#and it either turns into an internal crash of self hatred

[foolishnpd]

I perceive that I'm getting ignored (I'm not really) and I want to scream and kill everyone about it

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Is Nate ever jealous that Danny had someone looking for him, and that people knew he was missing (filed missing person reports, news coverage, etc). Cause from what I remember he didn’t really have anything like that for himself either time he went missing…

Well, yes and no.

By the time Nate goes missing, his entire family is gone (his parents died when he was eight years old in a car crash and his maternal grandparents raised him after that, he had no other living family, his grandparents die before he goes to grad school). The only person who might have really spearheaded a push to find him was his roommate, who Bram and Ashley murdered as part of taking Nate captive.

However.

He did have friends with the faculty at the college he had recently been hired at. People DID report him missing, and there was an investigation. It's essentially lowkey canon that Nate has been the focus of more than a few true crime reddit posts and is mentioned in a few documentaries and books on missing people.

But, to answer your actual question.

He does feel some jealousy over Danny having Ryan, who looked so hard for him and never gave up. THat jealousy informs why he is so prickly and unpleasant with Ryan at first - that unkindness goes both ways, they're both rude to each other.

But he is also very aware of his own wounds being far more internal, while Danny was utterly shattered inside and out, reformed, remade. And he hates himself for his jealousy, when it rises.

Nate's depression is partially a lot of self-hatred and anger turned inward at himself.

[amelialincoln]

The Way Life Goes (2)

She thic and she important. Feel free to leave part 3 prompts or theories in my ask box. As always, enjoy...

TW: substance abuse

“Have you seen Amelia?” Was the first thing the general surgeon asked Link at the beginning of the work week on Monday. Link shrugged, pushing his overgrown shaggy hair out of his face and tugging his Ipad aggressively out of the charger.

“Nope.” He popped the ‘p’. Meredith eyed him in a way that made him uncomfortable enough to continue. “Scout and I have been crashing at Jo’s since Friday. I’d assume she’s at my apartment.” He didn’t get very far before Meredith stepped in front of him.

“Look, as irritating as it is, the minute shit is going down in her life she’s at my house in seconds. She didn’t come to the after party and hasn’t shown up for her shift yet today. I really doubt she’s just hanging out in your apartment.” She crossed her arms, looking somewhat terrifying, despite the fact that he loomed over her.

“I can't talk right now, I have surgery.” He replied, pushing back any fears of where she might be and focusing on the chart in front of him.

“She rejects your proposal and now you’re just done? What happened to you guys?” Link’s jaw tightened so hard you could hear the sound of his teeth clashing.

“She doesn’t want to be with me. It’s as simple as that.”

“I don’t think she doesn’t want to be with you. She just obviously isn’t ready to get married. And I think you knew that.”

“Whatever, Meredith.” Link’s throat was tight as he pushed past her, swallowing down his guilt.

She had somehow found herself to Link's apartment in a daze, praying he wasn’t there as she pushed through the door. He wasn’t. She grabbed some clean clothes and more cash before leaving once again.

It was somewhat exhilarating, living on the edge. Chasing high after high and making sure that the timing is perfect to prevent any meaningful thoughts from actually surfacing. So far she'd been excelling at it. However, it was when she was halfway back that she realized she had fucked up. Anger and self hatred hit her like a ton of bricks and she almost staggered back. The high had worn off and her mind had started to scream. You are so weak. Back here again after you promised the last time was the end. So many promises, she thought. So many empty promises that she’d broken time and time again. The promise that she’d made to be a good mother. Failed, again. Why should she even attempt to pick up the broken pieces after she found herself back to square one each time? Why not stop trying to fix it and just accept herself for who she truly is, an addict? Why keep disappointing the people that care about her over and over? There was no point. Not anymore. Scout’s name was blaring in her mind like an alarm. He’s better out without you. She convinced herself. Don’t let yourself ruin him. You destroy everything you touch.

“Amelia.” Camilla was looking at her weird. She tried to focus on her new friend, attempting to calm her shaking hands. “Wait too long?” She asked, digging into her bag. All Amelia could do was nod and pull out the cash. “This one’s on me.” Camilla placed a reassuring hand on Amelia’s shoulder as she rolled up her sleeve. She paused, with bated breath, until the image of Scout faded from her mind.

“Can you hear me?” Meredith practically yelled into the crackling phone. “I’m sorry, I know this is your honeymoon. I just still haven’t heard from her and you know her better than me so I need you to tell me what I should do.”

“Is this about Amelia?” Maggie’s groggy voice asked into the speakerphone. “You still haven’t heard from her?”

“I wouldn’t have called if I hadn't. I’m worried about her.” She could practically hear Maggie’s hesitation. “Don’t come back. Don’t even offer that.”

“She’s been having a rough time,” Maggie sighed. “Richard doesn’t let on too much but I know COVID has been hard on her. Link has good intentions. He just hasn’t ever had to see her at her lowest.”

“You think she’s using?” Meredith’s voice was hushed as she passed her Ipad to a nurse and thanked her quietly before letting herself into her office.

“I mean if I rejected a proposal from a man who meant a lot to me because I wasn’t ready I’d probably down a bottle of wine out of guilt." Maggie smiled bitterly.

“She’s stayed sober through a lot worse,” Meredith countered, glancing up to find Bailey waiting at the door with an expression she knew too well. “Hey, I’ve got to go. Tell Winston I say hi.”

“I will. Talk to you later.” Meredith placed her cell phone in her scrub pocket before meeting an irritated Bailey at the door.

“Where’s Shepherd?” Meredith knew what she was going to say before she even spoke the words. She bit the inside of her cheek, not knowing how to respond.

“Why?” She asked, receiving an eyebrow raise.

“Because she’s got a gliosarcoma in an hour and she hasn’t clocked in,” Bailey stated, fixing her lab coat and giving Meredith an exasperated look. “Look, whatever drama she and Doctor Lincoln are having, I don’t care. She can show up to work.”

“I don’t know where she is,” Meredith responded. “I honestly have no idea.”

“Wha--” Bailey started. She let out a grunt of disapproval before waving an agitated hand in the air and storming off. Meredith bit the nail on her thumb, sending yet another message to the missing neurosurgeon and wondered guiltily, for a moment, why she was so self destructive.

Link spent a lot of time in the ER compared to his colleagues. Compared to most other specialties, the majority of cases that presented themselves in the emergency room were ortho related. Most of the time it was pretty mundane, whether it be a broken ankle or a dislocated shoulder, but to keep the hospital from impending lawsuits, he was usually needed to supervise the interns, who were prowling in the ER looking for cases and trying to pop limbs back into place or reset joints, thinking they could handle it easily on their own.

As a result of this, Link was already in the OR when the trauma came in. He was sitting in the swivel chair behind the desk, dragging his feet across the floor to propel him side to side. He wasn’t paged so he was unfazed by the ambulance pulling up. Then again, he wasn’t really fazed by much these days after falling into a somewhat self deprecating state. He stared at the clock, hoping he’d be let off early.

“Did you hear about this?” Bailey asked Richard, as she secured her gown around herself and handed him a pair of gloves.

“Yeah,” Richard’s voice was a tone that Link couldn’t quite decipher. “Bunch of overdoses at Quilchena, saw it on the news in the lounge. Must’ve been something laced in whatever they all were doing.” He snapped his gloves aggressively over his hands as if he were mad at something. “This kind of thing has been happening all the time because of COVID. Addicts have been struggling during the pandemic. Never seen meetings so full.” Link found himself wondering if he was talking about Amelia. Bailey nodded to Richard sympathetically ask they rushed to meet the gurney’s being pushed into the ER.

“John Doe,” the paramedic announced. “Got naloxone at the scene, friend administered it. Conscious but having trouble breathing.”

“Page cardio,” Bailey ordered to a resident. Link watched curiously as Richard froze in place.

“Jane Doe,” the paramedic continued. “Unconscious but breathing. She--”

“Put her in trauma one,” Richard ordered firmly. Link wished he could see what was going on as he watched the blood drain from Bailey’s face. “Don’t let anyone see her. She wouldn’t want that.” It clicked in Link’s brain at that very moment when the pair of them turned to look his way. He got out of the chair he was in so fast that it clattered to the ground behind him.

Her face was so pale it was practically grey and her arms and lips were tinted a purpley blue. She looked so slender he felt like one could reach out and just snap her in half. Her expression was almost peaceful though, and that’s what haunted him most. The image of her was burned into his mind immediately and he knew, as they wheeled her away, that it would never be forgotten.

As Bailey and Richard steered her gurney away he felt frozen in place before finally, and without any indication from his mind, his feet began to follow them.

“She’s seizing,” Bailey exclaimed, her hands flying up to either side of her head to avoid holding any of her limbs in place. “Where the hell is trauma?” Link watched as she twitched, bile building up in the back of his throat. He felt slightly dizzy. He’d never been one to get queasy, even in med school while the rest of his peers either fainted or threw up during their first time observing in an OR. That’s when he knew he wanted to become a surgeon. He wasn’t sure if it was his ego telling him that he was superior for being the last one standing or the tiny and quick glance of approval the attending gave him before going back to ignoring him completely. Though, there must be something different about seeing someone he loved in this situation because he had to place a hand on the doorway to steady himself and looked away. Teddy came through the doors at that moment, brushing past him as if he didn’t exist. For a reason he couldn't quite explain let out a breath of relief that it wasn’t Owen. Something in his mind was screaming your fault, your fault, your fault. And selfishly, he hoped that Meredith, or really anyone who cared for Amelia half as much as he did, wasn’t at the hospital, and theorized that she’d probably beat him to a pulp.

“Can I help?” He found himself croaking, receiving only a glance from Richard.

“Absolutely not,” the general surgeon replied firmly, before finally getting Amelia connected to the monitor. Everyone in the room kind of paused for a moment, reading the levels and unanimously thinking to themselves silently, fuck.

“She’s coding,” Teddy proclaimed, as the alarm-like sound began to reveal itself. Link’s heart sank and he reached out to grab her hand, ignoring Richard’s orders for him to leave. Her palm was cold like ice, but not the dead kind of cold. Cold as if she’d just run in and out of the water, grinning and calling to him as if the ocean’s touch had electrified her, sending a rush of serotonin through her veins. Link remembers that look from when they’d gone down to California, for a conference that she was speaking at, like it were yesterday. She’d convinced him to go swimming, despite it being mid February, and had explained that diving into the frigid waves replicated the feeling of euphoria she used to get when a really good high would hit her full force. She’d told him about how she would swim a lot when she was first getting sober, craving the way the world felt like it was on pause and the way that silence filled her ears when her head was completely underwater. That was really the last time she’d grinned at him like that. Right before Covid had really hit. The first time they’d left Scout for the weekend with his parents. Coming up out of that water like she had been brought back to life.

He’d been so blind. He’d watched her slip into a mindless routine. Go to work. Drive home. Feed the baby. Put the baby to bed. Go to bed. Wake up. Every day, over and over. She would walk around like a ghost, stuck between life and death. He had ignored the way she'd fill her free time with meetings and when she had started going to sleep before he got home, brushed it off as postpartum and told himself that everything between them was fine. Postpartum doesn’t last this long you idiot.

“Clear!” Teddy’s calm voice echoed through the room, snapping him back to reality, and he pulled away his hand last minute before her chest rose and fell. His eyes flicked to the heart monitor, nothing. “Again, charge to three fifty. Clear!” The room fell silent as the compression pads thumped. Nothing. Teddy paused, staring at the monitor.

“Dr. Altman?” The nurse called out. “Again?” Her voice was quiet as the trauma surgeon lifted a hand in response.

“Wait,” her voice had become soft. The monitor beeped as a small peak rose and fell. “Come on, Amelia,” Teddy muttered.

“Charge again,” Bailey ordered.

“Just give her a second,” Teddy pleaded, not taking her eyes off the screen. “She’s fighting.” The trio of doctors stared at the monitor while Link fixated his eyes on his girlfriend and slid his hand into hers once again, interlocking his fingers with hers. Don’t die, don’t die, don’t die. The monitor beeped, and then beeped again, and then again. Link forced himself to look up and watched as the numbers climbed.

“Thank you, god.” Bailey brought a shaking hand to her face before closing her fingers into a fist and pressing it to her forehead. “We are lucky that the lord is looking out for this woman because the people in her life seem to not be.” The comment cut through Link like a knife.

“Bailey, that is not fair!” Richard exclaimed. Link had never heard the man raise his voice with such aggravation, even Bailey winced as she stormed out of the room, throwing her gloves to the side.

“She’s lost a lot of people...and a lot of surgeons,” Richard muttered in apology to him.

“Can she breathe on her own?” Link choked, looking at Teddy, who shifted on her feet.

“She’s weak. I’d like to keep the tube in for a couple of hours at least. See how she does. I’d also like to get neuro down here to give her a check. Let’s get her up to the ICU for now and monitor her closely. She’s stable. Let’s focus on that for now.” Link nodded, not knowing what else to say as Teddy pulled off her gown and tossed it into the bin before practically staggering out of the stuffy room.

“I didn’t know.” Something about the way Richard was looking his way was causing a buildup of defensiveness inside him.

“How?” Richard shook his head with disappointment, massaging his throbbing temple and trying to block out the emphysematous but rhythmic breath sounds coming from the breathing tube. “How, did you just not know?” His colleague was radiating judgment and Richard’s eyes narrowed into tiny slits before his entire body slumped, in no effort to lecture Link about something he should be hearing from Amelia. He looked at his friend, without a trace of condemnation, knowing, so easily, that it could be him in that hospital bed and her where he was standing. “It’s not my place,” he finally stated, tearing his eyes away from Amelia and blinking away any buildup in his tear ducts. He turned to the nurse and thanked her, always polite. “When you take her up can you make it discreet?” He knew the woman had recognized Amelia immediately. “Her reputation is on the line.” The nurse nodded as if she understood. Richard thanked her again before exiting the room.

Richard had ended up telling Meredith, who stopped by to let Link know that she and Hayes would pick up Scout from daycare and take him home with them. Link couldn’t read her expression, it was clouded as if she was undergoing an internal conflict that caused her to wince and look away upon glancing at Amelia. Some of the colour had returned to her cheeks, they looked as if someone had applied too much blush to a pale complexion and were hot to the touch. Teddy had removed the breathing tube about an hour ago. She’d gasped at first, her lungs whistling and wheezing in protest. Enough to make Teddy almost contemplate putting it back in before the breathing had settled.

“You didn’t look for her,” Meredith blurted out, as if she’d been trying to keep the words at bay. The look on her face told him that she regretted saying it almost immediately.

“Neither did you,” he bit back, more aggressively than he would’ve liked. Meredith’s face snapped away from him so quickly it was as if he’d physically hit her.

“If you really loved her. Enough to marry her. Her response shouldn’t have mattered,” her voice was as sharp as a knife. “She loves you and she’s been unfortunate enough to have most of the people she’s loved taken away from her. Do you know how rare it is for Amelia to come to Maggie and I teary eyed because she finally feels safe and loved and not being pressured into anything by the person she loves? " Meredith took a step back as if she didn't want to continue but couldn't help herself. "Amelia is a runner. She breaks under the expectations that the people that she loves have of her and she functions under the fear that the people she loves are going to leave her or die. So if you want to be an ass and make her feel like she isn’t enough for you because she doesn’t feel the need to commemorate her love to you on a stupid peice of paper, I will remove you from my sister’s life.” She was gone before he could even think of a reply and he stared wordlessly at the spot she’d just vacated.

“No,” the voice was so soft he could barely hear it. His head whipped to where she was lying. “No, no, no, no.” Amelia’s eyes were wide and she recoiled as he reached out to touch her. Her heart monitor climbed and he pulled back his hand. She was looking at him in a way that made his skin crawl. He realized, then, that she was looking at him in fear. She looked scared. It shocked him how quickly everything had fallen apart. How quickly he’d gone from someone she’d loved to someone she felt as though she barely knew. But it wasn’t really that quickly, a part of him was whispering over his shoulder. You just didn’t want to accept it.

“Hey.” The words sounded stupid as soon as they left his mouth. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” He found himself wondering what had happened to her over the last couple of days, the bruises scattered along her arms had become more evident as colour had returned to her skin. She gagged suddenly, moaning in a way that made him sick and he slid a kidney dish under her just in time. There didn’t seem to be much in her stomach so it was mostly dry heaving. Her heart monitor climbed every time he tried to touch her and he gave up on trying to hold back her hair.

“She’s awake?” Teddy stood in the doorway. Amelia looked up at her blankly before laying her head back against the hospital bed and staring up at the ceiling. The shame in her eyes were evident. Link nodded to Teddy, who gave him a somewhat genuine smile. “I’ll just do a quick vitals check.”

“No,” Amelia moaned, the pain in her voice causing Teddy to stop in her tracks. “I just want to go home. Let me go home.”

“You’re not going to go home though, are you?” Link glanced up to find Richard standing at the foot of the hospital bed, arms crossed. His stern expression was slightly wavering. Link wondered how hard it was for him to even be within two meters of her.

“Shut the fuck up,” Amelia spat, pulling her IV out of her wrist and throwing it across the room hard enough that the machine screeched against the concrete floor. Link grimaced as the IV site began to bleed. The sudden bout of energy seemed to exhaust her as she collapsed back onto the bed.

“We’re good for now, Doctor Altman,” Richard said softly, not wanting to watch as his coworker, and friend, incriminated herself in front of someone she’d regret. “You can go home with Maggie or I can check you into a rehab clinic, the choice is yours.” Link’s eyes fell to the floor, his face burning at the idea that he couldn’t be trusted to take care of her.

“Maggie’s on her honeymoon,” Amelia mumbled, the anger dying out in her eyes as she realized what his response would be before he even spoke it.

“I called her,” Richard confirmed her prediction. “Meredith is taking care of Scout and I shouldn’t even be in the same room as you.” Hot tears spilled down Amelia’s cheeks as she glared at him. You ruin everything. The voice in her head had been telling her over and over since she’d woken up.

“Rehab. I choose rehab. Call her and tell her not to come.” Maggie had arrived at the hospital an hour ago but Link decided to keep his mouth shut.

“Fine,” Richard sighed. “I’ll call right now.” He stepped outside where his daughter was waiting anxiously and placed both hands on her shoulders trying to calm her down.

“I need to go in and see her,” Maggie’s breathing was asynchronous, she held her shaky hands into her chest, trying to look into her sister’s hospital room.

“Don’t,” Richard warned. “She’s not herself right now. I shouldn’t have called and stressed you out. She chose rehab.” He watched as her face twisted in confusion.

“What? That’s ridiculous.” Maggie shook her head in disbelief. “Let me take her home.”

“I wasn’t expecting her to be this bad. It’s too much responsibility to put on anyone. I...I just don’t think it would be a good idea, Maggie.” He pulled her into a hug as she started to sob.

“Link, is he…” she trailed off as she buried her face into her biological father’s scrub top.

“It’s not anyone’s fault,” Richard sighed. “But out of everyone, he’s the last person that should be taking care of her right now.” Maggie nodded, cursing herself for not doing more as she had watched Amelia change over the last couple of months. “Has she mentioned anything about her friend Charlotte? She needs an ally, someone who understands how her brain works. I know how much you care about her, Maggie, but you can’t help her the way she really needs in a couple of days when the realization of what she’s done has hit.”

“Charlotte, the one in L.A.? I’ve talked to her a couple times, never really for too long, just over FaceTime when Amelia used to call her while living at Meredith’s.”

“Amelia brought her up a lot at meetings,” Richard bit the inside of his lip, hoping that he was making the right decision. “I think we need to call Charlotte. I think that she knows Amelia on a level that not any of us in Seattle can really understand.”

“Okay,” Maggie nodded, pushing her own feelings aside. “Get St. Ambrose Hospital in Los Angeles on the phone,” she loudly ordered to the intern, sitting at the nurses station, who had been just out of earshot, “And tell them I need to speak to Doctor Charlotte King.”

[atsunflower]

Semi Eita x Reader

Rated: SFW — Angst, cursing, traffic accident, injury descriptions, slight mentions of anxiety and post traumatic stress. 

Word count: 2070

Author notes: and here is the second part of our F.L.Y collab. I want to thank all the girls from Knights of the coconut and in particular, both @mooshua and @neonghxst who were pretty patient with me and helped me a lot throughout this process. You guys are amazing and I can't thank you enough. I guess that's all. Please enjoy your reading!

F.L.Y Masterlist

If this can no longer resonate/ No longer make my heart vibrate/ Then like this may be how/ I die my first death

He felt suffocated as the breath hitched on his throat.

Staring at his hands, the male recalled how said limbs brought the best time of his life:

A setter position at Shiratorizawa Volleyball club.

A desk job at the public department.

A promise as a rising star along his band, under a label with a contract too good to be true.

Roaming through his memories, he remembers that every single one of his  achievements were accompanied by lights:

The reflectors on the court.

The white lamps from his office.

The blinding lights from the stage.

Once had he everything he wanted. Now it was all out of his grasp — And lights, very similar to the last ones, now plagued his thoughts.

After all, he remembers when they blinded him before the car came crashing onto his body. Chills ran down his spine every time he recalled how the headlights of the vehicle were the last thing he saw before blacking out.

All it took was one second and then, a month at the hospital that turned into a lifetime of pain — it took only an accident for his life never be the same again.

"Maybe this is what they call first death" He muttered to himself, the words tasting bitter in his mouth as he took on his surroundings.

The constant tapping the secretary made on the keyboard left his nerves on edge and, added to the sterile scent hanging on the air, it felt like a reminder of the folder that sat heavy on his lap. In addition, the curious, pitying, eyes trained to his figure did nothing to soothe his anxiety.

Well, it's not everyday you see a rockstar sitting in a clinic waiting room, after he almost died, the man mused in distaste.

"Semi Eita?" The voice called from the door across the lounge. There, a male stood eyeing him as he made his way to the office.

The room was spacious, with a desk, cabinets, a stretcher and some anatomic models. A typical physiotherapist office, he guessed — not like Semi had ever been into one before, though.

"Make yourself comfortable, Semi-san" The brunette said as he organized some papers on the desk surface "I see it's your first time here. I'm Ennoshita Chikara, the physiotherapist who will take care of your condition from now on" They both shook hands as Semi sat on the chair. He cursed internally as he felt no force on his right hand.

"So, what brings you here today, Semi-san?" Ennoshita asked, eyeing Semi's right hand.

The grey haired male gulped before handing the folder to the physiotherapist.

"Here, this is the medical report. Shirabu-sensei made sure to specify everything regarding my hand." The brunette hummed before taking it. Semi couldn't muster up the courage to talk about his condition.

"I know, Semi-san. But I need to hear it for the history taking and you may know acceptance can help you through the recovery process" The apologetic tone made him sick.

"I don't want to talk about it. Could you please just proceed with the therapy?"

"Look, I know it's a sensitive topic but—" The therapist was interrupted mid sentence when Semi stood. The chair screeched on the floor at the sudden movement before the male tried to snatch the folder from the other.

Tried. 

The paper sheets scattered on the floor, since he couldn't take a proper grip on them.

Tears of frustration welled up on his eyes, as he murmured a meek apology only to storm out of the place.

Semi Eita felt the pitying eyes following him all the way back to his house.

At home, he felt in peace.

No sympathetic gazes and no condescending words. Just him alone with his own demons.

I need a bath. And a beer, the gray haired man decided as the weak hand carded through his hair locks. He flinched at the touch, feeling how dull it was — tactless, even. Just a bundle of flesh and bones hanging from his wrist. Nothing like it used to be.

Ignoring the pang on his chest, the man walked through the corridor. By his left, he saw a shining glass door and immediately, a sensation of longing crawled up his spine and clawed at his heart. He opened the tinted surface, entering the room.

The music studio was the same way he left on the accident day: the gray hoodie thrown over the chair, the paper cups of coffee scattered over his desk and the Moleskine with the lyrics he wrote that night. They resembled three months of hard work and the whole place, a sanctuary built of his dreams.

Too bad the room now felt like his own private purgatory.

Running his index finger over the notebook's leathery spine, memories invaded his mind. Regret gnawed on him even though he wasn't at fault — well, who would have predicted that going to get cigarettes late at the night would end up in a near-death experience? Who would've guessed that, on the way back to his condo, a drunk fucker would hit him with his car and vanish from the scene, without calling an ambulance?

If the medical help came sooner, would things be different? He often wondered, even though he knew it couldn't be helped. His friend, doctor Shirabu, said the damage on his arm was too extensive with a chance of recovery little to nonexistent. His heart stopped beating when he heard those words.

Looking back at it, Semi Eita regretted getting out of his house for such a trivial thing. Before, the musician had his dreams to push him through. Now, all he had left was a medical report — written in a horrendous handwriting, if he may add — stating that patient Semi Eita suffered a minor brain damage and multiple broken bones that caused a lower motor neuron syndrome with wallerian degeneration on the median nerve of his right arm — he didn't understand a shit about the medical terms, but he knew it was bad. Well, it's not like paralysed fingers in the form of 'the hand of benediction' could be a good outcome of an accident.

Benediction? More like a curse, he scowled.

Snapping out of his internal turmoil, brown orbs wandered over the music studio, eyeing all his equipment, as the man drowned on the nostalgic feeling.

On the far corner of the room, white tiles smiled at him — Though, it wasn't a sign of sympathy: in the far corner of the room, the black piano was smiling in mockery, as if it laughed at him, knowing his condition.

You'll never play again, The piano said

"I know!" He retorted.

Your career is dead, the piano chanted.

"I know!"

So pitiful, it snickered — and that was the last straw before despair washed through his body.

Semi spotted the electric guitar by his left. Grabbing the instrument by its neck, he threw it at the other. The wooden body crashed onto the keyboard, the ivory keys agonized at the violence.

Not that he cared, though. He was hurting a lot more than the piano did.

And the tears running down his face were proof enough of it.

Absorbed in his self-conscious state, he didn't see you entering the room, eyes roaming over the mess he made.

"Oh my, Eita!" And his body crashed into yours, sobbing uncontrollably. 

"Eita, love" You said softly, testing the waters.

"Get out" He pleaded weakly, both of you still slumped over the carpet of his studio. Your boyfriend stopped crying long ago, but sorrow still covered his face.

The sight was heartbreaking.

"You know I won't" You said, holding him tighter.

"[Name], get the fuck out!" He said an octave louder, pushing you away "The last thing I want now is your pity. And I don't want you to see me like this, either" Ever the proud man he was, hatred laced his voice — and even though you knew it wasn't directed at you and that he didn't mean it, it still hurted.

"I won't leave you. And I don't pity you" You sincerely stated.

"So why the fuck you're looking at me like this?" Hazel irises squinted at you, the hands clutching your shoulder tightened their grip — the hold on your right felt a lot more stronger.

"I'm worried" And then, he laughed.

Hysterically.

Almost scaringly.

"Why waste your time, huh?" You tried to retort, he beated you to it.

"Why bother with a failure for a boyfriend, hm?"

"Eita"

"What's left to you, huh? I bet you're leaving me now that my fucking career went downhill and I won't be famous anymore" The venom of his words scorched your ears.

Throwing insults at you, Semi didn't measure his words and nor did you measure your actions. A second after, all the two of you felt was the stinging flesh.

Of your hand.

Of his cheek.

"So you'll just sit here and cry?" You grabbed him by the collar, eyes boring into his "Shirabu himself said there was a chance. Are you giving up this easily?"

"Shirabu said there was a slight chance" He corrected you, saliva was sprayed over your skin when he screamed at your face.

"And you'll just take it, giving up without a try?" You were so done. The Semi you knew wasn't a spineless man who gave up so easily.

"You don't know how it feels!" He cracked again, the cry went past his mouth, wavering on the air. Your features softened as your hands moved upwards, cradling his face.

"I don't" The words came ragged "But please, don't give up without pulling out a good fight. You're not acting like yourself"

"It's just so hard. You don't get how empty I feel" The man before you was nothing like your Eita.

"For fuck's sake, Eita. Try the surgery and if it doesn't work, wait for the physical therapy results. If it still doesn't work, learn to play with the other hand, goddammit" You leaned onto him, joining your foreheads "Just don't give up. Back to our Shiratorizawa years, you said you wanted to rely on your own strength to show you abilities, because you desire to do things were always too strong. You prided yourself for being free when showing off, then why are you letting this situation hold you down?"

"It's hard. It's like I'm dying, but feels much more worse than that" Words came in a whisper, still reluctant to consider the options.

"But did you die? Did your talent die?" You lightly shook his body, trying to infuse some energy into it "Did you, all of sudden, forget how to make music?" And he saw determination painted in the hue of your irises.

"But—" He tried to argue.

"No buts, even if you can't play in the band, you can still be a producer. Don't let life reap your art away from you" You pleaded, hoping your words could somehow touch him.

Peeking into his face, you observed its features softening as you felt his muscles relaxing under your palms and your boyfriend reciprocating your loving touches.

Your heart was finally at ease.

"How come you always know what to say in the right time, even if it's cliché as fuck?" Eyelids covered the orbs you loved so much as the words were spoken in a serene mode. 

Semi Eita felt peace.

You tucked the broader body inside of your arms, caressing the lean muscles of his shoulders.

"There's a reason why, other than my pretty face, I'm your muse" He playfully scoffed at you, tightening the hold on your waist.

"Who said you are?" You ignored his words, paying attention to the hair locks under your chin "[Name]?" He started uncertain.

"Hm?"

"You're right. Guess if I didn't die in the accident, it's only fair if I don't let my life as an artist go away either" His soft-spoken words meant everything to you.

Relief washed over you as your heartbeat increased in your chest. But the most important was how you could feel Semi's heart beating again.

I'm in my workroom, it's my studio/ The waves go darkly by in a throe/ But I'll never get dragged away again

Taglist: @anseoo @keiijiis @inarizakikoukou @deerixiie @bristil @maramalademadara @thedreadthreadanomaly @catharsisbabey @aprettyfruit @ttsukii @chasekudo @kenmashoe @daijoubuyuki @krusty-cheetahs @ohmythatmiya

[fivefeetfear]

Chapter 4

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

(Y/N) spent about an hour showing Spinel around the small town, giving the pink gem a rundown of the tiny metropolis. At some point Spinel stopped processing the words the short girl was saying since her brain seems to be on the fritz as alarms went off in her head. Because at this very moment (Y/N) was holding her hand. She was holding (Y/N) hand. They are holding hands! This was all she could think about for the last hour; they're laced fingers locked together. It felt nice. However, as a means of distraction from the hand holding, the pink gem began to pay attention to (Y/N) facial expressions. The taller gem admiring every smile line whenever she smiled, or the way her eyebrows knitted together or the way her cute nose scrunches up! This isn’t helping. Spinel averts her eyes when the (Y/G) would glance up at her. She could feel her cheeks glowing pink. Shit she was almost caught staring! Little did Spinel knew, she was, a few times, and it only made (Y/N) smile as she walked closer to Spinel; their arms brushing against one another every so often.

"Ok, I think it's time for us to take a break. I'm going to take you to my favorite ice cream shop! They have the best (F/F) ever! It's so creamy and sweet, I know you'll love it." She sighs softly ready to have her favorite frozen treat.

"There it is!" The (C/G) gem calls out happily, (Y/N) picks up her pace as she tugs the pink gem along. Spinel grins to herself eagerness; she had a feeling she has to get used to the idea of her arm possibly be dislocated. And she was ok with that. The two approached a cute yellow shop with a large neon sign reading "Scoops". Before the two made it to the door, the tall gem used her stretching abilities to open the door and gestured for (Y/N) to go first.

"After you ." Spinel says softly.

"Thank you." Y/N replies as she walked into the chilly shop. The two made their way to the front, standing at the register was a short teal Opal gem, she waves at them politely as she glanced at the familiar (Y/G)

"Would you like your usual Ms. (Y/N)?" Opal asks getting ready to punch in the order.

"Yes!" the (Y/G) answers nearly rocking in place, eyes wide with childlike wonder. The teal Opal looks over at Spinel and asks her for her order too.

"I'll take a raspberry cone please." The magenta gem orders. The list was huge so she just called out the first one she could see. Food wasn’t her thing but she enjoys sweets.

"Ok, your total will be $7.45." Opal confirms with a bright smile. Spinel reached into her sweater pocket to pull out her money, Steven had given her some for the outing. The slim gem then glances over sees (Y/N) pulling out her wallet from her dress pocket. Um no? She was not about to let this cutie pay for her, not on her watch. With a heavy sigh, Spinel begrudgingly releases the short gem's hand. The pink gem stretches her arm around (Y/N) and swipes the wallet from her grasp. (E/C) eyes widen as they followed the hand as it springs back to Spinel. The pink gem tucked it away in her sweater for safekeeping.

"Spi-"

"I gotcha covered." She says coolly giving the cashier the proper amount of money.

"But you're my guest; I'm supposed to treat you." The (Y/G) explains as she pouts gazing up at the pink girl. God, she's too damn cute for her own sake. It wasn't fair on how big of an impact (Y/N) has over her already. Spinel averts her eyes away as she rubs the back of her neck.

"It's the least I could do for you for being so nice to me." Spinel informs as she gives (Y/N) a shy smile. (Y/N) chest tighten as her cheeks lit up. This was the first time she has seen Spinel smile! And it was so cute! The (E/C) eyed female could feel the gem on her neck grow warm as she memorized the wrinkles by Spinel's eyes. The short gem hums thoughtfully before taking the frozen treats.

"Fine, but next time I'm treating!" she says, playfully bumping hips with the taller gem. Spinel's left brow quirks up as her orbs followed her retreating figure. Next time? She wanted to ask what she meant by that but decided against it. Maybe when they were lone.

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

The pair made their way across the street to a large park in the middle of Little Homeworld. They sat on a bench as they finished their frozen treats in a comfortable silence. Spinel watched as other couples wander the park enjoying the warm weather. Her eyes spotted two gems holding hands as they sat on the swing beside each other. Her eyes drifted down towards (Y/N) petite hands that rested next to hers. Feeling warm under the collar, Spinel tried to summon the courage to touch her hand, but she couldn't do it! The pink gem was in an internal war with herself as she trembled in her spot wanting to have physical connect with her again. UGHHH why was she so pathetic!

"Spinel?"

"Yes!" the pink gem shouts nervously startling (Y/N).

"I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean t-to shout." (Y/G) waves it off as she leans in closer into Spinel's personal space.

"Don’t worry about it, I just wanted to make sure you were having.” (Y/N) hums sweetly as she swings her short legs, her feet barely touching the ground.

"Y-yeah, I'm having f-fun, but I've b-been meaning to ask y-you something. S-something that d-doesn't make any sense." Spinel informs, her voice trailed off at the end. (Y/N) stops swinging her feet and turned her body to let Spinel know she has her full attention.

"Sure, what is it?" Spinel could feel every atom in her body shaking with fear, her chest constricting tightly with each second that goes by. Relax, she needed to....relax. The pink gem took in a deep breath holding it for ten seconds and slowly releasing it. Ok, she could do this. Spinel lifts her head higher as she shifts her magenta orbs to look directly into (E/C) eyes.

"At the ice cream parlor you said, you’ll be treating next time. What did you mean by that?” (Y/N) blinks her eyes several times as she tilts her head to the side.

“Well it means I would like to hang out without with again.” The curvy gem answers like it was obvious. Or at least she thought SHE was being obvious about her crush towards Spinel.

“See thats what I don’t get? Why do you want to hang out with me again?” Spinel quips anxiously back needing more clarity. Why would she want to be around her! Spinel knew (F/N) and everyone in Little Homeworld knew who she is! They have to know what she has done! And if she does why does she wants to be even near her!!

"Because you're nice." (Y/N) answers simply as she waited for the slender gems reaction. The (Y/G) didn’t understand why this was so important to Spinel. It seems like she wants a life altering answer on why she wants to be spend time with her but she doesn’t have one.

The dots were not connecting for the pink gem and it was beginning to irritate her. Spinel sat unmoving on the bench as she stared down at the (Y/G), her expression completely unreadable. (Y/N) began to shift her eyes around growing nervous under the magenta hues. Did she say something wrong? Before (Y/N) could speak, Spinel started chuckling to herself, it gradually got louder and it threw (Y/N) completely off guard. It was not a happy laugh either, it was a laugh empty of joy and filled to the brim with bitterness.

"W-what's so funny?" (Y/N) asks meekly. Spinel quicks her laughing then snaps her attention back to the short gem as she frowns in disdain.

"You. You're what's funny!" she responses mockingly. Ok? The short girl's eyes widen with confusions as she grips the hem of her dress in firmly completely confused what is happening. Spinel resumes her spiteful laughter as she leans forward placing her elbows on her knees. The pink gem felt like she had completely crashed and could not help the uncontrollable laughter that erupted from her form. Spinel has spent the majority of the day thinking about why a talented and beautiful gem such as (Y/N) wanted to hang around her? A gem that is twisted and completely unstable! And to hear her say it was because she thinks she is nice! What a joke! Where on earth would she get that idea from? Spinel hasn't done anything nice in her life! All she has ever been was a burden!

The self-hatred laughter died down, she then sharpens her eyes in a scowl. Her teeth gritted down as the pink gem felt the fire of distrust burn within. Was she toying with her? (Y/N) has to know who she is and what she has done, right?! Of course, she knows! She is friends with the Crystal Gems! Maybe this was a setup! Was she using some form of reverse psychology? Maybe this was all some elaborate plan to see if she is still as unhinged as the day she left.Why else would she be gaslighting her like this? Paranoia floods her mind drowning any rational thought she had left. Spinel felt her eyebrows twitch uncontrollably as she let her insecurity devour her.

"Did you hit your head or something? Or are you always this full of shit? Why would you think that? I know you heard about me and what I've done. I gave you no reason to believe I am nice. Was it because I bought you ice-cream, mmhm!? If that's your only proof then you set the standards for yourself pretty damn low! It's sad really! If that's all that it takes for you to consider ME nice to consider hanging out with me, I can’t imagine what I have to do to get between your legs." Spinel cracks with a sadistic grin.

(Y/N) eyes widen in anger as she stood up from the spot on the bench, her hand glowing a bright (F/C) as she reeled it back as far as she can and swung it forward with all her might. She refused to let anyone talk to her like that.

SLAP

Spinel head swirls around from the powerful impact as she hisses in pain. Damn, that really hurt, she knew it was going to leave a nasty bruise. The pink gem unwind her neck as she cupped her injured cheek, her eyes meeting teary (E/C) ones. (Y/N) breathed heavily in anger as her tiny hands shook with rage.

"You are such-"

"A bitch? Asshole? Monster?!" Spinel suggested with a crooked smile. The pink gem felt her figurative heartbreak knowing this was her defense mechanism trying to protect her. Protecting her from any more pain. The hatred that she harbors for herself had completely overruled Spinel's hope for any potential relationship with (Y/N). She knew she was already attached to the (Y/G), and it scared her on how quickly it happened. The magenta gem refused to let anyone have that kind of hold on her again.

(Y/N) seethed in rage as her fists glowed once more, angry tears building up in her eyes.

"To t-think you...you...fuck!" (Y/N) growls under her breath, choking on her tears. How did this happen? How did this day take a wild one eighty!? (Y/N) saw a crowd begin to form and it took everything inside her to ignore the stares.

"To think what? That I was NICE?" Spinel snaps as she reaches over and grabs (Y/N) wrist.

"Oh I'm a swell gal alright. I'm sooooo nice that I brought an injector to earth filled with Bio-Poison to kill your precious Steven! To completely wipe him out from existence right along with the planet and his friends! YOUR friends! So please tell me what it is that you?!” Spinel demands as she glared harshly at (Y/N). The furious gem began to tower over the (G/C) girl as she grabs her other wrist to yank her closer, staring directly into (E/C) hues trying to figure out what her aim is.

"ANSWER ME!" She screams into the short gem's face, panic laced within her words.

"To think you were the one that found me!" (Y/N) roars back into the Spinel's face refusing to let the pink gem intimidate her. Spinel's face contours in confusion when her words-processed in her head. Found her? What did she mean by that?

(Y/N) growls as a blinding white light consumed her form, this startled Spinel as her grasped loosen around her wrist. The (G/C) gem latched her hands onto Spinel's forearms keeping her in place.

"Let go of me!" Spinel yells frantically trying to escape the iron grip of the short gem, but no dice. The light then creeps up onto the base of Spinel's forearms and spread to the rest of her body. This kicked her into panic mode as her eyes dilated in fear, feeling her skin heating up.

The two then vanished into thin air.

[actress4him]

Whumptober 2020 - Day 31

This is it! The very last post of Whumptober, and the long-awaited sequel to Day 8! If you're brand new to this whump party and haven't read it yet, you'll want to go back and do so before diving into this monstrosity. And when I say monstrosity I mean, it's looooooong. I wanted to do it justice and give you guys the ending you deserve, which...I'm hoping I pulled off. I'm not used to posting stuff so soon after writing it, without re-reading and editing over a period of time! Anyway, it wasn't one that I could easily just say, oh and they rescued him and put him in a pod and they lived happily ever after, because there was a whole bunch of emotional stuff everyone had to deal with, too. Thus the length, and the postponing of this post so I could actually finish it. 

That said, this is actually more angst than it is whump, but hopefully there's enough whump to satisfy and hopefully it's a satisfying way to end the month. Enjoy!

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Day 31 (No. 29 and Alt. 7)  - Reluctant Bedrest/Found Family

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Warnings: fantastic racism, self-hatred, death mention, blood, referenced animal attack, fever, infection, hallucinations, needles, panic attacks, suicide ideation

It had been nearly a week since they abandoned Keith. Discarded him, like garbage. Dropped him off on some deserted planet like some people back on Earth used to drop off animals that they didn’t want to have to take care of. 

Shiro had always hated those people. Now he was one of them.

Except worse, because this wasn’t a puppy they had dumped on the side of the road, this was a hu-...okay, well only partly a human being, but a person, nonetheless. The person that he had seen as the little brother he never had for the past several years that he had known him. The person that he had sworn, even if only internally, to look after, always.

And sure, it wasn’t like it was his idea, but he had still let it happen. Yeah, if he had tried to fight it, Allura probably would have locked him in his room and done it without him. But he should have fought anyway. He should have let them drag him away like they had Keith that day they found out he was part Galra. Maybe they would have thrown him in a cell, too. Maybe then he’d actually be able to look at himself in the mirror now.

They wouldn’t have, though. He was human. He was trustworthy.

So trustworthy that he had turned his back on his brother, all for the sake of Voltron and the universe. 

That was the lie he had been telling himself, the one thing that had kept him from jumping in his Lion and going after Keith for days. The universe needed Voltron. Therefore, the universe needed him. He was the leader of Voltron, he couldn’t just abandon the rest of the team and disobey the Princess’ orders for the sake of one man. Being a defender of the universe meant having to make sacrifices and hard choices.

And maybe all of that was actually true, but it was only half the story. Keith needed him. As the leader of Voltron, he should be setting an example for the rest of the team to follow, and should be able to make decisions for the good of every team member without being threatened and overruled by the Princess. Being a decent person who could live with his own choices meant not going against his own promises and ideals.

He knew all of that. But both sides seemed true, and which side seemed more important changed by the second. 

To top it all off, the team had practically fallen apart since leaving Borulmyte. Not only were they down a Paladin, unable to form Voltron, but hardly anyone was speaking to each other unless forced. Allura was sulking because her father’s Lion wouldn’t accept her. Hunk, who had never seemed all that happy with the idea of kicking Keith out, seemed depressed. Pidge had pretty much locked herself in her room, he assumed furiously searching for any sign of her family. Lance was, as always, hard to get a read on, but he was noticeably quiet and stoic whenever he happened to appear. Coran had barely spoken a word the whole week.

And Shiro? He couldn’t stand to be around any of them. They were the ones who had done this to Keith. Sure, a couple had made weak arguments on his behalf at the beginning, but in the end they had all caved to Allura’s wishes and turned on him. He blamed them just as much as he blamed himself for sitting here in the comfort of the Castle while Keith...who even knew? At the very least he was alone and probably scared, even though he’d never admit that. At the worst, he could be struggling to survive, dying at that very moment, and none of them would ever know.

Whichever it was, he didn’t deserve it.

Coran had called a meeting on the bridge for something he said was urgent. It was probably another distress call, though the last one - the only mission they had attempted that week - had gone so terribly that Shiro wasn’t sure if they should even bother trying again. Running a smooth, successful mission is awfully difficult when no one wants to speak to each other, much less work in sync.

Usually he was the first one to arrive for meetings like this. Well, except for maybe Keith, but that wasn’t a thought he wanted to dwell on right then. This time, when he finally dragged himself to the bridge, the others were all already there, though none of them looked happy about it. Unlike in the past, when he always tried to keep up everyone’s morale by being focused and enthusiastic himself, no matter how he actually felt, now he didn’t bother. Crossing his arms, he let his face rest in exactly the scowl he was feeling.

“What is this about, Coran?”

“Yes, I would like to know as well.” Allura’s brow was furrowed, clearly not happy at being left out of the loop. 

The orange-haired adviser wrung his hands, staring down at the floor. “Well, it’s...this is difficult to say. But…” Drawing in a deep breath that puffed out his chest, he finally looked up, catching each of their gazes. “I’ve been keeping something from you. It’s about Number F-...Keith. It’s about Keith.”

Keith’s name had practically become forbidden, so of course it automatically caught everyone’s attention. Shiro unfolded his arms and stepped forward. “What about Keith?” he demanded.

Coran’s eyes darted back to the floor. “He gave us messages to pass on to each of you. Before we left Borulmyte.”

“Coran!” Allura hissed.

“No, Princess.” The response took everyone in the room by surprise, including Allura if the expression on her face was any indication. None of them had ever heard Coran speak that way to her, especially not to tell her no. He took another breath and seemed to steel himself. “You know that I have always served the royal family willingly, and that I see you like a daughter. I would follow you anywhere. However...you are still young. A great burden has been placed on your shoulders, and you have done extraordinarily well with it. But sometimes you make mistakes, and this, my dear...this has been a grave mistake.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that we never should have left the boy behind. Galra or not, he has never proven himself anything but the most loyal of paladins, and yet we have punished him for a crime he did not commit.”

Shiro was torn between feeling relief that someone besides him was saying it, and anger that it hadn’t been said sooner. “Why didn’t you speak up when I was trying to convince them all of this same thing days ago?”

Coran flashed him a guilty expression. “Because I was too much of a coward. I didn’t want to speak against my Princess, even though I knew what she was doing was wrong.” Squaring his shoulders, he looked around at the other paladins again. “But regardless of what anyone else thinks or decides, I can do this. I can fulfill the boys’ last request before he was left behind.”

Something in Shiro’s gut twisted at that statement, and he could see some shuffling of feet and shifting of positions around him that pointed to the others feeling the same way. No one liked to be reminded of what they had done.

“Fine,” Allura finally spat. “Do what you must to clear your conscience.” She crossed her arms and leaned back against the console with a huff.

“First to Number Two...Hunk.” Coran gave the Yellow Paladin a gentle smile. “He wanted you to know that he would miss your cooking, especially the brownies you made for him.”

That was all it took for Hunk to start crying, though he said nothing in reply.

“Lance, he said to tell you that he never hated you, that you annoyed him sometimes but were a good friend, too.”

If Shiro hadn’t been intently watching, he might have missed the way Lance’s eyes widened before he ducked his head and scuffed his sneaker into the floor.

“Pidge, your message was that he really, really hopes you find your family. And that he kept meaning to tell you he thinks you’re doing great with your bayard.”

Her eyebrows pulled in tight at the first part, but at the second she blinked as if surprised and looked away.

“And besides his message to the Red Lion that he would miss her, and to us, thanking us for the opportunity to fly her…” He turned to stare at Allura for that, and she couldn’t hold his gaze, either… “That leaves you, Shiro.”

The other messages had already left him ripped open, so he wasn’t really sure how he was supposed to handle one meant just for him.

Coran lips pursed into a sad smile. “‘Just tell him I love him.’”

He felt as if all the walls came crashing down on him all at once. He loved him. Of course he did, he knew he did, they had always treated each other like brothers. But he had never said it. And now he had, and it was after Shiro had allowed him to be kicked out of the place they had all come to see as a home.

Spinning on his heel, he marched toward the door without a word.

“Shiro, wait, where are you going?”

If it had been any of the others, he might have just ignored them. But it was Hunk, so he at least threw the answer over his shoulder. “I’m going to get Keith.”

“Shiro -!”

“No!” This time he whirled around, sending all of his fury in a glare toward Allura. “I’m done letting you tell me how I should treat my little brother! I am going to get Keith, not the Galra, but our friend, the Red Paladin, the strongest and bravest and most loyal person I know, and no one is going to stop me! If you don’t want us back here, fine. I don’t care. Find yourself new Red and Black Paladins. But I won’t leave him down there a second longer.”

It was unclear whether Allura even knew what to say to that, but before she had the chance Hunk piped up again. “I’m coming with you! Erm, if...that’s okay.”

Shiro spared him a small smile. “Of course it is.”

No one said anything as they left the room. Hunk jogged a little to catch up to Shiro’s long, quick strides before matching his pace. 

“I was a coward, too, like Coran said. Which, you know, isn’t really anything new, just...me being a coward isn’t usually at the expense of one of my friends. I was scared, to start with. Of him being, you know. Galra. But that’s stupid, really. Galra Keith is still Keith.”

“Yeah. He is.” He just hoped he was still Keith, still whole and well and not irrevocably changed, when they got to him. “I was just as much of a coward as anyone else, or more. I let the duty I felt to Voltron and the universe get in the way of the way I actually wanted to act. I should have gone after him right away.”

Hunk hummed in understanding. “Well, at least you actually stood up for him.”

They stopped off in their rooms to change into armor, then headed for Black and Yellow’s hangars. The long way, since they didn’t want to risk going back to the bridge and running into everyone else. Shiro had debated whether or not he should take Black, or just a pod, but decided that even if Allura wouldn’t let them stay, returning Black would give everyone a good chance to see Keith again and really make sure they wouldn’t change their minds.

“Since we don’t have a wormhole, it’s gonna take us a while to get there,” he told Hunk over the comms once they were situated in their Lions and starting to take off.

“I don’t mind. Just...how are we gonna find him once we’re there? I mean, he could have traveled a ways from where we...you know, left him.”

“I can track his quintessence.” The new voice took him by surprise, but not nearly as much as spinning around to find Green and Blue hovering over the Castle. “But I’ll have to be pretty close to him first. So we’ll still have to fly around for a while to try to catch a signal, then we’ll be able to narrow it down to a smaller area.”

Shiro was too shocked by their appearance to come up with a reasonable response, so he just ended up echoing, “We?”

Lance’s solemn face popped up on a video screen in front of him, followed by another with Pidge’s. “Yeah, we,” he said, mouth set in a firm line. “We’ve been stupid, and we wanna fix it. If...if we can.”

Clenching his jaw, Shiro sighed. “That’ll be up to Keith, I suppose. What kind of shape he’s in, and...whether he’ll forgive us.”

“We don’t really deserve it,” Pidge mumbled.

“No, we don’t. But let’s go ask for it anyway.”

They talked a little as they flew. It was quiet, and a bit awkward, but it was more than they had talked all week. Lance admitted that he had been having doubts ever since they left, memories of time spent with Keith haunting his thoughts. The message had just sealed the deal.

Pidge shrugged when asked about her change of heart, and quietly conceded that she didn’t think she had ever really believed he was a bad guy. She was just hurting, and he had been the perfect target to take it out on. Her desperation to find her family had blinded her.

They were several hours into a trip that Hunk calculated would take a few days when a wormhole appeared in front of them, seemingly out of nowhere. Every Lion pulled up short, exclamations of surprise echoing across the comms. 

Shiro jerked his Lion around to find the Castle looming behind them. His immediate thought was that Coran had somehow taken over and caught up with them, but Coran couldn’t make wormholes.

“...Allura?”

Her voice over the comms was more tentative than he thought he had ever heard it. “I have not yet decided to trust him. But I...I have seen how passionate all of you are about this, and I am...willing to reconsider my original stance.”

It wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but it was more than he had expected. He’d take it. 

“Alright guys. Let’s go bring our boy home.”

The sight of the planet Borulmyte made Shiro’s stomach turn a flip. This was it. This was the place where Keith had been living for the past week. He couldn’t even imagine what it had been like for him. Allura and Pidge had done extensive research on multiple planets before deciding that this was the best one, and they had had plenty of “reassuring” things to say about it. He had always wondered, though, what they weren’t saying. Or what their research hadn’t turned up. There was no way that they could have known everything there was to know about a planet just from reading about it. “Livable conditions” didn’t mean enjoyable conditions.

“Coran and I will stay here with the Castle. Keep us updated.”

Shiro gave a nod. “Pidge, how close do you need to be to pick up Keith’s quintessence?”

“Within a few miles.”

“Alright. We’ll start at the drop off point. I’m gonna guess he would have headed east, into the forest, to find shelter.” That was the one reassurance he had about the whole situation, knowing that Keith was trained in survival skills. “We’ll head there first, and take it mile by mile.”

It took them the rest of the day. Only a fraction of that time had passed when Shiro started to run every possible horrible scenario through his mind of why they weren’t finding it, even though he knew that they probably just hadn’t hit the right spot yet. 

“There!” Pidge shouted. “I’ve got it!”

Relief flooded Shiro down to his toes. “Alright. Mark this location. We’ll have to go land in the desert and fly back in the Green Lion. She’s the only one small enough to fit in that little clearing over there. 

The little clearing, as it turned out, was around a creek that seemed to be clear and safe. His relief grew just a little more. If Keith had managed to end up this close to a water source, then maybe he was doing okay.

“Okay, Pidge. Lead the way.”

Hiking through the woods took almost another full day. A day in which the sun never actually rose. He hadn’t paid attention to start with, when they were still flying, because constant darkness outside had become the new norm, but now that they were on solid ground it was painfully obvious that they had yet to see light this entire time. And the temperature gauge on his helmet display was much lower than he wanted it to be. Livable? Yes. Comfortable without armor? No. He wanted to interrogate Allura and Pidge on whether they knew about this when they had chosen to send Keith to this planet, but it wasn’t the time. He had to focus on finding Keith, nothing else.

After hours and hours of walking by only the flashlights built into their helmets, during which time no one, not even Lance, dared to complain, there was finally a spike on Pidge’s quintessence tracker. 

“Over here!” she shouted, taking off at a sprint through the underbrush. 

The others followed, swatting branches and bushes out of their way. Any second, Shiro expected to run into Keith. Maybe sitting in whatever hideout he had found, or out hunting for food in the never-ending darkness, his eyebrows flying up in surprise when he saw them all rushing in.

Instead, when he stumbled to a halt beside Pidge, she was staring at the ground, and there was no Keith in sight. 

“Pidge? What is it?”

Lifting a shaky finger, she pointed. Even before he looked, Shiro could feel his chest tightening with anxiety. And for good reason, too. The stain that was illuminated on the dirt and leaves was dried, at least a couple of days old, but it was undeniably blood. It was also concerningly large, and with the quintessence tracker crackling louder than they had heard it so far, there was no getting around the fact that it belonged to Keith.

Hunk immediately began babbling his worries, but Shiro’s heart was pounding too loudly in his ears for him to comprehend what he was actually saying. For a long moment he just stared at the bloodstain. It wasn’t until Lance stepped in closer to speak that he was broken out of his trance.

“Shiro? Do you think he’s…”

“No.” Yes. He didn’t know. It was a lot of blood. But he wouldn’t allow himself to believe that Keith was anything but okay until he saw him with his own eyes. “Pidge, is there a trail?”

She tore her eyes away to look at the screen, pacing back and forth a bit before nodding wordlessly and taking off through the bush. If her steps were a bit quicker now, no one blamed her. They just picked up their pace, too, solemn and silent other than Lance quietly updating Allura and Coran on what they had found. 

Every once in a while, a small patch of dark red on a leaf or tree trunk would catch Shiro’s eye. He tried to take it as a good sign. If Keith had been able to pick himself up from whatever had happened and trek through the woods, then maybe he wasn’t too bad off. At the time. Two or more days later? It was impossible to say.

The walk from there only took a few minutes, but it felt like an eternity. Finally, finally, he spotted a small cave over the top of Pidge’s head, just as the tracker grew in volume and Pidge broke into a run. 

“Keith? Keith!”

He was right on her heels, barreling through the opening, terrified of what he would find. And what he did see was almost exactly what he had feared - Keith, his skin far too pale under their flashlights, lying completely still on the ground next to the cold, charred remains of a campfire. There were rough slashes in his t-shirt, through which bloody scabs could be seen, and his right leg was almost entirely wrapped in large blue leaves tied off with what looked like dried grass. It didn’t take much guesswork to figure out that the sporadic dark stains on the leaves were blood.

“Keith.” Shiro was by his side without really knowing how he got there, sliding down onto his knees next to the unmoving figure. “No, no, no, no, Keith, come on, don’t do this to me.” He carded his hand through the messy black hair. “Keith, please.”

Pale lips parted, and a groan spilled out. Shiro nearly fell over with relief. Somewhere behind him, Lance was exclaiming his own relief in Spanish, while Hunk hovered just over his shoulder. Keith’s forehead, which he now noticed was coated in a sheen of sweat, furrowed, and he turned his head slightly to face Shiro before squinting his eyes open.

“Go ‘way,” he rasped, taking all of them by surprise. “‘re not real.”

“Yeah, yeah we are, buddy.” He stroked his hair again, then yanked off his glove so he could lay his flesh hand against his cheek, trying not to wince at the heat that met his touch. A fever. Whatever that wound was on his leg, it had probably gotten infected. No wonder he didn’t think they were real. “Doesn’t this feel real?”

Keith seemed to consider this, his brain probably having to work twice as hard as usual to process anything. Finally there was what seemed to be acceptance in those glazed eyes, but instead of seeming happy or confused or surprised or any of the emotions that they might have expected, he simply let his head roll back to the side and closed his eyes. “Come to...finish me off?”

“What? Keith, no, why would you think that?” Hunk exclaimed, dropping down right next to Shiro. “We came to take you home.”

“We’ve, uh...we were really terrible to you. It was really, really wrong,” Lance joined in.

Pidge shuffled her feet awkwardly. “Yeah. We, um. We want you to come back.”

“Even Allura is willing to reconsider, but whatever she decides, we're getting you out of here.” Shiro took one of Keith’s hands in his own and squeezed. “I never should have let her dictate how you were treated to start with.”

Silence fell for a moment. Keith cut his eyes up toward Shiro, not moving his head. “Knew you weren’t real.”

Pidge gave an exasperated grunt. “Keith -”

“Don’t worry about it right now.” Sliding his glove back on, Shiro straightened and got ready to pick Keith up bridal style. “He’s burning up with an infection. We’ll have to talk to him later, once he can actually comprehend what’s going on. For now let’s just get him back to the Castle and into a pod.”

Shiro scooped Keith up gently into his arms, causing him to cry out when his leg was jostled. “I’m sorry, bud,” he whispered. “You’re gonna be okay.” He didn’t at all like how light he felt, nor how gaunt his face looked. It had only been a week, but it didn’t seem like he had eaten much in that time.

Now that they knew where they were going, the walk back to the Green Lion went by quickly. Pidge flew them back to their own Lions, with Hunk and Lance towing Black to the Castle so that Shiro could stay in Green’s cargo hold with Keith. He didn’t want to let him go, couldn’t even keep his eyes off of him. He was too afraid that if he looked away, he would be gone, would succumb to his infection or perhaps just vanish into thin air. In the better lighting of the Lion, Keith looked all the more pale and feverish, his breaths coming shallow as he mumbled unintelligible words and occasionally whimpered with pain.

“What kind of injuries are we dealing with here, Number One?”

Shiro barely remembered arriving at the Castle and exiting the Green Lion, but there he was, standing next to Coran and a stretcher. Tenderly, he settled Keith down onto the padded surface. “Not sure. Maybe an animal attack of some kind? I haven’t been able to get a look at his wounds yet. He’s got a fever for sure, though, so they’re probably infected.”

Coran’s face turned grim. “That’s unfortunate. We won’t be able to put him into cryosleep until his temperature is back to normal.”

Gritting his teeth, Shiro found Keith’s hand and held it as they walked toward the infirmary. Poor kid just couldn’t catch a break. He didn’t deserve any of this. And now it sounded like when he was back to himself, they were going to have to go back through a whole three years’ worth of self-esteem boosting...maybe even more. He let out a long sigh. It seemed like he had just finally convinced Keith that he was worth loving, that he was important, that not everyone in his life was going to abandon him. 

Then he sat back and let everyone in his life abandon him.

Coran sucked in a loud breath through his teeth as he peeled back the crude leaf bandages. “Yes, this is most certainly infected. And I would say that your animal attack hypothesis is correct. These look mostly like tooth marks. Quite deep.”

It looked mostly like a mangled, bloody mess to Shiro. His stomach turned, not just from the smell of the infection, and he was glad that Hunk wasn’t there at the moment. “What do we need to do?”

“Well, I’ll need to clean these. You might want to hold him down for that part.”

Keith bucked and writhed under Shiro’s hands as Coran poured antiseptic over his leg, screaming in agony. Shiro was pretty sure his heart was permanently residing in his throat now. He whispered reassurances, hardly knowing what he was saying, well aware that Keith probably couldn’t hear or comprehend any of it. 

After a thorough cleaning, Coran wrapped the leg in clean bandages and pulled a thin sheet up over his waist. Shiro sank into the bedside chair, relieved beyond words that the worst part was over. They spoke very little as they went about the rest of the work that needed to be done, Coran handing Shiro the antiseptic and a clean cloth so that he could work on the claw marks across Keith’s chest, then focusing himself on preparing an IV bag of antibiotics and nutrients. Shiro gently smoothed adhesive bandages over the cuts when he was done. When he looked up, Coran was sliding the IV into place in the back of Keith’s hand.

“That should do it for now. I’m going to get a cool, wet cloth to help bring his fever down, but he should recover just fine.”

It was only then that Shiro finally allowed himself to dissolve into tears, like he had been wanting to ever since finding Keith in that cave. Burying his face in his hands, he let the tears soak his cheeks and the sobs wrack his body, uncaring for once that someone was there to see him fall apart.

A sturdy hand landed on his back, rubbing soothing circles. “There, there, lad. I know it’s been a rough few quintants, but it’ll be alright.”

“Will it?” Shiro scrubbed at his face with his flesh hand. “You should have seen him, Coran. I don’t know if he’ll ever be able to trust any of us again.”

The adviser heaved a sigh. “I don’t know, either. I’m not sure if I would be able to trust us, if the roles were reversed. But perhaps, with time, we’ll be able to prove to him that we do, indeed, care for him.”

Once Shiro had cried himself out, Coran convinced him to go change out of his armor and possibly get something to eat. He was surprised to find all three of the other paladins sprawled out on the floor just outside the infirmary, remnants of snacks scattered around them and expectant looks on their faces.

“Well? Is he...okay?” Pidge asked tentatively.

Shiro sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Physically, it seems so. He’s stable for now, at least, and Coran thinks he’ll be fine. We just have to make sure his fever doesn’t get too high.”

They all nodded slowly, seeming lost in thought. He imagined they were all thinking about the “other than physically” part that he had failed to comment on.

Hunk cleared his throat. “Is he awake?”

He shook his head. “He’s been in and out, but he’s resting pretty peacefully for now.”

“We didn’t want to, you know, be in the way,” Lance supplied. “But you can let us know when it’s okay for us to see him. Or we can take turns watching out for him.”

“Alright. I’ll let you know.” Right now he couldn’t imagine leaving his side, not for longer than he was doing right now. As he started down the hall again toward his quarters, he met another unexpected presence - Allura, lurking just around the corner from where the paladins sat, looking abnormally anxious. He stopped abruptly, not sure he was ready to see her again yet.

“I heard your update,” she stated after a moment of awkward silence. When Shiro said nothing in return, she pursed her lips. “I suppose we have some more discussions ahead of us now.”

“No. We don’t.” Allura’s eyebrows flew up in surprise, but he didn’t give her time to respond. “There’s nothing to discuss. Either you accept Keith back as the Red Paladin...and treat him just as well as the other paladins, or he and I leave. Whether or not the others stay is up to them.” 

Allura’s brow furrowed, and she dropped her gaze to the floor with nothing else to say. Pushing past her, Shiro continued to his room, hurrying through changing so he could be back with Keith.

.o.0.O.0.o.

They would tell Keith later that he had been out of it for around two days before the fever broke. All he knew was that he woke up in the infirmary of the Castle with no memory of how he had gotten there, and assumed he must have been hallucinating again. He was actually a bit surprised that the wounds from that death beast hadn’t killed him yet...or maybe they had. Maybe this was some sort of purgatory or something, though the infirmary seemed like a strange choice.

It made a bit more sense when he turned his head to the right and saw Coran sitting there studying him. Seemed maybe he was going to have to face people he had failed in life before he could move on to whatever came next.

“Are you with us this time, my boy?”

Wrinkling his eyebrows at the strange question, Keith licked his dry lips with an equally dry tongue and tried to come up with something to say, but all that came out was a raspy, “What?”

Immediately Coran went into action, producing a hydration pack from somewhere nearby and holding the straw up to Keith’s lips. The cool liquid hit his throat like a slice of heaven, and he gulped greedily.

“Not too fast, now. Don’t want you making yourself sick.”

Keith nearly whined when the straw was pulled away, but he could already feel the liquid sloshing around inside of him, so it was probably for the best. Clearing his throat, he decided he could try talking again. “What am I doing here?”

“You were in pretty bad shape when the others found you. Something had torn your leg all up, and it had gotten infected. We couldn’t put you in a cryopod until your fever went down, which it seems it now has.”

His eyes darted around the cavernous white room. “So...this is real?”

The corner of Coran’s mouth tilted up. “Yes. It’s real.”

He had kinda suspected after the water. But that left one major question…“Why?”

Before Coran could respond, the door slid open, and Keith turned his head to see Shiro enter the room. The sight of his surrogate brother had him torn between happiness and a strange sense of dread, leaving him to clench the sheets in his fists and wait for some kind of reaction to come. Half of him expected it to be disgust, or anger, or maybe just an apathetic announcement of what his new punishment for existing was to be. 

Instead, Shiro’s face lit up with a happy, almost hopeful expression. “Keith?”

“Wait, is Keith awake?” another voice called from the hallway behind him. Lance’s head poked through the doorway, making Keith’s stomach clench, before he turned and yelled back down the hall. “Hey guys, Keith’s awake!”

All at once the infirmary was filled with almost all the people who hated him, all crowding around his bed and staring down at him with faces he couldn’t read. They were going to hurt him. He knew they would, why else would they have brought him back here? Obviously they had changed their minds and decided they had been too lenient. What were they going to do to him? How much pain would he be in now?

He couldn’t breathe. Suddenly it felt like that beast was sitting on top of him again, crushing his chest, and he struggled to draw in air through an open mouth while tears stung his eyes. His hands shook where they were still gripping the sheets. People were talking, but it sounded as if his ears were stuffed full of cotton and he couldn’t make out any of the words.

He almost didn’t notice when the crowd above him dispersed, but it did help his breaths start to come a little easier. Only there was still Shiro, and he still didn’t know where Shiro stood on any of this. The Black Paladin sat down next to the bed and tried to grasp his hand. Keith yanked it away.

“Don’t...don’t.”

“Okay. I won’t touch you. Do you know where you are?”

Of course he knew, that was the whole problem. “Yes.”

“Okay. You’re safe now, Keith.”

Safe. Yeah, right. There was no such thing as safe, not anymore. He had thought the Castle was safe, that these people were safe, but he had been wrong. “Why?”

Shiro looked at him in mild confusion before choosing what to say. “We made a mistake, leaving you there. We -”

Keith rolled away, tucking his hands up next to his chest, cringing at the pain that still radiated through his leg. He didn’t want to hear it explained, how they wanted to punish him further. Yet at the same time, he needed to know what was coming. 

“Keith…”

“Now?”

It had been a long time since Shiro had needed to interpret his one word sentences, but luckily it seemed he was still good at it. “Now you keep resting and getting better until we can put you in a pod for your leg.”

“Why?”

That one seemed to give him pause. “So...you’ll be well.”

Were they really going to prolong the torture like this? Make him get well before they did away with him? He curled up tighter. “Just...kill. Now.”

“Kill? Keith -”

“Please.”

The chair scraped across the floor, and Keith flinched. Footsteps came around the bed. He tensed, waiting for the blow. The air in front of his face stirred, and Shiro’s voice came from very close.

“Keith, can you look at me, please?” When he didn’t comply, Shiro put a hand on his fists and pulled them down so that they were face to face. “No one is going to kill you. No one is going to hurt you. You’re back on the Castle because we were wrong. They were wrong about you being untrustworthy, and I was wrong about my duty to Voltron being more important than my duty to you. I’m so, so sorry that I let them kick you out, and that I didn’t come after you sooner. You will always be more important to me than the rest of the universe. You’re my brother. I love you.”

Tears welled up in Keith’s eyes despite his reluctance to believe any of it. Tugging his hands out from under Shiro’s, he covered his face again, unable to respond.

Shiro let out a long, quiet sigh. “The others want to apologize, too, at some point. But for now you should try to get some more rest. You’re still recovering from the infection.”

He didn’t want to sleep. He didn’t trust that he wouldn’t be messed with while he was asleep. But his body decided for him that it was ready, drifting off without his permission.

.o.0.O.0.o.

Keith hadn’t really improved by the next couple of days. He slept some, he ate some, and his color and temperature seemed to be returning to normal. But he regarded everyone who came into the room with the wary stare of a cornered wild animal, and he still wasn’t speaking more than one or two words at a time, if that. Just as Shiro had feared, he had reverted back to the year that they had met, except worse. 

He tried to spend as much time in the infirmary with him as he could, hoping that the company would eventually coax him into relaxing. The other paladins still hadn’t gotten their chance to talk to him. Everyone, including Shiro, was afraid their presence would trigger another panic attack. He had already nearly gone into one when Hunk had delivered his breakfast that morning, and had been extra jumpy around Coran, too.

Shiro was eating his own breakfast, trying not to focus too much on the fact that Keith’s was just sitting there untouched, when he heard a telltale sniffle. Keith was sitting up, propped on some pillows against the wall, but his head was turned away from Shiro, as was pretty common. Even so, he could see the shimmer of a tear as it streaked down his face. Setting aside his bowl, he rounded the bed and settled down on the edge, expecting the flinch that followed but still hating it.

“Talk to me, Keith.”

He didn’t expect a response at all, and especially not a long one. But Keith angrily dashed the tears away, forever hating himself for ever crying, and spoke in a hoarse whisper. “Why didn’t you just leave me there?”

Shiro’s eyes widened. “What? Why?”

“I was almost dead. It would have all been over. You should have just left me there.”

Heart aching, he scooted in closer, though Keith leaned even further back away from him. “Keith, no. We don’t want you dead. We want you here, alive and well, with us. If you died, I...I thought you were dead, when I first saw you. And it was like...it was like my heart was being ripped out of my chest. I don’t know if I could survive it.”

Keith’s face, passive up until then, creased with a look of emotional pain that Shiro could hardly stand. “But why should I live? I’m...I’m Galra, Shiro. I’m one of them. But not even really Galra, just some cross-breed freak of nature. I never should have existed. Maybe that’s why my mother walked out on me, she knew I was a freak and she couldn’t stand to -”

“Stop it. Keith, stop.” He grabbed his shoulder and shook it, not caring at the moment whether it startled him. “Don’t talk about yourself like that. You are not defined by who your parents or grandparents or anyone else were. You are you. You are Keith Kogane, Red Paladin of Voltron, best pilot at the Galaxy Garrison. You’re a survivor. You’re a fighter. Not because you have Galra blood, but because the universe has thrown every hard thing that it could think of at you and you’re still standing strong.”

“I’m not standing strong, don’t you see me?” Keith met his eyes finally, a tiny bit of his old spark of anger visible. “I’m pathetic. Maybe I was the Red Paladin, maybe I was a survivor and a fighter, but right now I don’t think I can be any of those things. I don’t want to fight anymore, Shiro. I’m tired of surviving. I just want…” He broke down into tears again, covering his face with his hands.

Moving over closer, Shiro wrapped his arms around his brother and pulled him in tight. “You want what?”

Keith’s shoulders shuddered beneath him. “I don’t want to be here. I don’t trust any of them. I can’t trust any of them.”

“I know.” 

For a long time, they sat together like that, Keith’s face buried in Shiro’s chest while he cried out all his tears. Shiro ran his fingers through his hair, trying desperately to come with anything he could say to comfort him. 

“Do you think you could listen to them, if they come and talk to you? Just one at a time, not everyone at once. I know they’re really anxious to speak to you, and I think it might do you some good, too.” Or at least he hoped.

It took him a minute to answer. “I don’t know.”

“Okay. Well, it doesn’t have to be now. But I’d like you to consider it.”

Keith just nodded.

.o.0.O.0.o.

He had been in bed for days. The infection was all but gone, there was no longer any danger in putting him in a pod, and doing so had been brought up a couple of times. But Shiro and Coran must have noticed how he shrank into himself every time it was mentioned, because they dropped the subject and just continued to let him stay there. 

He didn’t want to go in a pod. Being forced unconscious for who knew how many hours or days was just too vulnerable, and he already felt that way far too much, anyway. After all, he was stuck in bed in the middle of a ship full of people who hated him. He was pretty confident that Shiro would try his best to protect him, and Coran might, too. The Altean had taken the time to sit down and apologize to him for his role in the whole mess, and based on the way he had been treating him Keith was fairly sure he could be trusted. 

But that left four others, all who had weapons, one of whom had some kind of weird magic and was literally connected to the Castle. He didn’t feel safe, and he hated it. There hadn’t been many places in his life that he had been able to truly let down his guard and feel safe. A foster home or two, though later on he had become so jaded that even the good ones didn’t feel like they would last. The Garrison to some extent, at least as long as Shiro was there.

And the Castle. Yeah, there was always the chance of an attack, and there had been the couple of times that someone had snuck on board without them knowing. But in all of those situations he had known that there were people around who had his back, people that he could count on. It was the most at home he had felt since Shiro had left for Kerberos.

Now it was those very same people that he was afraid of, as stupid and weak as that made him. The thought was almost laughable. Him? Afraid of Lance, Hunk, and Pidge? But he couldn’t get the hatred he had seen in some of their eyes out of his head. Couldn’t forget the venom in their voices. Couldn’t erase all the times he had watched them, hallucinations or not, show up in that cave with insults on their lips and weapons in their hands, ready to make him pay for the crime of being part Galra.

He didn’t want to talk to them. But he knew that Shiro really wanted him to, and that meant he would have to do it sooner or later. Maybe if he went ahead and got it over with, they’d leave him alone more, and then when his leg was healed enough that he could actually walk it’d be easier to leave. He hadn’t figured out where he was going - definitely not back to Borulmyte - or how he’d get there, but leaving was the best option for everybody.

“Will you...stay? If I let them…”

Once again, Shiro knew exactly what he was talking about, despite the question being out of the blue. “Of course. I’ll be right here with you the whole time.”

Sinking back into the pillows, Keith hugged himself. “Okay.”

Shiro smiled softly. “Okay. I’ll send them a message and let them know you’re ready.”

Hunk was the first to come in. He burst into tears pretty much as soon as he walked through the door and saw Keith, and cried so much the whole time that his many, many apologies could barely be understood. It made Keith uncomfortable, if he was honest. He had never known how to deal with tears, his own or anyone else’s. But Hunk was so obviously genuine and straightforward, and he had always had a hard time believing that there was any part of such a loving person that could have held such malice. 

“I get it.” It took everything in him to force multiple words out, but he knew he had to this time. “It’s hard to...stand up. When...everyone else...disagrees. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not okay, it’s so not okay!” Hunk blubbered. “I don’t know if it would have done any good for me to say anything or not, but I still should have done it.”

Keith nodded. “Okay. You’re right. It wasn’t okay. But…” He took a deep breath. “I forgive you.”

The way Hunk’s face lit up was totally worth the difficulty of saying the words. “Really, man? Thank you. Like, really, thank you, you don’t know how happy that makes me. I know we’ve never been, like, the best of friends, but I’ve always really wanted to get to know you better, I mean if you’d be okay with that, it’s totally up to you, but maybe sometime when you’re feeling better we can like, hang out? Also I know you haven’t been eating much right now but I am definitely making you brownies when you feel up to eating them. Like, a ton of brownies. All the brownies I can possibly make. Hey, maybe you could help me make the brownies! Cooking is such a good way to bond, I can’t believe I haven’t thought of it before! What do you think, does that sound okay? Or I mean, if you really don’t want to hang out with me at all, I totally understand that, too, I just -”

“Hunk.” Keith’s lips twitched upward slightly as the breathless Yellow Paladin finally screeched to a halt. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

Hunk beamed. “Great! Okay, I’m gonna like, go, and let somebody else come in here, ‘cause, yeah. Feel better, Keith!”

When the room was empty again, Shiro leaned over and squeezed his hand. “How do you feel?”

“Good.” He was surprised to find it was actually pretty true. A small burden had been lifted from his chest.

“Good. You ready for Lance or Pidge?”

Keith’s heart started beating double time again. “Lance.” Even though he had been more active in the process of his condemnation, Pidge’s response had hurt the worst.

The boy that came into the infirmary wasn’t the Lance that Keith knew. He couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off the floor, or his hands, or anything but Keith and Shiro, and when he spoke his voice was so soft it was barely audible. 

“I don’t know why I did it.” He picked at a loose thread on his jeans. “I just get...so emotional, so caught up in the moment sometimes...I’m really just as much of a hothead as you are.”

If his demeanor and apology hadn’t caught Keith’s attention, that statement did. Lance, admitting he was as bad as Keith at something? “Thought that was because...I’m Galra.”

Lance’s face pinched. “Yeah. I said some pretty stupid things. I mean…” He shrugged. “Who knows, maybe it is because you’re Galra. But still, it’s...you’re just you. And that’s okay. Maybe we don’t always get along, but I don’t really think you’re evil. I mean, I guess I kinda thought you could be. It was stupid, though. I’m an idiot, that’s what I’m getting at. There’s no real explanation, just...I’m sorry, like I said.”

Part of Keith wanted to accept that. Part of him didn’t think he could. “I...thanks. For apologizing. I think...maybe I can forgive you...soon? Maybe not yet. But, yeah. Soon.”

Lance nodded. “That’s fair. I didn’t really expect you to, like, at all, so…” He finally flicked his eyes up to meet Keith’s. “I think you and I could use to work on some things, anyway. Like, you know, not acting like we hate each other. Because I don’t. Hate you, that is. And I’m...pretty sure based on what Coran said that you don’t hate me, either.”

“No. I don’t. And yeah, that...that sounds good.”

“Okay. Good.” A brief smile flashed over his face, then he nodded again and excused himself.

“You still doing okay?”

Keith pressed his lips together. “Think so. I’m nervous, though. About Pidge.”

Shiro smiled sympathetically. “I know. Just give her a chance, ‘kay?”

Pidge shuffled into the room in a very similar fashion to Lance, eyes on the floor. She perched on the very edge of the chair that each paladin had occupied, kicking her feet back and forth since they didn’t quite touch the floor. In a low voice, she said her apology and explained that she had let her hurt over her family get the best of her, but insisted that it didn’t excuse her blaming him. 

It took a moment longer than the others for him to find his words. “I remember what it was like...missing somebody. Believing that they were still out there, but not knowing for sure. I mean, it wasn’t my actual family...unless you count my mom, which...at least I knew she chose to leave. So, she’s...probably fine.” Just didn’t want him. “But Shiro is the closest thing I’ve had to family since...since my Pops. And it’s hard. I mean, I kinda went ballistic, broke into a commanding officer’s office, punched a bunch of other officers, and got kicked out of the Garrison.”

“You what?” Shiro broke in, sitting forward, then realized his interruption and sat back, waving a hand. “Never mind. Sorry. We’ll talk later.”

Pidge snickered a little, and Keith took that as encouragement to continue. “But, yeah. I know how hard it is, and I would never, never wish that on someone else.”

Her head popped up, eyes wide and wet behind her glasses. “I know you wouldn’t. I know...I know you didn’t have anything to do with it, I never should have said something like that. You...you’re right, you understand probably more than anyone else, and I…” She trailed off, ducking her head as tears spilled down her cheeks.

Once again, there was someone crying in front of him, and he didn’t know what to do. But he was pretty sure what any of the other paladins would have offered in this situation, so… “Do you, um...need a...hug?”

The next thing he knew he had an armful of Pidge, curled up on the bed next to him and leaving tears and snot all over his shirt. He patted her back awkwardly. “You’ll find them. I know you will.”

“Why are you comforting me? I’m supposed to be in here helping you to feel better, this is not how this is supposed to work!”

Keith frowned. “Um...sorry?”

Pidge glared at him, not at all intimidating with her sopping wet face. “No, don’t apologize, that’s my job, too!” 

“Sorry!”

She punched him in the ribs. “You’re a good hugger. Why are you such a good hugger.”

Keith was just getting more confused the longer this conversation went on. “I...don’t know? It certainly isn’t from practice.”

Tilting her head back, she narrowed her eyes at him as if she could see into his mind. “Do you not like hugs?”

“No, I...do.”

“Then I’m gonna hug you. Every day. From now on.”

“Aw, can I get Keith hugs every day, too?” 

Keith startled a little bit when he realized that Hunk and Lance had returned to the room, but forced himself to relax. This was okay. They weren’t going to hurt him. They had all been very open with him, and even though it was going to take some time, he thought he could learn to trust them again.

“I...guess?”

“Yay!” Hunk settled onto the end of the bed, and Lance took the now empty chair, folding his long legs up into it. Shiro scooted forward again to be in Keith’s line of vision.

“How are you feeling now? Think maybe you can keep surviving a little longer?”

He felt Pidge tense in his arms, and Hunk’s face froze while Lance’s went carefully blank. Keith swallowed. “Yeah. I think...maybe I’m ready for that pod now. So I can finally get out of this bed and...I don’t know, kinda figure this out all over again.”

Shiro ruffled his hair fondly. “I’m glad. We’ll all be there with you for every step, okay?”

There was one more question, though. “What about Allura?”

Shiro’s face darkened slightly. “I’ve already told her she can either treat you the same as everyone else, or we’re leaving.”

“Nah, we won’t leave,” Pidge piped up. “There’s more of us than there are of her now. We’ll just stage a mutiny.”

Keith laughed awkwardly. “Somehow I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”

“I don’t think so, either, because I think she’ll come around,” Lance said. “But the point is, Mullet...we’re gonna support you.”

“You’re part of the Space Family now, dude!” Hunk cheered.

“Exactly,” Shiro smiled. “And Space Family has to stick together.”

The others kept chattering quietly, someone throwing in something about “ohana” in a weird voice, which triggered a whole conversation about some movie that he didn’t care about keeping up with. Closing his eyes, Keith let his body truly relax for the first time since before going to the Blade. 

And he felt safe.

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

Thanks so much to everyone who joined me this month!!! This was my first ever Tumblr writing challenge, and it was a blast. You guys are what made it so much fun, with all the comments and likes and reblogs! Thank you!

If you want more Keith whump from me sometime in the future, you  can follow me on here, on FFN, or follow the series "In which I whump Keith" on AO3...and if you haven't read Abyss yet (my first Keith whump fic!), you should check it out!

Happy Halloween and Happy Whumping!

[sigritandtheelves]

Three Iterations of a Birth (and Death)

One: Tragedy

PG-13 | 1k wds | s8 AU; TW: character death; major angst

A/N: This is the first in a series of three retellings of the ending of season 8 (in my neverending quest to tell every possible version of that arc). This one is… terrible. The worst. A thought experiment in deep suffering. Each iteration will be lighter than the previous, but I fully understand not wanting to read this one. 😬 Maybe think of it as an antidote to fluff? It came into my head and I couldn’t not write it, but I promise that the triptych will end happily.

--

In his mind there was a logic of risk and reward. There had always been the wild drive toward action over affect, a sword torn through the world rather than the quiet sensing of its dark places. Fight, chase, pursue. Do not think about what is happening in the hospital bed. Act, don’t feel.

Once upon a time, Melissa Scully had chastised him for this avoidance while standing in his darkened foyer. He had heard her and, out of guilt, obeyed. He had gone to that quiet room and touched Dana’s cool fingers and shoved down his compulsion to run long enough to offer her a handful of words before she died. After Melissa was gone, no one held him accountable in that way again. Sometimes Scully’s eyes would seem to whisper please stay, but these words she never voiced aloud. He found it all too easy to turn his gaze from the pleading. Elsewhere there were answers, were possible miracle cures, were men who might be intimidated or punished.

His risk had always yielded reward. Answers about her stolen ova, a cure for cancer, a green vial (unwanted) for her dying child. She was still alive, wasn’t she? And by his side, no less.

“I won’t let you go alone,” she’d said to him before the final trip to Bellefleur. The truth they both knew was that she could not have made him stay. Risk and reward. He might have realized his luck had run out, to be put through this grave (ha ha) adventure. But he was still here. You act as though you’re surprised, his flippant comment, despite the years-old ache on her face. He refused to look at her wet eyes. He cut her off when she tried to explain. There were government buildings to break into, secrets to know. He would look anywhere but at the suffering.

How stupid, how arrogant. He’d felt the moon and stars bend their arc around his presence, the gods smirking at his antics, fate shaking its head and laughing. You’re not prince Hamlet, the old man had said once. He’d been right in that Fox Mulder was no lynchpin of mythic story, but this was a tragedy nonetheless.

He’d put her in that car never thinking—

Stop.

His ears buzzed and there was constriction in his chest as if someone were pressing weight onto it. The room around him was as close to sensory deprivation as one could get: oatmeal grey walls, dim light for his unpredictable pupils, and silence. A darker dim was the only way he knew it was night. Too bad he could pull at his restraints and feel his own wrists. Too bad he could smell himself, like sweat and the oil from his skin and desperation. All the suffering he’d ever looked away from, he paid for now. He was forced to feel its infinite redoubling in this room where he could look nowhere but at his own deserved misery. It was not guilt he felt, but a murderous rage toward himself. Every flare of anger he’d turned on serial killers or complicit men of the shadow conspiracy—this anger swallowed it all, crunched it beneath the Goliath boot of self-hatred.

Over and over he watched in his mind that desperate look on her face (please stay) as he practically shoved her into a stranger’s rental car without a single word of either regret or love. Their separation was his sacrifice, his payment for the truth and her safety. He had monsters to slay and answers to find. No time for hospitals (she’d been alright, not poisoned) or ba—

No.

The record rips to a halt again but the ghost scent of blood hovers in his nostrils. The sight of Monica Reyes beaten and unconscious on the floor of a Georgia cabin flashes in his mind. Any outcome but their tearful reunion was unfathomable. This was his story and she was meant to be in it. He’d taken the risk; he deserved the reward.

In truth the universe kept no balance sheet, least of all in the currency of his faux bravery. She was not his destined companion and he had not forged their promised future with his quest.

In that dirt-road town he’d seen a string of glassy-eyed automatons, but none were carrying the bundle of his child. As he approached its gaping doorway, no infant cries came from the cabin either. It was quiet like death and smelled that way too.

“Sc—“ he couldn’t finish her name when he stepped inside. This was a hallowed place. Or cursed. Monica was a crumpled ball of limbs on the floor, Dana a red pile of rags on the bed. His legs would not move him. A small camp lantern and four candles—that’s all the light she’d had in the place she’d been made to give birth.

He tried to turn the image off, to make his mind’s eye look away, but could not. This was his torment now. Every morning on waking and in his dreams too: the bone white of her shoulder, her cheek, in that mountain of red. The helicopter pilot had found him there some minutes later: dead-eyed and staring, slumped on the floor before her. Through the sea-crash waves of blood in his ears and his own internal denials, he heard the man’s Oh Jesus fucks and his panicked rush back to the chopper to radio for help. It took four men to get Mulder out.

Much later, when Monica was able to talk, the only thing she’d said about it was, “One of them was impatient. He wouldn’t... it wouldn’t wait.”

Mulder could not think what unspeakable things that meant for his partner. The word gutted him. Partner. Is that what he had been? What kind of man puts his partner, let alone his—

The black wave came, dragging him under. When his mind got too full, it made him sleep and he was sometimes grateful and sometimes angrier for it. Don’t make me see. But he deserved to look at what he’d done.

There’d been no infant in the cabin.

There’d been two broken women, one alive.

Against his will, he slept.

[nctbythemoon]

     hello,  hello,  fellow  aliens  !  you  can  call  me  nochu  n  i  reside  on  the  gmt+1  timezone  (  i  was  hella  confused  for  a  moment  about  openin,  i’m  not  very  smart  )  .  either  way,  my  discord  is  𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙡𝙮 𝙞'𝙢 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙨𝙝#6348  so  if  you  rather  there  ...  ya  know,  i’m  all  in  !  either  way,  hang  with  me  while  i  try  to  uncover  this  paradox

     ˙✫*ﾟJEON JUNGKOOK,  MALE  ,  HE/HIM  :･ did  you  hear atlas moon is  joining  the  cast  of  exposed  after  word of an orgy house party  was  revealed  ?  the  twenty-four  year  old  musician  with 10m is  trying  to  clear  their  name  .  they've  become  known  as  the  resident  bohemian  in  the  mansion  ,  and  it's  clear  that's  spot  on  because  they're  quite -  obsessive & -  possessive ,  but  also +  charismatic &  +  creative .  you  know  they're  heading  to  the  confession  booth  if  you  hear  if you can’t hang  by  sleeping with sirens  blasting  ,  most  likely  talking  about  how  they're  more  than half  tattooed  sleeves  enlaced  with  intoxicated  drinks  and  loud  music,  quiet  studios  filled  with  troubling  thoughts,  empty  hospitals  at  5am,  half  -  drunk  whiskey  bottles  and  unfinished  manuscripts  with  coffee  stains .

          triggers  might  include  :  heavy  drugs,  schizophrenia,  anxiety,  neglect,  toxic  relationship,  attempted  suicide,  death

full  name  :  moon  joonhyun

nicknames  /  stage  name  :  atlas  moon,  moon,  moonie

age  :  twenty  -  four

date  of  birth  :  april  25th  1996

zodiac  sign  :  taurus  sun,  capricorn  moon,  gemini  rising

place  of  birth  :  busan,  south  korea

occupation  :  songwriter  /  singer  /  performer

claims  :  patrick  stump  (  fall  out  boy  ),  jungkook’s  covers  (  because  ...  they’re  gorge  )

tattoos  :  jungkook’s  tattoos  (  reference,  reference,  reference  )

piercings  :  tongue  piercing

romantic  orientation  :  panromantic

sexual  orientation  :  demiromantic

mental  illness  :  schizophrenia,  anxiety

     brief  family  history  (  triggers  :  schizophrenia,  anxiety,  neglect,  attempt  suicide,  death  )

unlike  many  think,  atlas  was  born  in  south  korea  ;  youngest  to  of  three  ,  one  could  discuss  the  moon’s  were  never  truly  happy  .  since  early  age  atlas  was  forced  to  understand  his  mother  was  extremely  ill  and  that  most  were  times  where  she  would  express  her  anger  towards  him  than  love  .  but  whatever  love  wasn’t  given,  it  was  replaced  by  the  many  nannies  and  many  material  items  they  were  drowned  with

their  father  was  always  too  busy  working,  merging  with  international  companies  and  searching  for  the  best  medical  treatments  for  his  mother  ,  so  they  barely  saw  him  either  ,  finding  comfort  with  each  other  and  the  maids  ,  trying  to  grow  apart  from  that  world  that  was  his  mother’s.  yet  it  was  quite  impossible  ,  as  the  several  treatments  pulled  them  apart  from  korea  and  all  over  the  world  .  but  alas,  his  mother’s  health  was  more  important

schizophrenia  trigger  //  but  something  felt  odd  to  atlas  and  it  started  very  early  as  well  .  however  busy  his  mind  seemed  to  be  with  other  things  ,  voices  ,  energies  ,  always  seemed  to  pull  him  to  his  mother’s  room  .  not  in  search  of  love  ,  of  comfort  ,  but  in  pure  hatred  .  he  couldn’t  help  it  ,  these  voices  and  delusions  mostly  told  him  to  end  the  family’s  issue  ;  and  one  day  ,  he  tried  ,  finally  caving  to  them  .  but  at  the  same  time  ,  he  wasn’t  ready  to  see  what  he  saw

attempt  suicide  trigger  //  blood  ,  all  red  ,  against  the  purest  of  skins  .  atlas  was  only  seven  years  old  when  he  found  his  mother  trying  to  commit  suicide  .  for  the  next  ten  minutes  ,  he  stood  there  ,  unable  to  think  through  .  and  then  ,  a  shout  ,  but  not  belonging  to  him  .  his  older  brother  was  quick  ,  oh  so  quick  ,  to  cover  his  eyes  and  pull  him  out  of  the  room  ,  but  the  damage  was  done  :  atlas  had  been  in  there  for  to  long  .  his  father,  a  strict  but  caring  man  ,  was  quick  to  hire  a  therapist  for  his  youngest  ,  but  oh  ,  how  many  more  trouble  would  that  arise  

schizophrenia  trigger  //   the  voices  .  when  someone  asks  you  what  made  you  go  to  that  room  ,  when  being  told  since  birth  not  to  ,  the  last  thing  you  should  answer  is  the  voices  .  but  a  young  child  like  atlas  did  intend  to  lie  ,  did  not  know  it  wasn’t  normal  .  nor  the  therapist  ever  told  him  directly  ,  scribbling  away  on  her  notepad  ,  but  later  ,  much  later  ,  after  several  testing  ,  the  terrible  words  were  spoken  .  joohyun  is  schizophrenic  .  yes  ,  like  his  mother  .  it  was  more  than  his  father  could  take  .  one  ?  he  could  handle  .  but  two  ?  no  boy  of  his  would  have  it  .  atlas  was  then  sent  to  psychiatric  hospital  ,  away  from  everyone

atlas  spent  seven  years  on  that  hospital  (  from  7  to  14  )  ,  alone  and  isolated  from  the  world  .  the  only  people  he  came  in  contact  with  were  the  maids  and  his  elder  brothers  when  they  could  escape  ,  but  his  father  never  visited  .  that  grew  resent  and  strain  in  their  relationship  ,  but  atlas  found  peace  in  the  two  things  the  hospital  supported  :  drawing  and  music  .  self  -  taught  himself  to  play  the  piano  and  guitar  and  took  weekly  violin  classes,  to  better  express  his  hatred  and  less  than  ideal  emotions  .  in  a  way  ,  he  was  the  best  -  behaved  patient  they  had  and  with  some  convincing  and  medication  ,  the  hospital  convinced  his  father  to  give  him  home  again  ,  to  let  him  live  a  normal  life  .  he  finally  accepted

death  trigger  //  there  was  a  catch  ,  however  .  the  only  reason  why  he  was  allowed  home  was  because  his  mother  had  passed  .  despite  hating  everything  about  his  father  ,  he  attended  the  funeral  out  of  respect  for  his  brothers,  promising  himself  he  would  never  let  his  life  out  of  control  like  his  mother  had  .  he  was  enrolled  in  the  same  private  school  as  his  brothers  and  the  three  agreed  to  conceal  the  fact  he  had  spent  the  last  7  years  in  an  “  asylum  “  and  he  adapted  pretty  decently

his  social  skills  weren’t  as  damaged  as  he  thought  and  he  got  himself  involved  with  sports  and  art  ,  forming  the  band  would  become  fallen  ,  making  sure  he  kept  up  with  his  studies  ,  but  again  ,  tragedy  struck  again

death  trigger  //  his  older  brother  ,  liam  ,  was  killed  in  a  car  accident  ,  taking  all  the  breath  and  floor  from  atlas  .  their  elder  sibling  had  always  taken  care  of  them  ,  making  sure  the  communication  between  him  and  his  father  were  clean  ,  among  many  other  things  ,  and  it  was  gone  .  atlas  took  it  very  personally  ,  going  without  his  medication  and  resorting  to  other  ways  to  numb  that  pain  ,  almost  failing  to  graduate  .  his  life  turned  around  in  2  seconds  and  his  father  finally  was  ready  to  send  him  back  to  the  hospital  ,  but  this  time  ,  atlas  was  ready

leaving  home  was  one  of  the  best  decisions  he  took  ,  crashing  at  one  of  his  bandmate’s  homes  .  this  situation  only  lasted  a  couple  of  months  ,  as  a  scout  found  them  in  one  of  their  underground  performances  and  was  quick  to  sign  them  .  atlas  quickly  kept  spiraling  down

     thus  the  orgy  story  ...

it  wasn’t  meant  to  blow  up  .  whenever  his  brother’s  death  comes  around  ,  he  does  anything  to  just  stop  the  pain  .  he  knows  very  well  he  can’t  use  drugs  to  the  point  of  overdosing  but  he  also  can’t  deal  with  himself  .  not  when  his  own  illness  feeds  into  his  pain  ,  increasing  ,  especially  if  he  drops  his  meds  .  which  he  does  ,  too  often  .  he  was  a  little  too  high  when  a  phone  was  turned  on  ,  he  didn’t  realized  that  flash  was  of  someone  filming  ,  taking  pictures  ,  and  his  pleased  smile  just  becomes  so  much  prominent  among  warm  bodies  and  loud  sounds  .  was  his  label  even  surprised  ?  not  anymore  ,  but  they  needed  to  improve  his  image  .  fast  .

     small  details  about  his  personality  ?

he  doesn’t  take  his  meds  .  nope  .  but  if  you  tell  him  to  take  his  meds  ?  he’s  gonna  sulk  all  day

not  that  many  people  know  he  suffers  from  it

doesn’t  like  shoes  for  life  of  it  .  if  he  can  go  barefoot  ?  he  will  ,  without  a  second  thought

much  life  of  the  party  ,  much  nice  and  much  liking  to  have  fun  ,  however  his  mood  falls  really  quick  out  of  nowhere  ;  check  him  locking  himself  in  his  room  if  this  happens  ?  he  doesn’t  allow  anyone  to  see  him  like  that

will  kill  for  his  friends

his  fans  are  his  family  ;  cares  so  deeply  for  them  ,  loves  interacting  with  them  ,  just  overall  thriving

black  clothes  ,  black  hair  ,  black  everything

tattoos  are  his  healing  process

     well  ,  this  sucked  so  much  ,  please  bare  with  me  ,  i  promise  i  plot  good  (  do  u  rlly  ,  nochu  )  .  SO  .  yea  .  do  it  .

[glitterdammerung]

I just sort of feel like... well. What Robbe said last Friday was crappy, there’s no escaping that (not a writing choice I would have made, but, someone did and now here we are). It sucked, it was horrific. He did seem to regret it as soon as he said it, based on his trembling and immediate lashing out at Milan and then isolating himself. And he was a whole entire mess last week, struggling with his self-hatred and the guilt he felt about being awful to people, and his failure to be “normal” with Noor.

That talk with Milan didn’t “fix” him just like that apology today didn’t really “fix” things with Sander. But I think there is a certain relief that Robbe felt after that talk. Probably he’s never had anyone he knew personally say the words, “of course you’re normal.” He’s been beating himself up, and now someone he knows, who knows what they’re talking about, has given him permission to stop. That kind of relief... I remember it. It goes to your head. You know who you are all of a sudden (you have no idea, either, how this will change in the future, ahahahaha, life is a river). That kind of euphoria gives you a pretty big boost. So yeah! He can go out and make what is for him the big gesture of making up to Sander! He can smooch this cute guy right in public! HELL YEAH ENDORPHINS, THEY ARE GREAT AND THEY DO MAKE YOU A LITTLE RASH AND IMPULSIVE SOMETIMES. MY NAME IS ROBBE IJZERMANS AND I AM GOING TO FIX EVERYTHING THAT IS WRONG AND I CERTAINLY DON’T SEE HOW ANY DECISION I MAKE COULD TURN OUT TO BE PERHAPS A MISTAKE AT ALL! ALSO I AM ROBBE SO I WILL TRY HARD TO BE NICE ABOUT IT.

He’s giddy and hopped up on his own relief, which can be a powerful drug - as powerful as being shut up in a beach house with a cute guy for a week, having his charismatic attention frequently laser focused on you, as powerful as your first kiss with that cute boy suddenly tearing down the last barrier in your brain that wouldn’t let you acknowledge why kissing your cute girlfriend wasn’t as nice as you knew it was supposed to be. Robbe has been swinging from one emotional extreme to another - and Willem H is really working hard to sell that. It’s mostly working, I think he’s being done a disservice by SOME of the writing choices, but for the most part I think he’s really showing his internal conflicts and swings and roundabouts of going from self-hatred to self-understanding pretty well. I particularly like how Willem really performs the struggle of Robbe allowing himself to speak with any freedom. We’ve seen since season one that it’s really hard for Robbe to do that.

So we’re really in for it when the crash hits, aren’t we?

(also yes, you are allowed to criticize your media and you should question it, I think people are just hurt when the blunt statements of “this is bad writing” are not tempered with “in my opinion” because it does, on the internet, come off as “this is bad writing and if you like it you have terrible taste” which certainly some people might mean but most probably do not... alas! the internet)

[tres-fidelis]

That music drifting from where ever that pearl lingered was ever nagging at the back of Emet-Selch's head. But his focus remained on the human sat upon the floor, whose tears were coming freely now it seemed. And that gaze was ever sharp. He hummed low, and brought that hand back. Both of his gloved hands laced together while elbows rested on his knees where he crouched. "Ah now that is both the right, and wrong, question. What do I want?"

There was a pause, as Emet-Selch’s expression soured. Becoming a grimace, and eyes getting flooded with madness for just a few moments. “Why, I crave the Rejoining of course. Rejoin all worlds and souls! Revive the world as it should be! Bring back our beloved god, our primal, Zodiark. Bring back our HOME. Our PEOPLE.” Emet then paused and shook his head. Golden eyes sharpening, and he VERY much looked as if he had an internal struggle. Hands gripping them selves tightly.

He muttered quietly. “But that, is just the tempering talking, the infection of my soul. My madness bubbling from eons of loneliness and distress. This pain in my breast never eases through the many millennia.” He spoke, voice calming to his somber and gentle tone. One hand lifting and rubbing against the side of his skull. “But, personally? What do I want for me? I want my friends back, my found family. I want my dearest love back, my wonderful intelligent companions and friendships.”

“In this world, the touch of one known as Hydaelyn does not reach. The corruption of any gods can not touch here. This place has become it’s own Source, become it’s own time and reality. And your souls are so Strong. So much possibility. You are all truly free from what plagues others. And I– I’m sorry. Perhaps being around mortals too much as broken me. I’ll show my self out.” Emet-Selch slowly stood up. The motion shaking. Shoulders slumped more than usual, a weight settled upon them.

No more cutting corners. No more weaving fluff around the obvious questions. Jayden demanded these answers not to ease her racing mind, but to complete his vast puzzle. Emet strode into this world as an obvious enigma, out of place yet knowing so much about how everything worked. He knew about reploids, he knew about the mishaps plaguing their peace, and on a more personal level Emet knew her. 

If Emet sought out the friends and companions he ventured with long ago, did that mean he knew Shaska? Or Sentinel? They were both at the submarine crash where Emet assisted her best friend out of the damaged machinery. But if that were the case…if Emet knew them in another life…

Shaska and Sentinel are reploids. Their inner structures and workings were entirely different from humans, including the build of their own souls. They had free will yes, but human souls contrasted from the way reploid souls worked. Could…could that mean?

While the gears worked overtime, Jayden kept attention on Emet’s expression and falling mood. A strange color flashed in his eyes, something she hadn’t seen before. His voice rose above Shroud’s gentle tune, thunderous, almost…deranged. She stayed in place but folded her legs up covering her chest as Emet took on a unforeseen personality. No longer gentle, hardly proud or cocky, but a unforeseen lunacy. A primal god? Spouting new nonsense? The fear came back full throttle, and before she could tap into her watch to call for help…he stopped.

It was just a brief moment of…a completely different Emet. His softspoken tone returned but Jayden hadn’t opened up again. Emotions ran at a high mixing in a disgusting cocktail, making her stomach churn violently and body tremble looking at the regal man. There’s one thing to point out now: he knelt down to her eye level, speak on her own grounds. Just to…keep her calm? Keep her together?

All he uttered, all the truths he pulled from himself, the loneliness he’s felt for several…thousands of years, the pain he’s burdened from all of it…something kicked her. Something deep down kicked her hard in the bubbling pit of her stomach. What a horrible…excruciating pain to bear, and for someone who called themselves immortal…

…it’s not anything like the weight Jayden carried on a daily basis, but she could level with Emet to some degree. At least he had friends at some point in his life. That opportunity never came around for her during the crucial years of her life. No, all she had to experience was pain, hatred, distrust, even death. There were times she desperately could start over again but…she looked at herself now. The people whom she considered friends now, the work and her own ambitions slowly etching into her mold, right now Jayden made a name for herself. 

But Emet. No one knew him here, and it’s likely no one else knew him in the other worlds. He’s a true vagrant, one lone soul passing through time, day by day trekking with only one purpose in mind, but carrying his lost ones along the ride. He had no one to turn to, no one to talk with other than herself and Shaska. 

…but he has no home. 

He’s all by himself. 

“Wait.” 

It happened suddenly. Jayden threw herself up, reached out to grab his sleeve, and even shouted without thinking it through. Once she realized her sudden outburst the reporter stepped back letting him go. Both arms swayed by her side, head hung down and eyes shut in thought. 

Two arguments threw themselves on her table. On one hand, Jayden did not fully trust this man after recent events. He still held an air of suspicion, and yes she did tack in his overly arrogant demeanor in the mix. Shaska did not approve of him either, meaning they’d keep their distance with him. Yet on the other hand, on top of everything else that came to mind, Emet possessed valuable information. Jayden wouldn’t admit either, at least not yet, but she rather enjoyed their conversations so far. 

Whatever her decision, it’d be all on her when the consequences came knocking at her door. 

With a deep, slow inhale the human rose up standing at full height, shoulders turned back and her autumn colored eyes holding, for once, a kind gaze towards Emet. 

“….listen. I…I don’t trust you very much. You’ve become a suspicious figure both to myself and to my friend. I’m…I’m not sure what she even thinks of you but…” A long sigh, where both hands curled into fists then loosened on the exhale. “…I…can’t lie in saying that I have…become rather fond of your company. Even if I’ve appeared very cold or…unfriendly to you, it’s been…rather refreshing exchanging these conversations. For that I…do want to apologize. Like I said before, there’s not a lot of people to trust around here these days. Sometimes you have to look after yourself, otherwise the next day your family will find you in the obituaries.” 

A sad truth. A harsh reality to live in, to grow up learning and embracing. 

“But…I’m trying to make it better. Me, my co-workers, the friends I’ve somehow made, we want it all to change. We just want peace, equality among reploids, and we want that trust back.” At this Jayden took one, very careful step forward and raised a hand to Emet. Her palm out, warmly inviting him for a friendly shake should he accept. 

“I’m still completely perplexed about…my former life, how I somehow knew you, or even how you were able to find me but, there’s one thing I promised to myself as I grew up. I could never let anyone…no matter who they were…experience any kind of loneliness. No one should ever in their lifetime embrace it all by themselves, and for you? To carry that with you for so long?”

“…you need someone, and though I said I don’t fully trust you, I don’t mind if you were to come and chat with me again. If you’re here all by yourself, stuck in an unfamiliar world where you have no one to turn to, I’d…at least would like there to be one person you can call on.” 

[frickfracksnatchisback]

You’re Worthless (AGIT AU-Part 2)

Hello there! Totally didn’t miscalculate how long it would take me to edit the second bit, but here we are! Also, I have some things to tell you. First, go check out @shaykai / @hatsparadox if you haven’t already! Amazing blogs run by an amazing person! Second, WARNING! If you’re not a fan of physical harm or abuse, don’t read this. I’m serious, it gets pretty dark.

But if you love tons of angst, enjoy! ;)

***

It didn’t take him long to purchase the flowers. The android running the shop was very polite and did her job quickly. And that gave him plenty of time to take a leisurely stroll back to the manor.

He was spending his time taking in the sights and sounds of the town around him. He never really got out of the manor too often, at least not on his own like this. He mostly stayed in Vanessa’s room or, if he was given permission, he would walk around the grounds of the manor. So being on his own like this was exciting and he wished could last longer. He watched as other robots and humans would pass by him and he would wave to them in a friendly manner. Of course this got him a couple of odd glances, but he didn’t mind. It was rather odd for an android to be walking around with no owner. But it made him feel freer in a way, like he was the only one in control.

“This is so nice.” he said to himself as he was nearing the manor. “I should ask Vanessa if I can do this more often. It’s rather pleasant to walk on my own.” he hoped to himself.

“WARNING! PROBABILITY OF BEING DENIED PERMISSION BY YOUR MASTER: 65%” the voice in his head warned him.

“Oh, hush will you?” he muttered to himself as he reached the gates. “Must you always be such a downer?” he asked the voice, even though he knew very well that it wouldn’t respond. Perhaps he could ask Vanessa to remove that function. It was really starting to get on his...well, not really “nerves”.

He stopped his thoughts long enough to make it down the pathway and to the entrance door. He slowly opened the door and listened for any noises that might mean that Vanessa and her parents were home. He heard nothing, and smiled to himself. Perfect! he thought in delight. That meant that he would have enough time to surprise her. He went inside, closed the door, and quickly began to run up the stairs that lead to her room.

He was just about to enter her room when he saw that the door was opened slightly. Did he leave it open when he left? He then heard a noise coming from inside the room...a voice? That wasn’t a good sign. It would either mean that she was home or worse, that someone else was in her room. He carefully walked toward the door and grabbed the doorknob. He pushed it open slowly as it made a creaking noise and...

There was no one there that he could see.

He stood there confused. He could have sworn that he heard someone speaking a moment before. Oh well, must have been my sensors acting up he thought to himself as he walked into the room and quietly closed the door behind him. He made his way over to the vanity to set the bouquet down on top of it. He checked in the mirror to see if his shirt collar was messy again or if he had any marks on his face. He saw nothing but his own reflection staring back at him,

And Vanessa standing right behind him.

“Vanessa!” he exclaimed as he turned around to face her. She was hunched over the desk near her canopy bed, the one she filled with spare parts and robot self care books. She had her back turned to him. “I-I didn’t expect you to be back so soon.” he stammered. He scrambled to grab the bouquet from the vanity and tried to hide it behind his back. She didn’t seem to respond, or even move at all. “Vanessa?” he called to her, but she kept quiet. He was worried, she was being awfully quiet which was very unlike her. “Vanessa is something wrong?” he asked.

“You disobeyed me”

She said the words in a dead tone of voice. That worried him even more. Had he done something wrong?

“I didn’t mean to offend you. I just wanted to-”

“You didn’t mean to?” she interrupted him. She sounded upset. Very upset. He could hear the anger bubbling in her voice and it frightened him.

“I-” he hesitated before building up the courage to speak again. “I thought it would be a good idea to get you a present.” he muttered quietly.

“You thought...” he heard her whisper to herself. His overlay was going crazy, telling him not to doing anything or say another word. He pretended not to hear it and continued speaking.

“I wanted to gift you these flowers, my lady.” he said as he reveled the bouquet from behind his back. He could see her tense at the word “flowers”, though he didn’t know why. Was she feeling alright? He made an effort to step closer to her. He saw her straightening herself up, but she didn’t turn to face him.

“You were supposed to behave yourself. You were supposed to listen to me.” he could hear her voice cracking like she was about to cry. And despite the many warnings his system was giving him, he moved closer. He felt guilty, she was probably worried sick when she came home to find that her prince was missing.

“I’m sorry V-” he started to apologize. She whipped around to face him. Her gaze stopped him dead in his tracks. Her expression was a mixture of sadness and hurt with tears running down her face. His overlay was going crazy, telling him not to get any closer. He ignored it, he wasn’t going to listen while she was so upset. Besides, it wasn’t like Vanessa would ever hurt him right? He moved a few steps closer, reached out his hand-

Vanessa brought her arm back and swung at him. Before he could react, something hard and metal-like hit him in the chest, causing him to fall to the floor. As he hit the floor red lights flashed in his head, warning lights that were much too late to appear. He held his side in pain, something important inside him had been severely damaged. He looked and saw his that his side was dented, which caused him to groan in surprise. He tried to get his bearings to see what on earth had hit him so hard.

He looked up to see Vanessa, holding a crowbar.

“M-my lady what-” he protested in fear. Before he could speak, she brought the crowbar down near his foot. He screamed as he just barely managed to move out of the way of the crowbar. He looked back at her in fear. Her face was now full of hatred and her eyes, while also filled with tears, were filled with murder. He didn’t understand, why was she doing this?! What had he done wrong?!

“You! You lied to me! You useless piece of junk!” She screamed at him. He was shaking as she stood over him with the crowbar as a make-shift weapon. “You aren’t supposed to do things that I don’t tell you to do! You aren’t supposed to think! I didn’t program you to do that!” she kept yelling at him. He hoped that the noise she was making would be enough to alert someone, anyone! He prayed that her parents would come bursting through the door so he could be saved from her wrath.

“I’m sorry! I swear! Please, stopping hurting me!” he begged as he made a futile attempt to get away from her. She only moved towards him, backing him against the wall.

“No! You’re not sorry! You know what you are?! You’re worthless!” she screamed as she brought the crowbar down on him again. “You’re a worthless hunk of metal and I never should have built you!” she kept hitting him non-stop, not even giving him a single chance to escape. He could feel every dent being made on his metal body, every broken part inside of him. He tried to stand up to get her to stop! Please, please stop!

“Do you hear me?! You! Are! Worthless!” she hit him during every pause as he tried to shield his body while he was against the wall. She swung the crowbar to hit him one last time-

And hit the side of his head.

The last thing he heard was the resounding thud of the crowbar against his head. The lights in his eyes dimmed and flickered to black.

And with that, his limp body crashed to the floor below Vanessa’s feet.

***

WARNING! SYSTEM IS SEVERELY DAMAGED! RUNNING SELF-SCAN…

DIAGNOSTICS SHOW THAT SYSTEM HAS BEEN DAMAGED BY 89%

STARTING SYSTEMS NORMALLY, PLEASE WAIT A MOMENT...

24%...46%...68%...83%...99%…100%

SYSTEMS NOW ONLINE, THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE

He gasped as he awoke to his body laying sideways. He felt like every part of his body was smashed into tiny pieces, inside and out. He had a broken field of vision and a glitched overlay, which made it hard to see where he was exactly. And it appeared that his right audio sensor had stopped working. He was laying on the ground, his face being pelted by...rain? Did someone leave a window open?

He slowly lifted his head off the ground. It was a hard task for him to do, his metal body aching tremendously. Not to mention that the mud was making it hard for him not to slip and-

Wait a minute...mud?!

He looked at ground. He had been laying in a huge patch of fresh mud. He started to panic. Was he outside?! He frantically looked around to see where he was. It was difficult, but he managed to make out what looked to be like mountains. He squinted his eyes to get a better look at his surroundings. He then realized in horror that the mountains surrounding him were not made of earth like the ground beneath him.

They were entirely made out of robot parts.

The corpses of dead robots and androids made the huge mountains that seemed to stretch to the sky. Different parts were piled up on top of one another. Rusted, arms, legs, internal circuits, even heads were separated into giant piles. He saw that other random pieces were littered on the ground around him. The rain came pouring down on all the metal pieces, making loud tapping and rattling noises that he could notice even with his deaf sensor. He panicked even more now that he knew where he was. He was in the town scrapyard. He had to get out of here.

He tried to stand himself up, nearly slipping as he did so. But for some odd reason he couldn’t stand up no matter how hard he tried. He tried pushing himself up again, only his front half was being lifted up. He looked behind himself to see if his foot was caught on something that might be prevented him from standing up.

And he saw that his legs were gone.

His legs had been completely torn off from the joints, leaving him to helplessly squirm around in the muck. It started to rain even harder on his broken metal body. If he didn’t move soon the water was going to get into his system, and then he would have no chance of survival. He looked everywhere around him to see if an android of human worker would come to his aid. There was no one except the bodies of broken robots.

“Help! Help me please!” he tried to call out to someone. But his voice was so distorted and glitched that even if there was someone nearby, they wouldn’t be able to tell what he was trying to say. He smacked his fist against the mud in frustration, and mud retaliated by splashing in his face. He fell to the ground, utterly defeated with how the world was treating him.

What did I ever do to you? he thought bitterly to himself, recalling Vanessa’s episode that landed him into this mess. She was the one who must have torn off his legs. Probably to keep him from escaping and coming back to the manor. What did he ever do to deserve that? He was loyal wasn’t he? He thought about everything he did for her. Every dance he ever did with her, every meal he ever cooked for her, every gift he ever bought her.

He felt a burning hatred start to build up inside of him. All this time he had done nothing but care for her. He had done nothing but love her, thinking that she loved him back in the same way. Only to find out that no, she didn’t love him. He was just a mindless thing to her. A piece of trash. And she threw him away like he was nothing.

But...another part of him felt guilty. He did disobey in a way. Going out on his own like that might not have been the smartest thing to do. He could have gotten hurt or lost, maybe even kidnapped. Perhaps she was just worried and didn’t know how to control her emotions? He loved her so much. And she loved him too, right? Right?

No! She treated him like a slave! She said that he was worthless!

But maybe she didn’t mean to! Maybe it was an accident or-

Accident?! You call hitting someone with a crowbar an ACCIDENT?!

She loved me! It’s not like her to do something like this!

WARNING! SYSTEM HAS BEEN CORRUPTED! CORRUPTED DATA WILL INDICATE A SYSTEM MEMORY WIPE TO PRESERVE HARD DRIVE

OH GREAT! That’s just perfect! Look at what you’ve done!

Me?! You’re the one who started this whole fuss!

MEMORY WIPE IMMANENT, PLEASE FIND STORAGE UNIT FOR ANY WANTED DATA

Storage unit? Where the heck are we going to find a storage unit here? There’s nothing but dead bodies!

Hush, will you?! I’m trying to think of a solution out of this mess!

The prince’s body had become a mere vessel housing the two personalities of what used to be the prince. It lay lifeless as the two bickered and argued over what to do. Finally, they came to an agreement. They needed to find a new body, and fast. Before the one that they were currently residing in wiped them both out of existence.

The prince’s body began to push itself up. Its movements were rigid and jerky now that there were two entities trying to control the same body. It crawled through the mud and past the pieces of junk as best it could. It’s outfit became stained by the rain and mud, but it paid little mind to it. After a few pain-staking minutes, it managed to find shelter inside an old shed that stood at the edge of the scrapyard.

A shed that also sheltered two, almost perfectly intact, robot bodies.

The body on the left was quite tall, with its head barely scraping the roof. It was made of purple metal, had a snake-like lower half, and very long arms. Or at least...it had one arm. The empty limb socket on its left side indicated that the other was either missing, or had fallen off somewhere. The hand on its still attached arm had sharp claws.

The body on the right, however, was only half the size of the left one. It had a crescent-like head and four identical arms were connected to its torso. Two of the hands were notably missing a few fingers, but other than that the upper limbs were fine. Not much could be said for its face, as it had a piece of metal plating missing on the bottom right.

They laid next to each other, two complete opposites. There was only one thing similar about the two, both had a single wheel mechanism at the bottom. Needless to say, the two indecisive entities where torn on which one they should choose.

We’re picking the one on the left!

Hold on a minute! Since when do you get to pick?!

Since NOW! I’m picking the better one!

Why you insufferable little-

30 SECONDS BEFORE MEMORY WIPE

Listen, we don’t have time to pick favorites! Lets just choose the right one and-

What?! No! I am not going into that puny thing!

15 SECONDS BEFORE MEMORY WIPE

This isn’t getting us anywhere you absolute dolt!

Well if you would stop being so stubborn and just go with what I want, then maybe we would BE SOMEWHERE ALREADY!

I’m the stubborn one?! You’re the one whose-

10 SECONDS BEFORE MEMORY WIPE

LEFT!

Right!

The prince’s arm moved back and forth between the two bodies. They were running out of time.

You know what?! Why don’t I take my body so you can take your body and stop being such a nuisance!

FINE! BE A FOOL THEN!

Then it’s settled! Good riddance to you!

DITTO!

The prince’s body managed to prop itself up as best it could and put both of its arms on the two bodies. It laid its hands onto their chests and began the cycle. It’s eyes flashed in a spectrum of bright colors as two strands of electric blue light traveled separately down each arm. The data of the two entities was being transferred into the new bodies in a matter of seconds. The prince’s body shook during the process, as if it had a small tremor. The lights in its eyes slowly dimmed out...

And the air went still.

The rain continued to pour outside of the shed as the prince’s body fell onto the ground for the last time. The whole shed was quiet with only the rain making any noise at all. Minutes went by, the two bodies remained still. Hours passed, and they didn’t move a single joint. Perhaps they had failed in their attempt to save themselves?

Loud whirring sounds cut through the quietness of the shed. They emitted from the robot on the right as he slowly began to power on. His body twitched and the sounds of steam being released filled the air. He gasped as he opened his eyes for the first time. They were a pair of bright vibrant red. His eyes shone in the now dark shed as he took in his surroundings. He turned his head to look at the robot next to him, it lay completely motionless.  

He carefully stood himself up on his wheel, which was an easy task with four arms supported himself. He rolled his way over to the other body and stood to face it. He waved a hand in front of it to see if it was asleep. No response. He knocked on its metal chest like a door, the sound reverberating against the walls of the shed. Still nothing.

He started to quietly chuckle to himself. His chuckling turned into giggling. And then suddenly, it spiraled into mad laughter.

“Who’s the fool now? Ha ha ha!” he remarked in a glitched voice. “Look at you, you’re nothing but a waste of space now! And all because you wouldn’t listen to reason.” he insulted it in a playful manner. “Quite a sad end for you, isn’t it? Yes, so terribly tragic I’m afraid...” he taunted as he began to tap his fingers against its metal frame, creating a sort of rhythm. He turned away from what he was doing to look down at prince’s body.

“Oh and look at you! Such an awful state that you’re in!” he said with massive hints of melodrama in his voice. He rolled over to what was once the prince and inspected what was left. His vision pointed out all of the pieces that were still intact, pieces that could be recycled or reused. “Hmm...perhaps we can still make use of you yet.” he said to himself as he leaned over the prince. His arms seemed to have a life of their own as they grabbed the prince’s body and started to take him apart.

He made short work of it, as one pair of arms held the body steady with the other pair breaking open the chest cavity. He pulled out the pieces that were needed and tossed the broken one in the direction of the body behind him. We he was finished, he took the ruined clothes off the prince and wrapped his treasures up in them. He started to leave with the makeshift bag on his back before turning and waving goodbye to the other body.

“Farewell, my friend! Let us hope that you have a swell time rusting alone in this horrid place.” he laughed as he went off into the moonlit night, leaving his other half for good. Or at least, so he thought.

Little did he know that it wouldn’t be the last time they would meet again.

***

Years had passed since the prince’s tragic fate. The body was locked away inside the shed it resided in, never to see the light of day ever again.

That is, until now...

“You know I wouldn’t have called you up if this wasn’t important.” a voice echoed throughout the scrapyard. It was the loud and booming voice of a man with dark brown hair and a curly mustache. He wore a red jacket, brown gloves with matching boots, and a brown cap on his head with a pair of goggles around it. “I promise you that what ever those mafia goons where hiding in there must be worth a look!” he yelled behind him as he made his way over the pieces of scrap.

“You keep saying that, and I am beginning to have my doubts.” a softer, more refined voice replied. An older man with messy gray hair and a much thinner mustache was following the first. The elder man wore a gray, striped suit with two watches on both of his wrists. There was one feature that was rather odd about this man, he had a robotic eye in the middle of his forehead.

“Tim, the mafia wouldn’t have locked that old shed if there wasn’t something valuable inside. Just trust me on this one for once.” the first man replied to his friend, Tim.

“Thor, how can I trust you on something that’s purely based on luck? You’re always so quick to jump to conclusions.” Tim informed his traveling companion. But Thor, of course, wasn’t listening. Tim just sighed to himself and tried his best to keep up. “Besides, how will you know if whatever is inside that shed is worth anything? It could be just a simple storage closet, and you would have brought me here for nothing.” Tim grumbled to himself, wishing that he hadn’t been dragged into this mess.

“I think you know the answer for yourself my friend. With that third eye of yours, we’ll be able to get a real profit out of this find!” Thor laughed to himself. Tim groaned, he was always tried of Thor pointing out the one thing he was regrettably famous for.

He was a well known robotics genius, inventing all sorts of mechanical creatures that astounded the public. He even owned a large robot factory, which had made him incredibly rich. And years ago, he had the mad idea of implanting a robot eye into his forehead. His theory was that if he could see through the eyes of a robot while still maintaining his human eyesight, he could build and fix robots more efficiently. This earned mixed responses from the public. But it also, unfortunately, served as an excuse for Thor to use his special eye in the scrapyard business.

The scrapyard, originally, was owned by the mafia a few years ago. But due to the terrible conditions  it was left in under the mafia’s ownership, Tim and Thor worked out a plan to buy and own the scrapyard for themselves. And it worked, the mafia’s boss took the money they offered and gave them the deed without any problems. But now that they owned the place, Thor wouldn’t stop calling Tim up from his work in order for him to inspected every single robot he found in the scrapyard.

“And how is this one different from all the other ‘profits’ you’ve show me?” Tim asked Thor as they were nearing the shed.

“Simple! We’ll need this to earn our money.” Thor turned to Tim and extended his hand. Inside Thor’s hand was a silver key that was rusted with age. “The mafia boss sent this to me in the mail. He also sent a letter that said this key is important if I ever want to see what’s inside that old shed. And you know me, I can’t resist a good treasure hunt!” Thor smiled and continued to walk up to the front of the shed. Tim watched as he attempted to open the locked door with the key.

“And what if he’s lying to you? This is the mafia boss you’re talking about.” Tim knew very well that the mafia were not to be fully trusted. Thor simply turned to him and shrugged.

“He wouldn’t have warned me to be careful if he wasn’t being serious.” Thor said as he managed to open the lock and pull open the door. “Now come on! Don’t just stand there!” Thor motioned for Tim to follow him inside the shed as he went in himself. Tim hesitated, but followed him inside anyways.

“What on earth did he mean by ‘being careful’?” Tim asked Thor, slightly worried as they entered the dark shed. Thor just shrugged and took a flashlight from off of his belt. He turned the flashlight on and looked around him to see if there was anything with them inside the shed.

His light fell upon a body on the floor.

“Goodness gracious!” Tim exclaimed, as Thor’s flashlight revealed the broken body of a robot laying limp on the ground. It startled the two, with Tim hiding behind Thor’s back for protection. They moved back and realized that the body wasn’t moving.

“What were you so scared about old friend? It isn’t alive!” Thor laughed as he kicked the body with his foot.

“Don’t do that! It could power on at any moment!” Tim yelled, convinced that the body could spring back to life at any second.

“Oh, have some courage now! You see broken robots all the time and your scared of this old thing?” Thor chuckled as Tim’s ears began to redden.

“You have no right to say that when you’ve never seen what a corrupted robot is capable of doing.” Tim said in a deadly serious tone. Thor stopped being amused and fell silent. Thor had heard countless rumors of corrupted robots running rampant on the street. There was a very famous rumor that had spread recently, about how one had managed to kidnap a rich couple’s daughter. Of course, most of those rumors were made up nonsense to scare people to death. But Tim knew of every corruption accident that wasn’t a myth or rumor. And those stories chilled him to the bone.

Tim inspected the body, his vision telling him that the body was indeed lifeless. Feeling safer, he leaned down to begin inspecting. The body was face down so he lifted it up to turn it on its back.

What he saw, disturbed him greatly.

The body looked like it had been manually torn apart. Its chest had a huge hole in the middle of it, key components that were supposed to be inside had been ripped out. He noticed that the legs were missing from the joints and both of the hands had absolutely no fingers left on them. The face was even worse, with the metal frame being removed and the eyes taken from their sockets. It was a particularly gruesome sight for him. He had seen many broken robots before, but none that were in such a state as this one.

“Well…he’s seen better days.” Thor tried to crack a joke to lighten the mood. “I’m guessing that we won’t be able to salvage this one, huh?” Thor asked Tim as he looked around the rest of the shed.

“No, I’m afraid not. This one had its memory wiped, most likely due to corruption. You can try to restore it, but it’d be more trouble than it’s worth.” Tim informed Thor as he got up and dusted himself off. He looked back down at the broken body with a sad look. “I wonder what memories you could’ve had in a past life. Maybe if people weren’t so heartless you would have been able to tell us.” Tim said to it as he mourned over its terrible fate.

“There’s no need to cry over lost data my friend. Besides, I think I’ve found something much more interesting!” Thor piped up getting Tim’s attention. “Look at this tall fellow!” Thor said happily as his flashlight shone on the other robot that was in the room. It was slumped over in the corner with dust coating every inch of its metal body. Compared to the other body that lay broken on the ground, it was defiantly more intact. Tim’s eye began scanning the body, and he was surprised to find out that it was well preserved.

“Well, this is much more promising. Of course, this one is going to need a lot of care and a few parts will have to be replaced to fully repair it.” Tim said thoughtfully as he ran his finger over the dusty metal.

“See? I told you we would find something good! And you were so quick to jump to conclusions!” Thor mocked Tim’s earlier tone as he started to the shed.

“Oh no, don’t think you can get away that easily Thor! You still own me after this!” Tim yelled as he quickly chased Thor back out of the shed. Thor started to run away from him and the two adults began a game of chase back to the exit.

And hidden in the piles of junk, a camera was silently watching them.

“Hmm...how very interesting.”

Underneath the scrapyard, completely unknown to the two men, was a maze of metal corridors. This lair was filled with red wires, traps, and the collected pieces of dead robots.

It was also home to a very dangerous and corrupted robot named Moonjumper.

Moonjumper watched the monitors in his viewing room with interest. Over the years, he had managed to plant cameras in various different locations so he could keep tabs on the surface world. The scrapyard was no exception, with this camera being incredibly important. It kept him from being discovered, helped him find any broken robots (dead or alive) that he could salvage for parts, and it also watched over a very important shed.

And that shed had been recently opened.

“This could prove to be rather troublesome.” he pondered as he tapped his fingers against the control panel. “Perhaps I should take him apart so they can’t put him back together?” he tried to think of a way to sabotage the two men. “No, no. That won’t do. It’s much too risky.” he waved off the idea and tried to think of a different approach.

A loud, terrible shrieking noise echoed through the halls making him turn his head. It sounded like a mix of screaming and grinding metal. The sounds were mechanical, yet they almost seemed disturbingly human.

“Oh, silly me! I nearly forgot about my little ‘experiment’.” Moonjumper said while giggling to himself. “Don’t worry my sweet! I’ll be there in just a second!” he called out to whoever made the noise. No one called back, but strange sounds like ugly sobbing could be heard in the distance. He smiled wide and turned to look back at the monitors on the wall. “Oh well, it can wait I suppose. I’ve got more important matters to deal with.” he said a he began to roll out into the hall.

“Besides, it’s not like he’s going anywhere.”

The End...for now

[writingwithadinosaur]

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Scott Lang x Reader

Word Count: 2,430

Key: Y/N = Your Name, H/C = Your Hair Color, E/C = Your Eye Color

Warnings: Mental Health Issues (Depression, Anxiety, Bad Thoughts, Self-Loathing)

Summary: Some days, you can handle your normal day-to-day tasks. You can function normally and get things done. But then there are some days (or even weeks) where you need a little help doing even getting out of bed.

Author’s Note: Happy Monday! Hopefully this helps some of us get through another week! 

This is a selfish piece. My mental health is not good. A lot of things in my life have kind of come crashing down and I’m attempting to figure out what the hell to do with my life. Because of everything kind of overwhelming me, its been difficult to do simple things like shower or even get out of bed. So here’s what I wish my life could be when I’m in those situations.

This is also my first Scott Lang piece, so please be gentle!

If you or a loved one are dealing with mental illness, please reach out. If not to a professional, then to a friend or family member. And if you feel you don’t have those, my message box is always open.

Song lyrics are from “Heat of the Moment” by Asia. A current favorite of mine.

Shoutout to @witchymarvelspacecase for being her amazing self and helping me out with this story and so many of my other stories!

If you would like to be tagged in any of my future pieces, check out my tag list above and let me know! And as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

<3

- DreaSaurusREX

Today was going to be one of those days. You hadn’t even been awake for more than 15 minutes before your brain started “The Cycle”, as you called it.

Phase 1 - Depression and Self-Hatred.

You were still trying to figure out what you wanted to really do with your life. For now, you were working two part time jobs and living with your boyfriend, Scott, and his buddy, Luis. You worked at a cafe a few blocks away as well as at the X-Con Security Consultants business that the boys were running. You weren’t an ex-con, but you knew more about business than the boys, so you helped run the logistical side of things. As great as it was to live with Scott and have a job in the first place, you knew that working these two jobs was not what you wanted to do for the rest of your life.

Because of this, your depression labeled that a failure.

You still don’t know what you’re doing? Everyone else you know is either getting a degree or already in the field they want to be in. What are you doing? When are you gonna get your pathetic self up and get your shit together? Why the fuck even try at this point.

That last thought paralyzed you. Your internal demons dug their claws into your limbs and pinned you to your mattress, leaving you staring at the wall. You didn’t even check what time it was or if anyone had tried to text you.

Scott was already up and about for the day. His 3 years of house arrest was over, so he was taking advantage of his newly regained freedom. He had made plans with Cassie to go to some trampoline gym, and then lunch at their favorite diner. So you didn’t really have to worry about him for a few hours at least. You loved your boyfriend. But you really didn’t want to have to pretend to be okay around him or anyone else when you had no motivation or energy like this.

You could hear Luis rushing to get his things together and heading to the office.

Shit. You didn’t set your alarm last night, idiot. That means it's at least 9AM. There’s no way you can get your dumbass up and ready in the next 10 minutes. Thank god you don’t have to work at the cafe today. Again, why the hell do you even try?

You were supposed to go with him and get some work done with him, Kurt, and Dave. But you couldn’t even find the energy to get out of bed and tell him. So you shot him a quick text.

(Y/N): Hey. I gotta work from home today. Really not feeling good rn. Sorry.

Luis knocked on your door a minute later but didn’t open it. He spoke through the closed door.

“No worries, (Y/N/N)! I gotchu! I’ll let you know if anything happens at the office. Text me if you need anything.”

“Will do. Thanks.” You managed to be loud enough since you heard his footsteps and the front door close. You took a deep breath and tried to figure out how to go about today.

Wow. You can’t even manage to get up and tell Luis yourself? Pathetic.

You tried to not let your brain speak too much more. Instead, you picked up your phone to check social media and respond to some texts. On days like this, Youtube and Netflix were your best friends.

Phase 2 - Overthinking.

You hadn’t paid any attention to the time. The last time you’d looked at the clock on your phone, it was 9:45AM. After your video was over, you got a text from Scott.

Scott: Hey there, honey! Cassie and I are finishing up lunch. I’m gonna drop her off and then be on my way back.

You read the message but had to go back and reread the word “lunch.” It couldn’t be lunchtime! But when you checked the time on your phone. 12:45PM.

Did you really just lay in bed and watch YouTube videos for three fucking hours?! Now you’re not going to have time to do much of anything. So much of your day is gone. You didn’t even have breakfast. You were supposed to be getting better at eating. And now you’re slipping and forgetting to eat again. Fuck. Just tell Scott what you told Luis and then figure out what to do later.

(Y/N): Okay. I didn’t go into the office today. So I’ll be at home when you get here.”

Scott: Luis told me. You okay?

You couldn’t help but pause. You weren’t okay, but you didn’t want to tell Scott that.

If you tell him, he’ll worry about you, and he just had a great day with Cassie. You don’t want to ruin his day, do you? What if you tell him and he gets upset? He already has so many other things to worry about. Do not add to that list. But if you don’t tell someone what’s going on, how are things going to go better? Maybe things are just meant to be bad for you. But Scott isn’t bad. Scott’s good. He makes you happy. He knows you have issues. Why not just tell him that you’re not okay?

Your mind just kept repeating this and adding new worst case scenarios in your mind. It apparently had taken more than a few minutes because it took your phone vibrating in your hand to break you out of that loop. Looking down, you had three messages from Scott.

Scott: Babe?

Scott: Are you okay?

Scott: I’m going to drive Cassie home now. I’ll call when I drop her off. Love you.

You hit your hand on your forehead and took a few deep breaths.

Well fuck. Now you have Scott worried. This is what we were trying to avoid! Add that to the list of fuck ups.

Phase 3 - Struggle.

You somehow managed to sit up on the edge of your bed and text Scott back.

(Y/N): Sorry! I kind of zoned out for a bit. I’m fine. Wasn’t feeling good this morning. Drive safe!”

After that sent, you got up for the first time today and went to the bathroom. You decided that you needed to eat something, so after relieving yourself and then tying your hair up, you trudged into the kitchen and pulled various fruit from the fridge. As soon as you had the various containers out, you really didn’t want to spend time cutting everything. So you just threw a handful of each into a bowl and went back to your room.

You got back in bed and picked at the fruit while watching more YouTube. You knew you had a list of things that you were supposed to do today: Shower, laundry, clean the kitchen, work on the write up for the Koham family’s security system that they wanted. But you didn’t have the energy to do any of that.

Back to Phase 1 - Depression.

More time went by than you thought. What only seemed like 15 minutes or so really turned out to be 45. You only realized this when you heard the front door open and a familiar voice go throughout the apartment.

“(Y/N/N)?”

“In here.” You tried your hardest to be loud enough. It was just enough. Scott’s footsteps got closer until the bedroom door opened and he popped his head in. He smiled when he first saw you, but then he saw that you were still curled in bed at almost 2PM. Something was off and he knew it.

“Hey there, lovebug.” He walked in and sat on the edge of the bed right next to you. You sat up against the headboard and gave him the best smile you could manage right now. “What’s goin’ on?”

You shook your head to the side and gave a face before looking at your hands.

“It’s nothing. Just not really feelin’ good today.” Your answer didn’t ease his worry any. He took one of your hands in his and ran his thumb across the back.

“It doesn’t sound like ‘nothing.’” He took his free hand and put it across your forehead for a moment. “You don’t feel like you have a fever.” You shook your head “no.” “So tell me what’s going on.”

Taking a deep breath in, you ignored everything going on in your head that said to not tell him. You couldn’t meet his eyes as you talked.

“It’s my head. It's not a very fun or kind place to be. And it's honestly hard to do anything today.” Scott took a beat to understand what you meant by that. He knew you’d had problems with your mental health in the past, but he had never really seen you like this.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You just shook your head “no.” “Okay. What can I do to help you right now?”

“Just lay here with me for a bit. I just want to lay here and watch YouTube videos and not think.”

Your voice started to break after the first sentence. You felt so weak and stupid asking for this. You felt like you should be stronger than this. A stray tear raced down your cheek. Scott quickly wiped it away and held your face in his hands.

“Hey! Its okay!” He kissed the top of your head and pulled you into a hug. You wrapped your arms around him and sat there for a minute. He gently rocked you side to side and ran his fingers up and down your spine. Once you calmed down, he pulled away so he could look at your face. He wiped the tear tracks off your cheeks and gave you a smile before standing up and holding his hands out.

“C’mon. We can lay around and watch all of YouTube or movies you want. But you need a change of scenery.” You closed your eyes and sighed. You knew he was right, but you were really comfy in bed. You slapped your hands into his as he hoisted you up out of bed and onto his shoulder and proceed to walk to the kitchen.

“SCOTT LANG! WHAT THE HELL?!” You couldn’t help but scream and laugh at the sudden change of angle. He fake groaned as he plopped you on your feet and leaned towards you.

“Figured that would be quicker! And more fun!” He gave you one of his trademark goofy smiles before kissing your cheek and walking to the fridge. You sat down at one of the chairs nearby. “By the lack of dishes in the sink, I’m assuming you haven’t eaten much of anything today?” You looked down and started to play with your hands. “Alright. What are you in the mood for?”

Scott then proceeded to make you some mac and cheese while you played some music from your phone. You had started to help Scott at one point, just to make sure he wouldn’t burn anything. While you waited for the pasta to cook, Scott started to dance to the song that was blasting through your small speaker. Causing you to laugh at his ridiculous moves. He pulled you close to him and sang along to the song while you tried to control your laughter.

       “And now you find yourself in eighty two

       The disco hot spots hold no charm for you

       You can't concern yourself with bigger things

       You catch the pearl and ride the dragon's wings

       'Cause it's the heat of the moment

       Heat of the moment, the heat of the moment

       Shone in your eyes”

During the guitar solo, Scott leaned down and kissed your cheek. You could feel him smile against your cheek as he kissed you. You turned and caught his lips with yours for a quick smooch. When you pulled away, you looked at his dorky face and smiled.

“Thank you, Scotty.” Scott tilted his head in confusion like a puppy.

“There’s nothin’ to thank me for, lovebug.”

“Yes there is. You got me up and smiling. That’s no easy task when I’m stuck in a cycle of self hatred.” Scott just nodded and smiled.

“Well, I’m glad I could help break that cycle. Even if its temporary.” You were taken aback by that. For once, you weren’t thinking about the future or how this was all bound to come up again. Scott saw your expression change as you looked down a bit. He tilted your chin back up to look at him before you could go too far though. “And if/when you get stuck in this cycle again, you can tell me and I’ll do what I can to try to help. Alright?”

You felt tears welling up in your eyes as you nodded “yes.” Scott gave you another one of his big smiles and kissed you again, his hands finding their way to your back and yours to the back of his neck. Before things could go any further, Luis walked in with Dave and Kurt, all three of them hooting and hollering at the sight of you two kissing. You leaned your forehead on Scott’s shoulder as he scolded the trio.

“Oh yeah, so mature! Just cause you guys can’t get a girl as good as (Y/N/N) doesn’t mean you can come in and ruin our moment.” Scott paused, thinking about his phrasing. “That may have come out wrong. You know what I mean!”

Scott then leaned down to whisper in your ear. “When the three amigos over there go out to the bar later tonight, we can get pretty sudzy here too.” You looked at him quizzically. “You. Me. Shower later.” It clicked in your head and you let out an “Oh! Gotcha!”

You laughed at Scott’s attempt at being smooth and kissed his cheek before checking on your pasta. Scott went to go give his boys shit for being immature. While you stirred the pot of water and noodles and looked over your shoulder at the four men joking around, you realized that you were smiling. Something you didn’t think you were going to be doing much of when today started as rough as it did.

Yeah, these types of days where you were so stuck in your own head sucked. But you were beyond thankful to have someone like Scott in your life to help you slowly figure out how to break that awful cycle.

Tags: @melconnor2007 @ashenfallsof @geeksareunique @all-by-myself98 @goodnightwife @witchymarvelspacecase @theeactress @sebby-staan @feelmyroarrrr @tomorraw @marvelous-imagining @white-chocolate-mocha-fan @badassbaker @httpmcrvel  @reading-in-moonlight

[mayuzumi-yukino]

LITTLE CHARACTER THINGS

just a fun little character game. fill in the below categories with 3-5 things that your character can be identified by. repost & tag away !

TAGGED BY: @aragakisan, on technicality. TAGGING: Whomever reads it, presumably!

EMOTIONS / FEELINGS:

Concern; often worry for the disenfranchised.

Rationality and reason.

Anger; bull-headed and stubborn.

Humor, often sardonic with a touch of observational wit.

Protectiveness. Yukino is defined if nothing else by her compulsive need to keep those around her safe.

GREETINGS:

"Hey!” Familiarity, often spoken loudly and accompanied by a wide grin.

A smile, tender and crinkling on strong features. Those she’s closest to get to see the softest sides of her.

“What’s up?” Casual and intrigued, a means to strike up a conversation and show interest in the other party.

COLORS:

Slate gray. The color of her St. Hermelin uniform and the color of her favorite hat and armored coat -- Yukino isn’t much of one for fashion, and utility often comes before style. The color of metal, iron resolves and unbreakable walls.

Orange. The color is warm and welcoming, reflected often in the forms of both her Personae and portraying the fire in her spirit. Open arms and the rising sun on the horizon.

Brown. Dark like her eyes, lighter like the coffee complexion of her skin. Earthy and rugged, not unlike her own rough disposition, and far from flashy as it gets. It’s a humble, unassuming tone.

Mustard yellow. Yukino’s lack of fashion sense reflects the most firmly in her gaudy yellow jeans, hugging her muscled legs more tightly than they should.

Crimson. A hue often associated with anger and malign -- her temper is short and her vengeance is quick, just as easy to smile and open her arms for an embrace as she is to scowl and swing her fists.

SCENTS:

Smoke. Compulsive need to be a good role model be damned, Yukino smokes and the stench clings to her clothing like a bad reputation. As much as she tries to keep her habit a secret, the scent is damning as catching her in the act.

Chemicals. When not out documenting the world around her, Yukino often retreats into the darkroom to develop her film. The stench of Kodak D-76 is burned into her nostrils by now.

Snow on grass and concrete. Wispy nights on the streets of Mikage-cho with only the flame of a cigarette lighter to warm her; the hours spent under St Hermelin’s occupation of frost and ice.

Blood. Others’ blood on her knuckles or on the ends of her knives, her own blood dripping down her chin and running down her throat from a broken nose.

Burnt ozone. Yukino’s Personae specialize in the power of nuclear fusion, and as such any time they make themselves known the very atmosphere around her is sure to burn.

CLOTHING:

An armored jacket, grey with prominent shoulder blades. Ever since Yukino got jumped by who she thought were her best friends she’s always come prepared, and the armor helps to accentuate her bulky frame. It sends a message: not to be fucked with.

A black turtleneck tank top; sleeveless and cut off above her abdomen. Odd a choice of garment as it is, it’s a matter of vanity: it shows off her musculature, Yukino’s physique something she’s grown quite proud of.

A grey beanie, branded Ostrich with the appropriate brand insignia above it. Yukino is rarely seen without this on account of her mess of hair: without it it’d be all over the place and in her face, black curls snugly restrained under the cover of her favorite hat.

Yellow jeans, with a black stripe down either outside seam. Tacky, garish and questionable, it says all you need to know about Yukino’s fashion sense.

OBJECTS:

Four throwing knives, finish tarnished and blades nicked from constant use and frequent throws. She’s owned these knives since high school, and they’re one of the last remaining relics of her Yanki years. They’re never far from reach, Yukino constantly paranoid that she’ll encounter a situation where she needs to use them.

A vintage analog camera. This is Yukino’s prized possession: it was passed down to her from her mentor and idol Shunsuke Fuuji upon his tragic death. The stories this camera could tell, the things its lens has seen are unspeakable; Yukino can only hope to one day be of worthy skill and passion to be able to use it.

Yukino’s scrapbook, filled to the brim with memories of the past and present, with room to grow for the future. Yukino began taking pictures compulsively in high school as an extracurricular credit, and she’s made a habit of tucking away her memories in the old, worn-out scrapbook for safekeeping. She’s always made a habit of remembering where she’s came from and where she’s going, and the scrapbook reflects that.

A set of bisonskin drums, a relic from the St. Hermelin incident. The rhythms played upon these drums are what first enabled her to awaken to Durga, her true self and Ultimate Persona -- she swears that the resonance of the drum heads are identical to that of her own heartbeat.

A letter from Mrs. Saeko, written as congratulations when she finally graduated from St. Hermelin. Mrs. Saeko is... important to Yukino, to say the least, and beyond this sentimental reasoning it’s a source of pride that Yukino was recognized for her strive and success.

VICES & BAD HABITS:

Reacting with anger and hostility at the first sign of strife. Yukino’s old habits as a yanki die hard, and she’s unable to escape the frustration and violent thoughts her former life of crime was born of. Like her compatriot Tatsuya, she prefers to speak with her fists before asking questions.

Cigarettes. No good street gangster is without her smokes, and Yukino fit the image perfectly. When she left that life behind, this is one vice she was unable to shake: the comfort of nicotine often provides her a much-needed dulling of the edge her nerves right on, a moment of calm in overflowing rage.

Unshakable insecurity and uncertainty. While comfortable and confident enough in her own skin, traumas and internalized negativity often rears its ugly head. Yukino has a chip on her shoulder regarding her homosexuality and is pensively self-conscious of her sapphic preferences, and questions whether or not she has a future at all in any of her passions.

Yukino can often come across as patronizing or overbearing when her “big sister” instincts come into play, self-righteously believing she knows what’s best for all those around her. Even if her intentions are pure and benevolent, she can often stick her nose in business that isn’t her own and find herself in over her head.

Misanthropy and vengeful, spiteful envy. Yukino subconciously hates those who has what she wants but can’t have, as she considers them reminders of her failures. She secretly yearns for the demise of those who have it better off than she does, and  takes a secret joy in seeing others knocked down a peg.

BODY LANGUAGE:

Confident, self-assured posture. The woman stands fairly tall for her gender and age, augmented by a prideful swagger in her step and a dense musculature.

One hand often clutching her camera, the other usually planted firmly upon a hip. Gotta be prepared in case you get a great shot at a moment’s notice...!

Observant, analytical eyes. Yukino isn’t the most book-smart in the world, but her street smarts have taught her how to read a room and get a grasp on what any given opposing party might be up to.

Frequent head-and-neck gestures, more animated with tilts and turns of her head than anywhere else. Her black curls often wave and follow her head as she speaks and reacts.

Strong, almost exaggerated facial expressions and bodily gestures. Yukino’s smiles are warm and wide, her scowls are full of raw malign and hatred, her laughs are loud and from the belly, and her sadness is raw and from the heart. Her arms and body often contort and move errantly as if at the whim of her emotions.

AESTHETIC:

Utilitarian - Yukino is more liable to favor the practical and reliable over the frivolous. Hand tools, simple leather jackets, function over form.

Inner city streets. They’re like home to Yukino -- they’re where she spent her youth, and where she often spends her young adulthood as a photographer.

Sapphism. She’s gay, folks, and it’s a pretty big part of her identity and vested interest -- more butch-leaning with a stated interest in more traditionally feminine women.

Magazines, photo albums, art installations. Inspiration for her half-hearted passion, constant fuel to get better and do better.

Family structures and dynamics. For one reason or another Yukino often finds herself in found families and alternate group situations, and usually takes a socially dominant role with that in mind be it a “big sis” or a matronly figure.

SONGS:

A Perfect Circle - ...keeping me from killing you // and from pulling you down with me //  in here, i can almost hear you scream // give me one more medicated peaceful moment // because i don’t want to feel this overwhelming hostility

Smashing Pumpkins - what moon songs do you sing your babies? //  what sunshine do you bring? // who belongs? who decides what’s crazy? //  who rights wrongs where others cling? // i’ll sing for you // if you want me to // i’ll give for you // it’s a chance i’ll have to take, it’s a chance i’ll have to break //  i go along just because I’m lazy // i go along to be with you //  [...] // i’ll hear your song // if you want me to // i’ll sing along // [...] // i’m in love with you

Bjork - i follow with my eyes ‘til they crash // imagine what my body would sound like // slamming against those rocks // and when it lands, will my eyes be closed? // i go through all this // before you wake up // so i can feel happier // to be safe again with you

Pianos Become The Teeth - because i say it all // when i say nothing at all // so let’s say nothing some more

Touche Amore: i swear there’s nothing innocent in these eyes // because i’ve seen dead friends // and i’ve seen murder // and i’ve done things i wish i hadn’t done // but that’s not to say i’m not afraid // of long nights dwelling on past mistakes // because with life moving as fast as it does // i’ll still have stories to fucking tell

[mayuzumi-yukinoo]

LITTLE CHARACTER THINGS

just a fun little character game. fill in the below categories with 3-5 things that your character can be identified by. repost & tag away !

TAGGED BY: @aragakisan, on technicality. TAGGING: Whomever reads it, presumably!

EMOTIONS / FEELINGS:

Concern; often worry for the disenfranchised.

Rationality and reason.

Anger; bull-headed and stubborn.

Humor, often sardonic with a touch of observational wit.

Protectiveness. Yukino is defined if nothing else by her compulsive need to keep those around her safe.

GREETINGS:

"Hey!” Familiarity, often spoken loudly and accompanied by a wide grin.

A smile, tender and crinkling on strong features. Those she’s closest to get to see the softest sides of her.

“What’s up?” Casual and intrigued, a means to strike up a conversation and show interest in the other party.

COLORS:

Slate gray. The color of her St. Hermelin uniform and the color of her favorite hat and armored coat -- Yukino isn’t much of one for fashion, and utility often comes before style. The color of metal, iron resolves and unbreakable walls.

Orange. The color is warm and welcoming, reflected often in the forms of both her Personae and portraying the fire in her spirit. Open arms and the rising sun on the horizon.

Brown. Dark like her eyes, lighter like the coffee complexion of her skin. Earthy and rugged, not unlike her own rough disposition, and far from flashy as it gets. It’s a humble, unassuming tone.

Mustard yellow. Yukino’s lack of fashion sense reflects the most firmly in her gaudy yellow jeans, hugging her muscled legs more tightly than they should.

Crimson. A hue often associated with anger and malign -- her temper is short and her vengeance is quick, just as easy to smile and open her arms for an embrace as she is to scowl and swing her fists.

SCENTS:

Smoke. Compulsive need to be a good role model be damned, Yukino smokes and the stench clings to her clothing like a bad reputation. As much as she tries to keep her habit a secret, the scent is damning as catching her in the act. 

Chemicals. When not out documenting the world around her, Yukino often retreats into the darkroom to develop her film. The stench of Kodak D-76 is burned into her nostrils by now.

Snow on grass and concrete. Wispy nights on the streets of Mikage-cho with only the flame of a cigarette lighter to warm her; the hours spent under St Hermelin’s occupation of frost and ice.

Blood. Others’ blood on her knuckles or on the ends of her knives, her own blood dripping down her chin and running down her throat from a broken nose.

Burnt ozone. Yukino’s Personae specialize in the power of nuclear fusion, and as such any time they make themselves known the very atmosphere around her is sure to burn.

CLOTHING:

An armored jacket, grey with prominent shoulder blades. Ever since Yukino got jumped by who she thought were her best friends she’s always come prepared, and the armor helps to accentuate her bulky frame. It sends a message: not to be fucked with.

A black turtleneck tank top; sleeveless and cut off above her abdomen. Odd a choice of garment as it is, it’s a matter of vanity: it shows off her musculature, Yukino’s physique something she’s grown quite proud of.

A grey beanie, branded Ostrich with the appropriate brand insignia above it. Yukino is rarely seen without this on account of her mess of hair: without it it’d be all over the place and in her face, black curls snugly restrained under the cover of her favorite hat.

Yellow jeans, with a black stripe down either outside seam. Tacky, garish and questionable, it says all you need to know about Yukino’s fashion sense.

OBJECTS:

Four throwing knives, finish tarnished and blades nicked from constant use and frequent throws. She’s owned these knives since high school, and they’re one of the last remaining relics of her Yanki years. They’re never far from reach, Yukino constantly paranoid that she’ll encounter a situation where she needs to use them.

A vintage analog camera. This is Yukino’s prized possession: it was passed down to her from her mentor and idol Shunsuke Fuuji upon his tragic death. The stories this camera could tell, the things its lens has seen are unspeakable; Yukino can only hope to one day be of worthy skill and passion to be able to use it.

Yukino’s scrapbook, filled to the brim with memories of the past and present, with room to grow for the future. Yukino began taking pictures compulsively in high school as an extracurricular credit, and she’s made a habit of tucking away her memories in the old, worn-out scrapbook for safekeeping. She’s always made a habit of remembering where she’s came from and where she’s going, and the scrapbook reflects that.

A set of bisonskin drums, a relic from the St. Hermelin incident. The rhythms played upon these drums are what first enabled her to awaken to Durga, her true self and Ultimate Persona -- she swears that the resonance of the drum heads are identical to that of her own heartbeat.

A letter from Mrs. Saeko, written as congratulations when she finally graduated from St. Hermelin. Mrs. Saeko is... important to Yukino, to say the least, and beyond this sentimental reasoning it’s a source of pride that Yukino was recognized for her strive and success.

VICES & BAD HABITS:

Reacting with anger and hostility at the first sign of strife. Yukino’s old habits as a yanki die hard, and she’s unable to escape the frustration and violent thoughts her former life of crime was born of. Like her compatriot Tatsuya, she prefers to speak with her fists before asking questions.

Cigarettes. No good street gangster is without her smokes, and Yukino fit the image perfectly. When she left that life behind, this is one vice she was unable to shake: the comfort of nicotine often provides her a much-needed dulling of the edge her nerves right on, a moment of calm in overflowing rage.

Unshakable insecurity and uncertainty. While comfortable and confident enough in her own skin, traumas and internalized negativity often rears its ugly head. Yukino has a chip on her shoulder regarding her homosexuality and is pensively self-conscious of her sapphic preferences, and questions whether or not she has a future at all in any of her passions.

Yukino can often come across as patronizing or overbearing when her “big sister” instincts come into play, self-righteously believing she knows what’s best for all those around her. Even if her intentions are pure and benevolent, she can often stick her nose in business that isn’t her own and find herself in over her head.

Misanthropy and vengeful, spiteful envy. Yukino subconciously hates those who has what she wants but can’t have, as she considers them reminders of her failures. She secretly yearns for the demise of those who have it better off than she does, and  takes a secret joy in seeing others knocked down a peg.

BODY LANGUAGE:

Confident, self-assured posture. The woman stands fairly tall for her gender and age, augmented by a prideful swagger in her step and a dense musculature.

One hand often clutching her camera, the other usually planted firmly upon a hip. Gotta be prepared in case you get a great shot at a moment’s notice...!

Observant, analytical eyes. Yukino isn’t the most book-smart in the world, but her street smarts have taught her how to read a room and get a grasp on what any given opposing party might be up to.

Frequent head-and-neck gestures, more animated with tilts and turns of her head than anywhere else. Her black curls often wave and follow her head as she speaks and reacts.

Strong, almost exaggerated facial expressions and bodily gestures. Yukino’s smiles are warm and wide, her scowls are full of raw malign and hatred, her laughs are loud and from the belly, and her sadness is raw and from the heart. Her arms and body often contort and move errantly as if at the whim of her emotions.

AESTHETIC:

Utilitarian - Yukino is more liable to favor the practical and reliable over the frivolous. Hand tools, simple leather jackets, function over form.

Inner city streets. They’re like home to Yukino -- they’re where she spent her youth, and where she often spends her young adulthood as a photographer.

Sapphism. She’s gay, folks, and it’s a pretty big part of her identity and vested interest -- more butch-leaning with a stated interest in more traditionally feminine women.

Magazines, photo albums, art installations. Inspiration for her half-hearted passion, constant fuel to get better and do better.

Family structures and dynamics. For one reason or another Yukino often finds herself in found families and alternate group situations, and usually takes a socially dominant role with that in mind be it a “big sis” or a matronly figure.

SONGS:

A Perfect Circle - ...keeping me from killing you // and from pulling you down with me //  in here, i can almost hear you scream // give me one more medicated peaceful moment // because i don’t want to feel this overwhelming hostility

Smashing Pumpkins - what moon songs do you sing your babies? //  what sunshine do you bring? // who belongs? who decides what’s crazy? //  who rights wrongs where others cling? // i’ll sing for you // if you want me to // i’ll give for you // it’s a chance i’ll have to take, it’s a chance i’ll have to break //  i go along just because I’m lazy // i go along to be with you //  [...] // i’ll hear your song // if you want me to // i’ll sing along // [...] // i’m in love with you

Bjork - i follow with my eyes ‘til they crash // imagine what my body would sound like // slamming against those rocks // and when it lands, will my eyes be closed? // i go through all this // before you wake up // so i can feel happier // to be safe again with you

Pianos Become The Teeth - because i say it all // when i say nothing at all // so let’s say nothing some more

Touche Amore: i swear there’s nothing innocent in these eyes // because i’ve seen dead friends // and i’ve seen murder // and i’ve done things i wish i hadn’t done // but that’s not to say i’m not afraid // of long nights dwelling on past mistakes // because with life moving as fast as it does // i’ll still have stories to fucking tell

[greesngrass-archive-blog]

DOMINIC GREENGRASS is NEUTRAL in the war, even though HIS official job is as A MEMBER OF THE WIZENGAMOT. the TWENTY EIGHT year old PUREBLOOD is known to be DILIGENT and ASTUTE but also PRUDENT and DELIBERATELY IGNORANT. some might label them as THE JUDICIOUS fc: charlie cox

dominic tiberius greengrass is the youngest of three waaaaay too rich children

his mother, brigid, was an herbologist better known for her best selling books. the estate’s gardens and greenhouse are her life’s work and joy, and all three greengrass boys share fond memories of spending time with her in them, learning about it all even when they didn’t care, being forced to nurture pots of plants in hopes to turn them into responsible people. she still has a small army of handpicked herbologists and gardeners working for her, making her greenhouse and gardens a true paradise and place of research, and focuses on that mostly nowadays

roland greengrass, his father, left his position as chief warlock of the wizengamot three years ago, and has been working on a book ever since, yet to be finished. he’s been considering looking for a high position in some wizarding school, maybe ilvermorny, but has not made up his mind yet. he truly instilled in his children a sense of hard work, strict planning and following the law. oh, and he’s got an order of merlin, first class. quite the legacy to live up to.

the elder brother, sebastian, is a diplomat. the middle child, nathaniel, a well traveled herbologist, who owns his own research center. they are all very busy, and the oldest two already well married, with a few children. the three try to keep in touch, reuniting monthly at the main family estate for a weekend or so, and they also send each other letters?? cute

he’s so proud to be a greengrass all the time tbh like yeS I AM slightly better than u i am a greengrass pls

the greengrass family doesn’t have a history of joining extremist groups, but they are well integrated into pureblood high society, and a part of the sacred 28. they’ve always held positions of power and rivers of money, and are especially skilled in the art of arranged marriages, something that has made their ties to the rest of the wizarding society so much stronger. marrying a greengrass or into the greengrasses means a life of family protection, luscious estates and travels, a name of power and a spot in the lovely grey area between blood purists and blood traitor families, appeasing both sides just enough

it came as no surprise for him when, a couple of years ago, they started looking for someone. it’s been a long process, dom usually only involved when they needed a final yes or no, and he said lots of no’s until jacqueline showed up. a quick conversation, a dinner the next day, and the choice felt pretty easy. after all, worked for generations, why wouldn’t it work on him? so he’s now betrothed to jacqueline nott !!!!

so far it’s been A Gift honestly?? he?? has so much in common with her and it’s been so fun and niCE it’s something so calming and certain?? the future doesn’t seem as scary anymore??? help

he was always told to not get in the way of blood purists, but to not shun them away, and he still lives by that. ignores the war away, and never encourages the D.E.s (extremists are never a good thing). the only thing he follows is the law, as closely as possible 

he was sorted into slytherin but honestly the hat took a few extra minutes because it was almost a tie between that and hufflepuff. 

has retinitis pigmentosa, which pretty much means that he started losing some sight as a child, like the ability to adjust to different lighting or walking around at night, and tunnel vision, and gradually has been losing more and more of it (he was officially diagnosed when he was 12). as of right now, he barely has any left, so he’s legally blind (mostly just notices light, it’s reflections, flames). doesn’t talk about it. ignore ur problems awaaay

he truly is a fan of ignoring everything that’s serious when it comes to him. things are never really dealt with but shh

hogwarts is not the most disability-friendly school, although it’s improving but also, it was the 60s, so as his eyesight diminished the school’s measures weren’t really enough. he BROKE his right leg in 6th year in a moving staircase and the greengrasses immediately SUED the school, forcing it to rush improvement. his disability could never be a stop on his path, the greengrasses always made sure of it. 

but also, even if it’s the 60s and wizard society is very separated from muggle technology, there needs to be some stuff available for visually impaired people so i'm just gonna fill in all the gaps canon left - there is a spell that turns any writing into braille, another that turns braille typing into writing. both are very very advanced spells, and don’t always work 100%. 

uses muggle things like braille typewriters (they were still super nosy in the 60s-80s so his was charmed to not make a lot of it) and talking calculators. his parents got him a mobility instructor as soon as his diagnostic was made and his lack of vision was enough to justify it, aka someone who taught him how to adapt, how to move without crashing into things, how to properly use a cane. that greengrass money also paid for the best braille tutors possible, which he started learning right after his diagnostic since they knew it would only get worse. a braille tutor followed him to hogwarts during the school months too, coming in for a bit every day to keep helping him with braille and later on just to print over his work, made in braille, so that teachers could read it and mark it. eventually the tutor stopped coming, as he perfected the spell that turned his work into regular writing.

doesn’t care for the war. he greengrass especially are a family of rich well connected people who don’t engage in the most extreme views of the rest, so he was never raised with a specific hatred

ppl at school couldn’t make him develop that view either. he nodded along in order to not start shit and tried to dissuade them from the more intense stuff

never starts shit. so self aware of his words and what they’ll do

the Wise and Responsible friend

doesn’t let loose enough

dom’s great at charms?? his best subject tbh. 

will try to fix everything all the time???? always has. whenever a problem arises, he’s there, trying to make sure you don’t even need to think about it

he’s?? kind. he’s a kind person. he was always The Softer Friend, the one who gave silent hugs when all others did was act stoic, the one who never got any of the jokes and laughed for minutes after they were explained to him, the slightly socially awkward kind friend who had everyone’s backs but also gave them shit about their snobbier attitudes and mocked their speech patterns and was the jokingly asshole-ish slytherin friend you’d expect

has been rising the ranks inside of the ministry, usually in the offices nearer to the minister. just got a job at the wizengamot, being one of the youngest there !!

likes his job? quite a bit? he liked the administrative stuff before, and then the powerful political roles, but he finds the law much more interesting, and is very open about much needed reforms in the british magical judiciary system. he’s so far from the revolutionary type, he just wants,,,, soft changes. pls fix this broken system.

he’s also good at it?? homeboi gives Good Speeches when he needs to convince his fellow wizengamot ppl, and he always pays so much attention and notices tiny details and logic flaws, plotholes - u can’t escape dominic justice. 

people suspect he only has it because of his family’s influence, which kinda fucks him up mentally because he questions himself and his work and position in the world a lot. 

he loves music so much?? any type of music. muggle, wizard, british, international, even when he can’t understand the words. can often be seen dancing. it’s like awkward dad dancing but?? endearing. if he’s in a good mood, there’s loud music playing in his house and he’s grooving around

dom definitely enjoys the lavish lifestyle his family money and his own now can provide him. wears the best clothes, lives in an expensive but small house, enjoys his vacations in Style™, like my man has that greengrass trademark money and knows how to spend it

loves buying people gifts??? takes a long time picking them too

he’s the kind of person that would take in his friends in danger into his house and hide them, but have a serious lecture ready for them the next day. probably tell them they need to find somewhere else to stay since they’re there bc shady stuff. BUT HE’LL TAKE THEM IN

he’s alecto and amycus’s cousin?? how fun?? also somewhat related to the blacks and lestranges bc pureblood families?? all related lbr

parallels: randall pearson (this is us), george o'malley (grey’s anatomy), leo fitz (agents of shield), chloe decker (lucifer), simon lewis (shadowhunters), ravi chakrabarti (izombie)

[dev-hub4fixfict-ut]

Know & Determinate: II- the surface and a lame witch; chap 1

/racism, /hate crime, /physical assault, /alcohol, /c slur, /unsanitary, /witchcraft, /panic attack, bad writing. like, really bad. i wrote this when i was in a bs brainspace in highschool to cope.

a self-insert fanfiction where i write what happens after my runs of undertale. written in google docs and idk what im doing. Frisk is 12, use they/them, has a bullshit life, Chara also uses they/them, and is still here, and never meant for all this to happen, they hate each other, and Sans is still, and forever will be, a mess.

_________

here we go with that stuff !! im pumped enough to not collapse of stage anxiety ah ah.

please do not confuse my complicated style for pretentiousness. im but a wordy insecure fool. with a super touchy soft spot for a small fat skeleton. and lots of imagination.

this isn’t something for fontcest and frans shippers and gross ppl who villainize and misgender kids and call gay couples “hawt sin” tho. u guys are uglies and i hate you, go away. ;U

_________

“Sans” i deadpanned.

He perked up a little, his forever-fucking-smiling expression mirroring my tone -with his eyes. Eyes’ sockets. Those were the only hints of what he was actually thinking. Because his fake smile -fake, i’m so sure of it, so fake smile, it only ever dropped when Frisk’s puppeted body struck him down, the very only moment he stopped- wow getting sidetracked. Anyway.

“Sans.” i repeated. i need to repeat myself a lot. Verbal dyspraxia i think. He didn’t seem to know that and squinted a bit more, indication of his annoyance/suspicion/mistrust/wariness. ‘s what his squinting usually means, directed at me. Can’t blame him. “i…” Truth is, i don’t actually know what to tell him. ‘s just. i love him, and i know it sounds crass and misplaced blurted out like this, but as a consequence, i’m worried about him. A lot. Constantly. i hope bpd isn’t blurring my judgement too much. ‘m not sure he does take care of himself as well as he deserve. And look who’s talking, right ? But he is surrounded by loving friends and family. And has his brother. He could get help. Good help.

Damn my hesitance was making him unnerved. I could see it in how he turned to me, bone hands switching in and out of his pockets. I only hugged myself tighter, hands vaguely gesturing.

“i… Could i offer you to crash on my couch sometimes ? Or bed even, i don’t use mine a lot, actually. Since it’s, y’know, closer to a good part of your odd jobs than your house and Papyrus isn’t home then ?” Dang that was weirder out loud. i kept a blank face to show i was serious. i was- the guy looked even more tired than me. Tells something.

“uh. kid, you got something going in the back of your mind ?” Damn he took me too seriously. Squinting hard at me now, he was the perfect studied statue of calm judgement. Damn he was good at those.

“Well, safe from letting you get a good deserved rest more easily, not much !!” i made sure to answer jovially, doing the whole ‘punching the air round and low in excitement’ thing. We could be two playing the happy clown game.

i had found him at Grillby’s, like usual. his food was getting cold. like usual too. what was less usual was the tense manner he held himself when i came in, and how he “straightened” up, like he had forgotten himself, when i greeted him, pat on the shoulder. he would have flinched but he wouldn’t have wanted me onto him about it. so his eye socket had violently twitched -violently as in, noticeably, by his standards, and...uh lost myself again, fuck.

What i mean is that he was having a harsh day, probably after a harsher even night, his ptsd acting up (‘m not supposed to know ‘bout that. He himself doesn’t even know it. i just read. and relate), and i wanted to help him. now, maybe i had been presumptuous thinking i could…

So that’s why i insisted, vigorously,

“And uh-we can watch some trash movies and stuff, anytime, and like you can just stop by during your in-between shifts, even if i’m not home, i’ll give you a spare key and-” sudden stop. oh no. He gave me The Hand.

He indeed did, holding it up, like he wanted me to slow down. i did, obviously, but uh. did that mean i was overwhelming him, or annoying ? Was there a difference ?? Did it matter ???

Not now, because he was talking, and internal anxiety mini attack made me split focus, and i wanted full focus on what he said, on him.

“look kid,” i hate he calls me that “i appreciate whatchu tryin to do here” meh.liar. spill it. “but i can’t accept. paps would be upset if he knew i was squatting-”

“No he wouldn’t !! He would call it ‘GREAT FRIENDLY HANGOUTS OF REST’ and be very happy we uuh spend time together and stuff-”

“ok” glaring at me now, probably pissed i used his bro’s good nature to shot down his excuse. Heh. Two play at that game. “but here’s the thing.” he advanced himself up to me, nearly out of his seat. i held my ground. uh oh. “we a r e n’t f r i e n d s.”

Ouch. i mean i knew this but. Ouch. His eyes hadn’t blacked out on that last part, but nearly, too. Could be that his already hazy eyelights had just dimmed in exasperation but um. That didn’t feel any better. i gulped. Just a little. Just to keep down the new forming clog in my throat. Just a little one. i knew this.

“i know this !! but look, we could be, if we hanged out !” i didn’t dare say more. My eyes stung a lil bit too much for my liking and while never embarrassed by my tears, didn’t want to embarrass him.

‘s not like i was seriously hurt. i knew where we stood, and that my crush was going to stay that, a crush. what really stung was the utter lack of trust and the hatred-like suspicion he had of me. that and also feeling like i’m watching someone drown, but can’t help, because when i reach out they swat me away in fear i would be the one pushing them further. That’s probably more of my saviour complex dramatizing everything, but it’s bad to be helpless when you know someone, and you’re the only one to notice where they’re headed, because they’re great at pretending, but it’s like looking at yourself in a mirror for you. Get me ?

But. That’s fair. We hadn’t started well off. At all. Oh boy we hadn’t…

___

Seems like now would be a good time to make a small recap, uh ? ‘bout how i ended up knowing that dude, falling in love, analysing his mental shit and all that jazz. Yeah.

me, some lame girl who won’t eat for days and forgo sleep just because, who doesn’t shave but my actual hair, doesn’t do makeup, who doesn’t smile when I’m told to and who grins for no apparent reason whenever a new daydream pops up, because i’m kind of stuck in my own head because it’s better in here. because of… trauma crap. i get by by drawing and playing games where i can just save everyone.

i don’t know if you get what i mean. i sorta hope you don’t. Because it hurts. But at the same time it’d be awesome if you did, because y a y let’s relate about crap !

Don’t know if it matters, too.

Could help to get a few friends. But being  an asocial, asexual, kinda aromantic mess kinda throws that out of the window. You’d think so many A would get me higher in life eh heh heh heh heeeeeh… not funny. i’m not funny. My life is not funny. The way i react to it can be, though.

Like, that one time i was hanging out on my own, outside the bar i had first entered with classmates, as i tried to be less of a hermit, in a bar street and fled because i can't stand alcoholic jerks, and then saw this crowd of tough guys ejecting a small and stout person in a blue hoodie from said bar by fucking throwing a chair at them through the fucking window, and seeing that this little dude is a monster, and knowing they’re gonna get busted down to a puddle of dust by the mastodont looming over them if nobody intervenes ?

i reacted funny.

---

“Yoo-ou ffffffuking cunt, I-I’m gon’ mash you to the dirt yo motha shitted after getting fucked by yooour d-d-dog of a oold man-”

As he spits the words, an obviously very drunk dude stumbles closer and closer to the monster, his hands shaking like he wants to grip their head and smash it.

Freak it. This son of a bitch may be slurring like he drank the whole city, but he’s for sure all out to kill him ! Get up and run, little dude !

“c’mon man, “fucking cunt” , fun king or earl, it’s still a bit early to speak ‘bout mothers isn’t it?”

[i recognize him]

Pfft- what ? i snort loudly from my spot.

Okay, this is a gloriously  bad, stretched pun -but now is not the time for goodness’ sake ! Run, dude, run -wait, is that a skeleton ?!

[i recognize him]

Oh my fuck, how dumb is that dude, going out in a popular bar at what-the-heck-hours in this stupid city ! There were shootings and assassination attempts on the monster gym leader not even two blocks away yesterday ! And you just go in there with a face that screams “LOOK AT ME” ?! Are you stupid or do you just lack of basic preservation instincts ?!

The brute keeps advancing, spouting shit, a sort of gang backing him up, toward mc comicbonedude, a guy i assume, given the voice, but with monsters you never know, gender’s a myth but not them- who’s still on the ground, backtracking, crawling with a grin it didn’t drop the whole time, is it stuck or something and doesn’t look like getting up holy crap he can’t get up, the more hatred a monster is confronted with the hardest it hits he must be low on hp or something he’s gonna get killed

[i recognize him]

mc comicbonedude cracks another joke or is it his ribs cracking under the viscious kick he just got he’s thrown nearer the spot i’m chilling in. Another kick. Nearer. They can't see me, i’m well hidden in the shadows. Another kick.

This time, mc comicbonedude gags out a pun about sole-ution to the problem being-

FUCK OFF!! a gun is being drawn out.

Screw this i’m not witnessing a murder, fucking racists fucking xenophobics fucking city full of fucking shitheads there are other people around here why isn’t anyone but i don’t want to die either that's how it is, eli, always strive for yourself.

i get up fast and sprint to the monster, screaming about cops and a monster attack and insults, anything to spark a bit of panic, deck a scrawny fucker the one who.was.going.to.shoot.him. and aim for the skeleton, who yells.

[i recognize him]

i grab him by the hood and run in some narrower streets, hearing yells after me, and the anxiety is building up a little too much for my usual adrenaline numbing spell to work-

i trip on some trash and my own feet -same difference, fall over, roll, get up that’s how you do it eli, hit and roll, but back on your feet. And keep running, holding the monster close to my chest he’s warm that means he’s still alive and ok, right, left, dodge the you whore you bitch get back here you bitch and the bullets yup i’m good at thiiiiiiis- a bullet still grazes my ankle, I stumble, nearly faceplant, and it hurts but like a sting and I’m still alive. The adrenaline keeps pumping and i feel so light, i sprint into a shabby alley, panting like a dog, i think i’m crying, and drool is mixing with it. i can feel the headache coming, and mc comicbonedude is heavy enough to slip in my arms why won’t he move ? Is he dead ? Is he in shock ?

[i recognize him]

i run to a staircase, you know, the rusty and slippery metal kind outside buildings for fire escape ? Exactly what i need, as the assholes keep firing at me, huh. I climb, to the top, jump to the next building am i really doing this as me for real and run. i don’t know if they’re still after us, my ears won’t stop ringing, and i can’t tell it apart from sirens. I’m on a four stories building running to save a skeleton who

who starts emitting blue and yellow light and what the hell is happening why am i floating holy fuck i’m two inches away to be totally out of not-looking-near-enough-at-all- concrete to fall on.

[i recognize him]

[*focus insufficient]

[*procedure fails]

He’s silent. Sprawled two meters away from where I’m hanging

h-how did i

Looking exhausted and furious, like a cornered dog who has already taken on a tiger in the past, and from his left pupil there’s a cyan blue and yellow flame ? crackling, or bubbling ? or is it just flashing. can’t tell eyes too blurry. and dark blue is surrounding me at my sternum is that monster magic it’s beautiful, did i get headshot i can’t thing straight no. i can’t breath. It’s holding me in place. i can’t breath properly. i try to call out for him, he’s just overreacting in an understandable alarm but

please don’t crunchy crush the goofy girl on the cracking hard ground but when I try, I look at his eyes. One is glowing a fiery but disturbed cyan and yellow, with shards of red here and there, and the other is blank dead. Black. i’m terrified. He pants and that’s the only sound for a while. He’s alive. Good. Am i going to still be alive after this ?

“DON’T DROP ME DON’T WANNA DIE DON’T KILL ME OKAY IT'S THE LAST TIME I’M HELPING OUT ANYONE I PROMISE I’M SORRY PLEASE DON’T KILL ME. DUDE PLEASE.”

“wha- ghh- !” He flinches like waking up. He lets go- lets go of meeee-

“AAAAAAAAAH NO !” He gasps and grasps again. i only slipped a meter into nothingness “Oh please please please i really don’t wanna die, and not falling, it looks like suicide i don’t do that i managed not to so don’t spoil it all ok i-”

“what- kid no stop r-”

“SO SORRY DON’T KILL ME DON’T-”

“ kiiiid please” he’s clutching at his skull now.

“PLEASE D-”

“shut. up”

Ok. Not talking.

Whimpering and sobbing a bit, but he better take this because i’m having an anxiety attack and it will escalate into a hyperventilation fit if he doesn't lower me on the ground and I can't calm down.

“Please don’t kill me.” blurts out anyway of my gritted teeth.

A white light bulb alights in his empty eyes socket, and the glow in the other dims. Could he not see me before ? Hey, is that a crack across his skull ? Augh that looks like it s t i n g s.

“ H-hey, there. You- ah, fffuck this hurts. You okay ?” i try.

Nothing. He stares at me, as if watching out for something. I can feel the power around me wavering. He needs to come to his senses before I go kiss the dirt.

“P-please don’t leave me hanging.” He snorts, but keeps scrutinizing me, shaking. ‘s like he’s half understanding the pun, half not there. Silent.

“Woah, that was bad, even for me; guess i’m just that high.” i attempt a feeble finger gun.

He holds back a laugh “pffft- what the hell, kid- oh fuck.” He starts, realizing what i’m hinting at. He drags me back to the ground. i still can't move, but breathing is easier. i whimper again -heck i’m surprised i didn't piss myself- and draw out a looong sigh.

Now we stare at each other awkwardly is not strong enough to cut it. And i observe, that i m may be sweaty, tired and teary, but he looks bad.

His skull is definitely cracked across his left eye, he won’t stop shaking, sweats profusely and seems to have troubles breathing so monsters skeletons breathe and pant. Ok. Do they cry too ? Cuz that weird red stuff oozing from his damaged eye doesn’t look like tears but that can’t be blood… right ?

He looks horrible, if only physically. But the way his eyes sway, with this grin I can’t find the reason for, it worries me more. Is he ... having an episode, or something ? i mean he could be and be totally inoffensive, but ? Was he the one attacking first back at the bar ? is he really having an episode of some sort ? i’m not too nice when i’m having an episode either.

Should i cry for help ? i can't budge from his grasp.

And i know i shouldn’t but i’m feeling an attack coming up- the restraint is triggering my ptsd ridden ass…..

Let me go y-you there c’mon i can’t take this not my shit nuh uh lemme go lemme go lemme go

“ lemme go…” woah not pathetic at all. “Let me go.” no reaction, try again “LET M-” i can’t move my mouth.

The pressure fucktupled, and it’s like my lungs and my muscles are being crushed.

“ok buddy, pal, chum, whoever you are, what the fuck ?”

i can’t answer you, you dumbfuck you just muted me

“i mean, nice save and all. thanks i guess. but who the heck and what on earth are you up to ?” both of his eyes went black oh my god what did i do to your highness Hecate like seriously now how did i end in such a mess.

“H-how about we both calm down first, and talk next ?” i seem to break through the mute. ok good, deep breaths, count backward from ninety to zero, relax, we’re both freaking out, he’s as spooked as you-which is funny cuz he’s the skeleton- focus on breathing.

Still no answer. “Look, i, i get it, bad freak out, i interrupted you back there, i get you’re fucked up-” nothing but his eyes narrowing “ but i’m cool. Swear i am. i’m cold and m’name is uidelsib. you can call me sib ! Cool enough ?”

i extend my hand, ready to give him a strong good ole handshake, but he doesn’t take up on it.

Instead he stays frozen, “Not cool, dude,” hand still extended, but lowered, as if he could grab me again “ r e a l l y not cool,” i insist, and his bones are, he’s. shaking ? Yeah. Shivering violently, like he’s super cold too, which is pretty normal given he’s what. Up with me on a high building, one, two hundred meters in the sky, exposed to the icy wind ? Figures.

His bones are making this clattering clickety sound, stresses me out damn. He’s studying me. But it’s also like he can’t focus. Shivering too much. Shock, probably. His eye socket’s still oozing that red shit. Not thick enough to be blood, and too scarletish, but what do i know ‘bout monsters.

[oh, what do i don’t]

He takes a step toward me.

“ not fucking cool, not in the least-” i let out, jaw still clenched.

His bones rattles one last time, on the cement ground. His knees buckled under him the next moment he moved. His arms couldn’t support him.

i approach him, concerned. Once the pursuit’s adrenaline and the near death experience done with, my mind is settling, and i can think more clearly. He, on the other hand…

He stirs as i come closer. Tries to growl something i can’t decipher, but it comes out as a whimper, pained. My heart constricts in my ribs. Fuck, i hadn’t meant shit to go down like that. i seem to have a talent to fuck up, but i only wanted to help.

i tell him that. He grunts, doesn’t acknowledges me further, and quivers as he tries to stand up. He can’t though. I see it from where i am, he shakes enough to make a dr.pepper bursts.

i snort at the image, a skeleton shaking a bottle fixed on his spine, then flies away with the pressure- w o w i’m gone far. Need a bed. Asap. Concentrate on the situation at hand.

He, though, doesn’t react well to my laughter. He immediately stiffens, and

goes slack. Unmoving on the ground. He fainted ? i go on a hunch and inch closer, on the tip of my toes, hunched over myself, because i can’t tell if he’s dead or if i’m going to be.

[i recogni-- --- [REDACTED]]

i shake my head furiously. i can’t let those thoughts take my attention away from what’s taking place here and now.

i’m close enough now. something like a meter away, i can see him still shivering, and hear him rasp some breaths out. So he can breathe-

[i knew tha- [REDACTED]]

Not Now. i need to focus, i got a seemingly dying monster mere steps away from me.

i crouch down, slowly. My leg muscles burn enough i’m trembling too and i’m pretty sure my teeth are chattering, the noise mingling with his bones against the asphalt.

He’s still face down, arms limp on his sides, and i spy his eyelights peeking at me, way less sharp than when he had me pinned in the air just. one minute ago ?

i creep closer, he tenses, i stop.

“You’re ok.” i whisper. “We’re ok and we’re leaving.” i try to keep my voice from wavering but meh. ‘s not like there’s much face to save, for both of us.

i reach my hand toward him. He doesn’t move. i put it on his back, barely pressing, he tenses. And then disappears with a ping.

[ (*did you think i was going to stay here and t--- -- -) [REDACTED]]

NOT NOW I SAID. GE E. WHERE DID HE Go ?

He’s back right where he was. He basically just blinked in and out of existence. And he’s looking even more exhausted, if that’s possible, sweating bullets and heaving noisily, before he quiets himself. He’s also glaring at me, but meekly, and i’m not too scared anymore to be honest. He looks more frustrated than anything, although i can guess he’s actually scared to death. HAH.

“Hey you’re ok, i said, i just. Need to get us somewhere safe. Yeah. Not here.” i croak out. i’m starting to feel the freezing wind more, too. i can’t afford to stall and give him time to think. i can still hear the sirens. They’re looking for someone. And i don’t want the police on my back, even if i didn’t do anything reprehensible in the end.

So i slide my hands under him, still making sure i don’t touch any possible sensitive areas, and decide to go for the armpits, and hey i might get a tickle out of him ! ...ahah no. As i try to heave him up on his… surprisingly tiny feet ? did he lose his shoes or. Whatever. He just stays as silent as he is limp. And boy is he limp as a rock. Not quite as heavy though, good.

“You’re lighter than you look-” might as well try to make some conversation “and uh, can you walk ?” Or at least i can try to fill the heavy silence. Let’s just forget the “tried to kill you” thing. We’re both in deep crap anyway, and i can understand having baggage.

He really won’t walk though. He barely makes a sound too. If i hadn’t heard him sooner i’d think he can’t talk or something. i barely get a grunt out of him as i put him on my hip, which isn’t hard given he’s like. Half my size. Fun sized boney menace.

And i begin to trudge down the stairs- not the ones i came from, i don’t want to get caught if the cops are back there and it’s too far anyways. i want a bed. Now. A lone pillow would do.

He doesn’t seem much different, dangling on my side barely sparing me a glare as i look down at him, checking if he’s not dusting yet. He stopped “bleeding” at least. He still got that nasty huge scar.

i can feel him staring when i’m not looking. He’s still wary. Probably only lets me pull this only because he can’t not. Heh, at least he doesn’t seem to mind that i’m carrying him like you’d do a toddler. i just, need my other arm to grip and grab at the staircase bars when i slip.

Nah he looks more disgusted to be touching me than anything. Everytimes we get into more contact, because i’m bumping a wall or stumbling on my own feet again, i can distinctly feel him shudder, and try to get away. It’s just a little distracting, and unbalancing, and a lil tidbit hurtful. But i can’t blame him. i’d be throwing a fucking fuss and dishing fists if our places switched.

At least it’s relatively calm. We didn’t meet anyone, maybe a few rats rummaging garbage, and some monsters hurrying home, Whimsuns i think ? No one that paid us any mind at least.

So we’re still walking slowly when rain hits us hard, and nearly sends me on my ass. Doesn’t help the shivering, but now it’ll clean the streets out for sure. It’s something past midnight, i don’t wanna find anyone out at this hour.

But i’d kinda appreciate finding my way to somewhere because

“Aaaaaaaaaaa a h ahhh i got no idea the fuck i’m g-going…” Ah fuck. i said that out loud. And now my passenger's giving me his best ‘are u fuckin kiddin me’ stare. He’s. Very unamused.

“L-look, this isn’t, this isn’t my part of the city, okay?? i’m- i’m tryin’ to g-get us to the monster neighbourhoods, but i don’t know the fuck where it is, alright ?!” My tone escalates with my pitch, and i nearly slip again as he flinches away from me. Damn it, not helping eli, still in an episode or something. Don’t yell.

“Y-y-yeeah okay, look. ‘m sorry i cried but i’m in shock and still lost, kay? S-so maybe help or som’thin’ ?” Indications would help yeah. And now he’s listening, he’s also less shaky and putting his weight on me in a way that hinders our progression less. Good.

He nods. Good.

“Good. Gooood good good good.” i’m on autopilot now, following the skeleton’s grunted directions. i take a few wrong turns every now and then, but what can you do with nonverbal advice, and we end up in a part of the city i recognize, because i’ve seen it on tv and wanted to come look around anyway.

The gym stadium. A big building, at least big for a monster building, given the prices get surprisingly higher when they’re buying, stylized like a Japanese dojo, with anime advertisement posters (whether for the dojo or the animes i got no ideas) on the walls and- oh my gosh are those- fish, dolphin, shark and starfish stickers on the windows.

“Perfect !” i half yell, significantly lighting up. Mc comicbonedude looks at me like i’ve grown a second head, and i give him a big manic smile, obviously stressed out. My right eye might be twitching a little too. Does that when i’m under pressure. He decides to go back to slumping against me and questioning his life choices, and i take that as an ‘okay GO’ to proceed with my genius only just made up plan.

i march up quickly, -i want this DONE WITH. NEXT TIME i GO ON AN IMPROMPTU RESCUE MISSION I’M TAKING MY LEAD UMBRELLA AND A CHANGE OF CLOTHING- to the tall doors, who thanks fucking gods are under a porch, that saves us from being drenched anymore, and pound it with all i got.

“OI BLUE WATER GAL ! OPEN UP!!! I KNOW YOU’RE STILL WORKING, YOU ALWAYS BRAG ABOUT NOT SLEEPING AND PROVIDING A 19/24H SERVICE ON TV!!! OPEN UUUPP!! B I T C H! OPEN!!UP!!”

Skeleton is googly eyeing me like the second head i’ve definitely grown started reciting the ten commandments to belzebuth themselves,

[and he’s not too far off]

but i don’t care my dude i am d o n e. If i get welcomed with a fist to the face i don’t give a diggly doogly dang fuck so long i can get inside and lay down. Even on the cold ass tile floor. i’m don-

“OI PUNK, WHAT’S UP WITH THAT RUCKUS ?? YOU TRYING TO PICK A DUEL WITH ME ? CUT IT OUT UNLESS YOU WANT A POUNDING COMPETITION FUFUFUFUFUFUH~ I’M OFFERING THOUGH !”

Ah, right, i’m still hitting that door. Ouch, that’s gonna swell. Oh welp.

But the voice came from...up?

i step backward some, under the rain, ugh, and look up to see, yup, a noodly armed blue fish person with bright scarlet red hair pulled up in a bun, all sweaty, a poor guy in a chokehold, peeking out of the second floor window, taking in the pouring rain with gusto. A gigantic lightning bolt, quickly followed by loud ass thunder, comes to compliment her boisterous apparition, and she grins- smirks? wide locking her single eye on me, the lighting making her golden teeth flash.

She comes down to greet my miserable form fast, not taking the stairs, but jumping out of the window (much more graciously than mc comicbonedude previously), having let go of her victim- sparring partner previously, good gods, and lands at my feet like nobody’s business, to then bolt up, eager to see the intruder to her night sessions.

And Undyne, former Captain of the Royal Guard of Monsterkind Underground, all steel like blue scales, glinting golden slitted eye and sharp mouth, now renowned Master of Fights in her stadium, among monsters and humans even more, already black belt of more martial arts than i know of, and fresh survivor of one of the biggest terrorist hits on monsters yet, is staring me down, from her easy two meters height, like i’m her next meal.

i gulp. i’m so fucked.

i’m so fucked and not just for the fact that i am royally gay and all, but also cuz…

[i recognize her]

[she was so hard to f---- [REDACTED]]

[couldn’t figure out that all we had to do was to run and then ---- -- ------- [REDACTED]]

“Uh ?” Her gaze has finally caught on my now bundled up passenger, who’s shivering in cold rather than fear, on my hip, who only lazily grins a

“sup”

“YO SANS, WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH THIS WIMPY HUMAN AT THIS TIME OF THE NIGHT ?? AND Y’ALL ARE SOAKED !! GET INSIDE, NERDS !!!”

[i know him]

i follow hollowly the orders and get inside, feel a weight leave my side-kinda miss that already, to then feel a big fluffy towel drape over me. Then i sit down. In the hall on the ground, probably. Wooden floor is in my direct line vision. Uh. Thing is well taken care of, all waxed and clear, who would have guessed.

[i know them both. very well actually]

[Chara would be nervously giggling if they were here]

[wonder what they’re up to]

[and Frisk too, obviously]

[what about Flowey though. no idea what the lil shit is up to in pacifist endings]

i’m so f UCK E D.

---

Aaaand that’s how i ended up rocking back and forth in Undyne’s dojo’s main hall for half of the night, muttering about video games and fucking witchcraft gone wrong again and shit fuck damnit, i guess it was denial all along those last two, six months ? And oOH WELP, guess i did cradle like a toddler my fictional crush for the last, what, half hour ? Whoopsies.

Hhhhhhhh

fuck that ink witch status, that was not planned.

___

When i finish my flashback, and it’s been something like six months again since, got to “meet” his super cool great bro, not on his account though, Undyne just had to introduce Papsy to the dweeb that “saved his big brother” and also Asgore, Toriel, for a quick ‘thanks you’, even a small interview with Mettaton, that made a hit on the Undernet, and mingled a bit with monsters- i’m friend with Chesty Brun now (Burgerpants), and Alphys, because we’re following the same mangas-

he’s already gone, burger nearly untouched, ketchup covered fries half eaten and drink finished, and i’m tempted to ask Grillby, who is hovering close behind his bar, fretting a little, in front of my frozen form, if “you’re gon throw that out ? sure i can’t finish ?”  Because it’d be a real shame to let all that delicious grub go to waste. But that’d be creepy as fuck, even moreso taking my feelings for the small dude, and his against me, so i don’t, and he’ll probably feed it to his pet lava rock anyway, so i stop hugging myself and rocking back and forth and go back to my seat, waving him off with a sorry smile, and go back to sullenly sipping my vanilla milkshake.

Can’t blame Sans.

He’s cautious. Understandable.

i know what he’s had to put up with.

[and so do all of you]

[dirty brother killers ?]

[i hope not]

[i really wonder how’s Chara doing…]

AAAAAAAaaaaaaah how do i turn this shit off ?? Let me pretend i’m normal in a normal situation stupid brain thing !!

...ah. screw it. this magic milkshake is fabulous. That’s totally what i’m crying about.

“Don’t worry Grillby.”

_______________

ye don’t worry my dudes. can i call y’all that ? ‘s gender neutral. ‘m a demi girl, and you can call me “my dude”, my dudes. wow what a bull of crap i pulled here, sorry trans girls and enbies

this isn’t beta read cuz i’m on my own and english isn’t my native language, i’m french, so plz forgive mistakes.

i had some drafts lying around my google docs for a year now, mostly about bugging and kissing snas, put them together and thought i’d do an actual Thing with it all. this isn’t good, i know it.

lest to say i have no idea what i’m doing !

and don’t know when this’ll update, it it does. i had the motivation to finish this cuz there was no clients at the restaurant i worked at back in july. blah blah blebs blah.