your account banned for the commemoration project.

C: Copyright is bothersome.

I: You can’t help it. Everyone is protected that way.

*Ishida forgetting Chandra/Chandler’s outfit.

I: Did he wear a tie? He does, doesn’t he? Ah, he does.

C: It looks like Animal Rap at a glance.

I: Quite a while ago, I forgot if it was the drawing stream or not, I was drawing while animal rap videos were playing, right? During the night of the day chapter 2 was released probably, I did a streaming with animal rap videos playing on the screen. I said I wanted to see the final battle. I thought of uploading animal rap video after the stream. Now, I can start uploading them. I’ll upload animal rap video while drawing Choujin X. Need to see the conclusion of it. Are you guys anticipating it? Haha. I’m the one who anticipates it the most.

C: I wan you to bring back the Vtuber.

I: That thing? It’s a nuisance. Hahaha.

C: Is the name of the smoke guy supposed to be Chandra or it is translation error?

I: Is there translation error? I don’t know though.

I: I’ve drawn until B Block’s match for Animal Rap. The 2nd match is over, so another 4 matches to go? Or 3 matches? Huh? Let me scribble (the matches’ chart) , since I’m dumb. It’s like this, right? Until which match did I draw? I’ve drawn the B Block’s matches but I haven’t uploaded them yet. So, I have another 3 matches. So fast! The first match was super long.

*Someone wanted Animal Rap to continue forever.

I: That’s tough. Endless stuffs are tough. It’s good because it ends.

Part 9

[quarantineddreamer]

If the World Was Ending 

I reached 500 followers today!!! 🤯 To celebrate here’s a one-shot I recently wrote inspired by the song If the World Was Ending by JP Saxe and Julia Michaels. It’s a Zutara song if I ever heard one -I simply could not get the idea out of my head to write a little something on it. Hope you enjoy, thank you so much for being here💙 (and if you’re not here for the Zutara, let me know what content you’re looking for and maybe I can rustle something up ✨).

P.S. There should also be another chapter of Element of Change posted this weekend!!! --- Best wishes, B 

The sun was rising over the Fire Nation capital, its light gradually gracing slanted rooftops, empty streets, and the face of the newly crowned Fire Lord.

Zuko breathed in the cool air of a new day and exhaled the stress of yet another night of meetings and paperwork. He set his hands on the stone of the balcony railing and surveyed the tranquil scene, still not quite able to believe it.

“How are you feeling, Fire Lord Zuko?” a voice called teasingly from behind him.

Just as the dawn warmed the land before him, so too, did the sound stir a similar reaction in his chest. As Katara came to stand beside him he turned to greet her with a weary smile. “I’m surprised to see you up,” he commented, well aware of her nocturnal propensities.  

She shrugged in reply. “Lots to do before we leave tomorrow. Including,” she bumped her shoulder against his playfully, “checking in on my patient. How are you feeling?”

“I’m exhausted,” he admitted, “but that has nothing to do with my injury.”

Katara frowned. “You should really be taking it easy. Getting lots of rest.”

“I can’t. Not yet. There’s too much to be done. Too many things that need to be set right.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that... Will you still have time to come to our farewell gathering later today?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for anything,” Zuko promised. He gestured to the room behind them. “Uncle has already set his tsungi horn inside and picked out the finest tea to serve.”

Her eyes crinkled in amusement as she laughed. “It’ll be nice to have some time, just us, to say good-bye…”

He knew what she meant, but he silently corrected her in his head anyways: not just us… The others would be there too. It wasn’t that Zuko didn’t want to see them, but it was dawning on him that this might be his last real moment alone with Katara before she returned to the Southern Water Tribe. And who knows when I’ll see her again… His weariness dissolved rapidly, the heaviness in his body replaced by apprehension that ran up and down his spine and tied knots in his stomach.

“Hellooooo, Zuko?” Katara waved a hand in front of his face and his attention returned to the present --though his heart still sank at the thought that tomorrow she would be waving at him for a different reason.

I thought I had more time… “I just --I can’t believe you leave tomorrow…”

The same melancholy that crept into his tone found its way to her words too as she said, “I can’t either…”

They stood in a heavy silence, listening to the faint echoes of a city coming to life below them, attempting to savor a bit of the peace they had fought so hard for. Zuko found it was more difficult than it had been a few moments ago. The weight of her impending departure was impossible to deny and the once dreamy picture of the city before him now seemed incomplete.

“I should get going…” Katara murmured, her eyes tracing the path of a bird in flight overhead.

‘No, you shouldn’t. Please don’t.’ Zuko wanted to say. His heart seemed to chant with each beat: Now or never, now or never, now or never…

He reached for her hand, then stared at it for a moment in surprise, unused to the impulsiveness he suddenly found guiding him --but what else was there to do when it felt there was no time left to waste? She was going to sail away... He couldn’t let her go without her knowing.

Katara carefully intertwined her fingers with his own. Her gaze lingered there before she lifted her head. There was longing in her expression and pain too. “Zuko…”

“Wait,” he said in a strained voice. “Just wait… Don’t. Don’t say it.” Because it felt like she had been about to say good-bye and he didn’t want that. He wanted… he wanted…

He wanted to kiss her, had wanted to for a while, but the moment had never seemed right, he had always let the inclination pass. They had just ended a war. He had nearly died. Then he had become Fire Lord, and there were so many duties for them both to attend to, and now… Now she was standing right in front of him as she had so many times before, and might not again for he didn’t know how long, and he wanted, more than anything, to kiss her.  

Zuko leaned closer till his nose touched hers, till her exhales became his inhales, and he could smell the warmth of her skin, see the flutter of her eyelashes as she hesitated before finally shutting her eyes and sinking into his touch.

She tasted salty and sweet all at once and her lips were soft, but insistent as they pressed against his own. He wrapped his arms around her and gathered her closer, closer, till he could feel her heart hammering in time with his own, till it felt like they shared one body, one ridiculously happy soul.

Her hands rose to his chest and tangled in the silk of his crimson robes for one desperate moment, before she pulled away, breathless and… shaking her head.

“Katara, what’s wrong?” Zuko cupped her cheek in his hand. His palm grew damp from her tears.

When she looked up he could see them streaming down her face turned gold by the morning light. “Zuko, we can’t do this. I know you know that.”

He did know. He had thought about it all before, everytime the urge to act on his feelings had risen he had resisted only because he was aware of the consequences of them. Of all the impossible things Zuko had done: finding the Avatar, facing his father, ending a war, the path that lay before him seemed the most insurmountable, because yes, she was right, but he didn’t want her to be…

The politics of it would be complicated -- several of his advisors would take issue with the Fire Lord being romantically connected to a Southern Water Tribe ambassador. No matter that he couldn’t care less what they thought, it would still get in the way of the work that needed to be done. They would accuse him of being partial when negotiating, of clouded judgement. Time would be wasted arguing the dynamics of his relationship instead of focusing on the way forward to a better world.

She spoke again, as though reading his mind. “My people need me and so do yours…”

One specific person came to mind, who Zuko knew relied on and loved her very much. “Aang… He’s forgiven me for a lot, but… I don’t think he’d forgive me for this.” Zuko looked down at where her fingertips stuck loosely to his own, not yet ready to separate. He lamented the loss of what was right in front of him.

“We just weren’t-” Katara’s voice broke and she inhaled shakily before continuing. “We weren’t meant for each other.” Her face told a story that contradicted her words. Her face said she felt the same as he did --that they were connected in ways that were indescribable, as deep and powerful as the love between moon and sun.

Still, she pulled her hand away from his and stepped backwards and Zuko felt a piece of himself fall away with her...

Later that day the sky would be pink and purple where it had been blue and gold. He would turn away from the friends gathered to seek fresh air, and he would see her standing where they had stood that morning, receiving a kiss from the Avatar --the sun setting behind them.

***

There were letters exchanged over the next few years, but writing them felt like playing a part in a play. It was make-believe, a well-practiced lie.

Zuko found that the white spaces on a page were blinding. For every word he wrote there were infinitely more he wanted to add -- shattered, wish, missing, love…

He thought he might develop a tolerance for the pain of exchanging such mundane and careful sentences with her, instead, he eventually figured out it was simpler to say nothing at all than to bear the burden of holding back what went unspoken.

It was easier then, when the communication at last died out, to let her go…

***

It was sometime in his third year as Fire Lord that an assassin nearly succeeded in ending his reign.

The poison raced through his veins like lava, setting his skin on fire from the inside out, pulling at his muscles like strings of a puppet, but it was not the physical agony that tortured him the most.

It was the closest he had come to death since the Agni Kai and he had not spoken to Katara in nearly a year. The last time the world had been ending she had been by his side, facing it with him…

All the reasons not to be together, all the fear… They were irrelevant when paired with the regret he had for everything that could have been. He was dying --and what did it matter now what might have gone wrong, when in the final hour the only mistake that mattered was that they had said good-bye.

***

Zuko opened his eyes to blue.

He was certain that the spirit world had chosen the color most calming to him to help ease his transition into the afterlife.

Then the blur began to draw into focus…

He sat up so fast the room spun and her form became distorted again.

“Hey, take it easy… How are you feeling, Fire Lord Zuko?” Katara’s face had lost some of the roundness of youth, but her voice remained the same and Zuko marveled at the wonder of hearing it again after so many years.

He gave her cheek a gentle stroke to ensure it was not a dream. She smiled at the touch and his heart hiccuped at the sight. “I’m so happy to see you,” he breathed.

“Your uncle said you gave him quite the scare…”

“Uncle?… You mean you didn’t know?”

She shook her head. “No, I just got here. I didn’t realize you had been sick…”

“I assumed someone sent for a healer --the Fire Lord deserves the best, right?”

Katara rolled her eyes at his teasing, but when she spoke again her voice was serious, “That’s not why I came here.”

“Then why?”

She shut her eyes, took a deep breath and slowly released it. When she opened them again her hand had reached for his. “I almost died... I was traveling with Aang and Toph and one day I decided to go for supplies while they made camp. I was surprised by some bandits. Not a big deal for a waterbender normally --except the only scratch they managed to land on me came from a poisoned arrow. By the time I realized what was happening it was almost too late… I got lucky.”

“It was the same for me…”

“Right,” she nodded, glancing at the damp rag on his bedside table --a remnant from the battle he had fought against the poison’s fever.

“So, you came here for help? We need to track down the bandits? Do they have Aang and Toph?!” The questions tumbled one after the other until Zuko had worked himself into such a state of concern he was preparing to leave the bed right that moment and gather all the resources at his disposal to assist.

“Zuko, no, no, it’s not that. Aang and Toph are fine.” She steadied him with a hand to his shoulder.

“Katara… I don’t…” He searched her eyes for answers, but the years had not erased the pain of the day on the balcony. “Why are you here?”

“Zuko… The world was about to end, I was going to die, and…” The words tumbled out. “And the only thing I thought of was that morning before I left. I thought I had figured out how to think about you --living your life- without it ripping my heart out, but I thought of you and I thought of dying without seeing you again and it hurt more than anything. We were wrong, we…”

He didn’t let her finish the sentence. He leaned back and pulled her on top of him, held her tightly and kissed her for all the times he hadn’t in the years since their good-bye --like the world was ending, and nothing else mattered.

[notquitecanon]

New Routines// Criminal Minds x Marvel Crossover pt. 4

Part One   Part Two   Part Three 

“So Captain Rogers,” you started, watching him look around the room in curiosity before he corrected you.

“Please, call me Steve, ma’am.” He nodded, eyes settling on the computer sitting on your desk. You nodded in return, pretended to take note of that but actually scribbling notes about his body language. You had already worked up a ridiculously preliminary profile on the three-hour train from DC, but the combination of the extenuating circumstances and outdated material made it hard to get a feel for his personality. You scratched out ‘profile’, and wrote down Psychological Eval at the top of your notes. It would be easy enough to bend a normal psych eval and throw around a few improvised questions for Steve. 

“Alright, Steve, as long as you don’t call me Ma’am.” You smiled, before continuing, “Like Director Fury told you, I’m just here to assess how you’re doing mentally. As he said, my name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” 

You paused, a snap decision to tell him a little about yourself flashed through your mind. You hoped it give him a little confidence in your work, or at the very least build some rapport. “I formally worked in the FBI, with the BAU. I was recruited to SHIELD a little under a year ago. Before we get started, do you have any questions?”

“Sorry, what is the BAU? And Director Fury said something about a Psych Eval.” He asked, one eyebrow raised, and hands folding in his lap. You smiled, apologizing quietly.

“BAU, behavioral analysis unit. We’re specially trained to ‘profile’. We use behavioral cues to analyze, prevent, and catch criminals. But, this can also be used just to learn about people and how/why they do what they do. And a Psych Eval is just a series of questions that helps me understand where you are mentally with what’s going on.” You watched him listen intently as you explained. “If you have any more questions, please feel free to stop me. Ready?”

And with a nod, you began as you flipped to a blank page. Most questions were fairly standard for an evaluation, and he answered flawlessly- showing you that he could at least come off as well balanced, but he also seemed exceedingly genuine. Forty-five minutes later, you were nodding along as he answered a question. Finally, it came to a natural pause long enough for you to interject, “Thank you for your honesty, and due to the uniqueness of this situation, I’ve drafted a few questions for you. 

The blonde man in front of you, nodded eyes catching a helicopter outside the window. When he zeroed back in on you, you smiled before reading off the question, “As you’ve seen, a lot has changed. And while I know you haven’t had a chance to explore, what seems to be the biggest change?”

“Well, obviously, there’s the physical things. Clothes are different, the city is different- I almost didn’t recognize Time’s Square. I don’t know if I’ll ever wrap my head around technology- computers used to be the size of a room, and now they’re barely radio sized. But, the biggest change is the people.” He explained, eyes looking past you and out of the window to the New York streets.  His interest piqued your interest. 

“Can you elaborate on that?” You asked as you shorthanded notes. He paused, collecting his thoughts before continuing while looking at his hands. 

“I mean this with all due respect. You. Director Fury. The people on the street. People have changed. You’re a woman who was a field agent for the FBI, I only knew a few women who carried a gun in the 40′s and they had to work endlessly just to get a foot in the door. You take orders from an African American man and people genuinely respect him, no more segregation. That’s amazing, I didn't think I’d ever get to see that. People seem more abrasive on the street, but are so much more accepting.” He seemed to ramble, but every word was perfectly chosen.  Not knowing what else to say, you softly smiled bobbing your head up and down.

“A lot of that progress was actually made in the 60′s/70′s and still even today.” You remarked, finishing off your notes as you looked up to him. He smiled down at his hands before meeting your eyes. 

“Well, if I woke up and nothing had changed- I’d be a whole lot more worried.” 

Immediately after you excused yourself, you were ushered into a meeting with Director Fury. He quickly skirted around his desk and into his seat, leaning into his desk as he prompted, “Well...?”

You quirked an eyebrow, cocking your head to the side, “Well what, sir?”

His good eye narrowed in on you, deadpanning as he continued, “Could he work in the Avenger’s initiative?”

You sighed, flipping through your notes. “Do you want him because you think he’s a good fit, or because he’s an American Hero and the public will react well?”

He just stared at you, tell you your answer. Finally, he continued, “Are you telling me he’s not a good fit?” 

“I don’t know yet, There’s still a lot to learn.” You nodded, not liking the gut feeling you got. You had a lot of respect for the director, but every now and then his hidden intentions made you uneasy. 

“Like what?” He pressed, voice stern as he leaned in. You slid the file across the desk as you squared your jaw. 

“Well, I only did a baseline, slightly modified psych eval. He fell asleep in 1945 and woke up in 2011- like every veteran, it’s likely he has PTSD, which he would know as shell shock or combat fatigue.” You began, eyebrows furrowing at the eccentricity of the situation, “He’ll need to be reintroduced to society, socialized to today’s societal norms. And that could arise or create issues all in of its own.”

Fury flipped open the files, eyes darting over your notes as the two of you fell into silence. It was a loaded silence, and you felt the pressure of it as you watched it. Slowly, your brain ticked through ideas. “Sir, I may have an idea?” 

He motioned for you to speak without looking up from the file, you nodded as you began training your eyes on the hair tie you were fiddling with, “First, you move him to DC. Closer to SHIELD headquarters first of all. Secondly, New York’s a lot to take in any way.  DC is still a big city, but is less likely to overwhelm him as much. Over a period of 6 months, you can assign an agent to reintroduce him to the world. Monthly, have him meet with a psychologist to gauge his progress. In six months- that would be June, right?- I’ll meet with him again.”

You paused, looking up to see Fury watching you intently, so you kept going, “Then, after the six months, I’ll draw up an official profile, and we can revisit the Avenger’s Initiative conversation then.” 

He stared at you for a moment, eye narrowing before nodding, “We’ll cut out the middle man. You’ll be in charge of getting him out in the world, and monthly you’ll report to me about his progress. In six months, we’ll discuss his involvement in SHIELD.” 

Your eyes widened and you resisted the urge to drop your jaw, “Sir, you want me... babysitting... Captain America?” 

He smirked, the file in his hand slapping against the pristine desk. 

“Think of it as real-time profiling.” He chuckled as he walked out of the room. You couldn’t do anything more than gape after him. 

____

Two weeks later, coming up on the end of January, Steve was issued a clean bill of health- even with the super immunity, they played it safe by revaccinating and running a ridiculous amount of tests- and the two of you were relocated to DC. In those two weeks, you set to work. You were issued a SHIELD credit card, to use for ‘Steve related costs’- funnily enough, Steve was still awarded his pension, adjusted for inflation. You bought him furniture, new clothes, a cellphone, and tracked down his belongings. You mentally thanked Howard Stark for paying to have Steve’s belongings stored.

Annoyingly enough, they placed you back in your old apartment which made it incredibly annoying to unpack your belongings. Steve was your upstairs neighbor. He was almost your next-door neighbor, but you suggested even a floor's worth of distance would give him a better feeling of independence. You had gotten the feeling that Steve valued his privacy.  You now regretted your suggestion as you heard him pace around at all hours of the night. Despite sneaking into several Nazi bases, he was a very loud walker. 

Despite his nocturnal habits, Steve was nothing but polite and thankful as you helped him. He’d been extremely attentive when you taught him the basics of how to use his cell phone (how to add contacts, make calls, text, take pictures, download apps and music, use google), and he picked it up pretty fast. It was a slower process teaching him how to cook, so for the first few weeks, he usually ate with you, or stuck to sandwiches. You got him 

The task that truly overwhelmed you was figuring out how to go about actually reintroducing him. Coma victims felt lost enough after a month, but 72 years (give or take) was a long time- and a lot had happened. Politics, History, Technology, Culture, Pop Culture. The task made your head spin. Spencer was a big help, more than happy to take you up on your challenge of creating a thorough timeline of everything he could think of- which was a lot. Everything from politics to pop culture, but you redacted the bits about the serial killer knowledge. 

The timeline was very helpful, as Steve would break it down by decade. In the 1950′s he took interest in rock ‘n’ roll (he was not a fan), the Korean war, the beginnings of Vietnam, Alaska and Hawaii becoming a state, and the invention of color TV. Then in the 1960′s, it was JFK (election and assassination), The Space Race (he was astonished that not only was there a man on the moon, but we also had colored video of it), integration of Ole Miss (and then consequently the Riots of Ole Miss), the Cold War, Cuban Missile Crisis, The Beatles, Civil Rights movement, the height of Vietnam, and Nixon.

Steve decided he was better off for sleeping through the sixties, “There was a lot going on, even in the 40′s I was basically propaganda for Stocks and Bonds, who knows what I would have “represented” with all that going on.”  

Then in the 70′s, it was Disney World, the end of Vietnam, Star Wars, death of Elvis, and things becoming digitalized. 80′s was similar: the election of Reagan, first space shuttle launch, assassination attempts on Reagan and the Pope, first female supreme court judge, first woman in space, Chernobyl, decommissioning of nuclear warheads, and the fall of the Berlin wall.  Then in the 90′s, it was the Hubble telescope, Gulf War, dissolvent of the Soviet Union, OJ Simpson trial, and successful cloning of a Dolly the sheep. And then, the most modern, the 2000s, the second Bush presidency, 9/11, invasion of Iraq, Hurricane Katrina, the rise of cell phones, first iPhone, North Korean tension, the election of  Obama, and death of Osama Bin Laden. 

You were very careful to keep most of your opinions to yourself, as it was very important to let Steve decide his own opinions. When he wanted to know more about the subject, you always jumped in to help him research- it was like a refresher course in World History. (Spencer Reid was a constant contact, and you were grateful he didn’t ask what you were up to, and Garcia was amazing at finding playlists to really explore the music of the decades, and for fashion trends.) 

Like Natasha, Steve had become a friend. Believe it or not, under all that 1940′s manner and modesty, he had a good sense of humor. And after spending nearly all of his time with you, he finally loosened up and showed you. Of course, it helped that he was honestly one of the best guys you knew. He was honest, well-mannered- a perfect gentleman. Just as you listened to him, he listened to you when you were having problems (usually when one of the BAU got hurt or was going through something). Helping him get used to the world felt less like an assignment and more like off time. 

It took a while, but by March you settled into a weekly routine. Monday/Wednesday was reserved to show Steve around the city, exploring new things and old- introducing him to new and old things. Fortunately, DC was a hotspot for museums that Steve seemed to enjoy. Over the past two months, he seemed to warm up to you- you’d even dare to call yourselves friends. Tuesday was reserved for Natasha, she’d come and hang out with you- and work out with you, you might have passed your field test, but that didn’t satisfy her. 

“I’ve seen a lot of agents that passed this test get their asses handed to them. I’d rather not see you do the same. Well, unless I’m the one doing it.” She smirked after, in fact, heading your ass to you. You’d just rolled your eyes and get up to go again. “But you are getting better. It’s getting slightly more difficult to hand your ass to you.”

Afterward, she’d hand you a water bottle and take you to lunch/dinner. Every now and then, Clint would come with her. You and Clint weren’t close, but it was comforting to know he tolerated you. Or at least pretended to for Natasha’s sake. 

Thursdays were reserved for the BAU, when they were in town. Sometimes that meant stopping by the office with coffee offerings and ‘book club’ with Reid, and sometimes that meant ‘family dinner’ at Rossi’s. Derek slowly seemed to completely forgive you, but still gave you shit on a near-daily basis. Prentiss, JJ, and Garcia made girl’s night a more frequent event, and you were still working on convincing Nat to come with you one night. And on the rarest of occasions, Hotch would call you up to babysit Jack. 

Fridays were to recover from Thursday nights- (Surprisingly babysitting was almost exhausting as a night of drinking at Rossi’s). Friday afternoons were reserved for Fury to call you and harass you for details about Steve. 

Weekends were for larger expeditions like taking Steve to neighboring cities. Boston, Baltimore, Pittsburgh, Philadelphia, and Richmond were all on the shortlist, and New York was a constant. Thankfully, Sunday ( or at least Sunday Afternoon) was reserved for you. 

That was your time to rest, relax, and recharge. On rare Sundays that you were already home, Steve would stop by after his morning run after picking up coffee and breakfast from his favorite breakfast place you had shown him- an old fashioned diner with amazing breakfast- as a small thank you for your help. (Truthfully, you only knew about it because Gideon had treated the whole team to breakfast after the jet landed one day at six AM).

But on most Sundays, you got home mid-afternoon. You’d run some errands, maybe cook yourself dinner and a movie. But most importantly, you were home and ready to rest and relax.  

So at 7:23 PM, you were startled out of a nap by your phone vibrating off your desk. You shot up looking for the source of the disturbance, slowly becoming aware of your surroundings as you dove off the couch for the offending device. Quickly reading the caller ID, you tried to clear the sleep out of your voice as you picked up. 

“Hotch?” You asked drowsily, propping yourself back up on your elbows as you drug yourself up. Your eyebrows crinkled, it had been a long time since you got an impromptu call from Hotch. 

“(Y/N), we need you to come in.” He started, straight to the point as usual. Your mind became steadily more cleared as you wrenched yourself off the comfortable couch. “We have a case, and it’s bigger than we can handle. We’re calling in JJ as well.” 

You were speeding into the kitchen, starting a pot of coffee- knowing this phone call meant a long night- as you responded, “Hotch, you know I want to. That I’d be back in the BAU in an instant. But I have to get clearance from my supervisors, take off of my assignments, and that could take-” 

Your worries were cut off by both Hotch’s voice and a knock on your door. You listened to Hotch’s voice as you set out a mug before letting Steve in- not even sticking around long enough to smile at him as you returned to the kitchen. 

“You’re already cleared, and cleared to use SHIELD intelligence. Anderson is coming to get you in 30 minutes. Pack a go-bag. You’ll be briefed in person. This is highly sensitive.” His voice was stern, but you picked up on how fast he was talking- a habit he had when was anxious. You bit your lip, putting the mug back in the cabinet and retrieving a travel cup instead. 

“Hotch...” You paused, eyes flicking to Steve who looked at you with concern in his blue eyes, he’d probably just come back from an evening run and was hoping to mooch off your dinner, “Is everyone alright? Are you safe?” 

“It’s Emily. I’ll see you soon.” 

And with that the line went silent with a click. You sighed, relishing the last minute of peace before spurring into action. Leaving your phone on the counter, you went to retrieve your old go-bag. Steve was hot on your heels, “(Y/L/N), is everything alright?”

You didn’t miss a beat, retreating into your bedroom- which Steve never followed you into, instead, waiting in the hall as you threw things into a bag. You shoved business clothes in, neglecting the pajamas- knowing the team wouldn’t sleep until the case was solved. Dry shampoo, face wash, deodorant, toothbrush and paste, and makeup were quick to follow; these were the toiletries that you could use in a police station bathroom to freshen up. Just like old times. You’d honestly forgotten to answer Steve’s question, mind-boggling all of the very few details Hotch gave you. 

He’s calling JJ in- so this is a multibranch operation, probably organized crime, It involves Emily, she worked for Interpol, so international organized crime... You breezed past Steve again, tossing your bag onto the couch and gently tossing your SHIELD tablet on top of it. Just as quickly, you turned to go back to the bedroom but ran smack into the super-soldier. You’d almost forgotten he was there. But he grabbed your arm, minding his strength so it didn’t feel threatening. “(Y/N), what’s wrong?” 

Even with the analytical part of your brain working through the situation, you couldn’t help but worry for your friend and the possible danger she was in. You wanted to cry but knew it wouldn’t help anything, instead, you took a deep breath, “My old team just called me in, there’s a case they need my help with. One of my friends might be in danger. If they’re calling me in, it has to be bad.”

He slowly let go of your arm, and you could tell his mind was somewhere else, but he offered a quiet sentiment as he let you pass, “With you on the case, your friend has nothing to worry about.” 

Not knowing what else to say, you retreated back to your room to get dressed. After slipping into some of your old work clothes, you attached your holster and slid your loaded gun into it. Taking a deep breath, you looked in the mirror, Just treat it like a routine case. You don’t even know if Prentiss is even hurt. Just do your job. 

____

You repeated that in your head as you buzzed about the apartment, finally, with Anderson ten minutes out, you shouldered your bags to leave, or at least to wait outside. Nervous energy bubbled in your stomach as you turned to the blonde who was still eyeing you with worry, “I shouldn’t be gone more than a few days. You should be fine but if not, call Fury and he’ll send someone. There are leftovers in my fridge. I’ll have my phone if you need me and-”

Steve cut you off with a soft smile, knowing your rambling wasn’t an insult, “(Y/N), I’m a grown man. I lived on my own for years before I was even a soldier. I’ll be fine.” 

You sighed, running a hand through your hair and smiling apologetically “Sorry, Steve, I know.” 

“Just be careful, don’t do anything stupid or reckless.” He ordered. This time you actually smiled, recalling all the stories of his own reckless stupidity. 

“That’s your MO, Mr. I’ll Sky Dive into a Nazi base by myself.” You teased, pausing when your phone dinged. Anderson was waiting. Steve chuckled, ducking his hand and crossing his arms over a broad chest. 

“Yeah, yeah.” He chuckled as you turned to leave, “Seriously, be careful.”

You turned back for a moment, nodding your head like a promise, “I will.” 

_________

Shorter than usual and I don’t really like it, but I think Y’all know what’s coming. Also, should I put a romantic interest in this?? 

Taglist: @irishfaulk97 @viarogers @toboldlyscream @benji-booxx

[blairette-on]

Bonds to our Destiny, Chapter 2: “Watching over you”

Time skip, obviously! :p Yeah, as a warning, the first chapters might not be really linked to each other, they « settle » things for the future ones but I'll try to be the more coherent possible! x)

By the way, with the release of season two, I add a little something that can be seen as a minor spoiler, but if you haven't see the pilot, you shouldn't get it, but you're warned! ^^

I know that I'll write it later in other chapters but I prefer to make myself clear now: this fanfic will not follow the RTA canon! I'll stick to the movie and season one plot (with the twist and all that this AU (?) will create) but after SOTSD, I'll use some elements from the season two but not the canon stuff! ^^

I also realize, while reading other fanfic, that some ideas seem to be "canon" (by that, I mean some "theme" are recurrent from fanfic to fanfic, like a Jazz standard, such as the dreams, the powers of the moon, etc,...) Maybe it's not necessary to put this here but I'll do it nonetheless: I don't plagiarize anyone, huh! And nothing belongs to me! The characters and the main story are Disney's property (?)! As the Moon theory belongs to Ghosta-r! ^^

Enjoy! o/

oOoOoOo

Quirin looked at his son's sleeping face with a fond smile as he brushed some of Varian's black locks off his forehead.

At nine years old, Quirin's son was quite a gifted boy, very curious and eager in all new things that captured his attention. At such a young age, he had developed a great interest in science and alchemy, and for his seventh birthday, Quirin bought him some vials and stuff for him to do little experimentations. And after two years, nothing had exploded, yet.

It was a good start.

Outside, the sky was pitch black, only enlighten by the stars as it was the new moon. And as Quirin look aimlessly in the air before him, he let out a sigh, thinking back at the events that happened earlier this day.

The village's children thought of Varian as a sort of weirdo and they did everything in their power to make him felt rejected. Between the very bad pranks and the stupid nicknames, the last one recorded was 'Weird-rian', Varian had reached a certain line that the children should not have crossed, but they had, and the little boy became very, very angry.

The problem lied in the fact that Quirin wasn't aware of all this bullying stuff until one of the bully's parent came to his home with a very upset Varian and their own nose-bleeding boy, explaining that the nine years old one had attacked their 'sweet-little-Steve' without any reasons and that 'he should teach his boy how to act properly in society'.

Quirin had only looked down at his son with a very reproving glare of his own, and before he got the chance to say anything, Varian apologized with a very quiet voice and run straight to his bedroom without looking back. Steve's parents only snorted at the little boy manners and, after several Quirin's apologizes for his son behavior, went to return to their house.

And while he was watching them disappeared in a corner of the village street, he could have sworn that the little Steve had glanced back at him with a victorious gleam in his eyes as a vicious grin was spread across his lips. Quirin had frowned at this and quietly reached Varian's room, peaking a sneak inside, only to see the young boy trying to silently wash what seemed to be a pretty bad cut on his forearm.

His blood had just simply frozen in his veins at the view and Quirin had rushed inside his son's bedroom, to the very much surprise of the younger, to help him healed his wound while asking him what was exactly going on.

And after few silent seconds, Varian had begun to cry, a lot, in his father shoulder, telling him that he was bullied for a few months already by some children of the village, that they tough he was a weirdo because he didn't talk too much or because he spent a lot of time at reading books than playing with them, or because he was a boy too sensible and that it was not normal to be so emotional.

And between the sobs and the mumblings, Varian managed to apologize at least a hundred times to his father.

Quirin had felt hopeless and the only thing he did was drawing circles in his son's back in a soothing way, telling him that he shouldn't apologize for what happened, because it was not his fault, and that he should have come to see him sooner to talk to him about his problems instead of resorting to violence. Varian said nothing at this as he continued to cry in Quirin's shoulder until he was too tired to keep his eyes open. He drifted to sleep in a matter of seconds after that, his breathing becoming deeper and less erratic from his earlier's cries.

Since then, Quirin watched over him, making sure that the cut on his arm was okay. He had palled as he saw all the bruises Varian had on his body and he cursed mentally himself for not having noticed it sooner.

Sighing deeply, he looked at the window and at the moonless sky.

This part of the month was the one where Varian's mood swings were at their top. Not that Varian was a moody child, but he tended to be very emotional when it was the new moon, more restless and nervous than when the Moon was full, periods when he was peaceful and at the top of his abilities, both physical and psychic.

He knew that the natural cycle of the nocturnal body had some effects upon his son, it was expected, knowing Varian's… Abilities. Maybe he should find a stone or something like this that could help him calm his mood swings…

Maybe he should ask him for this…? Yes, maybe he should, he had told Quirin that he could ask him anything if needed after all…

Sighing once more, Quirin stroke once more his son's head, his fingers lingered a little longer upon the streak of blue that colored his black hair before bending over him and pressed a kiss upon Varian's forehead. He heard a sight of delight escaped his son's lips and Quirin realized that maybe, maybe, he should be more expressive toward his son.

He didn't want for him to grow up believing that he always disappointed his father or that Quirin was not proud of him.

Because he already so much was.

oOoOoOo

Those dreams had something very unsettling that made Varian almost restless.

Some weeks had passed since the incident with the children's village, and his father seemed to be more cautious of him and tried to be a little more expressive toward him.

The little boy was very happy that his father tried to be more here for him, he even gave him a gift while it was not his birthday! It was a sort of handmade necklace made with a thin cord on which his father had hooked a little purple-yellow stone, a certain variety of opal, he said but he didn't tell him where he found it, to help him stabilized his emotion and to not get angry as he did last time with Steve. In a certain trick of the light, the stone sometimes appears as if it had a deep blue-silver color instead of the purple one.

Varian had no idea if it really worked, but he was now used to the cold feeling of the opal upon his chest, as he kept the necklace under his shirt to avoid breaking the rope and, yeah, he hadn't had the urge to punch someone nose for quite sometimes now, so he suppose it was okay.

As for the dreams, he hadn't dared to talk about them with his father yet. Because he knew deep down that his worries were unfounded, because it was just dreams, but also because Quirin claimed to be a man of science and Varian only wanted to be just like him when he would be older.

He shouldn't believe in nonsense like magic, and yet… He did because he couldn't avoid thinking about them.

The fact was that the dreams were kind of recurrent, even if not regulars, and it was always the same girl, and Varian felt it in his guts that something was wrong with them.

Well, not 'wrong' in a bad way, but rather because they did not seem to be just simple dreams. But no matter how hard he tried to give them a logical explanation, he always faced a dead-end in his researches.

Looking down to his notebook, the young by rereading the few pieces of information he had about them :

1) They are not regular and do not seem to follow a certain schedule, I can have them for twenty nights straight and then not having a single one for almost three months.

2) It's always the same girl who appears in them, it appears that she is older than me

3) They happen always in the same nowhere-place.

4) I can't remember her face, no matter how many times I saw her.

5) I can't hear her name too.

6) It seems that she had the same problems

Well, he thought, It's a beginning to work with…!

He drew a long sight as he leaned back in his chair. Who was he fooling? It was pointless! It had been almost six years since the first dream had occurred and no matter how hard he tried to understand them, those dreams seemed to keep their secrets under lock and except for the obvious, he had literally nothing to work on.

(And yes, maybe sometimes Varian forget that he was still a child)

Upside, he heard his father walked into the living room. Stretching a bit, he stood up, put the notebook in a hidden drawer of his desk then shook off the numbness in his limbs before climbing up the stairs to join Quirin on the ground floor.

As always, they will share a father/son moment while watching the lanterns that royal family launched for their lost little girl's birthday each year. Varian felt sad for them, as they were good friends of his father, and that he gets the chance to meet them a few times. They were very nice people, and they certainly didn't deserve what had happened to them all those years back.

"Varian? Are you coming?"

"I'm right here Dad," he said as we walked toward the big figure of his father. The older held two unlighted lanterns in one hand as he stretched the second one toward his son.

"Ready?"

"More than ever " responded Varian with a small smile, slipping his hand in his father's bigger one, and on that, they were on their way to the Capital.

As always, the festivities at the center of Corona were magnificent, with all the music and dances, and Varian enjoyed all that the Capital had to offer with his father as he hadn't spent a lot of time with him for a few weeks already.

Quirin seemed a little… Off, but he did his best to not show his feelings to Varian and the little nine-almost-ten-years-old didn't mind very much.

The launch of the flying lanterns was gorgeous to see, no matter how many times he already had the chance to watch it. But as Varian and his father were on their way back to Old Corona, a little part of his mind wished to he would have been able to take a little bit of the view with him in a part of his head to show it the Girl of his dreams later, as she longed to see them in real one day.

'It's my dream !' she had said one night, as it seemed that her own birthday coincided with the event. He had asked her why she didn't ask her Mother to take her to the festival as a birthday gift one year. The Girl had only sighed and said that she tries, once, to imply the idea that maybe she would like the go to see them and that her Mother answer was a categoric 'no'. He had asked her why and, as always, she said that she couldn't tell him the reason.

Maybe he should work on this problem to solve instead of trying to understand the origins of the dreams?

He decided that he'll think of it later. A yawn escaped his lips before he could register it and he felt his head fell upon his father's shoulder as they reached the village with their little cart. By the time they arrived at their house, Varian was already sleeping and Quirin had to carry him to his room. He took off his son's apron, shoes, and goggles before settled him in his bed. And as he did so, he saw the steak of blue in his son's hair began to glow before its silver-blue color spread all across his son's head.

So he had those dreams again… They would never stop, would they ? he thought bittersweetly.

… Of course not, they wouldn't. Things would be so different if Varian never had them if Varian had never been…

He drew out a long sigh and close his eyes, stroking again his son's black hair. And so, Quirin didn't register the coming glowing light until he heard something bump against the window's frame. Looking in the direction of the noise, he saw that it was a lantern that found its way to his son's room. Frowning at the strange event, Quirin stood up and went to take it between two hands and saw that it was not a common lantern but the that was launched by Frederick and Arianna.

Bewildered by the strangeness of the situation, Quirin returned to his son side and, on a whim, put the object on Varian's nightstand. In the distance, Old Corona's chief heard a bell rang twelve times. The lost princess's birthday just had ended, but it was not over yet. He counted two minutes in his head before leaning back over Varian and pressed one kiss on his forehead.

"Daddy… ? " ask Varian's sleeping voice, not noticing the surreal brightness of the room, "What is it…?"

"Nothing, son. Happy Birthday," he murmured as he stroke his son's shinning hair, lulling the younger to sleep, a small smile on his lips.

A few moments later, Quirin made his way out of Varian's bedroom to his own, aiming a good night of rest after having spent several weeks working like a madman.

But before that, he had to reinforce the spells that kept his house, and mostly Varian, safe. And even if he knew that he still had some years before hells break loose and that he wasn't the only one watching over his son (even if it was still from afar), they would reassure Quirin a little more about Varian well-being.

Once he was sure that everything was okay, the older man let himself fell straight into his mattress, barely pulling a sheet over himself, falling asleep almost instantly.

I don't know if I'm pleased with this chapter or not. It's a filler one, btw, as a lot of them will be! But, they are needed because they settle a lot of things so…

What do you think of it? A review/comment is always appreciated! ^^