#and you certainly have to stop saying horror authors have done bad things just cause of what they write

[talesfromthecrypts]

“This horror book is problematic” “horror movie has a problematic scene” this cannot be how we talk about horror I refuse to let people have this be how horror is talked about

Ask yourself some questions: Is the scene/relationship/theme supposed to be horrifying? Where does the horror come from in the story? Who’s point of view is the story from? Is the thing you are vaguely calling “problematic” part of the horror or is it genuinely something that should be critiqued? Why are you personally picking up this horror story? Can you personally handle it if every story isn’t a morality play?

[buck-buck-boose]

I'll Love You 'Til I Die

Masterlist | Playlist

Summary: A Brooklyn schoolgirl fell in love with James Buchanan Barnes at the tender age of nine. With this love she made a vow, promising to love him until her very last breath.

Pairing: Bucky x OFC

Warnings: Language, violence

Word Count: 4.3k

Author's Note: I am... so sorry for taking so long. I was not expecting the start of the semester to be so hectic. I can't promise I'll go back to posting as regularly as during the summer, but I can promise that I'm not disappearing. I promise. I WILL SEE THIS FANFIC THROUGH EVEN IF IT KILLS ME. Thank you for the kind words and support while I've been MIA. Enjoy a chunky chapter.

Chapter Twenty-Four: Little Saint Lottie

October 27, 1943

“I’m worried about her, Betty.”

“I know, Gladys. I know.”

Lottie couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten a full night’s rest. Days seemed to bleed into each other, with no slumber to distinguish today from tomorrow. It wasn’t long after arriving at Azzano that she realized that he wasn’t waiting for her. Bucky was gone. In his place, dozens of men awaited her arrival with sunken eyes and twitching lips that begged for relief, whether it be through a healing touch or a final blow to the head.

When the realization hit Lottie, there wasn’t much she could do besides throwing herself into her work; if she couldn’t help Bucky, the least she could do was help his brothers in arms. Although anxiety ate her up from the inside out, Lottie had confidence in Bucky’s abilities. He wouldn’t let himself die in some POW camp, he just wouldn’t. Because then who would take care of her and Steve? He’d fight tooth and nail to get back to them, she just knew it.

She threw herself into her work, rarely stopping long enough to have a proper conversation or a full meal; this bad habit of hers came to a halt, though, when she came upon a boisterous redhead in need of stitches. Lottie had been deep in thought while examining the gash above his forehead when the soldier cracked a grin and peered up at her without moving his head too much.

“Do I know you from somewhere?”

Lottie shook her head, “I’m afraid not, Private—” she glanced at his dog tags, “—O’Connor.”

“Ever done pinup? Maybe I know you from one of those cheesecakes we’ve got hanging up.” The man— more of a boy really, with his lanky frame and jovial smile —wiggled his eyebrows and ruined her diligent work of cleaning the blood from his wound.

The question left Lottie flustered; the idea of dozens of men gawking at her scantily clad figure left her feeling mortified, “Certainly not! I find that my talents are better suited for healing.”

O’Connor nodded and inspected her face carefully as she went to work on his gash once more. “I’ve got it!” Lottie nearly jumped away from him when he clapped his hands together, “You’re Little Saint Lottie, in the flesh!” The boy crowed his revelation, earning him glares from the other men recovering in the medic tent.

Lottie nearly dropped the needle that she’d been preparing to thread, “Excuse me?”

“Ah, it’s a funny story,” O’Connor chuckled, “Y’see, Sarge had this little photo he’d take everywhere. Always had it in his pocket, tucked in his helmet, you name it. Wouldn’t let the damn thing go. Anyway, we stole it out of his fatigues one day while he was cleaning up in some river ‘cause we wanted to see what the big deal was. Once we saw it was some dame—” Lottie shot him a look, “—lady, we started yanking his chain about it. He was just about as obsessed with that photo as my Ma is with her holy cards, so when he finally told us your name, we dubbed you ‘Little Saint Lottie,’ patron saint of the one hundred and seventh. That kinda pissed him off, but it’s not like you’re his girl, y’know? Though he sure acted like you were.”

Lottie was speechless. About halfway through his story, her mouth had dropped open and her hands had fallen to her lap. Here she was, looking dumb as an ox, while the soldier in front of her chuckled with childish glee.

“Me and the guys would even ask for your intercession whenever the chaplain came by to pray with us. Poor guy had no clue which saint we were talkin’ about. We tried to give it a place of honor in the tent but Sarge made us run laps when he found out we’d nicked it again.”

O’Connor nearly doubled over in laughter as he watched Lottie’s expression grow in horror. “Well as I’m sure Bucky— Sergeant Barnes has told you, I’m no saint. I’m just a nurse. Now hold still, unless you want these stitches to be more painful than they already are.” Before she could stop herself, the question came tumbling out of her mouth, “Speaking of Sergeant Barnes, do you know—” she fumbled with the needle as she made the first stitch, “—is he alright? Did you see him?” The soldier let out a hiss of pain, “Yeah, I got a glimpse of him while they were takin’ him away. He was battered but alright. There’s no man quite like Sarge, I know he’ll be back. He’d fight tooth and nail to get back. That’s what he said at least, ‘cause he always went on and on about how you needed him and all that. He sure talked about you an awful lot for a guy who hasn’t even asked you to go steady.”

Lottie’s breath hitched at the final comment, the mere idea of going steady with Bucky reducing her to a stuttering schoolgirl. She began to tie off his stitches, “We’ve been best friends for over a decade, it’s perfectly normal to care for each other deeply without bringing affection into it.”

O’Connor shrugged, which jostled her arm slightly, “I’ve never heard a guy talk about his best friend like that.”

Lottie didn’t respond. She gave his fully sutured wound one last glance, “Looks like you’re all set. Now don’t do anything stupid to get it infected.”

He gave her a crooked grin and wiggled his eyebrows, Lottie nearly scolded him but held her tongue, “As you wish, Saint Lottie.”

Lottie rolled her eyes and moved along to the next bed, where another soldier waited with a smile just as wide. It seemed that these men had become pleased as punch to know their patroness had come to grace them with her presence.

The USO’s visit to their camp took Lottie completely by surprise. She’d spent so much time floating from one medic tent to the next that she’d ended up completely out of the loop of the camp’s other goings-on. It wasn’t until she saw the fully-erected stage in the middle of camp that she realized. Her heart beat powerfully within her; with Steve here, she would be one step closer to finding Bucky. One step closer to bringing him home. “They say he’s gonna be here in a few hours,” Mary beamed, obviously giddy to see the Star-Spangled Man up close and in the flesh.

Lottie returned her smile, though it was weak. The weariness was starting to catch up to her, making her feel much older than a youthful twenty-three. Her stomach was in knots with anxiety; she needed to get to Steve as soon as possible.

Betty stood with them as they watched the hustle and bustle of preparations, “I’m pretty sure we’re the only ones looking forward to seeing Captain America. All these boys care about is seeing a bunch of girls dancing for them on stage, not some hunk of meat in a red, white, and blue suit.”

Nancy, who had just joined the conversation, scoffed, “It’s quite disappointing how little you think of these men and their patriotism.”

Gladys rolled her eyes, “They’re still men, Nancy. Scantily clad women or a guy singing about war bonds? They’re gonna prefer the women.”

Several hours later, Gladys was indeed proven right. Although he’d been driven off-stage with jeers and taunts, Lottie was waiting for him with a warm embrace.

“Hey, Lottie,” She could hear the smile in his voice, she felt its warm timbre as it surrounded her and reminded her of home.

“Good to see ya, Stevie.”

Steve pulled away from her and gazed around the camp, a grimace growing on his features, “Things don’t look to good around here.”

Lottie nodded, a twin grimace gracing her lips, “The hundred and seventh started out with two hundred men. Now they’ve only got fifty left. They’re barely holding on.”

Steve’s gaze shot to hers the moment she mentioned the one hundred and seventh, “Lottie that’s— this is Bucky’s—” The desperate look in his eyes made her own calm exterior begin to crack.

“Stevie, I know,” she whispered, a lump forming in her throat and tears pricking at her eyes, “I know, and I’m sorry. He’s not here. They— Those bastards took him, damn them!” For the first time since arriving at camp, Lottie cried. She sobbed and clung to Steve once more, feeling every bit like a scared little girl from days gone by.

Steve rested his hand against her back, “I’ll get him out, Lottie. He’s gotta be alive and I’ll get him out.”

She shook her head and wiped the hot tears from her cheeks, “No, Steve. You’re not going alone. I’m coming with you.”

“Lottie, you know I can’t put you in harm’s way like that—”

“Steve. I’m serious. What do you think I was doing that whole time I was with the SSR? Yes, we were making the serum, but they nearly trained us to death. I can shoot, I can use my knife. I can’t let you go without me.” Her voice was starting to crack, “We have to find Bucky together.”

There was silence between the two of them until Steve finally conceded, a wary gaze in his eyes, “Fine. But you need to be by my side the whole time.” Lottie nodded her chest warming with hope. “C’mon, we need to have a conversation with Colonel Philipps.”

The two of them jogged to his tent with their coats held above their heads to shield them from a sudden shower of rain. They entered the colonel’s tent, looking comical with their wet hair and heaving chests. Around them, soldiers and officials paced to and fro, examining maps or signing off various forms. If Lottie squinted, she could just barely make out the words. Letters of condolences; heartbreakingly clinical letters of regret for the losses of these sons, these brothers, these boys.

“Colonel Phillips,” Steve began, “Are you planning a rescue mission? For the surviving prisoners from the Battle of Azzano?”

The colonel looked back at him with a straight face, “Yeah, it’s called winning the war.”

Steve’s blond eyebrows furrowed, “But if you know where they are why not at least—”

“They’re thirty miles behind the lines. Through some of the most heavily fortified territory in Europe. We’d lose more men than we’d save, but I don’t expect you to understand that because you’re a chorus girl,” before Lottie could protest, he shot her a glance as well, “and you’re just a nurse.”

Steve’s gaze on Colonel Phillips was cool, “I think I understand just fine.”

The colonel pushed past them, “Well then understand it somewhere else. Now if I read the posters correctly, you’ve got someplace to be in thirty minutes.”

“Yes sir, I do.”

Steve grabbed Lottie’s hand and pulled her behind him, “C’mon, we’ve gotta get going. You go get changed.”

Lottie nodded; her medical uniform would impede this mission so she’d need to wear the fatigues that the government had finally issued to them. Her heart raced a mile a minute as she scrambled back to the nurse’s tent to change. She knew that Colonel Philipps would be terribly angry once he found out she’d shirked her night duties, but her loyalties to Bucky took precedence. The recovering soldiers were left in the capable hands of her peers. She swore as she nearly toppled over while yanking her boots on; it was rather hard to get dressed in such a hurry. By the time she was ready and had exited the tent, she was met with the somber faces of Agent Carter and Steve.

“Agent Carter, what are you doing?” For a moment, she feared that they’d already been caught, that the SSR was already putting an end to their mission.

The other woman pursed her lips, “I’m here to help.”

A mere half-hour later and they found themselves in the SSR’s plane, headed to Krausberg, where the POW camp was located. Howard Stark called out to them from the cockpit, “We should be able to drop you right at their doorstep.”

Fear was starting to creep into Lottie’s mind and burrowed itself deep within her gut. She heard the conversation continue all around her, but she was still processing the daunting mission before her. She and Steve up against Hydra. All alone. Even Bucky had struggled against them; he’d lost to them in the Battle of Azzano. Bucky. That’s what worried her most. It’s what filled her with the most fear. If she and Steve got through the Hydra camp safe and sound only to find that he was dead, Lottie wasn’t sure how she’d deal with it. She’d probably go mad, in all honesty. She’d end up in some institution, crying over lucky pennies and charcoal drawings while being molly-coddled by some woman in white. How tragic that would be.

Before her thoughts could become any darker, Lottie was jolted back to reality by the sound of bullets against metal. Steve grabbed his shield and her arm, urging her to join him by the plane’s exit.

Agent Carter shot up from her seat, “Get back here! We’re taking you all the way in!”

He turned to respond, “As soon as I’m clear, you turn this thing around and get the hell out of here!” “You can’t give me orders!”

A smile grew on his face, “The hell I can’t! I’m a captain!”

Steve shifted his goggles and nudged Lottie, “It’s go time. When you see me pull the chute out, you do the same.”

Lottie nodded with a quiet determination, and together, they jumped.

Entering the base was painstakingly quiet; once they’d snuck into a truck and eliminated the guards inside, Steve and Lottie were left to mouth words and offer silent support through unwavering gazes. Once they’d safely passed the gate of the base, they exited the truck and swiftly dealt with any opposition.

Steve led her across the base with caution, giving hand signals when it was safe to turn a corner and sprint across a patch of unobstructed space. The two of them traveled with the shadows, avoiding any spotlights that could catch them in the act. Lottie scarcely felt that she could breathe, it was as if one exhale would reveal their presence to the multitude of guards.

Once they entered the main building, the two of them found themselves in what seemed to be a factory. There were giant sheets of metal everywhere and huge bombs seemed to surround them. Amongst them all, Hydra soldiers transported other metal parts and containers of glowing blue material. That did not bode well with Lottie at all.

Lottie spotted some guards walking to a lower level, jangling keys in hand. “Steve, they might be guarding the prisoners.” Her whisper was barely audible, fear keeping her from speaking any louder.

“The blueprints said they were below the manufacturing level. C’mon.”

They followed the guards onto a walkway that had large circular grates that cut into the metal, each forming the ceiling of small cells that the poor prisoners had been separated into. Lottie and Steve knocked the guards out and stole their keys. The two dropped to the same level as the cells and began unlocking their doors.

One of the soldiers gazed at them through the bars of his cell, “Who are you supposed to be?”

Steve panted from stress, “I’m Captain America.” He gave Lottie an expectant look.

“I guess I’m Little Saint Lottie,” she responded somewhat sarcastically, referencing the retrospectively comical nickname that was developed by the one hundred and seventh.

Some of the men cracked grins, “So you’ve heard our prayers, huh?”

“Loud and clear. Now let’s get you out of here, yeah?”

She tried to ignore the growing horror inside of her upon the realization that none of these men had brilliant blue eyes. Not a dimpled chin in sight.

“Is there anybody else? I’m looking for a Sergeant James Barnes.” It seemed that the same horror was growing within Steve.

A man in a scarlet beret responded, his British accent prim and proper, “There’s an isolation ward in the factory, but no one’s ever come back from it.”

“Alright,” Steve nodded, “The tree line is northwest, 80 yards past the gate. Get out fast and give ‘em hell. We’ll meet you guys out in the clearing with anyone else we find.”

“Wait, you know what you’re doing?” “Yeah. I’ve knocked out Adolf Hitler over two hundred times.”

Lottie couldn’t help but stare at Steve in amazement. Gone was that awkward boy from Brooklyn. He was a man now, a leader who could do anything he put his mind to. He’d grown so much, not just physically, but in his character.

While the prisoners worked their way out of the base, Steve and Lottie began their search for the isolation wards. Lottie tried to ignore the sounds of explosions and men crying out from below them while they traveled across metal catwalks. She could only hope that the cries of pain were coming from Hydra soldiers.

After turning several corners, they found themselves in an old hallway, surrounded by brick on both sides. They hurried down the corridor out of desperation; they knew they were running out of time. Lottie stopped suddenly when she heard a groan. It was close. She drew her weapon and dragged Steve into the room, her heart stuttering and her palms slick with sweat.

“Sergeant. Three-two-five-five-seven…” That voice. Oh, how she knew that voice; she loved it so. Lottie heard it whenever she found the time to fall asleep. It crept into her sweetest dreams but tore her apart whenever it wiggled its way into her nightmares.

Bucky lay in front of them, strapped down to a table; his lips moved ever so slightly as he repeated the same phrase over and over again.

She rushed to his side alongside Steve and nearly let out a cry of happiness. Had the situation not been so dire, she would’ve descended upon him with a bone-crushing embrace and great big sobs of joy by that point.

Lottie whispered a quiet, “Bucky?” His eyes were glazed over and his mouth agape, “Is that— is that—”

“It’s us, Buck,” Steve nodded reassuringly as he tore at the straps across Bucky’s chest. Bucky looked up at him, taking his face in,

“Us?”

“Me and Lottie,” he nodded, tugging her closer so that the two of them could be in Bucky’s field of vision.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked at him, finally feeling whole again. She’d gotten her Brooklyn boys back. Bucky only looked back in confusion, “Little Lottie, she— she’s always been here. Always. Stayed with me the whole time.”

It was Lottie and Steve’s turn for confusion. Lottie brushed the hair back from his forehead to calm him down and ground him, “Bucky, I’ve been with the SSR this whole time. We’re here to rescue you.”

Steve nodded and dragged him off the table, “I thought you were dead.”

Bucky was obviously having a hard time processing everything that was happening, “I thought you were smaller.”

Lottie listened as the gunfire intensified, “Come on, we need to move.” Steve threw one of Bucky’s arms over his shoulder and the two fell into step behind her.

“What happened to you?” Bucky grunted out, pain etched into his voice.

“I joined the army.”

“Did it hurt?”

Steve was growing agitated, “A little.”

“Is it permanent?”

“So far.” Lottie huffed, “I’d sure hope so after all that effort I put into it.”

Bucky mustered out a befuddled, “Huh?”

“I helped to create the serum that made him like that.”

“So that’s why you left without saying a word.” Bucky’s tone was only slightly accusatory.

Lottie muttered a weak “Yeah.” They’d need to have a lengthier conversation once he wasn’t struggling to walk five yards.

As they crossed the catwalks to get towards the exit, the factory below them began to combust. Huge flames erupted from the metal contraptions and triggered explosions all around them. They hastily climbed the metal stairs to get to higher ground.

“Captain America, how exciting!” A thick German accent cut through the noise of explosions and gunfire. “I am a great fan of your films!” Before them stood two men; one was a short little fellow clad in a jacket and fedora. The other was tall and wore a distinguished Hydra uniform with its menacing crest emblazoned on his shoulder.

The taller of the two gave Captain America a once over as he strode across the catwalk that separated them, “So, Dr. Erskine managed it after all. Not exactly an improvement, but still, impressive.”

“You’ve got no idea,” Steve snarled and punched the man in the face. The swift blow caused a blotch of redness to appear near his eye and a sinking feeling of realization settled into Lottie’s stomach. This was Schmidt, the monster who used the serum prototype.

Before she could say anything, Schmidt struck back and left a dent in Steve’s shield, “Haven’t I?”

There was a brief scuffle before Schmidt backed off while the other man pulled a lever, pulling the catwalk apart. With a grin, Schmidt began pulling at the skin of his face and revealed fiery red muscle and tissue beneath, just as Lottie had seen when she first began experimenting with the formula. “You are deluded, Captain. You pretend to be a simple soldier, but in reality, you are just afraid to admit that we have left humanity behind. Unlike you, I embrace it proudly. Without fear!”

“Then how come you’re running?”

Steve never got an answer. Schmidt and the other man had already boarded an elevator and left them standing on the catwalk, nearly helpless.

Another explosion went off, cueing the trio to leave, “C’mon, let’s go. Up.” Lottie instructed the men to follow her, though she wasn’t too sure how to escape the factory. All she knew was that they needed to keep ascending the stairs.

When they reached the top of the stairs, they were faced with a metal beam that led to a catwalk with an exit. It was terrifyingly slim, with only enough room to place one foot in front of the other.

“Ladies first,” Bucky murmured, “but I’ll be right behind you.” Lottie felt sure of herself knowing that at least she wouldn’t have to cross on her own.

She took a tentative first step, testing how well it would hold her weight. Lottie tried not to look down at the fiery pit below while she carefully moved along the beam. It was a comfort to have Bucky behind her with his chest nearly pressed against her back as he followed her every step. Lottie had just scrambled over the railing of the catwalk when a jarring explosion shifted the beam’s position and sent it careening downwards. She gasped in horror as Bucky leaped to grab onto the catwalk.

“There’s gotta be a rope or something!”

Steve stared at the two of them from across the pit, “Just go! Get out of here!”

Bucky slammed his fist on the railing, desperation tearing at his voice, “No, not without you!”

“Steve, please! We can’t just leave you here!” Lottie pleaded. Steve couldn’t die, not like this.

With a look of determination, Steve backed up and made a running jump to clear the gap between the two catwalks. An explosion threatened to swallow him up, but he made it over safely, although a little worse for wear.

Lottie and Bucky could only stare in amazement. Steve nodded to them both, “Let’s get outta here.”

Several ladders and a whole lot of dodging later, the trio found themselves trudging towards the tree line.

It was silent amongst the three of them; painfully, dreadfully silent. She decided it was time to break the silence, “Bucky, I—”

“Look, Little Lottie, I know you’re sorry, alright? And I forgive you. Even though you lied to my face and left without saying goodbye, I had a whole lotta time to spend forgiving you.”

Now that the fear of being caught by Hydra soldiers had fully subsided, Lottie allowed herself to let out a sob of joy and nearly threw herself at Bucky. She almost apologized for the force of her embrace since it was likely to hurt a man who’d been captured by Hydra, but he didn’t show any sign of pain. She’d need to remember that for later.

“I missed you so much, Bucky. I really did,” Lottie nearly whimpered. Gosh, she sure sounded lovesick. “I missed you too, Little Lottie.” His embrace was sure and strong, and with it, a flood of memories came back to her. Nights on her fire escape. A birthday evening spent swing dancing. A lucky penny slipped into her hand. For the first time in months, Lottie finally felt whole. Her heart that had been splintered into shards of pain and hopelessness had finally begun to mend itself back together. While she found comfort in his arms and forgiveness, she knew there were still so many words left unsaid; words that he needed and deserved to hear.

“Yeah, I missed you guys too,” Steve muttered, obviously peeved that he was being left out of their moment.

“Aw, come on, Stevie,” Lottie grinned and pulled away from Bucky a little to allow Steve to join their hug.

“And if I remember correctly, Bucky, I think it’s actually Little Saint Lottie now,” she grinned. While she couldn’t see his face at the moment, she just knew it was turning a gorgeous shade of scarlet, based on the sputtering coming out of his mouth.

[faelapis]

what i mean when i say i like jasper’s ending a Lot in terms of “what the character needs”, rather than what the audience needs, is that the transition from “fragments”, to “homeworld bound”, to finally “the future” shows, albeit quickly, a pretty interesting commentary on “want vs need”.

“want vs need” is a pretty basic storytelling concept of, basically, writing flawed characters who have some growing to do as people. they “want” one thing, but they actually “need” another thing.

so let’s talk about jasper’s “want” vs “need”.

cont: but you are not my diamond. if you think you’re hard enough to tell me what to do, fight me and prove it.

she makes her “want” clear in every episode she’s in SU future - which is that she wants to subjugate herself to a diamond, because that’s the only worthwhile purpose in life she’s known.

but we, and steven, don’t actually want that to happen. we know it’s not good for her health. we’ve seen that it’s not, both because hierarchies like those are toxic and because we’ve been shown, specifically for jasper, that it causes her to self-destruct over and over again.

so when it does happen, it’s very fitting that it’s in the worst circumstances possible. she begged for steven to fight her with all his might, over and over again, so he could prove himself a worthy diamond - to the point where he ends up shattering her. and when she’s brought back to life, she’s not even mad at him. he’s proven himself a “worthy” superior.

so we’ve been shown very clearly that jasper’s want is pretty, well, unhealthy for her. she would literally die for it, and get nothing in return except unhealthy, oppressive structures around her. getting everything she wants, at long last, fills her with a kind of void and fragile happiness... which only lasts so long as steven embraces his role as diamond and stays with her. 

hence we, and steven, only see her act at peace with her circumstances without complaint for a couple minutes, and it always (both in fragments and homeworld bound) ends in her own heartbreak. that’s the fragility of her “want”.

basically, it’s bad because, albeit she would know what to do with these structures... it would be at the expense of her own agency, character growth and health. it would always end badly for her.

this is a good time to point out the parallels to steven in “mr universe”.

much like jasper, steven doesn’t care if the structures around greg were cruel or oppressive. he never looks closely enough to notice how much greg hated his life. he just wants things he sees as “normal”. he wants guidance, certainty and authority figures to tell him what he’s “supposed” to do in life.

so. how is jasper’s “want” inverted?

much like rose would eventually do with pearl, the unhealthy attachment is cut by giving your subject a very bitter pill - disappearing from their life. by leaving them behind, you’re essentially forcing them to grow.

that’s NOT the main / only reason rose has steven, or steven eventually leaving beach city... but both serve the purpose of making someone who idolized you “deal with” your absence. and that’s certainly at least a part of their intention - rose thought of herself as stuck and likely holding pearl back. steven is horrified by the diamond role and wants jasper to do “something better”.

and that leads us to jasper’s “need” - to be free from these oppressive authority structures and find her own path in life. this would both improve her health & happiness, as well as making her stop engaging in unhealthy behavior towards herself and others.

now. is she fully “there” yet? no. 

but i think that as much as her trying to persuade steven to take her with him into the great unknown mirrors pearl - ie “i should be fighting for you, because you’re too important”, her reaction to steven’s reassurance that he will be fine shows that she’s already done more growing than pearl had at that point.

she’s likely been taking classes at little homeworld (where she was confirmed to currently live, NOT just visit to say goodbye to steven) for the preceding months between “i am my monster” and “the future”. she’s somewhere near accepting that her diamond doesn’t need protection. it’s also likely something she started thinking after “fragments” - if your diamond is truly so wonderfully powerful... why would they need your protection? what is your “purpose”? steven defeating her + leaving without her in “homeworld bound” both lead her to the same conclusion - she can’t fail or succeed in protecting him, because he doesn’t need her to.

thus, her role isn’t warranted.

“i can protect myself”. “i know... farewell, my diamond”.

it’s pretty significant to me that at the end of their little scene, steven doesn’t run away or give jasper any orders to stop following him. SHE leaves, albeit sadly, because she agrees with him. he can take care of himself.

jasper’s still framing steven as a diamond / superior, but... i think a big point here is that she’s someone who was so firmly stuck at the bottom of a pit of self-hatred, isolation and meaninglessness that she couldn’t unstuck herself - not without being pushed to do so. which ended up also being true for steven.

that’s the irony of the double-edged sword of her “want” - in a way, she’s right about one thing. she can’t just magically get better on her own.

i think the episode “guidance” illustrates an interesting balance between steven and amethyst’s philosophies - amethyst would rather gems do whatever, even if they end up slipping back into their old patterns. steven would rather guide them towards challenging themselves, even if that means dismissing their autonomy.

jasper... kinda gets both? her “want” and “need” play into each other in interesting ways. i’ve been framing her want as a negative a lot, but it does have an interesting silver lining - she had to get what she wanted (to be defeated, to be given a diamond), to be pushed to what she needed.

and in turn, steven needed to listen to and adapt to HER, in order to help her. only after doing that, after being pushed by jasper in turn and truly giving her what she wants, even if it tears you apart mentally... would she ever listen to you. as steven is probably used to by now.

and despite the tragedy of it, i think that’s... kind of an okay thing to show? because not everyone will seek help on their own. it’s not the uplifting message of “anyone who needs help will eventually realize it entirely on their own”, but it IS the hopeful message of “even people who refuse help, deserve help”. 

there’s horror in steven ultimately adapting to jasper’s desires, because it shows them both the fragility of their wants - for steven, being able to control jasper was a horrifying consequence. he got what he “wanted” in the worst way possible. for jasper, getting what she “wanted” meant being forced to let it (steven) go in favor of staying at little homeworld. 

but honestly... we already knew that jasper would never seek help on her own. she’s too “selfless”, in the toxic sense. purpose matters most.

and she’s not alone in that.

“pearl took pride in risking her destruction for your mother. she put rose quartz over everything; over logic, over consequence, over her own life.”

pearl taking rose down from that pedestal was a slow, elaborate, exhausting process that took years of actively working on herself. the majority of that work was only done after rose was gone.

jasper’s gonna have all the same tools - a genuine support network, people who are willing to both empathize and teach a better way, distance from her romanticized superior, and her own desire to get better. 

the latter point, at first, because she’s told to. but as we saw in “little homeschool”, leaving her to her own devices without any “worthwhile” path forward wasn’t ideal. her “want”, much like amethyst said... still deserves to be listened to, even if she still thinks like a homeworld gem. 

but the seriousness of such an effort is, as pearl taking care of steven “for rose” and then “for him” and finally growing to do things “for herself” shows, a good avenue for REAL growth. jasper may soon yet grow for her own sake.

and the results... again, pulling pearl as my example, can be remarkable.

as i’ve said before... i am pretty sad we won’t actually get to see more of that. that’s what “the audience” may have felt they needed from jasper. the same way i’m sure rose would find it bittersweet to know how much pearl has grown without her. the same way you’re sad whenever you don’t see a character you love find love and happiness onscreen, even if it’s implied...

but in a show told from steven’s perspective, i think there is some point to that.

i’ve come around to the following: she couldn’t go with him. any forgiving hugs steven & jasper could’ve given each other at this point would’ve been hollow. that power dynamic would’ve been in the way. what they “need” is not each other. they need people who really, truly understand them, and to figure out what they want in their lives when steven doesn’t have someone to save emotionally (jasper), and jasper doesn’t have someone to sacrifice herself for (steven). 

(...and it’s at this point you realize i made you read ALL OF THAT mainly to justify why pearl and jasper’s relationship is gonna be such a central thing in my post-canon fanfic. lol. anyway here’s the link again.)

[nobodyfamousposts]

Miraculous Salt: Bustier

Fair warning: There are some dark and potentially triggering things discussed. Assault, domestic violence, drug use, overdose, and attempted murder are implied if not outright mentioned.

“Today, class, I’ve asked a special guest to come speak to you!” Bustier greeted them all with a smile. She gestured to the woman next to her, a young adult they hadn’t seen before. She seemed a bit nervous awkward, but was dressed professionally and tried to appear confident.

Bustier clasped her hands together.

“Vivienne is a former student of mine from a few years back. She going to talk to us about positive examples and appropriate behavior in the classroom.”

Marinette slumped in her seat, already knowing what this was about and just whom this lecture was meant for. Bustier’s frequent looks at Marinette weren’t even necessary. The fact that several of the other students shot glances back to her made it clear they knew as well.

Apparently Bustier’s lectures to Marinette about the high road and helping her classmates weren’t enough anymore. Now it just felt like she was making a spectacle to prove a point.

The woman, Vivienne, looked to Bustier in confusion.

“I thought I was supposed to give a lecture about preparation for the future?”

“Well certainly.” Bustier agreed, smiling brightly and indulgently. “And about how a good future for everyone can be started by setting an appropriate example in the here and now.”

Several of the students around her nodded. Lila sent a smug look back at her. Marinette merely wanted to crawl under her desk.

The woman stared at Bustier in open-mouthed surprise.

“Are you joking?”

Bustier appeared startled. “I’m sorry?”

“Are you actually joking? Did you mean to tell me you brought me here. All this way. On a weekday. To give a lecture to students about your downright toxic classroom habits?”

Everyone’s eyes widened. Their mouths opened. Because…no one just talked to Bustier like that. She was a teacher! And she was so nice!

Bustier herself was frozen in shock.

“Excuse me?”

“No. No. You’re right. You had me come to give a speech to your class. Fine. I’m going to talk to them.”

She cleared her throat and turned to the class.

“Listen to me. All of you, but especially you in the back because it seems you are Bustier’s target of the year.” She said, looking around to everyone in the class though her eyes remained mostly on Marinette. “You have the right to feel angry when you are wronged. You have the right to be upset when someone hurts you. You have every right to not forgive the one who does it. It is not your fault when someone does wrong. It is not your responsibility for someone else’s choices. You are under NO obligation—ABSOLUTELY NONE to make the person hurting you feel better about it! And at some point, you need to consider what is best for yourself and your life, even if it means cutting people out of it and letting them face the consequences of their actions.”

“What are you doing?” Bustier demanded, outraged.

“Telling them the truth.” Vivienne stated flatly. “It’s the least I could do after what you did to me and my class thanks to your ‘approach’.”

“But you were a great example for your classmates.”

“No, I was their stepping stone and in some cases, their punching bag. And look how well that turned out! I’m STILL in therapy because of you!”

Bustier gaped in horror.

“Yeah, turns out that constantly pushing myself to take on the burden for everyone else’s choices isn’t actually healthy! Either for me OR anyone else.” Vivienne huffed. “And I have you to blame for a huge part of that.”

She pointed at Bustier in outrage.

“Because of you and your lessons, I lost my ability to be assertive. I became passive to the point of being a doormat, and it’s something that STILL affects me today! Because under YOUR guidance, I was taught that other people’s behaviors were MY fault. That if someone was being cruel or hurting me, it was because I wasn’t trying hard enough. That it was MY obligation to make bad people better rather than their own. And that if I tried to speak up for myself, I was the one in the wrong. Especially when you dragged my parents into things and portrayed the entire mess like it was my fault for not being okay with my treatment instead of concern over how I was being treated.”

“Now now, you’re over-exaggerating.” Bustier argued in that annoyingly placating tone.

“You made it MY job to try and better people who didn’t WANT to be better. I was thirteen! I was a student in your care! How was that supposed to be MY job? My only job was supposed to be to learn, and because of you, I’ve learned all the wrong lessons!”

She rubbed her face, frustrated and exasperated and just done with this whole thing.

“I don’t know what’s healthy or not. I don’t know when I’m being selfish or when I’m supposed to let something go. I still freeze up when dealing with people because even years later, I still have your voice ringing in my head about how I need to be ‘the better person’ regardless of whether I actually CAN.”

She stopped and took a breath. Then turned on Bustier, appearing truly angry with the woman.

“You pushed me to the point of self-destruction and said that was love.”

“I’m sorry that you apparently had a rough time of things,” Bustier fumbled. “But I can’t be held responsible for how every student turns out.”

“THEN YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE BECOME A TEACHER!”

Bustier reared back as if struck by a physical blow.

Vivienne breathed deeply, trying to get herself back under control.

“You had a position of power and authority over me. And you used it to push your responsibility on me. To push the responsibility for EVERYONE in that class on me. On top of my own schoolwork. My own issues. My own responsibilities. I had to deal with yours and everyone else’s. Their well being. Their futures. Their selfish little wants and requests I didn’t have time or energy for but was still expected to fulfill. All of that. On me. And now you’ve even gone so far as to bring me here to advocate for you doing the same thing to someone else? And you don’t see anything wrong with that?”

Vivienne gestured to her chest, agitated and hurt and just…finally letting years worth of frustration out.

“Doing what you did? Pushing things the way you did? You put an unreasonable burden on a child. All in the name of being a ‘good example’ for how other people should be. Guess what? The only thing being a ‘good example’ accomplished was showing people what to expect from others rather than anything they should expect from themselves.”

She glared at Bustier.

“I did some reading on psychology after leaving your class. Turns out the thing you missed about modeling is that it’s the ADULTS who are supposed to model for their kids, not other kids under their care and especially NOT the ones being victimized.”

Bustier forced herself to speak. “But…everyone deserves a chance.”

“You have students that struggle. It’s common. They need extra care. That’s understandable.” Vivienne agreed. “The problem is that instead of being the teacher you are supposed to be and giving them that care yourself, you instead push that responsibility on your other students when it should never have been their responsibility in the first place!”

“They can’t change and do better if everyone is expecting them to fail.” Bustier reasoned.

“Maybe so, but they’re certainly not going to change if they don’t see a reason they should. Giving bullies a free pass and then lecturing their victims on ‘being the bigger person’ after they’ve been hurt because of the bullying is NOT going to motivate the bully to change anymore than it’s going to motivate the victims to keep trying! Was it any wonder so many of your students just gave up?”

Bustier’s eyes widened in shock.

“What?”

“Yeah, it turns out that I’m not the only student who left your class with problems down the line. Big surprise, but being reprimanded for feeling hurt and being told that their feelings are less important than those of the ones harming them isn’t exactly motivation to keep going out of their way to do their best. Not in grades, which unsurprisingly fell amongst students in your class by the final year. Not in activities, which—surprise surprise! Your students stopped being invested in because you kept pushing for everyone else to work twice as hard for something that you were letting other students get full advantage of with nowhere near the same effort! Was it any wonder that I was the only one you were able to browbeat into doing anything by the end? It was because everyone else got disillusioned and stopped trying! Because you rewarded the bad students and admonished the good students if they took issue with that. They weren’t blind! They know favoritism when they see it!”

The class was staring. Unsure what to say. Or if they even should speak.

“Oh, and on the subject of favoritism. You surely remember Candace—my bully whose behavior you defended and minimized? Yeah, she’s in jail. Again. For causing a scene in a public setting. Again. And even assaulting police, which is actually a new one for her this time around. But it’s her standard behavior. It’s all she knows how to do. Because you and people like you catered to her tantrums and brattish behavior, gave her whatever she wanted, and admonished anyone who complained about how she treated them.”

“Well…” Bustier simpered. “Treating her cruelly isn’t changing her now, is it?”

“Because she’s an adult used to getting her way!” Vivienne exclaimed. “The time to teach her better was when she was young. It was when she was still a student under YOUR care! Instead, you solidified her into the messed up adult she is today! Speaking of messed up adults, how about dear old Henrik? You remember him?”

“He…he was…a perfect student…” Bustier muttered, uncertain and wary.

“Sure was. Your model student. He sure road your high horse all throughout school and even all the way to his own wedding to Delia—your OTHER favorite student to coddle. You must have been so proud of how that turned out. And even after she’s cheated on him. Among other things. He’d be the picture of domestic violence at this point…you know…if he could actually acknowledge that the relationship is even abusive.”

She sighed.

“But he still insists he can ‘change her’. That he can ‘help her be better’. And some other reasons about ‘make a bad person be good’ that sounds like the sort of tripe you fed him. You know, most of us just thought he was a wannabe stud who like having girls rubbing themselves all over him. It never occurred to us that he was uncomfortable and just didn’t know how to ask them to stop.”

Several of the students gasped in shock. Adrien in particular appeared uncomfortable, like the story was a point for him in particular. Remembering the way Chloe and Lila hung off him, Marinette had to wonder if Adrien and this Henrik didn’t have a few concerning things in common.

Vivienne, however, continued. And even started to tick off on her fingers. “Elodie joined the police force and is so caught up in her own brand of ‘justice’ that she jumps into things without thinking and a number of her arrests ended up going free regardless of the charge due to her not following procedure. Arthur was always the sort to ‘go with the flow’ rather than stand up for anything, so he ‘went with the flow’ all the way to a strip club where he spends his nights, still waiting on some new job opportunity Delia promised him years ago. Kent and Morgan were arrested for embezzlement of some charity’s funds. Michael works at a repair shop, so he has a steady job at least. Sam’s charged for property destruction from illegal street racing. Again. Vincent is claiming some close relationship with Jagged Stone that I don't even want to consider. Randall died from drug overdose last year, otherwise I’m sure you would have called him up instead of me.”

Everyone gaped at her in growing horror. Alya and Max both seemed to be looking at their phones, only to wince or appear more agitated with whatever they found—Marinette assumed it was likely proof of Vivienne’s claims. Bustier looked almost ready to faint at the news of what’s become of her former students.

Vivienne just tapped her chin.

“And you know, now that I think about it, it makes sense that you called me out of everyone to come lecture your class because I think I’m probably the only former student NOT a complete wreck—if only because I’m a few steps away from it thanks to therapy.”

She sneered at Bustier in downright disgust.

“All these people you said it was my job to save. All of them—every single one of them fell apart when I finally gave up. Though they were admittedly barely hanging on as it was while they still had me to dump on. And I’m pretty sure that I could have been a millionaire by now if I’d held firm on charging people for the things they wanted from me instead of bowing to your insistence on doing things for people for free to be ‘nice’. Or, you know…NOT wasting my time and giving up on my own opportunities to pull everyone else out of the fires they kept starting.”

Feeling the weight of everyone’s gazes on her, Bustier spoke up to attempt to defend herself.

“To make a healthy classroom—”

“Your classroom isn’t healthy!” Vivienne shouted. And it was only now that Marinette realized there was a growing number of people hovering outside the door and listening in. “It says something that we have a magical emotion-based terrorist running around and his most frequent targets other than a guy obsessed with pigeons have been your students! Hell, in the past year the majority of akuma attacks have all been from this very class! If i didn’t already know you were doing this all along, I would think you were grooming these kids to be taken by Hawk Moth!"

“They’re not...that bad...” Bustier weakly defended.

“One of your students is the girl who tried to CRASH A TRAIN! And it didn’t take me all of five minutes after entering to see you catering to what can only be a chronic liar.”

Lila immediately started the waterworks. “How could you say that about me?”

“Actually, I hadn’t pointed you out. But thanks for doing it yourself, and while we’re on the subject, GOOGLE. Five minutes is more than enough to debunk your stories. Anyone could do it if they bothered to. Which might have gone a long way in preventing the classroom from becoming toxic, Bustier, if you had helped to develop your students’ critical thinking skills so they could figure things out for themselves instead of demanding they become doormats to make other people ‘feel better’.”

“I—I—” Bustier looked almost ready to cry.

“Couldn’t be bothered to tell them they’re being lied to?” Vivienne asked, sarcastically.

“She has a condition! I didn’t want to impair her ability to make friends!” Bustier exclaimed, making the class stare at her in growing horror. Others turned on Lila in outrage at the confirmation. Lila in turn started to shrink in on herself, realizing that this had not been the best time to draw attention.

“So you protect one student by letting the rest be used and manipulated. It’s not like that can go wrong! Just ask Henrik…as soon as he gets out of the hospital.”

One student—Rose—actually raised her hand. “What…what happened to Henrik?”

“Officially, food poisoning.” Vivienne replied. “Unofficially, Delia only married him because he’s rich and good as arm candy, but she only needs him alive for one of those two things and his moral righteousness makes him less appealing as the latter.”

Bustier wobbled, her strength giving out. She quickly made it to her chair and almost fell onto it as the sheer magnitude of what was happening hit her.

“But…I don’t understand. It can’t be me. I’m…I’m a good teacher…”

“No.” Vivienne interrupted. “You’re a nice teacher. At least to certain students. For everyone else, you taught pretty words and preached about love and kindness to help build up a rose-tinted view of the world and the people in it. It’s no wonder nobody knew how to deal afterwards.”

“But…it can’t be my fault.” She insisted. “I’m only one influence! There are parents! Guardians!”

Yeah, no. Vivienne was not letting her pass the blame.

“Whom YOU spoke with. Whom YOU influenced with your position to put focus on the wrong problems—not what needed to be addressed but what you wanted to make your classroom easier for you. Parents don’t know what their kids are doing during school hours other than what they’re told is happening. And when they’re told that their kid is ‘problematic’ or ‘causing conflict’ or ‘not a team player’ but they’re not being told WHY? Or not being told that their kid is being mistreated, bullied, or outright assaulted? And those parents then turn on the kids?”

She shrugged.

“Honestly, what were we supposed to think?”

Bustier shook her head, now crying.

“I can’t fix everything!”

Vivienne stared, solemnly.

“But you could have helped. You just…choose not to.”

She looked back to the class.

“Don’t trust blindly. Stand up for yourself without pushing on others. Remember that you are allowed to have limits. And sometimes…” Her eyes fell back on Marinette. “Sometimes, it’s better to just cut out the weeds than hope flowers grow.”

With that, she turned and left the classroom, the various students and faculty listening in parting before her.

It was cold outside. Almost matching the feeling in her chest.

And yet, she let out a sigh.

“Now that’s the closure I’ve been looking for.”

And she carried on.

[notchesandbullets]

Saving Her (Ojiro Mashirao x Wolf!Reader)

A/N: dedicated to the anon who wanted me to write a oneshot about ojiro giving the reader a gift, this fanfic is for you 💖💖 this is incredibly self-indulgent and ive been working on it for over a month now. its almost done but i’ll post what i have so far, i hope you like it!!

Contains reluctant Aizawa to soft Dadzawa, annoying brother Shinsou, pure Eri-chan, bakugou's notorious cursing, sweet and innocent fluff between reader-chan and Ojiro. First friend Ojiro to best friend and then lover. Featuring the rest of Class 1-A and them acting like hooligans.

Part 1: Crashing into Ojiro, Room Competition, meeting Class 1-A and Aizawa, who has some bad news for you when you’re discovered.

Word Count: 7k 

The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the busy city of Musutafu.

Ojiro had planned on taking Tokoyami with him, but his friend was still in the middle of unpacking as he was leaving.

He was on the way back to the dorms from the grocery store with a bag of ingredients and sweets as per Sato's request. It was a bit longer of a walking distance since he was so used to coming from his house and would take some getting used to, now that Heights Alliance was his home.

The streets weren't any busier than usual, but when he saw something flicker out of the corner of his eyes off to the side, he couldn't help but feel as though something was wrong.

Maybe it was his hero blood or something stronger but he didn't waste any time diving into action.

As he rounded the corner, his eyes widened as someone crashed into him, nearly toppling him over. He caught his balance just in time, steadying the person that had collided into his chest but not before he saw it.

Blood matting down your hair had his heart dropping in horror. You were trembling in his arms, positively terrified and it didn't take long to figure out what the cause of your stress was when two more figures slinked out of the shadows.

Ojiro acted quickly, using his tail to whisk the two of you higher until you were out of sight. He curled his arms tightly but carefully around your waist, making sure that you wouldn't fall.

Thanks to Ectoplasm's guidance, he had refined his skills and learned how to be unpredictable.

It wasn't until you two were safely on top of the nearest roof did he loosen his grip. Leaning over the edge cautiously, he watched the strangers bolt off in opposite directions, presumably to look for you. He was pretty sure they didn't see him take you away but he wasn't completely certain. Pulling back, he released you from his hold. But he didn't take any offense to the way you practically flew from his touch.

He could see it in your eyes. Fear as deep as yours shouldn't ever be allowed to get that far, for anyone.

You hugged your trembling body with your arms, desperately willing the anxiety to die down so that you could think straight. All you could think about was running. Far, far away where no one could get to you.

"Ah... sorry to take you away so suddenly like that, but it looked like you seemed to be in trouble." Ojiro apologized.

His sheepish tone made you finally break out of your thoughts and for a moment, the two of you didn't say anything, both of you enamored with the other as you got a proper look.

He didn't think he had ever seen anyone as beautiful as you before. Round orbs blinking up at him curiously, your fuzzy ears perched on top of your head perked up as you met his gaze, bushy tail twitching behind you.

As for you, your mouth dried at the sight of your savior. His golden hair and kind smile made your heart skip a beat for reasons unknown to you. You couldn't stop your tail from thumping excitedly against the rooftop when you saw his tail.

It was much bigger and looked much stronger than yours was and you couldn't stop from bounding over to it eagerly, stretching out a tentative hand to touch it.

But you halted at the last second and recoiled, expecting to be punished for your behavior.

Ojiro frowned, taking notice of your trepidation and offered you an encouraging smile. "It's okay, you can touch it if you'd like."

He lifted his tail slightly, inviting your curiosity forth and a bit nervously, you reached out your hand once again. A wide smile split your features as you felt the soft, short fur underneath, your other hand going up to pet your ears, as if to compare the softness.

Ojiro couldn't help but match your smile at that, finding it adorable. Tucking his legs underneath him so that you could still play with his tail, he breached the topic sensitively.

"What's your name?" He asked quietly. "Who were those guys that were after you?"

At first, you seized up and for a minute there, he was worried he went about asking you the wrong way. But a deep sigh left your lungs and testing the waters, you timidly introduced yourself and began to explain in a concise way, your current situation.

You honestly weren't entirely sure how you got there.

But one bad thing after another landed you in a pretty rough neighborhood notorious for Quirk Traffickers. They looked for people with unique abilities that would sell well on the black market. People paid a lot of money to own those they deemed exotic, particularly kids and teens with quirks that had an effect on their physical appearance.

You were no exception, having been cursed with an extremely rare wolf quirk. All it ever brought you was trouble.

You had heard that quirks were hereditary but yours definitely wasn't. You don't know which ancestor it came from when it appeared out of the blue.

Tiny fangs, fluffy ears and a tail emerged one day. But your excitement of discovering it was short-lived when you were abandoned by your parents the very next day. They had found it disgusting.

Young and innocent, you wandered the streets, not sure what you were supposed to do. That's when they caught you.

You bounced from one owner to another, never staying in one place for very long. You had been brought back to their base of operations in Japan, your last master less than satisfied with you since all you did was hide out of fear of everyone, lashing out when he tried to approach you.

You may or may not have bitten a guest when they tried to touch your ears.

Back in your homeland, that's when you saw your opening.

You didn't know what propelled your legs to start running from the men but pretty soon you were out of breath and out of options. Alone in the alleyway, but not for long, you frantically scanned for an escape route.

And that's when you crashed into him.

A shadow fell over Ojiro's face as he heard you explain your past, hands balling into fists at his sides. He wouldn't stand behind while someone was tormenting you. No hero would allow something like this to continue.

Coming to his decision instantly, he stood up, extending a hand out to you.

"Y/N, will you come with me?" He asked, gaze unwavering. "I think I know where you'll be safe, at least for now."

You paused, skeptical. "I-I... I don't know."

He squatted down beside you, patting your head gently. If there was more time, he would've been more patient but he couldn't help but feel uneasy the longer you guys stayed out in the open. Even if you were out of sight, a rooftop wasn't a permanent place for you to hide out in.

Your eyes went wide but you didn't shrink away. You didn't know why. Anytime someone reached for your head, they always had this glint in their eyes, but this time, he looked desperate.

Desperate for you to believe him.

"You must have a hard time trusting people after all you've been through." Ojiro empathized before urgency seeped into his tone. "I really don't want to leave you alone. My sensei might be able to help you but only if you come with me."

You still didn't look entirely convinced but he didn't blame you.

"If you don't like what he says, then you don't have to listen." Ojiro reassured you easily. "No one's going to force you to do anything. You can make your own choice but let me at least give you more options."

That was what finally made you drop your guard, still wary but choosing to trust him for now. After all, he did save you earlier.

You put your hand in his, cheeks warming as he squeezed it slightly.

"Okay."

The two of you traveled to Heights Alliance, the dormitory for Class 1-A of UA High School. He immediately found his teacher, Aizawa, and told him of your circumstances. The man's rough and rugged appearance caused fear to flash through you but only for an instant.

He concealed it well but he seemed kind. Not outwardly like Ojiro, but it was enough to reassure you for now.

All throughout Ojiro's explanation, you hid behind his broad back, shivering at the way his tail curled around your waist to keep you close to him.

It was weird. It didn't feel restricting like you expected it to, it almost felt protective. You kind of liked it. You giggled as the furry tip of his tail tickled your nose playfully and you batted at it, eyes shining as you momentarily forgot where you were.

Aizawa was silent as his student finished explaining why he had a wolf girl attached to his side, scratching the back of his neck as he racked his brain to come up with a solution that wouldn't land you back in that same place again but also without compromising the safety of his students.

Since you were an orphan and a minor, the police would most likely take you to an orphanage, in which case the people looking for you would certainly find you. Aizawa called Principal Nezu and got permission from him to house you at the dorms until the threat hanging over your head was dealt with by the authorities.

You blinked when he asked you if you wanted to stay with them for the time being while they ironed out all the details and see what could be done for a more permanent residence but accepted his offer with a shy and grateful smile.

Then was the matter of actually carrying it out.

The two wanted to settle you in a room of your own but your ears flattened against your head in distress at the suggestion so they quickly dropped that idea.

Aizawa ran a hand tiredly through his hair, unsure of how to resolve this when you clearly were in danger but didn't want to be left alone. The less people that knew of your whereabouts the better and even though he knew Yaoyorozu would probably do a good job looking after you, you clung to Ojiro's side like glue.

You seemed the most comfortable with him and he figured they could use that for now.

Needless to say, Ojiro was surprised when Aizawa suggested he take care of you until the man could figure out a way to accommodate you without you having an anxiety attack but he readily agreed with a slight blush on his face.

He just wanted you to be safe and happy and he was stunned that his sensei trusted him enough to be responsible for you.

Aizawa promptly handed him a small first-aid kit to take care of the blood smeared on your forehead after ensuring that it wasn't anything serious. It was just a slight nick, shallow enough not to need any stitches since it would heal relatively quickly. He told him to clean it before it got infected and his student nodded seriously.

"You can count on me, Aizawa-sensei!!" Ojiro said, bowing respectfully to thank him for all he had done before leaving.

With Ojiro guiding the way, the two of you snuck through the back door and up into his room for you to get settled in. The other students in his class were bustling around the common floor, moving all their things into their respective rooms, hoping to get it done before dark.

It was loud and chaotic, or maybe that was just your sensitive ears picking up on it more. Curiosity peaked, you peeked around the corner after you ensured you were out of their sight, gaze falling on the activity going on below from the second floor.

Ojiro softly pointed each one of them out, telling you their names as they talked over each other.

"I can't believe we get to live together!!" Ashido exclaimed happily, doing a little dance in front of Hagakure and Uraraka. "This is so exciting!!"

"I can't believe my parents agreed to it!!" The invisible girl commented, undoubtedly puffing out her cheeks.

The red-haired and yellow-haired boys who were wrestling in the corner paused for a second to join in on the girls' conversation.

"Did you have a hard time convincing them?" Kirishima asked, only to be smacked upside the head by Kaminari. "Ow, what the heck man?!"

"Why are you asking such a dumb question?" The electric boy retorted, kicking up his feet and smirking. "She could've always just snuck out of the house if they said no. You know, invisibility quirk and all."

He leaped up with a yelp as something shocked him from behind, whirling around to glare at Jirou, who was twirling her earphone jack around a finger nonchalantly.

She sighed, retracting the other one from where she had send an electric pulse through him. "What an idiot."

Kaminari gripped his hair, nearly tearing it out in frustration. "That's what I'm saying!!"

Sero, who was passing by with a box full of his things, stopped and raised an eyebrow. "You know she's talking about you, right?"

"That's not true!!" Kaminari shouted incredulously.

"It's true." Jirou retorted flatly.

The others in the vicinity burst into laughter and you couldn't help but giggle a bit along with them, muffling the sound behind your hand in fear that they would catch you spying on them.

Ojiro's tail twined around your waist gently, steering you towards the elevators. "C'mon, this way."

That contraption alone was the most nerve-wracking thing you've experienced so far. Luckily, the ride wasn't long but that was the only upside. Your tail swished nervously behind you and you didn't relax until the door to his room on the third floor softly clicked closed behind you.

Ojiro breathed a sigh of relief, glancing up at you. You had made it without being spotted by anyone. Thankfully.

He didn't have many things, so moving in wasn't a problem for him and it didn't take too long. He was one of the first ones to finish, along with Shoji, and helped Sato unpack his things until his friend noticed he needed some more ingredients for the cake he wanted to make later on.

The plastic bag crinkled as he took out the snacks he had found while he was getting Sato more flour and sugar. Your nose twitched cutely and he had to refrain from poking your cheek, lest he scare you off.

Your tail was less frazzled now and he took it as a sign that you were getting accustomed to your surroundings.

His eyes softened as you took in his room, pawing at the neat collection of books on his desk before your attention flitted up to the high shelving above your head.

This time, Ojiro couldn't contain his fond smile as he reached over you to grab what you were longingly looking at.

Your eyes went wide as his chest pressed against your back, he easily reached it since he was taller than you. A small giraffe plushie landed in your hands not long after.

He tilted his head, eyes crinkling at the edges as he smiled at you. "Cute, right?"

His little sister, Holly, gave it to him as a going-away present when he moved into the dorms. He missed her so much already but the presence of this little stuffed giraffe soothed his heart.

You held it so gently, as if you were scared you would destroy it.

"Yeah..." You trailed off quietly and he beamed.

It was his first time hearing your voice so unrestrained and free from the fear that gripped you earlier but nothing could have prepared him for how pure and precious it was. He ruffled your hair gently, being mindful of your fluffy ears and looking out for any signs you were uncomfortable with the affectionate gesture.

But his heart skipped a beat when you closed your eyes at his touch, clearly enjoying it and even going so far as to butt your head against his hand in a silent plea for more pets.

You flushed when he chuckled, obliging you for a minute longer until you were like putty in his hands.

The both of you jumped when a loud crash came from downstairs, accompanied by a flurry of enraged shouting and colorful insults even through the many floors. Ojiro casted a worried glance at you but all his concern melted away when a little giggle left your lips.

Relieved that you didn't seem to be too shaken by the noise, he offered the snacks he bought earlier, taking the package and ripping it open for you when you fumbled with it.

Thanking him quietly, you nibbled on the food gratefully. The flavors exploded in your mouth and you positively beamed, radiating the same pure energy you emitted earlier when you had spoken to him.

Ojiro maneuvered around you, finding what he was looking for pretty quickly.

You looked up curiously when he came back, shifting your weight on your knees, unsure of why he was holding a water bottle in your field of vision.

"I need to treat your cut, is that okay?" He asked, unscrewing the cap and pouring a little bit on the cloth he got from the first-aid kit. He didn't want to startle you, so he narrated what he was doing.

You nodded, setting down your half-eaten cookie carefully and brushed back your tangled hair as much as you could so that it wasn't in the way.

Your breath caught in your throat when he moved closer to you. He angled your chin up, gazing into your eyes as he wiped the blood away first to assess the damage done.

"It's going to sting a little bit." He murmured, preparing the antibiotic.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you gripped onto the lapels of his blazer, practically ripping it as your claws came out when he dabbed the cut. You whimpered in pain, tears leaking out of the corner of your eyes at how much it hurt.

Ojiro faltered, your whimper sending a spike straight through his heart and he hastened, not wanting you to be in pain any longer. But he was thorough, well aware that if he didn't do a good job now, there was a chance you would have to endure it again. As soon as he disinfected it, he applied a couple butterfly closures to aid the healing process.

It wasn't bleeding anymore and he sighed in relief.

You panted heavily when he was finally done. Rubbing your eyes furiously, you blinked through your blurry vision, frantically scanning the room as his warmth suddenly disappeared.

"Y/N-chan?"

The voice was close by but not close enough. Your breathing started to pick up, hands clammy and tail fluffed out. An obvious sign you were stressed.

"Y/N-chan!!"

This time, it was a lot closer and you sank back, relieved beyond belief as the familiar sensation of his tail encircling your waist returned.

You stammered out his name, blindly reaching for him.

"Where did you go?" Your whispered, fingers trembling uncontrollably as he pulled you into his chest.

"Just had to put away the bandages." He reassured you, concerned with how quickly you were to losing it. "Are you okay?"

Your ears flopped back and forth at how vigorously you nodded, as if you needed to convince him like your life depended on it and his mouth twisted into a small frown.

"You don't have to do that." He said, going to pet you once more, smiling in relief as your tail finally stopped lashing behind you.

"... 'm sorry." You mumbled sadly, clutching onto the front of his jacket.

"It's okay." Ojiro replied, stroking your hair to calm you down. "You didn't do anything wrong."

Just how much pain had you endured?

This time when he stood up, you were okay. Somehow comforted that he wasn't going to go anywhere anytime soon, you polished off your snack as he got something else from the closet.

"Here."

You perked up at the sight of the blue hoodie in his outstretched hand.

Ojiro laughed at your expression of awe as you accepted it and ran your fingers over the material. "You seemed cold so how about you hang onto this for now?"

It was one of his lounging hoodies that he didn't wear too often but it was rather warm and would hopefully stop you from shivering. That tattered dress you were wearing looked like it was about to go any second. He didn't want to know how weak your immune system was to be freezing cold in the middle of August.

You beamed happily, bowing repeatedly. "Thank you, Ojiro-san!!"

It had gotten stuck over your head when you tried to pull it down though and with a muffled squeak that gained his attention, he tugged down the hem, smiling when your ears and flushed face popped through.

Just when I thought she couldn't get any cuter... He thought to himself as you began to run around the room, climbing on anything and everything once he told you that he didn't mind.

His clothes swallowed your smaller frame and he found it incredibly endearing with the way you would flap your arms around, claiming you had sweater paws. It fell just above your knees, keeping it modest.

He steered you away from the balcony for now, wanting you to stay where he could keep an eye on you.

After a few more hours of you getting adjusted, you had tuckered yourself out and curled up into a ball on the floor at the foot of his bed.

Ojiro frowned once he noticed you taking a nap on the hard surface, abandoning his studying at his desk to take you in his arms and placing you in his bed.

You stirred, heavy eyelids struggling to open as you croaked out, "W-What? Ojiro-san, what's going on??"

"You can't sleep on the floor, Y/N-chan." He chided lightly. "It's not good for your back."

Sleepy haze diminishing, you bolted upright, nearly smacking him in the face when you realized where he had put you.

"I can't sleep in your bed!!" You burst out incredulously.

Ojiro hushed you, worriedly glancing at the door as if his friends would come barging in without any warning but luckily they didn't. He didn't put it past them but this was one time where he didn't want them to do that.

He tried to ease you back down but you wouldn't obey.

"Don't worry, the sheets are new." He reassured.

His eyebrow furrowed when you shook your head violently from side to side, wondering what you were so worked up about. You tried to climb out and he let you but didn't let you go too far.

"What's wrong?" He asked quickly, the possibility that he had offended you coming to light. "I didn't mean to—"

"I'm not allowed to!!" You suddenly blurted out.

He did a double take and you looked over his shoulder, your eyes darting everywhere else besides him.

Crouching down to your level, he soothed you gently. "Hey, it's okay. What do you mean you're not allowed to?"

You absentmindedly picked at the wound closures on your forehead, swallowing thickly when he took your hand in his to prevent you from messing with the bandages.

"Y/N-chan?" He prompted.

Your mutter was so quiet he had to strain himself to hear you right and when he did, he asked you to repeat it because by All Might was his blood boiling if he heard you correctly.

You gulped, intimidated by the brazen anger in his eyes, fiddling with the hem of his hoodie.

"They said we're animals and called us dirty. We're not supposed to sleep where humans do." With each word, you got quieter until his face was right in front of yours. "They were right... weren't they?"

Squeaking as you got engulfed in a hug, you tensed up and he broke it, apologizing profusely.

"I'm sorry, I just," He ran a hand through his hair, conflicted. "They couldn't be more wrong."

He didn't touch you but he didn't need to for you to feel his warm presence extending out towards you and covering you in the most love you've experienced since your parents left.

"You might have an animal quirk but you're human just like the rest of us and don't deserve to be treated any less than that by anyone." He emphasized, then pounded a fist to his chest. "From now on, I'll look out for you and show you what it's like to be treated like an equal, as a friend, if you'll let me."

Ojiro held out his hand. "Deal?"

You sniffled, unbelievably moved by his kindness after only knowing you for less than a day. "Deal."

You sealed it with a handshake and he gestured to the rumpled bed behind him.

Waving his hand grandly, he proclaimed, "Your napping space awaits."

He internally winced at how corny that sounded but hearing your laughter ring in the air more than made up for it. As he helped you settle beneath the covers, he reassured you constantly but patiently that you really were allowed to sleep in a bed and no, you weren't bothering him or being a burden.

After that, you couldn't fall asleep right away and he really didn't want to study anymore so the two of you talked.

He told you about his family, how he got into UA, stuttering nervously a couple of times only to shoot you a grateful smile when you didn't judge or make fun of him. He told you about his little sister, a cute, precious little girl who was growing up faster than he liked to admit. Retelling and entertaining you with stories of his classmates and their adventures, his tail flicked up excitedly when you started to chime in with experiences of your own.

Things you could remember from your past. Foods you liked, hobbies you had, friends you liked to play with, and he listened attentively through it all. When you started to drift off, you sleepily mumbled offhandedly how you liked it when he patted your head or rubbed your ears.

And you especially liked it when he would hug you with his tail.

Ojiro just smiled softly, tucking the blanket around you before brushing the hair away from your face. You looked so peaceful. He got to his feet and stretched his arms over his head, jaw dropping in surprise when his gaze landed on the bag discarded on the floor. He had completely forgotten about that.

Shaking your shoulder to rouse you from your tranquil state, he whispered apologies when you finally opened your eyes.

"I'm so sorry I woke you up but I have to go to Sato-kun's room really quick to give him the flour and sugar I bought earlier, okay?" He rushed out, tripping over his words to get it out faster so that you could go back to sleep.

"Can't I go with you?" You mumbled, still half asleep.

Ojiro shook his head, remembering what Aizawa said about exposure. Sure, he trusted his classmates but there was a big difference between what he wanted and what was logical. Your chances were better off with the less that people knew you of your whereabouts so he refused, even though it nearly broke his heart when you trained your wide orbs on him.

Pushing out your bottom lip slightly, tears collected at the corner of your eyes. "You don't want me there?"

He was quick to kneel down by your side, unable to stop himself from pressing his forehead to your temple in a desperate attempt to make the sadness in your voice fade away.

"No, no, princess, it's not that at all." The pet name slipped out faster than he could stop it but he didn't even stop. "You're safer here for right now. And I'll only be gone for a minute."

He rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb. "Okay?"

You mustered up a wobbly smile for him. "Okay..."

He wanted to text Sato to come to his room to pick it up so that he wouldn't have to leave you but that would stir up questions, especially since he wouldn't allow his friend inside and that would undoubtedly create a mayhem within his peers at what he was hiding. For aspiring heroes, they were still teenagers after all. And they loved to bug each other like it, too.

Ojiro sighed as he forced himself to detach from you, tucking the blanket securely around you before he stepped quietly out the door.

For once in his life, he kind of wished he wasn't living with his classmates.

After he left, you tried to quell the anxiety and insecurities. Twisting and turning, your mind raced, spiraling out of control. He didn't abandon you, he was just returning something to his friend. He would be back soon. He promised you.

But as the minutes ticked by, it felt like hours and you couldn't wait any longer. Throwing off the covers, your legs shook as you stepped towards the door. However, you froze in place and your ears twitched, picking up the sounds faster than the average human which normally would've given you an advantage but you couldn't move in time.

The door flew open with a bang, slamming into the wall and making you jump nearly five feet into the air. On the other side stood the girl with pink hair and skin that you had seen earlier, along with the electric boy and a few others you didn't recognize.

You shrunk back as the group exploded into chaos, directing questions towards you faster than you could process or fend off on your own. Your panic rose as they flooded in, clutching your hands tightly to your chest at the overwhelming amount of people in the cramped space.

Then, your eyes widened as someone shouted frantically for them to move, shouldering his way through until he came to you. You willed your feet to move but they wouldn't obey no matter how hard you tried, your body still frozen in fear. It didn't matter though because he reached you within seconds.

"Guys, seriously, back off!!" Ojiro shouted above the clamor, his tail pulling you close and tucked you under his arm. "You're scaring her!!"

At the strain in his usually light tone, his friends started to quiet down one by one and he turned his full attention on you.

"You okay?" He murmured, cradling your jaw and inspecting your face for any hint that you might've been hurt.

You didn't say anything, just threw your arms around him and brushed your nose against the crook of his neck, scenting him. His warm scent eased you and brought you back down bit by bit until your feet were planted firmly on the ground.

Even though he had no clue what you were doing, it was making the tension wound in your body disappear fast so he didn't have any issues with it. But his breath hitched as a soft rumble emitted from the back of your throat in contentment, squeezing you once before letting you go. He didn't detach his tail from you though, using it as a wall to keep his overeager friends from coming too close.

Ojiro let you do what you needed in that moment and in the minutes that followed, his friends began peppering you with questions. He let you keep your face nuzzled into his chest as you shyly answered them but he answered for you whenever you hesitated so that you wouldn't be put in an uncomfortable position of refusing them.

He had already seen what you were like when something that was normal for them went against what was ingrained into you and his arms curled around you tighter in an effort to protect you.

You were thankful for him taking most of the pressure off of you, timidly straying from his side when he encouraged you to talk to the girls a little bit more. You warmed up to them much faster than the rest, your eyes brightening up excitedly when they told you there was a girl among their friend group who had a frog quirk.

He sighed as Yaoyorozu and Ashido led you away from the boys with the rest of the girls in tow to go to a space where the environment would be better for you. Feeling bad that the secret had gotten out already, he winced as he thought of the penalty he would face once he told Aizawa.

Kaminari smirked, leaning against the doorframe after you exited. "Man, where have you been hiding her?"

Ojiro shot him a look that told him to keep quiet, not in the mood for playing around. "That's not funny."

"C'mon man, we're just teasing." Kirishima added on, not picking up on the tense energy of the room. "You could've at least told us you had a girlfriend, she's really cute."

"If not a little shy." Sero grinned, elbowing him in the ribs teasingly. "Don't worry, it's not like we're going to steal her away or anything."

"You should not have a girl in your room, Ojiro!!" Iida declared, chopping his hands in the air to emphasize his point despite the inconsiderate snickering occurring on the other side of the room by the three of them. "It is not appropriate!!"

Shoji, Sato and Koda all elected to remain silent, studying their friend's shadowed expression as their other classmates relentlessly teased him.

Forehead creasing in annoyance at the continuous jabs, Ojiro blurted out, "Guys, stop!! It's not something to joke about!!"

He sank to the floor, head in his hands and for the first time since they burst in, the guys finally took notice of the way his shoulders shook and how anxiety seemed to roll off of him in waves.

"She's in real danger." Ojiro told them quietly. "There are bad people looking for her so you guys can't talk about her, alright?"

"Please." He begged, not caring how desperate he sounded.

All he wanted was for you to be safe. All he wanted was for you to live the life you had been robbed of without having to look over your shoulder to see if someone was following you or not.

Shoji uncrossed his duplicate arms, stance broadening. "We won't."

"Yeah," Kirishima inserted, rubbing the back of his neck, ashamed of his behavior earlier. "Sorry man, had no idea."

Scattered apologies followed his and reluctantly, Ojiro raised his head, mouth set in a determined line. He didn't answer too many questions about your situation, wanting to keep as much of it as he could private until he knew how you felt about telling them and stood up. Now that damage control had been dealt with, all that was left was to tell Aizawa.

Piece of cake.

Back with the girls, you were dragged back to the elevators to get to the girls' side. Since Jirou's was the closest, you guys went there. Your expression filled with awe at the many instruments that hung on the walls, wanting to touch them but you didn't want to get in trouble so you kept your hands stiffly by your sides.

Ashido enthusiastically led you to the plushiest spot on the floor and for a second, you were reminded of the little stuffed giraffe Ojiro let you play with when he caught you looking at it. A smile tugged at the corner of your lips and you jumped when the girls squealed.

"Who are you thinking about?" Ashido pried, eyes glimmering with mischief. "It's Ojiro-kun, isn't it?!"

Your mouth opened and closed, unable to form a response to that. You covered your ears when she shrieked excitedly, taking your silence as your answer and dancing around the room.

"Mina-chan, calm down, you're a little too loud." Yaoyorozu told her gently before reaching over to pat your shoulder. "Where did you come from?"

Mouth parting in shock at how blatant she was being, you twiddled with the strings of Ojiro's hoodie. "Um, well, they told me that my breed is mixed so I don't sell as well as a purebred but I'm fast and—"

"Oh goodness no!!" Ashido interrupted, eyes widened in horror and if you looked around you would've seen all the other girls wearing that exact same expression. "That's not what she meant!!"

Tilting your head to the side clueless, you frowned. "It's not?"

"No!!" Yaoyorozu exclaimed, horrified by what you had to have been through to respond like that on instinct. "I meant how did you get in the dormitory, in Ojiro-san's room nonetheless!!"

"Ah, well... that, um... I—" You cut off your stammering with a frustrated sigh. "I'm not sure how much I'm allowed to tell you."

"That's okay." Uraraka reassured you easily.

Her energy reminded you of Ojiro.

"Is it true that you're in danger?" Jirou spoke up for the first time since the gang of girls invaded her room.

Your jaw dropped in shock but your expression cleared when she waved her earjacks around pointedly. That must've been how she could hear and judging by the timing of her question, you concluded that Ojiro must have been the one talking about your circumstances. And since you didn't feel like he would knowingly put you into danger, you told them what you told him.

Their expressions crumbled before you, losing all semblance of their happy-go-lucky personalities as disbelief took over.

Yaoyorozu's eyes filled with tears. "You had to endure all of that alone?"

"That's horrible!!" Ashido cried out.

"I'm so sorry!!" Uraraka and Hagakure shouted simultaneously.

"I can't imagine what that must've been like." Jirou said, her eyes sad. "You're here now though, so Aizawa-sensei must've given you permission."

You nodded, knees tucked under you as you gripped the hem of the blue sweatshirt. "Yes, but it was only supposed to be a temporary solution and no one else was supposed to find out."

Hesitating, you gulped. "If... If this gets out, I—"

"Don't worry, Y/N-chan!!" Ashido exclaimed, shooting to her feet and pumping her fist in the air. "We'll definitely protect you."

Jirou nodded, fueled by her friend. "Yeah!!"

"You can count on us!!" Hagakure jumped up beside her.

"They won't be able to touch you anymore now that you've got us!!" Yaoyorozu declared determinedly.

"Let's go!!" Uraraka cheered. "Plus Ultra!!"

You burst into sobs at their overwhelming support despite only having just met them and the girls crowded around you in the best group hug you've ever received.

After that emotional roller coaster, they were going to bring you back to Ojiro's room since that's where you wanted to stay for the night but they heard your stomach growling and collectively decided to feed you with whatever they could find in the kitchen.

Yaoyorozu was pretty sure there was some leftover pizza that the guys had bought earlier that day.

Your protests fell on deaf ears as Ashido and Uraraka dragged you all the way there, Jirou trailing behind as Yaoyorozu and Hagakure ran ahead.

"You don't want your own room?" Jirou questioned when they finally released you.

You shook your head. "I... I don't really like being alone and Ojiro-san is my first friend I've had in a long time, so I... I trust him."

She nodded understandingly. "I get it."

"That is soooo cute!!" Hagakure swooned, balancing several boxes of various packaged Japanese snacks in her arms.

You blushed beet red, flushing further when the girls cooed at how cute you were. Pulling the collar of the hoodie up to hide your smile, you pleaded for them to stop embarrassing you. Tea kettle whistling on the stove as Yaoyorozu prepared some jasmine tea, Uraraka brought out the pizza box she had just found from the industrial-sized fridge, handing it to you after heating it up.

"Isn't this someone's food?" You questioned, not touching it. You didn't want to eat it if it belonged to someone.

Jirou pushed it towards you encouragingly with her earphone jack, smirking. "Trust me, Kaminari won't miss it."

You decided to take her word for it.

You had barely finished half a slice when the front door opened and the chilly night air blew inside. Turning around, you hopped off of the stool you were perched on and ran to Ojiro, who had an extremely exhausted Aizawa in tow.

Ojiro caught you easily, wrapping his tail around you out of instinct. It was getting to be a habit by now.

"Are you okay?" He asked as he checked you over.

You giggled, prying his hands away from their dutiful inspection. "I'm okay."

He breathed a sigh of relief but the two of you stiffened when Aizawa cleared his throat from behind him.

"As much as I don't want to interrupt whatever that is," He droned monotonously. "This has gotten a lot more serious."

You shared a worried look with Ojiro and gasped when his tail tightened around your waist ever so slightly.

"You can't stay here." Aizawa told you, fixating his eyes on the students who moved to object, more flooding in as their sensei's voice carried clearly. "You need to come with me, I'll find you a place to stay for the night."

Taglist: @katsukis-sad-angel​

[soultek]

An deiner Seite - Marco Bodt x Reader (Attack on Titan)

Author’s Note: Well! Welcome to my first piece of Attack on Titan writing!

Of course it’s Marco. Bertolt and Reiner are my favourites so of course it’s Marco who I get the idea to write for.

Maybe because my ideas for Bert and Reiner are so messy

I digress. Let’s retcon a certain something for my (and Jean’s) sunshine ☀️

I’m *this* close to the possibility of a series but we’ll see...

Disclaimer: AoT/SnK and all associated characters not mine / I’m certainly not that hot at writing action, but I gave it my best shot / tried to keep reader as gender neutral as possible

Premise: When you find Marco in the clutches of a Titan, you have but one thought. Not him, not today, not ever.

Words: 3270

Warnings: Potential spoilers for Marco’s death depending on how much of the show you have/n’t seen 

______

Screaming filled the air of the quietened district of Trost once more. It was supposed to be over. Nearly over. Eren was certainly stealing all the attention in his Titan form, despite the presence of other Titans still in the area. Ignoring them to marvel at the new ‘Secret Weapon’ proved to be a fatal mistake.

Nearly fatal. The scream that pierced your ears made your blood run cold and you turned on a dime; this was not a time for thinking. It was a time for pure instinct. Of the 104th Cadets you weren’t anything other than good; good at everything but never really excelling in anything. You hadn’t made the top 10 cut, but that didn’t really matter to you. You weren’t aiming for the Military Police as so many of your friends were. But you were quick on your feet – which had been quite the saving grace in this battle already, and you were almost as much of a specialist with your ODM gear as Jean Kirstein. You didn’t need to check your canisters before launching yourself from the roof as you sprinted – you could make it, you had to make it. Even if you consumed all your gas in the process.

Your gear rocketed you through the air towards the Titan and you swallowed back your fear, your hatred – nearly emotionless as you arced yourself, running your blades parallel to make the cut. No time to think about the consequences of not getting there in time. The consequences of not cutting deep enough. You turned your body into your slice and let gravity do the rest of your work as you expended more gas to propel yourself – you didn’t even have time to go for the nape. Oh no, you’d have to slice through skin and muscle and bone; or else risk crushing him in the process of killing it. You would never forgive yourself for coming so close only to end up the cause of the very thing you were trying to prevent.

The Titan’s fingers seemed like the easiest option so that’s where you went, and with all your calculated factors your cuts were successful even if not entirely clean. You hardly cared about that – there was something else on your mind, dropping a blade from your hand in time to snatch the cadet from its clutches. Not today. Not him. If you had your way, not EVER. Your wires slacked as you overshot the building you’d grappled into and both you and Marco slammed hard into the roof tiles, skittering across them. Digging your heels in, you retracted your gear and discarding your now trashed blades, you clicked fresh ones into place. Even now, no time to think. Marco – still slightly dazed and definitely hurting – managed to lift his body up shakily on his arms from his sprawled position to at least see who his saviour was. You? He smiled despite it all; of course! “Stay here.” You growled, and Marco barely had time to get out a ‘huh!?’ as you pushed yourself into another sprint. Steam may have been rising from the Titan’s severed fingers, but it was still staring at you both – you channelled all your hate this time as you released your grapples into the building opposite. This time you didn’t have to be so calculated; this time it didn’t matter as long as you killed it. Marco was safe now. If you’d been even one second later… “NOT MY BOYFRIEND, YOU SON OF A BITCH-!” You hollered, hurling yourself at the Titan. Reckless maybe, but in your eyes necessary. You swung yourself out in the opposite direction to where your gear had set, narrowly missing what was left of the Titan’s hand as it lunged for you. And as your feet left the rooftop the iron cables wrapped themselves around the Titan’s neck, straining. You could feel the tiny smirk on your face as you reeled yourself in, blades once again in perfect positioning for your final strike. It was a shame you couldn’t make it suffer any more than this. But you could dwell on that later. Your cut was clean, perhaps even deeper than necessary, as you felt the snap of bone under your blades again. Neither were intact as you landed back on the tiles, a little harder than you would have liked, considering the way your body jarred for just a second. Grapples retracted, you once again relieved yourself of broken blades. But not before kissing one – hardly caring about the amount of Titan blood on them, or you, now becoming that same vapour. Thank you, for helping me save him… You brushed yourself down, and stored your equipment. You could already feel yourself shaking, adrenaline spent. Taking a deep breath, you allowed yourself to think for a moment how close to death he’d just been, how you’d just thrown yourself in harms way to save his life. You would do anything for Marco Bodt. That’s just how it was. Certainly wouldn’t have gained me any points with Shadis though… Pushing your feet on in urgency, you skidded across the tiles to your ‘damsel in distress’. By now Marco had managed to ease himself to standing, despite clutching his right arm – you guessed that meant he wasn’t hurt so bad, thank the Walls for that. His eyes were beholding you with a sense of wonder, but you could see the horror behind them – Marco knew what would have happened had you not swooped in. You supposed brushes with death would not be so easy to overcome. “Geez, Marco! Jean and I were so worried-!” Somehow these were the first words that made their way out of your mouth, maybe they were the only ones you could say safely right now. Well, actually, you didn’t know if Jean was worried. You didn’t even know if Jean had heard the same thing you had or even where he was - but you knew he’d be pissed once he found out. You stopped in front of him, scariness of the situation suddenly hitting you full force, you felt the lump in your throat before tears brimmed. Although they didn’t fall. You didn’t need to bother him with that right now – Marco needed you. “Don’t ever do that to me again!” You weren’t sure why your instant reaction was to be mad at him – but then you weren’t mad at him, you were mad at the circumstances. That a Titan had even gone for Marco - had been given the opportunity to do so. That he’d had to go through that. If you’d been with him in the first place… No use crying over not being put in squad 19 now.

Marco’s attempt to calm you was valiant, and the fearful look in his eyes almost dissipated as he smiled, despite it still being present in his voice. “I- I know… I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to worry either of you…” How could you stay mad at that smile? Those pretty brown eyes? The constellation of freckles that painted his cheeks you just loved so damn much. You gave him a slight smile back, almost by way of apology for yelling… or acceptance of his own. Marco knew it was only because you were so alarmed, your emotions were allowed to get the better of you in situations like this. Your eyes left his to scan his body for any other signs of injury besides the arm; maybe he was trying to keep his weight to one side, maybe he was bleeding somewhere. You’d be forcing him to medical anyway, if Jean didn’t drag him there himself – but you wanted to figure out how urgent it should be… You paused, eyes flying wide in shock once more. “Where’s your ODM gear!?” You took a step back; how had you not noticed!? The pause of significance had you darting your gaze back to his face and for a few seconds Marco looked absent, a flicker as if he’d just seen a ghost. Before he swallowed hard, giving an embarrassed laugh and rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, I-! I lost it.” You reacted too quickly to what he had said to realise a decision had been made leading to that response; “LOST IT! Babe you almost got eaten!” You grabbed Marco’s hands in yours, squeezing them tight, half to make sure he was really still here, alive and breathing, and half to try to get him to realise the seriousness of the situation. “It wouldn’t have mattered! I was out of gas, I thought I could out run them!” “Over rooftops!? Marco, they’re 15 meters high-!” You didn’t really remember him being outstanding at parkour. Marco was quick, nearly as quick as you, but you would reckon anyone would have struggled with a strategy like that. Even Humanities Strongest… “I know, I know, I’m sorry.” Marco found himself apologising once more as he laced your fingers together. His hands were so warm; you weren’t sure if that was just because you were hyperfocusing on his touch right now, or radiated heat from the death grip of a Titan. You could have lost this… Anywhere else in Trost, a little less skill… you could have lost this… Your boyfriend cleared his throat to perhaps offer better explanation. “But I thought the lack of gear would make me lighter, y’know?” His clarification made sense, but it was still suicide. Had he not thought about his best friend? Had he not thought about you? No, Marco would only have thought about you both – overconfident determination was not his thing. Did this make sense? Could it have made anything other than sense… people did crazy things in battle, in the heat of the moment even the coolest of heads could make rash decisions like that. Even Marco could – hadn’t you just done something comparably insane? Your face pulled back into a look of distress and you chewed your bottom lip for a second to stop yourself tearing up again. “You scared me!” You were glad that your tone wasn’t so much chiding, but that wasn’t about to stop Marco’s expression screwing up in concern. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” There he was apologising all over again, this time with a wince to accompany his nervous smile, hands detaching from yours to be held up defensively. You took this opportunity to really look at him and you gasped gently at the slight redness to his eyes, the tear stains running through the speckles of dust on his cheeks. You tried to ignore that in this light you could see where his crying had dampened his shirt too. You were forgetting which one of you had just been saved from hell. Marco didn’t deserve to be subject to your anger at the world, he needed the exact opposite. Your expression softened and you reached out, holding his face gently in your hands, you ran your thumbs through the subtle marks to rid Marco of them. You don’t need to cry now, I’m here… It’s going to be okay. At your movement Marco couldn’t help but give you his best lopsided smile; as good as he could when he was still shaken up. You giggled, “Aw! How could I not forgive such a cute face-?” Removing your hands from his cheeks you wound your arms around him and pulled your body into his, head against his chest. Marco’s whole body was just as warm; you wondered once more about the Titan’s hold on him – you knew they ran particularly high body temperatures. Closing your eyes for a second as you melted into his embrace, you focused on his heartbeat; Marco was calming now, but that was all the proof you needed that he was still here with you and breathing. You’d both lived to fight another day. But taking back Trost had only taught you how human you were; how easy you could be taken from each other. You enveloped him a little tighter at your own thought: No. You couldn’t allow yourself to believe it would be easy – you would fight to the death for him. And you knew how protective Marco could get.

You couldn’t help but beam, inhaling him – allowing yourself to be caught in his familiarity for just a moment. The Titans that needed taking down after Eren had sealed the breach could wait for just a second longer. And yet, with Marco in the state he was in without his gear, you got the feeling there was only one way you could go. “Guess I gotta haul you back home now, huh-!?” You reluctantly pulled away from his chest, looking back up into those beautiful eyes. Pink dusted his cheeks slightly, only making you smile wider. Marco’s blush coupled with his freckles was a different kind of adorable all together. His laugh was genuine, and you were glad he was happy. It didn’t seem to take much to get your Marco back. “Haha, guess you get to be my knight in shining armour huh? And I certainly don’t mind that!” He grinned and you smirked gently; “Or-- I can suit you up... and you can carry me home? We can swap gear over and you can sweep me off my feet, my handsome prince.” His blush was already deepening but Marco was a goner as soon as you added the wink.  And the cute collection of freckles really did stand out against the red; you couldn’t help but giggle in happiness. But Marco took a breath, and this time he grinned; besides it would take a little while to take the ODM gear from you and put it on him, and right now he’d rather be out of the reach of Titans, for obvious reasons. “No, no, people should get to know you saved my life-”

Marco suddenly stiffened as his gaze wandered to just over your shoulder, you watched his eyes grow wide and there was that flicker again. His grip on you tightened just a little, and your hand fell to your blades instinctively as you turned to see what has caused his mood change. A few roof tops away from the two of you, and on slightly higher ground, stood your group of friends; Annie, Reiner and Bertholdt. (Well, you kicked around with the guys a lot at least.) You tipped your head watching them, eyebrow quirked, half raising the hand that had shot to your blades in greeting. Their expressions were all unreadable, Reiner was the only one who attempted to return your salutation. “Where the heck were they!?” An aside said out loud. Not that you minded saving Marco all by yourself, but help would always have been appreciated. You turned away from them and back to your boyfriend, whose expression was now worn a little more neutral. His grip on you was not. “Babe, what’s wrong?” “It’s- it’s nothing...” Marco blinked hard and when his eyes returned to you, he immediately softened, with a smile, “Let’s get out of here.” “Okay, Sunshine. Your call!” You gave a nod, grinning, before stepping to his side, looping your arm around his waist as Marco secured his own around your shoulders. Leaning across, you brushed your lips to his cheek gently, thankful he was still with you. All these little things suddenly seemed so huge with renewed context… “You sure you’ll be okay?” “I’ll be fine, if there’s anyone that can get you out of here it’s me and Jean, right?” You teased, gently rapping the knuckles of your free hand against the gas cylinders. Despite knowing you’d used a lot to get to him, you knew you’d be fine taking Marco back too. You smiled; things were on your side today. You all needed to catch a break, and you supposed there was no better time than today. “Thank God I happen to be in with the two ODM specialists of the class!” “Speaking of, he’s probably wandering where the heck we are.” “…Better not leave him hanging.” Marco’s voice was at least amused, as you made sure everything was secure. You had to confirm you weren’t about to lose your own ODM gear trying to get him back to the safety of the wall. “Alright, let’s get you home and dry!” Marco gave a confident nod to match the smile on his face and gripped you a little tighter. You glanced back to the other roof top, but by now the other three had disappeared. You frowned, still a little puzzled by Marco’s reaction, but brushed it off to focus on the task ahead of you. Neither of you needed a count down and pushed off at the same time, running to the edge of the roof so your ODM gear needed to do the minimal amount of work, before you both jumped, laughing as you loosed your grapples into the nearest tall building surface. You had to admit to yourself, you loved how tight Marco was hanging onto you and couldn’t help but notice how his smile grew as you carried him towards the safety of the wall. You held him a little closer too. Today would hit you hard, maybe later, when you’d all calmed down and reality settled in the dead of night. You hoped it wouldn’t come to you in dreams… But you supposed you would find out. You glanced to the ground below, the structures around you, Marco was doing the same and you knew you were both looking for the same person; Jean. The first thing you would do was reunite, regroup and recount… and then would come the big decision. Where the three of you would go, having all just graduated. If decisions would change, now you’d been through hell and back. Marco took your hand, lacing your fingers as you landed back within Wall Rose and the military camp set up – all quiet here, not a Titan to be seen. You squeezed his hand hard in response as you both scanned the movements of people, trying not to get disheartened at how many weren’t there. You didn’t even allow the possibility that Jean was one of them to cross your mind. “GUYS---!” Both of you gasped, turning towards the voice, “GUYS! OH, THANK GOD---!!” Jean waved his arms through the air as he raced towards you both. “JEAN!” You yelled in unison, taking off towards your best friend and practically throwing yourselves at him. Jean Kirstein staggered and you all fell with a thump to the floor, laughing, “Okay, geez, I get it you missed me! I’d miss me too!” He cracked a smile, arms around you both. Marco and yourself shared a look, quietly agreeing that you’d tell Jean what happened later. Right now was a time to be relieved that your trio had made it out of Trost alive. Survived one more day. You both threw your arms back around him and hugged each other close. You closed your eyes tight, enjoying the sound of both of them laughing into the air. You were all still just kids; this was how it was meant to be, right? Having fun and messing around and not having to worry about friends you’d lost, or the monsters outside the walls… You smiled to yourself; maybe one day you’d get that all back.

I’m glad you’re safe… Oh boys, I’m so glad you’re safe… Thank God… that you’re alive… I don’t know how to thank anyone enough for this… I don’t know what I’d do… if you had gone…

---

Thank you very much for reading! 😘❤

[we-love-imagines]

Little Secret

Valentine’s Event: Happy Valentine’s Day!

Prompt: Kakyoin + Tattoos

Ao3 Link

Author’s Note: Hey guys! Happy Valentine’s Day! I hope you’ve enjoyed my little fic collection over this past week, it was so much fun to write! I’d like to thank @magthemage for beta reading all these stories! Go read her stuff, she’s awesome!

This story in particular is an everyone lives! au, where you are a former Stardust Crusader, and you, Kakyoin, and Jotaro are all college students who enroll in an American University and share an apartment. Also, while the reader is gender-neutral, I did say they were smaller than the rest of the crusaders... sorry if you’re a beefcake! There’s also the tiniest bit of suggestiveness, but no actual nsfw. Everyone in this fic is aged up to be over 21, and please drink responsibly! Enjoy!

“Kakyoin!” You exclaimed, wrapping your arm around your sober friend’s shoulder, “C’mon, it’ll be so cool!”

“Yeah, we can all get ‘em in the same spot too! It’ll be so rad! C’mon, even Jotaro is down!” Polnareff slurred from the other side of the table, motioning to Jotaro who only gave a solemn thumbs up.

“We are not getting matching tattoos,” Kakyoin deadpanned, getting tired of all his companion’s drunk antics. It’s funny- after defeating Dio, he thought all his troubles were over. But, because the injuries he got in Egypt rendered him unable to drink, he was forever doomed to be the designated driver.

Unluckily for him, this was a rowdy group to handle.

“Kakyoin,” Mr.Joestar placed a hand on his shoulder, brushing you off of him, “We’ll even let you pick. It’s not as cool if we don’t all get one.”

“You’re all wasted,” he chuckled, looking at how all of his friends swayed, red in the face, letting the conversation wander aimlessly after way too many shots. After you all defeated Dio, you made it a tradition to meet up and celebrate the bastard’s death by getting as plastered as possible. While you still saw the others fairly regularly, seeing as you, Jotaro, and Kakyoin became roommates after high school, it was nice to have the others fly in to see everyone again.

Kakyoin watched as Jotaro and Avdol sat in silence, the former’s signature cap pulled over his eyes. They were subdued drunks, getting all quiet when under the influence. Kakyoin noticed how Avdol would turn a tad introspective after a few shots, abruptly bringing up thought-provoking questions like “Do Stands Dream?” or “Where do the clouds go after they roll by?” Jotaro, on the other hand, tended to mellow out. His short fuse stretched out a bit when he was drunk, and for once, he could take a joke.

Polnareff and Joseph, on the other hand, embodied pure chaos. Joseph would always try to instigate things: karaoke, bar fights, getting matching tattoos, and Polnareff would sing his praises and go along with all of his crazy schemes. Somehow, the Frenchman would get even louder, barking for the bartender to bring him more shots so he could out-drink everyone in the building.

Then, there was you. While you could certainly hold your booze better than others of your stature, you were no match for the hulking giants that were your fellow crusaders. So, while you kept pace with them while you were drinking, you would get shit-faced before they were feeling the slightest bit buzzed. While you were usually pretty fun and adventurous, the alcohol in your system turned that up to eleven, making you down for anything and everything.

“Wouldn’t it be so cool to get something together?” You grinned to Kakyoin, eyes wide with excitement, “To show how close we are after everything that happened, Jotaro?”

“You’re talking to Kakyoin, (Y/n),” he sighed, calling the bartender over for the bill. You had all had more than enough for the night.

“Then why are you wearing that funny hat, hm?” You said, flicking Kakyoin’s pronounced bang with a giggle. You were trashed. Kakyoin thought about your impending wrath tomorrow, and having to deal with a hangover for the ages.

“What would we get for a tattoo? Dio’s name?” Polnareff asked the group, sitting back in the booth seat. Jotaro, with surprisingly little bite in his voice, grumbled and shook his head.

“I’m not getting that asshole’s name anywhere on my body.”

“Y’know that picture we took? When we first got to Egypt?” Joseph spoke up, “We could all get that across our backs!”

“That’s way too complex!” Polnareff protested with a smile. You got everyone’s attention when you slapped your hands down on the table with a thundering ‘boom.’

“Guys,” you beamed, pure excitement in your voice, “Iggy. Tramp. Stamps.”

The table fell silent as everybody stared at you blankly. For a moment, Kakyoin thought everyone would laugh at your silly idea. That was the tackiest tattoo anyone has ever thought up!

Polnareff, with a look as serious as death, gave a resounding “Hell yeah!”

After that, all hell broke loose, as even the more subdued members of the group went along with the idea. It was agreed that Iggy, who Polnareff took in after everything went down, would get a collar with his own face on it in solidarity. Despite the risqué location, everyone seemed pumped to get matching tramp stamps of the world’s grumpiest Boston Terrier. Even Jotaro was nodding along as the more vocal members rambled on and on.

“Okay, it’s time to go,” Kakyoin shouted over the group, causing the uproar to die down for a moment, “I’m driving, let’s get in the car.”

“Oh my gosh, he’s doing it,” you cheered, wrapping Kakyoin in a tight, powerful hug, “Kakyoin’s gonna drive us to the tattoo parlor!”

The others broke out in celebration, high-fiving each other as they readied themselves to get all inked-up. The bartender gave Kakyoin a sorry look as he herded everyone into his car, having to walk you there the whole way as you stumbled through the parking lot.

It seemed that everyone felt dizzy as they stood up from their seats, and while Polnareff and Joseph were still a little talkative, the car’s atmosphere was a lot more relaxed than the bar’s. Kakyoin had done this drive a few times before, having to calm down his former travel companions after a hearty night of drinking, so he had it down to a science. Putting a CD labeled “Joseph had a Crazy Idea -Mix” into the player, Kakyoin drove around the block a few times, waiting patiently for the conversation to die down.

Soon enough, the car fell silent as everyone stooped into a drunken haze, bodies limp in their seats as they nearly dozed off to sleep. However, you were buckled into the passenger’s seat, lightly snoring as you drifted into dreamland. Just as expected.

As Kakyoin slowly dropped off the various men at their hotels, who had forgotten about their planned misadventure in their intoxicated stupor, he found himself smiling at your sleeping form as you wormed around in your seat. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t have feelings for you- he knew he did all the way back when you two were teenagers, when you saved him from certain death at Dio’s hand- and seeing you like this always warmed his heart. You were a battle-hardened badass like the rest of them, having seen Dio’s horrors at an age that was simply too young for comfort; but here you were, sleeping peacefully with the giddiest look on your face imaginable.

Sometimes, being your roommate was hard. He knew you were so close, that he could just walk over to your room and confess his ever-growing feelings for you whenever he wanted, that one day he could share a bed with this sleeping angel right next to him. It was on days like this that he realized why he liked you so much: you were kind, cute, and a lot more fun then he was.

Pulling up to your apartment, Jotaro slowly made his way out of the backseat, not even giving Kakyoin a passing glance as he went into the apartment. Leaving Kakyoin to deal with your passed out form, the red-head sighed, unbuckling your seatbelt as he pulled your from the car. He carried you up a flight of stairs, careful not to let you stir, using Hierophant to open the apartment’s door.

Jotaro looked dead, passed out face-down on the couch. Kakyoin rolled his eyes as Hierophant pulled a blanket over his friend- he’d be a pleasure to deal with in the morning. 

“Jotaro,” you giggled out, taking Kakyoin by surprise as you lightly flicked his bang around, “Are we at the tattoo parlor yet?”

Kakyoin quickly tried to shush you, rushing into your room so as to not wake your more aggressive roommate, “No, (Y/n), I’m Kakyoin.”

“Jotaro,” you repeated, much to Kakyoin’s sober displeasure, “Do you think Kakyoin is gonna get the tattoo?”

“I don’t think so, you should try and get some rest,” he whispered to you, setting you down on your bed. He helped you take off your shoes, and despite being in full dress, you make yourself cozy under the covers.

“That’s too bad,” you sighed dramatically, looking up at him through blurry vision, “I was hoping I could see his ass while he got his tattoo. You know how much I like his butt!”

Taken back by your comment, Kakyoin couldn’t stop the hearty laugh that slipped through his lips. He knew he shouldn’t press this topic further, but he was so amused he couldn’t help himself.

“You like Kakyoin’s ass, huh?”

“Duh!” you laughed along with the man, despite not knowing what ‘Jotaro’ found so funny, “Have you seen him in that one pair of skinny jeans he owns? Hot Damn!”

Kakyoin started laughing even harder, wishing he could record this conversation and show it to you later. You’d probably kill him, but this was a nice treat after a long night of dealing with a hollering group of drunken idiots. However, he couldn’t help but feel all warm and fuzzy at your words- did you really find him attractive? It felt really nice to be thought of that way, especially by you.

“I think that ass is made of pure boyfriend material, if you ask me,” you snorted, taking Kakyoin completely by surprise, “Jojo, I know you tell me to just man-up and ask him out, but I don’t wanna scare him away. If he doesn’t like me anymore, he won’t take me to get tattoos!”

Kakyoin froze, trying to process everything he just heard. While cheesy, he never wanted to forget that ‘boyfriend material’ line, or the way your voice softened while you spoke about him. He was in awe of the fact that you had feelings for him- feelings so strong that they had to be confided in Jotaro- and how you feared that he wouldn’t be interested. The red-head was puzzled by your doubts. How could someone as wonderful as you ever not be enough? How could you ever think he didn’t return your feelings? Sometimes, he felt like his feelings were obvious- but, here he was, standing before you as you wearily blinked up at him, eyelids becoming heavy.

“Shhhhh, don’t tell him!” You yawned, weakly dragging your finger over his lips, “Wake me when we get to the tattoo parlor...”

Kakyoin watched your head clunk down onto the pillow, and you were out like a light. After tucking you in, he left the room feeling a little guilty; that was obviously a secret you didn’t want him to hear. However, at the same time, he was over the moon. The person he had admired for years was suddenly in his grasp, finally attainable after years and years of silent pining. 

Before he went to bed, Kakyoin made a point to pull his skinny jeans from his closet, laying them out on top of his dresser. He’d be needing them for tomorrow- he wanted his ass to look good while he asked you out, is all.

[brutal-nemesis]

Ice Day 2021: Cool-stys

Hoo boy my fingers are cold. Happy Ice Day! I hope y’all are staying chilly, and here’s to more pain! And as for this one...it’s a lot of pain (⊙ˍ⊙)

Oh also because I don’t have a place for this information but I feel like you should know before you read so when it comes up you get what I mean: I imagine a Quibhassian accent sounds quite similar to an Icelandic one.

Castys Masterlist

Ingredients: self-amputation, suicide for convenience (immortal), self-harm to escape danger, stabbing, body horror, implied suffocation

Why was Castys somehow always in the wrong place at the wrong time? Seriously, he had the worst luck. Unless you counted accidentally witnessing a murder as lucky. Well, maybe it was lucky for the person getting murdered because then they could get justice or whatever. Except Castys didn’t really care about justice and never reported that sort of thing to the authorities. So, in conclusion, Castys witnessing your murder was unlucky for you and for him. Unlucky for you because he wasn’t going to tattle on the murderer, and unlucky for him because he was currently being chased through a forest by some murderer lady.

He was never a fan of running, and certainly not running through the snow while all bundled up because it was cold but running makes you hot so there’s no temperature happiness there. He was debating just giving up and trying to reason with the lady when he tripped over some hidden mystery object and landed face first in the snow, making that decision for him. A boot kicked his shoulder and turned him over before planting itself firmly on his chest. The woman attached to it was glaring down at him, holding a large icy spear-type-thing to his neck, which would be threatening if he could actually die. Well, maybe he could talk his way out before she decided to hurt him. Because he’d rather she didn’t.

“I would just like to inform you: I really don’t care about what I saw back there. I kill people all the time; it happens. So, if you’ll just let me go on my merry way, I promise not to tell anyone about the whole, uh, murder thing. We good?” He flashed her his most convincing smile, but all she did was narrow her eyes.

“I don’t know if I can trust the word of a man like you.” She had a strong Quibhassian accent, which wasn’t surprising as they were in fact in the frozen wastes of Quibhass. 

“A man like-wha-we just met?! You don’t even know me! You’d be totally justified in your whatever criticisms after, like, talking to me for more than five minutes, but it hasn’t been that long.”

“You give the impression of a wiry little mustela, saying anything to save your own skin.” She jabbed the sharp end of her giant icicle into his neck. Well, into his scarf. Still threat-y, though.

“I-I don’t even know what that is. Look,” he finally held up his hands, which he probably should have done initially, but he found it incredibly hard not to wave them around when he talked, “is there any way I can convince you not to stab me in the throat? Because if so I’d love to hear it.” Not that he was afraid she’d kill him, being that he couldn’t die, but if she did that, she’d find out that he was immortal, which...well, people didn’t typically react well to that information. Something about him being immortal made people really want to tie him up and hurt him, which was not a pastime he enjoyed. The woman seemed to think for a moment before setting her jaw and raising her spear. 

“No. Goodbye, little mustela.” Castys opened his mouth to protest, he didn’t want to get blood all over his clothes, but the sudden agony and the usual blackness told him it was too late.

When he came back to life, he was displeased to find that she had not just left his corpse lying in the snow. No, she had to be dragging him to wherever by the ankle. Great, he’d have to play dead and pray she didn’t notice that he was very much not dead. He supposed he could just wiggle free and rely on the element of surprise to give him a head start, but it hadn’t exactly gone well the last time she chased him. Better to just wait and hope that she didn’t set him on fire. No, she wouldn’t, because ice wizards don’t set people on fire. They set them on...cold. Holy shit where was she dragging him this was taking forever and he was starting to have incredibly stupid thoughts.

By the time she’d stopped dragging him, Castys’s thoughts had wandered into dangerous territory. Not in a “thinking about Bad things” way, but in a “thinking about funny things” way. Specifically that one time Eris got so excited about fried bread that she hit her head on the ceiling. He tried to keep quiet, he really tried. But before he knew it he was laughing uncontrollably, betrayed by the ridiculously low ceilings at that one tavern all those years ago. Why the hell did that have to be so funny? Hopefully she couldn’t hear him, didn’t see his allegedly dead body shaking with restrained chuckles. 

The very cold spear now stabbed into his stomach told him otherwise. 

His eyes snapped open, and once again, she was standing over him. She ripped the bloodied scarf from his neck and examined his neck that now had no hole in it. “Killing me again will accomplish nothing,” Castys said tiredly. “So if you would please-” he had to pause to cough up blood, “accept the fact that I cannot in fact be silenced and permit to run off into the woods, I would appreciate it.” The woman responded by shoving his scarf into his mouth.

“It seems you can be silenced, tricky little mustela.” Castys reached up to pull the bloodied scarf out of his mouth, but a muttered spell from the woman caused shackles of ice to appear on his wrists. She grabbed the chain now connecting his wrists and pulled it up, preventing him from removing the gag. “Any vermin that cannot be killed must be kept. It is the only way.” She snapped the shaft of the spear, leaving the frozen head embedded in his stomach, and began to drag him by the chain between his wrists into the nearby cabin. Castys was marginally grateful that he was at least being brought inside, but that gratefulness disappeared when she flung him down a flight of stairs. 

He was too dazed to resist as the woman started slicing through his coat, reducing almost all of his layers to shreds, which was incredibly rude of her. He’d really liked that coat, and now he had nothing to protect him from her frigid basement. “The cold will keep you trapped in here. Do some of my work for me,” the woman muttered, but Castys hardly heard her over the pounding in his head. And by the time said pounding went away, all he could hear was the door slamming shut and the click of a lock.

Laying on the cold stone floor, Castys yanked his scarf out his mouth and sighed. This was, without a doubt, the worst case scenario. Well, at least his mouth being stuffed full of bloody wool had prevented him from biting his tongue on the way down the stairs, so there was that. Worst case scenario minus tongue pain, but plus everything else pain. But hey, what are magic death rocks for? With frozen fingers, he pulled the pouch around his neck out from under his shirt. He wormed a finger into the pouch, sinking into the sweet release of death at the rock’s touch.

Sadly, dying couldn’t fix all of his problems. He was incredibly cold, for one, and healing himself wasn’t going to fix his coat or get those shackles of his wrists. And he was so, so cold, almost like it was coming from inside him...oh god he was a complete idiot. One of his injuries had been from that icy spear. The broken off point had still been lodged in his abdomen when he died.

And now it was stuck inside him. Fan. Tas. Tic.

Well, unless he was willing to slice himself open and dig it out, which he really wasn’t, that was going to be there for a while. Hopefully it would melt. Stowing away that problem for Later Castys, he sat up and looked around the room, eyes straining to see in the dark. There were shelves along two of the walls, lined with jars containing liquid full of...things. He hoped it was preserved food and not, like, human fingers or something, but it was too dark to tell. Of course, he’d had a lightstone in his pocket before all this happened, but his captor had taken his things while he was dead. Which was honestly fair, he would have done the same. But since he hadn’t actually died, it was rather inconvenient. 

Against the back wall, he found what felt like a table, littered with various tools and-holy shit was that an axe? Further examination proved that yes, that lady had been stupid enough to lock him down here with an axe. He considered breaking down the door right away, but if there was going to be a fight up there, he’d prefer not to have his hands chained together. Trying to break a chain with an axe in the dark wasn’t exactly the safest thing he’d ever done, but it’s not like he could cause any damage to himself that dying wouldn’t fix. He pulled the pouch off of his neck and shook the stone out onto the table, ready for if things went south.

He put the chain of ice against the axe blade and twisted, pulling it taut. Faint crackling noises told him it was working and after a few more moments, the chain snapped under the pressure. He stretched, glad to have his arms free again. Well, they weren’t completely free as those stupid ice shackles were still encircling his wrists. Honestly, he would have preferred metal ones, even if that meant he wouldn’t have been able to break the chain, because, shockingly, these ice ones were incredibly cold. They’d pressed themselves into his bare skin after he’d been relieved of his coat, and their chill felt like it was encasing his arms in ice. He rubbed his hands on his arms, trying to warm them, but the shackles seemed to cover more of his arms than he remembered, almost as if-

The shackles were growing. A layer of ice was creeping out over his skin from where the edges of the shackles used to be. He watched, transfixed in horror for a moment. 

And then panic set in.

He frantically scratched at it to no avail, the ice was starting to cover his hands, he didn’t have any time, and when he remembered the axe, he knew what he had to do. Do I really have to? Trembling fingers wrapped around the axe’s handle as he laid his right arm on the table. I’ve felt this pain before but I’ve never had to do it to myself and I’m not sure if I can- He raised the axe, feeling the ice spread around his fingers, locking them in place. Okay okay I can do this I don’t have time to hesitate I need to stop the ice before it’s too late just do it come on do it do it DO IT-

He did it. The axe buried itself in his arm, right above the elbow. No, no it didn’t go all the way through, he’d need to do it again. Fighting to keep his screams locked behind his teeth, he wrenched the axe out from the notch it had made in his bone and swung it again. This time, it chopped most of the way through with a sickening crack. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he had to get through that last bit of flesh, had to make sure it was completely severed, and then he could die. The axe sliced through the bits of muscle and skin still attaching his arm, and he dove for his rock, pressing what was left of his arm into it.

There was no time to rest after he woke up, because holy balls he was going to have to do that again. Looking at his left arm, he was going to have to cut it off closer to the shoulder at the rate the ice was going. He tried to open his left hand to let go of the axe, but it had completely frozen over, his fingers stuck gripping the handle. Fuck, he didn’t have time for this, the ice was almost to his shoulder and then it would be too late, too late. He wedged the end of the handle under the edge of the table and pulled down with his right hand, hoping he could pry his left hand open. He felt a bolt of elation as he heard the ice start to crack, and pushed down even harder.

The ice, and the fingers within it, cracked and shattered. Castys stilled, his gaze fixed in horror at the jagged stumps where his fingers had been just moments ago. His mind was screaming at him to move, to amputate his other arm before the ice encased it completely, but the fact that his fucking fingers had just snapped off was still setting in. It was only a moment of stillness, a moment of disbelief, but it was a moment too long. 

The axe clattered to the floor. Fingers scratched desperately at the ice now encasing his shoulder, spreading across his chest, creeping up his neck. But it was useless, useless, the ice wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t go away, it was so cold, part of him just wanted to lie down and sleep, succumb to the inevitable frozen cocoon, but part of him was too terrified of the ice growing over his skin, sucking all the heat from his body it was up to his face now was he even going to be able to breathe it’s so cold GET OFF MY EYE GET OUT OF MY MOUTH STOP IT STOP IT PLEASE PLEA-

And then there was silence. There was stillness. And there was cold.

Castys Cult:  @as-a-matter-of-whump​ @blackrosesandwhump​​ @fanmanga1357-blog​​ @poppys-whumping​ @thehopelessopus​ @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi​ @hearse-song​ @muddy-swamp-bitch

[c0ffeebee]

you got any rare kliego fic recs? i’ve probably read the first five pages of most kudos’d results but i know there are a ton that slip thru the cracks

ok, i'm sorry for replying so late, nonny, but i guess looking at the list you'll understand why ❤

i'll be honest with you once i've gotten into kliego i read through their entire tag of ao3 [at least those fics where i was ok with the tags and summary felt intriguing] so now i literally went through it again and picked those of the fics the names of which i remembered, and there's A LOT 😀 some of those are really popular, some not at all, but i remember loving those ❤

at first i thought i would tell you a bit about every fic on the list, but it would take me forever, so i will just give you titles/links, authors and summaries, hope it's fine ❤ look out for the tags tho, to know if you’re fine with everything! and some of those are benkliego ❤

i'm sure i forgot or missed something, but i did my best, trust me ❤

so without further ado i present to you: 

bee's big kliego rec list (in no particular order)

till you can breathe on your own by iwishii

Diego has never been more frightened than he is now, trying to help his brother reach the surface in time.

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practice makes perfect by iwishii

Klaus doesn't want to show up to parties totally inexperienced and virginal, so he asks Diego to help him get some practice in.

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master of my domain by achilleees

“You’re asking five 13-year-old boys not to jerk off for – it can’t be done,” Luther says. “Now that we’re older, it would be different, but back then –”

“Excuse me, I could do it,” Five says. “I could certainly outlast all of you.”

They all look at each other.

“Oh, no,” says Allison.

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the year that wasn't by achilleees

Diego turned to Five. “I’ve already, uh, lived today. This has already happened.”

Everyone went still.

“Ooh, that’s a mind-fuck,” said Klaus.

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The Weight of Himself by sarkywoman

If he could, Diego would unfurl his middle finger.

For the 'can only move the eyes' square at badthingshappenbingo. Reginald's experiments have devastating consequences on Diego, but both he and Klaus refuse to let that be the end.

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Laid Bare by MilenaDaniels

“So,” Five continued matter-of-factly, “you’re in a cramped, human sized box, in a graveyard where you can’t see light or hear sounds. What are the odds that you’re above ground?”

Diego blinked. He thought he’d been smelling the iron of his blood pooling and drying under his head but it was humid in here, and musty.

“Fuck,” Diego said.

Diego and Klaus are buried alive together.

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Flies in the Kitchen by yourfearlessleader

Klaus is sixteen and love is a rot.

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Before, During, and After by yourfearlessleader

Before the apocalypse, life was making the best of a bad situation, and Klaus found that he grew up to be very good at it.

During is, for lack of a better word, hard.

After they try to kill Vanya, after the apocalypse, after they jump through time to avoid it, after they survive and make up and a million and one other things, here they are.

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break it like you're breaking a code by findyourfortunefalling

"Are you planning to sit in a chair like a person today, or are we all eating our breakfast off of you this morning?"

"Kinky," Klaus purrs, but he rolls off the table anyway, and piles himself into a seat near the head of the table. Diego puts the plate of pancakes in front of him; he's put blueberries in them today. "Thank you, chef."

"Eat," says Diego. "Quietly."

Instead of replying, Klaus picks up a pancake with his fingers, stuffs the entire thing into his mouth at once, and chews noisily.

Diego sighs, and goes back to the stove. "Man, I remember a time when you were house trained."

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two boys emerging from shadowed hallways by spikeymarshmallows

After Ben dies, Diego drags a broken Klaus out of the Academy. They're both determined to never return, to find their own way out in the world.

Things are not as easy as they would like.

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the things i can't say by  spikeymarshmallows

"Diego, wait!" Klaus shouted, clutching Diego's arm.

"You look like Antonio Banderas with long hair," he choked.

*

Five times Klaus doesn't say 'I love you'.

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Into the Night by  spikeymarshmallows

"Hey," Klaus whispered, "hey, Diego, wake up." Diego grumbled, dragging his blanket higher up his body before settling again. "Hey." Klaus tried again, voice a little louder. "Hey, wake up." He poked at Diego's arm insistently.

*

The Hargreeves siblings go on late night adventure to get doughnuts

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all tangled close by spikeymarshmallows

They were all going to have to deal with the pheromones for however long Klaus' first heat lasted.

Diego was, in a word, screwed.

*

Five times Diego and Klaus have heat sex; and one time they don't.

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the kliego genderswap/sexswap by spikeymarshmallows

The name speaks for itself.

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The Fools' Journey by sweetstuff

After his release from prison on a manslaughter charge, Diego tries to leave behind the life he adapted to survive on the inside. He finds himself drawn to a beautiful and peculiar sex worker named Klaus in a local bar, and when danger strikes Diego makes a decision that will have them both running for their lives.

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and death i think is no parenthesis by laiqualaurelote

“You guys seem really chill about all this,” observed Ben. “By this point most people are running around screaming.”

“Occupational hazard,” said Klaus.

“I’ve lost a lot of blood,” said Diego. “I’m just accepting everything at face value right now.”

Allison is the best damn realtor in the business, and she is going to sell the Hargreeves Mansion if it kills her. Never mind that it’s packed to the rafters with the ghastly relics of grisly murders, or that there’s a vampire in the basement who looks like a 13-year-old, or that the medium she hired to exorcise its inhabitants keeps flirting with some of them, i.e. the one with the knives and the one with the tentacles. Or that if they all spend enough time together, they just might cause the apocalypse.

NotSiblings!AU that is basically The Umbrella Academy as American Horror Story: Murder House, though you need not have seen any AHS to read this.

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i got troubles (they won't let me be) by antipathy

“I don’t understand why you’re hung up on this.” Five didn’t bother to mask his scowl. “Let me spell it out for you: either you two fuck, or we all die.”

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Eye Of The Storm by shadowhive

Diego decides to surprises Klaus by taking them on a weekend trip, but it doesn’t go as planned.

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Mine, All Mine by Electra_XT

“No!” Klaus said. “Move the other way.”

“What are you trying to get a good look at, exactly?” Diego said.

Klaus blinked at him. His eyes were wide and kohl-rimmed, as fetching and alluring as the rest of him. “Why, your ass,” he said. “That thing is fine.”

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On Sight by Electra_XT

“Oh,” Klaus said, stopping in his tracks with his hand on the mouse.

Ben leaned over his shoulder. “‘Cute Latino camboy gives a show’?”

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Practice Makes Perfect Sense by punk_rock_yuppie

“Practice… kissing?” Diego asks.

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Aftershocks by punk_rock_yuppie

Saving the world is hard work, is Klaus’ last thought before succumbing to the heat of the puppy pile he and his other siblings have formed.

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Passenger by Cunninglinguist

“And you’re sure that’s okay?”

“I mean, yeah. It’s fine with me. All we have to do is ask Diego.”

“And you think he’ll be...cool with it?”

“Dunno.” Klaus shrugs and stirs his smoothie with his straw. “But I’m on board with it, and he usually gets on board with whatever I’m on board with, so. I’d say it’s at least worth an ask.”

Klaus feels Ben’s eyes burning into him as he sips his beverage. Sure, the idea of Ben possessing him had initially been about as appealing as a coffee enema, and the first few times in practice had been more than slightly traumatizing. But once they’d established ground rules and worked to get more in tune with one another, Klaus had come to find the experience to be...interesting. It could be pleasant, almost zen—there is no sensation in the world quite like being a passenger in one's own body. And to be privy to both his own sensations as well as Ben’s? Well, that’s something else entirely.

Which is why the idea of Ben possessing his body during sex both freaks him out and turns him on in equal measure.

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i am a dark and wicked thing by Cunninglinguist

Klaus is staring at Diego with hollow eyes, straw still perched between his lips. No reaction, not even a spark of joy or schadenfreude as he watches Diego disrupt breakfast. Diego shifts. He’s seen corpses before, and were Klaus not sitting close enough to touch, chest rising and falling visibly with his breath, Diego could easily mistake him for one.

Vampire!Klaus AU

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The Diamond Sinners by Cunninglinguist

Another drink and a half later, he’s finally back on the right side of numb. The house lights dim and a new dancer is announced. He’s gazing across the club, eyeing the buffet with semi-tipsy hunger, thinking that it’s probably time to call it a night, when suddenly, his heart stops dead in his chest.

There, onstage, rolling his lithe body sensuously against the pole like he was summoned out of one of Diego’s wet dreams, is Klaus.

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Broken Like Me by Starrstruck_64

“This s-s-stuff will kill you,” he says plucking the cigarette out of Klaus’ fingers, delighting slightly in the fact that he’d only partially stumbled through the sentence.

Klaus smirks and it’s such a far cry from his fun loving brother he had two weeks ago that Diego nearly flinches.

“Ever stop and think that’s the plan,” Klaus says moving to stand and reaching to snag the cigarette back.

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sing it out, hard as you can by plingo_kat

The first time it happens, Klaus doesn’t notice.

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Soft by Dirty_Corza

Sometimes, between the boxing matches and vigilante business, Diego likes to be soft.

Klaus and Ben surprise him by liking the softer side of him, too.

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Wait for it by nishiki

A mission gone wrong, a dream shattered.

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all that i have to lose by UnrememberedSkies

Diego does some good, and Klaus pays the price. 

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wasp by Chelseylovesllamas

Diego is scared of bugs, Klaus saves the day.

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Friday at Four by Kliegology

Diego's life takes a nosedive when he's forced out of work and into an art therapy class. He's clinging to his last shred of normality when he meets Klaus, who takes one look at him and threatens to tear it away.

“I think you’ll find you have a lot in common with the other people there,” The Therapist said, watching him shrewdly.

Diego was vividly reminded of the jittery, barefoot man in the pink fluffy cardigan. He snorted. “I don’t think so.”

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[justletmeplayminecraft]

five times the hermits reassured xb his reputation doesn’t matter to them & one time they didn’t need to

another fic in @martuzzio‘s space outlaw au! this was a bit of an in-between whilst i prepped for a bigger project. this time: exploring xb and his feelings towards his false accusation.

featuring: xb needs hugs, i promise he gets them, me trying to feel out voices, lots of reassuring hermits, they’re a big family okay, xb is Not Okay with his bounty and the effects it causes, but they’re there to help, some cute kids, when you have problems: lie in a pool, its angst with comfort, the usual.

warnings: people are mean, panic attack, minor violence, less minor off-screen violence (mentioned gun violence, no details), low self image, self worth issues, bad decisions made whilst possibly dissociating, i swear its happy at the end.

1.

XB has never been one for public attention. He'd always been happy at his job. He minded his own business, enjoyed the research and helping people. Sometimes he even socialised with his co-workers, though that rarely extended outside of work. He lived a solitary life, away from the public eye, and he was happy with that. He had his lot. He didn't need anything else.

Then the accident happened and his world turned upside down.

Everything he'd built for himself, the comfortable life he'd made, fell apart at his feet. Suddenly he was to blame for the corruption of an entire planet. And he knew- he knew it wasn't really his fault. It was a complete mismanagement, barely even his department! But maybe if he'd paid more attention, worked faster, spoken out-

He can't change things now.

What followed was the most stressful period of his life. He watched as charges stacked up, already convicted in the public opinion. He went on the run, hiding on the half-dead planet and just trying to survive, really. He stopped keeping track of anything else, feeling sick as people demanded his head. His abilities saved him from two assassination attempts. He ran further, hid better.

Until he met the Hermits.

After all this time, he's not quite sure how he ended up joining them. He thought he was dead when he first caught sight of that emblem. This was it. The outside world had finally caught up. Then they helped him. Then he was on their ship. Then Xisuma was asking in a kind voice if he wanted to become one of them. A Hermit.

To tell the truth, if he knew the reaction it'd cause, he wouldn't have agreed. He would have said no, been dropped on a planet with a new identity, and gone on his way into obscurity. Instead, he said yes. He became a Hermit with a capital H. It felt good, at first. To be part of something like that. They had his back, they knew the situation.

The publicity didn't happen immediately. The Hermits were a smaller group back then. It took a short while until the rest of the universe caught up. Even now, he has no idea who first broke the story. One night, he falls asleep, lounging in the pool. In the morning he wakes up to a slander campaign.

Not against him. Against the Hermits. Because of him.

Hermits protecting planet destroyer, Hermits support massacre, Hermits criminal, Hermits, Hermits, Hermits, Him.

Joe is the one who finds him having a panic attack at the bottom of the pool. He's first aware of light touches against his skin, the water swirling in ways he doesn't expect. He opens his eye in a panic, but Joe is already shielding his face. He gestures a thumbs up and it takes all of XB's effort to remember what that means. He nods in a rush, realises Joe can't see that, and tugs him up instead.

They surface together. XB takes a strangled gasp of air, struggling lungs already unhappy. Joe guides him to the side, speaking firm instructions XB doesn't fully process but obeys all the same. Eventually, they sit at the edge of the pool. He can't feel the water around his legs. He can barely feel Joe's hand on his back, rubbing circles. He loses track of time completely.

Joe doesn't leave him.

He waits, his hand and unintelligible words a companion whilst XB fights for air. When XB can make out his counting, he tries to follow Joe's encouragement and take deep breaths. His heartbeat continues racing. He squeezes Joe's free hand tight.

Once he's finally confident enough, he mumbles, "Sorry." Joe makes an audible noise of disagreement. He places something cool in XB's hand. It takes sliding his finger around to realise it's his eye protection.

"Nothing to apologise for," Joe tells him. With his eye controlled, XB can finally see Joe's face. The Hermit is looking at him with a gentle calmness, water dripping from his skin and hair. Without the pounding in his ears, XB can hear them splash against the tiles. "I'm going to go out on one of Cleo's limbs here, and guess you saw the news." XB rubs at one of his fins with a nod.

"I shouldn't have joined you guys."

"I disagree," Joe replies. XB turns away. He kicks his legs just enough to create gentle ripples in the water.

"I've made a right mess of things. For everyone." Joe bloops, leaning onto his hand.

"Hardly more of a mess than before," he tells him. There's no doubt at all in his voice. No anger. "XB, you have to understand we knew what would happen when we took you on. We care about you. Not the opinions of the faceless masses. If we cared about that then we wouldn't get anything done." XB sighs, a drop of water falling from his fin.

"How can you be so calm about this?" He asks. He can't find anything else to say. Joe pats his back lightly.

"In the same way I was calm when False joined." He kicks his feet. "Things will be dramatic. It might feel like the end of the world. But sometimes you just have to trust Xisuma knows what he's doing. And I certainly think he did when he invited you." Joe pushes onto his feet, offering his hand for XB. XB takes it, trying not to use it too much. Joe is sturdy despite that. "This will pass," Joe encourages, "And you will always have a place here."

"That's a pretty bold statement." Joe doesn't let go of XB's hand. He leads them away from the pool, not caring about the trail of water as they go.

"And yet it's a true one." XB chooses to focus on the ground instead. He's...

He'll get back to Joe on that one.

2.

It's not often XB leaves the ship. He has one of the higher bounties out of all of them. Close to False's, and she actually deserves her's. He was terrified of her until she patiently taught him how to handle weapons, not once becoming frustrated as he struggled. She's still terrifying, but at least she's on his side.

Keralis was the one who pestered him out this time. The promise of buying extra fruit had tempted him into the supply run. He just needed a partner in crime (no leaving the ship without one) and pretty please, XB, pretty please?

So now XB is stood in the middle of a store, scanning the shelves and checking his half of the shopping list. He worries his lip, standing and catching a woman staring at him out of the corner of his eye. He continues searching, but her stare doesn't let up. He finally turns.

"Um, excuse me?" He asks, tilting his head in genuine concern. "Are you-" He doesn't expect her to surge forward, fury written on her face.

"If you weren't with those filthy Hermits I'd have you." The woman shoves his chest, forcing his back against the shelves. He blinks, fins flicking in defence.

"Wha-?"

"You go and you murder an entire planet. Don't show a bit of remorse. Then you run and hide behind them like a coward." XB can feel eyes on him now, the entire store falling silent at the exchange. He thinks he might be trembling. He can't quite tell. The woman is up in his face. His hand itches to take his eye protection off, gently put her to sleep and run. But there's witnesses, there's so many people and- "Maybe I should just do it right now. Consequences be damned." Her fingernails scratch into his armour, and he nearly falls as she pulls him forward.

"Oh, wow wow wow wow wow, ma'am." XB has never been more relieved to see Keralis. He steps in between them, blocking her from taking XB any further. "Could you unhand my friend, please? You're not being very nice." To XB's horror, she doesn't, nearly dragging him into Keralis as she gestures.

"What authority do you have?" She demands. "Defending a murderer like this, you should be ashamed of yourself." Keralis holds his hands up, ears twitching very slightly.

"XB is a perfectly good person. No murderer in him. And we'd like to leave, please." There's a threatening hint to Keralis's usually bright tone. The hand around his arm is finally released.

She storms away with a shout of, "You'll get what's coming to you!" XB's legs jellify beneath him. Keralis is quick to get an arm around his shoulders, holding him up.

"Come on, back to the ship with you. That's enough adventure for today." XB nods, resting briefly on Keralis's shoulders. With a bit of effort, he keeps himself steady enough to follow Keralis out of the store. He tries to ignore the eyes that follow them, the tightness it causes in his chest.

"What about the shopping?" His voice is quiet even to him. Keralis shakes his head.

"It's okay. Shishwamy will send someone else to do it. No worries." XB tries to let that comfort him but it only makes his anxiety worse. Once again, things are messed up because of him. This will put them off schedule, someone else will need to come out, and they'll all know it's because of him.

"Maybe," he starts, hesitating and continuing. "Maybe I shouldn't wear my suit when I come out." Keralis chirps in concern, keeping them at the edge of the busy streets.

"And why do you say that?" XB looks at his arm, at the deep colours and intricate patterns and mechanisms that make up the suit.

"It might be easier if people don't like, associate me with the Hermits when I'm in public." Keralis frowns, a big expression on his face. He squeezes the arm around XB's shoulders.

"XB, sweetiepie-" Keralis nudges his head against XB's. The hair tickles enough to make him gently laugh. "-If you don't want to wear your suit for your own safety, that's okay! But don't you go taking it off because you're afraid of making us look bad. No siree! You're a Hermit, XB, and we love you."

"That doesn't change people's opinions of me." Opinions so strong they're willing to threaten him in daylight, and nobody steps in. Keralis chitters.

"Doesn't change people's opinion of me either! But I know they won't be upset if we have to avoid a planet, or I can't attend a meeting. We care about you. And I'm sure there's lots of people out there who care about you too." XB can't bring himself to respond to that. He knows Keralis is discriminated against for being a banshee. But it's just...

It's not the same as being blamed for destroying an entire planet.

XB doesn't go out in public again for nearly a year.

3.

"I can't believe this," Doc announces as he storms into the room. XB twitches, instinctively listening whilst he tries to focus on his book. He's tucked in the corner of the common room, buried in beanbags and mostly out of sight. He can see the wall of Cleo's hair move as she looks up.

"What's happened this time?" She asks, placing her book on the table. She moves her legs so Doc can sit down. It's been a busy few months for the ship. They've had new additions. Doc is one of them. He's fallen quickly into helping Xisuma with negotiations, managing their various relationships with other groups. XB is kinda terrified of him, actually. But he trusts Xisuma and his judgement. He wouldn't do anything to put them in danger.

"A group has dropped their support of us because of the latest drama." Doc collapses into the seat, leaning into the cushions. "I can't believe it, man." XB presses his mouth together, his fins pressing back. The latest drama being people remembering he exists as a Hermit. Some news came out about the planet he- he didn't destroy. He's been avoiding going online but, apparently it's inescapable.

"Seriously?" Cleo asks. She scowls behind her hair. "That's so stupid." Doc hums his agreement.

"I just don't get it." He throws his robotic hand up as he talks, leaning towards Cleo. "I mean, I've barely seen the guy, but he doesn't seem that bad. Not bad enough to make a campaign like this." XB swallows. He puts his book down in favour of squeezing his hands into his robe. Cleo sighs, nodding.

"He really isn't. I don't know why they keep dragging it up." She grabs one of her legs, pulling it up close to her. She leans on her knee. "You should've seen him when he first joined, Doc. Guy looked ready to accept his death."

"He doesn't even look capable of doing that to a planet-" XB almost chokes, standing and abandoning his book entirely.

"Sorry I'm- I'm just leaving." He wraps his arms around himself, ready to stumble out of the room.

Cleo is faster, jumping up and grabbing his arm, pulling him back with a stern, "XB." She pushes him between them, sitting him down and reclaiming her spot. XB ducks his head, tucking his legs up in front of him.

"XB, sorry man, I didn't realise you were in here." Doc sounds apologetic. He's looking at XB with worry, sat a careful distance away to avoid crowding him in. XB still finds him a frightening sight. The un-moving robotics bore into him.

"It's okay," he murmurs, wrapping his arms around his knees. "I would've found out eventually." Doc frowns.

"I meant talking about you like you weren't here," Doc says. "I'm not usually a gossip. Though I would've preferred to tell you more sensitively."

"If we knew they were gonna drop us over some false allegations, X wouldn't have allied with them to start with," Cleo tells him, crossing her arms as she sinks back.

"They don't really know it's false though," XB points out. "I mean, it's not like this isn't a ship of criminals." He can't help his glance at Doc as he says it. Thankfully, the former mafia leader takes no offence.

"I barely know you, XB, and even I can tell it's stupid." Doc's accented voice portrays his emotions well. "You seem like you've been a big help to the Hermits."

"He has been." Cleo pokes his legs with her foot. “You're a Hermit through and through, XB. No escaping it now."

"Everybody here has only good things to say about you, man. I'm proud to call you a crew mate. Who cares what anyone else thinks?" XB smiles, relaxing more onto his knees. It's nice to hear but-

He cares.

4.

XB sighs as he flicks his fins back, fitting his helmet on snug and letting them pop into place. Keralis had to dip last minute, so XB is going to this meeting instead. He's not particularly intimidating, but hopefully he'll be able to defuse the situation if needs must. Two of the newer Hermits are coming as well. He watches as they suit up, making an odd pair. XB still isn't sure what to think of the group. Python vouched for them, but ex-Convex members? Especially such high ranking ones? And now one of them is going to a negotiation with them? Right.

"Is everybody ready?" Xisuma asks. There's a chorus of affirmatives. Doc stands next to Xisuma, files under his arms. "Let's get moving, then."

They keep as a tight unit, going over the plan once more. Xisuma and Doc will be doing the negotiating. XB and Wels, the other new Hermit, are there for protection. Scar, the ex-Convex, is there for luck. XB doesn't get it, and he's not going to ask.

The meeting falls apart from the moment they arrive, really. The crew they're meeting turn and whisper to each other, too quiet for XB's translator to pick up. Their admin steps forward, slit eyes threatening.

"You insult us," XB's suit translates. He can see Xisuma's suit plating shift as he tenses. He speaks in their language.

"I'm afraid I don't know where you're coming from," he replies, his voice controlled even in translation. Their admin steps closer. Any other person would've stepped away. Xisuma stands firm, Doc coming to his side.

"You bring a Convex member and a planet destroyer to our meeting." XB twitches, wanting nothing more than to sneak out of the room. "It is bad enough you grant them safety, but to have them in our negotiation?"

"Scar has denounced Convex, and the allegations against XB are false." Xisuma's voice is level, his posture not showing a hint of weakness. "Do you wish to negotiate or should we end this meeting here?"

"I recommend you leave with your lives while you can." XB shudders, fighting to stay still. He's thankful the helmet hides his expression.

"I recommend you don't threaten my crew." The temperature in the room drops with Xisuma's voice. The other admin steps back, eyeing them suspiciously. Xisuma turns to the Hermits, keeping an eye on the opposing crew. He nods. "We'll take our leave."

They exit at that, all of them keeping a watch that they aren't followed onto the ship. It's only when the door closes behind them that they relax. Wels darts to Scar's side. The ex-Convex collapses against the wall, trembling in his hold. XB looks away. That feels like something private. Definitely not something he'd expect from ex-Convex.

Apparently he's considered equivalent to the Convex. The thought makes him dizzy. Doc and Xisuma are already talking in low voices, recounting what happened and planning their next steps. XB is incredibly out of place. He glances around the room, trying not to feel jealous when he sees how close Scar and Wels are, how gentle Wels sounds, their helmets pressed together. XB swallows and slips out of the entrance hall before any of them notice.

He ignores anyone he passes until he reaches his room, closing the door behind him. His armour comes off, and he dives into the pool in the adjoining space. He sighs, lying face down in the water, barely feeling the fabric layer he left on. The liquid is a friendly pressure. Something comforting after all of... This. No matter what happens, he'll always have water.

Time passes as he lies there, blocking out the world outside the water. He tries not to think about how he's messed things up again. There isn't much else to think about, though. He doesn't understand why the Hermits keep him around when he causes so many problems. Lost deals, alliances, constant bad publicity. All tied to one person. Wouldn't it be easier to cut him off? XB could manage. Maybe he should do it for them.

"XB?" He jumps at the sound of an opening door, instinctively reaching up to cover his eye.

"Eye!" He calls, hearing the footsteps stop.

"Oh," Hypno's voice calls back. "Hold on, dude." XB follows the movement around his bedroom, until an object is placed in his hands with a pat. "There you go." XB pulls it over his eye, checking it's secure before looking. Hypno's crouched in front of him. He smiles, waving his fingers.

"How'd you know I was here?" XB asks, resting at the edge of the pool. Hypno sits down, not complaining about the wet floor.

"Guessed," he admits with a shrug. "They were worried when they realised you'd vanished." XB sighs, resting his chin on his arms.

"They seemed busy."

"Well, they are." Hypno nods in agreement. He crosses his legs so he can lean towards XB. "Xisuma doesn't want to stick around in case that crew turns hostile. But he was still worried about you."

XB frowns, "There's nothing to worry about."

"Is that why you're hiding in your pool?" Hypno asks. It's clearly not a question. XB slouches back into the water. "XB, it's not your fault, dude. You can't keep blaming yourself."

"Then who do I blame?" XB can't help but sound grouchy. If it weren't for him then that meeting might have worked out. Maybe they would've been fine with just Scar. Hypno leans back as he counts on his hand.

"The company for not taking responsibility, the management that decided to frame you, the other employees who were complicit, the news companies that were likely paid off, the ones that latched onto the story without researching it, the ones that keep bringing it up for quick clicks." Hypno turns to look at him. "Do I need to keep going?" XB shakes his head.

"I think I get the message," he replies. "But I'm not sure if it helps." Hypno nods without judgement.

"Then what do you think will?" He tries, instead. XB partially closes his eye to think about it.

"I'm not really sure." Hypno rubs his shoulder. The texture of dry skin helps ground him.

"That's okay." Hypno’s voice is friendly, reassuring. XB knows he's turned this into an impromptu therapy session. He thinks he needs it. "How about we try to work it out together? You're my friend, XB. I want you to be happy with us. I don't want you to feel guilty over things that aren't your fault." Hypno holds a hand out. "So, are you willing to work with me?" XB smiles, kicking up to meet his hand.

"Yeah. I think I can give it a shot."

5.

They'd been outside, spending some time in the sunshine of the planet, then somebody-

XB squeezes his fins, continuing to pace the corridor outside the infirmary. Stress has closed the windows, needing to focus, and XB doesn't want to make anything worse. This is all his fault. Hypno's lying in there having emergency surgery because somebody wanted to kill XB. He finally falls against one of the walls as his legs give way, sliding to the floor with a quiet noise.

He formulates a plan in his head.

He's already been distant lately. This was the first time he'd hung out with Hypno in weeks, and look at what's happened. He can't be friends with people if he's going to hurt them. They'll understand. He hopes they'll understand.

He takes a deep breath.

His memories of the next hour are faint. He packs essentials into a bag. Leaves his suit and communicator neatly on his bed. He takes the emergency savings he keeps tucked away in his drawer, counting through without really taking it in. Though he writes a note, he doesn't remember what it contains. He thinks he stood in the doorway for a few minutes. Used some time to take in the room he's called home for so many years now. He really can’t remember.

Then he sneaks out, carefully unscrewing panels in the water filtration system, replacing them with care. He knows it like the back of his hand. He installed it, after all. The drop from the ship hurts his leg but nothing in his head registers it. He's lucky this is a big enough planet to park her. Means it'll be so much easier to get lost.

He wraps himself up in a coat, pulling it over his features. Some small part of him can't believe he's doing this. The Hermits are all he's known for years. They're his friends. But that's why it's so important he leaves. He survived on his own before. He can do it again.

He finds a room in a hotel for the night. The robotic receptionist doesn't question who he is, accepting the money and giving him the door key. He collapses onto the bed in a heap, realising he has no idea what he's going to do next. His plan kind of trails off here. Perhaps he'll hide out in this hotel until the ship leaves, but that's wasting money. It's probably better to head out for supplies, and get on a ship as far away as possible.

For today, he's exhausted enough to curl up under the covers and hide from the world. It doesn’t feel like he’s part of it right now, anyway.

There's a knock at the door.

He sighs, burying his face into the pillow. The knock only gets more insistent. Realistically, it's either the Hermits or somebody who's here to kill him. The fact they've not broken down the door yet suggests the Hermits. Well, the more responsible ones. XB keeps a hand on his eye strap either way. He's still in the rumpled coat.

He'll admit, he's surprised to see Xisuma in the doorway. The admin is wearing a cloak, his shadowed eyes nearly glowing in the darkness. He looks tired. When doesn’t he?

"Can I come in?" Xisuma asks, keeping his voice quiet. XB nods, stepping aside. If only because X should not be stood out in the corridor of some hotel in the same town someone tried to kill XB half a day earlier.

"I hope you're not here on your own," XB tells him, sitting on the bed. Xisuma finds a chair by the desk, sitting down tidily.

"Some of the others are nearby," Xisuma replies. "They checked it was safe first. Out of concern for you, as well." XB leans against the wall. "Hypno is okay, by the way. He was asking after you." XB sighs, tucking away into the coat.

"You're trying to make me feel guilty."

Xisuma shakes his head, "I'm letting you know. He was worried. We all were."

"He could have died because of me," XB doesn't try hiding it. Not from himself.

"Were you the one who shot him?" Xisuma asks. There's no change from his gentle tone.

"No, but-"

"Then you weren't the reason." XB knows, logically, that's true. He wasn't the one who fired on him. He didn't frame himself, all those years ago. It's just hard to prove that in his head. Not when the consequences are right in front of him. When he’s spent so long thinking about everything he could’ve done differently.

"It feels like I am," he says, tilting forward on the bed. "I don't want to make the people around me unsafe anymore. Any of the Hermits." Xisuma nods, sitting up in the chair.

"If you want to leave, I won't stop you." XB swallows. He really can just leave. Just... Go. "But I want you to consider if that's what you want to do. Not because you want to protect us. We can protect ourselves. Do you want to leave?" XB digs his fingers into his leg.

"I'm not sure." Does he want to leave? He wants to keep the others safe. He wants to stop giving the Hermits his bad reputation. But they're still his friends. His family. He doesn't want to leave them, but he doesn't see a compromise.

"XB." He automatically looks to Xisuma when he says his name. "I am truly sorry I never addressed this with you before. I'm sorry it's been affecting you for so long."

"It's not your fault," XB replies. Xisuma shakes his head.

"I should have done more for you. And I'm willing to offer that now." XB’s fins twitch in confusion. "What do you say we try and clear your name?"

"You don't need to do that for me."

"I want to. The others want to." Xisuma crosses the room, sitting down in front of XB. "That's what I'm offering. You can stay with us. We want you to stay with us. And we'll help you achieve this. However we can."

"Nothing that would put you in danger," XB corrects.

"Nothing that would put the Hermits in danger," Xisuma agrees. XB shuts his eye, considering what that would mean for him. It's not like everyone would believe it. It's not going to solve all his problems. But it's a start. He can't just- keep feeling guilty forever. He's so tired of it. "You're family, XB. We want you happy." XB nods, leaning forward. His body is heavy with relief. Xisuma welcomes him into his arms.

"Okay," he agrees, "I want the same."

+1

XB pauses at the sound of loud shouting coming from the park. He turns, watching Keralis jump to the fence delighted. Hypno laughs, gently pulling XB to watch.

"You can't get me!" A girl yells, dark cornrows pulled into a bun. She climbs onto the play equipment, standing with confidence at the top. Another girl runs to the ladder, her hand held in mimic of a gun. Her blonde hair is done in a braid.

"You can't run forever!" She follows it up with loud 'pew's, hanging off the ladder as she pretends to shoot.

"Yeah, I can put you to sleep!" Another boy climbs up the slide, his brown hair falling into his eyes. Keralis is chirping in excitement, watching with a wide smile. The chirps attract the attention of the blonde. She gasps, losing her grip on the ladder and falling backwards.

Keralis makes a surprised noise. He jumps the fence, rushing to the girl's side. XB doesn't see any parents around, following with Hypno.

"Hey, little madam, are you okay?" Keralis asks, crouching down by the girl. She sits up, bouncing forward with glee.

"You're Hermits!" She cries, voice high and squeaky. The other two kids are peering at them around the play equipment. Their mouths hang open.

"We are!" Keralis agrees. "And what's your name?" The girl's hands spread out across the spongy playground floor.

"I'm Flora!" She grins. "I like it 'cause it starts with an 'F', like False." Keralis nods, offering his hands to stand the girl up again. She wobbles on her feet, spinning to show off her plait. “And we have the same hair colour! It’s so cool!”

"Yeah, False is really cool, isn't she?" Keralis watches with a carefully controlled smile. It’s cute how he tries not to scare them. She jumps, holding her arms out wide.

"She's so cool! She's my favourite."

"Not as cool as Stress!" The other girl calls, running into her friend's back. She nearly sends them both sprawling over again. "She helps people, no matter what! I want to do that." Hypno joins Keralis, pulling XB over with him.

"A very noble cause," Hypno tells her. "I'm sure you'll be amazing." She puts her hands on her hips with a grin.

"Yeah. I'm gonna be the best doctor you've ever seen."

"Yeah, but Stress doesn't have four arms," Flora points out, mimicking each style of weaponry. "How cool would that be?" Keralis laughs, a series of cheerful chirps escaping with it.

"They're both cool, how about that?" He suggests, before it turns into a full argument.

"What about you?" Hypno encourages, holding an arm out for the boy. "Do you have a favourite?"

"His favourite is XB," the dark haired girl says, pointing at him. XB places a hand on his chest, unable to contain a squeak of surprise.

"Me?" He checks, not quite able to believe that. The three nod their heads. They peer up at him in a semi-circle, with bright eyes and curious faces.

"You can put people to sleep like Hypno-" the boy points at him, "-But you got such a cool backstory!"

"Mm-hm!" Flora nods quickly. "Framed by an evil company, joining the Hermits to do good across the universe!" She poses towards the sky, pumping her fist and bending a leg up. XB laughs softly, finding himself hiding behind his hand.

"Oh, oh, oh!" The boy jumps forward, looking between Hypno and XB. "Can you put us to sleep? That would be so cool!" Hypno laughs at that, joined by Keralis's squeaky giggles.

"I don't think that would be smart." He pats the boy's hair, smiling at XB. "But, if you've got something for us to sign, we could do that?" The girl claps, grabbing Flora's hands excitedly.

"We've got our cards!" She shrieks. She grabs the boy's hand. "Ben, come on, let's get them!" The trio run off across the playground, digging in their bags. XB can see the look Hypno and Keralis are giving him. He smiles, ducking his head in embarrassment.

"Don't you two start," he warns, hiding behind his hands. Keralis leans over, gently wiggling one of XB's fins.

"You're his favourite," he teases, voice sing-song. XB laughs, hiding even further.

"Noooo," he whines. Hypno puts his arm around XB's shoulders, pulling him into a side hug.

"And they're smarter than the press," he tells XB, his voice trying to sound serious, but playful all the same.

"Much, much smarter!" Keralis agrees.

"Only 'cause of you guys," XB reminds them. Keralis takes XB’s other side, pinning him between his friends.

“Nah.” Keralis rubs his fist against XB’s head. “You’re just finally getting the love you deserve.”

“Absolutely.” Hypno tilts around so XB can see his smile. XB ducks his head, embarrassed. But the feeling doesn’t leave him. Not as they talk to the kids, signing their cards and telling them (child friendly) stories of their travels. Or amongst the loudness of the other Hermits. His family. He’s a Hermit. And the people who care about him are the ones who matter.

[matchstickmobster]

[ Warnings: Torture, blood, gore, castration ]

Most business owners and associates tended to think that Reno being an easy going guy meant they could be just as easy going with stiffing him in business. Like being ‘easy going’ also meant he was an easy mark, which of course, forced him to make special examples to remind them that they had certain obligations owed to him.

He’d only had to make a public message once before. That’d been bad business, but his switch from friendliness to calm and calculated violence had shocked all the parties involved - so much so he hadn’t even had to do much and he still came out of that mess with a reputation as a genial wild-card. His relations with those business owners had never quite been the same, but they’d been wonderfully cooperative ever since. It was a good trade-off in his books. But this time, this message was going to be a hard one.

He had never actually done anything like this before. At most he’d roughed someone up. Maybe cut a few fingers off. Sliced up a man’s back or broke a leg. He’d even participated in a few discipline lynchings against other members who wanted to leave the gang or needed to be reminded their place.

What he’d never done was never strap a man down with the intention of putting the hurt in him so badly that the crazy went into him. He’d seen it- once before, many years ago when he was holding the Boss’ coat and everyone had forgotten that he was even there.

There was this one guy that Nagant and previous underbosses went to when they wanted to get some real dirty work done. A professional that knew what he was doing with the coldness of a guy who didn’t even have the emotion to get off on it later. The sort that was a little broken- like a fridge that froze everything together. That’d been an interesting night that Reno couldn’t forget- even if he’d wanted to.

It’d been real educational.

Reno stared down at Shin- The crying, sweaty brotherhood associate they’d dragged from the car to the warehouse. The same man who’d hired a group of common thugs to rob a select chain of businesses under Nagant’s ownership to cover up his own dirty fingertips sneaking into funds that should have been given to the Boss.

When he’d rebound Shin to the chair, he’d strapped his fat arms to the wide metal armrests at the sides, palm down. It made things a lot easier when Reno drew a balisong out of his pocket and cut off the man’s smallest finger. It rolled off and bounced a few times as it hit the floor and disappeared underneath the seat.

The red-head mulled over his choices, spreading various items out on the concrete floor. Pliers. Wire. Hand drill. Some of those little dental tools. He waited for the screaming to stop and for Shin to pay attention again, gesturing to one of the enforcers Nagant had put under his leadership. They grabbed the bound man by the jaw and forced him to watch Reno as he picked up his choice.

“Oh, don’t worry. You’ll be alive, if you really wanna call it living. I read some history books a few years back, real brutal shit. Capital punishments n’ stuff. You wouldn’t believe how popular castration was- ‘cept earlier on, it pretty much resulted in death because the most complicated tools they ever used were these big ol’ rocks. So, I asked around about what actual vets and like farmers do since that’s pretty common in their line of work. Banding and cutting has too high a chance of havin’ the animal bleed out, requires too steady a hand and even if the person doin’ it’s got experience, one wrong move can pretty much screw up the whole process. That’s why they made this type of device… to crush the blood vessels. The worst that happens is serious nerve damage, if sterility isn’t completely induced during the procedure.”

He turned the metal pliers-like device this way and that, opening and closing the head by squeezing the hand grips. Letting the horror sink in and savoring how Shin’s little lizard brain was clearly beginning to spiral into a panic.

“Do you know why doctors opt out for the more invasive surgical procedure rather than use one’a these little beauties on a human patient? While the risks of blood loss and infection are low, this burdizzo causes blunt force trauma to the spermatic cords- Which are thickly wrapped in nerve fibres. And we don’t got no anesthesia, so… Let’s just say you’re in for a bad time.”

By the time he’d finished working on Shin, Reno had certainly built up a bit of a sweat. Dropping the castration tool on the ground, he pushed himself to his feet and took out a handkerchief to wipe at his forehead and the nape of his neck.

“I’d say that went well. Ya satisfied, Boss?” he asked, pivoting on his heel to meet Nagant’s piercing gaze.

“I can always cut off his hands and tongue if you want, but… I don’t think he’ll be runnin’ to the authorities anytime soon. I suppose it’d be the safer option, though it’s yer call.”

“Please-” the crumpled, huddled mass of bruised and bleeding flesh sobbed.

“Please…”

Reno stooped to one knee, cradling the back of Shin’s neck almost gently- Smiling even. Then he sliced off an ear and fed it to one of the big-ass slathering dogs, held inches away on heavy chains by the other members of his family.

The only family he’d ever need.

[rpd-rookie]

Under Her Extra-Large Umbrella - Chris Redfield x Reader (Final Part)

Summary: Umbrella is about to send Nemesis to hunt and kill the surviving members of the S.T.A.R.S. You must warn Chris before it’s too late.

Author’s note: This is the last chapter. It’s very angsty but I like how it came out. Hope you’ll like it as much as I liked writing it. 

Part 1 is available here / Part 2 is here 

Warnings: Angst, Death, Violence, Language.

                 Horror struck you. It froze each and every limb of your body, making you unable to move even an eyelash as a cold eerie sensation crawled down your spine. You couldn’t look away from it and it seemed like it couldn’t look away from you either. That face, deformed and scraggy, barely covered in a thin layer of shredded pale skin, staring at you with a single veiled white eye in which no emotion could be read. It was terrifying. An atrocity. And you had made it. And yet, it seemed that your impression was far from unanimous as every scientist around you was looking at the corpse-like creature caged in a pod of amniotic liquid with a bloodcurdling fascination, their eyes gleaming with joy and admiration.

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I present you the new generation of Tyrant, the Nemesis T-Type.”                 Loud applause accompanied by a torrent of compliments instantly made Doctor Rochois smile with pride. “This new Bio Organic Weapon will revolutionize combat in ways our previous Tyrants would have never been able to. Capable of intelligence and self-awareness, the Nemesis T-type is programmed to obey every command and adapt itself as well as his tactics to the conditions surrounding him and he won’t abandon until his task is completed. He is completely infallible and, let’s say it, indestructible.” People started whispering their awe after this latest remark. Certainly were they already imagining the six zeros on their future pay check. It disgusted you. “And as I’m speaking, this specimen that you’re looking at right now is about to be deployed in Raccoon City.”

Your eyes widened in shock and you stared at the creature once again, completely petrified. “Chris.” You whispered as worry tied your stomach in a painful knot.                 “Ladies and Gentlemen, as you must all know by now, in July our lab in the Arklay Mountains was breached, causing a small viral outbreak in the region of Raccoon City that we managed to control, not to worry. But we cannot allow the secrets that escaped with the virus to be revealed to the public eye. We cannot let the S.T.A.R.S unit compromising our future. As our founder Oswell E. Spencer once said, Umbrella is God! We are gods creating a new world with an advanced race of human beings! Evolution is in our hands. The future of mankind in his our hands and we cannot let the hubris of a stupid unit of police sabotage all this. In Greek mythology, the Gods sent the goddess Nemesis to punish arrogant humans. Now it’s our turn to send our Nemesis to destroy the S.T.A.R.S!” His speech was like a powerful and belligerent war cry, followed by a thunderous applause that rumbled as loudly as his words in the lab and yet that sounded like a mere murmur when Nemesis growled in his pod like an enraged beast, showing his sharp long teeth. “STAAAAAARRRRS!”           God, what have you done?

                 His watch had just stricken 10pm when Chris put down his pen on the desk of his hotel room, reading the letter he had just finished to write. He had hoped he would have found a certain catharsis in writing down his feelings. But apparently there was no way of extricating the pain out of him just yet.

                                                     “Dear Jill,                

                 Perhaps it is a bit risky to send you this letter but I don’t know anyone else I could write this to. You’re the only one who’s not afraid to kick my ass and tell me the truth when needed.                     I screwed up, Jill. Completely fucked up. And I think I lost myself too. I lied to this girl, used her to my own benefits and did things that are so unlike me. Sure my plan worked in the end, just not the way I intended (not so surprising I know). And now that I’m that close to obtain what I wanted, I’m not so sure I want it anymore. At least not like that. And I feel awful.                        It’s tearing me apart because I know that finishing what I started could bring closure and peace to what happened to us but, at the same time, I would hate myself forever for it.                   If he were here, I know my father would tell me to do what’s right. But I don’t know what’s right anymore.                   What should I do, Jill? Tell me, please.

                 Love,

                 Chris”

Chris folded the letter and placed it in an envelope addressed to Jill and Jill only. If only he could place all his sorrow in it as well. He was sure his best friend would be able to find a way to get rid of it all instead of letting it grow the way he was letting it grow each time his eyes were laying upon the badge on the table before him, this ridiculous thing that had caused so much pain and an awful betrayal. All this for that?               “Fuck!!” He growled as he impulsively grabbed the object to throw it across the room.                   It slammed against the wall and fell onto the ground, closely followed by a glass of whisky - that exploded in a thousand of tiny pieces the second it touched the wall - and his wooden chair that smashed against the cast iron radiator, almost breaking the gas pipe in the process.                   Chris always had a temper. Even he couldn’t deny it. It actually had caused him some trouble in his short career especially in the Air Force. “Mind your temper, son.” He had been told him more than once. But that was a piece of advice Chris had never followed. And maybe that’s why his career in the military had been short, why he had resigned.                   Because yes, Chris knew how to resign. He knew how and when to quit. He knew nothing in the world was worth his integrity and honour. So why hadn’t he be able to stop this manipulation? Had he really sunk that low? Had he truly become what he had always hated?                

                 A loud knock at the door echoed in the room. Chris sighed and went to open it, expecting the manager of the hotel and his permanent sulk to be waiting on the doormat, ready to scold him for making so much noise. As he opened the door, he couldn’t be more wrong or more surprised. “Y/N?”           Dressed in your work clothes, you were standing before him trying to keep the composure you had somehow successfully managed to gain on your way here. “Now is a bad time?” You quickly glanced inside the room, spotting all the mess Chris had done. Guess that explained the noises you had heard from the corridor. “No. No. Absolutely not. Come in.” He stepped aside to let you in and you entered his room, rubbing you hands together in discomfort. A gesture Chris noticed immediately but couldn’t blame you for. The situation was indeed more than awkward. “If I knew you would come I would have …”         “Clean?” You asked, almost with a mocking smile. “Come on Chris, we both know it’s not your forte.” The man chuckled breathlessly unsure if the rebuke was meant to hurt or to be funny. Maybe both.         “I wasn’t expecting you. That’s it.” He rushed to quickly pick up his chair for you to sit on it but as soon as he placed it back next to his desk it crumbled onto the floor like a mere stack of wood. “Yep. That’s definitely broken. Why don’t you sit on the bed?”   “I’m not staying.” You announced and a single disappointed ‘oh’ escaped Chris’ lips. Clearly you weren’t here to fix things between the two of you. “I just came here to give you this.”

You opened your handbag and slowly handed him a notebook that Chris immediately recognized. It was your diary, the one he had read in secret, the one that contained all the information about your work and about what was going on in Umbrella’s French lab. And here you were, willingly giving it to him without hesitation or second thought. “Why?” Chris frowned, not understanding what was happening.       “Umbrella is planning something bad.” Your words made the young man shiver in fear. He could feel the familiar sensation crawling in his entire body, freezing it, paralysing it as nightmarish memories flashed back in his head, memories from the mansion, memories of his fallen colleagues and friends. Not again. “They’re planning on releasing their new creation in Raccoon City to hunt your friends from the S.T.A.R.S.” “Nemesis?” Chris asked to make sure that the new creation you were talking about was the one he had read about in your notebook. When you nodded, he took a deep breath to keep his heart from exploding in fear and rage in his chest.                   “And it won’t stop until they’re all dead. That’s what it has been programmed for.” You added and noticed Chris’s grip furiously tighten around your notebook. An understandable reaction you had been expecting since the moment you had decided to come here to tell him all about Umbrella’s latest plans.       “When are they going to do that?” He calmly asked through his gritted teeth that showed that the composure he was desperately trying to keep was on the verge of bursting.                   “I don’t know but very soon and we won’t be able to stop them. But there is something in this diary that might help you or your friends. I gathered every single piece of information about Nemesis in this notebook including his weaknesses. Plus it contains enough evidence to bring Umbrella down. I’m sure you’ll know what to do with it.”

Chris’ eyes widened, shocked yet amazed by your decision. He had never expected you to do this, not for him, not after everything that had happened between the two of you, not after what he had done. But despite the unconditional thankfulness he was feeling right now, he couldn’t help but worry about you as he dared imagine the consequences of your selfless act.  “But you …”     “I’m ready to take my responsibilities. I always was. Despite what you may think.” The rebuke hurt and Chris was sure that was its purpose. After all, the last time you two had talked he had said terrible things and had accused you of horrors that were not all necessarily true.     “ Y/N, I …” He sighed and you briefly looked down, refusing to see a pity you did not deserve veiling his beautiful brown eyes. Things were already hard enough.                                   “No, Chris. You were right.” You admitted. “I created a monster. And I can’t live with myself knowing that what I did might endanger people …or worse. I trust you and I know you’ll do the right thing.”                   You cupped his cheek, letting go to a surge of affection - probably the last – for this man who, despite his many wrongs and the heartbreak he had caused you, had enchanted your life in ways no other man would have.                 Chris welcomed your touch, accepting the tender caress as his heart broke. He hadn’t behaved like the most righteous man lately. He had betrayed you, lied to you, abused your trust and still you were here, telling him you were trusting him to do the right thing, giving him a sort of second chance he was certain he didn’t deserve. And yet, only one answer came to his mind.                   “I will.” He promised.

You had a brief sad smile before pressing your lips of his cheek, right in the corner of his pink lips. This was a goodbye kiss and it lingered on his face as long as it could just to be sure you would remember the taste and the woody perfume of his skin. “Take care of yourself, Chris.” You whispered, still close to him, your hand on his strong jaw.       “You too, Y/N.�� Chris murmured back, squeezing your hand so tenderly it made you smile. And you managed to let go of him happy to leave knowing there was no resentment between the two of you, but also and mostly relieved. You had done the right thing and that felt so good, like a heavy pain lifted off your chest.     You turned around and headed towards the door, feeling Chris’ gaze on you. “Y/N?” He called out and you stopped on your tracks to look at him one last time over your shoulder. He seemed sad, almost guilty and it crushed you. You didn’t want him to be hurt. He was a good man and he had suffered enough. “My feelings for you were real.” He confessed.               Was it an attempt to make you stay? An attempt to make you run to his arms and kiss him with all the love you had for him? Or simply a desire to part on something real and true and forget all the lies and the treachery? You didn’t ask. You couldn’t ask just like you couldn’t rush into his arms. You knew you would never leave if you did. “I know.” You put your hand on the knob, ready to leave, mixed feelings of happiness and sadness tightening your stomach. It would soon disappear. At least that’s what you dared to hope.

But all hopes flew away when you suddenly felt the door tremble in its frame. The latch clinked in the deadbolt, again and again you let go of the knob to take a step back. You looked back at Chris who was staring at you in incomprehension but as soon as he saw the fear in your eyes he rushed towards his bed to take the gun he had hidden under the mattress. “Stand back.” He ordered as he pushed you behind him to shield you from whatever was coming.         The tremor became louder as if it was getting closer. And it was. It started echoing in the entire room, making the crystal pearls of the chandelier above your head jingle loudly and the walls shake all around you. Whatever was approaching was big and it was coming for him, or maybe for you both. That’s the only thing Chris was sure of and that was enough to make him aim his gun at the door and wait, ready to shoot. “That won’t work.” You declared, knowing full well what was in this hotel right now. “We need to leave or it will kill us.”       Chris glanced at you, keeping his guard up. Running away was not in his nature. “What is it?”                 You didn’t have time to reply as a growl shook the entire room. “STAAAAAARRRRS!” The door broke from its hinges as if it was made of cardboard and it flew over your head, deadly propelled by a monster Chris had never seen before. You both miraculously managed to dodge it and you screamed as you fell down onto the floor, Chris knelt in front of you, still trying to protect you as the door shattered the window behind you in a million of tiny pieces. “Son of a bitch! What the hell is that thing?” Chris harrumphed as he began shooting at the head of the creature. It looked like a tyrant but it was way bigger and definitely way more powerful since the magnum bullets barely made him flinch. “Nemesis!”            

The gigantic BOW entered the room slowly but with a heavy self-assured gait that made Chris’ eyes widened in terror. So that’s what was about to be sent in Raccoon City to hunt his friends. Holy shit! Nemesis approached you both, his veiled pale eye fixed upon Chris. “STARS!” He growled as he raised his muscular arm up in the air to punch you both with all the strength it had. The young man pushed you away to protect you, dropping his weapon in the process. You rolled onto the wooden floor and briefly got time to scream when the monster’s fist grazed Chris’ chest. “Chris!”     “Run! Get out!” Chris shouted at you as he quickly crawled to pick up his gun, still determined to defend himself against that beast.

You couldn’t run away, nor could you sit here and watch Chris get killed by the monster you had helped creating. You looked around you, panicked-stricken and terrified for the life of the man you loved, searching for something, anything that might help you neutralising Nemesis for a while and give you enough time to run away.         But the only idea that came to your head was dangerous, highly dangerous, suicidal even. But there was no time to think about something else.   And so you rushed towards Chris who was on the ground to pull him towards you before the Tyrant could crack his head open with a simple punch and helped him stand up. “I told you to run.” Chris screamed, terrified for you as much as you were terrified for him.         You glanced at Nemesis whose hand was stuck in the wooden floor “You’re not the only one who’s stubborn, Chris.” And you kissed him, quickly but hard and passionately, not caring for a second about the monster struggling to free himself right beside you.           Chris frowned, not understanding why you were doing this until he realised his magnum was not in is hand anymore. Instead he had a small notebook, your notebook and you had his weapon. His eyes widened in alarm as everything finally made sense to him “My feelings were real as well.” You confessed. “No!” He shouted, trying to take his gun back but you pushed him with all the strength you got through the broken window behind him, knowing full well that the fall would not kill him.           Chris tumbled over the railing, unable to resist the push and he fell into the void, screaming until his body dived into the trash-filled dumpster under the window. You smiled knowing he would be fine and turned around to see Nemesis going back up on its feet. “Alright. It’s you and I now, you fucker.”

You never held a gun in your life but you knew you didn’t need much training or precision to do what you intended to do. All you needed was to know how to pull a trigger and hope that your sacrifice would not be in vain. “Take that one with you to hell.” You curled your index and instinctively closed your eyes the second you heard the bullet escape the barrel with a loud bang to fly towards the creature.            

It’s true what they say about guns. They’re quick, awfully quick, so quick you realise you pulled the trigger only after the bullet lodge itself in your target. But it’s also true what they say about death. You see it coming. You see it coming accompanied by all the moments of your life that led you to your very ending. Death comes in slow motion, even when you shoot a bullet.                 You weren’t sure how you felt when you saw the small piece of lead hitting the radiator behind Nemesis. Relief? Satisfaction? Pride? Maybe all those emotions tinted with a bit of fear? A fear of what’s waiting for you on the other side (if there’s one)? A fear of what’s going to happen to Chris after you’re gone? But what you were sure of was that you had just done right by him.               And so you embraced your death, welcomed it with opened arms as the flames went burning your body, killing you instantly and swiftly. A beautiful painless death. A good death.

                 Chris woke up days later, alone in a room at the Hôtel-Dieu Hospital, with a nasty headache and his chest tightly wrapped in white bandages. Fuzzy, wondering where he was and what had happened to him, it took him a few seconds to remember it all. The hotel. The beast. How you both had been attacked. “Y/N” He whispered your name and his eyes widened in fear and worry. Where were you?           Without thinking, he quickly got up from his bed with a wince of pain and started removing all the electrodes stuck to his chest as well as the needle deeply inserted in his arm. The machines around him started beeping furiously. But he couldn’t care less. He had to find you. He had to see if you were okay. He barely had time to take an unsteady step - his legs too shaky and weak to support his weight - before a nurse, alarmed by the long beep of the electrocardiogram, brutally entered the room. “Oh mon dieu, mais que faites-vous debout?” She screamed in French as she urged Chris to lie back on his bed. “Y/N” He just said and the woman frowned. “I need to find her.”                 “Find who?” She asked, thinking Chris was maybe rambling because of all the painkillers in his system. “Y/N. The woman who was with me. In the hotel.”                 The nurse barely listened to him as she was doing all she could to make him sit down. Luckily for her, Chris was still too fragile to resist her. Dizzy, he softly yet reluctantly laid back on his bed and the woman gently grabbed his hands in an attempt to reassure him and calm him down. “Sir, you fell from the second floor. You suffered a serious head injury, not counting your broken ribs. You must rest.”     “Not before I find Y/N. She was with me, in the hotel.” He repeated, struggling to leave his bed again. His brain couldn’t focus on anything else but you and the nurse understood she would not be able to keep Chris in the room if he continued writhing on his bed like that. “I need back up in room 126. It’s urgent.” She said through the phone without taking her eyes off Chris.   “No, you don’t understand! She’s maybe in danger.” He growled as loud as he could as he seized the handset from the nurse’s hand to place it back on the base unit. “Alright. Alright. Why don’t you sit down and I’ll …”                   “Where is Y/N?” Chris insisted, desperately begging for an answer.   “I don’t know who you’re talking about. I’m afraid you’re the only patient who was brought here after the hotel explosion.” She confessed with a confusion that proved her honestly.

Chris felt a sudden weight crushing his shoulder and chest. “Explosion?” Chris repeated. “What explosion? What are you talking about?”                 “You don’t remember?” Chris stopped moving. His eyebrows furrowed, he tried to remember an explosion or anything that could have resembled one. But he had no memory of that. All he could remember was the monstrous creature trying to kill him. And so for a second he dared imagine many different scenarios that all came to the same conclusion. If there had been an explosion then Umbrella was behind it. “What explosion?” He asked again through his gritted teeth and the door suddenly slammed open.        

Chris turned around to see a couple of nurses and a white-haired old man entering the room. Judging by his suit and his undeniable charisma, he was certainly no regular police officer or some local inspector. “Mister Redfield? My name is Adam Benford. I work for the US government. I’ll ask you to calm down.” Chris glared at him. Like hell he would, old fool.   “Not until you tell me where is Y/N Y/LN.” That probably looked like blackmail but he didn’t care. He wanted answer and he had the feeling that man had them.  “Leave us. Mister Redfield and I need to discuss about a classified matter” Benford declared and the  nurses left the room.                

From his bed, Chris watched the old man standing in the middle of his room, still like marble. “Miss Y/LN is dead.” Chris didn't know if it was the way Benford had dropped that terrible news, so cold and insensitive, or the news itself that muted him and paralysed him to the spot. But Chris could barely believe what he had just heard. You were dead? No. No. You couldn’t. You … A couple of tears escaped his brown eyes and went rolling along his cheeks as he felt his heart shatter in his chest. “How?” He dared ask, fearing it was his fault. “Killed in the hotel explosion four days ago. Gas leak. The heater in your room appeared to have exploded. At least that is the version Umbrella paid the French police to reveal. But you and I both know something else happened. Right, Mr Redfield?”         Chris didn’t answer, still trying to process the fact he had lost you, that you had certainly died because of him. And that guilt was too heavy for him to bear. He already had to carry the loss of his fellow S.T.A.R.S. members over his young shoulders. He wasn’t sure he would be able to carry yours as well.                     “Umbrella sent Nemesis after me. They gave it the order to chase and kill all the S.T.A.R.S members who had survived the mansion incident. It attacked me and Y/N.” And it killed her. “We need to call the RPD and warn them” The fact that Benford didn’t look surprised by the news or even a tiny bit astonished made Chris realise he knew all too well about Nemesis and its task.               “ No need. Nemesis was sent after Miss Valentine and Mister Vickers 3 days ago in Raccoon City.” Chris’s heart skipped a beat and forgot how to breathe for a while.               “ Are they …?” He couldn’t finish the question and he wasn’t sure he was ready to hear the answer either. He had felt enough death and pain for today.   “ Miss Valentine managed to survive. But Mister Vickers didn’t make it.”           “ Oh no.” Chris looked down. He could feel guilt growing inside of him and slowly drowning him. “I should have warn then. I should have done something.” And with guilt came anger and rage.         “You were unconscious. Plus it would have been impossible for you to reach Raccoon City in time.” Chris frowned, unsure what Benford meant by that and when he saw the man sit by his side he understood something extremely bad had happened. “Raccoon City was destroyed a couple of days ago.” What? “Nuclear strike ordered by the President in order to sanitize the city after a T-virus escaped and contaminated most of the inhabitants.”                

Horror and anger struck Chris like thunderbolt and he clenched his fists, digging his short nails in his skin as strongly as he could. The rage he was feeling right now was nothing in comparison to the one he had felt before. He hated Umbrella, now more than ever. He hated that fucking company so much he could a powerful thirst for vendetta eating him up from within. They had taken so much from him. His friends. His city. The woman he loved. They needed to pay.     “I know it’s a lot to take in as I know Umbrella is responsible for everything that happened to you, to your colleagues and to Raccoon City. Trust me I’ll make sure they won’t get away with it.” Benford looked convinced and pretty confident but that wasn’t enough to persuade Chris who didn’t know if he could trust the American Government any longer. After all, they had financed Umbrella’s research for years. The T-virus was made to serve their military purposes. “I’m started an Anti-Umbrella unit within the US.STRAT.COM and I’ve been collecting information among the Raccoon City survivors, Miss Valentine included, since the viral outbreak. But I need to know, Mister Redfield. Do you have any sort of information that would help us bring Umbrella to justice?”

But what choice did he have right now if not trusting that man? Chris had no way to fight a giant like Umbrella. He couldn’t do anything against them, not on his own. He was not strong enough. And as he noticed the red notebook on the nightstand beside him, he took a decision. “ Y/N left this notebook to take Umbrella down. I’m willing to give its entire content if, and only if, this notebook remains in my possession.” “You don’t trust me with that notebook, do you?” Benford frowned, trying to hide how vexed he was. Jill Valentine and Leon Kennedy had shown themselves more cooperative.                   “No, I don’t. But it’s not because you work for the Government. It’s because it’s the only thing I have left from Y/N and I want to keep it.” The old man sighed knowing he would not get anything else from Chris. The things you do for love.                   “ Well. I guess we have a deal. Mister Redfield. Now tell me. What’s you’re story?”

Y/N Y/LN’s notebook was used as strong evidence in the Raccoon Trials of 1998 that recognized the Umbrella Corporation guilty of all charges led against them. Even today, the notebook is still considered as a major source of information in the fighting against Tyrant-type BOWs. A commemorative plaque in Y/N’s honour can be found in the BSAA Headquarters in America. Chris Redfield puts flowers on it each time he can and he still owns Y/N's diary in his office. When he is asked about Y/N, he says he’ll “always remember as a hero, as a woman I loved, as the girl under her extra-large umbrella”.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #427

“don’t pray for me when you’re the one enslaved”

Your ex taps you on the shoulder and says, “I still love you.” You say? I wouldn't say anything, I'm pretty sure I'd just break down. Do you play video games? Not really anymore. :/ I probably would, though, if I had the appropriate consoles for games I want. You can only replay PS2 games but so many times before you're tired of them. Do you spend a lot of time with family? No, honestly. Is your house more than two stories tall? It only has one floor. Have you ever hit your significant other? Has he/she ever hit you? I'm not in a relationship, but I have most certainly never hit an s/o, and they've never hit me. I wouldn't tolerate that shit. What makes you an attractive person? (Talk about your personality too!) I'm not. What color is your hairbrush/comb? White. What snacks do you have available in your household atm? Hm. Just some fruity grain and oats bars, as well as cashew ones. We try to keep sweets out of the house. Has anyone recently told you that they like you, or find you attractive? No. Are you attracted to the last person you Facebook messaged? Holy fuck yes, she's drop-dead gorgeous. Do you care about anyone that doesn’t care about you? Ha, I'm sure. Was your last Facebook friend requests from a male or female? Some random middle-aged man, like who are you sir. Which one of your relatives is most likely to embarrass you? My dad. He can be so rude to people sometimes. When was the last time you ate a bar of chocolate? Not sure. It's been quite a while. Do you play any games on Facebook? No. What would you like to get a degree in? It'd be nice to get a degree in Arts, but yeah... I'm never going back to school. Do you wake up a lot in the middle of the night? Pretty much every night. Would you prefer to read a book, watch a movie or TV show, or play a video game? Play a video game. Do you usually get popcorn or soda at the movie theater? Almost without fail. You've got to, it's part of the experience. What genre of films do you like the best? Horror. How many bank accounts do you have? None, actually. Have you ever had the flu? No, thankfully. What is your goal for the next few months? To start getting in shape/losing weight. I seriously hope this gym routine works out. Have you ever had some kind of sleep-disorder? How did it affect your life? I have seveeeere sleep apnea. It's shocking, I never would've guessed it, though, so the diagnosis (I had a sleep study, so yes, it's legit) was an extreme surprise. I don't snore at all, nor do I like pass out in the middle of something, but I stop breathing A LOT. For a year or two (no, that is not an exaggeration), it caused consistent, horrible, and violent nightmares/terrors. It made sleep frightening to me, and I was never getting a truly restful sleep. Now, I have an APAP mask (like a less extreme version of a CPAP mask) that helps me greatly. I only very rarely am surprised by a more subtle nightmare now. Have you ever had food poisoning before? Describe the experience. No, thankfully. What are two things that you have no problem paying full price for? Quality tattoos, for one. And maybe uhhh... idk. We're the kind of family that buys off-brand foods and drinks all the time because it's cheaper, so I can't say that. Maybe health care? Like I wouldn't want service from a sketchy dentist or something. Funny, charming, cute, romantic, smart - choose only 2 for the opposite sex. Charming and romantic. Have you ever let somebody use you? Why did you do it? No. You can go back in time & change something in your mom’s past - what is it? That's hard for me to say. She doesn't seem to like talking about her past very much, because I know it's turbulent with her mother. I would say her being disowned, but I don't know how that *actually* affected her. Maybe it was for the better she wasn't under her mom's authority anymore. Do you know anybody who is around the exact same size as you? Who? I guess my mom, but she's actually smaller than me now. She's lost a lot of weight and is still going at it. Ever been to a haunted house? How scared were you? Not a house, but rather hay rides and those places you just walk through and experience different stuff. They don't scare me at all; I love 'em. Been on any websites today you wouldn’t want your parents to see? No. Which is worse: dusting or mopping? Ugh, mopping. I don't mind dusting. Would you marry somebody who was intensely religious? No. Did you pull a senior prank? No. That shit is so dumb. Did you graduate? High school, yes. Have you ever been unfaithful in a serious relationship? No, and I never would. What was the last song you listened to? I'm listening to Lauren Babic and Halocene's cover of "Bleed It Out" by Linkin Park right now. It's great. Are you one of those lucky people with 20/20 vision? Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeell no. Is fashion one of your interests? No. Do you think you’ll eventually find that special someone? Hell if I know. Do you care what people think? Way, way more than I should. Is acting something you enjoy? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. I feel so stupid. What was the last thing you broke/sprained? I tore a ligament badly in my foot maybe a year and a half ago. I was SO sure it was broken. My mom had to help me walk everywhere, and even when she did, I'd be whimpering and seething. Have you ever fought with a friend because of their boyfriend/girlfriend? Because of yours? No. Has a stranger ever yelled at you for your language? No. Whose house, other than yours and your families', are you most comfortable at? If we're excluding all family, I suppose Sara's? Has any of your friends’ family ever yelled at you? Probably at some point as a kid. Did you ever play a sport as a little kid? Did you enjoy it? I played a lot. The only two I really didn't like were soccer and cheerleading. Did you ever watch the show Full House? Hell yeah, I loved it as a kid. Is there a celebrity you are just DETERMINED to marry? Ha ha y'all know I joke about it, but no, not legitimately. It's not like I know him personally at all, and I'm not chasing him to California either. Just let me dream still lmao. Have you ever burned someone’s picture? No, but I've actually heard it's truly therapeutic and not just for dramatic effect, so I wouldn't be opposed to doing so if you handed me a picture of him and a lighter. What’s the longest hike you’ve ever been on? I've never hiked before. Would you ever get a lip tattoo? Uh, no. Who is the first person of the opposite sex that pops into your head? Jason. Do your parents smoke cigarettes? My dad smokes like a chimney and is 100% going to end up with cancer because of it. You should hear his cough. Mom smoked for a very, very brief period before I was born. What does one of your T-shirts have written on it? "Equal in our bones" is on my favorite shirt. Name a pet you definitely wouldn’t want. Certain inverts people are wild enough to get, like giant African centipedes in particular. Would you prefer your partner smaller or taller? Can't say I care. do you enjoy going through old pictures? Sometimes. Other times, it's too painful. It also depends on the era of the pictures. Do you believe people when they say they don’t judge people? Ha, no. We all have natural first impressions and things like that that just... happen. What did you love the most about the town you grew up in? Nothing, really... besides just childhood memories that inevitably came. My hometown was dangerous. What’s a movie that you laughed the hardest during? I'm not sure. What’s a movie you cried the hardest during? I want to say Old Yeller, but I'm not sure. What’s your favorite restaurant? Olive Garden and The Cheesecake Factory. Is there a dessert you don’t like? Yeah; I don't like pie, strawberry shortcake, and I know there're others. Favorite album? Ozzy's Black Rain. It was my introduction to metal, so there's nostalgic value there, but I also just LOVE every single song. What’s a book that you read because everyone else was reading it? None. I don't read books for that reason. Underwater or outer space? Both kinda frighten me to a degree, but I find outer space to be way cooler. So many colorrrrrrs. Dogs or cats? Cats. Kittens or puppies? Ugh, both are so cute, but I gotta hand it to kittens. Bird watching or whale watching? Whale watching would blow me away. Whales are such magnificent, awe-inspiring animals. What is your spirit animal? Probably a deer. Skittish, shy, and quiet. What was your best subject in school? English. What was your worst subject in school? Math. What is one thing you wish you knew in high school? You and Jason aren't going to last, hunty. Who is your fashion icon? I don't have one. I wear what I want/what's comfortable. Diamonds or pearls? I think diamonds are a lot prettier. What color dress did you wear to prom? First one was maroon, last one was black. What’s your favorite plot-twist? Silent Hill: Shattered Memories. My jaw actually dropped. Honestly, are you jealous of someone right now? Yes. Honestly, what’s the worst thing you’ve done when you were mad? Said things I shouldn't. Honestly, ever made anyone cry when you were mad? Yes. Honestly, when was the last time you REALLY cried your heart out? Two weeks ago or something like that. Ever pop someone else’s pimple? OH MY GOD NO alskdfa;wekrwer; Do you need to return anyone’s phone call? No. Who are you closest to? My mom. Have you ever had a bad concert experience? No. Are you currently sad about anything? A number of things. Have you had any form of exercise today? No, but tomorrow is day #2 at the gym! Can you handle blood? Yeah, np. Has any place hired you underage for a job? No. Have you ever carried a concealed weapon? No sir=ee. Are you currently searching for a job? Not anymore, at least not actively. I was going to after TMS, but I'm just... still not ready. Right now, I'm focusing on the gym and getting healthy again, but if the seemingly perfect job comes along, I'm not opposed to taking it up. Does eating breakfast make you sick? No, I've got to have breakfast or else THEN I feel awful.

[detective-keen]

Confess | Agatha + Orion

When : Before Lydia’s passing Where : WCPD, Interrogation Room n°2 Who: @3starsquinn & @detective-keen What: Agatha investigates the death of the Quinn parents. The clues lead her to Orion.

Trigger warnings: death mention, child abuse mention (We can summarize if needed)

“In which room did you put him?” Agatha carried an evidence box in her hands, on top of which she had put the case file that she had been putting together ever since Linda and James Quinn had been found dead in their Harris Island home. A break in gone wrong, the newspapers headlined. Meanwhile the detectives were working behind, convinced that no, this was not just an incident. Agatha was convinced of this much, the couple had been murdered, and not on just any day, but on the day of their twins’ birthday. The detective had carefully skimmed each and every piece of evidence at her disposal, and found out that not only one of the twins had left the family home a few months ago, in a far from amicable fashion, his only alibi was being in the company of his special someone. Pathetic. Obviously, it pained Agatha to do this to Winston’s boyfriend, but she had always put work first, and eventually, Winston might even thank her. 

She pressed the box against the wall before she entered interrogation room n°2, pushing strands of hair behind her ears, adjusting her shirt before turning to her coworker to ask that he brought her coffee in a minute. Looking in charge always had its effect on a perp, and she felt confident about this. There were gaps in the story, but she knew enough to suspect that he had done it. 

“Good afternoon, I’m Detective Keen,” she said with an autoritary tone to her voice. This was far from her usual demeanor,but Agatha truly prided herself with how easily she could slip into her detective shoes. She truly was born for this.  

 Of course Orion was nervous to be around the police. Even if he hadn’t murdered his parents, he had never cared for the police much. Sitting in a room like this brought back too many memories. He remembered a room just like this ten years ago. The first time he had tried to get help. Tried to expose his parent’s for the monsters they were and stop what they had been doing to him. Obviously, that had been the last time that he had tried that approach as well. Now, he found himself in a room far too similar, alone and waiting to answer questions just like before. Only this time, things were far different than they had been before. Rio had his legs pulled up onto the chair, hugging them against his chest in a fetal position. The memories made the permanent bruises and scars along his body ache and Rio found himself clutching at them through his hoodie. The scars hadn’t been as bad back then as they were today. Rio had considered himself an entirely different person now than he had been ten years ago, but as if nothing had changed at all he found himself curled into a ball and shaking in an interrogation room just like before. 

 When the door opened, Orion jumped, his breathing erratic and gasping at the sudden entrance. As with most interactions Rio had since the news of his parent’s death went public, he didn’t know how he was expected to act. Even if he hadn’t been the one to end his father’s life, he didn’t think he’d be mourning their deaths. In fact, he probably would have been happier about them dying if he hadn’t been involved at all. “Hi there” Rio started, leaning forward in the seat and trying to determine if he was supposed to be shaking hands or not. Was this casual or an actual interrogation? Rio’s arm found itself on the table as it couldn’t settle between the two options. “I’m uh- Rio. Or I guess legally I’m Orion Grande Quinn. But you knew that. Since you reached out to me and everything.” Clearly, this was going to go super well. “So you had some questions about my parent’s?” Rio questioned, innocent enough, “I can’t say that I have -er had the… closest relationship with them. I’m not sure how much help I can be, honestly. But I’ll answer any questions you have.”

 Agatha smiled at the boy. So this was how this would go, huh? Starting the interrogation by saying that he had nothing to tell her was really not a good way to get started. She took off her jacket, folded it neatly and placed it on the back of her chair. It was at about this moment that her coworker walked in with her cup of coffee, without a glance for the kid. She thanked him and waited for him to be gone to pick up her mug and take a sip. “Rio? I think I will stick with Orion, we’re not exactly friends now, are we?” Her lips pressed together, she grinned again. “You may refer to me as Detective Keen, or Mrs. Keen,” she certainly did not want to share her marital status with him, and so Mrs. it would be. Flipping her case file open, she revealed a page full of neatly written notes, along with a pouch of photographs, which she opened. One by one, she placed the pictures taken on the crime scene in front of the kid. She had so many questions. 

The pictures went as follows : a photo of a cutting board, a photo of the mother, laying on the floor, another one showing her hand. You could notice a broken nail. The next ones were of the father, revealing the savagery that had been inflicted to him. Then, came pictures of shattered objects, and finally, that goddamn room they found in the basement, one that could have belonged in a horror movie. The room was terrifyingly clean, but what they had found in the drawers, the cupboards, had brought more than a frown to the detectives’ faces. What the fuck had happened in this house ? The night of the murder, and ever since James and Linda Quinn had had their house built in Harris Island. 

“The night this happened was the night of your birthday. From what I’ve seen in your family’s photo albums, it’s a day that you usually spend with your family. With your twin sister. However, she claims that she was not with you that night,” and Athena Quinn would have found herself in this room if it weren’t for the fact that she did not have a motive. He did. He had been rejected by his parents, he had lost access to their resources, so how could he possibly be at peace. “So where were you that night?” She waited patiently for him to tell her his alibi. She already knew the story, and she found it ridiculously detailed. 

 Orion was nervous around most people, especially authority figures. But police officers were among those that he feared the most. His family had always talked about the police with a sort of puppy dog admiration. They were to be respected and admired, even if they weren’t able to make the same choices and do the job that their family had been forced to do. But at the end of the day, the police were there to keep normal people safe from normal things. Child abuse hadn’t been normal, but it certainly wasn’t supernatural. Rio had gone to them because he had been under the impression that they would be able to help. Even as a child, Rio had realized all too quickly that they weren’t going to protect him like he thought they would. The fear of the police had never left, apparently. Even now he found his mouth dry and his hands sweaty. “Sure. Orion is fine, Detective Keen.”

 The detective pulled pictures from a file to place in front of Orion. Even though he had been there that night and caused most of that damage himself, he still found the pictures hard to look at. He found himself glancing around the room as he tried to avoid staring at the pictures too long. Whether he regretted their deaths or not didn’t seem to matter much anymore. He had taken a human life, something that shouldn’t be easy on anybody even if the person deserved it. “We used to. My sister and I had a tradition every year. At least, back when I still lived with my family.” Rio had no idea where Detective Keen was going with her questioning. Was it simply trying to get more information? Was she trying to implicate Rio for them? Or maybe his sister? Rio wasn’t completely naive. His relationship with his family didn’t look good. “I didn’t see her. I didn’t leave my house on great terms and I didn’t want anything to do with any of them. I spent my birthday with my- er well with Winston. I’m guessing you know them. I don’t know if you knew or not but I guess we’re like dating.” Rio hated even bringing Winston into this at all. At the end of this, there was a strong possibility that Winston was the sole reason that Rio would make it out of this a free man. Alternatively, if anything went wrong Rio would be the reason Winston lost their entire career. “We went camping that night. I ended up hurting my wrist and so we went back to Winston’s parents. I was there until I heard about the uh… what happened with my parents.”

 Agatha took note of everything he said and everything he did. She watched as he looked away from the pictures. She could not tell for certain that he was looking away because he was ashamed. It could have been that he just did not like seeing his parents like this (unlikely, considering what she knew about their relationship), or that he hated the sight of blood (although she knew that he worked for Erin Nichols when the Sergeant had died). The thought brought a frown to her face and she had to take a second to regain her composure. It was becoming clearer to her that yes, he was ashamed. The other two reasons made no sense. 

“You went camping ? Where? Did anyone see you? Do you have proof of that?” Her eyes travelled toward Orion’s forearm. She took note of what he had said about hurting his wrist. Interesting. It was obvious that his parents had put up a fight. His mother had a broken nail, fibers underneath those that remained. “Really? You were there until you were told that someone found your parents dead?” If he did not care about his parents, then why would he stay at the Danes only until he could confirm his alibi? Because this was what it was, an alibi. Nothing more. A trick, but one that she could see through. 

She waited for him to answer, and then, only then, she would let the hammer fall. Getting a confession out of someone was never a piece of cake, but she never backed down either.

 A tension headache was forming, a mixture of the onslaught of questions coupled with the fact that Orion knew that he couldn’t tell the truth. Rio knew what the scene looked like. The police would never believe anything he had to say now. As the headache grew and the detective’s questions became more and more invasive, Rio understood that he was being blamed for this. However it had happened, the detective had figured enough out to want to pin the blame on him. His stomach cramped at the thought. “I don’t- the woods by Winston’s parents. I go hiking a lot. You can ask anyone around the campus or anything, I spend a lot of time out in the woods.” That much was true, even if he didn’t necessarily find the place relaxing or safe. “I don’t know if anybody saw us that night. But I don’t know. They may have taken pictures but I’m not sure. We were drinking. It was my twenty first birthday so we were stargazing and I was drunk and I hurt my wrist.” 

 It felt like someone was driving a nail into Rio’s skull through both of his temples. Rio rubbed at them and felt that his face was burning. He must be so red. Sure, maybe he was guilty. But he wished the detective knew that he blushed at everything. This was no different than that. Rio didn’t consider himself guilty of anything, even if he had been responsible for the crime. He wasn’t ashamed that they were dead. He just couldn’t tell her that. “Yes. After I found out I didn’t want to be around everyone. Winston and I left and went home.” This couldn’t be happening. “You… you think I did this? You think I killed my parents?”

 She put down her cup of coffee, and walking around the room, Agatha stood a foot behind the boy, a little bit to the side, where she still had a proper view of his face. Her own face remained blank, whatever he said, whatever she said. Silent, she listened to him talk. He was quite talkative, she noticed, much like the man who had served her at the bakery earlier. She had to be polite as she waited patiently for him to give her her cinnamon roll. She had been craving it, and of course she had to stumble onto Mr.Chatty McChatter the salesman. The thought of that pastry did bring a soft expression to her face, one that she chased away. 

She was not believing a damn word that boy was saying. All of this was too elaborate. What kind of fucked up camping spot was the woods behind your special someone’s parents? How fucking romantic. “Okay, so you went to woods where no one you did not know could have seen you, to camp with someone who will vouch for you no matter what, you hurt your wrist on the night your parents died, because you were drunk, which really is convenient. Well done. No way you could remember a thing if you’re drunk. And yet,” she put her hand on the back of his chair, holding onto it as she bent closer to him, talking a few inches away from his ear. “And yet, you remember quite a lot, aside from how exactly you hurt your wrist, or why you never went to the hospital that night,” she went on, “you could not have gone to the hospital that night, could you, because you were covered in their blood. That’s why you hid with Winston. That’s what happened,” she turned her face toward him, looking from the wall to his face. 

Agatha watched the shade of red on his cheeks, and she did not budge. He could be uncomfortable, she did not care. That kid had murdered his parents. And made her coworker into an accomplice. “I know you did this. You’re done, kid,” she straightened herself up and moved to the wall, to get a better look at him. “Your mother, we found a lot of things under her nails, it’s a matter of time before we figure out who is the last person she saw,” her arms crossed over her chest, she smiled, at last. “Breaking everything was a nice touch, but a thief would take things. We found the jewelry, we found the wallets, all of them were untouched. And the way their body looked, oh boy, you really hated them, did you,” her voice softened and  she stepped closer, sitting on the other side of the table this time, “this kind of violence, a burglar would have never gone so far. Never,” her head tilted to the side, and she gave him a compassionate look. It was fabricated, but she could make it look real. “You know, if you confess, I might be able to keep Winston out of jail.”

 The accusations didn’t get any lighter from there. She was going full force now, trying to tear down every little piece of his made up alibi. Shred by shred. He knew her strategy. She was hurling everything she had at him quickly and brutally. She wanted him to break. To go off into a rage or cower into a confession. But he couldn’t do that. Not for Winston’s sake. Or any of his other friends. Orion still had good to do. “It’s not convenient. I turned twenty one. I’ve never been a drinker. I wanted to celebrate. It didn’t take much for me to get tipsy.” Rio’s voice was shaking through his words, but he had to remain calm and level headed. “I didn’t go to the hospital because it wasn’t that bad. I just twisted it. You know from my file that my former job burned down. I don’t have medical insurance.” He raised both hands and waved them around, “If I had broken it, it would still be injured.” He had broken it actually, but hunter healing provided a pretty reliable excuse there.

 “Please,” Orion pleaded with the officer. It felt wrong, lying like this. Especially to someone who seemed to have no sympathy. She didn’t believe him. But if she knew the truth, would she still be doing this? It had been self defense, right? “Fine! Okay, check. Because I don’t know what happened.” How did he get out of this? How did he gain any amount of sympathy or traction if Winston’s own testimony didn’t count for anything in the detective’s eyes. Rio wasn’t sure if the tears in his eyes were on purpose or not, but soon they stung and Rio found himself wiping his sleeves across his face. “Winston didn’t do anything because he’s not covering for me. My parents were bad people. They were awful human beings. They did horrible things to other people and horrible things to me. I hated them, but I was terrified of them. When I left my parent’s house I never wanted to go back. And I didn’t. I couldn’t have done this to them because I’m not like them.”

 “If you had twisted it, it wouldn’t have miraculously gotten better either,” Agatha replied, not impressed for one second. Something just did not add up. “You are the one who told me that you hurt your wrist,” she retorted. “And yet, as it appears, it’s neither broken, nor does it look like it was ever injured,” her eyes narrowed and she leaned back in her chair. “You know, if you’re going to lie to me, you could at least try to make those believable.” Shaking her head lightly, the small smile at the corner of her mouth oozing with mockery and disappointment, the detective sighed. “I suppose we’ll have to wait for forensics to tell me what’s under your mother’s nails,” they did not have much to work on, this much was true, but everything pointed to him. Estranged, with a grudge against them, and left without ressources, unlike his sister. 

“You know, it would be easier if you confessed,” she explained, her expression changing to that of a scolding professor. His tears did not make her budge, although she hardly had a heart of stone. But in times like those, she knew better than to show any sympathy. Perhaps he hated his parents, and they seemed like they were awful people, but murder was murder, no matter the motive. “To other people?” This much intrigued her, as she still wondered what that terrordome they had found was for. “What were they doing to people? To you?” Once again, her eyes narrowed at something he said. There were some that she could use against him later, but for now, his parents were what she wanted to know more about. “You’re not like them? What do you mean? Who were they? What did they do, Orion? I can only help you if you help me.”

 “I did twist it. But it’s fine now I mean- it must not have been that bad. I wore a brace for a week or two you can probably ask people about it or something I don’t know.” The detective was getting to Orion. He knew that and she definitely knew that. If she knew anything about Rio she would know that he would have acted this way whether he had killed his parents or not. He never did well under pressure from authority figures. He barely did well in general. “I’m not lying.” At the core, he had hurt his wrist. That part was true at least. Though the wound had been far worse than a normal twist. He still remembered how ruthlessly his mom had snapped it. But he couldn’t explain away how quickly a broken wrist had returned to normal for him. 

“I can’t confess anything because I didn’t murder them!” Again, technically it wasn’t a complete lie. Orion had only finished the job for one of his parents. If he could keep tiptoeing around the facts even he might start believing the fallacy. He just knew that if the detective knew the entire situation, she wouldn’t consider him any more guilty than he considered himself for what he had done. But how did he begin to explain that without it looking like he had made everything up? 

But then, the conversation seemed to shift. Suddenly the accusations weren’t flying at home. Instead they were focused on his parents instead. This was something he could work with. After all these years staying silent and terrified because of them, maybe now he could do something to help the families that were ruined because of the Quinn’s. He couldn’t give them their lives back. Unfortunately, he could never fix those wounds. But if he could help get some closure it was better than nothing. “My parents were not good people. I don’t- I don’t know everything they’ve done. But they were scary.” In a decision that he hoped would prove his point, he grabbed at his hoodie and pulled the sleeves up, showing off the scars that riddles his arms. “If you found the basement… well then you saw a bit for yourself. That was my dad’s. He hurt people down there.” Tortured and killed them. All while he worked at the hospital fooling everyone in town. “I was terrified of them. I have been my entire life. Too terrified to try to stop them and way too terrified to go back to that house after I had already escaped once.”

 “Huh uh,” it would not be hard to get a doctor to have a look at that arm and tell her whether or not that kid was full of shit. And so, she did not push it further. Rather than to repeat herself, insist, over and over again, the detective crossed her arms, and remained silent, looking at the boy curiously. What could he be hiding from her? He was nervous, but that didn't necessarily mean much. Agatha knew that if she wasn’t a police officer herself, she would be one of these people who were scared of exiting the store without buying anything because how suspicious was that?! “About which part?” Perhaps there were some things that were true in what he was telling her. A good lie had to at least include bits of truth, after all. Still she had this feeling that there was something fishy going on here. 

“Really? You can’t confess anything?” No one was that innocent. For instance, Agatha had once taken a toffee at the bakery back when she was 6 years old. Then the guilt gnawed at her from the inside, and it only took a few hours before she confessed her crime to her mother, who after bursting into laughter, took the young burglar to apologize to the owners of the shop. “Are you going to claim that you’ve never ever done anything illegal in your life? No one is that perfect,” with a sigh, she leaned back in her chair and grabbed her cup of coffee. “Oh well, if you like to tell yourself that,” she gave him a shrug and looked away from him, leaving him alone with his lies and deceptions. Without an audience to convince, perhaps would he stop threading so carefully. 

“You will have to do better than that. Scary is… a broad term,” and in White Crest scary was just the most imprecise way to describe something. Still, from the scars on his arms, she understood immediately what scary entailed here. Her thoughts went to the sister. She wondered if the Quinns had been as cruel with their second child, considering how well the other kid seemed to be doing at life. “Alright,” she stood up from her chair, glancing at the camera in the corner then back at him. “I’m going to come back in a couple minutes, I need to make a quick phone call,” if what Orion Quinn was saying was true, then she might have just put her hands on the man responsible for the disappearance of too many people in town. Or at least, one of the people responsible. As effective as she guessed a surgeon to be, there were too many people disappearing in White Crest for him to be behind them all.

“No, I mean of course not.” Orion sighed. It didn’t feel like there was a good way to answer now. The detective had effectively backed him into a corner. No matter what he said, there was no answer he could give that wouldn’t immediately be tackled and dismembered. At this point he wasn’t even sure he could confess appropriately without having the actual truth undone. “I’m not infallible. I’m not trying to claim that. I don’t- I don’t know what answer you want from me. I get nervous around authority figures. Or like, anyone that raises their voice toward me.” Rio was so stressed he couldn’t even think of any examples of laws he had broken besides murder. But he was sure they existed. It was against the law to step out of a place while it was in the air in Maine, clearly they had to have a ton of other stupid laws that Rio broke without even knowing. But his brain might as well have been made up of noodles at the moment for as well as it was critically thinking. 

He was getting somewhere now. He just needed to figure out exactly what he wanted to do with it. “I don’t know everything. But they’ve hurt people. Killed them even, I think. But I think there’s more at my house than you originally found. My parents weren’t dumb. The basement looks bad, but I guarantee it’s even worse. There’s got to be more proof there somewhere. Just a matter of finding it.” The detective left shortly after that, abandoning Rio to the interrogation room by himself. From the corner of his eye, Rio spotted the camera. The idea of being watched always made Rio nervous, but this time he barely paid it any mind. He leaned back in the uncomfortable metal chair and looked at the ceiling. He was barely keeping it together, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could go. But he couldn’t crack. He wouldn’t crack. 

[salamandersofftheclock]

Principles You Can Use From Rowling’s Philosophy of Writing 

by Ruthanne Reid

If you’re like me, you loved the Harry Potter series. Maybe you watched the movies or even visited the theme park, and you wondered about JK Rowling’s writing process and the strategy she uses to write her best-selling books. If you’re like me, though, you’ve also been deeply hurt by things Rowling herself has said. On Twitter, on her website, in interviews, and more, Rowling has promoted harmful views of trans people, and you might be one of her many readers who find it painful, or even impossible, to return to the Harry Potter books you once loved.I understand. Before I dive into the wisdom we can draw from Rowling’s writing process in order to write our first draft (or others), allow me to share a principle with you. Death of the Author: Or, How to Love the Book, Not the Author In 1967, a French literary critic named Roland Barthes wrote an essay called La mort de l’auteur, or Death of the Author, in which he states that any piece of writing should be separated from the author that wrote it. In other words, he believed in judging the written work completely on its own merits, without involving personal beliefs or actions of the author in question. Sometimes, this is possible to do. Sometimes, it isn’t, and we readers have to apply discernment to what we read and the lens in which we view things.I have two examples for you. HP Lovecraft First, HP Lovecraft, whose incredible work literally created today’s modern horror genre. Do you enjoy any kind of tale with Elder Ones, or chaos gods, or even just good old Cthulhu? (I know I do!) His work was so creative, so new, that you’d be hard-pressed to find any horror story that doesn’t show at least some of his influence.Unfortunately, Lovecraft was also an extremely xenophobic racist. Now, I enjoy a good chaos god, and I’ve made the decision to separate his xenophobia from his writing. That means, of course, that I must view critically anything he wrote that implies white English people are somehow the pinnacle of humanity.It means I purposely do not allow his racism to infect my way of thinking. By doing so, I am practicing la mort de l’auteur. JRR Tolkien Here’s a second example: JRR Tolkien, whose work defined modern fantasy. Do you enjoy anything with elves and dwarves or made-up languages? We owe Tolkien for that. He redefined and polished the fantasy genre so well that everything from movies to MMORPGs still use his templates. Unfortunately, he also described his orcs as “squat, broad, flat-nosed, sallow-skinned, with wide mouths and slant eyes: in fact degraded and repulsive versions of the (to Europeans) least lovely Mongol-types.” Yowza. Now, was Tolkien a racist? Not exactly. In fact, according to the standards of the time, he was absolutely liberal and anti-racist. So then what do we do with this bizarro and racially horrifying description? We see it and choose to discard it. Generations of artists and authors have done exactly that, turning orcs into anything but“least lovely Mongol-types,” and aiding this genre.Again, it’s important to see the problem so you can avoid letting it influence your work. We enjoy the good parts while consciously discarding the bad, rather than being influenced by it. So What About JK Rowling? She’s not dead. In fact, she’s still saying harmful things, even as we speak. Instead of listening to her readers, who (at least initially) approached her in love, trying to help her understand, she doubled down, rejected their experience and their words, and in the process, caused an unbelievable amount of pain. Here’s the thing about la mort de l’auteur: it is entirely up to you whether to apply it to what you read, or to simply discard the whole thing and find less troublesome authors. Both roads are valid. In no way do I condone her attacks on the trans community, or her persistent sharing of misinformation. I choose to apply la mort de l’auteur for the simple reason that I benefited from the good things she’s written, and I wanted to share them with you. However, if you aren’t comfortable doing that, you are absolutely welcome to walk away. In fact, I’d suggest these writing articles instead: Neil Gaiman’s rules of writing, or how to create your own rules of writing. Okay. Awkward stuff done. Ready to dive into the process stuff instead? Let’s go! 9 Rules From JK Rowling’s Writing Process Over the course of her writing career, Rowling shared a lot of solid writing wisdom, and in my opinion, eight writing rules stand out—along with a ninth we can apply from her choices since. Whether or not you’re writing your first book like Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone (Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone) or last book in a series (like Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows), I think these rules speak to Ms. Joanne Rowling’s philosophy on writing.They are great writing tips for you to reflect on in your spare moments and then apply to your writing process, for short stories, novels, bestsellers, or even the first time you’ve ever attempted a book. Rule One: Protect your writing time “Be ruthless about protecting writing days, i.e., do not cave in to endless requests to have “essential” and “long overdue” meetings on those days. The funny thing is that, although writing has been my actual job for several years now, I still seem to have to fight for time in which to do it.” This is especially hard for those of us with family. Our loved ones come first, and while that is important, our loved ones also need to understand that we need time to write. Setting reasonable boundaries is a crucial step for a writer—even if they’re as simple as, “Mommy needs fifteen minutes of quiet time, okay?” If you have trouble setting boundaries with loved ones, try setting a reasonable boundary for one week. See how it goes. If it’s too much time or too little, tweak it. Establish a routine that signals to others that it’s your writing time, but also lets them know that outside of your writing space, you’re there for them. Not only will this teach the importance of flexibility and discipline to others, but also that your writing is valuable. It’s your work, and your dream! Needing quiet time to write doesn’t mean that you don’t love your family. Your writing deserves your time, too. Open communication about this can help everyone understand and respect that. Rule Two: Treat your writing like a job “You’ve got to work. It’s about structure. It’s about discipline.” It’s easy to forget that writing is a job. We don’t always feel like doing our job. We certainly don’t always feel inspired. To be writers, we must train ourselves to sit down and write even when we don’t feel like it. Those moments are the ones that really matter, even more than the shining, flying, muse-kissed moments.Writing when we don’t feel like it is what turn amateurs into professionals and rough drafts into polished manuscripts. “The muse works for you. You don’t write at her beck and call—you train her to show up when you’re writing. “ Rule Three: Believe you ARE a writer “I stopped pretending to myself that I was anything other than what I was, and began to direct all my energy into finishing the only work that mattered to me.” Yes, writing is possible with another job. Yes, writing is possible with other responsibilities. Are you a writer? (I know your inner critic snarled no, but I also know a tiny candle-flicker of unquenchable hope in you whispered yes with so much longing you could cry.) You ARE a writer. That means you write. A runner runs. A painter paints. A cook cooks. You are a writer. You write. Accept this, fight to believe it, and be amazed at how far that takes you. Rule Four: Write what you know “Write what you know: your own interests, feelings, beliefs, friends, family and even pets will be your raw materials when you start writing.” This doesn’t mean you need to experience aliens in order to write about them. It means that all good stories have universal application. A great example is this Google Doodle. (Trust me. I’m going somewhere with this.) Take two minutes and thirty-six seconds to watch this: Halloween 2017 Google Doodle: Jinx’s Night Out It’s adorable, right? Without a single word, this video told an effective story. You felt for the little ghost, both when it was sad and when it was happy, right? News flash: you’re not a ghost. That was universal application. It doesn’t matter what culture you’re from or what language you speak; all human beings know what it is to be lonely, to feel left out, to be frustrated, determined, and to finally be with friends. That story works because the creators used their interests, feelings, beliefs, friends, family and even pets to tell this story. (I’m fond of the kitty, myself.) I’m greatly oversimplifying, but here’s the gist: you already know how to tell a moving story because you live one. If you’ve ever had emotions, ever responded to anything, then you already know what universal application looks like. Listen to the people around you, and apply empathy. You don’t have to be a ghost to write a good ghost story. Rule Five: Read “I always advise children who ask me for tips on being a writer to read as much as they possibly can. Jane Austen gave a young friend the same advice, so I’m in good company there.” Read. Read. Read some more! The more you read, the bigger your arsenal of words will be. The more you read, the better your grasp of metaphor, poetry, beauty, passion, and empathy will be. The more you read, the greater you will be as a writer (and probably human being). It’s like learning more dance moves or impressively difficult notes on an instrument. The more you learn, the better you’ll be. So read in your genre. Read outside your genre. Get in the habit of finding time to pick up a book instead of your phone (unless it’s to open up another book.) You DO have the time to read. Even if that’s just ten minutes a day. Any time counts. And the more stories you read, the more likely you’ll start to implicitly develop the skills you need to become a great writer. Rule Six: Persevere “Perseverance is absolutely essential, not just to produce all those words, but to survive rejection and criticism.” This is one of those unpleasant truths about publishing: you’re gonna get rejected. A lot. I wish there were a way around this. Harry Potter was turned down again and again because that’s just the way it goes sometimes. And it isn’t only publishers: when you get published, and your work is out there, you’ll get bad reviews, too. Mostly, they’ll just be people who don’t understand what you’re doing. Intellectually, you’ll know that. Your heart, on the other hand, is going to break into a thousand pieces. But here’s the secret: you can’t stop writing because of push-back. You MUST NOT stop writing because of push-back. Keep going. Don’t stop. When you get rejected, pick up your pen and keep going (and use the way you feel to put more universal application into your work). And when you’re feeling really discouraged? Remember that when someone doesn’t like your book, they might also just not be your ideal reader. That person just wasn’t your target audience.If your book isn’t to someone’s taste, that’s all right. It will be to someone else’s.Keep writing your book, because your ideal readers need it. Rule Seven: Bring your whole self to the page “What you write becomes who you are … So make sure you love what you write!” Writing is a little like a Mobius strip, in a way: Your beliefs and experiences and feelings all help craft your writing. However, your writing clarifies, corrects, and often reveals your beliefs, experiences, and feelings. As you write, you’ll discover things about yourself. You’ll clarify things, too, because it’s only as you come to write them that you realize they needed clarification in the first place. Now, understand: this means that if you haven’t given yourself a good look to find your biases (we all have them), you will bring those to the page, too. It’s important to see who you are as you bring your whole self to the page. Writing is a brave, bold venture, and life-altering discovery is part of the journey. Rule Eight: Accept that failure is part of the process “Failure is inevitable—make it a strength. You have to resign yourself to the fact that you waste a lot of trees before you write anything you really like, and that’s just the way it is. It’s like learning an instrument, you’ve got to be prepared for hitting wrong notes occasionally, or quite a lot. I wrote an awful lot before I wrote anything I was really happy with.” Failure is normal. Also, it is okay. You’re going to write a lot of crap. You’re going to push past those things and write more crap. It may take you twelve years. It may take you a million words. If it does, then you’re on the right path—the same one your favorite authors walk. Accept that it will take time, and that sometimes, your pencil won’t be your friend. If you accept it, then when it happens, you won’t throw in the towel and set the house on fire. Instead, you’ll be able to go, “Well, dang; that sucked, didn’t it? Knew it would happen. Time to write some more.” Rule Nine: Respect Your Reader Sadly, this rule doesn’t come from writing advice she’s given, but in a way, it’s the final conclusion of the previous eight. This involves bringing your whole self to the page. This involves empathy and universal application. This involves perseverance, never quitting, and willingness to tackle your writing troubles. If your readers value what you created, they will listen to what you say. Your words have the power to uplift or hurt others. None of us can ever really know where someone else is coming from, and it’s essential that both our stories and our interactions reflect respect. Respect yourself enough to be a better person. Respect your readers enough to hear what they have to say. This sounds scary, I know, but I promise you, it’s worth it.

[ithehellisbucky]

Yellow and Fuckboy- Random People Part 1

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Requested: None

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Cussing, brief mentions of sexual harassment, brief talks about eviction, general bitchiness

Author’s Note: Ahhhhh, I finally posted something. I know I’m a day late, but I tried my best. I only had enough time to edit the first half, so sorry if there are any errors. This will be a series, with about 5, 6, or 7 parts, it depends on the turn this takes. Requests and taglists are open. Love you, and stay safe out there!

This is the end. Standing on a crosswalk in the middle of a bustling street with people screaming all around you. This is the end. But then again, you never know what the ending is until it's done. But it isn't done yet.

6 years. 6 years at that job. A good job. A job with a guarantee of climbing the corporate ladder. A job that you had just been fired from.

Why the fuck were you fired? Stupid bullshitters caught one whiff of a sexual harassment scandal and booted you out without a second thought. And blamed it on your "work ethic". Stupid Jonah should have been fired instead, he was the one who would wolf whistle and "flirt" (the shitty thing that he tried to claim he was doing instead of sexual harassment) whenever you walking by his desk. Not you.

Then after all of that shit, your landlord evicted you. Said that "you wouldn't be able to pay the rent" because you were fired. You would've been able to throw something together if he had trusted you. If someone had trusted you.

But no one had. You're just standing in the middle of the street. Without anyone. Trying to convince yourself that this wasn't the end of the world.

~

This is the beginning. The beginning of something. The beginning of a whole new future. In the middle of the bustling street, there was only one spotlight. And that spotlight is on James Barnes. 

Today was the day. The day to end all other. Bucky's pulse was the only sound he could make out, even though there was noise all around him. 

"What am I gonna do without you Buck." He turned around to look at a face he had seen almost every day of his life, a face he almost forgot was standing right next to him.

"I don't know Steve, but you’re gonna figure it out." The better question in Bucky's mind was what the hell he was going to do without Steve. Every day of his life he had seen Steve. What the hell was he going to do without the scrawny kid who wasn't afraid of a fight but definitely should be? Possibly survive, probably die.

On the inside, Bucky had no idea what the hell he was going to do. All he knew, is that this was the beginning of something. He didn't know what. All he knew was that it was the beginning

~

An apartment. That's all you needed. An apartment. One bedroom, one bathroom. Maybe even a kitchen, or a living room if you were lucky. Hell, at this point you'd settle for no windows.

Today is hell. It honestly couldn't get any worse.

Something hits your back. It was light, and for a moment you thought it could be a pebble or something. You reach behind you and touch the top of your back, right where the fabric of your shirt meets the strap of your backpack.

Nothing was there. You shrug your shoulders and continue to walk along. The same sensation hits your nose. Nothing, again. All there is is a small wet splotch. Oh. Oh no. This is bad. This is worse than bad. This is devastatingly horrible. 

Looking up towards the sky in horror, you wince as another raindrop hits your cheek. The movies were right. You should never say "it can't get any worse." Because then it’ll immediately start raining. 

At least it's only a small drizzle. Nothing too bad could come from it.

...Fuck.

Almost the exact second that thought ran through your mind that a complete and total downpour washed over you. Thunder was crashing all around you, and everyone started running. You pull up your backpack and put it over your head. Like that would do anything to stop the flood that was coming down to you.

If this was a movie you would be running through the rain to your estranged lover, but alas, this isn't a movie. Instead, you're running to a diner that is barely in your line of vision. 

As you run towards the diner the wheel of your suitcase gets caught on the curb, causing you to fall over. While pushing yourself off the ground, you look down and see that your knees have been bloodied by the fall. 

Sighing, you straighten your suitcase and continue to walk towards the restaurant at a much slower pace; partially because of your skimmed knees, and partially because your mood is just as hurt.

Once you reach the diner you stand in the foyer, thinking about all the horrific turns this day has taken. Wiping your feet on the mat and putting your backpack back on your back you sigh loudly into the universe. Not to a person, place, or thing, to the universe.

You open the door and take a whiff of fresh coffee and warm waffles. You roll your suitcase over the bump in the doorway and hear a clanging noise. 

The diner was more crowded than most of the other diners you had been to in Brooklyn, and you wonder what makes it so special. The funny thing was that most people weren't in there to shield themselves from the rain, the majority of people looked like this was just another day, not the day the world was ending.

Dragging your suitcase behind you, you walk towards one of the only empty seats at the countertop. There is one empty seat on your left, and the one on your right is taken by a man in a blue business suit.

You take a seat on the stool and plop your suitcase down on the seat beside you. If someone wants to sit there enough they'll ask. You take a look at the menu in front of you. Within two seconds you had instantly picked out the meal that you wanted: chocolate chip pancakes and a coffee. 

Waiting for the waiter to come over to take your order wasn't easy. You had just been fired, evicted, and then caught in a goddamn thunderstorm; you aren't in the mood to be patient.

For a few minutes, the seat next to you was empty. Then, someone walked up being you, and said the exact words: "Is this seat taken."

~

A rainstorm. Just his luck. Possible the only thing that could happen to take Bucky down a notch had happened, a rainstorm. It may not be the worst thing on the planet, but it's certainly up there.

Almost the exact second he had said goodbye to Steve for the last time in a long time, the sky opened up its floodgates and poured them down onto him. It was almost as if the weather was reciprocating the emotions he was feeling.

While running to the nearest building he could find, the only thought running through Bucky's head was how he would find the airport. He barely left Brooklyn, and when he did do it, it was by subway. 

The bell chimed as he entered the building, which he could now see was a diner from the decor. Panting, he looked around the room for a seat. There didn't seem to be any until he spotted one with a suitcase on it.

The woman that the suitcase presumably belonged to was wearing a purple sweater and blue jeans that stopped midway up her calves. She was (for some twisted reason that was beyond him) wearing cheap yellow flip-flops that looked like they were from dollar tree. Her backpack was black, and the straps were sagging so much that the bottom of the bag reached several inches below the bottom of the seat she was sitting on.

Grumbling, Bucky walked over to the countertop, thinking of how much he didn't want to deal with some crazy lady wearing yellow flip-flops in the middle of a thunderstorm.

"Is this seat taken?" Bucky asks the yellow-flip-flop-wearing-lady with grain in his voice.

~

You turn around, trying to make the exhaustion on your face as clear as humanly possible. Turning to face the man who had so *rudely* interrupted your peaceful, if not depressing, brooding, you plaster a scowl over your face.

However, when you turn to see him, you see something that you were without a doubt not expecting. A handsome young man (dear god you sound like a grandmother).

He's wearing a brown coat, and the shirt beneath it is a navy blue. He's wearing a pair of dirty blue jeans, and it looks like the second or third time they’ve been worn without being washed. The black baseball hat he's wearing somehow matches perfectly with the rest of the ensemble. His dark brown hair is tousled in a way that's halfway between "fuckboy" and "my hair is messy because I was busy making you breakfast at 8 AM and I didn't have time to brush it."

But even when you take all of this into account (his flawless body, hair, face, eyes, and general vibe) you couldn’t bring yourself to be nice to him on such a shitty day. "What the fuck is your problem."

Instead of acting offended, or gasping in horror, he simply rolls his eyes. Yep, definitely a New York native.

"My fucking problem is that your backpack is in the seat I need to sit in." He almost looks more annoyed that you... Almost.

You roughly pull your suitcase off of the stool and onto the floor, not breaking eye contact with the fuckboy (that is the option that you have decided to go with since he's pissed you off this much).

He kicks your suitcase out of the way, and for a second he looks at you like he's expecting a big ass reaction, instead, all you do is scoff and stare straight in front of you.

The waiter walks up to you, and within a heartbeat, you can tell that she's new to Brooklyn. She has straight and perfectly combed black hair that doesn't have a single hair loose. She has perfectly straight posture, and the look in her eyes of someone who hasn't seen someone pee on a subway. Not to mention that that makeup matches with her skin tone perfectly, not the half-toned shit that's 2 shades off your skin tone that you wear.

"Can I take your order?" Her voice is far too cheery for a diner in Brooklyn, even the waiters who fake it for the tips couldn't muster up that much positivity.

Feigning a smile you simply say, "chocolate chip pancakes, and coffee as black as my heart." The waitress looked taken aback, and the sickly sweet smile that you choose to plaster on your face remained the same. "Thanks," you look to see her nametag "Manta."

Fuckboy snorts, and you can tell that he is far more amused by the situation than you are. "And all have the eggs and sausage with the-" snort "coffee as black as her heart."

'Manta' has an awkward look on her face, and you can tell that she is trying to push the negative emotions down. Her face soon perks up, and as she takes your menus she responds with: "I'll have that right out for you." 

Your smile remains sickly sweet as she walks away, but it immediately drops the second she leaves your eyesight.

"Why the fuck are you wearing yellow flip-flops?" Fuckboy says with a sneer.

"Why the fuck aren't you wearing yellow flip-flops." You respond, raising both your eyebrows and speaking in a mocking tone.

~

This lady is getting on Bucky's fucking nerves. She acted like she ran the fucking place, when in fact the only thing she had control over her fucking flip-flops. He was trying not to be a sexist bitch, but Bucky was wondering how anyone could be so shit-headed.

In Bucky's eyes, today was supposed to be the perfect day. Starting over. Joining the military. Yet in "Yellow" (the name Bucky choose to call her in his head because of her obnoxious yellow flip-flops) seemed to be put on this earth to make Bucky feel any emotion but happiness. Fine, two could play at that game.

"You know, I was having a decent fucking day, so I would appreciate if you try not to ruin what's left of it." He said while staring at the clock and wondering how quickly he could get out of the establishment.

"We don't always get what we want." She shook her head in a way that made it seem like she was mocking him, which she didn't seem to be doing. Even if she was, she was doing it horribly.

"Can't I get what I want this fucking time." Bucky reaches into his pocket and rolls around a cigarette that he hasn't had the chance to smoke yet, and contemplates what the consequences of him pulling it out would be.

"No, apparently you can't," Yellow responds. Both of them were staring ahead into nothing. 

The waitress, Manta, comes back with Yellow's pancakes. Yellow's fake sugary sweet demeanor returns and Bucky can tell under the artificial smile she seems slightly happy to receive the food.

Manta puts a coffee in front of each of them, and when she speaks she does it with her trademark smile, "Your sausage and eggs will be right out sir."

Putting on a fake smile (unlike Yellow he actually meant to be nice, and not just to be evil) he said: "thank you so much."

After receiving his coffee he turned to Yellow and said: "What the fuck made you act this way? Why in God's name would you be so horrible to someone who had done absolutely nothing."

Her head snaps back over to Bucky, and she makes piercing eye contact. "You know what made me act this way. You know fucking why?" Yellow seemed to actually state this as a question, but before Bucky could respond she continued.

"I was fucking fired because some shithead said he wanted to get in my jeans. Then I was evicted from my apartment by my asshole landlord. I have nothing and no one in my life that needs me, so why the fuck should I act happy." She pauses to catch her breath, then continues on her tirade. 

"I've been nice to people who haven't deserved my entire fucking life, and I'm so fucking sick of it. You have a look on your face that says that the hardest decision you've ever had to make was to fuck someone from the front or the back. Get the fuck over yourself, some people have shit to deal with."

~

Why the fuck had you just explained your life story to a stranger. No idea. It just felt kind of right. In a weird and twisted way, you felted more comforted with this stranger than around assholes you had known your whole life.

"I'm sorry you went through that, but that doesn't mean you get to treat people like shit," Fuckboy said in a tone softer than any that someone had spoken to you in years.

Before you know what's happening you feel tears welling up in your eyes. "You're probably right. Shit, no. You're definitely right. I swear to god that I've never acted this way before. It's just, today is different." You look over to Fuckboy and shrug your head. "I've always had shit days, it's just that today was takes the cake."

Fuckboy looks down at his shoes and then back up at you. "Listen, I'm not sorry for what I said, I just want you to know that I believe you. From the story, you told me I'm pretty sure you're not used to people saying that to you.

"I think we got off on the wrong foot." He says in a tone that you're certain you haven't been spoken to before.

"I do too." You exclaim as you twist your lips around, keeping at least one part of your body busy as your mind roams Fuckboy's mannerisms.

"Here's your egg and sausage, sir." Manta puts a plate down in front of Fuckboy, much to his delight.

Fuckboy immediately stuffs his face with the sausage, and then looks over and glares at you. Understanding what his eyes were saying, you turn to face Manta.

"I'm sorry Manta. I didn't mean to be a bitch. I've had a long day, and, I don't know. It's not really an excuse, I'm just sorry." You look at her in hope, with a neutral expression on your face.

For a second you think she's going to react badly, and then she perks up again, excited by your apology. "Don't worry about it! We all have our bad days, and I just happened to catch you on yours." 

You let out a sigh of relief and smile a genuine smile at her acceptance. "Um, here's my card; I don't work at the place listed there anymore, but the personal number still works. If you ever need a favor, just call me. I'm almost always by my phone, and what I mean by that is that I'm almost always scrolling through supermodels Insta feeds."

Upon excepting the card Manta perked up even more, "Thank you so much."

~

"So, how am I doing?" Yellow asks Bucky.

"...Actually pretty good. I'm super impressed that you can just turn it off and on like that, pretty twisted superpower." He exclaims with a chuckle.

"Thank you, for your overwhelming support," Yellow responds. After hearing her say this Bucky lets out a chuckle, and in his heart of hearts he truly means it. 

"So, what's your life story. I already told you mine." Yellow Pauses to think for a second. "I swear if it's more depressing than mine, I'm going to be super pissed."

Bucky ponders the question for a moment, and then answers with: "Nothing too horrible I have a sister named Rebecca, my mom is my favorite person. I have a scrawny best friend named Steve." Bucky continues to think for a few more seconds and then, like a lightbulb, Bucky remembers something that is very important to his story. "And I am joining the military, today."

Yellow's jaw drops to the fucking floor, much to Bucky's amusement. "I'm so fucking sorry. If I had known I probably would of, well, done the same thing." She pauses and looks the other way in shame. "I'm sorry."

"It's all good, I wasn't really attached to my pride anyway." Yellow feigned shock and Bucky responded by chuckling. He was really liking her more and more as the moments passed.

"Oh, and by the way, my name is-" She started to say, but then Bucky quickly cut her off. 

"I don't want to know your name. I'll probably never see you after today, and I don't want another thing to miss." Bucky knew that he wanted to know her name, but he also knew that he'd regret it if he found out.

Yellow raised her eyebrows in confusion (Bucky was beginning to think that this was a mannerism of hers) but she soon realized what he was getting at and then lowered them. "Okay, so then what do you propose you call me then?"

Bucky wanted to act like he was pondering this question, even when in reality he had made up the nickname in his head. "Yellow, because of your flip-flops."

"Again with the flip-flops! What is with your obsession?!" She counters with a laugh.

"So my name is-" Bucky says with a smile, counteracting her statement.

"Na-ah-ah," Yellow responds, waving her finger in front of Bucky's face as if to scold him, much to his amusement. "If I get a codename, so do you."

"What's it gonna be?" Bucky asks entertained by this entire conversation, and curious to see what nickname she was going to give him.

"Fuckboy." She says, making a definite stance.

"Thank you, for that overwhelming compliment," Bucky responds, slightly taken aback by her brutal remark.

"It's not a bad thing. It's because of your hair." She says, her grin growing wider by the minute.

"My hair?" Bucky responds, not sure of what to do with that piece of information.

"Yes your hair, gives off major Jack Dawson vibes." She counters with a chuckle.

"So Jack is suddenly is suddenly a fuckboy?" Bucky exclaims as he takes another bite of his eggs.

"Need I remind you that he painted women nude in fucking France." She says right before swallowing a bite of her pancakes.

"I get your point, Fuckboy it is," Bucky says with a smile that lights up his entire face, causing a chain reaction on Yellow.

~

Fuckboy was charming. Then again, all fuckboys are charming. But he seemed different, he seemed... Softer. 

"Why are you joining the military, if you don't mind me asking." You exclaim as you twirl your finger around on the rim of your coffee. 

"I dunno; my entire life I just wanted to help people, and I found a way to do that using something I'm good at. Fighting." He exclaims through a full mouth of eggs.

"It sounds like you do know." You say a second before you put another bite of pancake into your mouth.

"Know what?" Fuckboy asks you through a mouth full of eggs.

"Why you're joining the military." You say, your mouth equally as stuffed.

"That's what I tell people." He says, looking over to you with endearing eyes. "I really don't know why. If I think too hard about it I come to the conclusion that it's because I know my life will have come to nothing if I don't do something noteworthy."

His brow creases, and you ponder for a second what your response will be. "How do you know that you'll do something noteworthy in the army? How do you know that your life won't end up as anything no matter how hard you try to make it do the opposite." 

Fuckboy turns to look at you, amusement resting on his features. "Thank you for the vote of encouragement."

"I'm only saying this because I don't think you could ever be nothing. I immediately classified you as a Leonardo DiCaprio type, that's not nothing. You're going to do great thing's whether it's in the military or not."

Fuckboy looks up from his eggs in earnest. "Thank you for saying that, it makes me feel a lot better."

"The trick is to be as brutally honest as possible. You're bound to say at least one thing right if 89% of everything you say is completely and totally devastating bullshit."

You finish off the last bite of your pancake and pick up your suitcase from the floor. "Well, I expect payment from my words of wisdom to be the eight dollars for my pancakes, peace out!"

This conversation had become too emotional, you knew you would have gotten attached if you continued the conversation.

"Wait no!" Fuckboy catches your arm, and your secretly happy that he wanted you to stay with him.

"I don't have to check in until six, so would you like to stay with me until then? I was going to go around some landmarks, and maybe see a broadway show, but I would appreciate it if you stayed with me, for just these few hours."

His forehead was doing that cute crease thing, and you faked internal conflict before saying what was always on your mind through it all: "yes."

His face practically explodes with excitement, and yours does too. You and Fuckboy didn't have forever, but at least you had today. And you were going to live this day as if it were your last.

Part 2

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