#and ive explained the Actual situation to them a million times and its not getting through and ive just given up

[s-ccaam-era-crepe]

god i don't know if i can do this anymore

[destinysbounty]

Huh. I just dug up an old fan-theory i came up with back when i was like 15. And while its definitely way too weak to hold up against any real scrutiny, it at the very least makes for some mildly interesting fanfic fodder so i thought id share it with the greater fandom hivemind.

(Dont come at me about the holes in this theory btw, i was practically a baby when i came up with this and it was one of my first attempts at theory-crafting. Trust me, ive come a long way since then)

Anyway, the theory goes like this:

While in the lighthouse, Dr. Julien builds a replica of his son. But try as he might to get it to turn on, it never actually works. Whatever special spark brought the first Zane to life is inexplicably absent from this one. So he locks it away in his basement, and never gives it the light of day again. This is the reason Dr. Julien never told Zane about Echo, or brought him with them - because at the time, Echo wasnt even functional. Wouldnt even turn on. Was nothing more than a lifeless shell collecting rust in the basement.

So how, then, did Echo become sentient by season 6? Great question! But uhh heres where the theory kinda starts to go off the rails. So buckle up, folks.

Basically the theory goes that when Zane died at the end of s3, his soul still lingered in Ninjago. And his disembodied spirit eventually found itself drawn to a vessel that was similar to the one he'd lost - one his father had built yet long abandoned. But his new body lacked the memory storage contained within his old one, and his resurrection effectively gave him almost complete amnesia. All he could remember was his name and his purpose (to protect those who cannot protect themselves).

Meanwhile, when Titanium Zane says hes a replica, hes actually completely right about that. Some fragments of his code left behind from his visit to the Digiverse gained sentience and inherited Zane's elemental power, creating the Zane we know and love today.

But the original Zane, the one that died fighting the Overlord, actually ended up becoming Echo Zane. Which then would have explained why Zane had so many holes in his memories after being resurrected, and why his sixth sense became much less active as well - he was only made from fragments of the real Zane's code, after all.

Now, as the big smart grownup i am today, i can look back at this theory my baby self had crafted and poke about a million holes into it. But...idk, i always feel nostalgic about this theory in spite of all that. Not just bc it was one of my first fan theories ever, but also bc it would have such fascinating narrative implications if true.

Like, the idea of Mr. E being Echo? Well, if we apply that to the concept of Echo being the Original Zane, then his hatred for Current Zane takes on a whole new dimension. It also gives me a lot of emotions about the whole Ice Emperor situation, as well as Zane's apparent discomfort towards his own statue.

And what kind of position does that put the rest of the gang in? If they had to choose between saving one or the other - the Zane who died for you, or the Zane who lives for you - which one would they choose? Could they choose? How long do you have to love a replica before it starts to feel more authentic than the original? And in that case, who becomes the 'real' zane? The one you love, or the one you lost?

Again. This theory has more holes in it than the Titanic. Cut me some slack, i was an idiot child and also a novice at making theories. But giving credit where its due, i do think it at least raises some interesting concepts. And Ive always casually wondered what would happen if it turned out to be true.

Like i said. Fanfic fodder.

[twodimecastle]

fifty bucks & six months.

spencer reid x gender neutral reader new relationship, secret keeping nonsense, 4.5k words, ao3 a/n; turns out i love writing texting fic but tumblr destroys the formatting rip

zero months.

You smile conspiratorially, extending a pinkie towards Spencer and he gives you a skeptical look.

“You know the odds of being found out immediately are-” he starts, but you cut him off.

“Astronomical, I know. I know. But don’t you think it’ll be fun to see how long we can push it?” you wheedle, not caring that your voice sounds more like begging than is strictly dignified because seeing the way Spencer’s nose crinkles in amusement at your heavy handed persuasion is too adorable to pass up. You scoot closer on the couch, tapping the end of his nose with your pinkie finger, letting him catch your hand between his as you continue “I think we’ve got a good shot at hiding it for a little while. It would be like a game.”

Spencer draws your captive hand to his lips, brushing them across your knuckles and watching fondly as you forge ahead in your campaign to persuade him, enjoying the show and the attention too much to tell you he’s already on board. Your eyes are shining with the prospect of the caper, and you’ve made no move to take your hand back from him, and Spencer’s pretty sure he’d be more than happy to sit with you in this moment forever. “I mean-” you go on, gesturing animatedly with your free hand, “you’re like-a really good liar when you want to be. And everyone else always forgets how good you are at it.”

He snorts at that and the sound makes you light up, eyes tracking the arch of his brows, the warmth in his soft brown eyes, memorising the way he looks like this; utterly unbothered, completely at ease. It might be your favourite version of him, but that race has always been a tight one with no clear winner in sight. You have lots of favourite versions of Spencer. Twisting your hand in his, you tangle your fingers together, savouring the way you feel his thumb glide delicately along your skin and the unhidden joy in his face at the simple show of affection.

Time to play your trump card.

“$50 says we can hide it from the whole group for at least six months. If everyone figures it out before then, you win. But if not everyone has worked it out by then, I win.”

The mischievous shine in your eyes is irresistible, and Spencer smiles, disentangling one of his hands from yours to extend his own pinky finger.

“You’re on.”

The words barely make it out of his mouth before you’re colliding with him, pressing your lips to his.

two months.

“So, how long has this whole thing been going on?” Derek’s question catches Spencer off guard, and, based on the way he can see you freeze in his peripheral vision, takes you by surprise as well. Sliding into the driver's seat of the SUV, Derek continues “I hope you didn’t think you were gonna be able to keep me in the dark for long, pretty boy. You should know better than that.”

Following mechanically after him, Spencer takes the passenger seat, trying to frame his next statement as carefully as possible as he hears your door close and the car start. “We were-going to tell you guys-” he begins uncomfortably, glancing back to you for support, but you look just as on edge as he feels. “We were just gonna-keep it to ourselves for a while-before telling Hotch and everything-” he tries again, the mounting tension levering his shoulders higher and higher with every passing moment, but then Derek just laughs, shaking his head.

“Hey, I’m happy for you, kid. For both of you.” He spares a look at you in the back seat through the rear view mirror, and you can feel the tension in your jaw relax, the furrows in your brow straightening out at the note of approval in Derek’s voice. “I’m glad you two finally figured it out,” he says, fondly, and you laugh.

“I bet Spence we could keep it from you guys at least six months,” you explain, reaching forwards through the centre console to link your pinky with Spencer’s, and the touch of your hand releases the last of the tension he had been harbouring as he covers your hand with the other one of his own. He knows Derek clocks the motion, filing it away in his mind somewhere, but he doesn’t care about the scrutiny so much right now. Not when your hand is so warm and comfortable in his.

Derek reaches for the dial on the radio and flicks through the channel, thinking about something, and as you watch, a slow mischievous smirk spreads across his face a moment later before he glances first at Spencer and then at you.

“I’ll tell you what,” he says to you, and Spencer can feel a familiar grin tugging at his own lips as he watches a plan take shape in his friend’s eyes. “I’m happy to sit on this information for a while for a cut of the winnings from whichever one of you comes out on top.” He snorts good naturedly as he continues “I have my own bet to win with Prentiss, so if you two help me win that one, I’ll cut you in too.”

“A quid pro quo of sorts,” Spencer says slowly, and he feels your fingers tighten around his, as you snort softly, and he knows instinctually you’re grinning the same way you always do when you’re winning a game. “I think we can do that.”

Derek grins, turning the music up as he nods, eyes on the road. “Then you two love birds have got yourselves a deal.”

two months and two weeks.

PG: youre not as slick as you think you are ;)

YN: ???

PG: ;))))))))) you should invest in some concealer for your work bag sweetness or tell the good doctor to pay more attention to whats visible in your work clothes

YN: oh my fucking god wait how do you even know thats how that happened

PG: im all knowing and all seeing im like the omnipotent goddess of the fbi

YN: derek blabbed

PG: he sang like a canary but also im an omnipotent goddess im also totally clued in on the whole bet situation with em so for the low low price of every single juicy detail about how this adorableness went down you can buy my silence :)

YN: im getting derek decaf coffee on all coffee runs from now on >:( traitors dont get caffeine

PG: darling sweet angel i need deets all of them like immediately

YN: >:( fine ok so. after that case down in georgia a few months ago? the weird one? with the creepy mother son thing?

PG: omg yuck pls dont remind me im here for the CUTENESS not the MURDER

YN: sorryyyyyyy anyway so spence was like being super weird about it all on the plane and whatever but he was doing that super annoying thing where he ignores it and says hes fine so everyone leaves him alone

PG: YEAH why does everyone here do that ALL THE TIME its SO annoyingggg

YN: ikr its insufferable and like super not subtle ANYWAY. spence was being weird and whatever and i just. refused to let him sulk on his own or whatever like i could tell there was something bothering him and so after work i insisted that we were gonna get like shitty diner food or whatever and watch a movie and he knows better than to say no to me

PG: smart boy

YN: so we got fries and milkshakes and then went back to his place to watch a movie and he was still like weird and silent and like brooding yknow? but whatever just figured hed talk about it when he was ready so i put on a movie and offered to make popcorn and then he was just staring at me and he looked so SAD and TIRED and i thought id done something wrong like the poor guy looked like he was gonna cry and i was panicking over fucking popcorn and then he says ‘why are you always so nice to me?’

PG: oh my god hes like if a sad victorian orphan was actually a triplicate phd holder

YN: i was SO thrown off i was like spencer. spencer were best friends. ive been forcing you to hang out with me for years now why do you THINK im being nice to you its bc i care about you asshole and then. like after another million years after letting me sweat it out over whether hes about to cry for like fucking years the asshole grabs my hand and says. i shit you not. ‘you know im in love with you, right?’ !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

PG: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

YN: anyway hes my boyfriend now :’) dont tell anyone tho gotta win the bet

four months.

Lingering by the elevator, you glance around at the uncharacteristically silent office building, waiting for Spencer to leave the bullpen. The sound of his footfalls drawing nearer makes you smile and you mentally applaud yourself for suggesting the two of you remained behind after disembarking from the plane, taking advantage of the manufactured privacy to take the same car home, back to his apartment.

When he sees you waiting for him, he can’t help the soft fond smile that tugs at his face, as he reaches for your hand, sliding his fingers into yours with a gentle squeeze, the quiet of the building allowing him to indulge in the show of affection. You return the squeeze, leaning your head on his shoulder with a yawn and as he presses a fond kiss to your temple he’s rewarded by a sleepy hum of approval from you that sends a rush of quiet joy shooting through him.

“At least we won’t be sleeping in hotel beds again tonight,” you say, voice weary, and Spencer nods as he shuffles you into the elevator. The doors slide shut and the elevator starts to move and in the moment of absolute privacy, you steal a kiss, tilting your chin up to catch his lips with yours, revelling in the soft huff of surprise he lets out, even as he smiles against your mouth. Even after months, the simple act of kissing Spencer still feels new and thrilling somehow, like you can’t quite believe it’s something you’re allowed to do.

His nose brushes yours and he breathes “unless something big comes up, we get a sleep in tomorrow too,” and the way you beam at him sends his heart racing in his chest, unable to look away from the fondness shining in your eyes.

As the two of you exit the elevator and make your way through the Bureau car park, you tuck yourself against his side, wedging yourself under his arm with a happy sigh, eager to get yourself horizontal and asleep as fast as possible. Spencer brushes his lips against your temple again as the two of you close in on his car, almost free and clear of the office when a voice behind the two of you brings you up short.

“Reid?”

Spencer is reacting before his mind catches up, turning on his heel towards the sound of Hotch’s voice echoing through the parking lot, conscious of the incriminating way you’re still tucked against his side, even as his brain is rifling frantically through any possible excuses for the current circumstances.

“Hotch-” you step away from Spencer, cheeks flaming, not wanting to chance a look at him. “I-we-thought everyone else had gone home,” you trail off lamely, trying your hardest not to balk under Hotch’s ominously impassive scrutiny. A second passes, then another, and the short silence feels like months, or years even as the three of you stand locked in a stalemate.

“I take it the two of you would prefer to keep this under wraps?” He asks, finally, and it registers with Spencer, somewhat belatedly, that Hotch’s tone isn’t admonishing. It isn’t enough to dissipate the tension coiling in Spencer’s muscles just yet, but he spares a glance at you as he nods, and a moment later, Hotch gives the two of you a curt nod of his own. “I’ll tell you what,” he says, a shade of irony colouring his voice. “If you two fill out the paperwork for in-team relationships for me, I’ll keep it to myself. I understand privacy is hard to come by in our office.”

The words take a while to fully sink in, and you’re conscious that you’re standing there blinking and gaping at your boss like a bemused fish for a good few seconds before you’ve composed yourself enough to say “absolutely, sir. Of course. Thank you.”

Hotch nods again, heading towards his own car, and as he passes the two of you, a brief smile flashes across his face.

“Congratulations, you two. Get some sleep.”

four months and three weeks.

Spencer isn’t sure how late it is, but he knows you’re not asleep yet, the faint glow of your phone screen casting faint distorted shadows across his room as your free hand rests lightly on his chest. In the dark blue twilight of his room, the space feels undefined and dream like somehow, the line between his mind and his surroundings blurry or indistinct somehow, and as you huff out a near silent laugh at something on the screen in your hand, a thought rises to the surface of his thoughts like flotsam on an unwanted tide.

The more clinical part of his mind notes the autonomic response in his body, the way his heart lurches unpleasantly in his chest, heart rate rising with an influx of cortisol through his nervous system, automatically rifling through ways to control the anxiety response. Age old instinct surges forwards, starting to push his spiralling anxiety down out of sight so as not to bother you with it, but then your hand shifts infinitesimally on his chest, fingers curling in the soft fabric of his pyjama shirt, and for once his body is miles ahead of his brilliant mind, your name is leaving his lips before he’s really aware of it happening.

Your gaze flashes up from your phone at the sound of his voice, soft and hesitant, and you let the screen go dark as you set it down. You can feel Spencer’s heart hammering against his ribs under your palm, and your brows knit together in concern as you shift closer to his side, tracing gentle circles over his shirt with your fingertips, the repetitive motion intended to soothe, though you’re not sure if it’s for his benefit or yours.

“Yeah, baby?” You ask softly, working hard to keep the rising worry from your voice. After three years of friendship and almost six months of dating, you know him well enough to sense when his propensity for overthinking and catastrophizing is slipping out of his control. You can feel his chest rise as he inhales sharply, whatever he’s about to say cut off by second guessing, doing nothing to pacify your concern. “Spence? Is everything okay?” You ask again.

“This-bet-hiding our relationship-it’s-” he trails off, throat tight as he rolls onto his side, facing away from you, and smushing his face into the pillow, already wishing he hadn’t said anything. You’re the kindest person he’s ever met, but offering up this kind of raw insecurity feels like pulling teeth. Even if it’s you. Especially if it’s you. He doesn’t know if he’s ready to find out if you care about him enough to stay when his racing mind gets the better of him. The pillow muffles his voice as he says “never mind.”

You feel your own heart rate tic up in response to that, matching the wild beat of Spencer’s that you could feel under your palm only a second ago. “Baby, talk to me. What’s on your mind?”

He shakes his head, face still hidden in the pillow. “It’s stupid.”

He can feel the rush of your breath on his back as you sigh, and your voice is almost achingly patient as you say softly “it’s not stupid if it matters to you.” There’s a long pause, and you press yourself against his back, settling close and letting your hand slide over his side to rest on his chest, the heat of his skin sinking into yours even through his thin shirt. In spite of his height, he feels so small as you wrap yourself around him, drawing closer, trying to reassure him without yet knowing what he needs to be reassured of. “Spence?”

“Are you ashamed of-being with me? Is that why you want to hide it?” The words are almost whispered, the sound almost lost against his pillow and your heart sinks, plummeting faster and further than if you’d dropped it off the side of a skyscraper. You should’ve known he might worry about that, should have realised it might have felt that way. Remorse rises hot and bitter in your throat and you swallow it down, trying to steady your voice.

“Spencer. Sweetheart. No. Never. I could never be ashamed. I love you. I’m so sorry.” Your arms wrap more tightly around him and you bury your face against the crook of his neck, the tension you can feel in every inch of his body making you feel more cruel and short-sighted than you already do. “I’m sorry I didn’t realise it might feel like that. I could never be ashamed of being with you, Spence. You’re my favourite person.” He takes the kind of shaky, shallow breath that comes with trying not to cry and your heart breaks a little more as one of his hands slowly moves to cover yours where it rests against his chest, just over his heart.

As his hand rests over yours, his thumb strokes lightly along your knuckles, and he knows you know him well enough to notice the way his hand trembles, just a little, because then your hand is shifting against his, turning to clumsily tangle your fingers with his, holding tighter to him as he tries to collect himself, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath as his eyes squeeze shut. He can hear the contrition in your voice as you say softly “I’ve never really liked having people know everything about what’s going on in my life. And I love our friends but-something like this, that’s so-special? So new? I wanted to be able to keep it to just us for a while.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice comes out a little shaky, scarcely more than a whisper, and it’s more than you can take as you pull back and gently force him to roll over to face you. He’s not crying, but his eyes are glassy and you recognise the fight to keep the tears unshed in the tight set of his jaw and the hard line of his lips. Leaning on your elbow, you lift your free hand to gently smooth out the furrows of his brow, letting your fingers linger along the planes of his face.

“Why are you sorry,” you ask gently. “You don’t need to be sorry, baby. Not for talking to me about things that bother you. We can tell everyone else tomorrow, if you want? We can call off the bet. Derek will live. If he’s got a problem with it I’ll turn all his shirts into crop tops.”

He can tell the joke is a last bid attempt to make him smile, to ease his fear, and it works. In spite of the anxious weight in his chest that feels like it’s pressing him into the mattress, Spencer laughs weakly, meeting your eyes, and he watches as a relieved smile breaks across your face, releasing your lower lip from where you’d trapped it worriedly between your teeth. The unmitigated affection that floods into your eyes renders him momentarily breathless as he takes in the moment. You’re still here, still trying to take care of him. Just as kind and steadfast as ever.

“No,” he says eventually, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you down on top of him like a living weighted blanket, letting your warmth chase the bulk of the tension from his body and luxuriating in the way you curl into him, one hand sliding into his hair. “We shouldn’t call off the bet. We still have to take Emily’s money, remember?”

Your sleepy laugh is the last thing he hears before his eyes close and the feel of your body wound around his lulls him to sleep.

five months.

SR: Can I talk to you about something?

DM: you dying or something? that’s a really fuckin ominous text to recieve out of the blue

SR: I’m not dying, why would that be what you assumed? I just have a question.

DM: just a figure of speech but what’s up?

SR: It’s about your bet with Emily. What’re the terms for it?

DM: wym?

SR: What exactly did you two make the bet about? What needs to happen in order for you to win the bet?

DM: does this count as collusion?

SR: Technically yes, but calling it collusion implies a certain degree of illegality.

DM: whatever anyway the terms i made with em were that you’d make some kind of move before your birthday but she reckoned you were gonna need some kind of near death experience to do anything about your crush why?

SR: I’m just making sure I have all the information.

DM: what’s going on pretty boy? you planning something?

SR: Maybe.

DM: not a helpful answer reid is everything good?

SR: Everything’s fine. We’re just figuring some stuff out. Nothing to worry about.

DM: is there something you’re not telling me?

SR: Don’t worry about it.

five months, three weeks and six days.

In the chaos that was the scramble from the briefing room to the jet, you haven’t yet had the chance to speak to Spencer about the outcome of his most recent thesis defence panel. By the time you’ve got a moment to breathe, the jet is underway, coasting across the country towards Montana, the whole team settled in for the six hour flight. You corner him in the tiny kitchen area of the jet as he’s making a mug of mediocre coffee, fingers tapping out an absent minded rhythm on the countertop as the coffee machine whirs, clearly not paying attention to anything outside of his head.

“Hey, boy genius.” He jumps, whirling around, eyes wide with surprise, and you smile fondly. “So?” You demand, and Spencer raises an eyebrow in confusion. You snort, rolling your eyes as you elaborate. “Your defence panel. Did it go okay?”

You’re shifting your weight and fidgeting restlessly with the belt loops on your pants and as he studies you for a moment, it occurs to Spencer that you’re nervous for him over this outcome. The thought brings an almost giddy smile to his face.

“You know this isn’t my first thesis defence panel, right?” He says mildly, deliberately burying the lede, enjoying the way you scowl in irritation too much to answer your question right away, too enamoured with this display of concern on his behalf.

“Don’t be difficult, Doctor Reid. It’s still a big deal.” He just shrugs noncommittally, and you huff, swatting his arm lightly. “So did it go well?” You ask again, eyes narrowing as you try to dissect his microexpressions, trying to discern the answer he seems determined to keep from you for yourself. A few seconds later, he relents.

“I can now add degree number six to my wall.” He confirms. Getting degrees doesn’t hold the same rush of pride for him now, the accomplishment feeling somewhat less exceptional as he acquires more of them, but the way your face lights up with pride for him reminds him how special the things he’s capable of can be. You’ve always made him feel like more than the sum of his parts somehow, like something infinitely more precious than he always assumed he is.

“I fucking knew it. That’s amazing, Spence,” you say, chest warm and full with pride and love, and his almost shy smile in return is enough to make a decision for you in a split second. Your hand dips into your back pocket, drawing something out, and you carefully hide it from view in your palm as Spencer tracks the motion curiously with his eyes.

Your eyes are shining with affection and something that looks like mischief and the way you’re smiling at him is more than enough to divert his attention as you step closer, just barely noticing as you slip something into his hand. You’re dangerously, distractingly close now, and he’s conscious, if somewhat distantly, that neither of you is concealed from the rest of the team, scant meters away in the seating area of the jet. But you’re smiling and close enough for him to feel your breath on his face and suddenly your lips are on his, and even after nearly seven months of being able to touch you like this, it’s enough to make him forget everything else as he melts into the contact, savouring the warmth of your skin and the faint smell of your shampoo.

You pull back a second later, the kiss over almost as soon as it started, but it’s enough to attract attention, and you can hear a belated ‘oh SHIT’ from Emily in the main cabin of the jet. In your peripheral vision, you can see money changing hands, your friends scrambling to react, but you don’t look at them, choosing to enjoy the bemused, affectionate look on Spencer’s face as his brain catches up to the events unfolding around the two of you.

“I was tired of keeping it a secret,” you say fondly, loud enough only for him to hear. “You win.”

Blinking in confusion, he finally tears his gaze away from yours, fingers uncurling to reveal the fifty dollar bill you had pressed into his palm right before you kissed him. The penny drops and he snorts with laughter, shaking his head in half hearted indignation as his other arm loops around you, pulling you in, letting you rest your head on his shoulder, hiding your face from the rest of the team as he kisses your temple, revelling in the way you wind yourself around him in response.

“I was gonna do this in like two days. I wanted you to win,” he murmurs against your hairline, and he can feel your faint laughter.

“Too bad, baby. I’m used to getting my way,” you say, pulling back to steal another quick kiss before peeling yourself out of his arms with a wink, turning to face the onslaught of ‘care to fucking explain that’ and ‘I fucking told you so’ from the rest of your friends, tugging him with you by your joined hands.

[volfoss]

ships to rate: bruabba and gyjo? maybe even yasugap if you're up for it

ok ur about to see such a long post its nto even gonna be funny, tldr i love them all

also gonna put a fic i really like for them if ive read one/ a fic idea i wanna write plus maybe ranting, this is not coherent but my spelling isnt too bad

post under cut bc its very long

Bruabba:

my loves my lifes

they r so soft for each other

the fucking rain scene when bruno extends his umbrella

and how bruno is like trying to hold back his emotions post abba dying

in case its not super obvious by the sheer volume of bruabba content i reblog this is one of my otps

ALSO the fucking boat scene where abba pretty much is like yeah ur home bruno

ajdskjghdsgjk

hc that they r meeting up in the afterlife w nara and having a good time (also read a phenomenal fic about it that ill link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33118039 it is emotionally fucking me up days later <3)

dads dads dads but bruno is the caring dad that just gets you and takes care of you in the most gentle way and will sacrifice himself over and over again to see u happy and abba is the sitting in the armchair and u sneak in like 2 minutes past ur curfew ur busted but i was also worried about you

these two men own my whole heart (also my ao3 history i exclusively am reading bruabba and dadbacchio)

i have so so many thoughts toward them like yeah i just love them so much

i will never ever not write them as in love

t4t and bi4bi

every single canon thing about them makes me so soft but i think what makes me softest is just how its so clear that they rely on each other in situations

fanon interpretation rant rq:

but how some ppl really interpret them so ooc that its just like bruno mommy and abba cares about literally none of their kids (explanation on the mommy thing is bc most of things that do that are weird bc they really r treating bruno like a single parent who is raising the gang on his own and thats all when abba is literally there and caring about ppl (ie the purple haze incident w giorno, like he wasnt the most nice in his wording but why else would he be like hi move away from the danger if he didnt care??)

ppl also just tend to not really do the separation between how abba acts around others and how he acts towards bruno and has him being kinda aggressive towards him for literally no reason when they r literally so soft w each other

and also they r both so fucking pretty and i am in love with them both

if i think about them too long i will combust and i am blaming u solely for that one

ship dynamic of savior x savior bc they both really did save each other and i love them sm

fic ideas for them r they both live and leave passione and take their kids w them <3 (gang would crumble but thats not my problem)

ok also another hc that i have for them is that bruno will buy larger sweaters and wear them and give them to abba if hes having a rough time, they have a shared closet imo

10/10 ship

Gyjo:

OK OK OK

FEELINGS ON MAX

these guys r also my beloved but in a depressed x very happy but hiding depression way

the the fuckingn way that gyro ltierally risks everything in the ringo roadagain fight to save jognny

and the way that johnny is literally fucking broken post gyro persiheing and adopts his speech pattern a bit and ugh

I am obsessed w gyjo but i think the funniest crack ship is poly but w diego and they all fucking suffer (fic that sold me on that: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22887796/chapters/54705517)

i cannot find the one fic that i really loved for them but needless to say i am soft w them living and just being together

update i found it: its a modern au and really really sweet! https://archiveofourown.org/works/31821940/chapters/78780595

one day ill actually write the fic idea i had for them which was basically they live and they dont sell the land they got from the sugar mountain arc and johnny wanted to start somewhere fresh anyways and gyro adopts marco and they make a lil log cabin and have a nice rest of their lives

i am a massive sucker for their ship

ALSO how johnny is always laughing at gyros jokes

smth i wish we got more of in canon were those moments where they just chilled and talked and had those kinda interactions

fandom complaining time!! the fucking way that some ppl just really take the gyro funny and johnny submissive trope is like my biggest pet peeve. did they not read sbr?? did they not see the multiple times that johnny has murdery eyes? i think personally its ppl infantilizing him a lot and it makes me really frustrated

ok also a fic that really really fills me desire for a they all live and everyone is happy is this one: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22812394

i love them sm but unfortunately cannot have coherent thoughts about them :(

10/10 ship

Yasugap:

gonna start this out w saying i did mildly speedread through jojolion so i dont have as many big screamy thoughts

BUT!!! them!!!!!

their canon interactions r the cutest thing and even if they werent, id ship it solely to spite joshu

josuke is a million trillion times better for yasuho (not just bc of how joshu is a fucking freak and is absolutely the worst i would run him over with a dump truck)

i really like how they both r so happy around each other but i think my favorite scene w them is when yasuho has to explain to josuke that hes crying and hes just like :') yeah

but they have so so many cute moments and the ending makes them the only couple to make it out of this list

i love how yasuho is just like willing to drop anything to help him and how they help each other out a lot during the whole time (if im remembering right?)

their dynamic is just 2 sweethearts

also love the moment that hes like look away yasuho :) then proceeds to beat a man up

they r canon (as is everyone else sorry <3)

i dont read a lot of part 8 fic since i need to reread it to properly understand the plot post like chapter 65? so i dont have any recs or complaints

BUT i do have a few hcs!!

i think yasuho would get josuke matching phone straps or phone cases

and when they move in together, i think they would raise sugar gliders (or potentially kidnap squirrels from the local park)

i love all of yasuho and josukes interactions but oh man every time that josukes past gets brought up i do start bawling

they both mean the world to me and how their romance is just built on such a clear foundation of trust and care it makes me so soft

they both give off such dog ppl energy tho and i love that for them

ALSO ok the way that yasuho helps josuke w his memory and is always there for him

i will never ever ever get over them

but i think one of my favorite scenes is the one right at the beginning where she gives josuke his name and how that plays into the rest of the story with him discovering his identity but still clinging to the one that she gave him since it was him, he wasnt just kira or josefumi he was josuke

10/10

if i think about them anymore i will start sobbing, the last chapter wrapped every last thing up so well and im so so glad that it did

[cybertronian-cupid]

ive been down in the pits of depression lately and i was wondering, how would tfp Megatron help his s/o???

In almost any way they need him to.

He isn't a passive partner, and seeing his s/o numb to the world and struggling drives him mad. But 4 million-or-so years of defeating your opponent by blasting, slicing or tearing them apart doesn't help in this situation.

... Or does it?

The phrase you used is The Pits of Depression. He spent quite an important portion of his functioning in The Pits of Kaon.

So, the two of you, (yes both of you, this isn't something he can fix for you) would build a strategy how to handle the opponent of your Primus-forsaken-pit, before it gets overwhelming.

His approach to most, if not all problems, is to look at it as if it were a living being.

In case there isn't enough information about "the opponent", he wouldn't just stand there and wait for them to strike, he would be trying to figure out what he can before that happens. Is it more powerful during the day? Night? When his s/o is refuelling? When it makes them forget to do that, or to take care of themselves all together?

It would take him some time to get it into his processor, that that kind of analysis is hard to do when you feel powerless and defeated before you even fully wake up.

Knockout, and whatever specialist he and Soundwave provide for s/o and their needs, do a better job of explaining the effects of depression to him and also provide the strategies that work for most humans.

"It's all in their head." "Are you attempting to mock me, human? Of course it's all in their head, is that not where your species processor is located?"

By the time that interaction occurs however, Megatron has accumulated quite the amount of information and sees the patterns, so he can actually provide the information for the most efficient strategies to be implemented.

The rest? All up to his magnificent S/O. He has given them the armour, the sword and shield, shared with them the strategies he used and still uses.

His role in the battles to follow is not of leading. But of support.

There is praise and clearly displayed pride when his s/o does something they used to tell him is hard or impossible to do. Especialy if it still feels that way.

Any victory is a victory and he will defend this belief with fury if anyone tries to claim otherwise.

Try him. Go on. Tell him His Spark is not winning. He dares you.

And when depression seems to be winning? When nothing seems to be working?

He is there for them, with stories, flights, sights, his towering presence. Servos ready for them to fall into and rest, while he studies their opponent and counters its blows with twice the strength.

As long as he knows his s/o will stand back up and fight another day, or tell him they need help loud and clear, he WILL be there. One way or another.

[violentviolette]

How do u cope with perceived rejection? I'm at the point rn where I don't want to leave the house bc I don't want to interact with anyone anymore.

oof, that sucks. im sorry anon.

honestly for me its a combo of a lot of little things and techniques but also its still hard sometimes. I also don't have any issue when it comes to strangers. I dont care if random people don't like or reject me or think negatively of me I only care if the people I care about and want to like me don't like me. if that makes sense? so sorry if some of this isnt as helpful for those kinds of situations

but okay so my main steps are usually firstly reminding myself that I'm not that important in peoples lives. and I dont mean that in a self depreciating way so just stay with me. most people are self centered in that were all the most important person to ourselves, we live in our own brains and with our own thoughts 24/7 and so were constantly thinking about ourselves and our behavior and our life and all the things going on in it that are important to us. and like thats a good normal thing but that also means that so is everyone else. no one is paying as much attention to me and what im doing as I am, because theyre paying attention to themselves.

so I remind myself of that and remind myself that most people have a lot going on that has nothing to do with me and so their bad mood or their quietness or their weird vibe isnt them hating and rejecting me, it just means theyre upset and theres a millions reasons why that could be that are more important to them than some little thing i did.

next up is that whatever the most mundane and casual explination that exists is, is probably the truth. and even if i truly think it isnt, i act as if it is until someone directly tells me otherwise. is someone not talking to me today or hasnt replied in hours? theyre probably really busy at work or eating or showering or maybe their phone is dead, and it helps me to ask myself “well when are some times ive taken 2 hours to respond and why was that” and if im being actually honest with myself i will find times when i have behaved the same but wasnt mad at someone or rejecting them. so i always force myself to believe the mundane solution, which helps me not act on any of my feelings.

because even if i really cant believe it in the moment, i can act like i do. so say someone hasnt talked to me and i feel like theyre rejecting me, i tell myself its just because theyre busy and not because theyre mad and force myself to act accodingly. i message them a normal amount and i dont mention my feelings or suspicions and then eventually they always talk to me again like normal and then i can be like “see, eveyrthing was fine and we were just being crazy. glad i didnt do anything about it”

only act on direct information, never assumptions. i act like nothing is wrong until someone directly tells me it is, because i dont live in their head and i cant read their thoughts. i dont truly know how they’re thinking and feeling until they tell me. (and for all u other aspd and npd assholes out there NO U DONT. genuinly and honestly. people are always capable of surprising us and even when we think we have them nailed and know exactly what their thinking, even if were right, u cannot just assume someones thoughts and take it as fact. its disordered and unhealthy and u need to stop doing it if u want better relationships with others) and if they haven’t directly told me something is wrong, then they haven’t communicated properly and that is on them. i dont read into vagueposts or status updates or tweets or level of activity or anything. i notice all of it because my brain is crazy but i force myself to ignore everything except the direct words someone says to me.

is their discord status something super upset that i think vaguely relates to me? that means nothing what was the last thing they said to me? oh that they love me and then we had a totally normal interaction. thats whats the truth, and if they were lying and they actually are mad at me, then thats on them for literally communicating the exact opposite of their feelings.

and lastly, if its people who ur close with, u can also ask for reassurance or validation in a way that doesnt accuse them of doing anything wrong. i will often go to my wife and instead of being like “are u mad at me?” or something i’ll say “im feeling really fragile today can u help reassure me that u love me and that im good?” or “I know u love me but can u tell me again i need to hear it extra today” or if its a friend sometimes i’ll say “hey im feeling kind of insecure and anixious today, when u get a chance could u reassure me that we’re still friends?” or literally just coming in the chat like “hello friends i require validation today” and then people will repsond with emojis and “god mood” and i will feel better

these are good ways to ask for support because they dont put any blame or onus on the other person, its about u and ur feelings, and usually if its people who care about u they’ll have no problem doing that. my friends and i tell eachother very often that we love and care about and genuinly like one another because reassurance and validation is Good and it should be a normal part of ur relationships. (no one insert a screenshot of that time ryo said he was feeling paranoid we hated him so i instantly sent him screenshots of my dms about my crush on him i will skin u)

but yea. those are the main things i do and tell myself and sorry this got so long but i dont know how to explain things like this without a million words lol i hope that made sense and that some of it was helpfull for u

[winunk]

Under A Peach Tree | iv | Akaashi Keiji x fem!OC

Chapter Four: Can I Call You Tonight?

Pairing: Akaashi Keiji x fem!OC

Summary: Akaashi isn’t sure why but he wants to spend more time with Sasaki. He’s struggling to figure out his feelings and doesn’t want to push Sasaki’s boundaries.

Genre: romance, angst, humor if you squint and think I'm funny

Warnings: cursing, incompetent author who literally does not know how to update regularly, cringe anxious teens, broken caps lock key

Word Count: 1.8k

Check out the series playlist here!

I fucked up.

I watched her walk away from me.

I fucked up.

The train was shaking me, but I couldn’t feel it.

I fucked up.

I hung my bag on a hook next to my desk.

Why couldn’t you just tell her that you wanted her around?

I dried my hair with my towel, staring back at the boy in the mirror.

Why do you even want her around?

I sunk into my bed, wrapping myself in the covers.

Tomorrow came too soon. Before I knew what was happening, I was unlocking the club room and getting all the equipment ready in the gym.

Focus, Keiji. You’ve got to get this team to the Spring Tournament again.

I began warming up as the rest of the team trickled in. I set the volleyball off the wall, and it came back perfectly to my hands.

This isn’t enough.

I started going faster, running back and forth, bouncing the ball of the wall from different angles.

Just hit that same spot.

I kept going, sweat dripping down the side of my face. The cold air of the morning pricked my skin. 

Just--

I slipped. My shoes screeched against the gym floor, stopping my feet as my body flung too far to the left. I landed on the hard ground, a sharp pain in my ankle.

I fucked up.

“Akaashi-san,” Onaga called out, rushing to my side. “Are you alright?”

I rolled over onto my back, sprawling out on the floor. “I’m sure I’ll be okay,” I reassured him.

I’m definitely not okay.

I accepted his help up, and my knees almost automatically buckled. Pain flared up in my ankle.

Well, shit.

“Yeah, you’re going home.”

Onaga called Yuka and Coach Yamiji over to help me to my feet. He explained the situation to them, and Coach gave me a pointed look before telling Yuka to wrap my ankle and lock me out of the gym.

“You’re not going to actually lock me out of the gym, are you?” I asked Yuka.

She slid the door shut with a slam.

So much for being her favorite senpai.

I started on my way home.

Where did I go wrong?

I grabbed a bag of ice on my way to my room.

I’ve never been kicked out of practice like that before.

I set the ice bag against the part of my foot that hurt the most and sat down at my desk. I started to do some work written on my to-do list, but I kept glancing at my phone. I wasn’t sure why, but I kept checking to see if Sasaki had messaged me.

Yu-chan must have told her about my injury. She had to have given Sasaki my number for managerial reasons.

I picked up my phone and started looking through my social media apps for any missed notifications.

Why do I want her to message me so badly?

I opened the video calling app on my phone and called the first person on my recents list. Really, he was the only person on my recents list.

Maybe I just want attention right now.

“AGAASHE!” Bokuto’s hair filled up most of the screen. His eyebrows filled the rest. “How are you? You never call this early in the day.”

Do I want his advice or do I just want to catch up with him like normal?

“I finished my homework early, so I thought I would call you, Bokuto-san,” I replied, rubbing the nape of my neck. “How have you been?”

“I’m doing GREAT!”

I turned down the volume.

“I took Coach’s advice and stopped practicing on our days off!” he bragged. “I’ve been spending so much time just WALKING AROUND! THERE’S SO MANY FOOD STALLS HERE!!! I’LL JUST STOP ON MY WALK AND PICK UP SOMETHING TO EAT AND BE ON MY WAY!!!”

I smiled. “That’s good for you, Bokuto-san,” I said. “You always seemed a little more tense during those week-long training camps. Training nonstop didn’t do you well.”

“BUT YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND, AGAASH!!!” he exclaimed. “THE FOOD HERE IS SO GOOOOD!!!!!!”

“I’m sure it is, Bokuto-san.”

He continued talking about how much he was enjoying Osaka. Bokuto rambled on and on about the food. He had been upset that he wasn’t on the official roster for the team at first, but he was in the pool for the team to pick players from.

“It’s actually a lot nicer than I thought it would be, Akaash!” he shouted. “I’m getting to play a lot of games without feeling the pressure weigh down on me.

“I mean sure, I have to be good enough for them to put me on their team, but everyone here is good. Not that the guys at Fukurodani aren’t good. These guys are just so good. I don’t feel like I’m being pushed into a corner though. They’re pushing for me to be better in a good way.”

I nodded along. He gave me the opportunity for me to talk about what universities I was applying to. As always, he tried to convince me to go to a school with a good volleyball team so i could play.

“Hey, why are you upset?”

I blinked rapidly, his question washing over me like cold water.

How did he know?

“I’m not upset, Bokuto-san,” I responded, trying to slow my breathing.

My heart was beating faster as my mind scrambled for something, anything, to say to shake Bokuto’s interrogation.

When was he able to read me this well?

“How was your game with Nekoma yesterday?” Bokuto asked instead. He was narrowing down on everything that could have gone wrong in the last 24 hours.

I nodded my head, looking at the stack of books on my desk. “It went well,” I said. “We lost, but only barely. They have a pretty solid team while we’re still trying to get the first-years working in sync.”

Bokuto scratched his head. “Didn’t you say there was a really good first-year hitter?”

“Mamoru-kun.”

“Mamoru-kun! How is he doing?” Bokuto asked, light flashing in his eyes. “Is he giving you as much trouble as I gave you?”

I chuckled and shook my head. “Bokuto-san, you weren’t as troublesome as you thought you were,” I reassured him. “But, uh, Mamoru-kun is shaping up very well. Anahori-kun actually got to play quite a bit in the last set of the game as well.”

His eyes narrowed and a wide grin graced his face.

Ah, so he’s caught on.

“I KNEW THERE WAS SOMETHING WRONG!” he shouted. “What’s got you so wound up?”

“You seem awfully happy that I’m upset, Bokuto-san.”

“AGAASHEE!!!”

I sighed. “So there’s this,” I hesitated, “person that I’ve gotten close with. I asked them to help Yuka-chan with her manager duties--”

“Haha! You said duties!”

“--but yesterday they quit out of nowhere,” I finished, ignoring Bokuto’s comment. “I don’t know if it was something that I did wrong, or if the team was actually stressing them out.”

My mind flashed back to Onaga’s arm around Sasaki’s shoulders. I felt my blood boil thinking about how uncomfortable she looked.

Bokuto scratched his chin. “What does this have to do with you losing to Nekoma?” he asked. Didn’t you guys just play them last weekend at the training camp?”

“I think I just got nervous with them watching,” I admitted, not realizing that it was the truth until I said it. “It’s the first game that they’ve watched, and I really wanted to impress them.”

“Oh?”

I sighed. The storm that had been brewing in my mind for the past couple days was finally settling down into a soft drizzle.

“They’ve been really distant from me, but I can see the intelligence behind their eyes. I want to spend hours talking to them about literature and school. I want to ask them a million questions about how they think the universe works.”

Bokuto laughed heartily at me.

“Why are you calling me then?”

“Wha--”

“Bye Akaashi!” he shouted. “I think you know what to do!!!”

He hung up on me. I couldn’t believe he just hung up on me. My own face looked back at me in shock.

Bokuto’s voice echoed through my room, through my mind. The phrase repeated itself over and over again.

I know what to do.

I messaged Yuka-chan.

“Took you long enough,” she sent back before sending me what I asked for.

I didn’t ask her what she meant by that.

How did Yuka-chan and Bokuto-san catch onto my feelings before I did? I’m still not even sure just how I feel.

“Hi, it’s Akaashi Keiji,” I typed out.

The blinking cursor mocked me. My thumb rapidly deleted the message and tapped out a new one.

“Hey, it’s Akaashi.”

I sent the message, my stomach uneasy with nerves.

“Can I call you tonight?”

The bubble indicating that Sasaki was typing popped up almost immediately. I felt like I was going to throw up.

Throwing my phone on my desk, I wrung my hands.

My phone buzzed, and I scrambled to pick it up. I couldn’t have her thinking I left her on read.

“I’m about to shower, but you can call me in an hour.”

I sighed in relief.

She doesn’t think I’m weird.

My phone vibrated again. “Are you alright? Did you need something?” she asked.

“I’ll call you at 19:30,” I texted back.

I’ll just explain to her what I need when i call her. Perfect. I get to talk to her.

Why do I want to talk to her?

I spent most of the next hour killing time. I cleaned my room, though it didn’t need much cleaning. I walked to the kitchen and stared at the contents of my fridge. I sat on my bed, staring at my closet in contemplation before deciding that I didn’t need to change my shirt.

By 19:28 I was lying on the ground, staring at the clock on my phone.

Should I call her exactly at 19:30? What if she thinks that’s creepy? Should I call her a little bit sooner? What if she’s busy and misses the call? Should I call her a little bit later? What if she thinks I forgot to call?

I groaned in frustration, slamming my thumb down on the screen. I quickly put my phone on speaker and laid it down next to my head.

With each ring, the pounding in my chest felt louder. My stomach felt like it was trying to dig its way into the ground.

Why is this so nerve-wracking?

“Hello?” a voice called out from the speaker on my phone. “Akaashi-san?”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Hi, Sasaki-chan,” I replied.

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Taglist: [Open]

a/n: Most of this playlist/fic will be Dayglow songs. I love his music so much and they just vibe.

fun facts:

**I 100% made up Bokuto’s situation (I don’t know how pro sports works in Japan)

**Bokuto is Akaashi’s BEST FRIEND!!! just because he’s loud doesn’t mean he isn’t emotionally intelligent and knows what Akaashi needs!!!!

[taliel-strykidz]

Ending!

It’s finally here, I’m sorry for the long ass wait :( It’s not great but here you guys go!

Huannie couldn’t understand why it felt like there was something over her eyes making it difficult to open them, but she fought the urge to succumb back to the darkness and wrench them open, she felt like she hadn’t done that in a while.  Her whole body ached upon trying to move and everything from physically and mentally felt foggy. 

Feeling something wet on her cheek she brought her hand up to wipe it only to feel something tug in her arm, looking down she saw something plastic feeding into her veign, although everything was foggy she was well aware that the distinct shape of the the plastic thing on her arm was an IV. 

She glances upward, her mouth pursed but slightly open and loose. Her eyes are fixed as if she’s looking at something a yard away, but in reality she was staring at the ECG machiene mimicking her distressed state. Finally she launched herself up into a sitting position and observed where she was. She was in the hospital room the managers would usually request when an Idol was needing medical attention, but it looked different. There were piles of letters stacked on the armchair, boxes of plushies scattered on the desk and alot of overnight duffle bags shoved into the corner.

“Hello?” She called out weakly, a few minutes pass and no one had answered. Throwing the dozen blankets off the bed in agitated disorientation she rubbed her eyes furiously. “Mom? Taeyong?” She called again, her voice cracking like she hadn’t used it her whole life. 

There were scrambling footsteps outside of the door in the hall sprinting over to her door, speaking of the door it almost got ripped off its hinges as the nurse came inside to assess who was talking. This person Huannie had never seen before in her life. Although the brown haired nurse in front of her look unfamilliar there was a slight nagging in the back of her brain that she knew this woman. Her chocolate brown hair was in a beautiful messy bun; her doe brown eyes looked absolutely bewildered. 

“Annyeonghaseyo... Um could you please tell me where my family is?” Huannie asked matching the womans terrifyed eyes, the woman still stares at the Idol with wide eyes, her mouth opening and closing, not being able to find the words to properly explain to the woman sitting in the bed what situation she was actually in. 

“They- They should be due to arrive like usual- They’ll be here soon.” She managed to get out, the nurse stood at the door trying to remember what her senior told her about coma patients that just woke up. The nurse bows to take her leave but Huannie tried to get out of the bed to stop her/ 

“Who are you?” Huannie burst out with brimming eyes, the nurse turned to look at her with a tembling lip but only grabs her hand. 

“They’ll be here soon, okay.” 

Huannie couldn’t believe what was going on, she didn’t think she wanted to anyway. The last thing she remembered was telling Heechul to tie the belt around his leg, but it seemed alot longer had passed with such a reaction from the nurse.  She forced her knees up, hugging them to her chest. Her hand working back and forth over what seemed like healed scars on her legs, all while feeling the irregular box like shape in her chest area. If she didn’t get some answers soon she had a feeling she would vomit, already she could feel the bile in her throat. 

She saw the door opening slowly, revealing Park Jinyoung, standing at the door looking like he would vomit himself. Huannie assumed he was the one who was nearby considering he was alone, soon a worn out Na Jaemin entered behind him. 

“Jagi? What’s going on- Why are you crying?” She asked worriedly watching as his knee buckled ever so slightly hearing her voice after four months of only hearing his own breathing. “Oppa?” Her voice cracked under the immense confusion circling around in her head, a scared tear slipping out of her eye. 

“Jaeminnie? Tell me, what’s going on?” She asked the younger boy hoping that he would be of help, the teenager only stared at her with his beautiful eyes watering, but he at least had a relieved smile. 

“You’re scaring me,” She voiced, only she wasn’t sure who it was directed at whether it was at the two standing in the room or at herself who couldn’t come up to an answer to any of her own questions. 

It felt like a lifetime of sorrowful tears before one of them spoke. 

“You’re awake.” Jinyoung says, slowly walking over to the armchair next ti her with Jaemin following quietly. 

“Yeah.. I’m awake?”

“Angel, you’ve been- you were- you were in a coma.” He mumbled quietly, staring down at the hand he’d grabbed instinctively as he sat down. She stared back at him in pure loss for words as he stared back at her with an expressionless face. 

Her heart leaped as she took in the faces of the boys, first trying to figure out if this was some kind of joke, but judging by their shaking hands and non stop tears her own hands seemed to trembled as she tried to remember what happened after the crash. “For how long? Like a week?” She asked desperately trying to get at least one answer out of the million that were drowning in her mind. 

The two looked at eachother as if they didn’t know if they should tell her, for their own sake because they didn’t want have to talk about the events of what’s happened throughout the time she was lay in pain. But Jaemin spoke anyway. 

“It’s been four and a half months Noona.” The teen whispered painfully as he grabbed her hand to steady his racing heart. 

Huannie’s already dry mouth felt as if it had been sucked of any remaining water and threatened her tongue to smash into tiny little pieces. She shook her head in denial as she furiously wiped the tears rolling down her cheeks with her palm. 

“This is a joke.” She snipped and laughed without any ounce of amusement. “It not a funny one, but some twisted joke right?” Anguish could be seen on her face as she desperately pleaded with Jinyoung’s eyes to tell her it was all a joke or a dream, but Jinyoung only shook his head. 

“No, Angel it’s not a joke.” He replied placing his his head in his hand to rub away his tears. 

“No, it’s not possible. It can’t be. I was with Heechul yesterday, singing in the car and then-”

Huannie cried as if her brain was being shredded from the inside out, emotional and physical pain flowed out of her every pore. From her mouth came a cry so raw that even the eyes of the people walking past the hospital room were suddenly wet with tears. She grabbed onto the two boys hands so that her violent shaking wouldn’t make her fall off the bed and from her eyes came a thicker flow of tears than she had cried for her own mother two years ago. We don’t really think about death, but when you find out you were close to it it unerves you. 

Upon seeing her right in front of him, brick by brick, Jinyoung’s walls came tumbling down. As she clutched onto his hand the tears in his eyes turned into a hurricane. He just broke down as the nurse guided a soft smiling Jaemin out of the room. When they cried there was a rawness to it, like the pain of four months ago was still an open wound. They both clasped onto eachothers hands for support, anything that would tell eachother that the other was there, and then their bodies would shake. Jinyoungs sobs were stifled at first as he first panned to comfort the woman, but realising that she was there crying with him the wave of emotions hit and he broke down entirely. 

“Jinyoungie?” She finally spoke. “Who was playing the piano? The one that Jonghyun was singing to?” She asked desperately looking into his eyes. 

“Chenle played the piano last month, but no one was sing-” 

“Jonghyun sang it in the meadow, he sang it to me.” She corrected him. 

“Angel are you sure it wasn’t a dream?” Jinyoung replied. Huannie refused to believe it, she saw he late bestfriend playing the piano in the meadow she was sure of it. 

After a minute of Jinyoung realising eaxactly what she was meaning he sat softly on the bed next to her and brough the crying woman into his embrace. 

“Has it really been four months?” 

He gave her a weak smile and squeezed her closer to his chest. 

“Longest four months of our life Angel.” 

[theres-no-protocol-for-this]

Magical Artifact

A Murderbot fanfic set in an alternate universe where a guardian is making a concerted effort not get its humans killed. Part IV. 

Note: FlipSpring has been absolutely amazing at beta reading this story (and I can’t thank them enough for it)! So, yeah, now with more clarity because of this wonderful person. :)

This is also available on AO3 for those who prefer reading in order and not hunting around on Tumblr. 

The enormous ballroom had been decorated by people with more money than common sense. Long refreshment tables stood against one wall, overflowing with food I couldn’t identify. Humans mingled in the middle of the wide-open space, surrounded by haphazardly placed tables and chairs. An auctioneer and two of her employees milled around on the stage at the front of the room.

Dr. Mensah and the rest of the investigative team sat at a table toward the back. I lay under it where other humans couldn't readily step on me. They had smuggled me in as Baradwahj's support animal, and I preferred that to dressing up and coming to this "party" as a human.

I wasn't the weirdest creature in the room—one of the guests had a miniature pony—but with any luck, I was the only one with access to dark magical talents. I didn't belong here any more than I had at the restaurant, but at least this qualified as work.

A tall woman in a shimmering dress stepped up to the podium and began introducing the auction. All of the items up for auction tonight came from the collection of some famous, eclectic writer who was now dead. Honestly, I didn't care whose stuff this was or why it was being sold. 

I was more concerned that everyone's perfume made the room smell like a sick interpretation of a meadow. My nose hurt just thinking about it.

Ratthi tried to educate me on how auctions worked—I'd never been to one before. At first, the items on display looked mundane. They sold for a lot of money (in my limited understanding), though, so maybe this writer was amazing or something.

Then, the hosts brought out a tall and worn wooden chair, and instantly the temperature in the room dropped by a couple of degrees. Overhead lights flickered briefly as if they had trouble staying on.

I nuzzled Mensah's foot under the table. 

"I know," she whispered back, shivering.

"Is that the thing?" Arada wanted to know.

"Most likely," Ratthi whispered back, leaning toward Arada to explain. "The Guardian thinks so, too."

I could see the seething dark magic wrapped around the chair pretty clearly, so it was more than just an educated guess. Other than the evil aura, it didn't look all that special otherwise. According to the stuttering auctioneer, the writer had done his best work while sitting on this monstrosity. I could guess why.

Pin-Lee pulled out a tablet and was scrolling through a document. "Go ahead and bid on it, and we'll see if we can do this without causing a scene."

My gut said there was absolutely no way that thing was going to let my humans anywhere near itself. It was a creature of the dark, and the investigators were brimming full of light. As soon as its spreading magical tendrils found us, it would know exactly who and what it was dealing with. 

But whatever. Maybe high society evil had different standards. 

"Remember, the department wants this thing alive," Pin-Lee reminded us.

The bidding began, and I sat up to pay attention. The numbers sounded outrageous—I couldn't understand why anyone would spend money on a chair when there were perfectly good tree stumps outside. Sure, there was a fae creature attached to the artifact (probably the kind that dealt in soul bargains and supported the fine arts), but still... It was a chair.

Suddenly, the magic surrounding the wooden seating implement expanded ten-fold. The lights in the ballroom flickered a few times and then surrendered and went out completely. 

"What the hell," someone muttered at one of the other tables.

I got up and crawled out from under our table because this is usually when shit hits the fan. 

The chair wobbled dramatically—I swear, half the monsters I've encountered have a flair for drama—and then shot up into the air. For a moment, it hung there, building up suspense, and then shattered into a million fucking splinters. Wood rained down on the participants, even though most of them couldn't see much of anything in the dark.

The fae let out a giggle as the humans in the front row  of tables screamed as wooden shards penetrated their skins. 

Mensah let out a yelp, and all of my clients ducked. That was the safe and sane reaction to a suddenly unpredictable situation. It's not what happens in the best adventure novels, but my clients aren't stalwart adventurers. They're a group of paranormal investigators whose magical skills are mostly theoretical. They're not crime fighters; they don't go places to do battle with the forces of evil. 

I changed forms so I could help them get away. "You need to leave," I whispered, "immediately. The door is a couple hundred feet behind you."

"What about—" Ratthi's sentiment was lost in another round of screaming as the fae decided to set part of the stage on fire.

"I got this. You need to get to safety."

"It's you we're worried about," Arada whisper-yelled at me.

I actually paused for a moment because that made no sense. This is my job. This is literally why you brought me here. I didn't say that, though. Instead, I said, "That thing is a high-ranking member of the fae court. It's not safe here."

I was hoping the humans would just listen to me, but I didn't have time to keep arguing. The longer the fae rampaged around here, the more damage it would do. 

I could smell the fucker even as it materialized. It smelled like the forest, actually, like places where I'd lived before, like home.

Right then, it was sitting at a table.

It had tossed a human out of a chair, sat down in the human's place, and was nibbling on appetizers. It saw me and got up, silks floating lazily around it in ribbons.

The creature was about five feet tall, with pointy ears and butterfly wings. And then it opened its mouth and revealed hideously sharp, pointed teeth. This fae looked like it had stepped out of a fairy tale and into my nightmares. 

"You look lost, little wolf," it taunted.

Talking to a member of the high-court fae is just asking for trouble. So, I turned into a wolf and stared at the asshole while around me, humans scrambled to get out of the way. The fae dispelled the magic that made it hard to see for normal humans. As far as it was concerned, no one posed much of a danger to it—it was a master of wild magic and, thus, the scariest thing in the room. 

"You wanna play, puppy?" it laughed.

I growled at it. 

"Looks like you do." It gazed at me with pitiless eyes. "I wonder where your master is, little pup."

I had high hopes that my humans wouldn't reveal themselves, but there was Ratthi with, "It's not a puppy. It's a person."

Fuck me.

The fairy chuckled. “There they are."

I did the thing I usually do when faced with a monster. I got a running start, leaped across a table, and lunged at the fae noble.

[sparklyandchic]

🦋 MINI MIND MAKEOVER 🦋

okay i started the idea for this mini little mind makeover when i broke up with my boyfriend in like january. instead of being sad or angry, i wanted to be grateful for this time and take it as an opportunity to make life better for myself. then quarantine happened, so some of these are related to things i’ve learned since that started. either way, these aren’t all concrete things to do for your mind; some of them are just ways of thinking or pep talks. but if you can find one little piece of information or thought that makes you a little bit happier for a moment, that’s all i can hope for!

5-htp: okay first off- please ALWAYS consult your psychiatrist or medical professional before taking a supplement! taking 5-htp with, for example, serotonin-increasing medications can lead to a fatal illness called serotonin syndrome. personally, i started taking it because i had been on 10 mg prozac for a few months. it definitely dulled a lot of my anxiety and had a lot of positive aspects to it, but it dulled them almost too much to the point where i felt apathetic and detached from myself and the situations i was in. i was in a very unhealthy relationship and felt like i needed my mental clarity and “overthinking” processes back in order to identify what i was feeling and how to deal with it. i felt a lot more “sensitive” after coming off it, which was actually really welcome for me at first, but then it sort of dropped off into withdrawals. i was having constant panic attacks and crying very often. after a while, i was debating going back on prozac, but remembered i had taken 5-htp before. 5-htp is an amino acid that is a direct precursor to serotonin being produced in the brain. when u eat turkey, tryptophan is converted into 5-htp which leads to your brain producing serotonin, thus why you feel calm and happy afterwards. after taking 5-htp for just a few days, ranging between 200-300 mg per day (again, do your research, ask your doctor, and start small) i stopped crying constantly and really felt this sense of calmness and wellbeing but without the detachment and apathy i felt with prozac. i could still think clearly but didn’t feel overly sensitive to every emotion which arose. personally, it is really a lifesaver and really does make a noticeable difference.

cognitive behavioral therapy: ive tried therapy a million times. well okay, like 5 or 6 different therapists. at its worst, therapists told me i needed to use my sexual power as a woman in order to get what i wanted from men, told me i’m bad at socializing and should do group therapy, said my mom shouldn’t have encouraged me to “be myself” when i was younger because it made me less likeable than if i had conformed to normal societal standards of dressing. i had gone to “therapists” who claimed to be trained in CBT, but when i told them about my experiences with dissociation, the only feedback i got was to “take more baths.” while going through a few unpleasant experiences in my personal life, i decided i should try CBT once more, but like the real kind. i found an ivy-league educated licensed psychologist (NOT a “licensed clinical social worker” who doesn’t even have a psychology degree!!) who SPECIALIZED specifically in cognitive behavioral therapy. just after the first session, i was so elated with my experience. as opposed to just telling me that i needed to be more normal or more kind or a better person, she tried to identify WHAT was making me feel that way about myself in the first place. she pointed out the positive things i do and reassured me i was kind, good, and deserving of good things. she pointed out many aspects of my situation that would have taken me days or weeks to come to on my own. i’ve realized my hubris isn’t that i’m not socially acceptable or not perfect enough, but its just that i tend to THINK that i am these things despite having no evidence of it. so, over time with therapy, my positive self image about who i am as a person has grown and strengthened and i dont just randomly feel like a bad human being anymore lol. moral of the story, if you wanna do therapy but it keeps sucking, dont give up. go to a legit psychologist, find someone who specializes in the type of therapy you’re seeking, and also be vocal during your sessions. stand up to your psychologist when they continually push a narrative onto you, and explain why you don’t agree with it. sometimes it’s their job to try different narratives to see what fits, and if you just passively let them say what they want to, you’ll never find the truth of your experience! it’s a communal effort! therapy isn’t usually a magic cure-all where one session fixes everything that goes awry in your brain. but if you find someone who knows what they’re doing they can in fact really help your thought processes become less twisted up and more clear and healthy.

meditation and mindfulness: a few weeks ago i felt anxious and overly driven to get things done to the point where i spiraled into a space of guilt or a panic attack over not getting enough things done. meditation can be so so helpful here. it’s better to spend an hour sitting and doing nothing, but doing it peacefully and then calmly moving on to doing something else, than to spend 5 hours stressing yourself over every single thing you need to get done and how much time you’re wasting. the things that need to get done will get done. another thing that i’ve realized and say to myself a lot is: “focus not on doing all things perfectly, but on doing the small things well.” by this i mean, stop thinking about the 20 things you need to get done and how it all needs to be perfect, but instead take your time with the task that presents itself as most beneficial right now and focus on enjoying it and giving your whole self to the process. for example, stop thinking about how you need to clean your room, your closet, donate clothes, take a shower, take out the trash, read, workout, etc. think to yourself; “which task would bring me the most joy right now?” if the answer is taking a shower, then take that damn shower. bring your speaker into the bathroom, scrub every inch of your scalp with shampoo, scrub your feet and behind your ears and your neck with body wash, brush the conditioner through your hair fully. you may end your shower with 19 other things to do, but god damn if you can’t enjoy a single one of them and be present for it, what’s the fucking point! go light a candle and bask in its glow, go make your bed and huddle up in your neatly arranged covers, go take a long bath or a thorough shower, and be proud of and content with that today. 

relationships, with others and yourself: okay, if you missed the memo, my ex-boyfriend sucked. like genuinely was a bad person. he was a drug dealer, so that’s red flag number 1 (which i ignored of course), he hadn’t graduated high school (he was 18, i was 20, he was supposed to graduate the last semester but refused to do the work and ignored me and his mother when encouraged to do it, which is uhh definitely red flag number 2 which i also ignored), he habitually did not show up for dates on time or lied about what he was going to do or what he did (literally everything he did was a red flag and i rlly ignored all of it). the worst part was how he responded when i worked up the courage to speak to him about it. if we had agreed upon a time for our date but he showed up literally 8 hours late, he would blame it on me because i “could have called” him, or that i was “demanding too much of” him, or that i “should have said something earlier so now [i was] just dragging it out because it already happened.” basically, whatever narrative he pushed at me, i eventually gave into. i’ve dealt with gaslighting in a relationship before and a part of me knew what was happening to me, but a part of me also kept having hope for him, kept empathizing with him, kept wanting to believe in him. after a bit too much time, i finally realized you have to trust yourself, empathize with yourself, and believing in yourself over anyone else. at first i felt bad for him not being able to graduate because i had my own struggles with high school and getting work done. i thought he may have issues but he deserves someone to be there for him because i wanted someone to be there for me. despite the pain and stress he was causing me, i sat around crying over him because i cared about him and tend to over-empathize with people close to me, whether they deserve it or not. my therapist told me something that at first i did not understand, but over time came to grasp in its entirety: “some people do not deserve your love or kindness.” after our first session, my homework was to “consider when you are being kind and when you are being taken advantage of.” this made me realize that what feels like your instinctual nature to be nice to others, can in fact be a self-sabotaging unfair action, depending on the other person’s response. i might be dishing out a lot right now, but bear with me. think of it this way: you regard an action as a “kind action”. you might think “kind actions” include: forgiving someone for large mistakes, putting someone’s needs over yours, sparing them some change when they ask for it, listening to the problems they are dealing with every day. BUT when their actions include not forgiving you for minor mistakes, not giving a sh*t about your needs or considering them, not caring how much money they take from you and how much money you need to have around, or habitually glossing over your problems because it doesn’t benefit them to care, THEN those actions you performed are NOT “KIND ACTIONS” anymore. the act of continuing to give them leeway is now the act of being taken advantage of. the act of giving them money is now the act of being taken advantage of. the act of buying into their story at the expense of your sanity, is now the act of being taken advantage. basically, all i’m saying is START PUTTING YOURSELF FIRST AND TRUSTING YOURSELF WHEN YOU FEEL SOMEONE DOESN’T HAVE YOUR BEST INTERESTS IN MIND. 

ending thoughts: i know quarantine is difficult right now. the desire to grow contrasted with the inability to move. maybe try and follow that old 2008~ quote; “bloom where you are planted”. you might not be able to reach the goals you thought you would during this time. you might not be able to run a marathon or make a bunch of new friends or wake up at 6 AM to workout or redo your bedroom or get a rhinoplasty or join a gym or get an internship. working towards productivity might be unrealistic right now. but you can work everyday towards becoming the woman you want to be, mentally. you can work on learning to be content, learning to make the best with what you have, learning to appreciate the little things, learning to slow down. these are all qualities that i for one want to have just as much as i want to be attractive or successful. if you can’t enjoy success, what’s the fucking point! life is on pause right now, take this moment as a gift and consider your internal world and what parts of your mind need a makeover. there are horrible things happening in the world right now, do what you can to help, but if you’re safe and healthy then be grateful for the things you can learn from this difficult time. take it slow, but keep moving forward! 

[seriouslyblacklikemysoul]

An Ephemeral Eternity in Seven Parts - Steve Rogers x Reader.

MASTERLIST Warnings: My English, Gifs aren’t mine. Word Count~3.4k Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V

PART VI

A soft red color was painting the deep blue sky as the sun run its course and went back to sleep, an omen for the upcoming day. The air was chilly and clouds were gathering, threatening the very delicate, almost feeble peace that had been bestowed upon them. Being constantly on the move was not easy, especially since they were always followed. Not a single moment was private, yet somehow they managed to escape, not for long but those stolen minutes or hours were exactly what kept them sane. Well, sane enough.  "Did you manage to get any sleep?" Natasha asked her, not looking better herself as she walked into her room. She rolled her eyes to the now blond woman and simply raised an eyebrow. "Did you?" she asked back, receiving the exact same reaction. Natasha sat down, next to her, handing her a cup of coffee, which was very much appreciated. Her life had change; she would try to sleep at some point during the day and she would run and hide all night long or better yet trying to stay away from the people looking for her. Well, all of them, since they were criminals as people have told them, but she had an extra target on her back - and maybe even more dangerous than all the government's satellites. Not only Tony wanted her alive and found but she felt the threat vibrating through her veins. She knew that Tony didn't want his name ruined and/or associated with a criminal and that was why she would never let him find her - it wasn't just so they could talk, no, his reasons were always a bit egocentric. At least, so she thought. "Once Sam and Steve are back, we have to be on our way" Natasha told her, snapping her out of her mind.  "If we find Wanda and Vision, that is" she commented as she downed her coffee in hopes of some kind of an energy kick. The blond woman raised an eyebrow, disapproving the recklessness in that relationship. Vision had to report their situation but instead he went incognito for the last couple of days.  "Speaking of... you and Steve seem distant lately. What happened?" she wanted to know. That was the issue though. Nobody knew... at some point, their talks stopped happening so often, their time together became shorter, their kisses almost disappeared, leaving her to question what had happened. She shrugged as if it didn't bother her. Natasha knew better but didn't push it. "Alright, I'm just saying. Don't give up just yet" Nat advised her, while she packed the few things left out. She got up to help but not a moment later, a furious Sam and a slightly aggravated Steve walking in on them. "They are in trouble" Steve announced, already getting ready to fight. "Because they didn't do as told" Sam sassed but no one could blame them. They all prepared for the worst. And everyone already knew their places. She had chose not to be active because she had made a realization that wasn't so pleasing. Her powers drew from her - so every time she used her powers, came with a cost. She was the stand-by pilot of the Quinjet, observing and if needed intervening while the other three were handling the fists. She was mostly using her powers to hide them from the radars and it took a toll on her. Not long after that, they were all in the Jet, heading to Wanda and Vision. No one talked, no one looked each other. She felt estranged. "We're here" she informed shortly after. Steve simply nodded and she grew even more angry and worried. "We'll be right up" Natasha soothed, as she opened the doors of the Jet. Once she was alone again, she let the anger go but her mind was travelling to dark places. It wasn't anger, it was desperation and agony. A painful scream was about to escape her lips when they came back with the two lovers.  "I thought we had a deal. Stay close, check in. Don't take any chances" Natasha reprimanded Wanda, while Steve glanced over to her, leaving her with all the more questions.  "I am sorry. We just wanted time" Wanda said with tears in her eyes.  "Sam, you're on. I am going to try to help Vis, but I can't promise you anything" she finally came to her senses, leaving Sam to pilot them away, as she sat next to Wanda. "Be careful" Steve told her, almost too airy. She didn't turn when she replied that she wasn't gonna hurt Vision. He stopped in front of her, and before answering to Sam, he answered to her. "I was talking about you". That made her head swing. He tore his eyes from hers to give directions to Sam. Natasha gave a small smile, a sad one, because she knew how hard it was to love in the midst of a war.  "Where to, Cap?" he asked again. He took a deep breath. "Home". What was that? She couldn't remember. Focusing on Vision, her eyes turned lilac again - soon after her lessons from Strange, she was able to channel her power through every single cell of her body, thus affecting them, both in a good and in a bad way. She had never exactly understood what was triggering her powers to resurface whenever she needed them. But in that moment she knew exactly how to help him and so she did. She didn't notice anything other than the ordinary but everyone else did. The lights went off inside the Jet, a small purple lightning appeared in the sky and her powers were suddenly all over Vision like a cocoon. Moments later, everything was back to normal and Vision had regained his form but he wasn't in his original shape, which made her furrow her eyebrows, puzzled at her capabilities.  "Don't wear yourself out; I am better and we are arriving. Thank you" Vision reasoned with her thoughts. She raised an eyebrow - she didn't like it when he did that, but she knew he was right. Steve hadn't taken his eyes off of her the whole time. He was concerned about her. He was terrified when she went full on purple but not for his sake. He was worried about the side-effects. He was also a tad proud about her; and just a bit guilty about his behavior towards her. He had asked her to run with them, asked to be a fugitive, to stand against Tony again and she had devoted herself and her powers towards that mission - and he was being a jerk. And she hadn't given up on him still. He owed her more than an apology. "Maybe stand behind us, so no matter what Tony won't find out that you're here" Natasha offered her and she was thankful for her quick thinking. Her veins were purple, Steve noticed. They locked eyes. Trouble was on its way. 

"So... So we gotta assume they're coming back, right?" Natasha stated the obvious. Everyone was nervous, some of them terrified even.

"And they can clearly find us" Wanda added as her sole focus was on Vision. "We need all hands on deck. Where's Clint?" Bruce added, being the first to know the enemy. "After the whole Accords situation, he and Scott took a deal. It was too tough on their families, they're on house arrest" Natasha explained to him while they were examining each other. Steve was looking at her, worried. "Okay, look… Thanos has the biggest army in the universe. And he is not gonna stop until he... he gets... Vision's Stone". For a scientist, he wasn't exactly helpful at that moment. She wasn't talking, not sure if she had to say something. But sure enough that if Thanos could get ahold of all the infinity stones, no one could stop him - if she was powerful without all of their powers, he would be death itself. She turned her back on them, thinking about every possibility. "Well then, we have to protect it" Nat had to be optimistic, while in fact knowing extremely well that wasn't the case. "No, we have to destroy it. I've been giving a good deal of thought to this entity in my head, about its nature. But also, its composition. I think if it were exposed to a sufficiently powerful energy source, something, very similar to its own signature, perhaps… its molecular integrity could fail" Vision addressed Wanda as he neared her. She was clearly not having it. "And you, with it. We're not having this conversation". Her head was spinning, thoughts overflowing with images of catastrophe. "Eliminating the stone is the only way to be certain that Thanos can't get it". She wasn't sure about that and it scared her more than anything. "That's too high a price". And she agreed with Wanda. If that was Steve, she would likely be a bit too fierce. "Thanos threatens half the Universe. One life cannot stand in the way of defeating him". It wasn't the time for heroism, she thought. It was already overwhelming her. "But it should, we don't trade lives, Vision" Steve boldly said, making her turn and finally looked at him with all the desperation of the world. "Captain, 70 years ago, you laid down your life to save how many millions of people. Tell me, why is this any different?". It felt too much for her. The last hour it has been about the end of the world and honestly, she felt angry and trapped. Without even realizing it, a jolt of purple energy was sent directly to Vision. She gasped and before she could actually harm somebody, she whispered an apology and run out of the room. If Thanos was coming, she was as good as dead.

The night unfolding in front of her was gloomy, dark and ominous with storm clouds. A starless night, without a single ray of hope to shine through and ease her mind. She had yet to come to terms with her very essence. She had been confident about her powers, herself and so, naturally, the more it hurt once she was proven wrong. Which was slowly making her reluctant to trust anything- even her own gut feelings. Because when she had been so sure of something and it didn't happen the way she thought it would, it felt like she was betrayed by herself. These expectations and the hope that she had given herself- she did that, she gave herself all this hope when she shouldn’t have, and then she got hurt. So subconsciously she won’t let herself have that much hope the next time. That was how getting hurt was slowly destroying her. She got less and less optimistic and hopeful. She felt that deep inside her bones; she would never come completely back.  She was so deep in her head, she didn't even hear him opening and closing the door. She was a skeleton made out of flowers, seeds lodged themselves in her bones, tangled roots spread across her frame, a delicate network of nerves and veins; she was a garden on a cemetery floor, beauty born of compost and worms, watered by rain and shallow tears, sinking into rich earth...hoping to rise again. He softly touched her shoulder making her slightly jump. It was strange for him to watch her so lost in her mind.  "Is Vision okay?" she asked him, seemingly worried but he knew her better than that. She knew he was fine, she just needed one more reason to hate herself. He stood near her, not quite sure what to do. "Of course he is. Are you?" he found the courage to ask her. It was difficult looking at her and knowing she was not alright but not being able to help her. Maybe he was the positive fucking little unicorn and even though the past months had been cruel to all of them and he had grown different, he still wanted to help - mostly her.  "Nope, definitely no" she truthfully told him, as she turned to look at his blue ocean eyes. She took a deep breath, trying to pull herself together. He was about to tell her something about positivity but she didn't want to hear any of it and cut him off. "No, Steve, don't tell me that things will be better, that I will be able to control those freacking powers- the same ones that Thanos wants to obtain. Don't tell me that there is hope, cause I have none. I can't look you directly in the eye and tell that I'll be able to help. I guessing that I will be able to destroy. Don't ask me what. And no, I don't want to hear to whatever advice you have. I am sorry but it's all happening so fast, so many things are going on and I can't even breathe. And you what? On top of everything, I still think about you. Are we just friends if it’s your breath on my neck late at night or if it’s our laced fingers beneath your covers? How tightly do we need to be pressed against each other before you admit that you aren’t doing this for warmth? How many times does your thumb need to brush my lips before we realize that we’ve gone too far?" she let on, giving him absolutely no warnings that she would burst like that. She caught him by surprise and she saw that, so she chuckled sadly and waved her hands to dismiss every words she said. She always did that - demining her own thoughts and problems when she was overwhelming towards another. But he wasn't going to let her. For a reason he did not know, he was growing angry. That was a lie, he knew exactly why. He cared about her way too much to let her ruin herself. "Hey - no, hey, I'm talking to you. Don't you DARE walk away now. You don't get to tell me this just to erase it after a moment" he almost yelled at her the minute she tried to leave. She was taken aback. This was new. She had never seen him mad at her. Not that it scared her but it was different and gained her attention.  "Fuck this! No, it's not gonna be okay. There is a war upon us and it's scary as fuck because we have to go against someone so deprived of any common sense who craves your fucking powers. And your powers scare the hell out of us but you didn't want them- he does. I don't believe you for a second. I know you can master them, so stop being a fucking coward and learn how to, work on that. Control what has been given to you - it doesn't matter if you suffered or not. You have those god-damn powers. And you're stronger than anyone I know. Not because you have them. Because it's who you are. And no. We are not friends. We never were" and with that he grabbed her by her waist and slammed her against his body, lips desperately craving hers. 

"Eyes up. Stay sharp". By the time he informed as such, she was already making her way towards him, only to witness the Mad Titan sent him flying with the same purple jolt of power she possessed without having struck a single punch. T'Challa was grabbed by his throat and punched to the ground while Sam's wings became rubbery and unable to sustain flight. She kneeled down next to Steve to make sure he was still alive - she would probably loose it if he wasn't. When he opened his eyes, she finally breathed again, leaving him with a silent promise. All bloody and bruised, they needed to survive this. She heard Vision and Wanda and her heart broke. The least she could was give them time. "It shouldn't be you, but it is. It's all right. You could never hurt me. I just... feel you" Vision tried to soothe her pain as she extended a trembling hand, beaming her energy at the Mind Stone. She glanced at them, trying to focus all her power into stopping Thanos. She was running towards him when Steve slid under one blow and came up swinging his deployed arm-shields, punching Thanos in the gut and chin. He grabbed the gauntlet, keeping Thanos' fingers un-clenched. Thanos looked very briefly impressed at Steve’s efforts as he screamed before slamming a fist into his head and rendering him insensible. She let out a scream when Wanda looked over her shoulders. Purple jolts and beams of power hit the Mad Titan as she was determent to keep him away from the couple. If that was their goodbye, she was going to give them as much time as she could. Impressed by her ability to make him step back couple of meters, he tried to use his powers but Wanda joined her in a last effort. The two women looked at each other, understanding the pain Wanda felt as she nodded. "It's alright... It's alright. I love you". She struck again and again but her worst fear was coming true; her powers weren't enough. Taking a deep breath, she made a run for it, grabbed him by his massive hand and pushed his other out of her way with her powers, while she tried to get off of him the gauntlet. It took a great amount of power for him to knock her down and almost dead, something he informed her of. "You did better than most". She barely saw what happened, almost too weak to breathe. But when Wanda screamed in pain, she found the strength to pull it together, no matter how she felt and stood up, just when Thor arrived in the scene and the Stormbreaker slammed right into Thanos chest. She looked with eyes wide open when he didn't slow down. Steve was up again, and Bucky came rushing through. Both of them were looking tired, beaten and lost. One last effort before everything went to hell. Thor took hold of the back of Thanos' head, forcing the Stormbreaker deeper into his chest and she blasted that spot with all of her power, making him cry in pain. He looked at her slightly aggravated. "You should have gone for the head!" he yelled as he raised his gauntlet and snapped his fingers. 

"What'd you do? WHAT'D YOU DO?!" Thor was asking angrily. But he used the space stone and left.   "Where'd he go? Thor... where'd he go?" Steve stumbled into the clearing, holding his left side. She was almost too overwhelmed, she couldn't feel. "Steve?" Bucky suddenly stumbled over, and looked at her before he collapsed into ashes, much to Steve's shock; he walked over and touched the ground where Bucky's ashes evaporated disbelievingly. Shock washed over her, her entire body was trembling. "What is this? What the hell is happening?" Rhodes asked mere moments later, as Natasha appeared too, but to her … it felt like an eternity. She was literally vibrating with purple jolts of energy forming in her fingers. "Oh, God". Her body was going into shock; or maybe survival mode; or it was just too much. With a scream that echoed in the entire country, she fell down on her knees and as her hands touched the earth every single drop of power was released along with her previously so well hidden tears. It wasn't only purple. It was blue and red and yellow. She was in pain and never even noticed. She was suffocating. She wanted to smash his head open, make him pay for everything he had done, make him suffer before she finally killed him. Once her rage subsided, she opened up her eyes, facing the pain stained faces of the people that remained. He saw him, devastated, tragically alone again, looking at her with nothing but pain and questions. It wasn't him who helped her up and supported her weight. And it would never be Bucky again. Right before she passed out, she saw Thor's distressed face. He too had lost everything. "I got you".

_______

Taglist: @coffee-with-orion @accio-rogers @stydia-4-ever @smilexcaptainx @elliee1497

[atamascolily]

The cover of Junior Jedi Knights #5: Vader's Fortress by Rebecca Moesta features Anakin and Artoo dodging blaster fire while Tahiri does a bad-ass leap and Darth Vader looms in the background. So I guess this next field trip is to wherever the hell Vader's fortress is located... and given that this book was published in 1997, I'm pretty sure it isn't Mustafar.

Readers, I squealed with delight when I realized they were actually going to Bast Castle on Vjun.

[cut for length and discussion of Dark Empire]

Vjun's first appearance was in Dark Empire, but it's the main setting for Sean Stewart's Clone War-era novel Yoda: Dark Rendezvous (2004), which happens to be one of the best Legends books ever. Period. Drop everything and go read it now. Stewart's Vjun is a Dark side Gothic horror wonderland full of crumbling castles, crazed nobility, and flesh-eating moss. I love it, and you will, too.

Vjun also appears in various video games, with no less than Kyle Katarn describing it as "a big, dead, important rock". High praise, indeed.

Oh, and if you're curious, Wookiepeedia says Vjun is "pronounced as "VAH-JUHN" in Star Wars: Jedi Knight: Jedi Academy, but in Star Wars Battlefront: Elite Squadron, it is pronounced as "VUHN"".... so anything goes, really.

Anyway, so having dealt with his heritage by going to Dagobah in the last book, the logical next step is for Anakin to actually go and visit Vader's castle in person. You know, exposure therapy. Right?

Okay, let's see what the text says.

Anakin, Tahiri and Uldir are hanging out on the landing pad on Yavin IV waiting for Tionne to show up. Tahiri loves Tionne so much, she doesn't mind waiting around, and she wishes she could have gone with Tionne on this latest trip to Borgo Prime and I just... I love their relationship, okay?

Tionne has a new ship - the Lore Seeker! Anakin uses the Force to determine it's in great shape despite its odd appearance. (It has sails to harness solar wind, lol!)

“I’m glad to hear you say that,” the Jedi instructor said with a smile. “I thought so, too. But because the ship was so old, I was able to buy it from a Randoni trader for a song.”

“How much did you really pay?” Uldir asked.

Tionne shrugged.

“Just a song. Really. While I was looking for Jedi legends, I came across an ancient song that told about the very firstRan - doni merchants and the vaults where they hid their wealth. The trader was so interested that she offered me the Lore Seeker in exchange for the song. Now come help me unload my cargo, and I’ll show you some of my other treasures.”

DID I MENTION I LOVE HER???

Also, Tionne got some other stuff, too:

“You may carry this Twi’lek story-chain, Tahiri-each link tells a different part of a story. Please be very careful with it. Uldir, here is a holodisk. It holds a recording of some very old Jedi songs. Anakin, would you please carry this scroll? I’ll take the tapestry.”’

AHHHHHH, I LOVE THIS.

But Tionne found out something else important "in an old fortress on a planet called Vjun" and this is where I started SCREAMING because I know exactly where this is going and this is such a great set-up - especially since none of the kids have a clue.

Of course, they want to go, and Tionne's trying to be diplomatic about it.

“Does anyone live in the fortress?” Anakin asked.

Tionne shook her head.

“Not anymore.”

“Well, if it’s really that important, don’t you think you ought to go find it?” Tahiri said. “And don’t forget that you promised to take me with you this time.”

“I’d like to go along, too,” Anakin added.

“Yeah, it sounds like fun,” Uldir said.

Tionne frowned.

“I’m not sure Master Skywalker will approve. It could be a bit dangerous."

LOLOLOLOL, since when has that ever stopped anybody in this series?? But according to Tionne, the danger isn't Sith ghosts or anything like that - it's other people trying to snag a certain treasure first.

And what is this special object? the kids want to know.

Tionne’s face lit with a wondering smile, and she gave a happy sigh.

“It’s Obi-Wan Kenobi’s lightsaber!”

ITS A MACGUFFIN! Also, given all of Vader’s issues with Obi-wan, the fact that he kept his old master’s lightsaber in his hidden Gothic Drama Castle is... something. But I digress.

Cut to Luke, being Luke.

Luke Skywalker, dressed in a comfortable black flightsuit, sat on the stone floor in the room where he meditated and did his office work. At the moment, though, Luke was not meditating. Before him in the center of the room stood his barrel-shaped blue and white droid, ArtooDetoo. It was time for Artoo’s routine cleaning. Anakin’s older sister Jaina often helped Luke with this chore, but the Jedi Master didn’t mind doing it himself. He actually found it relaxing. With his tools neatly laid out on the floor and fresh packets of lubricant beside him, Master Skywalker opened ArtooDetoo’s front panels and got to work.

After checking the droid’s numerous electrical connections, Luke added a few gadgets and upgrades Jaina had scrounged up for Artoo: a retractable mirror attachment, a power booster for the comm unit, and a new focusing lens for the hologram projector.

I'm sure NONE of these upgrades will come in handy later on in the book. Nope. Nope. Nope. Move along, nothing to see here, just a boy and his bro-bot.

Ikrit is hanging out on top of Artoo's head during all of this, when there's a knock at the door. Luke asks him to open the door and Ikrit DOES and I don't know why I find this so adorable, but I totally do. More of this, please.

Luke looked up from the packet of slippery lubricant he held in his hand, then smiled when he saw who his visitors were.

“Come in,” he said, “all of you.”

His words seemed to open an invisible dam, because people and noises instantly flooded into his quiet room. Luke laughed as everyone tried to talk to him at once.

“Master Skywalker, I have wonderful news,” Tionne said. “You’ll never guess in a million years,” Tahiri added.

“Can I go with them?” Anakin asked.

“Yeah, me too!” Uldir said.

News of Obi-wan's lightsaber makes Luke have all kinds of Feels (and a handy flashback for those who have forgotten the movies). Luke's like, Oh, yeah, Bast Castle, I've been there before back in Dark Empire when things got weird, and Anakin FREAKS OUT. Tionne's like, huh, maybe that's why my contact said only family had a right to claim the lightsaber then.

Tionne wants Luke to come with her, but Luke is meeting with Leia for pressing NR business, so Anakin volunteers to go as the family rep. I love that Luke looks at Ikrit first, and only says okay when Ikrit nods. Of course Uldir wants to come too, and Luke is about to say no, but Tionne's like "he's just going to stow away, so you might as well and the cargo hold on my ship is too small for him plus our stuff" so Luke caves. DID I MENTION HE'S A SOFTIE?? And with Artoo and Ikrit to help, Luke feels good about it, but again, he insists on the parental permission first.

[Oh, no, I just realized that Luke might not want to go back to Vjun after all the traumatic shit that went down in Dark Empire, and that's ALSO horrifying to contemplate. Like, it's not dangerous anymore, so he's okay with sending Anakin there with supervision, but he might not be eager to re-visit it? MY HEART.]

We skip that scene, though, and jump immediately to everyone in the Lore Seeker, and Tionne teaches them about lightsabers. Nomi Sunrider is namedropped (queen!) but overall lightsabers are reified, and I don't know how I feel about that tbh, even though they are admittedly SUPER COOL LASER SWORDS BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ.

Fortunately, Ikrit's there to say "Not All Jedi," since I am not, which catches Tionne off guard, since she didn't know he was a Jedi master. Tionne is apologetic about treating Ikrit like a pet, but Uldir continues to be a jerk, especially when Ikrit starts sharing his own personal trauma. And then Ikrit declaims about Anakin and Tahiri's powers, but graciously includes Uldir once Uldir pokes him about it.

The skies of Vjun are stormy, so it's a bumpy ride down. They land outside the castle instead of on the landing pad at the top because the weather is so awful. Anakin did his homework, and explains the situation (Dark Empire recap!):

“Did Uncle Luke tell you anything about the fortress itself?” Anakin asked.

“I don’t know much about it.”

“Well, I found out as much as I could before we left. Apparently Vader built Bast Castle as one of his private strongholds; he was a powerful man. After both he and Emperor Palpatine died, some of the Emperor’s followers brought a copy of Palpatine’s body here-a clone. This second Emperor was defeated too. Since then, the fortress has been abandoned, as far as we know.”

“I still don’t get it,” Uldir said to Anakin. “Why would your grandfather choose to build in such a desolate place?”

Oh, you sweet summer child.

They spy another shuttle, and Tahiri is forced to wear shoes again so they can climb up in the rain. It's basically the Stairs of Minas Morgul from LOTR, only the rain is turning to sleet. Artoo hates stairs and Ikrit rescues him when he falls off - but he can hack the door open, so that's good. The hall has a giant, larger-than-life statue of Darth Vader toppled over on the floor, because... drama.

Then the laser fire starts, and everybody ducks for cover. Artoo uses his newly-installed reviewed mirror to deflect the laster bolts, so they can disarm the automatic security system. Tionne steps in with her lightsaber when Artoo gets shot, and she and Ikrit start tossing random objects to block them while the kids race for the control panels and it's epic. The statue explodes and Artoo manages to hack the system right before he powers down.

Uldir clapped one hand down on Anakin’s shoulder. “Not half bad for a kid,” he said.

Quiet, you condescending fuck. Yes, I know, he's like 14, but he's still obnoxious as hell here.

Anyway, they repair Artoo, except he can't climb any more stairs (I'm so confused how he did it earlier, but okay), and they debate whether to split the party. The smart answer is always "No," but they eventually do anyway, because plot. Tahiri's just happy not to wear shoes. You'll be happy to know that the bathrooms still work. This whole thing feels like an RPG dungeon crawl and I'm HERE FOR IT.

Tahiri notices the floor's texture shifts and that turns out to be a clue and I LOVE THIS. There's a secret pit trap full of spkes, and then suddenly they're attacked by monsters. But eventually, the others find them and deduce that they're holograms. Anakin IDs himself to a door and it opens into a secret chamber... and then this happens:

At the same moment, a puff of smoke erupted in the doorway, and a dark-haired man with a neat beard, tawny eyes, and a deep purple cloak stood before them. The man threw back his head and laughed, although Anakin couldn’t see what was so funny.

“The powerful Mage of Exis Station thanks you,” he said. “I would never have found the lightsaber without your help.” He snatched the weapon from Tionne’s hand. “But I’ll take it now.”

Tahiri starts pestering this guy with questions and he is startled enough to admit he's the Mighty Orloc. Tahiri realizes he's a stage magician, but even so, he manages to open a trapdoor, sending Tionne and Ikrit elsewhere. The kids rush him, but there's smoke and when it clears, Orloc has vanished.

Ikrit and Tionne are fine, and they start looking to rejoin the kids, who are searching for them and/or Orloc. Artoo and Uldir take a tunnel while Tahiri and Anakin go up stairs. Everyone keeps tossing the stale Imperial ration bars they picked up earlier to test for traps, and the RP gamer  in me approves.

“What’s this?” Tahiri asked, pointing to a raised platform that held a huge tube made of black plasteel. Wires and hoses snaked out from the cylinder in all directions. She ran a hand along its smooth side and found some sort of control panel.

“This looks like the tubes they use to bury dead people in space,” Anakin said.

It's actually Vader's bedroom! They find a little hidden hologram of a young Luke and I just... can't even...

Anakin opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. The little hologram of a young Luke Skywalker turned in a slow circle, so that they could see it from every angle.

...Anakin felt a lump form in his throat. “My mom keeps holograms of me and Jacen and Jaina on her desk at work, and Dad has one of me and the twins in the Millennium Falcon. I think Darth Vader was just doing the same thing.”

“So maybe he wasn’t all bad,” Tahiri said in a soft voice.

Anakin starts to feel better about coming to Bast Castle, which is good, because he has Deep-Seated Issues that need to be resolved.

Meanwhile, Uldir sees the lightsaber as a magical talisman that will help him become a Jedi. He abandons Artoo and confronts Orloc, who draws the blade on him. Orloc offers to teach Uldir his powers if he'll come with him. Orloc's looking for the Holocron in Vader's private quarters, and Uldir is tempted, but ultimately turns him down because he realizes Orloc is a fraud.

Anakin and Tahiri find Orloc and Uldir and Tahiri slides down a pole to confront him. Orloc attacks her with the lightsaber. Tionne and Ikrit show up, and Artoo uses a high-frequency blast to distract Orloc long enough for Ikrit to yank the lightsaber with the Force. Orloc disappears, and Uldir mentions the Holocron in Vader's private quarters. So Anakin and Tahiri take them back there.

Tionne's like, let's GTFO, but Uldir suggests they test it, which is a mistake, but Tionne agrees. OF COURSE Orloc comes back and snags it. They chase Orloc through the castle, and there's a lot of trap door shenanigans, but ultimately Artoo helps save the day and they get the holocron back, even though Orloc conveniently escapes.

(Maybe I've been watching too much Scooby-Doo, but I honestly expected Orloc to say "And I would have gotten away with it, too, if it weren't for you meddling kids and your talking [lagomorph]!" ...maybe in the next book?)

Ikrit suggests they use the ships in the hangar to fly down to the Lore Seeker instead of walking. Anakin suggests Ikrit keeps the ship, since he seems to enjoy piloting, and I don't know how Ikrit is piloting this thing since he's a lagomorph, but it makes him happy, and they all make it back to Yavin in two ships without incident, which means it's time for the inspirational moral!

“It feels good to be back,” he said with a sigh. Tahiri giggled. “That was certainly more of an adventure than I had bargained for.”

Tionne looked at her two students.

“Are you sorry you came with me?”

Anakin shook his head.

“The trip was worth making. I learned some interesting things about Darth Vader.”

“I learned to trust the Force and not just my eyes and ears,” Tahiri said.

“And we did find a lightsaber and a Holocron,” Anakin said.

“And a new ship for Ikrit,” Tahiri added. “So I think we’re glad we came along, but it may be a while before we go looking for adventures again.”

HAHAHAHA, right, kids. You just keep thinking that.

Ikrit names his ship the Sunrider after Nomi Sunrider, because he, too, stans a legend. Anakin and Tahiri ask if they can take the turbolift up to the Great Temple when Luke starts walking up the outside stairs, and Luke has NO IDEA WHY THEY HATE STAIRS, and... on that note, the book ends, with Luke being VERY confused. [I like that Moesta remembers the Great Temple has outside stairs, but... THE LAYOUT STILL MAKES NO SENSE!!!]

So, I don't know how to feel about this book. PROS: I love the character details with Luke, Ikrit, Tionne and Tahiri, and I like how all of the adults continue to be responsible while still allowing opportunities for the children to be competent and show initiative. It's great to see Bast Castle, and the whole thing has the feel of a classic RPG dungeon crawl. Yay for Artoo saving the day ON MULTIPLE OCCASIONS, lol.

CONS: Uldir is annoying, and I wish he'd stop being such a jerk. None of the characters have ever played RPGs and it shows in their lack of genre-savvy. And I guess we'll see Orloc again in the next book, because... it feels like there wasn't much resolution of that particular plot in this book... no resolution to who Orloc actually is, or what or why. I feel like this book is part one of a two-episode plot, and I wasn't expecting that, but okay.

It's unclear if Obi-wan's lightsaber has any further plot significance or if it's just a macguffin. Ditto the holocron. But given the next book is Kenobi's Blade, I suspect Orloc's going to try and snag both, and Uldir is going to have a Not-So-Secret Test of Character about it. (To be fair, he passed the one in this book, so he's not all bad, but he's so obnoxious, it's challenging for me to give him credit where it's due.)

This book also kinda sorta falls into the "Jedi lightsaber fetish" trope, which I hate. Don't get me wrong, I love the laser swords and they are freaking awesome, but I hate how everybody latches onto "Jedi = laser sword" business as a symbol of identity. I know, I know, Star Wars is really ambivalent about whether the Jedi are Space!Samurai or Space!Monks, and I just... lean more towards the latter than the former, I guess?? But like I said, the lightsaber is more of a macguffin here, and Ikrit at least lampshades the issue a little bit, so I feel better about it.  

Also, it just occurred to me it's unclear whether Tahiri hates shoes, sand, or stairs more, lol.

[henrik-von-schneeplestein]

❝ i’ll make sure nothing bad happens to you. ❞ -schneeplebro, you got me loving this one

Okay, first of all, thank you so much. Second of all, I’m so sorry that this took so long. It reminded me of a story that’s been in the back of my head for a little while now so I just decided to go ahead and do that even though I didn’t 100% know where it was going.

Warning for medical situations and surgery, but nothing graphic. No one’s more squeamish then me so I very intentionally skipped over/bullshitted around that stuff, even if it made the pacing kinda weird lol.

“There’s a patient looking for you.”

“If they just have a question send Laura. I’m on call for emergencies today,” he answered the intern without looking up from his paperwork.

“No, this guy said he was a friend of yours. Name was Chase -”

“Where is he?” Henrik almost knocked the kid over, he was up and across the room so fast. 

“He was in the ER last I-”

Henrik didn’t wait for him, just went right for the stairs. The ER was, as always, chaotic and noisy, but he managed to pull a doctor aside and ask about Chase.

“No Chase Brodys admitted - I have an Alexis Brody.”

“Yeah, that’s his daughter. Where are they?” As the doctor led him back into one of the rooms, Henrik didn’t know what to expect. Anything bad happening to the kids was unimaginable; but at the same time, Chase did have a very real history of hypochondria when it came to them. Henrik couldn’t even begin to count the number of times throughout their friendship he’d answered frantic late night phone calls about fevers or double-checked scraped knees for signs of infection.

He knocked before opening the door. “Chase?”

Chase was sitting next to Lexi, rubbing his face with one hand and looking close to tears. His younger son was sitting in his lap, but when Henrik came in, he stood up, setting Noah back down in the seat, and said, in one breath, “She wasn’t feeling well and she wouldn’t eat and then she said it really hurt in her side and so I brought her here and um, they felt her stomach and then they did an ultrasound and they said it was appendicitis so they want to get her into surgery and I couldn’t even get in touch with Stacy until like twenty minutes ago and she drove out to visit her parents this weekend so she probably won’t be here for hours but they want to take Lexi to Sedation right away.”

He put a hand on Chase’s arm. “Alright. Is all alright, Chase. Hi, by the way.”

“Henrik.”

“Okay, okay.” He walked crouched down beside Lexi. She was awake, but not at all her usual energetic self. “Hi, Lex Luthor.”

“Hi Schneeple.”

“How are we feeling, hm? I bet the other doctors already poked your belly a whole bunch?”

“Yeah - it hurt.”

“Have they given her anything for pain yet?” he asked Chase, looking up at her IV pole.

“Yeah. Just, uh, ten minutes ago, maybe? Like right before you got here.”

“Ok. I’ll be gentle, I promise.” He pressed along her abdomen briefly; after a few whimpers he didn’t see much reason to keep tormenting her. They’d already done the ultrasound. “We should definitely get her into surgery as soon as possible. You might want to call Jackie, see if he can come by to pick Noah up and watch him for a while. I don’t know how long you’ll be here.” Chase just looked at him, eyes wide, like he was waiting for Henrik tell him what to do to make this go away, or what he did to make it happen in the first place. The best he could give was, “It is a very safe procedure. We do it all the time. And I’ll make sure she gets Dr. Fletcher; she’s one of the best surgeons-”

“Wait, you’re not gonna do it?”

“I did not think that would be what you wanted. I am supposed to be doing emergency surgeries today, but if I explain to my boss what the situation is, I’m sure we could get someone else.” Technically, there was nothing against the rules about him doing the surgery; she wasn’t a family member. But he and Chase were close - best friends… even if they weren’t as close as Henrik wanted them to be. And unlikely as it was, if anything went wrong, Chase would never forgive him. Henrik wasn’t, by nature, a dramatic person, but this was Chase’s child. Even if he didn’t hate Henrik forever - and that was a big if - there was no way they could ever be friends again. 

“I don’t know the other doctors.”

“I promise, they are all excellent and more than qualified for such a simple -”

“I don’t care.” He stepped closer to Henrik, grabbing his wrist and looking straight into his eyes. “I only trust you. Please.”

He took a second to answer but he didn’t know why. Maybe just to drink in the sight of Chase looking right at him, in case it was the last time it ever happened. Because he knew, as soon as Chase asked, that he was going to do it. He couldn’t say no to him, and he wasn’t going to leave Chase with someone he wasn’t comfortable with just so he could duck out of the pressure. He was many things, but he wasn’t a coward. If for some reason this was the one in a million case and something terrible happened he was going to lose Chase, but he’d rather be able to look him in the eye and tell him that he had done everything he could than have to live with the guilt of being too scared and stepping aside when he might have been able to do something. He slid his hand into Chase’s, squeezed it, and then walked back to Lexi.

“Did the other doctors explain what we’re gonna do?”

“Surgery?”

He chuckled. He knew she knew what surgery was in a general sense; they’d done pretend operations on her stuffed animals once or twice, and she was normally excited whenever she got to visit him at the hospital. It was a testament to how bad she felt that she hadn’t demanded to use his stethoscope yet. “Yes, surgery. There’s this nasty little bugger inside you called your appendix that’s making your belly hurt, so I’m going to take it out, okay?”

“Is it gonna hurt?”

“We will give you medicine to make you go right to sleep and you won’t feel a thing. It may be a little bit sore when you wake up, but not as bad as it is now. We can give you some more of this pain medicine, and I think just maybe your parents might be convinced to give you some ice cream when you start feeling hungry again. Do we have a deal?”

“Ok. But only because you’re the best doctor and I know you’ll do a good job.”

He smiled and held out a hand for her to shake. Her hand was so tiny; even with all her bravery and sincerity, she was still just a little kid, and he loved her like he loved his own kids. Chase wasn’t the only one he was scared of losing, but that thought was unbearable, so he promised both of them, “I’ll make sure nothing bad happens to you.”

He turned back to Chase. “I will tell them we are ready to go to get moving. They should be here in a few minutes; you might want to try Jackie while you wait. You can tell him - and Stacy, when she gets closer - to go in the main entrance of the hospital. I’m going to have a buddy of mine go and explain what is happening to the person at the information desk, so they’ll know where to send them. In Sedation they will get her ready for surgery - give her some antibiotics, maybe something to calm her down, if you think that would be best. You will probably have some papers to sign. I will meet with my team, we will figure out some details. Usually they’d have me go out and see her beforehand, but I will let them know I’ve already examined her, so I’m not sure if I’ll see you or not. Once she’s in the OR, someone will take you to the waiting room until we’re done. Alright?”

“Okay.” 

Henrik waited a second for him to say more - ‘good luck,’ maybe, or ‘goodbye.’ But he seemed to be scared beyond words, so Henrik gave him what he hoped was an encouraging nod and left to check in with the ER team. 

After that, as promised, he tracked down one of his coworkers and hurriedly asked them to go to the front desk and tell whoever was there that when a Jackie or Stacy came in to send them to the waiting room outside the OR, and even as he was finishing up, he was being paged.

It was like life was happening at double speed, meeting with the rest of his staff about the case, telling them he’d already been called to the ER to examine the patient, scrubbing in. And then it stalled to slow motion as they wheeled her in. Chase was with her - they let parents do that sometimes with pediatric patients, just until they fell asleep. 

It was strange and wrong, to see him here. Chase’s eyes scanned the room and all the surgical staff. He blinked when his eyes met Henrik’s, like he hadn’t recognized him in the full getup of his surgical gown, gloves, and mask until that moment.

“Ready?” the anesthesiologist asked Lexi. 

“Yeah.”

Chase squeezed her hand. “You have good dreams, ok, and I’ll be there when you wake up. I love you.” 

They held the mask over her face and told her to take deep breaths. Henrik watched Chase; he couldn’t touch him - it wasn’t sterile - and there wasn’t much he could say to him either. It may not be technically illegal to operate on someone you happened to know, but given how close they actually were, this was an ethical nightmare, and if any of the other doctors in the room caught wind of it, they wouldn’t hesitate to tell Schneep to get the hell out and send in a more impartial surgeon. He just tried to be gentle when he said, “we’ll take it from here.”

Then Chase left, and in spite of everything, Henrik felt calm. One of the reasons he loved his job was that it was straightforward in its complexity. It wasn’t easy, but it was simple in that there was procedure to it, it was step by step, do this then this, be careful of that, and if something goes wrong, you have a limited number of choices, each with clear, factual benefits and risks. It wasn’t like life, where everything was all tangled up and you could fall in love with your best friend and you had to decide to tell him, or not tell him, or tell him in four months or two years, and there was no way to know what would happen when you did. Henrik was never good at ‘meditating’ or ‘deep breathing;’ his mind was only ever clear when he was standing over a patient, when he had no choice because someone’s life depended on his ability to shut up all the noise that forever rang in the back of his mind and focus on doing each thing perfectly, one step at a time.

And almost in a blur, it was over. Even as they were stitching and bandaging, he almost couldn’t believe it. He’d been holding his breath for the disaster and it never came.

Apparently Chase felt the same; after taking extra care to wash all the blood off his hands, he wanted to be the one to tell Chase they were done. As soon as he walked into the waiting room, Chase sprang out of his seat like he had in the ER earlier. “What happened?” 

“Nothing happened. Everything went perfectly and they’re taking her to Recovery now.”

Chase stared at him for a second then ran across the room, more or less jumping to wrap his arms around Henrik’s neck. Henrik wrapped his around Chase’s waist and held him for a moment, until he realized that Chase was crying - finally, after holding it together as long as he needed to. Schneep patted his back. “Hey, let’s go see her, ok?”

He sniffled but nodded. “Yeah.” He picked up a plastic bag that was sitting beside his chair. “Jackie brought me some stuff from the gift shop on his way to pick up Noah,” he explained. “He took him back to my apartment so he could give him dinner and get him into his pajamas and all that. I didn’t know if we’d be here overnight.”

He held the door open for Chase and lead him down the hallway. “We’ll probably hold her just for observation, yes.” They turned into the room and Henrik pulled back the curtain. “She might not wake up for a few minutes. I convinced them to go on the heavier side of the safe range of dosage for the anesthesia and pain medicine. She will be groggy at first, but she shouldn’t be in much pain. And if they gave her medicine for anxiety beforehand, she probably won’t remember what happened after that; that is normal side effect.”

They sat down in the uncomfortable hospital chairs, Chase never taking his eyes off of Lexi. “They decided they didn’t need to, ‘cause she was ok. She’s so brave, I don’t know where she gets that.”

“From you.”

“Please. I’m a mess. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you didn’t work here, dude. I can’t handle this kind of shit by myself.”

“It seemed pretty handled when I got there. She was already where she needed to be.”

Chase shrugged, ducking his face. He reached into the plastic bag and pulled out a bottle of water - which, Henrik was glad to see, it looked like he’d already been drinking -  and took a sip. “Do you want something?” He pulled the bag all the way open in his lap. Henrik could see three more bottles of water, two of those refrigerated bottles of iced coffee, a little get well soon teddy bear, a phone charger, a few granola bars, and some chocolate. Leave it to Jackie.

“I mean, I didn’t want to say anything, but usually when you come visit me at work you bring me some lunch or something.”

Chase laughed, and the sound almost made the whole exhausting day worth it. “I apologize for my rudeness.” He held one of the coffees out to him. “I know you don’t usually like iced, but hey, it’s caffeine.”

“No thank you. I’m sure one of them is for Stacy. Have you heard from her, by the way?”

“Oh, yeah. She should be here any minute.” He bit his lip. “She’s gonna be mad.”

“Why on Earth would she be mad? What could you have done?”

“I don’t think she’ll really be mad at me, but she’ll be frustrated. And scared. As shitty as this day is, I don’t even want to think about one of the kids being in the hospital and me not being able to get to them. I just think we’re both too emotional right now, and things between us are still… a little tough. I don’t know how this is gonna go down.” 

He never knew how Chase did that, could see the humanity in the worst of situations, and he never knew what to say when he did it either. He just looked at him until Chase said, “Lexi’s ok. That’s all that matters.”

It was all that mattered. After all the unexpected stress of the day, Henrik started to relax a little, just sitting with Chase. He spent a few minutes going over some of the basics of what they’d do for pain medicine, how to take care of the wound. At some point, Alexis stirred.

“Hey, sweetie. How do you feel?”

“When’s the surgery?” she asked, her eyes still closed.

“The surgery’s over. You did it.”

“I did it?”

“You did! You did a great job. Do you want some water?”

“Mmm-mm. Not thirsty, just sleepy.”

“Don’t you at least want to see what Uncle Jackie got you?”

But she’d already fallen back to sleep.

“Should I wake her up again?”

“You don’t need to unless you want to try. She’s getting fluids; she won’t dehydrate.”

Chase settled back into his chair. 

“At some point, we’ll get her moved to a proper room for the night. But I make no promises about when. Trust me, now that this is no longer an emergency, you’ll see how slow a hospital can be.”

“If that’s the worst I have to deal with, I think I’ll live.”

“That’s -”

And then the door opened, and there was Stacy, looking completely frantic. “Where-”

Chase got up to get her attention. “It’s alright, Stace. She’s right here, she’s ok. Everything’s good now. She woke up a little for a minute, she was out of it but-”

He was cut off by Stacy pulling him into a hug. “Thank God you were there, Chase. She told me her stomach felt weird before I dropped her off to you last night and I thought she was just being dramatic because she - she wanted to take every stuffed animal she owned, I swear, and I told her there was no room and she had to pick just a few and I don’t know why I didn’t listen to her or why I didn’t let her take the damn toys I just -”

Whatever Chase had been expecting, it clearly wasn’t this, but he managed to get her to sit down, offer her some water. “That was probably nothing. It started getting bad this afternoon - believe me, you would’ve noticed. You would’ve done the same thing.”

Henrik was suddenly very uncomfortable; he backed off to a corner of the room, not sure what he was meant to do or say, just watching them talk between themselves. After a few minutes, Chase came over to where he was standing.

“Hey - you heading out soon?”

His shift had long since ended, but it felt so strange to just walk away from the situation. “I can stay. I don’t have the boys tonight.”

“No, you should go. You must be tired. Go home and get some rest; we’ll be good here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I texted Jackie, he said he can handle Noah for the night. Stacy and I are gonna stay with Lex.”

“Okay. You know where everything is - the cafeteria, the vending machines, all that?” Chase nodded. “And my office, too? I will leave the door unlocked for the night, in case you need anything or you decide you need to be… in separate rooms for a while.”

“It actually seems kinda fine. I don’t think it’ll be a problem.”

“Well, just in case. And there should be a sweater in there if you get cold, some snacks maybe. Just look in the desk drawers.”

“Got it. Now go get some sleep, for real.”

He said it kindly, but it still felt like he was being sent away. He knew it was childish and stupid, but after everything, it was hard to let go. To accept that no matter how much they went through, Chase and Lexi weren’t his family. To leave them behind.

By this time, the hallways were a little quieter. He’d just pressed the button for the elevator when he heard Chase’s voice yell, “hey wait!”

He turned, and Chase was jogging toward him. “I forgot to tell you something!”

“What is it?”

Once again, Chase wrapped his arms around him, pressing his head against Henrik’s chest for a brief second before getting on his tiptoes to whisper in his ear.

“Thank you.”

And maybe it didn’t change anything, but the elevator opened behind them and then closed again, and they were still holding on to each other.

[reeree1500]

The Return- Part 10

Disclaimer: YALL IM SO SO SO SORRY.😭😭 I have been horrible and not updated this story for at least a month.😬 I can explain though... University has been kicking my ass and between that and my co-op placement at a law firm.😅 Ive had absolutely no time to do anything😩 BTW IVE MISSED YALL SO MUCH❤️And Ive read all your messages and asks. And yes my mental health is now better and y'all are so understanding and supportive 💕 honestly could not have asked for a better group of individuals☺️❤️

Part 1 part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 part 8 part 9 Part 11 

Anyways onto the storyyyyy.....

Warnings: ANGSTY AF (kinda figured out that im probably a smut and angst writer at this point🤷🏽‍♀️), sucky ass grammar and spelling like always, my cliche imagination and the fact that Im probably a horrible human being😬😩 Also made it extra long cuz I felt baddd 

PLEASE DONT KILL ME FOR THIS ONE😬

Taglist: @yanii-the-hippie @oceans-daughter-3 @peaceisadirtyword @laketaj24 @camatsuru @youbloodymadgenius @calum-hoodwinked-me @cutegyrl927 @wuxiesalt @readsalot73 @cindy-exo @affection-rabbit @amy8220 @mel0nch0ly @queenofallthyfandoms @limbo-limbo-limbo @ragnarssonsbitch @supernaturalvikingwhore @ifihadwings128 @paintballkid711 @jenny-the-lover @funmadnessandbadassvikings @blonddnamedhandz @hallowed-heathen @pinkrockstar19 @ivarthethiccness

Sorry if I missed any of you💕 Lemme know if you want to be tagged. Also requests are open, and I’ve got a ton of them to do and finish. Hopefully Ill be able to post them soon enough

Arthur’s POV

“Arthur please! Open the door my love, I know what it may seem like to you, but I assure you that its not.” (Y/n) pleaded from the other side. I sat down on the mattress in our chamber contemplating whether or not it was true. Should I believe what my wife so desperately is trying to reassure me off. Or should I stick with my gut feeling and tell her how I have felt for the last 4 years. Her constant pounding on the door finally gets to me and I make my way to open it. “I wish to be left alone at the moment (y/n).” Her arms circle around my waist and I can feel her face wetting by back with tears. “Arthur please, talk to me. Why have you run off. You know that I love you. I do not want him, all he does is bring me pain and you take that away. So please, talk to me!” (y/n) murmurs into my back. As much as it pains me to do so I pry her hands off of me and sit us down on the bed. All I do is long for her touch, but this is not okay. I cannot keep feeling this way and go on pretending that I could have ever stood a chance against him. “(y/n), look at me. I love you and I always will. But its evident that you love him. and I honestly can say that I know I will never stand a chance against him, because the thought of you possibly running back to him has always been on my mind since the day we got married.” 

Her eyes showed so much pain that confessing this felt as if I was driving a knife through her heart. “Arthur, I love you. What can I do to show you that. Yes I confess that I was in love with him, but that was long ago and I have left it in the past in order to build a future with you. Whom I love and who I share and will continue to share beautiful children with. So please don't shut me out, Arthur.” She says leaning our foreheads together and holding my face in her gentle hands. “Ok, however I want to be able to process things by myself. So I have decided to have the guest room across the hall prepared only until I figure things out.” With out giving her a chance to fight back, I place my lips on hers and savour the kiss as if it were our last. Meeting her eyes was something I wanted to avoid as I knew that just looking at her broken expression would make me change my mind. I hastily make my way out of the room, but sneak a quick glance over my shoulder to find my wife staring off into the direction where I once sat. With tears streaming down her eyes...

Your POV

What had I done? Why was I such fool to not see what my husband was clearly going through? Millions of questions rushed into my mind about how to go about this situation. I loved Arthur, I was clear on that. But he spoke the truth, there was something in me that could not let Ivar go and it took hurting my husband and Ivar to figure that out. As I sulked I forgot about the doctor whom I had asked to see me earlier. I was having really bad stomach pains and my breasts were more tender then they had ever been. So I wanted to make sure that I was not sick, as that would have been the last thing I needed on my plate at the moment. “My Queen, are you alright? Do you wish to push back this appointment, I dont mind coming by later when you're better.” The doctor spoke from behind me. “Yes, it seems so. Ill let the servant girl know if I need you doctor. Im sorry for the inconvenience.” “Nonsense your majesty, it is my pleasure to serve you.” With a bow the doctor retreats from the room and Im left to my own thoughts once again...

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

“(y/n), wake up... its seems that you fell asleep on the floor. Come on I’ll help you up.” Upon hearing Hvitty’s comforting voice my eyes flutter open and I cant help the tears that song come down my face like a cascade. “(y/n)! are you alright are you hurt anywhere? Why are you crying?” Hvitserk’s eyes scan my face and my body looking for the source of my pain, which is held in my heart, but he’ll never know that. “Arthur... He...” I try to find the words to say. “What! What did he do! Did he hurt you? I swear ill kill him!” With that Hvitserk tries to let me go and run out the door, but somehow I manage to stop him. “Hvitserk, No! He didn't hurt me. I hurt him... He believes that Im in love with Ivar, and I fear that their maybe some truth to it...” I say just above a whisper, with my head held low. “(Y/N), Ive known that since before you were married. It was obvious, but I would never say anything to you because I found that it was best if I kept such observations to myself, before I found out about your father.” Lifting my head and staring directly at him, I move my head to the side with a puzzling look. “What do you mean about my father, Hvitserk?” Hvitserk now mirrors the same lost look that I have on my face. “I thought thats why you and Ivar had gotten together, because Ragnar’s not your father...”

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Ivar’s POV

“Aghhhh!”Is the sound that comes out of my gritted teeth when the medicinal herbs are placed on my face. “That hurts like a bitch, get out! Ill do this myself if I have to. GO!” I yell at the servant girl who tried to cleanse and tend to the cuts on my face. “Ivar,  please let the servants tend to you. I still cannot believe that Arthur punched you in the face. Hehehe, you deserved it though, how could you question the paternity of his children and not expect him to want to kill you?” Bjorn laughs as he chugs the rest of his drink down. “Well, if you actually cared about your children and the heir to your throne, you’d also be quite upset to find a Christian King claiming to be their father. Those children are mine! And its pretty evident, just look at Marjorie. She's my spitting image.” I snarl at him as the anger begins to rise in me again. “Ivar, thats your mistake and why you’ll never get (y/n) back. You believe that everything should be yours. And that people are things you can govern over, but they're not. Because those are children. And yes they may be yours, but you cannot take away what they have known because you want to be selfish.” He says with a stern look on his face, whilst getting up from his chair and making his way to the door. “Now get ready and fix yourself we have a intimate dinner to attend to with MY sister and the love of your life.” Unbeknownst to us, there was Freydis on the balcony listening to our whole conversation. And little did I know that it would come to be the thing I regretted the most.

At the dinner I notice (y/n) sit on the opposite side of the table from Arthur. This wouldn't have affected me if it wasn't for the look on both of their faces. They seemed distraught and broken. Arthur masked it well, but (y/n) was an open book for all of us to know exactly how she felt at that moment. Not much talking happened, besides Marjorie and Erik shouting at each other on who was better at riding. They reminded me a lot of myself and all I wanted was to tell them the truth, that they were my children and that they would go back to Kattegat with me to learn about the true gods and not the fable that had been told to them about their so called ‘God’.” “(Y/n) are you alright, you do not seem quite like yourself tonight.” Bjorn states with a concerned look that we all share. Even Arthur looks a bit concerned, but his body language makes it seem as if he is alright and nothing is wrong. “Sarah, could you please put Marjorie and Erik to bed? Its getting late for them and they have their lessons early in the morning.” She says with a stern and cold look in her (e/c) eyes. “Su...sure your majesty. “ At that Bjorn stands up as if to accompany Sarah, but is quickly stopped by (y/n)’s icy glare and venomous words. “Sit your ass down.” At that we all look astonished, but Hvitserk only stares at her with sadness and what seems to be sympathy. He must know why she is like this then. 

Bjorn slowly sits back down on the table. A shocked look graces his face, as he cannot comprehend why she is acting this way towards her beloved older brother. “How long.” Is all she grits out through her teeth. “What do you mean, (y/n)?” My eyes meet Hvitserk’s own and the realization dawns upon me. She knows...

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

Your POV

“Stop with the bullshit! I cannot take anyone else lying to me!” I scream as I bang my hands against the table, stunning everyone in sight. “How long did you know that Ragnar was not my father! How long have you kept the truth from me! How long have you known that Athelstan was my father!” I could careless about everyone staring at me as if I was a mad woman. I had been lied to my whole life. All I had known had been a lie, and the people who I trusted the most in this world had been the ones keeping it a secret from me. “(Y/N)... I..I’ve know since the moment you were born. But father had sworn me into secrecy and I could not break a promise. This doesn't change anything though. You are still my sister and you will always be.” Bjorn says in a haste as tries to come closer to me, but I step back and move as far back as I can. “Did you know? Tell me! Ivar did you know that we were not siblings!” Ivar didn't even have to answer. I knew from the look in his eyes that he too had been lying to me. 

“I knew.” Arthur says staring right at me. “I knew that you weren't his daughter and I knew that Ivar wasn't your brother. But I kept that information from you because all I wanted to do was have you by my side. I’m sorry, for the pain I have caused you (y/n). Im sorry for being selfish and not telling you the truth, but I now see that I was wrong and as of tomorrow you are free to go back to your country. I promise that your title and lands will not be taken from you or from the children. May they be mine or his. But I cannot go on with this facade anymore.” Arthur says in the most calm demeanour as he stands up and comes to me. “You hypocrite! How dare you make me feel like shit for harbouring feelings for Ivar when you knew all along and knew that my whole life was a lie.” I scream as I run at him and slap him across the face. But before I can get another punch in I feel a strong grip holding me from behind. From the shocks and the utter feeling in my stomach I knew it could have only been Ivar. As I try desperately to release from his vice grip, my whole world comes crashing down when Sarah enters the room. With blood all over her.

“Your highnesses...Erik.... he.. he..” She tries to say through her shock. “What! What is wrong with my son!” Ivar, Arthur and I scream at the same time. “He.. he’s dying!”

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

We all simultaneously run after Sarah towards the doctors quarters. Ivar with his brace on, manages to run faster than all of us and busts the doors wide open. if I wasn't so worried about my son or upset about the fact they all knew Ragnar wasn't my father, I would've been impressed. “What are you doing! Get away from my son!” At that Ivar rushes towards the doctor who is bleeding Erik out. Grabbing him by the collar he slams the doctor on the wall and his sclera go into bluish hue, showing that he is in danger of breaking a bone. “Ivar stop it! Let the man go, he is just trying to help.” “Help my ass! I will not let you harm my son, do you understand me! I will not let you harm him!” At that Ivar lets the doctor go, but not without staring him down. And the doctor looking like he is about to shit himself. Rushing to Erik’s side I notice something strange. The colour of his skin is now fading and his eyes have bags under them. But what hits me the most is the memory of Uncle Rollo teaching me about poison. “He doesn't need to be bled, he needs medicine. He’s been poisoned...” 

“Mama! What is wrong with Erik! He will be okay right? He has to be okay!” Marjorie begins to say as she shakes with fear. Before Arthur or I could say something to console her, Ivar bends down and takes her hands in his. “Marjorie, listen to me. Your brother is a fighter and so are you. After all were related aren't we?” Ivar says as he lifts her chin. “Yes..I suppose that we are. Is it true what they say though? Are you our father?” At that Ivar turns to me looking towards me for permission. At this point I think to myself how hard it was to learn my whole life had been a lie and that I would not want that for my children, so I nod. “Yes, Marjorie I am your father. And no your mother is not my sister. It was something that we had to say because she needed to be kept safe.” He says ever so calmly. “Safe from who?”She questions “From my mother. Your grandmother.”

Cough*Cough* Spurts of blood cover me in seconds. My attention becomes focused in on my son again. “Where is the damn antidote! Please someone hurry!” At that Hvitserk runs into the room with a small green vial. “Here take this it should help him. Lagertha gave it to me before her and father left. Something about it would come in handy some day. Here.” Shoving the vial in my hands I open it quickly and lift Erik’s head. “Drink this Erik. It should help you, my darling. Please be strong, I know you're scared, but you’ll be alright ok. Everything will be ok.” I say through tears. Today had been the worst day by far. “Mira... please help my son. I know you're always with me, but please help me now. Pray for my son and ask God to save him.”

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

A few hours had gone by and nobody had moved from the room. Arthur sat on the chair next to the bed with his elbows on his knees, looking straight and focused in on Erik. Bjorn and Hvitserk sat by the fireplace and were wetting some towels so that we could place them atop Eriks head. I sat on the bed next to my son and caressed his beautiful face hoping for a miracle. I had dismissed Sarah and told her to take Marjorie with her, but she would not budge. Sarah left, but Marjorie stayed and sat in Ivars lap asking him if Erik would pull through. Ivar was sweet to answer as best as he could, and I could tell that he truly cared for his children even if his demeanour wasn't the greatest. I knew that deep in my heart I would have to let him get to know them, but it still hurt especially knowing that he now was married. “Wait, where is Freydis? I haven't seen her since yesterday.” I say looking towards Ivar. “I dont know earthier to be honest, she's probably looking at some damn flowers anyway. Its best if she's far away anyway.” “Why would you say that about your wi-” “she's not my wife, at least not yet. Were not actually married, (y/n). I just said that to piss you off.” Taking a deep breath I go to stand up from the bed in order to fetch a bucket of water and some new cloths. Instead I end up on the floor cradling my belly, with a burning sensation in my chest and blood pouring out from my mouth. “(Y/n)! Mama!” I can hear the shouts around me. “Fetch the doctor! Now hurry!” The voices around me begin to fade and not before long I can feel myself drifting away.

“My baby... Save my baby...” And with that everything turns pitch black...

[sugarandspace]

Waiting

AO3

Catarina arrived fast, a Shadowhunter escorting her to Alec’s office after she’d portalled outside of the Institute. The normally calm warlock appeared shocked as she saw Magnus trashing on the floor.

“What happened?” She asked, landing on her knees next to Alec on the floor, her hands spread in the air over Magnus’ body, light blue magic scanning him.

“I-” Alec started but found his words stuck in his throat. He cleared his voice and tried to focus. “We were talking and he collapsed. He said something but it was not in a language that I know. His nose started to bleed, and then he was coughing up blood too.”

“His body is resisting the unfamiliar magic,” Catarina said, placing her hands on Magnus’ chest. “How long has he had symptoms?”

“Symptoms?” Alec asked dumbly. Magnus hadn’t had any symptoms before this.

“Yes,” Catarina said, pushing magic into her friend, but it looked like it was only making the trashing more violent. “Headaches, nosebleeds, nausea - symptoms like that.”

“I don’t know,” Alec said helplessly. “He hasn’t told me.”

“Magnus,” she said, her tone chastising before she turned her attention to Alec. “I have no other choice but to get the magic out of him. His body is resisting it to the point that it’s impossible to fix the situation and have him keep the powers.”

“Will that save him?”

“It depends on how much damage has already happened,” Catarina said, her words making Alec’s panic spike up. A hopeful, naive part of him had hoped that Catarina would arrive and use her powers and everything would be okay again. “But if I don’t remove Lorenzo’s magic it’s only going to get worse.”

Alec nodded, watching as instead of pushing her magic into Magnus’ body, it started to look like Catarina was pulling something from it. Wisps of yellow magic rose from Magnus’ chest, his back arching up in the process. The trashing stopped, and as the last bits of magic left the body and disappeared into the air, Magnus’ body went completely slack.

Alec’s hands flew to Magnus’ neck immediately, fingers searching for a pulse that he found. The pulse was weak but it was there, and Alec sighed from relief.

“When will he wake up?” Alec asked, looking at Catarina.

“There’s no way of knowing for sure,” Catarina said, turning her attention from Magnus to Alec. There was something in her expression that made Alec feel wary. “Since his state was caused by an unfamiliar magic, healing him with my magic isn’t an option and we need to let his body recover the mundane way. He’ll wake up when he’s healed enough. That is -”

“What?” Alec asked, hating the way Catarina trailed off and turned her attention back to Magnus, her expression solemn. It made dread crawl up Alec’s spine.

“That is, if he’ll wake up,” Catarina finished.

“No,” Alec said, his voice weak as he shook his head in denial. “No, no, no. He has to wake up. Has to. He can’t- he can’t die Catarina.”

“I know,” Catarina said, turning to look at Alec again. And Alec knew that she did know, was one of the few who actually could understand how Alec was feeling.

They were quiet for a while after that, their attention on Magnus. A million thoughts were going through Alec’s mind, and he knew that it was probably the same for Catarina.

“We need to take him to my room,” Alec said eventually, realising that lying on the floor couldn’t be comfortable - no matter if Magnus could actually feel it or not.  

“He’ll need mundane medicine, some fluids and a heart monitor, in case…” Catarina trailed off and Alec understood. He didn’t want to hear the words in case something goes wrong either.  

“The Institute infirmary then,” Alec said, knowing that a mundane hospital was out of question. Before Catarina could say anything, Alec slipped his arms underneath Magnus’ body, one arm supporting his back and  the other hooked under his knees. He lifted his boyfriend up from the ground, adjusting his arms when he stood up. Magnus head hung to the side unnaturally, and Alec shifted so that it was resting against his shoulder instead. The familiar feeling of soft breaths against his neck brought tears to Alec’s eyes when he thought back to the same morning when he had woken up with the warlock draped over his body, peacefully asleep as Alec had slipped out from under him so that he could bring Magnus breakfast to bed.

That morning felt so far away right now.

Catarina walked in front of him, opening the office door to Alec as they started to walk towards the infirmary. There was a small crowd of Shadowhunters lingering outside of the office, everyone curious to know what had happened in Alec’s office that had caused him to call for a medic and for Catarina Loss to enter the room a moment later. Alec paid no mind to them, walking past them briskly and ignoring the stares he could feel on his back.

When they got to the infirmary, Alec found a room that wasn’t occupied and laid Magnus down on the bed, Catarina walking to the other side of it. She waved her hand and the blood was gone from Magnus’ face, the magic taking away the slightly smudged makeup as well. Another wave and the hair that had been sticking up to every direction after all the trashing Magnus’ body has gone through on the floor was falling down his forehead as straight strands that Alec knew to be soft to the touch.

“I thought you said he couldn’t handle magic?” Alec asked.

“This kind of magic is okay because it’s only superficial. I can’t put any magic inside his body,” Catarina explained and Alec nodded in understanding.

Catarina waved her hands for the third time, the bloody clothes Magnus was wearing replaced by comfortable ones, a blanket finding is way over Magnus’ body. The clothes he was wearing before appeared into the small table next to the bed, neatly folded.

“What can I do?” Alec asked, watching as Catarina started hooking Magnus into an IV. He wanted to help, to do something useful.

“I’m afraid there isn’t anything we can do,” Catarina said. “After I connect him into the heart monitor and start the IV for fluids, all we can do is wait, give his body time to recover on its own.”

And that’s what Alec did.

He took a chair from the corner of the room and moved it next to Magnus’ bed, taking Magnus’ hand that wasn’t connected to the IV and held it. Instead of bringing comfort it felt wrong, because unlike usually when Alec reached for Magnus’ hand, this time Magnus wasn’t returning the hold. It only eased Alec’s mind when he slid his hand a bit further, two of his fingers resting over the veins on Magnus’ wrist, feeling the steady beat of Magnus’ heart.

Catarina stayed for a while, first doing what she could to help Magnus and then just sitting on the other side of the end. They didn’t talk, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable either. They both had too much in their minds to focus on polite small talk.

After a while Catarina had to leave, saying that she had pick Madzie up from a babysitter. She promised to come back later, and Alec promised to let her know if anything changed while she was gone.

Alec wasn’t really surprised when only a couple minutes after Catarina had left, his sister entered the room.

“How is he?” Izzy asked, laying a hand on Alec’s shoulder.

“Not great,” Alec said, keeping his eyes on Magnus. “Catarina took Lorenzo’s magic from his body but he’s still healing from the damage it caused.”

“And how are you feeling?” Izzy asked, her hand squeezing Alec’s shoulder gently.

Alec didn’t have the answer for that, his words getting stuck in his throat. He settled for shaking his head and taking in a shuddering breath.

“Alec…”

“She said- ” Alec said but his voice broke before he could continue. “Catarina said that he might not wake up.”

Alec heard Izzy’s shocked gasp but he didn���t look at her, instead he fixed his eyes to the floor as the tears started to fall. He didn’t try to keep them in, knowing that Izzy wouldn’t judge him.

“Oh Alec…” Izzy put her hand on Alec’s hair, combing through it as Alec leaned to her hip. It was clear that Izzy didn’t have words for the situation either, but Alec didn’t mind. He was pretty sure that the only words that could bring him comfort right now would be ones coming from the mouth of his boyfriend.

Alec calmed down after a while, a numb feeling replacing pain. He was desperate for Magnus to wake up, and felt helpless when there wasn’t anything he could do to help him.

Izzy stayed with him for a while, their silence only broken by the steady beeping of the heart monitor. Eventually she got a message, and told Alec that she needed to go.

“I can take these to get washed,” Izzy said, looking at the pile of clothes on the table. Magnus’ vest was on top of the pile, the blood stains visible. Izzy probably thought that it would be better if Alec didn’t need to keep looking at the bloody clothes.

Alec nodded, barely paying attention to what his sister had said. He looked as Izzy took the pile into her arms and started to leave the room. That’s when he remembered.

“No!” Alec said suddenly, his loud voice startling Izzy who was not expecting such a reaction. “Wait.”

Alec stood up from the chair and walked around to where Izzy was standing. He took Magnus’ pants from the bottom of the pile, his hand going for his pocket. Alec removed Magnus’ phone and sat it on the table, and then he checked the other pocket.

He knew he would find it.

He studied the charm in his hands, the corners and some of the details slightly worn. Alec could easily imagine Magnus running his fingers over them.

Alec knew that Magnus carried the charm with him, had occasionally seen a peek of it when Magnus had thought that Alec wasn’t looking. It was something Magnus hadn’t told him, and Alec saw no reason to let his boyfriend know that he knew. But it warmed Alec’s heart to know that his silly little gift meant so much to Magnus, and he loved the idea that whenever Magnus went, he carried a piece of Alec with him.

“What is that?” Izzy asked, reminding Alec of where he was and what had happened.

“It’s a Japanese charm,” Alec explained, showing the item to Izzy. “It’s called Omamori and it’s supposed to bring luck and protection to its owner.”

Luck and protection. Magnus hadn’t had a lot of either recently.

“Did you give it to him?” Izzy asked, guessing right.

“I did,” Alec said, a fond smile taking over his face as he thought back to when he had given it to Magnus. “You should have seen his face. He was so surprised.”

“That was such a thoughtful gift,” Izzy said. “I can see why he carried it with him.”

“Yeah,” Alec said, trailing off as he walked next to Magnus again. He took Magnus’ hand and placed the Omamori onto it, putting the fingers into a loose fist so that it was almost like Magnus was holding it.

Even if the charm had run out of protection and luck, it was still clearly something that brought Magnus comfort. And even thought Magnus wasn’t in a conscious state right now, Alec wanted to hope that maybe Magnus would feel the presence of the charm through his unconsciousness. Alec kissed the back of Magnus’ palm before placing the hand back on the bed.

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do,” Izzy said from behind him. “Don’t worry about the Institute, we’ll keep it running. There are more important things for you to worry about.”

“Thank you Izzy,” Alec said, turning to look at his sister.

Izzy gave him a small smile and replied. “You don’t need to thank me.”  

After that she left, and Alec was alone with Magnus again, waiting.  

There might not have been much he could do, but he could be there for Magnus, whenever he would wake up. Because he was going to wake up, Alec was sure of it. There wasn’t a version of future where Magnus wasn’t alive.

Magnus was his world.  

[hareblazer]

and they cried holy holy holy

its very hard existing in a world that doesnt love you 

fic focused on the affects of the religious south via larrys childhood + internalized homophobia now. tw for religious trauma, homophobia, the q slur, implied child abuse, self harm, implied suicide. separated into 6 parts.

all of these things are pretty normal for the time/context/situation i promise i didnt go ape shit on him ctvgbhn 

im gay. some things were minorly edited because of my own experiences. all conversations are inspired heavily by convos ive had.

ONE

“Thou shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind: it is abomination.” The pastor had told him. “Queers go to hell. It is the will of God.” Larry’s mother elbowed him, a way of saying this included him. “Join me in prayer so the sinners may reach Salvation and Repentance.” He raised his arms, framing the holy cross behind him. “Peace be with you.”

“And also with you.” All stood. Except Larry.

“God is Good.” He said.

“All the time.” All prayed. Except Larry. His father glared at him. He could feel the eyes of everyone around him- even if they weren’t looking- he knew what they thought of him. He wished he was good and pure. He wanted nothing more than to be loved by God like everyone else was. But he was just a sinner. A blemish on the tapestry of God’s vision.

None of that was true, of course, but as an 11 year old in the deep south in 1935- he had no choice but to believe.

“Larry.” His father whispered angrily. “Stand. Up. Now.”

“I don’t wanna.” Larry whispered back. He didn’t. He was tired. Ever since his parents found out about his preference for boys they had woken him up early almost every morning to pray- to be reminded of his damnation- to go to church and be told over and over again he was unnatural. He was so tired.

“Larry. If you don’t stand right now- You’ll be choosing a switch when we get home.”

“I’m tired-” He kicked his feet.

“Lawrence Michael Trainor.” His mother hissed. “You’re embarrassing us.” Larry could hear a waver in her voice.

“-in God’s name, amen.” The pastor finished.

“Amen.”

“You are dismissed.”

“Bless you, father.” someone behind Larry said. He couldn’t see very well through his own tears. He couldn’t help but feel like it was all his fault. Now was, in Larry’s opinion, one of the worst parts of church. His parents beelined to Benjamin Quincy’s- probably to tell them to keep their son away from him. Again. Larry could already hear them berating Ben’s poor father- accusing them of turning their sweet son to the Devil and a path of damnation.

This was almost 90 years ago, but Larry could remember it like it was yesterday. He’d never admit it- but sometimes he still felt like that scared boy praying for a salvation that’ll never come.

Chief had bought him a bible, when he first moved into the manor, thinking it would remind him of home. He didn’t know, of course, the kind of history Larry had with religion- but it was enough to release the spirit on a rampage. Chief thought that was interesting. Larry thought it was a headache- literally and metaphorically. He actually wasn’t sure where it was now, actually. It had disappeared mysteriously years ago- after he had given Rita a vague idea of how his childhood was. He never looked for it.

It wasn’t until the patrol had to go into a church that Larry really thought about this again. Ordinarily he pretends it never happened- that he never had a childhood at all. It was easier than having to face it. He forgot why, exactly, they were there- but-

“Larry?” Cliff turned back, already halfway through the doors. Larry had stopped about ten feet off- Jane near him. “You coming?”

“Ah.” was all he could say in reply. This looked like his old one. His lungs felt like they were full of water. Jane tilted her head at him. She had a reason to hate this place- not to say he probably didn’t have one too- but she had definitely never heard about this before. “I.”

“We have two people against this stuff, now?” Cliff. He meant well, but he was about as sensitive as a brick. “What happened to you?”

Larry said nothing. Jane stepped up. “He doesn’t have to tell you. Just- go without us.” Cliff did the closest thing to a shrug he could do and left. Larry wanted to thank Jane- in his own quiet way- but he was a little overwhelmed for that. God. He could still hear the pastors words stinging his heart. He felt Jane’s eyes on him.

Repent, old sinner. Repent and be redeemed.

“Fuck.” Larry turned and walked away. “Fuck!”

“I guess the church screwed both of us over.” Jane crossed her arms. Larry only sighed.

“It screws everyone over. Whether they realize it or not.”

“Hm.” Jane agreed. “It’s a fucked up institution.” Larry’s chest glowed gently.

“God. I want to go back to the manor.” He placed a hand on his chest, trying to soothe the spirit. “Take a nap.”

“Me too.” Jane leaned against a wall.

They stood in silence, before Larry spoke again.

“The church by my house looked like this. Growing up.” He glanced back at it for a moment. “God. I hated that place.”

Jane watched him for a moment. They were the two most closed off people in the manor- this was literally the most he had ever said about himself to her.

“Boring?”

“I guess.” Larry did not say it was because they hated him. He did not say that the priest told him he deserved damnation. He did not say that he still had nightmares about it. “I was. Not well liked, I guess.”

“Oh.” Jane did not share her own trauma related to it. She couldn’t. She didn’t want to. “Are you still…?”

“God, no. I’m not a fan of- any of it, really. I don’t know.” He tries to tell her without really saying anything at all. “They. Really. Don’t like the kind of person I am. Is all.”

“Me neither.” She nodded. This conversation was so. Fucking. Awkward. But it was still the most they had talked in a long time. “Bad church experiences club.”

Larry chuckled. “Bad church experiences club.” 

TWO 

Larry was in class. Thirteen years old and already fully aware of his fate. Homosexuality is an abomination, he knew. God does not make mistakes, he knew. So why is he cursed with these feelings?

“God created all creatures in the Beginning-” his teacher was explaining in the background. Larry had heard this story a million times- both in and out of church. He was daydreaming about the boy who sat in front of him- he had the bluest eyes, and- no. No. Larry couldn’t think like that. That was a sin. He mentally scolded himself for letting his guard down. He had to have a wife. A family- or suffer for all eternity.

“God is love,” said his teacher.

It doesn’t feel much like love to Larry.

-

He regretted doing this. Larry found himself standing in front of the team- during Cliff’s sudden group therapy session and subsequent freakout.

“Well.” He started, but paused. God. God. God. Why did he think he could do this? Why did he think it would be a good idea to come out? To let the only people he ever felt like he could trust learn his ugly, terrible truth and scorn him just as his own family did?

“I’m-”

“GAY!” Cliff interrupted suddenly. Larry froze. Oh god. Oh god. They knew. They KNEW. How did they know? No. Fuck. He was reading too far into this. Unless he wasn’t. The others protested Cliff’s outburst.

“Okay! I just thought Larry was about to come out- and it would’ve been so healing for him!”

Larry is thankful for the bandages covering his tears.

"I think all I wanted to say was...it gets lonely, not touching anyone for 60 years. the last person I ever touched was John Bowers. I- I loved him. and I drove him away." Larry hoped that was vague enough. God. He could see it now- remembering how his parents reacted when they figured it out for themselves- how the church had reacted- how the other boys had reacted- how he had joined the army in an effort to make himself more masculine, more straight- he couldn’t help but think about all the possible ways he could kill himself right here right now.

“I knew it.” Cliff stood. Larry panicked. “I just want you to know that you’re loved- and accepted-” He hugged Larry, and Larry didn’t know what to do.

He’d never been offered acceptance before. How do you react to that?

“I’m not done.” He snapped. It was the best he knew how to do.

“I’m only sharing this because it’s the thing Mr. Nobody shoved in my face.” A clarification he knew this was immoral. He knew he was wrong. “What’s left, of my face.”

Pause.

“That was a joke. God- these bandages are the death of all nuance.” He failed to lighten the mood. He could feel everyone’s judgement, burning his skin like the fire did so many years ago. “Look. If Mr. Nobody’s goal is to torture me, well- I’ve been doing his work for him. Whipping myself in a- a prison of my own making.” Fuck. That sounded kind of cliche.”And wh- what if I trusted John, what if I’d been more brave- and guess what? I’m sick of it! I’m not just hurting myself- I’m hurting this thing inside of me and it’s hurting me back, endlessly, until there’s so much self-loathing I can barely breathe.” He’s trying so, so hard not to break down. He returns to his spot on the couch and slumps, already tuned out and waiting for his inevitable punishment.

He’s only greeted with Rita’s hand on his back, a small comfort, but a welcome one nonetheless. 

THREE 

The last time Larry was in love was with John. It was, admittedly, most of what he thought about, these days- but it was the only time he could ever exist in peace around another person. Even if John was a little too open for Larry’s comfort, he was comfortable in his own skin during the rare times they could sneak a moment together.

He missed John so, so much. Not only because he loved him- though that was a big part- but because he missed feeling safe. He missed feeling loved. He missed feeling anything at all.

-

“So. You’re gay?” Cliff had asked, one morning.

“Yes.” Larry answered, a little too shortly.

“Aren’t you from- like- the 30s?”

“Yes.” Larry said again, knowing full well what question was going to come next.

“Did your parents-” Cliff paused, trying to find the words. “Take it well? How did you- do that? Back then?”

Larry didn’t answer, at first. He actually had no idea what Cliff was referring to. “What?”

“Y’know- you said you had a boyfriend? John? How did you hide it? Since homosexuality was, like- illegal.”

Larry considers losing it. “They. Did not take it well.” He started, failing to mention how most parents in the day had a habit of ‘beating the queer’ out of their children. “We hid it with difficulty. I mean- we risked getting murdered- or worse, if we were caught.”

“Damn.” Cliff said. “That’s rough.”

“Yeah.” Larry sighed. He hated this conversation so much. “I married a girl I knew right out of high school- that was normal, back then- but I guess I thought if I just forced myself into it I’d turn straight, or something?”

“Did it work?”

“No. I cheated on her for years with other men and ruined my family.”

“Oh.” Cliff feels so awkward. “I mean- I did that too. Cheated on my wife. But I didn’t have a good reason for it. Like you did.”

“Cliff, I didn’t have a good reason. I don’t know what you mean by that.”

“Sure you did! I mean- cheating at all is a dick move, no matter what- but, like, you’re gay. And you got forced to marry a woman so you wouldn’t die.”

“Cliff-”

“And gay marriage is legal now! So- like- it got better! Gay rights!”

“It’s legal?”

“Yeah! In 2015- thought we celebrated it! But then you wouldn’t leave your room because you were sad about something again, and then Jane-”

“It’s legal now.” Larry said again, not listening to anything Cliff was saying. “Holy shit.”

“-Then Hammerhead threw me across a room and Chief had to wire my legs back on.”

“I hated myself so fucking much for- so long-” Larry’s face is unreadable to Cliff. “The number of times I considered killing myself because I thought there was no other option- and it’s been legal for almost five years. And I didn’t know about it.”

“How did you find out you were. You know?” Cliff asked, trying to avoid talking about Larry’s apparent suicidal tendencies.

“What?”

“How did you know you were gay?”

“Oh. I mean- when I was a kid it was pretty watered down- but I never liked the idea of having a wife or a girlfriend like everyone expected me to. In middle school, though? The boy’s locker room was definitely an eye-opener- and in my twenties I-” Larry was not going to finish that sentence. Cliff hadn’t unlocked that part of his backstory yet. “God. I tried to repress it for so long, though. It’s really weird, having other people know.” Larry’s chest glowed gently.

“It’s okay, now. There’s even gay hookup apps, and stuff. I bet Vic could help you set one up.”

Larry shrunk into his coat. He could barely handle seeing a man in shorts, the other day. He really didn’t think he was ready for this. “Cliff. I’m not. I can’t do this.”

“Why not? You’re free to be yourself!”

“Cliff. It’s been ingrained in me since I was a kid that being gay was some- awful, horrible thing. This- acceptance? It’s too new to me. I’m not ready to embrace it. I can’t.” I can’t go to hell, was what Larry was thinking. I can’t do that. “Ninety years of- of repression- and self hatred- and hiding- and all of that, I can’t just- bounce back, Cliff. I need time to think about this.”

“Do that! You can talk to me, if you need to, Larry!”

“Maybe I will.” 

FOUR 

Larry was 16 when he hurt himself for the first time. It wasn’t on purpose- he was trying to whittle a little plane in class when he sliced his thumb- but he never really stopped. He felt like he deserved it- maybe the sins he held would leave his body, dripping like blood down his arms. Or maybe he just wanted to feel something other than shame. Either way- it was the one thing he could feel totally in control of. Something that finally felt justified. Unlike his unwavering attraction toward the other boys in his classes- like the now-constant disdain of his parents- unlike the smile his first kiss gave him before they left each other behind. His parents never actually knew about this habit, but Larry convinced himself they did.He told himself this was what they really wanted- between the constant threats of going to hell, or the reminders he’s ruining their perfect family- maybe they did just want him to hurt. Suicide, back then, was almost unthinkable. Nowadays, Larry considers it often. -

Rita noticed something was- more off than usual. Larry had always been a melancholic person, but even Cliff had realized Larry not leaving his room for three days wasn’t normal. She eventually took it upon herself to drag him out of whatever slump he had gotten himself into, again- whether he liked it or not.

“Larry?” She called through his doors. Sound didn’t travel well through all that- but she was very good at being heard when she wanted to be. “Larry!”

Larry did not answer. He was bandaged, luckily, as he knew Rita would inevitably come storming in, but he didn’t want her to see the blood seeping through. He had relapsed, again, though he had nobody left to report it to with the Chief gone. That was for the best, he thought. “LARRY!” Rita knocked on the door. “I’m coming in there!”

Larry groaned. He wasn’t sure why he wasn’t stopping her. He could easily just say it would be too dangerous, or-

He could hear the decontamination chamber hiss. Fuck. He had to clean himself up fast.

“Can you- wait just a-” Too late. Rita entered, concerned. “Fuck.”

“Ah.’ Rita started, but paused, seeing Larry’s red bandages. “Larry. What were you doing in here?” Larry kicked the pocketknife he dropped under his dresser.

“Nothing.”

“Larry. You’re a terrible liar and I just watched you hide something. What did you do?”

Larry shifted his weight nervously. Everyone else he was positive wouldn’t care too much about this- though, of course, that wasn’t even remotely true- but Rita?

“I.” Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. How is he supposed to tell her he was just cutting up his own arms in an attempt to feel better about himself? To punish himself for being gay? How do you say that casually? “I was.”

“You were?” In truth, Rita already had an idea what he was doing. She just needed him to admit he needed help.

Larry avoided eye contact, though that was invisible to Rita through his goggles. “I was. Dealing with. Things.” He can feel the dams breaking. He really, really does not want to cry to Rita right now.

“Dealing with what?” Come on, Larry.

“Shit.” was all he could get out before he started sobbing. Rita sighed and put her hand on his back, like she always did when he has a hard time. This was not the first time she’s seen him at his lowest, and she knew it wouldn’t be her last. It used to be a mystery to her- she always knew he was hiding something important about himself, but what it was, exactly, she couldn’t guess. Now that he came out, though, she had a whole new perspective on it all.

This explained a lot, actually. She had thrown away the bible Chief had gifted him, because she knew he did not like the church, though she didn’t understand why until now. He had always avoided talking about relationships at all, and would shut down when asked about his past. Larry didn’t know that she knew about the times he would hobble gingerly toward Chief’s lab, blood dripping from his limbs and the burden of being a sinner on his mind. Larry was especially bitter toward the spirit, after those nights. Now Rita knew how he was so sure it won’t let him die.

“It’s okay, Larry.” was all she could think to say. “You’re safe, now.” He couldn’t answer past pulling her into a hug. Rita was pretty sure he was getting blood on her dress- but she didn’t mind. “I’d offer to patch you up, but I think you have enough bandages.”

Larry couldn’t help but laugh slightly at that. “God, Rita. I’m sorry. I hate to involve you in my own shit-”

“Larry. You’re my best friend and I care about you, even if you don’t care about you.”

“I know. I just- I should be over this already. I haven’t been to church in over sixty years- my parents have been dead for seventy- John’s already moved on- I just- goddammit, Rita. I’m lonely.” He pulls away to sit on his bed, head in his hands. “I haven’t touched another man in- god knows how long- and all I can think about is how wanting to is in itself a fucking abomination-”

“No.” Rita interrupted. “I’m not allowing that kind of negativity! It is not an abomination and you know it.” Larry only looked at her. “Now continue.”

“Uh. Okay. I miss- god, it sounds so stupid, but- I really miss-” He struggles to find the words. “Kissing men?”

Rita only nodded.

“I didn’t have the chance to- very often- but- god, Rita. There was this club- near one of my posts at the military. Before I met John. It wasn’t officially anything, but it was already a pretty established gay club. But, you know- it was more of a secret.”

“There was one of those near my apartment, you know.” Larry nodded.

“They were usually old speakeasies. But there was this man there- he was- he was really something, Rita. He was a regular, I think. Really tall.” Larry sighed wistfully. Rita smiled at him. She liked seeing him like that. Happy- or at least as close to happiness as she’d seen him get. “We spent… a lot of time together. Mostly in motel rooms.”

“What was his name?”

“I don’t remember. It was so long ago. I miss him anyway, though. Even if it was just a fling.”

“I understand.” Rita said, simply. “Have you considered- getting out there, again?”

“What, like dating? Cliff suggested it to me, but- I thought he was too enthusiastic about it. I don’t know.” It scared him, to be honest.

“I’m sure there are other gay metahumans.” Rita assured him. “With a tolerance for radiation.”

“It’s not them I’m worried about.”

“What, then?”

“How can someone love me when I can’t?” Larry was emotionless through the bandages, but Rita thought she could hear a frown. “I hate myself so. Fucking. Much, Rita. I can’t kill myself no matter how much I try- but what good is someone who’s only alive because something else is forcing them to be? Who would want that kind of baggage, Rita? Not even the fucking spirit can handle it, and it’s the thing keeping me this way.” His chest glowed.

“The first step is realizing you have a problem.”

“I realize I have a problem, Rita. I realized it when I was seven years old, thinking about some boy in my math class. I realized it every-goddamn-day when my own mother would cry and tell me she wished I’d never been born- that no matter what I did she would always love God more than me.” His voice wavered. “I realized it in church, and in school, and at home- every time the newspapers would come in with more horror stories about gay men found dead- every time a kid got the shit beat out of him by his own parents. It’s nobody’s fault but my own, Rita.” He huffed, and Rita faltered. She had never seen this from him before. “God-fucking-dammit! If I could’ve just been a normal person- for once in my goddamn life- god. Oh my god.” He stopped.

“Larry?”

“I fucking died, didn’t I?” He stood suddenly. “I died in that fucking plane crash and this is hell. I can’t die. I can’t touch anyone. I’m stuck wallowing in my own self-loathing like a fucking-”

“Larry.” Rita said again, firmly.

“And I deserve all of it! I destroyed everyone I ever loved! Just because I’m not attracted to women? Big fucking deal! I should’ve just sucked it up. I’m a fucking coward! I should’ve killed myself when I was twenty like I planned! But no. I was too scared. Fuck this! I-”

“Larry!” Rita half-yelled, stopping Larry mid sentence. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you are not helping yourself. Stop having a pity-party and listen to me.”

Larry didn’t answer. He was breathing shakily. Rita could tell he was likely crying under there again.

“There’s nothing wrong with you. Nothing!” She held up her hands. “I’m sorry you were told there was, but they were blatantly wrong. All of them. Liars.” She paused to watch him. He was standing as still as a statue, watching her silently. She hoped that meant he was listening. “I know it’s been ingrained into you. But you need to leave it behind. Stop dragging it with you. It will only hurt more. You’re accepted here, Larry. Nobody would even consider hurting you over something as simple as your sexuality. You don’t need to carry that weight anymore.”

Larry sighed. “I’m sorry, Rita. I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

“It’s okay, Larry. I can’t imagine what you could be going through- but I offer my support, nonetheless.”

“I.” He paused. “Thank you.” 

FIVE 

When Larry was in the ant farm, he did not fear the torture. He knew he had it coming, anyway. It was God’s Will.

“You transferred a lot, Larry.” Forsythe would say, through the glass. “You were running from something. I intend to find out what.”

“I wasn’t running from anything.” Larry would say, over and over again.

The truth was Larry was running. Every time he thought his secret would be compromised he ran. Every time a fling ended or a boyfriend left or any of his army friends even joked about him being gay- he ran.

Now he faced the consequences for his actions, and he understood.

-

“Larry.” Chief said, bringing him back to attention. “What’s troubling you?”

This was before it all went downhill. Before Larry would come out. Before Mr. Nobody would remind him of every mistake he’d ever made. Before everything.

“Nothing. Just- remembering, is all.” Larry answered, quietly. “Before the accident.”

“Before the accident?” Chief knew it wasn’t really an accident. Larry did not. “Are you ready to talk about it?”

“No.” Larry said, quickly. Chief already knew there was something about him and John. He couldn’t risk him figuring that out. “No. The past is- it’s already happened. It doesn't matter.”

“Oh, but it does, Larry.” Chief answered, in his usual way. “The past may not define us as much as the future, but it still needs to be learned from.” Larry sighed. He had heard this so many times.

“I did learn from it, Chief.” He learned very, very well. “It just sucks.”

“Is this about your friendship with John?” Larry froze. “I know you two were very… close.”

“We weren’t. I don’t want to talk about him.” He shrunk into his coat. Chief raised an eyebrow.

“You never want to talk about him, Larry. It’s not healthy.”

“It doesn’t matter. He’s probably dead, now.”

“Do you miss him?” Chief tilted his head. He knew there had to be a way to get through Larry’s shell. If he was to be a hero, like Niles intended, he had to face this head-on.

Larry took a moment before answering, assessing the risks. Was it too obvious to say yes? “...I do.” He paused. “A. Bit.”

Chief nodded. He was getting closer. “Quite a bit, you would say?”

It was Larry’s turn to nod, adrenaline flaring up hot in his chest. “We were friends. That’s it.”

“I wasn’t implying anything else.” Larry breathed in slightly. Chief could tell he was getting anxious. “Though- we both know- you two were… a bit more than friends, yes?”

“No. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t want to do this anymore.” Larry glanced around, starting to panic. “Whoever told you that, Chief- I- it’s not true. I didn’t even like him!” That was a bold lie. “I mean- if anybody was cheating- I mean- Sheryl and I were strained by the end of it-” He’s grasping for straws.

“Larry. We both know Sheryl was-” Chief was interrupted by a flash of light and Larry’s head slamming on the table. The spirit stood through the table, eyeing Chief down. He couldn’t tell how it was feeling- but judging from how agitated Larry had been beforehand, he didn’t think it was happy with him. No matter.

“There you are.” He started, but the spirit shook its head. “No? You don’t want to talk to me?” It shook its head again and held up a hand. “Oh. Who taught you the middle finger?” It tilted its head. Chief could feel it glaring daggers at him. “I’m sorry I hurt you. It’s important that Captain Trainor learn to-” The spirit had enough of that. It flew in a small circle around Chief, shorting out the lone light in the room. A threat. It knew Chief knew what it was capable of.

Larry awoke suddenly to Chief watching him. He must’ve needed the spirit for something- he doesn’t really know about John. He sighed, instinctively rubbing his goggles.

“That was… unintentional. I apologize, Larry.” Larry looked at him. What the fuck was he after? “Now- John-”

“No. Fuck, Niles. I’m not doing this.” Larry stood. “I’m not reliving my mistakes for you. I’m going to take a nap.”

“Larry. We both know it wasn’t a mistake.” Chief held out his hands. “You cheated on your wife. You hid. Why?”

“I did not cheat on Sheryl. I did not hide. Niles. I don’t know what you want from me, but I’m not going to-” He paused. “I’m not going to do this. I cared about her.” That, at least, was not a lie. “I loved her.” That was. “It’s over, now. I’m paying for what I did- who I was. Just- let that be.”

“Who were you, though?”

“I was a sinner, Chief.” Larry left. 

SIX x3 

“Sheryl.” Larry had said, so long ago. She looked over, glowing in the moon, her hair slightly in her face. He felt no attraction whatsoever for her. He tried to force himself to, anyway. It was sinful. He had to do this.

“I have something to tell you.”

“Yeah?” She smiled. She was his friend. He chose her only because she was the only girl he felt he could at least live with.

God. He felt sick. He knew this would hurt her, too. He didn’t want this.

“I love you.” Lying is a sin, too. A lesser of two evils, he had decided. Anything to avoid burning in hell. Anything. Just like his parents had told him. Just like the ministers said.

“Larry!” She had laughed. He felt like throwing up.

Outwardly, Larry had been untouched. Untainted by tragedy and self-hatred. Inwardly, he had become a flaming wreck long before that crash.

-

“Vic.” Larry stood in the doorway, nervously. “Hey.”

“Hey, Larry.” Vic turned to give him a wave. “What’s up?”

“Well. I. Uh.” Larry paused. This was terrifying. “You know- computers and stuff, right?”

“Uh- yeah! What do you need?” Vic looks at him for a moment. He really didn’t mind helping everyone with modern technology! He just never really realized how old everyone was until he was explaining to Larry how color TVs worked- or that cocaine was not a viable medicine anymore to Rita.

“I. Want to meet people.” He held up his phone. “I don’t. Know how.”

“Oh. Where did you get that phone?”

“Rita said I could borrow it.”

“...Okay. What do you want me to do?” Vic hasn’t dated since he was in high school. What was Larry expecting from him?

“Cliff said there are apps for it. For men. Meeting. Other. Men.” Larry is gritting his teeth. “You know computers. I want to. Download one.”

“Oh. Oh! I can help you with that. To an extent.” Vic clarified. “I’ll only help you set up and show you how to use it- the chatting is up to you.”

“Okay.” Larry handed him the phone.

“What are you after? There’s apps for metahumans, and gay people- I’m pretty sure there’s one for veterans-”

“Well. I guess I’d need. The metahuman one. Since they’d need. Some kind of.” He held up his hands. “Immunity.”

“Right.” Vic did not like that implication. “Does Rita know you want to hook up with guys through her phone?”

“Yes. She helped me prepare for this conversation.” Larry shuffled his feet nervously. “It. Did not work. Still awkward.”

“You two are close. Okay- so I downloaded an app called Metameet- it’s mainly for metahumans but there’s an option for gay members. You’re- what, 95? So I already set your username as larrytrainor. That’s usually what- people around your age do.”

“I’m 92. Though the accident was when I was 30-something.”

“Okay. I’ll put that as your age. And. Probably mention that you’re immortal.”

“No. Wait.” Larry put his hand on Vic’s shoulder. “Don’t put that I’m gay. Please.”

“Larry, it’ll say you’re a man seeking a man either way.”

“I know. I just- I can’t be gay. I can’t.” He nearly gagged on the word both times. Vic only looked at him.

“...Okay.” He hit the backspace button. “What’s your problem with it?”

Larry froze. Over the past month he’s had to explain this- five times? “Uh. I.” Fuck. Fuck! He doesn’t deserve this. “It’s just not allowed. I’m not- I’m not supposed to be- into men.”

“You know that’s not true, right?” Vic gave him a confused look. “You… are allowed to be gay, Larry.”

“It’s not like that. I-” He breathed in. “I guess you’re a little too young to really get it.”

“Try me.”

“In the 30s and 40s when I was a kid- it wasn’t- legal. To like. Others. Of the same sex.”

“Yeah?”

“Everyone was really religious, too. So. As hard as I tried to hide it- my parents eventually figured it out. I was 11. After that it just-” He paused. Vic nodded.

“Oh. We learned about that in history in high school.”

“Yeah. It was pretty common for parents to try and beat it out of us.” He paused. “Didn’t work.”

“I’m sorry about that.” Vic started-

“It’s fine. It doesn’t matter, now.”

“Okay.” A pause. “I’m going to put ‘radiation immunity’ as a must.”

“That’s a good idea.” Another pause.

“Can I ask…?”

“Ask what?”

“How did you meet him?”

Larry went silent for a minute, and Vic was scared he made him sad again, somehow.

“We were in the same squadron.” He started slowly, remembering. “He wasn’t my first, honestly- but he was the- he was the one I really loved. I- honestly? If it wasn’t- literally illegal- and I was already married- I probably would have-” He stopped. He never said that out loud.

“That’s. That’s rough, Larry.” He stopped to think. “You can do that now, you know.”

“Yeah. I think- I think that’s why I’m doing this.” A pause.

“I think I’m ready to live the way I always wanted to.”