#also the other day I was debating again about possibly getting crutches and as I was thinking this

[dragon-spaghetti]

Oh btw I think I might be haunted so that's fun

[myosotisa]

i'm starvin, darlin - e.m.

Eddie Munson x Reader

ǁ summary: Since coming back from the Upside Down, Eddie has slowly been changing. Each week seems to bring something different and he finds himself doing things he never thought he would.

ǁ tags: gender neutral reader, no pronouns, no y/n. nickname used (sweetheart). mentions of season 4 final episode and what occurred. canon divergent (every one lived). it's not smut, but smut adjacent. it's sexy

ǁ word count: 2k

ǁ notes: i sat down and wrote an entire one shot in one sitting again. and i am also not going to edit this one. and i do not feel bad for lowercase hozier title, so don't even try me like that. if y'all really like it, i can add a part 2 with smut, but this is it for now

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There are still a lot of things Eddie is having to come to terms with since the night his heart stopped.

That night in the Upside Down, laying in Dustin’s arms, he had died. Without a doubt. Dustin had felt his pulse and there was nothing there. And though he didn’t know CPR, had no idea what he was doing, Dustin had laid him down on the ground and started to beat against his chest. Like maybe if he hit hard enough and in the right place, his friend would come back to life.

Somehow it worked. No one bothered to ask why.

But they all knew something was wrong two days later. Eddie, barely breathing and with a weak heartbeat, had been dragged back to the surface and hidden away in the RV they had stolen. Someone watched him round the clock as they debated what to do. If they should try to get him to a hospital, how they’d be able to explain it. But then something miraculous began to happen:

Eddie started healing. All on his own. Way faster than any person should have been able to.

His skin stitched itself back together faster than should be possible, leaving less scar tissue than it should have behind. His chest began to rise and fall in more steady breaths, his heart beat getting stronger, bones resetting themselves with slow and quiet creaks as he laid in that RV bed and slept. He’d been asleep since they brought him back.

The day he woke up, his body had almost entirely healed itself. From the brink of death, having even stepped over to the other side, and now he was almost back to before it ever happened. It had only been a week.

Everyone rejoiced, refusing to question anything weird that may have happened in the Upside Down and just thinking they finally won for once. Max had casts on both her arms but was otherwise unharmed, Steve had recovered from his own injuries at the rate of a normal human and now sported a scar around his throat that he sometimes felt self conscious about. Dustin was on crutches with his broken leg for another month at least. Eddie was alive and whole and back to himself. They’d made it, everyone had made it.

He began to notice more and more things that were different as the days went on.

The first thing he caught on to was that he had the capability to be strong. Way stronger than someone who had recently been bed ridden should be. It was like in the comic books with the Hulk – if he wasn’t paying attention or if he got too emotional, he could easily break anything. A walkman destroyed, a ceramic bowl reduced to shards, a metal pipe bent beyond fixing, the wooden handle of a hammer shattered in his grip. The boys were all present for the hammer incident and sighted it as one of the coolest things they had ever seen. They swarmed him, asking him how he did it, what else he could do, how strong he really was.

Only the other teens, Steve, Nancy, Robin, you, started to look a little bit closer.

When the next few changes became apparent, it was clear something unnatural had happened to Eddie that night in the Upside Down. He could feel other people's feelings. They brushed against his consciousness like ghosts whenever he looked at someone. Happiness like warm rays of sunshine, fear like a shuddering gust of wind, anger like hot coals pressed to his skin. It wasn’t a conscious effort – in fact, there were a lot of times he wished he could turn it off. Whenever he looked too hard at someone, it’s like his brain adjusted to a different frequency and their emotions reached out to him, no matter what they were. And he didn’t struggle to make sense of the sensations like he thought he might, his brain completed the dots easily at first, but then he began to recognize them consciously. It was certainly useful sometimes, especially when it came to you, but it still felt a bit invasive. When he’d explained it to a few people, he assured he tried to ignore it whenever he could, but sometimes he couldn’t help but react. The icey spike of terror he felt when you woke up next to him from a nightmare. The velvet comfort that enveloped you and him when he held you after.

The first time he spoke into someone’s mind it was an accident. Steve had whipped toward him, breath catching in his chest, eyes wide and mouth open in a gasp. Eddie felt it like ice down his spine. “Did you… You did that?” He’d asked breathlessly. It had been so shocking, Eddie wasn’t even sure what’d he said, or projected, or whatever it was.

“I - I don’t know.”

Steve stepped closer, suddenly looking determined. “Try to do it again.”

It was a slithering feeling when he dipped back into Steve’s mind. Like sliding his way in between cracks to a place he didn’t belong, seeping into the forefront of his thoughts to plant one of his own. It made him feel dirty, uncomfortable, and wrong. But it worked. Steve explained it as having a thought like his own but it came out in Eddie’s voice instead. An intrusive thought but not an uncomfortable one.

As with all of the other discoveries, a meeting was called. Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Max, Will, El, Robin, Jonathan, Nancy, Steve, and you. Steve did most of the talking while Eddie sat and looked at his hands. These meetings, while he acknowledged were important for everyone to keep track of his progression into… something, it still made him feel a bit like a zoo animal in a cage. A magician with a magic trick. All the boys immediately begged him to do it to them, they wanted to see what it felt like, wanted to see how easy it was for him to do it. 

Nancy and Jonathan had shooed them, catching on to how overwhelmed Eddie was, their excitement and curiosity battering against him like a whipping wind of too much. Once it was just the older people in the room, you crossed over to where he was, kneeled down in front of him, reached out to hold his hand.

Pity felt like someone was pissing in his pants.

“Are you okay?”

How could he say no? How could he admit that he was scared, confused, and feeling more and more like a monster with the passing days? “It’s just a lot. To deal with.”

Your smile was pained as you pushed yourself up onto your calves and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. His came around your waist on instinct, the breath feeling like a wheeze in his lungs as he held tight. Face pressed into your hair with his eyes squeezed shut, he inhaled deep in relief.

That was when the next thing changed.

It was a desire. A need. One he couldn’t place a name to. Like he was desperately missing something, desperately craving something and he didn’t know it was. It crawled under his skin like ants and sent him scratching for a feeling that couldn’t be satiated. No matter what he tried: eating, drinking, masturbating, exercising. The feeling wouldn’t go away. It got stronger day after day, his mind focusing more and more on the void it left behind until it was all he could think about.

Steve threw a little get together at his house once a month or so. Just time for everyone to get together, eat some food, listen to music, play board games, maybe watch a movie. This was the first get together since his hunger began.

He was sitting on the couch on his own, decompressing. While normally he was right in the middle of everything, today it was a lot to handle when he was hyperfocused on the crawling beneath his skin. He had his legs spread wide, hands resting on them, leaning deep into the cushions of the couch in Steve’s basement. While he had initially tried to close his eyes, hang his head back, maybe stare at the ceiling – he couldn’t stop his attention from drifting back to you.

You and Eddie had been friends for a long time. Understandably, you’d gotten much closer after the events in March. The two of you had helped each other through hard nights of nightmares, panic attacks in parking lots, flashbacks in public. You’d been a great comfort to him since he came back. But today your laugh sounded like music. The smell of your perfume hit him even across the room. Each emotion crashed over him in waves, pushing and receding like the tide as he tried to get off your frequency, unentangle himself from you before he did something he didn’t mean to do.

I’m starving.

Your back stiffened, the grip on your plastic cup getting just a bit tighter. A moment of fear quickly shifted to mellowed surprise, curiosity. He’d never spoken into your mind before, hadn’t meant to do so now. But you still shifted, your eyes slowly coasting across the room until you caught sight of him on the couch.

A shock of electricity shot down his spine as you made eye contact, his hands tightening over his thighs in reaction. Unsure exactly what to do, he settled for projecting again. Slithered his way into your ears and settled a respectful distance from the area he’d never been brave enough to venture. Sorry, he offered with a wince, didn’t mean to.

What he didn’t expect was the utter flood of feeling that hit him next. Like a drip of warm honey settling into the space between his hips, pooling there in a subtle swirl as the warmth from it started to diffuse outward. You realized you’d been staring and your eyes flit away, but the feeling didn’t cease. In fact, it only got stronger. Your lower lip caught on your teeth as you shifted between your feet. Things that would be completely normal to see, wouldn’t have anyone looking twice, but Eddie could. Your desire. The want that poured from you like water when your eyes first met his.

Was this the first time? Had something changed between you and him? Or had he just never caught on before?

The ants beneath his skin began to vibrate as he narrowed in on the feeling, on you. Like the part of him that had slithered into your thoughts was now bearing down, digging in for purchase, wanting to stay awhile and feed on this new feeling, what you were offering. It didn’t even occur to him what he was doing, how invasive it might be, how wrong he normally would have felt. All he knew is that it felt like licking at the thing he’d been craving for so long and he was helpless to chase after it.

Sweetheart. It came easy as breathing now, teeth sunk into your consciousness from where you stood across the room. You whirled on him again, another flood of warmth hitting him deep as you leaned your hip against the counter you were standing next to and focused on him. What’s got you so worked up?

He couldn’t even consider how bold he was suddenly being, the fear that he might ruin this friendship well out of his grasp. Especially when your embarrassment spiked along with the want, the pool of warmth now suddenly coming to life to have a heartbeat of its own. Your eyes widened, shifting on your feet again as you broke eye contact. It only took a few moments before you couldn’t help but look back at him again. The buzzing settled further, now like a purr beneath his skin. It was bearable as long as you kept your eyes on him.

You wanna do something about it?

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thanks for reading, please reblog and leave a comment if you liked it!

[aquanova99]

Heyyyy thanks for the other headcanon this is for the wolf pack and volturi

How would they react if you died during breaking dawn part 2

Oof that’s a lot of characters so I’ll split this into two parts. If I forget feel free to send another ask for the wolfpack. I’ll start with Volturi since I’m a little more comfortable with them. Also since the battle didn’t happen I am going to write if you died in general for more anguish 😬

Aro

There will be vengeance

It will be methodical, this man will destroy covens to get even

Once he feels like you’ve had justice he will fall into a Marcus level depression that he won’t be able to escape

He would try and occupy himself with missions just to avoid having any time to think about the missing space you left.

However it’s not like people are breaking rules all the time so he is going to have to accept the fact that you’re gone or find another way to avoid thinking about you.

I’ll go for the latter since I’m dramatic, so I’ll say that he probably dedicated his time traveling and looking for gifted humans to join his coven

Caius

WRATH

Even Aros never seen him this angry, so he steps back and let’s him go off

For the next few trials he doesn’t even let aro finish saying the verdict he just Carrie’s out the sentencing

The guard walks on eggshells around him now

While he used to only be cold for trials now he’s heartless to everyone.

If he’s not in the throne room he is forcing Corin to use her gift on him, much to everyone’s dismay his grief is so great Corins gift has little effect on him

She has to be quick before Caius takes out his anger on her.

Aro and Marcus are the only ones who can speak to him, and probably force him into a group hug until he cries it out idk hard to see Caius getting over it

Marcus

Damn two mates???

This poor man

I’m sorry but there is no way he is convincing Aro to let him live after this

He is done with everything

I mean he got a second chance at love and happiness. He finally accepted he had another mate

The two of you were just getting used to being mates and then…

Bad. Just like that you were ripped from him again. He doesn’t even have it in him to want revenge he just blames himself for being a terrible mate. All he wants is for you to tell him you’re alright

If Aro doesn’t help him end it all he will find a way to do it himself

Demetri

He felt your tenor disappear before he saw it happen

He rushed to the spot where he felt your tenor last falling to his knees at seeing you gone

If it wasn’t for Felix he would have suffered the same fate but all he could see was your lifeless body. Probably wished he could be gone too

Felix has to drag him away from you.

Debates leaving the volturi but his friends are his only crutches at this point but he does take time away for years, and I do mean years to grieve. It’s not like anyone can track the tracker anyway so Aro is happy he decides to come back at all

Puts all of his focus on missions.

He can’t sleep but this boy is exhausted. The other guards do not leave his side. He will randomly break out crying and they are there to comfort to the best of their abilities

Felix

Oh my god imagine this poor baby

Like he will be beating himself up for the rest of his immortal life, he will feel like it’s his fault even though it isnt

Very resentful to the volturi for awhile because he feels like if had just been you two you would still be around

The strongest vampire in the world, the only vampire to never lose a fight, losing his mate?? Unspeakable pain

I imagine he holds you as long as he can. Half screaming half sobbing. He keeps all of your things to hang on to your scent as long as possible

During this time he is probably at his worst so if anyone wanted to take him out it would be then because he is distracted and grieving obviously Demetri and the twins won’t let that happen but still

After he processes you are really gone the executioner facade he puts on for trials becomes his how he lives day to day.

He doesn’t see a reason to try and turn it off anymore and he feels like he is betraying you if he feels any positive type of emotion

Besides Marcus I feel like he takes it the hardest, and before any of you come for me and say alec he still has his sister in the long run

Alec

It had been hard for him to accept he had a mate to begin with

You had helped him not be so reserved and trust others more

And honestly he’s more angry than he is hurt

You guys were supposed to have forever and you left him. Deep down he knows it wasn’t anything either of you could control but it doesn’t make him any less angry

Like Caius this boy becomes colder than ever before. He tried to use his gift in himself often even though it doesn’t work.

He doesn’t even really let Jane see him really break down but she knows how much it affects him and is always waiting for him to be done so she can keep him company

Never lets anyone in again

Jane

PAIN

Do you know that scene in wandavision where Wanda is so overcome with grief her power explodes out of her like never before to create westview? That’s what happens to Jane

Like I feel for whoever was in the vicinity when she was told you were gone

The scream she would release would be primal

Everyone in the vicinity would feel her pain until she stopped screaming. Even Alec. No one questioned her devotion to her mate before but this….oof

She would regret not being more affections and touchy with you

No one but Alec and Aro are allowed to talk to her, and they both have to tread lightly because her grief makes it hard to control her gift

Unlike Alec she was more stubborn in her ways to let people in and change, so while Alec regrets letting anyone in she regrets not letting her mate in more

No mercy. If she’s sent out in missions she will be the executioner. No second chances period. Would have been cool if this had happened during eclipse so we could have skipped all of breaking dawn tbh

Heidi

Can’t leave my girl out

She lost you while you were away on a mission

And boy I feel bad for whoever was with you and wasn’t able to save you

She is in a state of disbelief, she half expects you to walk in any second. The guard pities her because some days she really believes it

When you inevitably don’t show up she’s a mess. A MESS.

Aro was very concerned at first because she wasn’t getting enough people for the tours until he found out she was taking her revenge in the group that couldn’t help you

Surprisingly did not get upset but warned to not do that again

She did not listen. She isn’t a fighter and can’t do much so she takes her revenge differently. Literally tells Aro to let her go if he wants to. Obviously he doesn’t.

Finds way to distract herself when she isn’t working to stop herself from crying all the time

[tea-and-spoons]

Today’s Tips: Crutches

Hello hello!  I have been a part-time crutches user for the past… three years?  So today I’m going to share some little tips I’ve learned along the way.  I have never used a cane, but I think a lot of this might apply to canes too.

-If you’re trying to decide if you need a mobility aid or not, the answer is yes.  You don’t have to be unable to walk without it to use a mobility aid!  If you think it would help, go for it!  Using my crutches lets me walk farther, with less pain, and less falling, and the freedom is wonderful.  I’m pretty sure that if you’re debating, it’s definitely worth a try.  And if you’re here because crutches are already required for you, that’s good too and I hope you still find what makes them work best for you.

-Decorate!  Personalize!  Bedazzle!  I am a huge advocate for changing the look of your mobility aid to whatever makes you happy.  I scraped all the logos off my crutches, spray painted them blue, and added flower stickers on the cuffs, and it always makes me smile.  Just because they only sell what you need in boring medical colors doesn’t mean you have to keep it that way.  My theory is, I’m going to get stared at either way, I might as well have crutches I like:)

-If you leave it standing up, it WILL fall over.  Seriously, it seems like every time I try to leave my crutches propped up against something, they fall down and make a ton of noise at a very inconvenient time.  If you have to leave them standing up so you can reach them, I wish you luck, and suggest putting them somewhere that minimizes getting bumped into.  Sometimes I lean mine on my legs under the table and that works pretty well.  But most of the time, I lie my crutches down alongside a table or wall, or underneath my chair.  Bonus, this also keeps people from stepping on them so much.

-Forearm crutches vs underarm crutches.  I generally see your regular underarm crutches used for more short term things, like a sprained ankle, but they might also be a better choice if you have limited arm strength.  They also feel more stable if you can’t put any weight on one leg.  I was told that forearm crutches take way more strength, but in my experience, it’s not as bad as I was told, even though I have floppy, spaghetti-noodle Ehlers-Danlos arms (although I do also have the special forearm crutches for people with EDS)  It’s really nice that the forearm crutches are shorter, so they’re easier to store and don’t stab you in the armpit if you’re walking on uneven ground.  In my opinion, they’re just overall easier to maneuver and better for when both legs need support.  Plus, I can let them hang from the cuffs and have my hands free for a moment.  The other thing I noticed with underarm crutches vs forearm crutches is how people treat me.  With regular underarm crutches, I got a lot of “Oh no what happened?!” and “Get well soon!”, none of which apply to me.  With forearm crutches, people seem to get that it’s more of a lifelong disability deal. I was trying to write an unbiased paragraph here, but I guess it’s pretty clear I have a strong preference!  But really, the best option is whatever meets your needs.

-Proper fitting.  If you have access to a physical therapist or other professional who can help you fit your crutches, I would highly recommend taking advantage of that.  Crutches that aren’t adjusted right can wreak havoc on your posture and alignment, and even cause secondary injuries (which is the last thing you need!)  If you don’t have access to a PT, I think these links have some good information:  

https://www.physicaltherapy101.net/forearm-lofstrand-crutches/

https://www.physicaltherapy101.net/walking-assistance/crutches/ 

-Pace yourself.  If your situation allows you to gradually work up to how much time you spend with crutches, you’ll be much less sore!  If not, try to take breaks before you really need them, to prevent the worst of the ouch.

-Carrying things.  This is going to be frustrating, but it also gets easier as you adjust and learn what works for you.  First things first, it’s totally okay to ask for help!  You are not a burden, you are not lazy, no matter what anyone else tells you.  It’s okay to need help.  And for when you are carrying things by yourself, here are some tips:  Pockets!  Very very good.  Backpack or fanny pack or purse is also good.  I’ve seen some people attach a bag to the crutch itself, but in my experience, that makes it hard to control the crutch and you lose your balance a lot.  I’ve also perfected the art of holding something with my pinky and ring finger, while still holding the crutch handgrip with the other side of my hand.  Sliding things along a table instead of carrying is a great one for cooking.  Getting everything you need within reach and then just sitting is also a good strategy to save spoons. 

-Actually getting around!  I think the best thing might be to practice with your crutches on a day you don’t actually need them so you can experiment.  I know that’s not always possible though, and I promise you can also learn as you go too.  For me, doors are the hardest part, so automatic openers are my friends.  My best tricks for doors without automatic openers are:  open door really far and speed through, or use crutch leg or tip to prop door open while you go through.  Although I have gotten my crutch tip stuck under the door like that before so maybe that’s not the best advice…  Again, it’s totally okay to ask for help!  And you’ll get the hang of it with practice.

-Crutches in winter.  Not fun.  If you’re using regular long crutches, they’re going to get stuck in slush or snow on the sidewalk.  I haven’t tried them, but I also know they sell special crutch tips for ice, because regular ones are slippy.  I don’t really have any advice here, so this is more of a caution, and a suggestion to plan ahead!

-Especially if crutches are new for you, you’re going to be all kinds of tired.  The way you walk is now totally different, and you have to re-adjust how you do just about everything, which takes a LOT of mental energy.  It’s totally okay to be frustrated and tired and sad.  It won’t always be this hard, you’ll find adjustments that work for you.  And don’t be afraid to use the resources and accommodations available to you!  They’re there to help you and you deserve support.

I hope you found this helpful, and I would love to see if you decide to decorate your mobility aid too!

Edit:  I just learned a new trick for crutches and doors!  When you’re trying to open the door, make sure you’re standing clear outside of the arc of where the door swings. Otherwise you’ll be trying to inch backwards and drag the door with you, and that’s a great way to fall down.  So just move to the side and let the door swing open. 

[mianavs]

meeting the zoldycks pt. 1

part 7 of Cathexis

a/n: we’re finally here~ splitting this up into 2 parts to make it more readable.

wc: 2.2k

Cathexis

Pangs of pain from your leg jostled you awake to a foreign room. With your instincts kicking in, you tried moving only to realize your right leg was in a hard cast and the events that led to your injury replayed in your head ending with the feel of Illumi’s strong arms carrying you to his car. 

Your eyes examined the dimly lit but well-furbished room for a hint that would dispel the growing fear in your chest regarding your whereabouts only to watch a Zoldyck butler come in with a tray of medical supplies that included a syringe needle.

Before you could utter a word, the young female butler set down the tray and rushed out of the room.

Anxious, you dragged your body to the edge of the bed and ignored the growing ache in your leg. Just when you were about to set your legs over the edge, purple bruising on your arm caught your eye and halted your progress. Darting your eyes up to the syringe needle the butler brought in, your mind pieced together everything and the realization you’d been sedated broke your composure.

Like clockwork, the door opened to reveal Illumi who entered the room and closed the door behind him. He approached your bed and trailed his impassive eyes over your form, lingering on your casted leg, before breaking the silence.

“How do you feel?”

“How long have I been here?” Your voice was hoarse from disuse but that didn’t stop the questions spilling from your lips. “Why am I here? What happened to bodies? Where’s my phone?”

Illumi’s eyes narrowed the slightest before repeating his question but you disregarded his question yet again.

“I need to get out of here. Ruo Wen is prob—”

Illumi’s bloodlust cut you off as the air in the room seemed to thicken and your surroundings blurred until all you could focus on was the man before you. Beads of cold sweat dotted your skin as fear coursed through your veins in the presence of such malicious Ren. You were trembling like a leaf when Illumi spoke once again.

“How. Do. You. Feel?”

You opened you mouth to speak but nothing came out as your eyes remained fixed on Illumi’s. As if he was pleased with your shaken state of mind, the bloodlust receded and your vision and breathing returned to normal.

“…F-fine! I’m fine…can I go now?” You sputtered, still reeling from the malice that’d permeated the air seconds ago.

Illumi quirked his head. “Not in this state. Your leg needs to heal completely.”

“I can recover at home just as easily.”

Illumi’s face twisted into an eerie smile. “After your little incident, I don’t think I can trust you being on your own—at least not like this.” His eyes trailed to your injured leg and your face flushed in embarrassment at the reminder of your defeat against Saul’s men.

“It was your fault he came for me.” You muttered, avoiding Illumi’s haunting gaze.

“I know. That’s why I took the job to kill him.” He replied absent-mindedly.

“So, you weren’t tracking me?” You cringed at how the question sounded but one look at Illumi’s oblivious face eased your embarrassment.

“No, I knew you were in Meteor City and, after reading up on his recent movements, I figured he would try to harm you.”

You were quiet as Illumi’s words sunk in. Despite the twisted reasoning behind it, you had to admit he’d saved your life and you were grateful. Besides, he was right regarding your current state; you wouldn’t be able to work with your leg in a cast. If you stayed at the Zoldyck mansion, you wouldn’t have to worry about medical bills, treatment, food, or running into your parent’s if they happened to drop by your condo.

“I’ll stay here until my leg heals but—”

“I’ll be sure to compensate you for your injuries and for the time you won’t be working.” Illumi dug into his pocket and fished out your phone before handing it to you. “Your boss called you a couple days ago.”

Scrolling through your missed calls, you looked up to ask the question you’d first asked him only to see Illumi closing the door behind him. The curse on your lips died when a notification from your bank confirmed the deposit of your compensation and you lied back down with a sigh before closing your eyes and going back to sleep.

It was a week after the incident when boredom lured you out of your room with the help of the crutches Canary brought you. While Illumi was on a mission, Canary had been the one tending to your needs and providing her companionship while you recovered. You quickly grew fond of the younger girl and appreciated her friendly personality. However, you couldn’t suppress your hunter instinct any longer and decided to roam the mansion in search for intel on Illumi and the Zoldycks.

As you hobbled down the hallways of the mansion, you noticed they were as dimly lit as your room with only a few lamps adorning the stone walls. You couldn’t help but chuckle how much the home reflected the ominous reputation of its inhabitants.

The possibility of running into one of the Zoldycks was one that you welcomed regardless of how dangerous it seemed. You needed to know more about the other family members—particularly Silva and Zeno—and what better way than to do it face to face.

Just when your arms began to ache after wandering for what seemed like an hour, a flash of white hair from the corner of your eyes caught your attention and you found yourself face to face with the third son, Killua Zoldyck.

You froze, unsure of what to say to the boy, but spoke when he turned around to head in the opposite direction.

“Wait! Do you know where I can rest?” Holding your breath until he turned, you plastered a pained smile on your face and leaned against the wall. “I think I overdid it.”

He was entirely different from Illumi. Where Illumi was inscrutable, you could see a myriad of emotions on Killua’s face that ranged from surprise, confusion, and finally concession. With an exasperated sigh, he closed the distance between you.

“There’s a small library nearby. Follow me.” His tone was harsh but he walked slowly enough for you to keep up with him.

The library was brighter than the hallways, with a large window letting sunlight stream in. It was fairly large with several bookcases filled with books, a couples of lounge chairs, a table, and a lit fireplace. The room was almost cozy and you let out a sigh of relief when you collapsed on the comfortable chair. Killua took your crutches and leaned them against your armrest before taking a seat in the adjacent to you.

“Thank you…” Debating whether or not to call him by his name, you trailed off only for Killua to interject.

“Killua.” He sounded hesitant but curious, nonetheless. “You’re my brother’s fiancé aren’t you.”

“Y/N L/N. I’m not his fiancé yet. I still have a couple months left of freedom.” Adding the last bit to feel out the nature of his relationship with Illumi, you were pleased to hear the chortle that escaped the Killua.

“Guess I’m not the only one who finds Illumi suffocating.” The sadness in his eyes betrayed his joking tone and you wondered just how suffocating Illumi’s presence was to his younger brother. “So how did you get hurt?”

You told him about Rivero’s death, your job in Meteor City, and the encounter with Saul and his men ending in their deaths at the hand of Illumi. Killua was quick to point out Illumi as the root cause of your accident and you quickly found yourself warming up to him.

“Illumi will kill anyone who interferes with his plans. He also likes to control those around him.”

“So I’ve noticed.” You said and rubbed the back of your neck where Illumi’s needle had once been embedded. “Sounds like you don’t agree with his ways.”

Killua visibly tensed and you wondered if you went too far. Just when you were going to backtrack, Killua’s body deflated in defeat before scanning the room for intruders despite being the only two people present.

“Illumi and my father expect me to be an assassin for the rest of my life but I don’t want to keep killing people.” Killua admitted, fidgeting with the material of his shorts.

“And what do you want to do?”

Killua’s eyes widened as they met yours and you couldn’t help but feel for the younger boy. “I…I want to have fun.”

You reached over and placed your hand over his. “Then you should go and have fun. This is our only life so we should do the things we want to do—not what other’s want us to do.”

“Then why don’t you try to break off things with Illumi. If it’s contract-based then there should be ways to null it.”

Watching Killua wrack his brain for ways to break off your betrothal caused a surge of warmth to spread across your chest. He was nothing like Illumi or the rumors that circulated regarding the Zoldycks and you felt grateful to have met him first. With your mind clouded by emotions, you let your guard down even more and opened your mouth to tell Killua about your plan.

“Actually, my parents and I are—”

The door swung open to reveal an old man with white hair. You raised your guard and shut your mouth as Zeno Zoldyck shuffled over to you and Killua. With the opportunity to find out more about the Zoldycks and your marriage deal before you, the corners of your mouth rose to mimic a shy smile and you lowered your gaze.

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Zoldyck.”

You looked up to find him sitting next to Killua as he regarded you before smirking. “I’m sure you are.”

He saw behind your smile and sugar-coated words but you continued the façade to avoid a confrontation you weren’t ready for. “Thank you for allowing me to recover in your home, Mr. Zoldyck, and I apologize for the inconvenience.”

“Call me Zeno,” he replied, crossing his arms. “Mr. Zoldyck is my son. As for your stay, it’s no inconvenience, after all, this will be your home soon enough.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.” The words tasted bitter as they left your mouth. You felt helpless in front of the man responsible for your betrothal and the urge to leave the mansion returned.

“How has your recovery been?”

“Huh?”

The question brought you back from your thoughts and you found Zeno studying your face the way Illumi did only you could see a twinge of genuine interest in his eyes.

“Oh, it’s been going well. My leg is almost completely healed thanks to Canary’s care.”

Zeno smiled at the mention of the young butler. “It’s good to hear Canary has served you well.”

“Did Illumi ask you for Canary?” Killua interjected but Zeno merely chuckled and shook his head.

“No, I offered her up when I heard what happened to Y/N.” Zeno then turned to you. “You see, Canary is under my supervision and, as your grandfather’s granddaughter, I wanted to make sure you were cared for.”

Zeno’s words caught you off guard. You’d always assumed Zeno hated your deceased grandfather for the large debt, so finding out that he personally sent one of his butlers to attend you was a revelation you hadn’t expected.

“Were you close with my grandfather?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t have lent him so much money if we weren’t” The old man laughed while you tried to make sense of the information you’d been given.

“I just assumed you held a grudge against him for the massive amount of debt.” You admitted, hoping Zeno would disclose more.

“Perhaps at one point I did, but he was a good friend despite his poor money management skills. Illumi told me he got into debt with other people and that you and your parents are paying off that debt.”

Your throat closed at the mention of the “other debt” lie you’d told Illumi. It wasn’t that you weren’t prepared to recount the lie to Zeno or the other Zoldycks but the way he said it, made you doubt it’s effectiveness.

Gone was the geniality on Zeno’s face as his eyes searched for a chink in your armor that he could exploit. Knowing you were on thin ice, you played off your surprise as embarrassment over the large amounts of debt your late grandfather owed others which seemed to get Zeno off your tail.

Killua saved you by changing the topic to your work experience as a hunter and you were more than happy to oblige with tales of your jobs from the most difficult, interesting, and just flat out weird. Killua seemed to enjoy your tales while Zeno would nod occasionally to show he was listening but never commented. Eventually, Killua asked about the Hunter Exam but just then a knock on the door interrupted you and the door swung open to reveal Gotoh, one of the butlers you were familiar with, who informed Zeno that dinner was being served.

“You should join us, Y/N.” Zeno declared and you knew it wasn’t a suggestion. “My son and his wife would like to meet you.”

[zoradementio]

Deltarune Theories and Observations Part 2

Since it’s been like three weeks and this game still hasn’t left my god damn brain, here’s some more things that I felt like noting or theorizing.

~Parallels of Noelle and Kris~

So, I ended my last Deltarune longpost with a comparison between Kris and Susie. But, interestingly enough, Kris and Noelle also have a lot of similarities. Both of them have an older sibling figure who was a very prominent crutch in their lives (Asriel for Kris, Dess for Noelle). Yet, in present times, this elder sibling is not present (though Dess’ is a bit more permanent, whether she died or went missing.) And compared to these older siblings, Kris and Noelle are the more introverted sibling, with Kris barely having a social life until the start of the game and Noelle being the biggest pushover since a card tower. Then, there’s their parental dynamics. Asgore and Rudy are both the carefree, laidback father figures, with Asgore immediately throwing Kris in a bear hug when seeing them and Rudy encouraging Noelle to ask Susie out and playing Dragon Blazers with her. This contrasts with the more proper, if strict mother figures. While Noelle’s mother is certainly the more egregious, if the fact that Noelle would rather stand outside her home’s gates likely for hours on end than to attempt to ‘bother’ her mother during work for a house key, there are a few signs of Toriel being a little strict in some areas. Apart from some dialogue from Bratty about her kissing Asriel and anything involving the big school dance being signs that Toriel does not approve of her kids, or any of her students for that matter, getting into anything even remotely romantic, the flavor text for the closet in Kris’ Dark World room being ‘You could wear whatever you want’ suggests that Toriel imposes some sort of a dress code on Kris and likely also Asriel when he was living at home. They’re also the two characters most susceptible to the SOUL, in other words you the player. Kris’ is a bit more direct, as they are the character we control in both their movements and what they say. While Noelle, considering she has such a weak will, she is fairly mailable if we impose our will onto her, as demonstrated in the Pipis Route. Finally, they both have a strong attachment towards Susie, though whether Kris’ is romantic or not is not entirely clear as of yet. Oh, and speaking of Noelle...

~The Return of Noelle~

In at least one of the future chapters, I believe Noelle will make a come back as a party member. I don’t think Toby Fox would make it this easy to just lose whatever equipment you put on her, especially if you give her the Jevilstail or if the Pipis Route has been fully completed you will lose a component of the Twisted Sword, which will presumably be available in future chapters. Therefore, I believe that Noelle will be playable again, at least at some point.

~Misanthropic Dysmorphia~

So, many people have seen the connections that Kris has to Chara (or The Fallen Child) from Undertale. They both love chocolate, are the adopted children of Toriel and Asgore, and seem to have an affinity for knives. But if there is one more connection they have, it’s that they both seem to hate humans. Now, while don’t know the reasons as to why Chara hated humans, it was enough for them to want to slaughter an entire village of people, going overboard with the body count when only 6 souls were needed to break the barrier. While Kris likely isn’t as genocidal as Chara was, their distaste for humanity runs just as deep. However, Kris’ misanthropy manifests as a form of body dysmorphia. As a child, they wondered when their horns would grow in like their brother and parents, showing that, at least at that point Kris didn’t understand the biological differences between themself and those around them. Not only that, but in Chapter 2, when going upstairs in the library and reading the book ‘How to Care for Humans’, when looking at the pages Kris immediately closes the book when seeing the pictures of humans in seeming disgust. It wouldn’t be too much of a surprise if Kris hates the fact that they’re human, seeing as that is the big thing that makes them an outsider to Hometown. It would also explain why they seem to hate the SOUL/Player, even if you play as pacifistically as possible and don’t do anything to intentionally upset Kris like throwing away the Ball of Junk in the Light World. After all, Kris’ description in the Dark World as soon as you enter it in Chapter 1 is ‘A body containing a human SOUL’. Apart from just generally being upset that some outside force is controlling their actions, Kris is also likely pissed that a human is the one controlling them, because, assumedly, you or anyone else that plays Deltarune is going to be a human. That could be just some extra salt in the wound, that even Kris’ own soul is not only human but not even their own.

~Darkner’s History(?)~

This is something strange that I don’t think a lot of people think about. So, I notice a lot of people point out that Ralsei knows that both his Dark Fountain and the Fountain from Chapter 1 are located in a supply closet and a classroom respectively. Most people point to this as evidence that Ralsei knows something, however Ralsei isn’t the only one with knowledge of the Light World. Queen does have a line or two about knowing that her Dark World is within a library. So clearly, Darkners have at least some awareness of the Light World, or at least enough about their enclosed spaces and possibly limited to appointed rulers or some such. What isn’t so clear is how long these Dark Worlds have lasted. Sure, portals to the Dark Worlds seem like only a recent thing, there is talk about the history of these characters. Just within Chapter 1 there’s King overthrowing the other three card kings and taking the throne all to himself, Jevil meeting a mysterious figure causing him to go mad and thus needing to be locked up by Seam, a presumably long series of puzzle makers syphoned out before Roulxs became the Duke of Puzzles, and some kind of falling out between Queen and King (which also brings up the question of when and why was Queen’s laptop in the abandoned classroom). My point being, despite these Dark Worlds being open for maybe a day or two at best, there seems to be almost years worth of history to these places. It could be a case of ‘one day passes inside, but only about an hour has passed outside’ thing or it could be that Dark Worlds still technically exists even without a Dark Fountain. So far, though, I can’t offer any concrete answers to this. And actually, since I brought up his suspicious behavior once again...

~Communication Issues~

I already talked about how Ralsei is suspicious in an out-of-universe perspective here, but in universe he is acting rather suspicious. Namely, around Susie. When Kris and Susie return to Castle Town, Ralsei tells Kris to gather everything in the adjacent classroom and bring it here. Everyone becomes their Darkner counterparts and Susie is naturally excited to see everyone, especially Lancer. Ralsei then says, and only says, that ‘when the Dark Fountain was sealed, that area returned to a normal classroom. And when Lancer decides to become one of you KEY ITEMS, Ralsei doesn’t explain that Darkners become regular objects in the Light World, causing Susie to think Lancer ditched them when Kris and Susie leave to work on their group project. And during the Chapter 2 epilogue, Susie even suggests finding a way to bring Ralsei and Lancer into the Light World, despite that seeming to be an impossibility. That’s not even mentioning the post Spamton NEO dialogue where Susie is the first to bring up the oddities of the whole scenario, and Ralsei immediately chooses to shoot down any questioning. Ralsei seemingly keeps Susie out of the loop on a lot of important things about how the Dark World works. Now, Susie doesn’t really question these things, but that’s mostly because 1. she is a very ‘only cares about the here and now’ type of person and is very excited about the whole Dark World shenanigans her, Kris and Ralsei get up to, and 2. this girl is dense enough to not immediately catch on the Noelle is crushing so hard on her a neon sign saying ‘SHE LIKES YOU’ would be a more subtle message. Now, it could be that Ralsei sees Susie in a much more ‘need to know’ basis, that since she is isn’t really the group plan-maker, she doesn’t need to know the intricacies of how the Dark Worlds, the Fountains, and everything works. It also could be that the player, and by extension Kris, are more important and thus will be needed this information more than Susie. However, I still hesitate to say that Ralsei is malicious in action. What I think would be the most likely reason, if his explanation of the Roaring and Queen’s reaction to it are any indication, it looks like Ralsei’s fatal flaw is assuming his knowledge is common knowledge. After all, he assumed that Queen was opening another Dark Fountain because she wanted to destroy the world, when that couldn’t be further from the case. In all likelihood, Ralsei could be overestimating how perceptive Susie really is when it comes to putting details together.

~Only One Ending...?~

This is something a few people have been debating for a while now. Back when Chapter 1 was released in 2018, Toby Fox said that Deltarune would only have one ending. However, with the addition of Chapter 2′s Pipis Route, many of us are wondering if that was a flat out lie or not. My assumption goes one of two ways. Option A: It was true at the time. During the three year development of Chapter 2 a lot, and I mean a LOT, of things about Deltarune have changed. Initially the game was going to be another mostly solo development similar to Undertale. But, with the larger workload and Toby Fox working on other projects like developing music for the Pokemon games, and on top of all of that going through some pretty bad wrist pains, Fox decided to get a small development team for Deltarune. There were debates on whether to switch Deltarune’s game engine to something like Unity, before settling back to Game Maker. And even when Chapter 1 was released, it was more of a proof of concept than anything, with barely any of the rest of the story being written down. It wouldn’t be too much of a surprise if Toby Fox decided to add some more endings because he thought that would work better for what he was going for. Or, Option B: It will be one ending, but in the same way the Normal Ending in Undertale is ‘one ending’. See, while Deltarune likes to emphasize that ‘your choses don’t matter’ and in Undertale ‘your choses do matter’, in actuality, the choses in both games have roughly the same weight. Sure, in Undertale it seems like your choses have more of an impact, but the basic story beats of the game are all the same. You will always fall into the underground, get quasi-adopted by Toriel, go through a wacky puzzle romp with Papyrus, get hunted by Undyne through Waterfall, guest star in Mettaton’s shows with Alphys as your guide, and finally make it to New Home. And there were still some minor questions in Undertale that really had no bearing on what you answered, such as Toriel’s question of if you prefer cinnamon or butterscotch. But because Undertale frames it with ‘your choses matter’ and Deltarune frames it in ‘your choses don’t matter’ we see it as such. So, when it comes to the endings, there really are only three endings in Undertale. The True Genocide ending, where you go all the way through with killing everyone and everything in the Underground, the True Pacifist Ending, where you SPARED everything you came across and completed the necessary friendship side quests, and the Normal Ending. Now, the Normal Ending sounds like a pretty narrow term, considering there’s like at least around 10 different variations of this ending, but the basic plot beats are still the same: You finish the fight with Asgore, fight Omega Flowey, and using the power of the other six souls you (as Frisk) are able to return above ground. Most of what makes this ending different is pretty much flavor text at the very end, with Sans and which ever other characters that are alive/befriended chiming in. I feel like Deltarune’s ending could play out in a similar vein, with larger plot beats being consistent, but specific character’s reactions and what not would change up the ending slightly. And, if we are only given one ending, I feel like there would be a good reason to word it like that. Similarly to what was said some time after on Toby Fox’s twitter about the True Pacifist ending, ‘This is the best ending, nothing more’ when people were wondering if there was a way to save Asriel from his fate in the end. So, if we are told there will be only ‘one ending’ that implies that there’s going to be something we’ll want to change. And what will this change be? Well...

~Don’t Forget, I’m With You In The Dark~

I believe that the ending of Deltarune will involve sealing the Castle Town Fountain. A lot of what’s set up in Deltarune seems to be leading to this. From the suspiciousness of Ralsei, to the premonition of the world ending if too many fountains are open, to the fact that Darkners are unable to consciously interact with the Light World. I’m pretty sure that we’re going to have to say good bye to Ralsei, Lancer, Rouxls, Seam, Queen, and all the rest of the Darkners by the end. And let’s face it, this ending would be the best punch to the gut that the game could offer. But I don’t think it will be all sad. After all, the Darkners will still be with us in spirit, will still be with us in the dark.

[angeli-marco-writes]

∘◦ ♥ ◦∘ Peter Parker - Everything Happens for a Reason ∘◦ ♥ ◦∘

A/N - I only wrote it a couple of months ago and due to the close nature of it, I haven’t uploaded it anywhere. I hope you like my first (10k) Peter Parker fic. I know that the timeline doesn’t make sense, but in all honesty, Endgame and FFH messed it up plenty so I just kinda placed this in no-mans-time. And I know the compound was destroyed during Endgame, so just bear with the fact that I’ve made it so that Strange and his wizards rebuilt it for survivors :)

Warnings - making out and shadows to sex, SWEARING, bad parenting, mentions of grief, mentions of injury and disability, angst, death of parents etc. Also, don’t read if you haven’t seen endgame because it’ll be spoiled in the first paragraph of this. 

Summary - Stark!reader x Peter Parker, post endgame. Months after the death of your father, your aunt, and the retirement of your uncle, you find yourself in a sticky situation, and to make it even worse, your childhood crush doesn’t even recognise you now. Then again, doing most of your growing up while half of the population is dead doesn’t exactly bode well for your love life nor your commitment issues. When things finally start to turn around while learning to live with a disability, will you still be taken away to live with your step-mother, or will love pan out at last? After all, everything happens for a reason. 

IT'S BEEN JUST OVER THREE MONTHS since the final battle, and therefore just over three months since you said goodbye to the only three role models you had for the most important five years of your life. Well, the three are debatable. 

Your dad had died, still holding your hand, after saving humanity like he always did, allowing the burden of the Stark name to fall onto you at long last. Your uncle Steve - tutor extraordinaire - had officially retired and moved away, and you haven’t seen him since the final goodbye, leaving you more and more doubtful every day you’ll ever see him again. And your aunty Nat let herself go, she pushed herself away from that cliff, and let uncle Clint live, to help give you a better life, but what Nat didn’t realise was that you lost them both that day, because Clint hasn’t been back since. He’s never coming back now from the trauma, the man who was more of a father than your dad ever was.

It was quite possibly the worst period of your whole life, but then again, when half of the world is destroyed before you’ve even hit puberty, you don’t really have much to hold it against.

But here you are again, stuck in your room in the semi-rebuilt compound, grounded by FRIDAY while the step monster and child are at the lake house, living happily ever after. What the issue is, you don’t know. All you did was get a piercing... and be rude to Peter. And Sam. And everyone in the building- ok maybe she has a point, but hey, you’re grieving the loss of everyone major in your life, and you can barely do anything for yourself.

It’s like five years ago all over again. Everyone you’d grown accustomed to, your friends, your mom, your idols - even if they weren’t dead, they were lost for a long time - and your crush. The one and only Peter Parker. Much to your surprise, you got over most of the deaths pretty quickly. There wasn’t much to understand - they were gone and they wouldn’t come back no matter what, so what good would worrying and crying do? Obviously, as a young girl, this was the wrong response, so this is when Pepper got her name. “Don’t be so insensitive! Those were your dad's best friends, people he worked with for years. Those people were his family, and mine, and yours.”

You scoffed at her, the way you always seemed to do. “Yeah, ok. But my mum died, and am I making a fuss? No. She died for a reason, they all did,” and under your breath, you added “I still just need to figure that reason out.”

You held back from the obvious “they were my family too” bullshit, because your dad never believed that, even when you spent most of your time at his house with the Avengers instead of him. It wasn’t that you hated your mom or your dad, you loved them both equally and spent time with them both, but when one dies and one goes missing and spirals into lord knows what after going missing in space with a blue alienoid, everything gets a little complicated and stops making sense. Spending more time with your dad was scary too, seeing the intricacies of Avengers life in a capacity which you didn’t understand for a long time growing up. That only lasted for a year before he took off and made you be a tennis ball in a flawed game between him and Rhodey. Every weekend for five years you drove from the compound to the lake house. You lost out on a lot from that, and your dad didn’t even seem phased, because he had Morgan. 

But beneath all of the hatred that had made you so rebellious since you turned fifteen, there was something deeper.

Considering how stone faced and resolute you are and always have been, considering how harsh you are about the realities and never getting caught up in mindless emotions, no matter how much you claim that your grieving time was over the second that you pushed your dad's heart away, mere weeks after feeling his pulse drop as you laced your fingers with his, no one would believe that it was all a lie.

Every night since that snap more than five years ago, you’ve done the same thing. Make a cup of hot chocolate (an iced decaf latte if it was summer), and you’d take it to bed and just cry until you could no more and simply fell asleep. You weren’t even sure why you cried, because after all there wasn’t really any reason to. The world was moving on, albeit slower than before, and your life  was about as much locked into place as it could be with Tony Stark as your father, but the crying just felt obligatory. After ten, FRIDAY always turned off in your room, that was the agreement your mom had with your dad whenever you stayed there, although you weren’t sure why it made a difference, and it just stuck, so no one saw the pointless tears, no one heard, and no one cared. The only one who ever did care enough whenever you cried had been snapped away, and now he was back, you were just another repugnant face in the crowds, or so you’d guess with the way he looked down upon you.

 “It’s ok dad,” you said with a completely straight face, your hard eyes locked onto his, your entire being completely void of emotion, “you can go to sleep.”

He squeezed your hand with his forefinger and middle finger, very lightly, and he just croaked out his final words to you, “my beautiful Sloane, so brave.” So quiet that they were only decipherable to you.

“Life functions critical,” the Irish accent rang in your ears.

Pete had already said his goodbyes, but now it was Pepper’s turn as she wiped your dad's tears away. This time you should’ve been there for each other, a support for one another, after all, they were losing him together and were in the same boat, but sometimes even grief can’t bring people together. 

“Tony, look at me. We’re going to be ok..” she pleaded. 

Your dad's eyes moved from yours to hers, a sluggish movement that took the remaining life from him. He moved his lips to form two words that broke your heart, because you knew that they were directed at all of you, and they meant so much more than anyone else could understand. Those words were his attempt at making up for being such a shit dad. ‘I’m sorry.’ 

Pepper kissed him. “You can rest now.”

You didn’t even look around to see anyone else’s face , especially not Peters or Peppers, because as soon as his pulse stopped and his skin slipped from your grip, his body cold, you knew that the chapter of your life with your father in it was over, so you pulled your mask back over your face, and strutted away, as far as possible. You ignored your limp completely, because with all of the numbness, it was like you couldn’t even feel the pain. Except you didn’t disappear, no way, you couldn’t. You watched as they all knelt for him, for the man who missed all of your firsts in life, who was absent when you needed a father and a friend and a leader, and even though you were chronically broken within, every terrible emotion gnawing at you, screaming at you to just feel something and express it; you didn’t. You suppressed it all, and walked away. And of no surprise to you at all, no one followed, or even noticed you were gone.

After all, Tony Stark died for a reason, and at least this time you knew what that reason was. 

 “Miss?” Someone’s snapping their fingers beside your ear, driving you mental but also snapping you awake from whatever dream that was, reliving the scariest day of your life. “Miss, you fell asleep at the table. We’re clearing it for dinner, please.”

You roll your eyes up at him, instantly recognising Pete’s voice, but you just don’t care. He doesn’t even know who you are. So you scoff, the way you did at Pepper so long ago, and you leave without a second glance.

“Are you a relative of Nat’s? I- I heard someone was coming over to stay...” his voice yells down the corridor.

“You can’t be serious Peter. You don’t recognise me at all?”

And with that, you snatch your water bottle from the edge of the counter with your spare hand and resolutely stamp off down the corridor, your feet loosely wading in your docs with your crutch assisting you along the way.

You’re leaving soon, so you won’t have to deal with him. But you still have another year or two of high school to compete with, and with your tutor gone - your dad refused to send you back to school after the snap, so it was left up to whoever wanted the job, and Cap wanted it a lot more than he did, so you spent your weeks driving from the city to the lake house after finishing the weeks tutoring, to spend time with your ‘family’ - and now, you seriously doubted that anyone else would want the job. Bucky is too hormonal and grieving the loss of his best friend, Banner is freaking you out, Clint is off the grid from another breakdown and it’s like he’s not even human anymore, Wilson is too busy with his new training regime and fighting Buck, and Scott doesn’t know the first thing about what you need to learn thanks to his ditsy persona. Which only leaves Pepper and Rhodey, and which forces you to go back and live in the lake house, away from the shambles of the rebuilt compound, all thanks to Strange and his wizards.

Maybe this is what you need, because now you don’t have to see Pete and get offended every single time he forgets your name and doesn’t have a clue who you are.

That night, you skipped your crying routine, and felt no better nor worse off for doing so. You simply dosed up on your painkillers and drifted off to sleep, filled with irritation and dreams of a mousey hero.

 For the next couple of days, you’d just gone about your business and avoided the funny looks from all of the other Avengers at your foul demeanour. None of them that were in and out of the rebuilt compound ever really took notice of you anymore, and you weren’t sure that any of them recognised you anymore, not with all of the piercings and hair dye and the crutches. After all, the last time most of them knew you, you were an annoying child who watched them work and ate dinners with them, and your dinners consisted of smiley face waffles and chicken nuggets. And besides, you were perfectly able back then, and you often had little friends over, or your mom would pop in to say hi on your way home. There’s no chance of that happening anymore. Bucky had recognised you, smiled at you, and occasionally made jokes about you being crippled together, so with any issues you could just turn to him, but this Peter thing annoyed you too much to talk about it, and you didn’t know why. 

Speak of the devil-

“Hey, can I sit?” He asks, standing just behind the sofa and hovering awkwardly.

“I don’t care,” you say, all of your words merging and slurring. You signal to the seat beside you yet far enough away for him not to be a bother, and he takes it.

“So h-how are you?” 

You watch him suspiciously out of the corner of your eye, because you can just feel his eyes on you, namely on your tits that had suddenly appeared in the last few years. 

“I’m fine thank you, Peter. It’s not like no one knows who the fuck I am and I’m living in a literal post war, dystopian, apocalyptic world all alone. How are you, Spider-Man?”

He blanches before your eyes, and you can physically see any words die in the back of his throat.

“I-I’m good.”

Everything stills for a little while, and the only sounds are what's playing on TV and Peter’s occasional swallows, making his Adams apple Bob in your peripheral view. He doesn’t dare look at you, and you can just sense his agitation, mainly from the way he fidgets and weighs the sofa cushions down weirdly with his weird spider legs. 

It only takes half an hour for you to wear down and ask him the burning question, his presence beside you enough to make your skin tingle in anticipation and anger bubble within, not to mention the girlish sense that overwhelms you, so contrasting to your dark clothes and self-given bridge piercing. 

“Why don’t you speak to me anymore, Peter? Do you seriously not recognise me?”

His eyes fall and his face turns sallow, and he stammers over a few consonants, unable to form any real words.

“I’m Tony’s daughter.” You announce, facing him head on. “Y/N Stark.”

Only after you’ve said that do you realise that he’ll have absolutely no clue what you’re saying, but you can see the cogs whirring in his head as everything is pieced together. His eyes lock onto yours, and they’re the one feature you haven’t changed about yourself in the years that he was gone.

“I changed my name last year, I used to be-”

“-Sloane Stark.” he finishes with you. 

He doesn’t take his eyes off yours, too lost in them after he’s been without them for so long. Something’s clicked inside, but scepticism overtakes him. You grasp your hair into a makeshift ponytail at the base of your neck, all the loose ringlets in different shades tickling your neck, but it reveals a thin, pale, bumpy scar on your skin; a thin and jagged line that runs from the base of your ear to the start of your clavicle. You’ve had it since you were 11, when Peter first became a regular at the compound and you began to play together, but then an accident happened, and Peter stayed by your side as you got the stitches, holding your hand. 

Finally, he cottons on, and you can see the tears welling up in his chocolate brown orbs.

“Sloane…”

He virtually leaps from his seat and throws his arms around you, completely overcome with all kinds of inexplicable feelings. Love seeps from his body into yours, he clings to you, and even buries his nose into your hair, taking a deep inhalation before sighing in contentment. Even when the average hug time has passed, he doesn’t release you, and keeps his arms wrapped like a koala around your shoulders, his body slowly getting closer and closer towards you and for some reason making you blush. Your arms remain limp around him, and your forefinger traces figures on his lower back, but you don’t squeeze him as much as you did when the surprise of his cuddle attack first hit you. 

He eases himself away, but still keeps his hand on your arm, a gentle and warm presence. 

It doesn’t hit you for a while that it’s the first hug you’ve received in months, and the first one from Peter in five and a half years.

“I’m guessing that you didn’t snap away like the rest of us then…?” he asks shyly. 

His spare hand immediately retracts and rubs the back of his neck anxiously, just the way he used to, but only now do you understand why.

“Nah, I didn’t,” you say, “Sadly I was stuck here in this shambles of an earth, dealing with everyone else's depression and having a little sister forced upon me. I couldn’t even go to school, it was awful.”

His face falls into a deep frown and he searches your face for any sign of your words being cynical, but he finds nothing.

“W-why did you change your name then?”

You shrug, for what feels like the hundredth time in his presence, “Sloane is an awful name, it means ‘raider’ in bloody Irish. None of my family is Irish, my dad suggested the name when he was drunk, and my mum couldn’t think of anything better. Y/N makes me feel like me.”

He nods understandingly and doesn’t push the matter, so you offer a half smile and move your attention back to the TV.

“Why did you change you?” he asks all of a sudden.

The question instantly ingrains itself into your brain, and makes your heart ache. Why would he ask such a thing? Doesn’t he understand what's happened? Why does he even care? But the last thought makes you sick to your stomach, because you know that he always has cared and he always will, he promised you that the first time he was babysitting you and you got all het up over something on the TV. Maybe a part of him knew that it was you all along but he just couldn’t broach the subject, or maybe he didn’t and he thought you’d been snapped away and you simply hadn’t returned. No matter what it was,you knew that you couldn’t blame him, but as his question bounced around your brain and repeated, you had no idea what happened, but you felt any compassion shrivel up, your heart grew cold, your demeanour turned harsh, and your kind response died in your throat. You look him dead in the face and straighten yourself up, your eyes devoid of all feeling.

“My mom died, all of my idols and my family and school friends died - Scott, Buck, Sam, you - and my dad was never the same again. I was left with him and the step monster who, who for the record doesn't even like me because of my mom, and Morgan came along, so they forgot about me, and I only stayed three days a week because the rest of the time I was stuck here with a depressed Nat and  counsellor Steve, and the latter had to teach me everything I needed for the finish of middle school and my freshman and sophomore years, which was hard in itself. Dad was so depressed, he wouldn’t listen to the words I said about the other Avengers, so apart from Steve tutoring me, I basically raised myself for two years, without friends or anything, and they were two of the most important years of my life . Everyone forgot about me. I was just turned fifteen and more adept at coping in this world than any adult I’ve known. I hated my name and what came with it, and I never really liked myself, that's always been the case. I hated my appearance and I had no one to make me feel nice when you died, because you always told me that I was pretty, just like a princess, and you kept me sane. Fuck, Pete, you held me together, and all of that faded when you died, because as soon as you were gone, everything else around me crumbled.” You inhale a sharp intake of breath, and move to stand, snatching your crutches from the floor. “Long story short, while all of you were gone, I grew up. I’m 17 now, I may be different to how you remember but at least I feel comfortable now. I really did grow up peter, and you need to start doing the same. My dad is never coming back.”

And just like the days before, you scurry off back to your room and bury any inhibitions beneath your pillow, leaving Peter in the living room, completely crushed and left to mull your words over alone while he waits for May to get home.

 Five days later, and you can’t take the silence anymore. Peter practically hides and runs for shelter each time he hears you approach, you saw the footage on FRIDAY’s cams. It really upset you for the first two days, but with each shy, rushed smile and fleeting glance he takes at you, each one that makes your stomach do little flips, they just remind you how cruel you were to him, how brutally honest, when Peter needs more time to heal than you do most likely, as your dad meant more to Pete than he did to you, and if anything then that's a reflection on Tony. He wanted a son. Maybe Peter feels guilty, mabe he’s sad, maybe he just straight up doesn’t like you, but whatever it is, you don’t fucking like it, so you’re preparing for the move in two days time. Far earlier than planned. 

With each piece of clothing you fold, with each piece of metal shrapnel you toss into your jewellery box, with each eyeliner you tuck away in a bag, you run everything that's happened in the past week through your head. You called Scott up to see how he’s getting on with Hope and Cassie, you spoke to Laura - no longer a secret - who just told you that Barton is in almost as bad a place as before, just without the machetes and with a lot more crying and whiskey, you spoke to Rhodey for an update on the lake house/new home situation and put all of the plans in place, but you did shut down his heartfelt offer to be another father figure, starting with a controversial suggestion to send you to therapy or rehab for your ‘lashing outs’, and you’d made amends with Sam who was surprisingly okay with your whole new thing going on, and he said he loved your vibe and gave hair dye suggestions, making you rethink your decision to leave all over again. Bucky had taken you shopping, hoping for retail to cure both of your depressive episodes, but it didn't really help even if the long, deep conversation over milkshakes at a nearby diner did help, and he cradled your head in his lap as you told him you’d miss him more than the others. He told you that you were being stupid about Peter and that the kid really likes you, but you retorted with a scoff, saying he’d never fancy you the way you fancy him.

Ah, yeah, that revelation, the one which makes you throw a sweater full force into your open trunk, sitting at the base of your bed. With a loud groan, you throw yourself dramatically down onto the bed and savour the soft comforter for one of the last times; after all, the place will probably be gone, along with the remnants of FRIDAY by the time you return, if you ever go. 

“Where are you off to?” Peter asks from the doorway, his voice inquisitive and startling you from your angered daze. 

He must’ve seen your bags half packed in your room, lying out on your bed beside you. You turn your head to look at him, your eyes thin and bullet-like.

“I’m leaving.” You snap rather viciously, and prop yourself up on your elbows. “The Cap’n has gone, and I’ve been out of school too long to go back. The Step-Monster needs to ‘tutor me’, and I need to teach the little brat.” You’re referring to Morgan, but Peter doesn’t seem to pick that up by the looks of his furrowed brows. He certainly looks relaxed though, leaning against your doorframe. 

“Why can’t you stay here?” Peter asks and You shrug, unsure how to respond. “I- I’m sure Mr Falcon would help teach you, or- or Wanda?”

Shit, Wanda. You’d practically forgotten she existed from how much of a recluse she was now. You should probably go and check on her or at the very least have a chat with her. She was dead for five years, just like Vis, but when she comes back she’s still not over him after months? Sounds fake but ok...

“Wanda has even less of an education than I do.” You retaliate with a foul attitude and an even fouler taste in your mouth, turning your back on him when you stand, and going back to your packing. You try your best to ignore his presence, but you can just feel him hovering metres away, itching to do or say something to you.

“Well then you can stay living here and enrol in Midtown High with me. We’d be the same year now and I could show you the ropes.”

Ok now you know he’s fucking with you.

“Peter, I can’t go to midtown.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve been out of co-ed for too long, let alone education, as I haven’t had any since like fucking February, and I’m too traumatised and crippled for them. How would that look eh? Y/N Stark enrolling for junior year after the death of The Tony Stark?” Peter goes quiet. “And anyway, it’s not like I have the brains, at all. I’m not smart like you, Peter. I’m as thick as two short planks. I got my mom’s brains and some of my dad's abilities. I can chuck on suits all I like, I can build shit all day, and I can play sports like no one's business; or at least I could.” Having your one ankle completely useless is a complete bummer, maybe even more so than losing everyone, because now you actually have to live with being this way. They don’t have to live. “But the second you give me a math equation, I’m gone.”

“Couldn’t you live with your mom then? Mr Stark said she doesn’t live too far out of state, nowhere near as far as the lake house.”

“My dads fucking dead Peter, he doesn’t control shit anymore” You find yourself shouting, your eyes burning into his with a fire of fury behind them. “My mom came back after the snap but she hasn’t answered any of my calls, and she fled the house when I turned up on her goddamn doorstep. She ain’t no option anymore, my authority is Potts.”

He gives you a sad smile but slinks away. No surprise there, last time he saw you, you were twelve years old and tugging on his trouser leg to get him to play basketball with you. You didn’t have anywhere near this level of anger, and you’d never have dared scream at him, let alone repeating the words that hit him like daggers mere days ago. 

 The next day comes too soon, and you’re just chilling , finishing up the last of your packing, and trying to ignore anything pushing you to stay. Why did your chat with Peter compel you to want to stay here instead? What is it about him that always brings you full circle, and makes you feel like that love struck child again?

From your mirror, as you’re adjusting your blouse and switching out your nose stud, you see Peter approaching, steadily advancing down the corridor. Twice he stops, and takes a step back, as well as turning and looking the other way as though doubting his decision to come into your room, but when you see his knuckles come in contact with the wood of your door, as he knocks gently, and the sound floats into your ears, making you turn around to see his meek smile with his head hung low.

“You can come in Pete,” you exhale, “I won’t bite your head off.”

He chuckles lowly and advances towards the bed. He gestures, and you nod, giving him permission and hobbling over to join him moments later. He seems flustered, you can tell me by the way he’s struggling to maintain eye contact and the manner in which his hands are convulsing in his lap. Seeing him like this makes you uncomfortable, and you can even feel bile rising in your throat. 

“Peter, I-”

“No, Y/N, please let me, I mean, I wanna talk.”

You smile and bow out, allowing him space to align his thoughts with his words, after all, you’ve known that it takes him a while to do that, but it’s necessary in any kind of emotional situation with someone as awkward as Petter; just the thought causes butterflies to flutter around in your stomach and windpipe.

“I’m sorry for yesterday, for nagging you and insisting, and for asking you those questions and trying to make you stay. I just, I really just don’t want you to leave. I was insensitive, and I should’ve recognised you beforehand.” You can feel tears pooling behind your eyes, and it takes all of your willpower to not let them fall. “I just want you to do as well as you can, and I wish you all the best, I just wish I could’ve gotten to know you better  before it was too late; ok Stark?”

His lips quirk into a smile, yet his voice breaks as he calls you Stark. It physically hurts to hear him say that, and you want to tell him that it’s okay, and he has every right to be upset and grieving, and you know you shouldn’t have shouted at him and gotten so defensive because after all he’s one of the only people you can let your guard down around. You just want to say that it’s not his fault, except you can’t find the words.

“Why can’t you stay?” He asks sincerely, even a touch of desperation there.

Your heart drops to your feet at his expression, and your next words come out as a hushed, pained whisper, your words slow and detached. “I have no reason to stay.”

He nods dejectedly, almost like he’s giving up on something, and he even moves to stand up while your eyes are glued to the way his muscles ripple with each movement, but halfway to being upright, he changes his mind and turns towards you.

The next thing you know, you feel the soft pressure of his thumb on your chin, followed by the pads of his fingers on the soft skin underneath, tilting your head up to look him in his gorgeous eyes, like molten honey in the soft sunlight of your bedroom. Just the sight of his lips slightly parted causes your mouth to go dry, but you don’t have too long to think about that, because all of your thoughts dissipate with the featherlight pressure and sweet, intoxicating taste of his lips on yours. His nose nudges your cheek ever so gently. It’s barely there, and over far too soon, it still makes your head spin. Christ, you’ve been waiting for that to happen for upwards of five years, and it was just as beautiful as you hoped it would be.

“How about now?” He inquires, a stark contrast of shyness and courage written all over his face.

“Why don’t you kiss me again and we’ll find out?”

You fist the fabric of his t-shirt and pull him towards you, leaving Peter shocked by the strength in just one hand, seeing as he finds his body hovering above yours just seconds later. He looks hungry, already ravishing you with his eyes as you kiss and kitten lick just below his ear. He holds his weight up but leaves no time to press his lips against yours, urgently, passionately. You moan a little at how desperate he is to get his hands on you, the way he knots one hand in your hair, splayed out on the pillow beside you, the way he’s senselessly grinding his crotch onto you. You don’t mind at all, especially not the breathy calls of your name he lets out when you knot your legs around his lower back to pull him closer. It's a primal desire that keeps you moving. His tongue glides across your lower lip, prying its way in, and you just let it happen, too caught up in the moment to do anything else.

“Pete, fuck…”

Your one hand slides under his shirt and runs across the ripples of his abs, you savour the way he tenses beneath your touch, the way the scars feel tenders beneath your hungry touch. You other hand threads into his soft brown locks. You pull gently and elicit the most perfect guttural groan from him.

“Y/N,” he almost pleads, and his lips move to gently suck on your jawline. 

You’re surprised that he isn't calling you Sloane, but you certainly aren't complaining. Your name from his tongue does things to you that you can’t even explain.

You dance your fingers from his hair across to his face, and push his cheek gently. Your eyes are thin, focussed on him, but Peter’s pupils are heavily blown with lust, leaving only a faint rim of golden brown around the edge. 

“You’re so perfect,” he rasps out, and your stomach coils in desire. Your face must look so pouty, so wanton, but you can’t find it within yourself to care.

“Fuck me, Peter.”

He looks like a deer in headlights momentarily, but gets over it quickly, attaching his lips back on yours and allowing his tongue to roam your mouth, savuring and swallowing every whimper and moan that escapes your pretty lips.You let your hand, the one still beneath his shirt, skim over his muscles to where his heart is, beating at a double pace, thrumming gently beneath your hand. It makes your ego inflate tenfold, knowing that you’ve gotten this flustered and needy.

Just as you’re really getting lost in the pleasure, Peter’s hand cupping and massaging your breast as his mouth works wonders on intoxicating you, you hear a rather loud cough from your doorway, and everything stops. You and Peter both freeze at the same moment, and you drop any stance, fully detaching yourselves to glance at who’s there.

“You kids should be careful, and next time, close the door.”

And with that, Bucky’s gone from view as quickly as he appeared, leaving you both with a mere glimpse at him in his sweats with a coffee cup in his hands, no doubt filled with earl grey tea being the old lady he is. 

In the heat of the moment, you’d both forgotten to close the door and turn FRIDAY off. And Rhodey can access all of the footage. Fuck. Oh well, you’ve already been caught once, why stop now?

You wrap an arm around Peter's shoulders and pull yourself up until you’re straddling his lap and upper thighs, eagerly rubbing yourself against the material of his jeans to try and get some kind of friction. He slides an arm around your waist, and you move in to kiss him, only for him to turn his head the other way. 

The moment couldn’t have been lost from Bucky’s playfully snarky comment, could it? You want nothing more than for him to kiss you again, earnestly, fervently, but he doesn’t even spare you a glance, not even when he pushes you from his lip and stands up with his head in his hands.

Apparently he doesn’t feel the same.

“Crap, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. Why did I do that? Y/N…”

He even begins to pace, that’s when you know that he thinks he’s fucked up.

“You know why I shouldn’t have done that right, don’t you?” he asks, stuttering random syllables in no specific order, but you do notice that with each pace, he paces his way closer to your open door.

“Yeah,” you lie, but you’ll work that out tonight, “I get it. But it’s fine. And I need to pack…”

He smiles nervously, and with a few careless gestures and no words, he stalks into the corridor and closes your door behind him. You can hear him lettering a long-held breath out. 

All of a sudden, you feel completely sick to your stomach. Why would he do that? It was so God damn cryptic. One second he’s apologising, asking you to stay, pashing you senseless, and the next he’s keeping as much distance from you as possible, apologising, and treating you like a child.

That’s when it hits you.

He feels like he’s kissing the old you. You grew up without him there, and in the space of what was merely a nap to him, you grew five years older, grew tits, matured, changed every aspect about yourself, and developed a sex drive; whereas he didn’t change one bit, he’s still the same peter that he was when you were an aggravating child, crushing on him from afar and trying to be like him. He feels predatory at kissing you, because all he’s ever known you as is a child, and this is all new territory, a territory he’s too scared to broach because he can’t get permission from the man himself.

Maybe that’s why your dad had to die, so that you’d never end up with Peter, and that’s Earth punishing you for some godforsaken reason.

So you just lie there, far salty tears involuntarily dripping down your cheeks as you sit there and think. Will you ever just be fucking happy?

 Happy’s set to pick you up at noon today, and after a night of scarcely five hours of sleep, you are not in the mood for anyone and their funny business, especially not Peter, and you aren’t exactly peppy for the hour long drive to arrive there with the Bimbo and the Brat. Well, at least everyone has low expectations of you, so it shouldn’t be that much of an issue when you simply scowl at them and flip them off until you chuck yourself into the car and wave them goodbye for the last time. You’re not sure if the gravity of the situation has hit you yet, maybe you’re repressing it, or maybe it simply just does not bother you, the same way that most things don’t.

You don’t even bother with your appearance, and stick to black trackies and a cropped tank top, with a mildly colourful button-down open over the top. Seeing as your docs are packed in the ‘hide from Pepper’ box, you toss on your worn down black converse and begrudgingly throw your hair up in what you hoped would be a messy bun but ends up looking more like a lopsided half-up ponytail, so you snap the hair tie and throw it away. Hey, that’s an easy way to deal with the Peter issue. Snap him in half and chuck him in the trash where he rightfully belongs after yesterday. 

All you have for breakfast is an iced coffee, and justly so, no one dares even make eye contact with you. By ten, all of your bags are out in the hallway, and not a single personal affect is left in your room. You say a quick goodbye to FRIDAY, and hobble out into the living room, where you spend the next almost two hours either staring blankly ahead of you and ignoring what’s on the screen, or picking at your crutches while you analyse the previous day with Peter. No matter how much you want to hate him, you can't refute the way he made you feel, completely under his control, so willing and malleable, so eager and hungry and loved.

 Happy pulls up at 11.55, and you begin to help him load everything into the car, but get refused after two bags and therefore two trips downstairs after you nearly fall face first and your crutches slip from your arms. The rest is down within seconds by Sam and Bucky.

You said goodbye to Wanda a couple of days ago when you popped in for a chat, but she’d still made her way out here, so you give her a quick hug and wish her well, and you see that May has made her way out to see you off, but Peter is nowhere to be found which makes your cheeks burn with anger.

“I’m so sorry for now knowing who you were my love,” she tells you, running a hand through your hair, “Peter told me all about you before it all happened, he said you were such a cutie, and I know that he would’ve made more of an effort had he recognised you.”

You chuckle softly, hug her, and simply don’t reply. What are you supposed to say to something like that? Bucky and Sam appear back at the top of the stairs and advance towards you, knocking each other out of the way in a playful battle to hug you first. Sam wins by tickling Bucky just beneath his ribs, and bear hugs you, making you feel like a baby koala. 

“Use protection next time, and please, God, shut the door.” He whispers in your ear, making you jump away, your jaw slack, utterly aghast, but he just laughs at your expense.

“You told him about that?” you accuse Bucky, shoving a finger at his chest.

He raises his hands in surrender and even lets out a chuckle before cuddling you, his metal arm somehow a comforting presence around you. 

“Of course I did, Doll. It was too good not to tell.”

You swat him gently on his chest, but instead of pulling away just yet, you bury your face in his t-shirt for possibly the last time. 

“You two kids get along, or I might have to come here and whip your asses.” you glance between Bucky and Sam, making them laugh, but they nod nonetheless and step backwards to join May, allowing you to leave. You grasp your crutches and let your arms fall through the rests, your hands slipping around the handles like second nature, and you start to make your way out. Something that resembles hope begins to blossom in your stomach, so you muster all of your courage and take a fleeting glimpse over your shoulder, but much to your disappointment yet not very much surprise, he isn’t there. You feel something within your chest physically break, and with the pain all over your body, emotional above all else, stemming from betrayal, you wouldn’t be surprised if it isn’t your heart strings. Oh well, you tell yourself, and in recovery from bowing your head down in embarrassment, you hold your shoulders high with any remaining pride as you take the few steps to the door, ignoring the tears that begin to fall. Your tears are possibly the most confusing thing about this ordeal, you never cried before, not from emotion at least. 

“Stop- Y/N, wait, please Sloane…” you hear breathless shouts, followed by hurried footsteps on the linoleum. Instantly, you recognise his voice. “Please stop, I’m begging you.”

You halt your steps, and prop your crutches against the wall, but are slow to turn around, and even when you do, it takes you a moment to actually meet his gaze. His eyes hold all of the hurt he’s feeling. He hardly slept, you can tell by the red rims and deep, sallow bags. The warm chocolate colour is slightly murky, something of an anger in them, maybe even a sense of loss.

You can’t track anything more, because you take one step forwards, and he begins to virtually sprint towards you, his hair bouncing as he dashes across the floor and entwines his arms around you like vines, relentlessly squeezing you and ceasing to let go. He simply just stands there, glued to the spot, holding onto you, and once more you feel the tears well in your eyes. You’ve never been hugged this way, not by anyone, so you make the most of it and gently grasp his t-shirt to draw him impossibly closer, his scent enveloping you in a blanket of warmth and adoration. He moves one hand up to knot in your matted hair, and buries your head closer into his shoulder, which you welcome, even if you’re wetting the shoulder of his shirt with your tears. You lose count of the time until you let go, just savouring the way he holds you so lovingly, and you don’t particularly ever want to let go. All of the rest of the world has disappeared. But still, you both detach yourselves just a little, and you find your lips mere inches away from his perfect lips. Without another thought, something otherworldly takes over, and you find your lips planted together in the most intimate way possible. The tip of his tongue barely has to swipe your lower lip before you grant him access, and as you do, your mind and soul proclaim thanks to the gods. He tastes like heaven and cherry pie - his favourite - and he feels even better. The way his tongue dances with yours is like a massage, second nature, and God, you never want it to stop with how crazy he’s making your mind go, let alone the flock of butterflies fluttering around your stomach. His one hand shifts to the small or your back, and you find yourself wrapping your arms even tighter around Peter until your hands touch, and you have him held in place, in the most perfect position, the one where you know he belongs.

You separate, gasping for air and gulping as much down as you can in such a short amount of time before his hands are in your hair again and he’s kissing you just as sweetly, yet hotly, as before. The sensual way he gazes at you makes your insides turn to mush in seconds, and you have to look away even before he kisses you again because you fear you shan’t be able to keep his gaze if you ever want to leave this place with your heart intact. This kiss isn’t as long, you realise that as your hands drop to his waist and stay there lightly, feeling the skin above his hips rippling beneath his tensing muscles. His body shifts, as does his grip on you, and he starts to pepper kisses on your lips and cheeks, just small, precious pecks that keep your heart beating with joy and longing. Just the feeling of his lips kissing away your tears as he hovers above you makes you feel alive at long last, and he makes you feel more cherished than you ever imagined you could.

“You need to go, Happy’ll start honking for you any second.” he breathes, the softness of his breath running your eyelashes and allowing your eyes to flutter clothes, his freckles disappearing from your view for a second. Then, as if on cue, Happy's horn resounds. “I’ll walk you down.”

He looks so crestfallen as he pulls away from your and passes you your crutches, keeping a safe distance. And although you both know that everyone saw, it doesn’t matter, and no one says a word, they all just observe quietly, but you can tell that they’re smiling down on you both. You can still taste your salty tears mingled together pressing on your lips, the taste of just indescribably, distinctly Peter stuck in your mouth, a taste you never want to stop tasting. 

When Peter crushes, you oblige and scramble onto his back as he carries your crutches, and the walk down the stairwell to where Happy’s parked on the sidewalk is a silent one, but it’s still comfortable. There are so many things the two of you want to say to each other, but it’s too hard to express them given that you’re about to be shipped off somewhere that he’ll probably never make your acquaintance again, no matter how much he wants to spend all of his time with you. You’re more conflicted than you’ve ever felt, so stressed, so hurt, but at the same time you’re so happy that you got to make those memories with Peter before you leave, elated that you made up with him, pleased that you got to feel him kiss you one last time. 

When you reach the concrete, Peter gently places you down on your feet, and he puts your crutches into the open door at the back of the car and proceeds to stand nervously beside you, his hands behind his back as he rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet. You have your head down, anxious beyond comparison, just staring at the gravel, until one of Peter's hands comes out from where it was and takes your trembling hand into his palm, his fingers slowly tangling around yours and giving you a gentle squeeze. He switches his gaze over to you and catches your eye. He smiles briefly before bringing your knuckles up to his lips. 

“I’ve fancied you since I was eleven,” you tell him, “That’s almost six years, that’s a long ass time.” a brief hint of humour creeps into your pained, quiet voice.

He just chuckles and rubs his thumb over your knuckles, making you smile, despite the pain of the situation. He speaks to you real soft. “I know.”

Your hand feels like it was meant to fit in his and sends a new sort of warmth shooting through your body, but it doesn’t last long before he’s helping you into the backseat of the car and reluctantly removing his nimble fingers from their grip around yours, and placing a gentle, chaste kiss to your forehead for good measure, a kiss you’ll always treasure.

“Don’t,” you plead, feeling a sob suddenly choke your throat when all that’s left are his fingertips grazing yours. “Don’t let go, Peter, please.”

It’s difficult to remain stoic around Peter now, it’s like everything just completely pivoted the day he kissed you, and if you’re honest, you don’t want to go back. You don’t want to be the hateful girl you once were, just longing for him to come back. Now he is back, you don’t have to wait anymore, and he can help you be your old self again. If only he’d just hold your hand forever, and you could actually be together.

And then it hits you. You need Peter almost as much as you need air to breathe, and if he lets go, you’ll be lost, and it’ll feel like it did for five whole years, you’ll be lonely and isolated, and even in the few days that you’ve had him back in your life, that feeling has completely dissipated and been replaced with an albeit confused elation and a warmth of love. 

“I have to,” he whispers back his eyes already red, “I have to let you go. It’s what Mr Stark would want.”

He pulls away and closes the door in one swift movement, turning his back on you. You see his mop of brunette curls slip down from view when you peer out the window, hot tears burning your cheeks. You know he’s sitting on the side, his head in his hands, but you can’t look that far, so instead you listen to the soft purr of the car as it comes to live, and you let your laboured breath steam up the glass that your hands are placed on. As you begin to pull away, your final glimpse at your old home escaping you, you see Peter waving frantically and beginning to job alongside you, only stopping once you exit the driveway. Thanks to the tinted windows, you know he can’t see you, but you see him anyway and wave back before your pain overwhelms you. That happens the second he’s gone from your peripheral vision, and your chest caves in loud, wrenching sobs that’ll leave you in pain for days. 

Is this what it feels like to have your heartbroken? 

Of course it is, you know this, but all of the times you’ve felt it before, it still hasn’t felt this bad. You know that it’s happening for a reason, that God is punishing you this way for a reason, but no matter how hard you try, it just seems endlessly painful, and all for nothing. What could possibly be the reason for this?

You’re so locked in your thoughts that you barely realise that Happy has slowed the car down, and is looking over his shoulder at you, trying to bring you back down by asking how you are and how you feel. Did he not just see that display?

“If I was allowed to stay,” you slightly pant, your teeth gripping and your first clenching of their own accord, “then it could’ve been me and Peter. Just the two of us, the way it was supposed to be as I was growing up. But everything happens for a fucking reason, right?”

Happy just swallows and mumbles something incoherent before sliding the glass back over and starting up at another steady speed. You don’t know why you’re so... angry all of a sudden; you shouldn’t be angry, you should be upset and almost grieving, crying for the loss of an old home but excited for a new one. But yet, what’s the point in all of that? You’ve felt those emotions plenty of times in your short life, and you always thought you felt them for a reason, but where the ever loving fuck is that reasoning right now when you actually need it? 

Grieving has lost its effect on you by now, and your mind feels hostile from all of the thoughts whirring around. You’ve had the same thoughts every time someone died - every time you thought your dad died, when your mom died, when Peter died, when everyone else just turned to dust. Then you felt them all over again when your dad died, for real this time, but what was the point? Nothing good ever came of it… nothing except grieving for Peter. You felt the same way you do now, only now it's somehow worse, yet he isn’t dead. You grieved for him more than you did your own mother, because he cared, because he actually paid attention, because he told you that you were pretty for the first time in your life. He always treated you like a person, like an equal, even when you were just a clingy child, vying for someone's attention when neglected by both of your parents because they had better things to do. But even now, now he recognises you again, he’s treated you like an equal, maybe even put you on a pedestal after you were extremely terse and treated him horribly. He still kissed you and cared for you and loved you-

SHIT.

You love Peter. Surely that must’ve been obvious for a long time, but now you’re finally admitting it. You really, genuinely, wholeheartedly love the little shit. Your stomach churns with nerves, and your mind tells you that you’re insane, but your heart… your heart has known all along, despite how much you fought it, and it’s now telling you to go along with it. You’re so… overcome with emotions that you don’t even know where to start or how to react or even try to begin to suss them out to deal with them so you do what feels like second nature the past few days, and you begin to cry, unable to choke it down any longer.

“Turn back happy,” you plead, “Shit! I said turn back now Goddammit!”

“I can’t, Sloane, you know I can’t, bosses orders.”

His words just hurt you more, if that was even possible, and pile something new onto the burning pile of emotions battling for territory within your exhausted brain. 

“Happy, turn back right the fuck now, or I will scream until the glass breaks.”

When he does nothing, your sobs become harsher, and something in your throat snaps, forcing you to become hysterical. It’s something primal that takes over your body, a demon's force, because God knows you wouldn’t usually have this in you. You scream. It’s just a shrill sound to begin with, until your heaving chest and tears break through, and make it into a full hysterics game.

“HAPPY! TAKE ME HOME, TAKE ME TO PETER!” you screech, and you repeat the same words until you can’t breathe any longer, but even when your lungs fail you, your hands don’t. 

You clip your seatbelt undone and begin punching the glass. It starts off just to be the dark tinted window separating you from happy and the wheel that would allow you to drive home, but even though the glass begins to wobble, it isn’t enough, so you move to the windows, your knuckles and palms coming in contact with the night shaded glass again and again until they’re rattling and even beginning to crack, but the second you feel you can, you release the most bestial, guttural scream that you can muster, and punctuate it with a rough shove to Happy’s chair.

You want to stop, but with all of the loss you’ve been through, you just need this one thing, this one person, this one place to feel complete, and none of it’s happening. It’s unspeakable, indescribable the way you feel, the turf war that’s occurring all over your body driving you insane. 

“Just take me to Peter,” you finally beg after what seems like an eternity, collapsing completely into your seat, “I need him, Happy. I need Peter, please… please.”

You’re drained, dehydrated, hurt, and it doesn’t seem like that’s going to change any time soon. You’re driving away from the only happiness you’ve ever known to live in the arse end of nowhere with two people you hate, and so a void just takes over everything that previously embodied you, and you succumb to the emptiness, your last thought being of all the tears you’ve cried over one boy, the only one you’ve ever loved, and now you can’t even tell him that. 

It was hard to grieve for someone, only for them to come back, the same way it was hard to grieve for someone who never gave a toss about you. That's what you’re finding so hard about all of this. But now, none of that matters, because he’s gone.

Two months later

The doorbell to the house rings for the third time today, driving you utterly up the wall. First it was the postie with some kind of oversized parcel for Morgan, then it was Happy, here again to help outside and be a ‘watchful eye’ while Pepper is out grocery shopping, apparently since they still don’t trust you rough to take decent care of your own sister.

“MORGAN!” You yell from your place at the back of the house, knowing that from her spot on the sofa in front of paw patrol or whatever shit she’s watching, she’ll hear, “Get the fucking door!”

“Mummy told you not to say bad words, Y/N.” She shouts back, and you can practically hear the signature Stark smirk in her words, although it should be far too early for her to actually be making that face.

That’s one thing they got right with Morgan, though, at least she calls you by your actual name instead of fucking Sloane, even if Pepper does ‘accidentally’ slip up and call you by that awful legacy name from time to time when you really annoy her, say by breaking a vase or some china, or screaming at her using all of the profanities you can think of. She’s really regretting taking you in, now, because you’re simply that much of a handful that she had Happy and Rhodey actually build a quiet room for some respite. You’re still in the rebellious phase, and you don’t seem to be leaving it any time soon, although you have let the dye in your hair grow out and you haven't bleached it… yet, and some of your piercings have naturally closed over, although that was more so that Morgan wouldn’t continually take a metal detector to your face. 

Abrupt, your thoughts escape you, and you can’t catch the thread, because after multiple attempts of Morgan’s to click open the reinforced vibranium locks on the doors (Rhodey’s suggestion), and the shifting of a stool to allow her to climb to it, you hear a shriek and some mess of words that sound like ‘Peter’. But no, that's simply impossible. You’re imagining things in your annoyed state, knowing it would’ve been a lot faster and quieter if you just made your way over there yourself. 

“It’s for you!”

Now this peaks your attention. No one has been to see you in the whole time you’ve been here, nor have you ever gotten mail. No one comes to see you, so maybe your ears didn’t deceive you.

You leap up from your seat and begin charging to the door, running as quickly and carefully as you can over Morgan's toys, but you’re also careful to not aggravate your injury. One good thing that came from your time there - the only good thing - is that you were able to work with your dad's remaining technology and do intensive physio, resulting in your mobility improving tenfold, also meaning that now you can not only walk but kind of run without assistance. But that doesn’t matter as soon as you see the man standing in the doorway, a bunch of flowers in his hand, and an expression of pure delight on his puppy-like features. 

“Y-you can walk?” he blubs, his cheeks red with joy.

The flowers fall from his hands onto the deck, and your eyes fill with tears as your hands fly up to your mouth, only just containing your sobs. Your whole being is overcome with happiness like you’ve never felt before, and it seems like all of your depression since you left him has melted away, and a new you is born.

“You came back for me…” you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear, and in response, he draws his lips into a tight line to contain his smile, and nods his head at you, soft brown curls falling into his soft eyes.

“Why are you sad, Y/N?” Morgan asks, and tugs at your shirt, but you don’t even realise, because the sight of Peter coming towards you is all that you can see and feel, and you begin advancing towards him too, until you collide in a heated kiss. Everything just seems like a tangle of limbs, a clash of teeth, and a battle of tongues. You’re too wrapped up in the feel of him, the passion of the moment, the intimacy of the kiss, that you don’t notice that Peter’s already got you picked up with your whole body tied around him. He tastes utterly delectable, the same as before, and his tongue feels incredible as it sweeps your mouth.

“Morgan-” you pant, “Go find Uncle Happy in the yard, now.” When she doesn’t move, you open your eyes to glare at her, stunned and traumatised into silence with her mouth slightly agape. You can’t bear detaching from Peter’s lips for even a second, so your words are all rushed. “Morgan get out now, I can see him there, in the yard, go!”

The little squirt smiles wryly up at you, but does as she’s told, and scurries off into the mass of flowers and perfectly cut grass. Seeing her gone, you let out a long held breath and smile into Peter’s passionate kiss. All of the love floods back to you, and you feel whole once again. But before you can get too caught up in the sappiness, Peter is already blindly stumbling through the house and kicking the front door closed behind him. Your fingers in his hair, you guide him to the couch.

As he kisses you so tenderly, even in the heated moment, you finally understand what everything was for. Every trial and tribulation in your life was teaching you, helping build you up for this very moment, where it all makes sense.

Everything in life has been for a reason, and that reason is this very moment. The thought makes you smile, but nowhere near as much as Peter’s own smile does.

[fandomficsnstuff]

Guardian Angel - Part 9

Daryl Dixon x Reader

(Warnings: Judith gets a little sick, but nothing serious! Also a heavy topic between the reader and Daryl)

Looking back, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to sneak up on a guy who’s guard was pretty much constantly up, but you didn’t think of that, you just thought that a surprise hug would be a good thing, you ending up on the ground convinced you that maybe, just maybe, you should’ve announced yourself first.

“Jesus girl! The hell you tryna do, sneaking up on me like that?” you couldn’t help but giggle as he pulled you up, grinning at him “well I thought ‘hey look my boyfriend, I wanna hug him’” you shrugged casually, but seeing his tense look you quickly realized what you said “I-I mean, I uh… I’m sorry I-I thought… it’s okay if you’re, you know, not ready o-or just don’t want to-”

“Nah, it’s cool, ‘girlfriend’ ” he gave you one of those little smirks that just made you want to punch him and kiss him at the same time, but you went with rolling your eyes, a smile on your lips as he put a hand on the small of your back, pulling you closer to him, still smirking, your eyes locked. Sometimes the two of you could do this, just look at each other, he didn’t feel uncomfortable with you looking at him, and he allowed you to exploit that as much as you wanted, in turn he was allowed to stare at you all he wanted, it was a silent agreement between the two of you, one that Daryl secretly adored. You hummed low and leaned up to peck his cheek, and he let you, as he always did, “so whatcha doin’ down here anyway?” he mumbled as he held you close, a smile on your lips as you shrugged “can’t I just check up on my boyfriend?” he gave you an amused scoff and you sighed “okay, okay, listen, Glenn and Maggie are going out to get some supplies for Judith, and I said I’d tag along, just wanted to let you know, we’re leaving now” he let out a small grumble, you knew he wasn’t a fan of whenever you went on a run, just as you weren’t a fan when he did it, “I’ll be back before you know it, I promise” he gave you a small ‘mhm’ in acknowledgement, and you smiled, leaving up and pecking his cheek, you were about to turn away when you head your name being called, you turned to see Beth with Judtih in her arms “(Y/N), I kinda need your help, do you have time?” you gave her smile and nodded “yeah, just gotta tell Maggie and Glenn” she nodded and went back inside, your eyes turning back to Daryl “well, looks like you’re stuck with me anyway” Daryl gave a quiet scoff “lucky me” you giggled as he leaned down and kissed you, and you couldn’t help but moan into the kiss, it always felt so incredible when your lips met, it was slow and passionate, no matter the time, and it always served you to want more. Once you finally parted you smirked up at him “don’t go far” you mumbled, quickly leaning up and pecking his lips again before running over to Maggie and Glenn who were waiting by their car.

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

You smiled at Beth as you walked up to her “hey, so what’s up?” Beth showed you Judith, who looked very, very tired “I don’t know, she’s sleeping one minute, screamin’ and crying, and when I pick her up she’s like this, I tried feeding her but she won’t take it, I tried to put her to sleep, cause she looks so tired but then she just starts cryin’ again” you frowned and took her from Beth carefully, examining her face and how groggy she looked. You looked to Beth who were frowning concerned “get a blanket, gonna lay her down” Beth nodded and did as told, coming back with a fluffy blanket from her make-shift crib, laying it out on the ground while you kneeled with Judith, gently laying her on the blanket, watching her face contort as she cried “oh I know sweetie, I know” you whispered as you watched how she was laying, it was like she was trying to take pressure off of her right side. You sighed and held her up so she was sitting, she slowly stopped crying but was clearly still uncomfortable, Beth looked even more scared now “get Hershel, just to make sure” Beth nodded and went to get her dad as you pulled Judith up in your arms again, gently rocking her “it’s okay sweetie, we’re gonna figure this one out, like we always do, okay?” you knew she couldn’t answer or even understand you, but you still talked to her, in some weird way, it was like talking to Lori, you knew Lori was dead and buried, but it still felt nice to talk to Judith like she was her, you knew she wasn’t, and you knew Judith couldn’t understand you, it was the reason why you told her half of what you did.

You smiled as Hershel approached “what do we have here?” you shrugged as you continued to rock Judith “when she’s laying down she’s leaning to the left, like something is up with her right side, it’s better when she’s sitting up, but best if she’s held, Beth says she won’t eat” Hershel frowned and sat down on a nearby chair, putting his crutches to the side and reaching for Judith, who you happily gave him “let’s have a look at you, alright sweetheart? Beth when did you last feed her?” you smiled at Beth to reassure her, and she managed to give you a tiny smile back “uhm, about half an hour ago”.

You watched Hershel examine her before nodding “well the eating is because she’s just not hungry. I think it’s a tummy ache of some sorts, she’ll probably get it out in the next day or so, but it won’t be nice changin’ her diaper” you chuckled low, looking to Beth “was it that before?” Beth giggled, watching you get up and sit down nearby, Hershel reaching her to you “for the next day or so she’s gonna have to be held when she’s sleepin’, otherwise she won’t get much sleep, but it’s probably just for a day or two, don’t think it’s anything serious” you nodded and smiled at Beth “go get some sleep or something, I got her” Beth nodded and packed up the blanket on the ground, giving you the cloth you used for Judith before going off. You smiled at Hershel as you gently held a sleepy Judith “you’re good with her” Hershel pointed at Judith and you shrugged, smiling down at Judith who was slowly falling asleep “I guess, she’s easy to handle I think” Hershel chuckled at that, smiling softly at the sight of you with Judith “what do Daryl think?” you chuckled low “Daryl loves her, he’s just too tough to admit it” Hershel kept his kind eyes on you “I meant with you, you two ever thinking ‘bout that?” you looked at Hershel, thinking it over before gently shrugging “I-I don’t know, we’ve only been together for a few months, we just made it official today, I don’t know what he’d think...”

Hershel hummed, leaning back in the chair “well, what do you think?” you shrugged “I think he’d made a wonderful dad, I think he’s just scared. He hasn’t told me, and that’s okay, but I don’t think he had the best upbringing… I’m not sure, it doesn’t matter to me too much, he’s still Daryl, but I think it matters a lot more to him when it comes to things like this” you gestured, as much as possible, to Judith in your arms “I think he’s scared he’s going to fail, I just don’t think he realizes that he won’t. He’s a good man, Hershel, despite his own opinion” Hershel nodded, giving a smile to the sleeping Judith “I know, that was clear from the way he searched for that little girl, Sophia” you hummed low “yeah. I think he’d make a wonderful dad, but it’s up to him, honestly.”

You were unaware of a certain archer who had heard everything, when you hadn’t been right back, he went to see if everything was okay with Judith, he came just in time to hear Hershel ask you what he thought about children, he was about to smile at your answer before Hershel continued. He debated if he should reveal himself or go back outside, but eventually decided to act like nothing, walking into the room and smiling seeing Judith “so what kinda trouble is little Asskicker gettin’ herself into now?” you laughed low, smiling at how Daryl gently stroked Judith’s head while she were sleeping “a tummy ache, she won’t be able to get much sleep laying down the next few days, Beth and I are gonna take turns holding her so she can sleep, you’re welcome to pitch in if you want?”

Hershel took his crutches and got up, giving you a warm smile and a pat on the shoulder for Daryl, before then taking off, leaving you and Daryl alone. You watched Daryl sit in the chair Hershel had previously sat in, his gaze on the floor as he chewed his thumbnail. “Alright, what’s bothering you?” Daryl looked at you confused, which just made you smile “you bite your thumbnail when you think, amongst other things” Daryl sighed and leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees, this made you frown “Daryl, what is it?” he kept his gaze at the floor before finally looking at you “I heard what you ‘n Hershel talked about” you sighed heavily, looking at a sleeping Judith before looking back at Daryl “well… I meant what I said, about you being a dad, I think you’d be great, but it’s up to you, honestly” he scoffed at this, not the amused one either, the annoyed one “how can you think that, that I’d make a good dad, huh?? You met me? I ain’t exactly a good man, I’m broken as hell, I ain’t gonna be no good dad, fuck that, I’d make everything fuckin’ worse!” you frowned at his words “I’d prefer it if you didn’t insult the man I love more than anything” you kept your voice calm, partly because you didn’t want to wake Judith, and partly because what he said about himself actually hurt you, Daryl sighed annoyed and looked away from you.

After a few minutes of silence you got up, still holding a sleeping Judith “look Daryl, I’m not going to lie, I love you, I really do. I truly believe you’d make a great father, not only because of what you’ve been through, no matter what it is, but also because you’re the best man I know, and I’ll always stand by you. I love you and the thought of maybe one day having a kid is scary as hell for me, but knowing you, I know you’d step up and be by my side as well, I truly believe that. If that’s not what you want then I understand that, I understand what happened with Lori, the fear Maggie and Glenn are going through, but if I’m honest, one day, somewhere safe, if there even is such a place, it’s something I wouldn’t mind” you turned around and left with Judith, going to your own cell to be more comfortable while Judith slept, you hadn’t fully moved in with Daryl, nor he with you, it was a silent question that hung in the air, but you wanted to give him time and space to think about it, if he’d even consider it after this.

[the-girl-in-the-box]

Not Today XIX

A/N: Well, I believe we have reached the climax of this story! Literally *so much* is going to happen in this chapter, and I am calling this my two hour midseason finale. Don't worry- I'm not going on any hiatus! This chapter is just twice as long as most chapters XD It's going to be really intense, *hopefully* really epic, and really emotional I should expect. This is also the last chapter before canon starts to change dramatically, aside from the addition of Aethelind, of course. So, I leave you with that information, and without further ado, present the climax of Not Today. Skål!

Summary: When Ivar takes the throne of Kattegat, Lagertha flees to Wessex along with Björn, Ubbe, Torvi, and the Bishop Heahmund. There, they seek the aid of King Alfred. This aid comes in the form of his sister, Aethelind, who agrees to travel to Kattegat and try to reason Ivar, who she spent some time with during their youth, when her grandfather King Ecbert hosted Ragnar Lothbrok in their castle. Now, she is the only hope for Lagertha and her supporters to retake Kattegat from Ivar the Boneless.

Masterlist

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Blood rushed through Aethelind's ears as she heard the screaming and clashing of swords outside. For a while, she had debated fighting with Ivar's army, but if she were to be killed... That would mean the loss of England's princess, when the only royalty they had now were Alfred and Elsewith. But Ivar was out there, and Freydis was in here, and if anything went wrong either of them- or, God forbid, both of them- could be gone in an instant.

How could she stand by and allow that to happen? Even without any sort of confirmation it would happen, the thought of it alone scared her out of her mind. There was no doubt in her that Freydis was the closest friend she'd ever had, with Ivar right beside her. Losing them was something that suddenly felt like a very real possibility, and it terrified her. Picturing their cold, lifeless bodies on the ground, blood seeping out from some wound, was just enough to make the decision for her.

Aethelind ran to her chambers and threw open the trunk she'd brought to Kattegat, searching through it for the sword she had brought with her. When she found it, she tossed the sheath aside and onto the bed. She wasn't going to be needing it on the battlefield after all, was she?

Preparations had been begun as soon as Ivar had ordered it, after she'd given him the letter which detailed his brother's attack on Kattegat. Or, at least, when it was coming. Being a friend to Björn had given her this benefit- he wanted to warn her when the attack would come, having not pictured, in any version of these events, that she would have become so close to Ivar, and ended up essentially on his side of the war he intended to start.

When Aethelind ran into the battlefield, her heart was pounding. This, she realized, was exactly what Hvitserk had been training her for for so long. This was what Björn had known she might face, as had all those Vikings who had trained her, when they wouldn't give her very many breaks during the fight. There was chaos in Kattegat, arrows flying and sticking in shields- something she very suddenly realized she didn't have.

It wasn't difficult to find one, though, and she managed to pull a red shield with a black sun on it- Ivar's symbol- from a bloodied corpse. She couldn't even tell who it might have been. But, they wouldn't need a shield now, and she did, so she took it, and lifted it above her head just in time to catch an arrow. Looking at the arrow with wide eyes, she focused again on the battle ahead.

People had been coming over the gates, while she could see something was trying to break through them. There was smoke coming from somewhere up ahead, and someone must have been burning, because the smell in the streets was horrific. No, that was the scent of multiple people burning alive.

Her eyes caught sight of Ivar, standing up on the gates and giving orders to his warriors- even if she couldn't hear every order he gave. That was the first place she began to fight toward, and she managed to reach him quickly enough. After all, though there were many fighters in Kattegat, most of them were on Ivar's side, waiting on Björn's forces to break through the gates. This made it easy enough to reach Ivar, and he looked stunned when he saw her, standing there with a shield and sword. The Princess was gone, and before him stood a Shieldmaiden, one loyal to him, he now knew for certain. After all, why would she have told him of Björn's arrival, and then fought against Björn's army, if she meant to betray him?

"What are you doing out here?" he ended up demanding of her. Perhaps she was every bit a Shieldmaiden, but he wasn't about to risk her life. Not if this battle could be won without doing so.

"I'm joining the battle, isn't it obvious?" she questioned, looking at him incredulously. "What does it look like to you?"

"Like you are mad!" he answered. "You cannot die out here, I won't allow it. You must be somewhere safe."

"And risk something happening I could have stopped?" she demanded, and let out a little laugh. "I don't think so! Ivar, what do you need me to do? I want to help." He blinked a few times as he watched her, and then finally, nodded a little. The gates caved.

Suddenly, there was a much greater threat to each person in that town, and both Ivar and Aethelind knew that. Their attention had been pulled momentarily to the gates, and then they looked back at each other, Ivar's orders for her decided.

"Get to Freydis," he commanded, and she gave a curt nod.

"No harm will come to her," Aethelind told him. "I swear it."

With that, the battle back to the Great Hall began, and she counted herself lucky that she was mostly able to keep the offending soldiers off of her, make them someone else's problem, as opposed to being forced to kill. But many of Ivar's warriors were beginning to form a shield wall, pressing Björn's army into a place they couldn't escape from. Vaguely, she wondered if Björn was among them, but she didn't have time to linger on that. She had to find the Queen.

The sound of the iron gate Ivar had commissioned being dropped reached her ears, and it became obvious what Ivar's plan was. The few stragglers didn't bother fighting her as they began to panic, looking for a way out, and she found she didn't quite have the heart to stop them- even if Ivar would have.

Instead, she kicked the door of the Great Hall in, and called out, "Freydis?! Freydis, where are you?!"

The Queen emerged with a frightened look on her face, and Aethelind rushed to her. "I looked for you and you were gone," she said shakily, her hands immediately going to the Princess's arms. "I was afraid they had taken you. Where did you go?"

"I went to see what I could do to help," she said. "Ivar sent me back here, to protect you. His brother's forces are inside the city, we need to get you to safety."

Freydis nodded a little, but shrieked and pulled away, causing Aethelind to whip around and see what had frightened her so badly.

There stood a man much larger than either woman, and he brought an axe down immediately against Aethelind. She threw the shield up to try and stop him, but it hacked through the shield and splintered it in half. Aethelind used this to her advantage, taking the sharp edge of the shield and stabbing at him with it while he lifted his axe again. It found its place in his neck, and blood sprayed her face. The man gurgled, and collapsed at her feet, but the sound of Freydis screaming, and the sickening sound of a knife piercing skin in the same place, multiple times over, kept her from feeling too horrified for the time being.

The man who had been attacking Freydis dropped to the ground, clinging to her skirts for a few moments, and Aethelind watched as Freydis began kicking him, screaming for him to let her go. Eventually, he did, as the last bit of life in his body left him, and the two women looked each other in the eyes.

"Come here," Aethelind said, and walked toward Freydis, opening her arms so that the young Queen could walk into them. She did exactly this, and Aethelind held her tightly as she cried. Her own heart was pounding, her eyes wide as she realized what had just happened, what had almost happened. That man had nearly killed Freydis, and the thought made Aethelind hold her just a little tighter. "You're safe now," she whispered. "You aren't going to die here. Not so long as I can help it."

Freydis nodded a little, and the two stood there like that until the sounds of battle died out, until she could only stand and shake, the tears having passed, and Aethelind couldn't bring herself to move. She was like a statue, eyes staring off at some invisible point on the ground. They had both survived, both taken a life to do so, but that was the nature of war.

Ivar was the one who eventually found them like this, some ash covering him, but no blood, which he was grateful for. He was not, however, grateful to find the two women he cared so deeply for covered in blood. When he saw the two bodies there, he knew exactly what must have happened, and he wordlessly approached, wrapped his arms around them. Letting his crutch fall to the ground wasn't exactly the safest call, but the battle against Björn Ironside had been won. He noticed that Freydis didn't pull away from him now, and he was grateful. He feared, sometimes, that their fighting would pull them apart to an unrepairable place. She seemed colder now, had even seemed colder than he was used to when he had asked her if she forgave him before this battle. Though she'd said yes, a part of him had to wonder if she was being entirely honest about that. He wouldn't have been so surprised if she weren't.

There was quiet, and peace, for the next few days, but Aethelind had changed. She didn't feel like the same woman who had left Wessex, and she doubted if she ever would be that woman again. Princesses in England didn't kill people, they didn't defend Viking Queens in distant lands, fight at the command of the most feared man in the world she knew. Maybe she wasn't so much of a Princess, anymore.

It almost felt, truthfully, like there was a darkness in her now that hadn't been there before. Ivar and Freydis had both noticed it, and while things hadn't gotten all that much better between them, there were shared glances between the two whenever they noticed her behaving in a way that didn't fit the Princess who had first arrived in Kattegat.

She drank more readily at the feast that had been held for their victory, as a start. That had never happened before. Perhaps she'd gotten a little tipsy the first night in Kattegat, but this was something else. It became glaringly obvious when she went to bed that night nowhere near sober.

Some days, she seemed to be in a daze. She'd avoid much interaction with people, hiding out as if she could avoid what had happened. Ivar still had her fitted with a new set of armor, made at full haste in case of another attack, and because he truly wanted her to be a Shieldmaiden, assuming she recovered mentally from this battle, and could handle it. They wouldn't see her recovered until something broke her out of the haze she seemed to be in. And that wouldn't happen, until she woke in the morning to the sound of her door being thrown open.

Aethelind shot up in her bed and pulled the blankets and quilts tighter to herself, looking at Ivar with wide eyes. He was dressed in his full armor, hair hastily braided out of his face, ready for battle. "What's happening?" she asked, anxiety clear in her voice.

"My brothers are in Kattegat," he said. "Someone let them in during the night." The sounds of battle registered in her ears, and she looked out the window. "If you are able, we need every sword we can get. It is chaos out there."

She nodded, and he couldn't decide if this was a surprise to him, or not so much. But, he also nodded, and left her, closing the door behind himself to give her time and privacy to prepare. He'd told Freydis to hide in their chambers, and she had done so. The lack of fear in her eyes had soothed him slightly, and if Aethelind joined him on the battlefield, then he believed they would have an excellent chance at victory.

Soon enough, his hopes came to pass. He was witness to the way the doors to the Great Hall opened, and the Shieldmaiden emerged, a sword fixed to her hip, armor covering her body in a way it hadn't before, her hair braided back away from her face. For just a moment, he could honestly believe she was not an English Princess at all, but a Viking Shieldmaiden, born and raised there in Kattegat. He wondered briefly if she might have had some Viking blood, somewhere in her history.

When she began to fight, he felt as though he saw it confirmed. The woman fought with a new ferocity that hadn't been there in the previous battle. Now, she fought with a strength and power behind every motion that stunned him. She slung her sword about, having unsheathed it a few moments before, and used her shield just as effectively as a weapon as it was an object for defense. The sight took him aback.

The battle raged on for hours, long enough that Freydis had managed to get herself dressed, had even done her hair, as if she were only preparing for her day. She was safe enough, she figured. Ivar's army wouldn't hurt her, and after what she had done for Björn's, she knew they wouldn't either. So, she was free to go about her business, so long as she didn't leave the longhouse.

Part of Aethelind wanted to go and look for her, be sure she was safe, as she noticed that Björn's army was gaining more and more ground, getting closer to the longhouse, and then she was doing all she could to defend it. Ivar was nearby, and he noticed the anxiety written in her eyes as she fought in the shield wall.

They didn’t speak, but an understanding was reached between them. Ivar went immediately into the longhouse to find Freydis.

What Aethelind didn’t realize, was Ivar’s anxiety was coming from a very different source than hers. Whereas she feared for Freydis’s safety, Ivar had been thinking. From what he could tell, Björn had led his army in through the secret escape, that he’d had built for his family in case of an emergency. The thing was, only his family knew of it. And Freydis…

She had gone somewhere that morning. She claimed it had been to relieve herself, but the timing now had Ivar unsure. He wanted it confirmed.

Aethelind wasn’t aware of what happened inside that longhouse, not as she fought with the other warriors and shieldmaidens to defend the King and Queen inside. But eventually, she saw they would be lost. This battle was essentially over, and Björn would win. Ivar and Freydis needed to leave Kattegat, and she would go with them to defend them. It was the only way.

She abandoned the shield wall and ran into the Great Hall, grabbing chairs and shoving them against the door to hold it. “Ivar, Freydis!” she called, not yet really looking into the room. “We need to go, they’re going to take Kattegat.”

The Shieldmaiden turned, and stopped in her tracks.

There, in the center of the hall, sat Ivar, holding Freydis in his arms, cradling her against his body with his crutch abandoned to the side. Aethelind blinked a few times, her heart pounding as she stepped forward. “Ivar…” she breathed, and he looked up at her, a hopelessness in his eyes she hadn’t ever seen. “What happened?”

He looked back at Freydis, and his voice cracked as he explained, “She let them in.”

This made Aethelind freeze again, blink a few times, before finally coming to kneel across from Ivar on Freydis’s other side. Her eyes were barely open, almost as if looking tiredly over Ivar’s shoulder, but the marks around her neck left no room to question what had happened. Aethelind brought up a hand and brushed the back of it over Freydis’s cheek. She hadn’t gone cold just yet, though she was cooling.

Freydis’s belt had clearly been dropped, was now sort of caught between Ivar’s hands on her chest. Ivar hadn’t found her this way, Aethelind realized. He had done this.

“What did you do?” she whispered, shaking her head slowly.

“I had no choice,” he said, his voice cracking once again. “She betrayed us, Aethelind. What was I supposed to do? Huh? I could not… I did not know-”

“You thought we still had a chance,” she finished for him. “And it would be better for everyone to believe she was killed in battle, as opposed to being charged with treason and executed for it.”

He nodded, and she swallowed hard, tears coming to her eyes. “I could not humiliate her that way,” he said.

It was a very Ivar way of trying to give mercy, she knew. This was the same sort of strange mercy he had tried to give to Baldur, in leaving him to die. And Aethelind knew, looking back over everything Freydis had said after her son’s death, why she’d done what she did. She knew the truth about Baldur, knew how horrible the fighting had become between her and Ivar- though the full extent of that, the fact Ivar had hit her, and choked her once, had not been made known to her- and she knew Freydis had begun to question if Ivar was fit to be King. Looking back, this made sense.

The fighting was growing quieter, aside from the cries of death. It would be done soon, and their warriors would not be the ones still standing. Time was running out. Aethelind looked up at the door as she realized this, and then turned to Ivar.

“You have to go,” she said sharply. “We aren’t going to win this. If you want to live, you need to leave Kattegat, now.”

"I cannot leave-" Ivar tried to protest, but Aethelind looked in his eyes, her own eyes almost begging him with a sort of soft desperation, and his words died on his lips.

"I cannot lose you," she whispered. "I won't. So go, before your brothers come, and they find you here. Please. Don't make me lose you, too."

He swallowed hard, and she could see the determination come over him. His mind was made up to escape, and so she nodded. Aethelind reached down and lifted Freydis into her arms, standing and carrying her back toward the chambers she'd shared with Ivar. The Shieldmaiden laid the Queen out on the bed, and Ivar went to find something, a small box, which he laid beside the bed. Neither of them needed to speak to know what was held within it.

"We'll go through the same way my brothers came in," Ivar said. "There is a secret exit. If we go now, we can be gone before Björn and Hvitserk find us."

Aethelind shook her head, and replied, "I'll meet you. If we go together, they'll follow us. But I can buy us some time if I intercept them here." He tried to protest, but she shook her head. "There’s no time to argue this, Ivar. Just go, I will follow. You have my word."

Ivar nodded when she promised him this. Her word had always been good before, and he knew it would be now. Especially knowing Björn and Hvitserk wouldn't kill her, not so long as either of them still cared for her as he knew- from the letter and from having observed her with Hvitserk- they both had at some time.

So, he slipped out the back, and Aethelind watched him go. The longhouse felt deadly silent once he was gone, and her eyes turned back to the body of Freydis, laid out on the bed. She moved to fix her belt around her hips once more, before sitting beside her, and taking one of her hands into her own.

"Oh, my love..." she began softly. "Dearest Freydis. My heart aches from your loss. I have loved you overwhelmingly, in some way I am sure I have never loved another. You were the closest friend I have ever known, a woman I'd have been happy and proud to have had in my life until the end of it. But now, I will mourn you until my final breath leaves my lungs, and I will love you twice as long. I pray you will be happy in your Valhalla, sweet Freydis." She reached up and cupped her cheek, tears leaking from her eyes. "You are gone from this world too soon, and this world will never know another like you. I love you deeply, and though I will never see you again, I will hold your memory as a light in my heart, and I pray you are happy in Valhalla, for I know that must be where you've gone. I hear your people go there when they have died fighting, but I believe your sacrifice, for what you believed was the best future of Kattegat, will have earned you a place in Odin's halls. So go with haste, my love, and know there will never be a day I don't miss your presence in my life."

Her voice cracked, and she leaned up to kiss Freydis's forehead softly, before pressing her own forehead to hers, and bringing her hand to her lips. "I failed to protect you as I said I would, and I doubt if I will ever forgive myself for this. But I doubt you have ever truly hated Ivar, and so I want you to know, I will save him. Even if I could not save you, I will save him. I swear it to you, Freydis, on your gods, and on mine. I will not let him die, whatever the cost."

The doors were kicked in at the front, and Aethelind looked back, hearing calls for Ivar. The voices were those of Björn and Hvitserk, voices she would have recognized anywhere. It was time to go, and time to ensure Ivar had time to escape.

She arranged Freydis's hands so they were folded on her stomach, and kissed her cheek one last time. "Goodbye, my beloved Freydis," she whispered again, and then she stood, to go out into the Great Hall to do what needed to be done. “Goodbye.”

Björn and Hvitserk were stunned by the sight of Aethelind as bloodied as she was, with tear tracks running down her face. The woman had a look of devastation about her, but with a sword at her side, covered in armor, they realized what she had been through that day. She had fought, and she had lost someone.

Hvitserk was the first to try and speak to her, even if her eyes hardened the moment he did. "Princess," he said, and she threw up a hand to stop him.

"Don't," she hissed out. "Too much has happened here, I don't want to hear my old titles. Not now, until I know what to think of myself."

Björn blinked slowly as he watched her. Somehow, even if he'd seen her fight in Wessex as she was training, he had a hard time recognizing this as her. Perhaps it was the fact she had still always returned to the polite princess, whereas Hvitserk saw her at feasts, eating and drinking (though, the latter in moderation) with the other Vikings.

"What has happened to you?" Björn asked, taking a step toward her. She took a step back.

"I have lost the woman I loved most in this world," she said. "Most of my family are dead, save for Alfred. And now, I have to leave Kattegat and disappear."

"Why are you leaving Kattegat?" Hvitserk questioned, confused. "Björn said-"

"Björn has not been here," Aethelind interrupted. "I told you, too much has happened here. Things have changed, now." She took a deep breath. "I have to go with Ivar."

Both brothers froze in their place, and looked at her with shock on their faces. Hvitserk didn’t move as he processed everything, though Björn did, stepping back and chuckling bitterly. He shook his head and put his hands on his hips.

“You are going with Ivar?” he questioned. “We sent you here to change his mind, to get him to step down, not to join his side! What are you doing, Princess?”

Her eyes hardened a little more. “I told you I don’t want that title,” she reminded him. “Not now, at least.”

“And why not? Has he changed you so much? Is that it?”

Aethelind huffed. “I find myself in the same place as my father, if you must know,” she confessed. “I am trapped between the English and the Norse, and I can’t choose one right now. I have come to love this place, but… I’m not sure I can just abandon Wessex. I am their Princess, but I also feel I am a Shieldmaiden. My people would never accept this, so I have to choose which I’m going to be. I’ve been the Princess my entire life, and I have to try this, now. It’s the only way to know where I belong.”

“Then stay with us in Kattegat,” Björn begged. “There is no need to run off with my brother!”

She laughed at that, and shook her head. “There is every need!” she countered. “He has lost everything. His son died, as has his wife, and you unseat him from the throne he won in battle. He has no family and no home, because I can see you’ve deserted him as well. Both of you.” Her eyes turned to Hvitserk, and he could see the pain in them. In going to Björn, he had effectively left her, as well. She felt betrayed. The thought of betraying her caused her pain to be reflected in his own eyes now. “I can’t let him be alone,” she continued. “If no one is left to care for him, I will. I promised Freydis I would protect him, and I told him I would not lose him. He will not lose me, either. I couldn’t save her, but I will save him if it is within my power. And if it is not, I will do all I can to try and make it so.”

Björn was clearly becoming frustrated with this. “Princess, step aside,” he said, and started to walk toward the back of the longhouse. Aethelind got in his way and drew her sword.

“I am not Princess Aethelind any longer,” she said sharply. “I am a Shieldmaiden, daughter of Athelstan, who was dear to your father, and just as he followed your father, I will follow Ivar. Perhaps one day I will have a child, and they will follow one of yours, and that is the fate of our lineages, but we will not know until then. So for now, Björn Ironside, I advise you stand down. Ivar will have already gone, and I need to catch up to him.”

“Where will you go?” Hvitserk asked her, taking a non-threatening step toward her. She gave him a sad smile.

“I don’t know,” she said. “But I go with him.”

Björn huffed. “This is ridiculous,” he said. “Step aside, or I will have to move you to get to Ivar.”

“You’ll have to fight me,” she said decisively. “You won’t get to him except through me.”

Hvitserk was growing more and more uneasy, seeing his brother’s temper grow, especially when he knew Aethelind had become a well-trained swordswoman. He couldn’t guess how much she had grown since he left, but if she’d continued to practice… Fighting her may not be the wisest thing.

But, when had Björn ever been the wisest?

He finally growled and unsheathed his own sword, bringing it down hard against her. She threw her sword up and caught his with it, holding it away from her face. “So, your hatred for your brother outweighs any care you have ever had for me?” she asked, and Björn could see the hurt in her eyes. “I would have given you Kattegat. All I would have asked is that you let us go free.”

“It was never yours, nor Ivar’s, to give,” he answered her, and she pushed back against him, bringing her sword back around toward his side. Hvitserk could only stand aside as he watched the two fight, and he could see she had changed.

The amount of blood on her face suggested she’d killed that day, and the fire in her eyes suggested she would again, if she must. Taking a life was something that could change a person, and he knew he could see that change in her. The way he spoke, he could tell she was, at her core, still Aethelind, still the kind woman with a depth in her he hadn’t expected from a Saxon Princess. But it was like she said, she was caught between the English and Norse sides of herself. Now, she was indulging the side of herself that did not shirk at the sight of blood, didn’t recoil when it splashed over her face. In any other circumstance, he might have been proud.

Watching her and Björn standing off again, however, was not that circumstance. She’d flipped her sword around to her other hand at one point to block one of his attacks, and then he had gone over her head again. She’d still managed to catch his sword as she had at the beginning of their fight, but her grip was weaker now, her sword being braced by her non-dominant hand. Hvitserk remembered a trick she’d pulled on him once, and he could see the calculating happening in her eyes. For a split second, she could picture Björn hitting the ground, pulled by some unseen force, and she made her move.

Her leg wrapped around the back of his, and she yanked it out from under him, throwing off his balance and pulling him to the ground. As soon as he was down she stepped on his wrist, making his hand open reflexively so she could use her sword to sling his away. Pointing the tip of her sword at him, she began to back up.

“I’m leaving,” she said sharply. “With Ivar, and you will not follow us. You have Kattegat, that is all you need. You don’t need to kill your brother. After all, I was under the impression you had that grievance with him. Surely, you don’t want to follow in his footsteps.”

Björn blinked up at her in shock, and Hvitserk stood back, watching her. “Go then,” Björn said. “You fought for his life, and you won. But I won’t back down again.”

Aethelind nodded sharply. “Noted,” she said, her voice tense. With a deep breath, then exhaled, she finished, “Goodbye, Björn.” She nodded once more at Hvitserk, before turning and rushing from the room.

She paused and looked at Freydis briefly as she hit the threshold, and swallowed. She couldn’t stop and spend a final moment with her. Aethelind began to move again. However, the sound of someone running after her in the hall stopped her, and she turned back. It was Hvitserk, and instead of attacking her when he reached her, he wrapped his arms tightly around her and held her.

“I thought we would have a happy reunion,” he said quietly. “It appears the gods had other plans.”

When Aethelind realized this would not be anything hostile, she smiled sadly and returned his embrace. “For the time being, at least,” she agreed. “You and I both know I have to go with Ivar, but though I leave with him, you need to know my prayers stay with you.” She chuckled a little. “And with Björn. We have fought today, but I cannot find it in myself to harbor ill will toward him.”

Hvitserk allowed himself a small smile as he pulled back, looking down at her with his hands on her arms. “I knew you had not changed so much,” he said. “But I see you are a Shieldmaiden, now. If it makes you happy, then I want you happy. I just want to be sure you are careful.”

Aethelind nodded, her eyes falling to the ground for a moment. “You warned me once to be careful of Ivar, before you left,” she said quietly. “I still am. But I have come to know him too deeply to let him go alone with good conscience. You have Björn, and I hope with Kattegat reclaimed, you will soon have Lagertha, and Ubbe, and Torvi as well. They will love you here, while my love will still be with you, just… from wherever Ivar and I go.” Her eyes had lifted back up to his at the end, and she found him smiling sadly.

“I trust you,” he said. “I do not trust Ivar, I still think he is crazy, but I trust you.” She gave him a small nod, smiling bittersweetly, and he leaned down to kiss her forehead, before pressing his to hers. “Goodbye, Princess, Shieldmaiden… whoever you decide to be.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head and stepping away now. “I won’t say goodbye anymore. Everyone I have said goodbye to has died before I see them again, save for my brother. I won't risk that with you, Hvitserk."

“You don’t believe you will see Björn again?” he questioned, realizing she had said goodbye to him.

“If God wills it, I will,” she said. “But I doubt it. You, I will hold out hope for.”

Hvitserk gave a small chuckle, and nodded. “Then I hope to see you again,” he said, and her smile grew.

“That is much better,” she said agreeably. “Until then, my Prince.” She bowed to him, formally recognizing his new position in Kattegat, now that Björn would be King. “I have to go to my…” She paused, not quite sure what exactly to call the man who she knew was getting farther away, and who she really needed to get to. “To Ivar,” she settled on.

“To your friend?” Hvitserk offered.

“He’s more than that,” she confessed.

“Brother?”

Her face scrunched up in a very disturbed way. “Definitely not.”

There was silence for a moment, before Hvitserk suggested, “…Lover?”

She seemed to consider that for a moment longer than the others, before coming dissatisfied with it as well. “Not quite.”

His face revealed a little shock, but not too much. Not so much that he wasn’t still a little amused by her admission. “Your Ivar, then,” he allowed, and she chuckled.

“My Ivar,” she agreed.

And, with that, Aethelind turned and left. When the door swung open, he saw Ivar standing there, and realized he hadn’t gone just yet. If he called for Björn, they could catch him. Instead, the two brothers locked eyes, and Hvitserk nodded once. Ivar mirrored him, and Aethelind took his free hand in her own. The messages passed between the two were clear:

Take care of her.

I will.

Hvitserk returned to the Great Hall to find Björn, and Ivar and Aethelind, hand in hand, left Kattegat to go wherever they must.

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[mizjoely]

Day 12: Office Holiday Party

I've gone more than a bit off piste with this ASiB redo, but it does start with an office party, so there is that...It's also a bit long so it's under the cut below. Enjoy!

Office Holiday Party

She doesn’t attend John and Sherlock’s Christmas party, even though John invites her. It’s the same night as the St. Bart’s party and she attends that one instead, a spur-of-the-moment decision that she makes after thinking about (brooding a bit) the fact that it was John that invited her, somewhat off-handedly, rather than Sherlock. While she waffled she’d bought gifts for the two of them, and one for Mrs. Hudson, Greg Lestrade, and even something for John’s new girlfriend (the ‘boring teacher with the dogs’, is how she vaguely recalls Sherlock’s description of the poor woman). She debates her decision long and hard, but in the end caution wins out over hope, and off to Barts she pops. She’ll deliver the gifts on her way home, she decides, if it isn't too late.

She wears a new dress - black, with black straps decorated in silver and a fitted skirt (she never learned the proper names of skirt shapes aside from “pencil” and “mini”). She carefully does her hair, letting it cascade down her back, and dons a silver bow in honor of the season; she drinks a bit too much rum punch and enjoys herself as much as someone who’s as socially awkward as she is can.

As she’s gathering her things preparatory to leaving - still of two minds whether she’ll go home or stop by 221B Baker Street - she hears a commotion by the doors. She looks over, surprised and a little disconcerted to see Sherlock Holmes in the company of a slightly older man she’s never seen before.

“Ah, Sherlock, good of you to join us!” Mike Stamford says, cheeks flushed with hearty good cheer - and more than a bit of that rum punch. He thrusts a plastic cup into Sherlock’s hand. “Toast the season with us, eh?”

Sherlock doesn’t take so much as a single polite sip, simply hands the cup back to Mike while his eyes scan the crowd. He stops when he finds Molly, their eyes meeting, and he beelines for her while Mike sputters a protest (and quickly downs the rejected drink) and the stranger follows in Sherlock’s wake.

She recognizes him when they get closer; she doesn’t know his name but she’s seen him around the hospital once or twice during government inspections. “Miss Hooper,” he says, his voice very much Government Official, “if you would be so kind, there’s a body we need to examine.”

She looks uncertainly at Sherlock - surely they don’t want her to perform an autopsy when she’s half in the bag! - and he offers her a curt nod. “We just need to look at it,” he says, his voice a bit rough with some unidentifiable (to her, at any rate) emotion. “To possibly identify it. Her.”

Molly stammers out her willingness to be of help and the three of them head down to the morgue. She finds the proper drawer and wheels the body out for the two men (who is the older man and how does he know Sherlock?) to examine.

The face is badly damaged, bashed in with some sort of blunt instrument so she’s not sure exactly how they’re going to be able to identify the woman - but then Sherlock whisks back the sheet and nods. “It’s her.”

He turns and leaves without another word, and Molly looks over at Mr. Government. “Who is she?” she asks. “And how did he identify her from...not her face?”

The man gives her a rather pitying smile, then leaves without answering either question.

She puts the body back and heads out, only to find Sherlock waiting for her. He smells of cigarettes but she can hardly blame him for needing some sort of crutch, not tonight. “Share a cab?” he asks, then escorts into the one that arrives at his hail, climbing in next to her.

“Are you all right?” she asks.

He shrugs. “How was the party?” he asks, obviously changing the subject.

She shrugs back at him. “It was all right, I guess. Lots of booze and people getting a bit too chummy with each other, if you know what I mean.” She laughs somewhat self-consciously. “Of course you know what I mean, what was I thinking, putting it that way.”

“What about you?”

“Pardon? What about me?” she asks, confused.

He’s looking straight ahead, not at her, and his jaw is clenched. “Did you get ‘a bit too chummy’ with anyone?” He reaches out, still without looking, and fingers the fabric of her skirt. “That’s a new dress, a bit fancy for an office party, don’t you think? And that shade of lipstick, such a bright red!” He glances critically at her bag of gifts - gifts for him and the others who’d attended the party at 221B - and adds with a sneer, “It matches the ribbon on that top gift, the one you’ve taken so much care to wrap. For your new boyfriend?”

Before Molly can do more than gape at him - her cheeks reddening in humiliation, he continues, his lip curling in a sneer, “Judging by your appearance, Miss Hooper, it’s obvious you have lurrrve on your mind.”

She wants to slap him. She wants to slap him three times, so badly that she balls her hands into fists to keep from doing so. “Are you finished?” she asks when he finally falls silent. “I know you’ve had a shock tonight, but that’s no excuse to take it out on me!” She shakes her head. “You always say such terrible things.”

They remain in cold, uncomfortable silence almost until they reach Molly’s flat. As she starts to get out of the cab he stops her with a hand on her arm. “I am sorry,” he says softly. “Forgive me.” Then he leans forward and drops a kiss on her cheek.

“Why?” she asks, ignoring the cabbie’s grumbled complaints of ‘you gettin’ out or not, miss?’ from the driver’s seat. “Sherlock, what’s going on? Who was that woman?” She draws in a deep breath and asks him the question she’d asked the other man at the hospital. “How did you recognize her from not her face?”

Sherlock responds by handing the annoyed cabbie the fare, then ushering her out of the cab and joining her on the pavement. “Let’s go inside, shall we?” he says, indicating her front door. Still a bit dazed, Molly unlocks the door and waits until they’ve shed overcoats and shoes (no wet shoes on her nice clean carpets, thank you very much!) and settled on the sofa.

“Not what I would have expected,” he says, glancing around and taking in the clean, cool colors and lines of her minimalist first floor.

“I had a decorator in,” she says with a shrug. “I need someplace calm to unwind after a hectic day’s work and...Sherlock,” she interrupts herself, daringly placing a hand on his, “please. Tell me.”

So he does; surprisingly, he tells her even more than she’d asked. Irene Adler is the woman’s name - no, The Woman, she thinks with a pang. She can hear the capitalization, the importance of this client, in the way he speaks, sees the pain he’s trying to hide in his eyes. “You look sad,” she blurts out as he finally falls silent. She ignores the silent rejoicing in her heart at his description of his and John’s first meeting with Irene and her nudity, instead giving his hand a slight squeeze of sympathy. “I’m sorry, she must have meant a great deal to you even though she was a client.”

A client and definitely an adversary of sorts; just the sort of woman to pique his interest, she thinks sadly. Not like me at all.

“Stop that,” Sherlock says sharply, and Molly looks up at him, startled. She’s even more startled to realize that their hands are still clasped; when she tries to pull away he makes an irritated sort of growling noise and holds her tighter. “You’re thinking far too loudly, Molly. There’s no need for you to be jealous. Yes, I admit, she caught my attention, she was a challenge but don’t ever feel you need to compare yourself to her.”

With a flash of insight - that she prays isn’t just her hopes, however forlorn, getting the better of her - Molly breathes out a soft “Oh” and says, “You don’t have to be jealous either, Sherlock.” She reaches with her free hand into the bag of gifts and pulls out the top one with its red bow and careful wrapping and hands it to him. “Go on, read the tag.”

Brow furrowed, he does so, remaining silent for a long pair of minutes before finally speaking. “Dearest Sherlock, love Molly,” he reads, then looks up at her. “Girlfriends aren’t my area, Molly.”

She nods. “I-I understand.” She can feel tears clogging her throat but she’s never been one to cry in front of anyone, especially not a man. Certainly not this man.

She tries to pull her hand away again, only to let out a muffled squeak as he suddenly hauls her closer, until their faces are only inches apart. “I’ll be a terrible boyfriend, Molly, but perhaps...you’d be willing to give me a chance?”

Then he kisses her, and she kisses him back, and all she can think is that if she’d just gone to his party in the first place, maybe they could have been doing this that much sooner. Or perhaps not; either way, she’ll never know, but she’s happy enough with the way things have turned out not to care.

[jocazep]

In the Whole Wide Train | Chapter 10

Author’s notes: Hi, remember me? Sorry about the six-month hiatus, but I’m back at it! And it gon’ get dark (even more so than before), so this is just me laying in the groundworks early... ENJOY~

Pairing: Curtis Everett x Reader (Jo, OFC), slight Edgar x Reader

Warnings: Major spoilers for SNOWPIERCER, dystopian society and its countless problems, mentions of forced abortions, language, violence, deaths, slow burn, eventual smut

Synopsis: Having grown up in the Front Sections of the Snowpiercer, you venture down the train when a rare opportunity presents itself, but the excursion quickly changes flavor when you arrive in the Tail Section.

Taglist: Now closed

Series Masterlist

Chapter 10 - Trading Secrets

Curtis couldn’t remember the last time he slept so well--it must have been before the train. There were no dreams, there were no nightmares, just deep, post-climax slumber as if the world around him has melted away--until the alarm blaring “oh-seven-hundred-hours” yanked him out.

He jumped up, but had to take a second before realizing where he was, as the rest of the revolters joined him, stirring awake and confused--the world outside was pitch dark.

“We’re traveling against time zones” Your voice sounded from behind--Curtis turned to see you walking up with a cup of hot water in hand, ”C’mon, need to make some arrangements before we push on.”

“Good morning to you, too.” He took your extended hand, stood up, and pulled you in for a quick kiss. You didn’t kiss back. “What’s the matter?”

“Oh nothing. Gilliam is looking for us is all.”

The truth of the matter is a little bit more complicated than that.

You woke up early. As a medical apprentice, you used to do that before you had important appointments, as it would clear your head and prepare for your day, but today you found no such effect.

Your eyes fixated on Curtis as he lay next to you, breathing in and out, but your head was a million miles away. What was last night? Was it just two people seeking solace in each other after the death of a mutual friend? Or was it the culmination of all those little touches and stolen glances and shared silences? Did it mean anything to him? More importantly, did it mean anything to you?

But then Mason entered your mind in stealth, slowly gnawing away in the back of your head, until you couldn’t focus on the inner debate between your commitment to your father vs. your--your what? Your responsibility? Your debt?--whatever it is you owe to the revolt.

So you push yourself up, and padded barefoot towards where Mason was being held captive.

“It’s about time.” Her unmistakable accent greeted you before your eyes could find her, “ah is that water?”

You didn’t respond, but dipped the mug in your hand lower so she could suck a mouthful of the liquid before you rescinded it.

“Any chance you can spare some food as well, my dear?”

“Not unless you want the fish they gutted before the fight.” You sat down next to Mason, and silence fell for a second.

“Well, I suppose we should make a de--”

“When did he send you to the tail section?”

“Excuse me?”

“I said how old were you when my father first sent you to the tail sections?”

“I must have been around...well, your age.“

“You don’t know how old I am.”

“You, Joanna Catherine Watt Wilford, are thirty-two years and some three odd months old.”

You stare at Mason in astonishment.

“I’ve seen your birth certificate. There was a time when Mr. Wilford thought about giving you to a foster family... After your mother passed away of course...” Mason took a pause, “But I thought you are here to warn me--”

“I am.” You kept your eyes straight ahead, “This is just my human interest story for the report.”

You tend to forget that for some people, there was a life before the train, since you had barely turned fifteen when your estranged father plucked you from the monotony of a privileged private school, into a monotony of the train.

But hey, at least you got to practice medicine and help people. Is that what I’m doing now?

“The report--that’s why I first went down there too, you know...He must see it as a rite of passage.” A smile threatens to break as Mason reminisced about her past.

“Was it..” You didn’t know how to phrase the question, but luckily Mason caught onto your train of thought.

“Oh dear, even more so. Mr. Wilford really turned it around. They were surviving on rats and vermin before the protein block assembly. When I first went down there... it’s as if all society had broken down. There was stories about this pregnant woman... And when they found out who I was, they chained me up and almost tore me to pieces. Imagine what they would do to you. ”

You had heard enough, “All right, here’s the deal. I keep you alive, you keep your mouth shut about me. Sound good?”

Mason nodded enthusiastically as you stood up to leave. “Just one more thing, what does Mr. Wilford want with Curtis?”

You did not look back, “Ask another wrong question, and my father will hear about it.”

Mason all but clasped her hands onto her mouth.

You were planning to sneak back and lay your head on Curtis’ chest, relive the little escape you two had before the day had to begin, but today luck just wasn’t on your side. As your turned the corner back into the makeshift dorm, soft crying and sniffling caught your attention.

It was Tanya. By the dim moonlight reflected from the snow, you could see her clutching a piece of paper and wiping tears from her face. By the time you realized it was the charcoal drawing of Timmy she was holding, it was too late to turn back.

Noticing the light shift, Tanya sat up and look at the person standing a few feet from her. You didn’t know what to do for a moment. You two haven’t been alone since you came clean about Timmy. In a letter no less, you coward.

“I didn’t mean to--”

Tanya lay back down and closed her eyes.

What was the rest of your sentence anyway? You asked yourself as you padded towards the infirmary section, sleep now the last thing on your mind. Didn’t mean to pry? Didn’t man to take Timmy? Didn’t mean to get so close to Curtis and the revolt?

You were pulled from the reverie by Yuna’s hand tugging your sleeve. Around you, the men were deep in discussion, figuring out how many people to station at each section.

Yuna slipped you a piece of paper torn from the small notebook you gifted her. On it she had drawn a picture of herself and Namgoong in the prison section, the many drawers colored dark and ominous. Yuna pointed to the drawers.

“It’s a little advanced for you but ok,” you took the pencil from her and spelled out the word prison, “Prison, it’s a place to hold people that have broken the law.”

Yuna didn’t seem to like that word. She wrestled the paper from you, pointed to the drawers again, and looked at you, waiting for a response.

“Jo?” You whipped your head back to the much less mystifying, but much more important meeting.

“Yes, I’m sorry.”

Curtis gave you an update, “Gilliam will stay behind, with 50 men stationed in the water section, then 15 men at each other section before our base,” Base is what you called the tail section now, “Grey will stay with Gilliam as well.”

“Nonsense, Grey will be much more useful to you than me.”

You shot a look at Gilliam as he chimed in, wondering if he really meant it.

“I think Grey should stay too. We are already a large pack as it is--”

“Don’t forget, Jo, we’re going ahead to take the engine,” Gilliam gave you a long look, “who knows what you will find there”.

Right. You bit your tongue and didn’t argue any further. Let’s never forget

“We were trying to decide what we should do about Mason.” Namgoong picked up the thread of discussion, “What do you think?”

“She’s injured, will only slow us down.” Grey’s voice was very quiet.

“I would rather keep her close than let her stay with the captured soldiers. Who knows what she’ll get them up to.”

“That’s fair, I can’t possibly keep an eye on her the whole time,” Gilliam agreed.

“Tanya’s doing a great job watching her.” *So that’s why she’s not in the meeting.*

“She didn’t want to come with us?”

“Of course she did, but--”

“I think Jo’s saying Tanya should go with you.”

The discussion wrapped up quickly after that, as dusk was threatening to break over the horizon. Your partners in crime stood up and went off--there were bags to pack, arrangements to make, and farewells to say.

You dragged your feet, hoping to spend a few minutes with Gilliam before setting off.

“Having doubts, dear?” Gilliam clicked by on his crutch.

“Before I first came down--”

“Perhaps it’s best you don’t tell me exactly what Wilford asked of you.” Sometimes you wish you had his ability to see right through everything.

“You don’t want to know?”

“I would be lying if I said I didn’t,” Gilliam chuckled, “But I’ve feigned ignorance too many times, even for someone my age. I’d like this occasion to be real.”

“Then...can I ask how much you know?”

“As far as I know, the revolt should have served its purpose after the water supply section.”

You nodded, “Do you ever ask yourself, why he always landed on culling?”

“It wasn’t just him, my dear.”

For the second time that day, you stared in astonishment.

“Perhaps you’re the only person with whom I can share this secret.” There were mini explosions happening in your head as Gilliam spoke, “No past revolt has gotten past the water section. Sometimes it was disorganization, sometimes it was survival instincts, sometimes just plain human greed. But every time, the necessary culling would take place, and the tail section would treasure its existence that was magnanimously gifted by Wilford.”

“Why did they settle?”

“The very first revolts that took place, was only six months into the train journey. Curtis was a little past seventeen, completely unaware, and Edgar, god rest his soul, was just a baby. The leader, he rallied enough people to fight. But every battle cost heavily on his side. Byt the time he got to the prison section, there were only a handful of adult men left. And Mason, who was also a surveyor at the time, managed to entice him with promises of a better life. He held out for a while, but eventually he chose the devil he knew.”

“Your point being?"

"My point being, there's only so much you can do at one given time. Learn to pick your battles."

---

You left Gilliam soon after, head still reeling from the secrets he confided, wondering if he ever regretted his past decisions.

“Hey...” Curtis snuck up on you, taking your hand. You jumped slightly, taken out of your trance. “Do you realize this will be the last time we’re alone for a while?”

“Yeah...?”

He pulled you into him, and caught your lips in a long kiss. You both stumble towards the steel walls of the train, eventually settling in a nook. Curtis dipped his tongue past your teeth, tangling with your tongue, one of his knee wedging between your legs, bringing back heated vignettes of last night. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your hips bucking against his thigh, your belly bumping up against his increasing hardness.

Curtis eventually lifts his lips from you, allowing you to breathe, while he latches onto the side of your neck. His hand roams up your belly, kneading your breasts, squeezing your side--

“Ow!”

“Shit, sorry,” Hard pause as he remembers your injury, “Is it getting better?”

“No, but I’ll live,” you answered, breathless, “when we get to the health section I’ll take a closer look.”

Curtis rest his head against yours, gulping for air, “This is your injury number three, huh?”

“Yeah, you are bad news for me.”

From the front of the section, someone called out, “Curtis, Jo, we’re doing the portrait!”

“You gonna be okay there?” You eyed his bulge.

“Yeah, just gimme a minute...”

The portrait took longer than you expected. While Painter took down your likeness in charcoal, Andrew was playing with the now captive Mason, asserting his newly-earned dominance over this once proud magistrate.

“I was hoping to talk about it earlier.” Curtis said out of the corner of his mouth as you all stood, eight half-frozen figures.

“I...enjoyed it?” You said, tongue in cheek, “Would recommend to a friend.”

“Funny,” Curtis couldn’t help the smile creeping onto his face,  “But seriously...”

“I mean...” You looked up at him, “If we both survive when this is all over...”

You were joking but the words hit home for Curtis, as he remembered Edgar. Will you both come out of this alive? He had always considered himself as someone with nothing to lose, but now...

You turned away as you noticed Curtis staring into the distance. Gilliam was standing in the front of the crowd that would stay behind, looking at you with his signature elderly smile, and something else just behind the glasses, a mutual understanding that this is truly farewell.

You found yourself running his words again and again in your head.

“The leader asked for running water, and a stable food supply. Wilford agreed, but asked the leader to help him maintain the balance in the tail section whenever necessary. A few months later, the protein blocks started coming in, a washroom was unlocked, and my secret phone compartment was installed.”

Taglist: @torntaltos @emmalbg @ajosieface 

[jebazzled]

SOOO the Drama: Making it Work with Tragic Backstories

Hi everyone, how are we doing? It’s been a while since my last unsolicited tutorial. Is everyone eating well? Is everyone drinking water? Dressing warmly if it’s cold wherever you live? 

Today we’ll be talking about tragic backstories, and how to use them rather than abuse them. 

This tutorial will mention a number of triggers, though not with great detail - more in the interest of providing context. 

Specific triggers mentioned: abandonment, verbal abuse, child neglect, car accident, transphobia, animal death, cheating, bullying, parental death

In the rp community we often joke about loving to put our characters through hell - about really running them ragged - making ourselves weepy. For a lot of us, writing Heavy Emotional Content is a lot more fun than fluff, or characters who are happy, fulfilled, and well-adjusted. I’m literally planning to kill off one of my characters in the next couple of weeks. I get it. 

But there’s also a fair amount of discourse in the rp community about what is pejoratively called “trauma porn.” It’s discourse that is warranted! Because while we love fictional drama, the truth is that sometimes...

well, sometimes it can be too much, can’t it? 

Here’s the thing about trauma: a tragic backstory does not a well-developed character make. Too often, too many of us lean on these traumatic histories as a crutch towards building a character, without meaningfully exploring that trauma with any depth. The truth is, in fiction, tragedy only builds character when when you do. And tragedy is far from the only way to create a nuanced character. 

In this tutorial, we will examine common approaches to character backstories, alternatives to tragedy-as-a-default, and figure out how to have your cake (the feels) and eat it too (with purpose.)

BUILD-A-BACKSTORY

In my experience, the most common approach to writing a freestyle application is writing a chronological history (you can read my app guides, including thots on alternative styles of freestyle, here). Ain’t nothing wrong with that! If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it! 

It’s an approach that makes sense, as it forces you to fill in the blanks to answer the question: why is my character Like That? And often, as writers, our first instinct is to provide the saddest answer possible.

“Why is Susie so clingy?” 

Her parents abandoned her at a fire station when she was an infant, and rather than being raised in foster care, she grew up at the fire station. But the entire company that raised her died while fighting a wildfire, and she is certain that any time anyone walks away from her, they will never come back. 

“Why is Brent such a misogynist?” 

His mother never wanted him and told him so every day of his youth. When he hit puberty, she stopped speaking to him entirely, and the day he turned eighteen, she changed the locks while he was at school. 

“Why is Lichen such a high-achieving go-getter?” 

Lichen was born with glass bones and paper skin. Every morning they break their legs, and every afternoon they break their arms. At night, they lie awake in agony until their heart attacks put them to sleep.

Feels like a lot, doesn’t it? I may have done a little exaggeration, but - not a lot, frankly. 

Especially if other characters on a site are loaded with tragic histories, it can be hard not to equate a certificate from the school of hard knocks with a Pulitzer. You want something juicy to write about, yes? And this is all so juicy! 

But here’s the rub: often, these histories will never come up again outside of an application, or will not be practically dev’d out beyond shock value. Susie will never be reminded of Frank, the fireman who taught her to ride a bike. Brent will focus his sexist comments on objectifying women’s bodies rather than degrading their personalities and motives, which were the issues with his mother. Someone who didn’t read Lichen’s app would have no clue that they have had a total horror show of a life. 

If you are writing a tragic backstory that doesn’t have a continual impact on your character, you are writing trauma porn, and it is doing nothing for your character. 

This doesn’t mean that your characters should be fully and constantly occupied with memories of their trauma - in fact, constant introspection is an easy way to stall threads (per my “why aren’t people writing with me?” guide here) - but it does mean that if your answer to the question, “why is my character Like That” is a compelling one, it is one that a reader should be able to answer even if they haven’t read your app, if they’ve read a few of your threads or other writing. 

This is a careful balance, of course, but think of your characters the way you think of yourself! For example: probably the most Potentially Dramatic thing about my personal life is that my older sister is developmentally disabled, and I am one of her legal guardians. When my parents die, I will inherit my older sister, and will uproot my life from wherever I am living at the time to move back to my hometown and make sure she is taken care of and happy. This is not something that I constantly think about, but it is difficult to know me for any meaningful length of time and not be aware that I have a developmentally disabled sister, as I mention her in passing, think about her when her favorite music comes up on Spotify, and tell people to donate to her favorite charity, Special Olympics. 

If I were writing an app of myself as a character and spent a good portion of the app untangling my relationship with my sister, and then never mentioned her in any of my thread posts, then is she really important to my character? Or was I flexing her for depth?

Do you see what I am getting at here? If it matters, it will come up more than once. If it only comes up once, and it’s in your app, you should think of something to explain your character’s personality and motivations that is perhas a little less loaded. 

BUT WITHOUT THE SADS, HOW DO?

The good news is: you absolutely do not need a tragic backstory to write a nuanced character! Again - think of your characters the way you think of yourself, or of other real people. While everyone has gone through heavy things in their lives from time to time, chances are that your life does not resemble that of a soap opera protagonist. And aren’t you a multifaceted person, full of depth and life? Aren’t you someone whose story is worth telling, even if it feels like your life is pretty ordinary? 

After all, it’s not the past that makes a character - it’s the present, their current voice, actions, and missteps. That is where you want the real juice to be, because that is the shit you’re writing! 

Some potential “everyday histories” for our above cast of characters:

“Why is Susie so clingy?”

In elementary and middle school, Susie was bullied on and off - a few weeks spent hanging out with the in-crowd, followed by a month as a social pariah. She could never understand why. When she moved to a different state for high school, she attached herself like a barnacle to the clique the Tulips, and has made it her goal not to let herself get shaken back to the outskirts this time. 

This isn’t as dramatic as Susie’s earlier backstory - in fact, it could apply to any number of people, being passed between friend groups for years on end. But again: your character doesn’t need a one-of-a-kind daytime talk show-worthy backstory to have a unique and compelling history and voice! 

“Why is Brent such a misogynist?”

Brent’s mother never wanted children, and made it pretty clear to him throughout his youth. His father, though, as always there for him - including when his mother walked out and never came back, after cheating on Mr. Brent’s Dad for years. From then on, Brent and his dad only had each other - and their bitterness towards the woman who wronged them.

This still gives you some family drama - unloving mother, and some adultery - but having Brent be raised by someone who has their own beef with women eliminates the shock value of locking your son out merely for being a boy. Also, this take acknowledges misogyny as a learned behavior.

“Why is Lichen such a high-achieving go-getter?”

When their parents divorced, Lichen only came out to their mother as nonbinary, and presents a fully different persona when they are with their father. Being in the top 5% of their high school class and being a national champion Lincoln-Douglas debater is the only thing Lichen and (deadname) have in common. 

I acknowledge that Lichen’s previous story was a meme. The above story could be made much more intense (for example, if Lichen’s father were a member of the Westboro Baptist Church and then Lichen’s supportive mother dies in a freak accident and Lichen, unable to hide their true identity, is imprisoned in their father’s basement until they pretend to have seen the error of their ways and identify as cis again) but the above gives plenty to chew on! 

While drama and trauma can be satisfying to write, there is plenty of drama to be found in the everyday. Building a well-rounded character is much less about what happened to them and much more about what they are doing, thinking, and feeling now. 

That said, 

TIPS & TRICKS FOR WRITING TRAGIQUE CHARACTERS

Don’t go overboard. If it is not going to come up ever again after the app: leave it out. 

Impact is about the character, not the reader. If it was important enough to leave in the app, it should have an identifiable impact on your character. The main purpose cannot have been to shock the reader. 

It’s not meaningful JUST because it happened. If someone can follow your character’s story for any extended amount of time and not realize that, say, your character’s mother died in a boating accident, then it isn’t actually important that your character’s mother died in a boating accident, and you should let her live. 

If ALL of your characters have a heavily dramatic backstory, ALL of your heavily dramatic backstories lose their meaning. Dramatic backstories are fun but they should not be a constant: they will begin to feel cheap and lazy. 

Your character does not need to dwell on their tragic backstory! While a character should acknowledge their history, a character does not need to realize that their backstory is meant to be tragic. For example, Sally might have been raised by her Aunt Agatha after her parents disappeared in a hot air balloon when she was a baby. Rather than being sad about her missing parents, Sally might think of them as total strangers and of Agatha as her sole parental figure - and her sadness might be for Agatha, who does miss Mr. and Ms. Pumpernickel. 

And that’s literally all she wrote! I hope you find this helpful when you’re writing your characters - tragic or otherwise - and developing their plotlines. The world is not made of trauma and fluff alone, friends. Go forth and contain multitudes!

[echoes-of-the-clockwork]

Book Three: Pestilence (Ignis x Reader) Chapter Twenty-Three

The following day, Noctis and Ignis sat at a table in the dining car. Their gazes were focused on the passing scenery. "Feels good to ride the rails," Ignis commented, shattering the silence between them.

"Sure does," Noctis replied, his eyes never leaving the beautiful scenery.

"Eager to drive once we're in Gralea?" The strategist inquired.

"If they'll let me."

"We're fortunate to have the Regalia at all. We owe the first secretary our thanks."

"She'd get more thanks if she gave us a discount."

"Those transceivers are top-notch. I recall when the Hydraean raged-In the midst of the empire's retreat, one conspicuous craft remained behind: the chancellor's. The last thing I remember seeing was his ship, heading for the altar. I fell unconscious...and was powerless to stop him," Ignis said.

"I'm just glad you're alive," Noctis spoke his true feelings. "And what happened (Y/n). I can't even imagine what it was like for her."

"Indeed," the tactician sighed sorrowfully. "I failed to protect you both."

"Are you really still talking like that?" The younger boy huffed. "I don't see why you're so hung up on it. I mean, we're both okay."

"Noctis is correct," (Y/n) said as she appeared out of thin air, standing at the end of the table. "There are moments where we are powerless and unable to protect those we cherish. What truly matters is Noctis and I are here with you, Ignis. The fault lies with the chancellor. He is a twisted man and is responsible for what transpired in Altissia."

"I cannot deny your words, (Y/n), for they hold truth," the tactician confessed.

"Let's rid ourselves of such a melancholic topic," she said. "How's your eyesight?"

A giant smile appeared on the bespectacled boy's face. "Blurry, but shapes and colors are prominent."

Noctis looked toward the Horseman. "That's good, right?"

"Very," she giggled. "Although, I am rather flabbergasted at how brisk the remedy is working. It's possible there's a small amount of energy left within your body from wielding the Ring which is aiding your body in healing."

"Does that mean Specs could regain his sight in a few days?" The raven-haired boy asked with a hopeful tone.

"If he's able to see shapes and colors by now with only two treatments, it's highly possible he'll regain his eyesight in a couple days." She turned her gaze back toward Ignis. She climbed into the seat beside him and placed a hand on his cheek, turning his face toward hers. A smile morphed on her face when she took off the visor and analyzed the scars marring his eyes. "The scars are also mending. You will most likely regain your eyesight before they vanish."

As Pestilence dropped her hand from Ignis' cheek, a cold sweat washed over her body as a familiar pain arose in her chest. Unconsciously, she fisted the fabric covering her chest as her breathing became shallow. With shaky arms, she pushed herself out of the booth. She didn't make it far before collapsing to her knees.

Noctis was the first to notice her state and went to her side. "H-Hey, what's wrong?"

"Noct, what is it?" Ignis asked when hearing the boy's worried tone.

"I don't know!" He shouted as he caught the girl before her entire body crumpled to the floor.

(Y/n) bit her bottom lip to keep herself from crying out in pain, but she was unable to hold the whimpers at bay. Ignis heard and carefully maneuvered out of the booth, using his hands to guide him. While his eyesight was returning, it was only mere shapes and colors at the moment. Fortunately, that was enough for him to reach his beloved's side. Carefully, he took her body out of Noctis' grasp and pulled her close. He held her gently as he asked, "What ails you, (Y/n)?"

She closed her eyes as she leaned against him. "A-Ardyn..."

Noctis' eyes narrowed at the mention of the chancellor's name. He clenched and unclenched his fist, tempted to slam it against the ground in anger. "The hell did he do to you, (Y/n)?"

"I-I know not of what he's accomplished, but King Aeshema has detected a dark entity residing within me. I fear it is the "gift" the chancellor mentioned."

Ignis remembered all too clearly what Ardyn spoke of on the day of the rite. While he was unable to see her current state, he imagined how much pain he inflicted upon her without laying a hand on her. "There must be a way to purge it from your body."

With shaky hands, (Y/n) conjured up the glass vial containing the healing remedy. She handed it to Noctis, who was perplexed as to why he was receiving such a thing. "Please, Noctis, take this. Could you be the one to administer the rest of the remedy?"

The raven-haired boy hesitantly took the vial. "Why does it sound like you're leaving?"

"I fear the worse is about to happen," she confessed. "If what Ardyn said is true, then I should be as far away from you and the others as possible."

"What nonsense do you speak of, (Y/n)?" Ignis hissed.

"This entity dwelling within me will soon flourish and I will no longer be in control of my own body." She broke free from Ignis' tender touch and forced her body away from his. With feeble legs, she pushed herself off the floor and set her sights on the adjoining car. She stared through the window on the door and her eyes widened in horror when spotting the man behind her tainted body.

Ardyn grinned at her before spinning on his heels and walking way. Pestilence dragged her legs forward, but she only made it a few steps before someone latched on to her wrist and stopped her from leaving. Before she could argue, she was spun around and pulled against a toned body. One arm snaked around her waist while fingers secured her chin and tilted it upward, forcing her (e/c) eyes to lock with emerald ones.

As (Y/n) was about to make a remark, Ignis slammed his lips against hers. Her eyes widened in shock at the ferocity behind the kiss and would have stumbled back if his other arm wasn't wrapped around her waist. She debated kissing back but feared if she did her conviction to leave would shatter. Placing her hands on his chest, she tried to push him away. Unfortunately, he didn't budge an inch. The kiss dragged on and the pain in her chest became bearable and soon extinguished.

When the needy and intoxicating kiss ended, Ignis' opened his scarred eyes. He kept ahold of her chin as his foggy eyes could make out her gleaming (e/c) ones. Though blurry, he knew exactly what his eyes were focused on. "The Astrals themselves will have to strike me down before I let what happened in Altissia repeat. I refuse to lose you again."

(Y/n), eyes still wide as saucers, scanned the advisor's face. His words made her heart thump wildly inside her chest, but she had to chase after Ardyn. "Ignis, I..." Her eyes darted toward Noctis before returning to the strategist. She grabbed the wrist of the hand holding her chin hostage and pried his fingers from her face. "I hope you'll forgive me." With those final words, she vanished into a cloud of smoke.

She reappeared in a random car, looking around for the chancellor as the pain from earlier returned. When spotting the man, she followed him. A few people aboard the train eyed her strangely as she hurriedly ran down the aisle and toward the connecting car. As the distance between her and Ardyn shrunk, the pain in her chest festered.

Entering the next car, (Y/n) summoned her staff and casted a shadow spell. Black tendrils barred the door located in the back, preventing the man from exiting the train car. The small group of people saw the appendages and quickly ran to the previous car in fear. Now it was only Pestilence and Ardyn.

The chancellor chuckled as he swiveled on his heels to face the girl. A wicked smile blossomed on his face as he removed his hat and politely bowed to the Horseman. "Ah, a pleasure to see you again, (Y/n). I presume I've the honor of using such an alluring name, correct?"

"I've no time for formalities or idle chitchat," Pestilence snapped. She held her staff in one hand while the other remained over her chest. She was still weak from the earlier pain and was having issues standing on her own feet when it returned tenfold. Fighting through it, she jabbed her staff in the chancellor's direction. "Your plans will fail, Ardyn."

Another menacing chuckle emitted from him as he took a single step toward her. "You sound quite certain, my dear. Although, my plans have already been set in motion. I'm afraid you're too late."

(Y/n) backed away from him as he slowly closed the distance between them. She was sweating bullets from the increasing pain, her legs shaking. She lowered her staff, using it as a crutch. She was unable to keep the tendrils alive as they disappeared in a black cloud of smoke. Her back collided with the door, gritting her teeth in agony.

Ardyn came to a sudden halt, covering his face with his hat. "You are the last remnant." He lowered his hat, revealing daemonic features. An eerie black substance oozed from his mouth and cloudy eyes, his skin a sickening pale hue. The black veins within his body were prominent against his pale complexion.

A gasp of horror came from the Horseman at the frightening sight. She tried to cast a spell, but his hand lunges out and wraps around her throat. The moment his hand began squeezing her throat, the pain in her chest reached an unbearable level. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs, but no sound came from her throat as it was constricted by Ardyn's hand. "Shall we depart, my dear?" He chortled, enjoying watching her writhe in pain as she tried to fight against him.

(Y/n) dropped her staff. It 'clacked' against the floor by the chancellor's feet. Even in her frail state, she tried to pry the man's hand from around her throat. Due to the pain in her chest and the lack of oxygen, her strength was greatly diminished. She tried to kick him, but she couldn't swing her legs hard enough to do some damage and force him to release her. Her vision slowly began fading to black and eventually, she lost consciousness.

<-----------<<<<<

Noctis, who remained in the dining car after Ignis left to search for (Y/n), stared out the window and admired the scenery as he sat back down at the booth. He tore his gaze away from the passing scenery and glanced down at the glass vial in his hand. He fiddled with it for a few minutes before placing it in his pocket.

After a while, Gladio visited the dining car and told him what he learned on his reconnaissance mission given to him by Ignis. Each passing day, the night grew longer. Sunlight was slowly vanishing from Eos and no one knew how long it would take for the darkness to consume the entire planet.

Once the brute left, Noctis was soon visited by Prompto as the train passed by a snowy mountain range shrouded in mist. They discussed the strange phenomenon for a few minutes before the raven-haired boy felt a chill down his spine. He looks around the dining car and suddenly realizes that no one else is moving. Everything is blanketed in gray and everyone is frozen in place. Seeing Prompto was missing, Noctis stood up. "What's going on?"

Noctis suddenly hears Ardyn's voice behind him. "It's a real mystery."

He promptly turns around to find the chancellor standing not too far away.

"I'm not liking that snow cloud. Kind of gives me the chills. Like, who comes up with this stuff? I couldn't dream something like this if I tried. It's a wondrous world," the man said.

Noctis glared at him as he growled, "The hell are you doing here?!" He springs forward to punch Ardyn in the face, but he dodges.

"Whoa, what's going on?! Easy there, buddy. Didn't see that coming. You alright?"

The raven-haired boy conjures a sword and swings it at the man, who steps back just out of range. "Shut up!" Noctis hissed.

"Be careful there! Wait-is this for real?" Ardyn questioned with a worried tone. He turns on his heels and begins to run away. Noctis pursues him into the cabin car. The chancellor runs into one of the cabins and shuts the door.

Noctis walks down the aisle toward the cabin and jerks the door open. "Show yourself!"

Suddenly, Ardyn leans over from behind Noctis. "Uh...Noct?"

Said boy swings around with his fist, hitting nothing but air. Once again, Ardyn has vanished. The young boy clicked his tongue in frustration. "That son of a bitch..." He runs to the next car, where he sees his target backing away.

"C'mon, Noct. You're scaring me! Seriously, man, cut it out!" Ardyn wailed in fear. He passes to the next car, where Noctis continues to pursue him. "It's not safe. Plus, you're causing a scene. Quit playing around, okay?"

Noctis catches up to the man and conjures a sword once again, which he immediately takes swing with, attempting to bisect him horizontally. "You think this is funny?!"

Ardyn ducks the blade, then quickly scrambles to his feet and runs toward the next car. "Dude, are you seriously trying to kill me?!"

Inside the next car, Noctis was distracted when his foot kicked something. Looking down, he saw a strange object. He kneeled down on one knee to get a better look at it. When he picked it up and analyzed it, his eyes widened once recognizing what the object was. It's (Y/n)'s staff. He pushed himself up, taking the weapon with him. His eyes trailed up and down the staff before looking back in the direction Ardyn vanished. Gripping the staff tightly, his knuckles turned white. He knew something had happened to the Horseman and who the culprit was. "Damn bastard... I'll make sure you pay!"

[lilywoood]

Small Bump 7/?

Hi guys I’m back, fully and definitely back, I’m trying right now to catch up on everything I left on hiatus so be ready for a lot of prompt and an ABO buddie coming soon, I want to thank you guys for your patience, your love and support through all of this, I know I was absent for a while, I know I wasn’t really active but I’m coming back more fueled and ready to battle, I also wanted to tell you that I’m probably going to reopen anon ask, I feel ready to do it and I know that I can always count on you if anything goes wrong ♥️ well enough of my ranting here is the awaited part 7 of Small Bump it’s longer than the previous part and I really hope that y’all going to like it !

Tag list : @diazbuckleysworld @felicitous-one @gxtop @cherishingstydia @translucent-bisexual @profangirl1999 @zola9612 @impossiblealice @sergeant-barnes-and-his-captain @meloingly @shipping-queen @my-name-i-we @reecedaddario @fyeahhipsterdoctor @evan-diaz-buckley @duckcollectorus @graciemma16 @snorlaxishere @fandomfullofgayness @zeethebooknerd @nilshki @adamngoodbuck @reenessie @hardychick89 @lovegiveortakefivethousandyears @peroquenotevean @lullez @chioink @silkevanloon @chrrlees @meisterdani @thegreatgherkin87

Word count : 2063

Song : All I Want -Kodaline

He was all alone once again, but this time Eddie departure didn’t hurt, it didn’t shatter his heart, didn’t make him feel empty and alone, no this time he knew that they both needed some time off from one another, they needed to think, to assimilate both of their betrayal, Eddie more than him it seemed.

He never saw him this way, so hurt, vulnerable and tired, Eddie never showed anything, always keeping his feelings for himself, always sucking it up as he’d been teach, it had been a first for the both of them, it was the first time Eddie allowed himself to be weak, to be open, to be honest with his feelings.

Everything was quiet, disturbingly, painfully and numbly quiet, as his gaze was fixed on the wall in front of him, as he toned out the comes and goes of the doctors and nurses, the buzzing noise of a busy hospital he let himself think, let himself remember how everything was simple before all this mess, let himself wonder if he made the right choice....

———————————————————-

He knew that day would have eventually came, knew that at some point he would have to tell Eddie the truth, knew that he wouldn’t be able to hide his secret still he hadn’t expected would turn this way with both Eddie and him heartbroken, and more distanced from one another.

It’s been six days now, six days since he was released from hospital, six days since Eddie learned the truth, six days since he broke down in front of Buck.

Eddie had been kind of M.I.A since that fateful day and neither the team nor Buck had tried to get in touch with him, all assuming he’d needed time to assimilate all that happened, to accept that life changing new, but after the fourth day without any words from him Buck started to worry, started to wonder if something happened to Eddie, if he had to be the one to break the heavy silence that settled between them.

———————————————————-

He’d been debating with himself all Friday night, deciding whether he should go to Eddie’s or not when Carla called him clearly distressed.

-Please he hasn’t left his room in two days, she shared sighing tiredly, Chris told me he’s been depressed lately and I thought that maybe you could talk with him, she added, see what’s wrong, she breathed, Chris miss his dad and he miss you too, she revealed.

-Tell Chris I’ll be there tomorrow, Buck declared.

———————————————————-

Saturday came faster than what Buck had anticipated, he felt his stomach tangle with stress and anticipation, he felt his hands becoming sweaty, his heart beating faster, even though he knew that the chance of Eddie opening his door were slim, he couldn’t help but dread this impromptu reunion.

He arrived at the Diaz household in less than ten minutes, he stayed in his car for five, trying to calm his nerves and beating heart, trying to convince himself that everything was going to be ok, he was going to spend the first half of the day with Chris and Carla and then if he was lucky and if Eddie was willing they would have a longue and overdue conversation.

As predicted Carla was the one to open the door telling him that Eddie had totally refused to go out of his room after she told him that he was visiting, he pretended to be sick but Christopher has told her that morning that his dad wasn’t in a good shape, that he saw a bruise on his left eye.

Buck felt his blood boil after Carla revealed this, he thanked her before going to join Chris in the living room, he smiled at him and felt some of his rage disappear when the little boy hugged him and started to tell him all about his week.

-I missed you so much, he confided still focused on his drawing, I think daddy missed you too, he observed.

-I missed you to buddy, Buck smiled purposely ignoring his last words.

-Daddy is always sad, Chris sighed, he thinks I don’t hear him cry at night, he pursued, sometimes he’ll say your name, he added finally looking up.

Buck felt his heart ache for Christopher, he felt guilty, felt as if he was responsible of the strain between father and son, he threw a glance to Carla who nodded in understanding.

-Christopher honey, she called lightly, how about we go buy lunch for everyone, she beamed.

-And dessert, he demanded grabbing his crutches.

Silence engulfed the house after Carla and Chris departure, a loud and heavy silence, one foretelling how their conversation would turn out.

Shaking his head, he tried to turn his attention back on Eddie’s bedroom door, he tried to focus, tried to force himself to stop thinking about how they both hurt the other, tried to force himself to stop remember that night, tried to convince himself that everything was going to be ok, that they were going to put everything behind and move on, as parents if not as a pair.

———————————————————-

Eddie didn’t know how to feel anymore, he was lost, confused, numb… It was as if something broke inside of him, no words could describe the state he was in after he learned the truth, no one could understand the impact of that night, hell he couldn’t understand it either, he never felt that way and it was both scary and disturbing…

He always believed that Shannon abandoning them was the most hurtful moment in his life, that nothing could top her giving up on both Chris and him, then she died and he felt like she was leaving them behind once more, he felt like he could never recover, felt like he was never going to be enough for anyone or anything not even his son, but then Buck saved the day like he always did, he stupidly made him believe that he had the right to be happy, that he was enough, he was needed and wanted, he gave and gave never asking for anything in return, and Eddie had felt guilty, he’d felt as if he let him down that night, he felt like somehow he’d betrayed Buck, because he didn’t left by choice, didn’t abandon Buck without saying anything because he wanted to but because he had to.

He never imagined that Buck would make him pay, never though that this kind and selfless person, his person, would take everything back in the cruelest way possible, but he did and Eddie didn’t know how to feel about it, sure he was aching but somehow he got it, he understood that Buck had been hurt too, had been afraid, he made Buck feel what he felt when Shannon left and he couldn’t forgive himself for it, couldn’t face Buck, he was too ashamed for that.

———————————————————-

He wanted time to stop just for a moment, he wanted everything to stop, to be quiet, calm and southing, he wanted the world to pause just for a minute, a single minute that will allow the quiet to let him think, let him reflect; let him draw on their link, allowing him to find the right words, allowing him to reassure his tired mind and broken heart that everything was going to be alright.

Buck was silently sited at the window when he got out his room, he was watching kids playing around with a soft and living smile, he didn’t turn when Eddie approached, didn’t make any move, he just tensed and snickered. Eddie stopped walking all together feeling as if he wasn’t wanted here, as if he disturbed Buck peace, as if he ruined things once more, he was ready to turn back and close himself in his room when Buck broke the silence.

-I wish you loved me enough to stay, Buck whispered still looking out the window.

-I love you enough to go, Eddie retorted approaching him hesitantly, I love you enough to want you safe, he added brokenly understanding the hidden message in Buck’s words, he found himself kneeling down in front of the younger man.

He could feel Eddie’s arms tightening around his body, could feel his tears wetting his shirt, could sense the sheer agony and sorrow the other man felt. It was destroying him, tearing him apart, poisoning his blood, still there was nothing he could do, he was still hurt, still wary, still resentful, his wounded soul was keeping him from reaching out to Eddie even though his heart was yearning for him.

-I wanted to stay, Eddie revealed raising up, I wanted to I swear, he croaked passing back and forth in front of him, hands messing with his hair.

-Then why didn’t you, what was so important that you had to leave in the middle of the night without so much as a note, Buck demanded drily, his arms crossed protectively.

-Lena, Eddie mumbled almost inaudibly turning his head in shame.

-Lena, Buck croaked taking a step back, Lena, he repeated in a chuckle, I see, he stated nodding his head.

-I know what you’re thinking, Eddie objected, but I swear it’s nothing like that, he tried.

-Right, Buck scoffed, nothing like that at all, he snarled, excuse me then for feeling like some cheap booty call, he mocked.

-Don’t be like that Evan, Eddie sighed tiredly, it wasn’t like that for me, he growled, it wasn’t just sex and you know it, he pointed.

-No I don’t, Buck retorted his voice raising a little, how could I know it wasn’t just sex when I woke up cold and alone, he snorted, how could I know, when they were no note, no text or call for three whole days, he counted , how could I know it wasn’t just sex when you had a massive breakdown days after it happened making me fake forgetting it so you’ll feel better, he frowned hands in the air, tell me Eddie how dumb me was supposed to know, he nodded toward the older man.

-You weren’t supposed to know, cause I wasn’t supposed to leave, Eddie roared back grabbing him, I didn’t want to leave but she made me do it, he panted, she forced me and I had no other choice, he gasped, I had to go to keep Chris and you safe, he avowed.

-Safe, Buck repeated, safe from what, he demanded grabbing Eddie’s left shoulder, Eddie, he called.

-She’s blackmailing me, he chuckled drily, letting himself fall on the couch, she lost her job because they found out she was in a fight club, he explained, they never found out about me because Bobby made sure of it, he sighed, I left that night because she threated to expose me, told me that if it was to be known I’ll probably lose custody of Chris, I’ll probably lose my job, he passed a hand through his messy hair, she knew about us, he breathed, and I was afraid that she would do something against you too so I left, he croaked.

-You’re fighting again, Buck stated nodding to Eddie’s black eye, and she’s taking the money, he added.

-Yeah, Eddie nodded, I didn’t say anything and didn’t leave a note cause I didn’t want you to worry or get involved in it, he frowned, I was ashamed and scare of retaliation, he breathed out heavily.

-We’re a team Eddie, Buck objected, I have your back and you have mine, and I get it, I get you were worried and afraid, he pursued, but I could have helped you, I could have gave you the support you needed, he added, we’re in this together, he affirmed pointing at themselves.

-I don’t think you can help me in this, Eddie chuckled, it’s a big mess, he heaved, if I talk I lose everything, if I keep quiet I lose everything too, it’s a lose-lose situation, he mused.

-She wants to play dirty, Buck challenged, then I know exactly the person who could take her down, he announced, I’m going to help you out of this mess, but you have to tell me everything no lies, no secrets, you have to be honest there Eddie because Chris needs his father, and I need you to, he added softly massaging his belly.

[paradisobound]

Follow You Home

Summary: Dan and Phil are neighbours who are there for each other whenever they need help. When Phil breaks his ankle, Dan helps him take care of his dog, and their friendship begins to grow to something more.

Word Count: 5.2k 

Warnings: None 

Written With @dayevsphil for the @phanfictionevents Collab Fic Event! 

A/N: we had a lot of fun writing this and we hope you'll like it too!

[Read on Ao3]

Dan is kind of an expert at procrastination. The deadline for this article is approaching at a steady, unrelenting pace, which means that it's the perfect time to clean out his refrigerator.

He's sitting on the cool tile in his pants and an old hoodie, sorting condiments by use-by dates, when his phone rings.

Most people don't bother to call him - it's easier to reach him by text or email, although he's also been known to ignore those until they go away - so he's a bit confused by the noise until it clicks in his mind. He digs in his hoodie pockets for his phone and if he grins at the caller ID, there's nobody here to see him except a very dubious bottle of mustard.

"Phil," he says, trying to sound casual and not like he jumps every time his neighbour calls.

"Hey, Dan," Phil's lovely, sweet voice comes through the line. He also sounds weirdly sheepish, which isn't unusual for him. "I've got kind of a weird favour to ask."

"Do you need a boost to your unlocked window again?" Dan asks. He's having a staring contest with the mustard, unsure if he should make any sudden movements to throw it out.

Phil laughs, and Dan feels a little smug about it. "No. Actually - okay. I did need that. But that was a few hours ago, and I thought I could get myself up there, and - anyway. I don't have as much upper body strength or coordination as I thought I did. Can you maybe, uh, walk Buffy for the next four to six weeks?"

"You know I love that dog," Dan says slowly. "But why? Did you fall off the building?"

"Yeah," says Phil. "And I broke my ankle."

Oof. Dan knows that Phil isn't exactly the most balanced guy in the world, but it still makes Dan wince to think about him getting himself hurt.

"Alright, I'll be over in like half an hour," Dan offers, decisively putting the mustard in his bin. "I'm sure she's buzzing by now, yeah?"

"Yeah," Phil laughs. He sounds relieved, like he thinks Dan would have said no to hanging out with a cute dog for money. "It'll feel weird because I'm, like, home, but I can't take her out myself."

Every time Dan has taken care of Buffy for short or extended periods, it's been because Phil is out of town. He vacations with his family a lot and travels for business every once in a while and Dan, well... works from home and could always use the extra income and the puppy cuddles.

Plus, it helps that Phil is one of the most attractive and funny people Dan has had the pleasure of meeting.

"Don't worry," Dan says. "I'm here to help."

“Oh thank you!” Phil exhales. “Actually, do you think you could take her for a walk right now? She’s a bit restless and I can’t…”

“Say no more! I’ll be right over.”

Dan hangs up, pressing end on his phone and washing his hands of whatever ended up being sticky on the outside of that mustard. He goes to brush his hands off on his legs when he suddenly remembers he's just in his pants.

Looking down at his legs, he figures that while he and Phil could be considered close or even bros, that didn’t mean that they were on the same page about Dan showing up to Phil’s in just his pants. Of course, a secret part of Dan wouldn’t necessarily be opposed to that scenario, but that’s something that’s stored deep inside Dan’s brain for another day.

He grabs the first pair of joggers that he sees on his floor and pulls them on and adjusts the waistband. He hesitates for a moment, debating if he should change his hoodie but then decides that it’s just a hoodie and it’ll be fine.

He grabs his phone from the kitchen counter and his keys from the stand next to the door and heads out down the hall.

Phil’s second-floor flat is right down the hall from Dan’s, which makes it convenient in most cases when they both needed help with the whole climbing through unlocked windows thing. But it also is nice when Phil went away because it means Dan doesn't technically have to leave to go and dog-sit Buffy.

He knocks on the door and then cringes to himself with the fact that Phil probably hasn’t learnt how to navigate yet with his broken ankle and—

The door opens and Dan tries to hide the blush that creeps over his face every time he comes face to face with beautiful blue eyes and stark black hair. Except that black hair is looking a little brown and Dan feels his cheeks heat up even more because how could a man already so attractive become even more attractive? Is that even possible?

His thoughts are interrupted by the bounding of chestnut fur leaping towards the door. Buffy is a big dog—well, she's a labradoodle—but she is very energetic and more than friendly. She's the sweetest puppy Dan’s ever met.

Phil’s leaning on a set of crutches and Dan sees the complete relief on Phil’s face now that they’ve both comprehended the situation.

“Buffy didn’t like being stuck here while I was at A&E so she’s very eager to go out for a walk,” Phil says, hobbling back from the door to make his way over to grab her lead.

Dan just watches and bends down, giving Buffy a few quick rubs before he decides he should help Phil with that. He stands back up straight and helps Phil detangle her lead and then he takes it back to the prancing pupper and hooks her on.

“I can take her to the park for a bit to let her run around?” Dan asks, already being dragged a bit by the over-energetic dog.

Phil nods. “That would be great!”

Dan’s turning back to lead Buffy down the hall when Phil speaks up again. “Hey, Dan?”

Dan turns around and looks back at him. “Yeah?”

“I really appreciate this, you know? I really don’t know what I would have done if I didn’t know you.”

Something resonates deep inside Dan and he struggles to keep back the giddy feelings in his chest as he just smiles and Phil smiles back, shutting the door.

Buffy is extremely eager to go for a walk. Dan isn't exactly a small person, and he still feels like he's being yanked down the stairs by a small horse. He laughs and half-jogs after her once they reach the pavement. He gets out of breath quickly and has to keep pulling her for frequent stops, but she doesn't seem to mind now that they've got some forward momentum.

The dog park isn't very busy at this time of day, when the majority of people are at work and their dogs are at home waiting for them to come home, so Dan lets Buffy off her leash and chases her around to try and get the zoomies out of her.

Buffy is a big girl with a ton of energy, and Dan has to lie down in the grass to catch his breath more than once. She thinks this is all a part of the game every time and licks all over his face until he's giggling and getting back up.

Sometimes Dan thinks about getting a dog, because his flat gets kind of lonely sometimes and the routine of going outside and actually getting exercise can only be good for him, but then again, he's already got Buffy. A small, secret part of Dan has domestic fantasies locked away in the back of his mind, where he gets to hang out with Buffy all day while her dad's at work. The sheer idea of Phil coming home to them every night and beaming at them like they're the best things to ever happen to him is honestly more salacious than Dan's filthiest fantasies.

Eventually, Dan's lungs and legs are protesting far too much for him to keep tiring Buffy out. He takes her back to their building, both of them panting the whole way.

Dan hesitates in front of Phil's door. He doesn't want to make Phil hobble over again, but it feels weird to just let himself in as well… Dan could overthink this for a long time if left to his own devices, just standing in the hallway like a weirdo, but Buffy is having none of that.

She whines and scratches at the door, and Dan makes the decision to just open it for her. She bounds inside when he lets her off the lead and he pauses again before following her inside.

"We're back," he calls through the flat. He hangs Buffy's lead up on the coat rack and toes off his shoes. "I'm just gonna get her a treat, alright?"

"Er, yeah, of course," Phil's voice comes from the direction of the kitchen, and Dan starts moving towards it like he's been magnetized. When he gets there, he's startled into a laugh. Phil is leaning against the counter, a crutch under one arm and a mug in his free hand. He looks alarmed as he watches Buffy go to her water bowl, like he's afraid she's gonna jump on him.

"She should be too tired to tackle you, at least for a little bit," Dan laughs. He grabs a couple of treats from the top of the fridge and makes Buffy sit and shake paw for them. "Good girl," he coos, scratching behind her ears.

"The best," Phil says, looking relieved when Buffy settles for licking the hand on his crutch and going to lie down.

"Mind if I also get a water?" Dan asks, feeling equal parts awkward and giddy. He never really comes back to Phil being here when he dogsits, so this is different.

Phil smiles and shakes his head. "Make yourself at home. I have to get dinner on the go, soon, but…" He trails off, gesturing with his half-empty mug at the cast on his foot. "It was annoying enough to make coffee. I've got no idea how to do any of this without, like, falling over or breaking something."

"You could order in," Dan suggests, and then laughs at the state of Phil's fridge. "And you might need to, mate, you've got nothing here."

"I know," Phil says. He grimaces a bit. "Not looking forward to grocery shopping."

"Well, why don't you leave me a list," says Dan, "and I'll pick up some stuff for you when I go tomorrow?"

The way Phil's face lights up with a sort of sheepish gratitude warms Dan to his core.

"That'd be really nice of you," Phil says, sounding so sincere about it that Dan is tempted to crack a joke and break the moment. Phil sets his mug down and starts patting around his pockets for his phone before he can. "What do you like on your pizza? You should stay."

Dan definitely wants that. He wants to sit on Phil's sofa and eat Domino's and watch a series that's new to both of them so that maybe he has another excuse to keep coming around. Dan is maybe a little pathetic over this guy.

Unfortunately, Dan is also very aware that he's sweaty and a little dirty from rolling around in the grass with Buffy.

"I like pretty much anything," says Dan, setting his water bottle on the counter. "Lots of different dips, please. I'm gonna go take a shower while you order if that's cool, I'm fucking rank from the park."

"Oh, yeah, sure," Phil grins. Then his expression turns mournful as he looks down at himself again. "That's… another thing I'm not sure how to accomplish."

Dan mumbles something that might be English words and hightails it out of the flat before he does something very stupid, like offer to help Phil with that, too. It's not until he's standing on the other side of his own door that he realises he left his shoes in Phil's entryway.

--

Dan feels too awkward to go and get his shoes from Phil’s flat so it takes him a little over a day before he does. And even then, it’s because Phil texted him about taking Buffy on another run—Dan doesn’t call it a walk anymore because Buffy literally makes him run.

So, Dan does what any awkward person would do when they left their only gym shoes at their neighbors flat and they need them. He walks barefoot to said flat and waits with his socks stepped onto a seemingly wet front entry mat.

Dan knocks on the door and after just a moment, Phil opens it open with same big smile on his face and an excited Buffy on his heels.

“You left your—”

“I left my—”

Phil lets out a chuckle and it briefly cools the heat that is definitely seeping up Dan’s cheeks now as they both attempted to say the same thing. God, this made him want to actually crawl into a hole in the floor.

“You left your shoes here,” Phil says still chuckling. “Buffy found the left one and thought it would be fun to drag it around by the shoestring.”

Dan winced and forced out a laugh. “Yeah, sorry about that. I don’t know why I walked out and didn’t even notice I wasn’t wearing any shoes.”

“Well you’re also not wearing any right now so maybe your subconscious is telling you something.”

Dan let out a proper laugh this time as he pointed a finger at Phil. “Listen, I…”

He’s stopped by the sound of other voices coming down the hallway and he suddenly feels weird standing outside of Phil’s door in a pair of joggers and a jumper with no shoes.

Phil moves out the way, as best as he can anyway with Buffy right behind him and his crutches making it difficult. Dan shuts the door behind them and notices his shoes sitting perfectly paired next to Phil’s own and his heart does a slight flip as he realizes that he actually kind of likes the way that that looks.

He picks up his shoes and slips them on as Phil is struggling to get the lead clipped on Buffy’s collar. Dan reaches out to help when he manages to get it hooked and Buffy is now running to the door.

“Guess this is my cue.” Dan laughs and Phil nods.

“I know I’ve already said this but thank you again, Dan! It does mean a lot!”

Dan smiles and looks down at his shoes just happens to notice the small signs of a bite mark on his left shoelace.

—

Two weeks pass with this new system in place while Phil is healing. Dan still comes over to Phil’s every day and he still takes Buffy out on a walk. Her energy was still the same and every day, Dan walked back slightly dirty with a layer of sweat.

Phil said that in two more weeks, the doctor told him he would be able to start wearing a boot on his foot and he seemed extremely glad for that from what Dan can tell.

Phil didn’t look like he was exactly happy being cooped up so much and the past few days, Buffy has even taken up to whimpering and pushing her head into Phil’s hip to get him out the door. But Phil’s lack of mobility makes it not possible for Phil to even walk a bit of the way to the park because his crutches leave him so exhausted.

Dan feels bad. And he wishes he had more that he could do to help.

He knows that Phil is an introvert, like himself, so he’s surprised by how many times Phil tries to get him to stay and hang out. Dan only caves a couple of times, because he hates being around Phil when he’s gross from the run, but Phil seems to be getting more and more desperate for someone to just sit and watch Bake Off with him while he can’t work. Dan makes up excuses most of the time, but it’s getting as hard to say no to Phil as it is to say no to Buffy.

“Dan,” Phil says when Dan and Buffy come back from their morning walk. “Hey, what are you doing today?”

“I have an article to write,” Dan says automatically. He holds up his laptop bag as evidence.

Phil’s face falls, even with Buffy licking his hand, and he nods. “Oh, okay. Sure. Just… if you wanted to, you could work here. It kind of sucks to only have Buffy to talk to all day, you know?”

Well, great. Now Dan feels even worse.

“Alright,” Dan says, following Buffy into the narrow entryway of Phil’s flat. They’re all standing very close together for a long moment, and then Buffy barks at both of them and runs off to the kitchen to wait for her treat.

“Sorry, I know you’re busy with work,” Phil says, sheepish. He looks like he’d be scratching the back of his neck if he didn’t need both hands to balance his crutches.

Dan is really, really not busy, but he’s been telling Phil that he is for two weeks now, so… he nods and pulls an exaggerated face. “A little, but I really don’t mind hanging out with Buffy.” Phil still looks vaguely sad, and that just shouldn’t be allowed. He’s way too handsome for that, all Dan ever wants to see him do is smile. He adds, “And I like hanging with you, too.”

Phil’s whole face brightens up, and Dan knows he’s made the right call.

And then that is part of their routine as well, Dan hanging out in Phil’s flat for a few hours every day. It's nice, because it's all that Dan ever wants to be doing, but it's also nerve-wracking - how is he supposed to keep hiding his stupid crush like this?

It's a good thing Phil is so oblivious.

But at the same time, it’s not. Because Dan can be a bit of a wuss when it comes to letting his feelings out. It’s how it took him nearly three months of pining to eventually to ask his prior ex for their number.

They work together in silence inside Phil’s flat. Phil is busy doing his own work on his laptop while Dan is on his own on the couch adjacent to Phil. Buffy is off in the corner of the living room on her bed taking a nap, snoring away with her legs twitching every so often. It makes Dan smile when he watches her for a bit.

“See something good on your computer?”

Dan snaps out of his trance and turns his head to Phil who is staring at him with a smile.

Dan shakes his head. “No, I was just watching Buffy sleep.”

Dan realizes how creepy that is after the world leave his mouth and he worries that they came off as weird. So he waits on baited breath as Phil lets out a sigh and turns his head towards the sleeping pup. “When I first got her, she slept in bed with me and it made me feel calm.”

Dan bit his lip, warm feelings coursing through his veins.

“I liked having a warm body to sleep next to,” Phil continued. “I don’t know, she just made me feel really safe. And it felt really nice to not be alone for once.”

“I’m sorry.”

Phil shrugs and lets out a smirk. “Don’t worry about it.” Phil says. “It’s definitely a me thing and I shouldn’t be involving you in my problems.”

Dan quickly shakes his head. “No, it’s nothing like that at all.” He pauses. “I really like hanging out with you, Phil. And I’m not just saying this because you have a cute dog.” Phil lets out a laugh and Dan snorts too. “But you were one of the first people I met when I moved here.”

“You were too.” Phil says. “I had just moved here from Manchester and I didn’t know a single person around here. And just to think that we got to know each other over the balcony incident of 2016.”

Dan lets out a loud laugh as he remembers how he came back from the store one day to see Phil attempting to get into his flat via the balcony. Dan had never laughed so hard in his life as he helped Phil out to get back inside. It was also during this time that Dan had seen just how attractive Phil really was.

“Dan?” Phil interrupts Dan’s thoughts and Dan turns his head.

“Yeah?”

“When I get my boot on in a week, can I--” Dan’s heart starts racing and Dan waits as Phil hesitates before finally saying, “Can I take you out to dinner?”

Dan feels his cheeks heat up and blush creep over his skin as he nods and smiles in agreement.

--

Phil gets his boot just a week later to wear for the next few weeks while his ankle finishes healing. Dan had asked him about his mobility level with it and Phil had assured that the doctor told him that he could take short walks but not over do it.

Dan had taken to going over to Phil’s every day to just sit and talk with him and play with Buffy. They haven't mentioned the ‘dinner’ since Phil had asked him but Dan still holds onto the hope that Phil meant it.

Dan wants nothing more than to be able to finally go on a date with Phil. At least, he hopes that's what Phil meant, because if he just wanted to take Dan to dinner as a thank-you then Dan is going to fling himself off the nearest bridge.

It's a few days after Phil gets the boot on that Dan receives a text. He's lying in bed and grinning at his ceiling because Phil wants to know if he's free tonight. Dan is always free when it's Phil asking, if he's honest.

Getting ready for the day is difficult. Dan changes his mind on an outfit roughly a dozen times, because Phil has only ever really seen him in his comfy 'house' and 'walking' clothes, and Dan's got a whole closet full of too-expensive things he rarely wears. He tries some of it on before he gets lazy and just holds things up against his body to the mirror. He plays the coin toss of washing his hair, hoping that when it dries and has product in it won't look like a frizzy mess.

The last time Dan went on a date was before he moved to London, so he's a little bit rusty with it all.

Dan leaves it until the last possible minute to get dressed after getting lost in a Reddit cave, and he ends up just grabbing from the stuff he'd laid out before at random. The wide neck on this jumper used to bother him, but he thinks it looks nice now. His ripped jeans feel tighter than usual around his legs, but he doesn't know if that's because they shrunk in the wash last time or because running around after a dog twice a day is actually good exercise. Maybe they'll be more difficult to take off later, but he likes the visual effect of it.

He manages to shove his clown feet into some sneakers just as someone knocks on his door. He does one last once-over in the mirror before taking a couple deep breaths and going to answer it.

"Hey," Dan breathes, feeling his mouth stretch into a wide grin.

Any worry that this isn't a date is swept away, because Phil looks really good. He's got his shirt buttoned up all the way and his brown hair has actual product in it for the first time in weeks.

Phil beams right back at Dan. "Hi!" he chirps. Dan feels gratified by the way his gorgeous eyes look Dan's outfit over. "You ready?"

"As I'll ever be," says Dan. He steps out into the hallway, a thrill going through his whole body when Phil doesn't take a step back to let him lock the door. They aren't touching, but Dan can feel Phil's body heat like they're about to be, and he's sure that he's blushing like an idiot when he turns back around.

Phil's smile widens, but he doesn't draw attention to whatever's going on on Dan's face. "Let's go," he says, "I got us an Uber and I'm still getting used to this boot."

--

There are a couple of awkward moments with the boot, like getting in and out of the car, because Phil is a naturally clumsy person and the depth perception with his own limbs isn't great either. Dan is there to help him, though, steadying Phil with a hand to his arm and feeling his stomach flutter whenever Phil smiles at him.

"You've got, like, three left feet," Dan giggles, holding Phil's elbow to guide him through the restaurant. The hostess is being accommodating now, but if Phil keeps knocking into other people's chairs, Dan is sure her attitude will change.

"Guess I'll just need to keep holding on to you, then," Phil grins, a little sheepish.

Dan blushes and steadies him the best that he can before they get to the booth and he helps Phil sit down. In hindsight, Dan feels like he should have asked the hostess to get them a table. But Phil is sitting quite comfortably in the booth with no apparent mind towards his own leg sticking out to the side a bit so Dan doesn’t bother her anymore.

The waitress makes her way over and offers them each some wine and they both take a glass of it before she asks if they wanted any water as well.

It’s awkward, and Dan’s not even going to try and say otherwise. Their feet are hitting each other under the table and Phil just tried to put his napkin on his lap but has now thrown it on the floor. Dan tries so hard to keep his composure, but as he sees Phil attempt to bend down and reach for it without totally jarring his foot up and kicking the table was actually a bit funny. So he stifles a laugh.

“Do you know what you’re going to get?” Phil speaks up now that he’s managed to grab the cloth napkin again and fold it over his lap.

Dan is still looking down at the menu and he bites his lip in concentration as he tries to decide what to get. “I’m not sure.”

“You can get whatever you want,” Phil said. “I’ll pay.”

Oh, this was a proper date then.

Dan set down the menu and he looked at Phil who was staring at him with a blush and a smile. “You don’t have to do that.”

Phil just shook his head, clearly not taking no for an answer.

The waitress came over and Dan ended up ordering a prawn spaghetti dish while Phil got a specialty pizza that Dan didn’t catch the name of. As they sipped on their wine and waited for the order, Dan found himself looking at Phil.

Phil was just so attractive and the fact that Dan was actually on a date with him was making his heart swell a bit. He found himself feeling floaty, his chest feeling hot but his stomach feeling fluttery. He loved it. It reminded him of when he had crushes as a teenager, except now he freely expresses them.

“I want to thank you again for helping me with Buffy.”

Dan rolls his eyes. “You’ve already thanked me enough, Phil.” He says with a playful tone. “You don’t have to keep thanking me for something that I genuinely enjoyed.”

“I know she can be a handful but she keeps me company,” Phil says. “She keeps me on my toes.”

“Not right now she doesn’t.” Dan jokes.

Phil’s eyes crinkle as he lets out a laugh and his tongue does the little thing that Dan has noticed it does when Phil is genuinely laughing, which is poking out of his teeth.

They continue having mindless conversations about Buffy and work and life in general. They don’t get too deep or too personal.

When their food comes, they barely speak as their starving stomachs protest more than their mouths and they both hungrily consume their food. When they’re both done, Phil asks for the tab and then he pays without Dan getting a single say in the matter, and then they get ready to leave.

Walking back out of the restaurant isn’t nearly as hard as walking in and they get outside to an Uber already waiting for them. Dan helps Phil get inside again and they sit next to each other the entire ride back to their flats. But this time, Phil’s hand makes it way over the seat and touches Dan’s with the lightest of touches and Dan turns over his palm and lets Phil put their hands together.

It’s such a small thing in the grand scheme of things, but Dan feels genuinely happy and content in that moment.

They take the lift up to their flats and as they stop outside of Phil’s, their hands still connected, Dan feels a bit of sadness crest in his chest as he realizes he was going to have to say goodbye to him for the night.

He knows it shouldn’t be this hard. They live nearly across the hall from each other. But for some reason, that short distance feels like oceans tonight and it’s weighing heavy on Dan’s chest.

Dan goes to say goodbye and dislodge their hands from each other, but as he goes to do so, Phil leans in and presses a kiss to his cheek. It’s nothing big, but it’s enough for Dan to feel himself blush. Phil pulls back after the quick peck and just smiles.

“I’d love to do this again sometime if you’d like?”

Dan quickly nods. “Me too. I really would too.”

They part ways and Dan walks back to his flat with his shoulders a bit slumped and his chest a bit heavy. But his cheek still feels the tingle of Phil’s kiss and when he shuts the door to his flat, he reaches up and feels the space that Phil had pressed his lips to.

He gets out of his clothes and into a pair of joggers and an old uni hoodie and is laying down on his couch when his phone buzzes and he looks down at the screen and sees a message from Phil.

Buffy misses you :( maybe we can have a sleepover?

Dan doesn’t need to be told twice as he rushes out the door of his flat with his toothbrush in hand and is greeted by Buffy and Phil in the doorway. And as he steps inside, he knows for a fact that this time is different than any other time he’s come over before.

[firemama]

Extremely long rant about SU Future, ft the diamonds and the symbolism they feature

the thing about su diamonds was always their representation. and we call that quickly with yellow and blue- respectively, body/physical health and emotion/emotional health. further proven, when helping gems heal, yellow diamond could help a gem find a body they liked and were comfortable with, or fix broken things in a physical form, while blue diamond helping others was just to make them happy, or to make others grieve sadness when everyone around her often ignored their sadness.

the other two diamonds were more abstract through the series, and it was relatively hard to name them, but i think i've finally grasped the base concept in one-word answers, and the health factors they represent:

white diamond was very hard to give a word until after i had watched future. for a while the only name i could give her concept was The Ego. Now, i've come to a more final conclusion: Identity/Personality health. specifically, in the aspect of the personality, id day ID health. its a much more difficult concept to format ID health into an explanation, so lets start with Identity- something we can all agree White Diamond had an unhealthy view of.

Like yellow having an obsessive need for physical and performance perfection in every gem including herself, and blues unhealthy obsession with her emotions to the point of ignoring other's emotions in favor of her own grief, sadness, or happiness. White followed suit with her example of extremely unhealthy Identity issues for herself and others; White Diamond was incapable of recognizing identity at all. She saw herself not as a Diamond but as light itself, therefore everything, everywhere, and as NOT a person. she saw all gems- creatures of projected light- therefor as herself. she was incapable of acknowledging individuality or identity.

she improves in future by facing her unhealthy views, like the other diamonds, by reversing her powers. yellow abandons her own opinions on what is a perfect body in favor of helping gems achieve bodies they want- her crutch is that Yellow is still making gems better, more correct, such as removing deformities from corruption- but she is improving by subjecting changes to approval and desires of her patients. blue abandons her need to make others face their emotions, her emotions, head on and forceful as she one did (quite litterally); she uses her powers now to make people feel happy, feel better, because when you feel less miserable your more likely to make better choices to improve yourself and your situation, much like medication- her crutch, however, is that she is still MAKING gems feel something to try and help- but she is improving, by acknowledging that making others feel miserable is wrong, and by taking the time to listen to how others are feeling and then attempt to make them happy, rather than ignore others feelings as she often did before in favor of wallowing in her own grief.

White abandons her unhealthy views of identity in the most opposite way her powers will allow. rather than make herself everything, and that everyone is just an inferior piece of herself- she lets them be everything. to do this she must acknowledge each person she connects with as an individual- as not her. she acknowledges everything they are in order to do this, and takes in every imperfection as it is, and allows it to enter herself. the crutch here is that white has not changed HER OWN identity. white diamond's taken upon herself the identities of others, to understand them, to help people "be heard," and to acknowledge their identities. she does this by erasing herself, as she has not yet come to find her identity. this is where ID Health comes into play and can be a little more complicated. the 3 facets of personality can be denoted by Superego (or morality), Ego (external personality, or the face you show the world and acknowledge yourself), and ID.

ID is most easily described as Instinct, but the reality of it is still more complicated than Instinct. it is everything subconscious, everything inherent to an animal, everything inherited from your ancestors, it is the compressed concept of function. there isn't right and wrong in ID- that is Superego. There isnt debate or awareness, thats Ego. ID is essentially invisible information, "bottom of the iceberg" of the personality. White diamond has essentially ignored and set aside all ID, shut away and suppressed it, in an effort to maintain "Perfection." her ID, her innate needs, innate emotional connections, innate acknowledgment of her own body and mind, have been ignored and put aside for Superego- morality, laws of an empire, what is right and wrong with the universe- and Ego- her display of Perfection and her Entitlement and Superiority. ID health is very difficult to care for, and can be a major factor in personality disorders. White diamond is the culmination of Identity Issues and an unhealthy ID, but like her fellow diamonds, while she has work to do on herself, theyre making improvements. and theyve started with how they affect others foremost- which is good, especially since theyre are authoritative figures who have hurt many already. 

pink diamond was the Mind/Mental health, which seems obvious in hindsight, but her powers were of a wide variety, which leaked into other places- like real physical healing, with her tears. this is a good metaphor for how mental health has its fingers in everything. It is affected by emotion and can cause extreme or minute fluctuations in a person's emotions without external stimulus; it is effected by body chemistry and can have detrimental effects on ones health and ability; it is effected my acknowledgment from others in the Ego, it is effected by morals and judgments from the self in the Superego, and changes the weight of the ID on the personality.

pink diamond often had extreme problems with her mental health- irrationality, emotional instability, frequent rejections of herself that eventually lead to new identities, which only made such problems exacerbated by immersing herself in further strain and responsibilities she took upon herself- such as trying to "fix" her dysfunctional family. like the diamonds, pink had a need for perfection, and like the diamonds, this was both for herself and for others. when she failed to be perfect, she took extreme hits to her mental health. when her immediate family and primary interactions, the diamonds, acted with poor emotional health responses, she tried to fix them herself, with her own hands- her powers didn't always necessitate this as easily as the fellow diamonds, so her tactics were to entertain them to get them together, to throw balls to ease tension, to make jokes and to sing and to get angry when she was ignored, because you c a n t ignore your mental health or it will scream at you to pay attention to it. Herr powers did allow her to connect to other minds, things we see in steven- to enter others dreams and share his own, to travel mentally to where others are, to speak with them directly into the mind. but both pink and steven struggled to handle these powers ; possibly because mentally, they were not healthy enough to grasp them, and mental health can ruin every aspect when not cared for- if mental health can damage the body, the personality, the mind, the emotions- then surely it can disrupt magic powers.

i think that pink made her change, just like her fellow diamonds did, as rose quartz. while the diamonds did full immediate 180s and turned their powers in reverse, pink diamonds change took time. at first even her rebellion was a desire for herself, to save only earth and to be not a diamond- yet another new identity, another attempt to run as she often did from other problems. and i think her change started just after Garnet appeared, when the rebellion stopped being (only) about earth, but also about Gems. rather than kick every gem off earth, it became free gems who wanted to be freed. it became not fixing her colony, not maintaining perfection or her secrets once earth was free. to be the true opponent of mental health, you need change, and you need growth, and you need support. pink diamond never found and of these things, but rose quartz did. rose quartz made her 180 with the support of the rebellion and the rebels and the crystal gems, made the hard change to finally abandon trying to be perfect like a diamond, and eventually started to grow on earth when the war and the turmoil was over.

her crutch, though, was that she never did stop running. she lived a lie, faked her death and blamed everything on her old self who she detached from, and never faced this music, and instead left everything to be dealt with without her. in the end pink diamonds crutch was to run and to abandon her problems, even while she improved, but because she lived a lie and never shared amd faced her biggest secret, she stopped growing. these traumas were inherited to Steven in turn- he was given remnants of her old life as pink diamond, memories of her anger and haunting nightmares of a neglectful home and eroding mental health that she never was able to acknowledge, because she abandoned them and never faced them again. while rose made improvements, using her powers to try to help others take care of their mental health and to grow, her crutch just like white diamond's is that she did not approach her own. 

so to summarize a very long post:

Yellow Diamond: The Body, Physical Health

Blue Diamond: The Emotions, Emotional Health

White Diamond: The Identity, Personality Health

Pink Diamond: The Mind, Mental Health