#but the alarms went off and i had one of the worst panic attacks of my life by hearing them. even tho i knew there was no danger

[beuxwhoyouare]

Wondering

I don’t really remember much. I suppose that was always my biggest weakness. I’m part of a slug-like species of aliens known as Skreats. Our whole species thing is that they want to take over worlds by taking over the dominant species bodies and using their resources to conquer the universe. Blah blah blah I synthesized my whole life being taught that taking over hosts was my job and all I was supposed to do but what if I don’t want to?

I never payed much attention to all those logs and protocols about conquering. I just wanted to be free of Skreat expectations.

One day I left logging seminars and just hid inside my sectors pod shit hangar. I know I wasn’t supposed to but the ships are so comfortable so I just stay in there and hang for hours. Then all the alarms went off in the hangar, we were under attack but I didn’t want to get in trouble for being where I wasn’t supposed to be. I acted like I was supposed to be there and after a few more of us piled into the ship I commenced launch.

The ship was an escape pod automatically routed to vulnerable planets to conquer. We were headed to E Arth? As we tried to navigate through enemy lines we almost made it to our destination before being shot down in the planets atmosphere. I just fell and then it all went black.

When I came back to consciousness there was no ship near me just a hard cold black runway of some kind, I believe they’re known as roads. It was dark but sirens blared through the night heading towards a blaze in the distance. THE SHIP! I presumed the worst and tried to avoid being stomped on by these tall earthlings walking by me. I thought I found a good hiding place a lobby of some sort but that’s when I was spotted.

An earthling calling me and took me into the shelter of some clear glass container. He murmured words of snail and take care of. I think he’s under the assumption I’m one of these earth creatures.

For days he would give me earthy twigs and shreds of vegetables assuming that I would consume them. I admit I tried but they don’t necessarily make sense to me or my Skreat organs.

He invited other earthlings over some nights some he showed me to and others he got close to but before I could see what their interactions were he’d whisk him away to a private room away from me. But I did learn his name, Harrison.

I’d spend my days observing Harrison or the visuals he would put on his wall display of some sort. He called these things movies. So many of the ones we would watch had stories of love or adventure. It widened my desire to not conquer a world even more. Maybe that’s what I wanted to do. But I couldn’t, not stuck in my current tiny form.

I’m thankful Harrison saved me but I’ve got to level up. I decided to navigate my way out of the container, which I could’ve always done but I needed a plan first.

He was cooking his sustenance after coming back home all wet from his human secretions. With his back turned to me I leaped from the counter onto his waistband.

I consider it a species specialty that we Skreats are very pliable. I flattened out to slip under and find my way into Harrison. As I slithered towards his rounded backside, I began infiltrating and my savior began tensing up. He began to moan, mixing between pleasure and panic as he realized this was not a moment of intimacy but something else.

He began to switch hard to panic as he tried to fight my ascent but it was too late. I hauled it through so many tunnels of organs and vasculature until I got to his core. I guess you call it a heart. I began inserting my tendrils into it and began spreading myself through his bloodstream.

Pulse pulse pulse. I could feel his heart pumping and eventually I synced up with it. We were becoming one, my life purpose was finally being achieved. I had other plans though.

After Harrison took his last gasp for air, I began using my new earthling lungs. It felt like I was breathing too hard, wheezing for air that felt so foreign to me. Reading brainwaves to figure out things like movement and basic terms.

I decided to calm down and slow down. I used my new extremities and flexed my fingers as they’re called. I used them to start feeling my corporal form. Harrison’s lower back arched into a muscular bubble of a butt. I used one hand to slowly caress each curve before squeezing the firm but malleable ass. My other hand roaming across Harrison’s inflated arms and chest. He spent time pushing and pulling plates of metal and cables to get all this as I scanned his brainwaves more.

I’m sure this looked erotic to human beings but I was truly using this moment to discover earthlings.

I began to take off the coverings Harrison was wearing to see the anatomy it was hiding. So many curves and swerves I thought as I traced my host body with my hands. This body is feeling a nervous response called arousal I think.

Something is growing down below on my front area. I place one hand under the blue restraining fabric.

Firm but not hard as metal, the appendage was warm and almost inviting me to grab ahold. I used my new hand and began examining but as I examined and moved it around it felt exciting to go back and forth with it in my muscular hand. I took my other hand and explored the hole I entered through. I slid one finger in before slipping another then another one in.

Unhh

A sound came out of my mouth that I did not intend for. Is this also another nervous response? I began to give into the automatic responses and sped up. My stroking because more rhythmic and hard as I slid my hand up the hole in my backside. And before I could examine the responses another one emerged. A moan and a secretion.

First one then another then the appendage kept spurting out pulse after pulse of white viscous liquids. I was out of breathe in my new lungs. But curiosity struck again as I approached the liquid on a nearby wall. I got close to investigate and touched the sticky goo.

Maybe it’s nutritious or maybe a safety response? Hmm the brainwaves for this haven’t hit me yet. Well instincts haven’t led me astray yet. I opened my new mouth and used my new tongue to lick the wall clean. I wonder if this is how all food is acquired. Hmm.

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

E Pluribrus Unum

pairing: steve harrington x female byers!reader

WC: 4.3K

warnings: cursing, byers interrogation with fist and blood, the fucking russians abusing kids. you get it.

summary: grime reapers in town.

A/N: ALL PARTS UNDER THE TAG - The Byers Harrington Story-

smack cam. also want to make it clear, robin and steve still had their heart to heart when byers was out of the room.

@alecmores​ giving them a heart attack everyday.

series masterlist / steve harrington

previous chapter  next chapter

“They’re trying to open a new gate.” Words that you wished never had to leave your mouth.

You looked at Steve and Dustin and could tell they were thinking the same thing and knew the danger this would be bringing back to Hawkins.

“Guys, we gotta go.” Steve headed back to the door and with a winding arm urged everyone forward and down the stairs. Robin couldn’t stop the questions, “What is that?” “Why do you have that look on your face?” “Byers, are you gonna pass out?”

“I don’t understand. Have you seen this before?” Hurrying down the steps, Robin tried to get answers from the three of you. Dustin gave a vague, “Not exactly.”

“Then what, exactly?” She huffed. “All you need to know is that it's bad.”

“It’s really bad,” Steve added. He was in the back with you, once again holding your hands as it seemed your brain kept shutting down at the worst times. Your eyes just stared in front of you as your ear rang in its high-pitched frequency.

“Like, end-of-the-human-race-as-we-know-it kind of bad.” More dramatic flare from Dustin, but still on the nose. Robin turned to the tween, “And you know about this how?” Wanting to get answers.

No one was able to answer as Erica asked, “Um, Steve? Where’s your Russian friend?” And then a loud alarm went off. You felt like you were trapped on the Death Star about to be gunned down by poorly-aimed Stormtroopers.

“Shit.” Steve pulled the door open and you could see a bunch of people on the other side rushing to your enclosed space. Steve slammed it closed and then started to yell, “Go, go, go, go!” Making everyone go back up the stairs and through the room. “Move! Let’s move!”

All the scientists turned to the open door, but you didn’t have time to stop. “Go! Shit! Shit, shit, shit!”

Dustin went out a side door that led to stairs beside the glowing laser beam and you so badly wished to go back into the room. Dustin came to a stop where the edge cut off and the beam was right in his face. You could barely hear his repetitive cries of “Holy shit! Holy shit! Holy shit!”

There was a tug on your shirt and you turned to see Steve and Erica rushing down a new set of lower stairs, you made sure Robin and Dustin were right behind as you pushed yourself to run forward. More guards came into the room so Steve pushed some barrels hoping to stall them, it was like they were coming from all directions and you were getting overwhelmed.

“Guys! This way!” And Robin took the lead and pushed open a new door. “Come on, quick!”

Steve was right behind you as he shut the door and leaned his weight against it. “Robin!” She rushed over and pushed her small frame onto the door. Erica and Dustin were looking for a way out and you… you just froze.

You fucking froze from fear and panic and dread. You froze when Steve and Robin could use your help or look for a way out with Erica and Dustin or just a weapon if worse comes to worst, but no. You fucking froze and tears were blurring your vision and your feet felt like two-hundred-pound weights, and your arms were buzzing with the sting of a thousand bees. Your breathing was coming in inconsistent rhythms, a sign you were having another panic attack and being a dead weight to everyone.

“(Y/n)! Snap out of it! Get out of here!” Words followed by harsh shakes of your body. You took gasping intakes of air as if you just rose out from the water you were drowning in. Dustin was a frantic mess in front of you, trying to pull you behind him.

“Go! Just get out of here!”

Steve and Robin’s voices made you stop and pull away from Dustin. “(Y/n)! We have to go!” The younger boy shouted. “Just- Just go! I’ll be right behind!” Not wanting him or Erica to wait for you.

“(Y/n), don’t you dare stay! Get the hell out of here!” Steve was shouting at you. “The kids need you!” Robin was also telling you to leave, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t decide between leaving them behind or keeping the kids safe, you know realistically you should be with the kids. You’re the adult for them, they need protection. But you can’t leave your boyfriend or best friend to the Russians, you just can’t.

“I’m- I’m staying. Now shut up.” 

The door burst open before they could shout at you some more. Steve’s body was knocked into you causing your body to hit the wall harder and bang your head. You groaned with your eyes closed, ears honing in on all the guns cocking in front of the three of you. All your hands were held in the air, showing you had no weapons and weren’t a threat, just idiot kids in stupid clothes.

The guards parted so an older man could be front and center. His face was wrinkled and twisted into a grimace, his hands were held behind his back as his shiny black boots stopped in front of your dirty sneakers. His soulless eyes traced each one of you, head tilting before straightening.

“Well… what do we have here?” His Russian accent is thick on his English words. He looked to a guard beside him and jerked his head. The soldier marched forward and wrapped a tight grip around your left bicep. He pulled you off the floor to stand in front of his boss, you squirmed and twisted, hoping to get his touch off your skin.

“Hey! Let go of her!” Steve yelled and you heard shuffling behind you. Barely a glance over your shoulder you saw Steve being held down by two guards. “Get your disgusting hands off her!” His usually soft and homey eyes were hardened and terrified, mouth in a firm line with his nostrils flaring.

The boss man stepped too close, practically chest to chest with each other. He leaned his face in close and then held your cheeks in a tight grip. “You are a pretty one. And I see you have… special someone.” He dropped his hand and his eyes stared Steve down, “Well… this will be fun. Da?”

-

“Let go of me asshole!” Your hands were cuffed behind your back and thrown over a bulky man’s shoulder as if you were a bag of flour. The same goes for Robin and Steve, though Steve was only cuffed and walking behind you and Robin, your eyes catching his white Nikes.

You twisted your neck, trying to look at Steve in the awkward position. You could see the red spot on his jaw where he got punched for trying to stop them from touching you or Robin. You tried to convey so many words and emotions through your eyes alone, hoping it would be enough for Steve.

You were thrown off the man’s shoulder and back on your feet, blood rushing from your head making you stumble just a bit. You almost wanted to thank the man when he undid the cuffs from your wrist, rubbing at the irritated skin. There was an open door in front of you and Robin and you could feel the press of a gun to your spin, it made you stiffen and hold your breath.

“Move.” One-word command. You took two measly steps forward with Robin at your side.

When you looked over your shoulder hoping to see Steve just behind you, you turned on your foot when you saw him getting dragged away further down the hall. You tried to follow but were stopped by a human blockade, their arms and guns pushing you to the door.

“Steve! Stevie!” He too was thrashing against his captures. Steve was shouting and trying to kick at shins and knees, yelling for you and Robin. “Don’t you dare touch them! Not one fucking hair on their head!”

They got tired of all the shouting so they shoved the butt of a gun against his head before dragging him away and out of sight. And they just shoved you in the back causing you to trip over your feet and hit the linoleum flooring, Robin falling just beside you.

“Hey! Hey, assholes!” Pushing from the floor and throwing your body into the metal door, looking through the tiny window. No one was outside. “Steve! Steve!” Yelling his name even if he couldn’t hear you.

You didn’t bother putting up more of a fight when it was clear no one was around to hear your pleas. A sneaker foot wacks the metal with a dull thud followed by a deep groan before you walk away. You were stuck in a sterile, empty room with Robin and Steve was somewhere dealing with who knows what from the Russians.

“Why’d they only take Steve?” A quiver to Robin’s voice. She stayed on the floor with her arms wrapped around your knees.

A hand pushed your messy front strands as you paced back and forth with a hand on your hip, “He’s the only guy. Saw how protective he was of us, I don’t know. All I know is they aren’t gonna play nice with us for long before it starts feeling like home.” Left hand rubbing over your cheeks, the older man’s face mixed with flashes of Lonnie.

“We just need to tell them the truth. That’s it, I mean, do we look like spies for the government? It looks like our parents dressed us as if we’re five-year-olds.” Robin went on a tangent.

You weren’t sure how long it was, could’ve been five minutes or thirty, your brain too occupied with Steve’s whereabouts. But when you and Robin stopped talking or kicking random objects in the space, you could hear something. Faint noises that grew closer by the second, squeaks and taps. You rushed to the door and stuck your face to the window opening, craning your head to get any inch of the hallway to see where it was coming from.

To your left, you saw two guards with Steve in the middle. He was slumped forward with his hands bound in cuffs, feet dragging behind him and his head bobbed with each step they took. You couldn’t see the state of his face with him tilted forward, but with him not being able to walk wasn’t a good sign. “Stevie…” Breath fogging the glass.

They stopped outside the door and banged their fist into the metal when they saw you. You flinched at the loud noise and backed away, just wanting them to bring your Steve into your arms. Two steps inside before they threw him down to the floor. You tried to catch most of his weight, not wanting him to hit his head, with his dead weight your knees buckled and brought the two of you down.

“Steve? Steve?” Robin grabbed him by the shoulder and helped roll him gently to the floor. He laid on his back with his legs sprawled out, cuffed hands sitting on his stomach. His breathing was shallow, but it was there, he still had a pulse.

“Stevie? Baby?” Hands hovering over his bruised and bloodied face. His left eye was swollen and puffy with dark blue and purple color ringing the whole area. There was so much dried blood from his nose and down his mouth that it dripped to his chest and the top of his shirt. His hair was wet with sweat, your right hand pushing the limp strands away from his forehead. Closed mouth quivering, trying to hold your tears back.

“What’d you do? What did you do to him?” Robin yelled at the commanding officer and he back-handed her in the cheek. “Robin!” The man doing the same action to you. Another flash of Lonnie crossed your mind.

He was speaking Russian and then his two lackeys grabbed two chairs from the room and sat them back to back. One took Robin and the other took Steve then tied a black belt over their biceps and stomach. “What are you doing? Huh? We’re just ice cream workers! We don’t know shit!” Spewing words as Robin grunted against the binding.

Once the two men tied Robin and Steve, they pulled you off the floor and rebuffed your wrist, and slid an arm through yours. “Let go of me assholes!” Stepping on their feet, they didn’t flinch.

The boss man stood in front of Steve and grabbed a fist of his hair to lean his head back. “Don’t you fucking touch him!” Thrashing in your hold. He just tutted his tongue and dropped Steve’s head. Robin called for him, trying to get him to respond, but he was out cold.

“I think your friend needs a doctor.” He spoke in his Russian heavy English. He walks in front of Robin and you have a clear view of his bulging eyes. “Good thing…” He leaned in close, “We have the very best.” He looked at you and the two guards then just… laughed. Like he just told an inside joke that only the three of them understood, and you guessed that was the case.

His eyes dropped down to Robin and you heard the wet sound of spit that she launched onto his face, hitting his mouth. You smirked at her attitude. He used a white cloth to clean his face, “You are going to regret that, little bitch.”

More orders were spoken and the door beeped open. His guards started to drag you away, you tried planting your feet firmly on the ground as if you were a child again not wanting to do something. “No! No, Robin!” Both of you called each other names before the door closed behind you. “Fucking bastards!” Yanking and tugging your arms, but their fingers were curled tight into your muscle.

“I wouldn’t bother.” The commander stated as he walked in front. “If you cooperate, we won’t hurt your friends.”

You couldn’t help the scoff, “Oh, like what you did to Steve? I’m sure he was cooperating, yet he’s bloody and can’t see out of one eye! So you’re lucky I’m tied up 'cause I’m just waiting for the moment where I can sink my thumbs into your eyes.” Venom dripping from your words, not fucking around anymore. The older man just laughed, head thrown back in pure glee at your words.

He looked over his shoulder and shook his head with an annoying smile, “You are funny. We’ll see how long that lasts.” Another door opened and you were brought inside. They threw you down onto a metal bench that was built into the bare walls. The space was the size of your bathroom at home, tiny four walls boxing you in.

Commander stood tall with his hands held behind his back, an ugly mug staring you down, a shadow from his hat shading his dark eyes. The goons, one on each side, kept their arms down and fingers curled into fists. You can already tell how you’re gonna look coming out of this.

“Who do you work for?” He sounded bored of asking the same question that you assumed he asked Steve multiple times.

“I work for Scoops Ahoy. The ice cream shop in the mall above us, guys, come on. Get some sunlight or you’ll-” Goon to your right stepped forward and threw a hard punch to your stomach making you lean over your thighs. You groaned as the air was pushed from your lungs while talking. “Fuck… you.”

He huffed a humorless laugh, “You are a feisty girl. Don’t worry, you’ll break quickly.” He nodded at thing two and he swung a fist into your jaw. Your head turned with the impact and it took a second for the white-hot pain to register in your brain. Wiggling the bone trying to asset the pain and possible damage, you heard a crack but nothing serious. “Who do you work for?” 

The eye-roll you sent was like you honed the spirit of Erica when she didn’t get her free raspberry swirl sample. “I work in an ice cream parlor dealing with grouchy moms and obnoxious middle schoolers. Do- Do you think I wear this for fun?” Pointing out your sailor costume.

His eyes drilled into your skull as he asked, “How did you get here?”

“Look, grandpa, our shipment was missing. So me and my friends checked where it was dropped off, the door was open so we went inside to check for it. Then it closed and dropped us to the pits of hell. And I’m still out of rocky road ice cream.” Head leaned against the cold wall as you sighed. So you were caught off guard by another punch to your face, aimed at your cheek from the right. Another hit to your ribs followed, then another, and another. You couldn’t even get a steady breath before it sputtered out of your mouth.

Boney fingers grip your chin, mouth pursed and brows angled at the front. His spit splattered your lower face as he harshly repeated, “Who do you work for and how did you get here?”  A low groan, “Do you need hearing aids?” Voice even and grated with his tight hold, “I sell ice cream and I was looking for a shipment.”

He dropped your chin. His back was turned and he flicked a hand at the guy to the left. He took five steps then punched you right in the nose, the crunch echoing in the four-by-four room. Your skull was pounding from all the hits it took in quick succession, the broken nose, and blood the cherry on top. Eyes closed with your head tilted back to slow the blood, trying to stop any tears from showing up, and just wishing to see your mom at this moment.

“Well, it seems you and your friend have worked well on this… cover story. But don’t worry, we have something to loosen the tongue. Why don’t we rejoin your friends?” He barked commands, the door beeped open and you were dragged back to your starting spot.

-

The man was chuckling when he entered the room and you didn’t know why until you were harshly shoved in the back and fell to the floor, knees and palms hurting. You coughed a few times as you looked to see Steve and Robin on the floor, still tied to their chairs. Steve was awake now and you just sighed, letting your head rest on the cool ground.

“Where were you two going?” Acting like he was doing a stand-up set. He tutted his teeth as they were picked up from the ground and then you were tied to the dentist-style chair. Their doctor was messing around with something.

“Baby?” Steve’s voice was rough, it made you sad thinking about all the screaming he must have done. You tilted your head towards him with a bloody grin, “Hi, Stevie.”

“What happened?” And he sounded so broken. All you could do was shrug, “I told the truth.”

“Yes, try to tell the truth. It will make your visit with Dr. Zharkov less painful.” Grime reapers hand was touching Steve’s face and hair, poking at his tender spots. “Get your filthy hands off my boy! You fucking corpse!” Bound feet hitting the vinyl of the seat.

He chuckles before stepping away and the doctor wanders toward Steve with a needle in hand and a mad scientist looks buzzing within his gaze. “Wait, wait. What- What is that?” Evil Russian scientist simply said, “It will help you talk.” He gripped Steve's hair and leaned his head to his shoulder and stuck the needle in. “Steve! Steve! What the fuck?!”

He grabbed a second needle and did the same thing to Robin. Then finally you were last, whimpering as the long scarp point pierced the skin of your neck and injected whatever it was. “Now we wait.” And they left the room.

You weren’t sure what the hell the crazy doctor poked you with, but you could already feel something flowing through your system. Your eyelids were getting heavy causing you to blink multiple times trying to keep them open and aware. Head felt fuzzy, almost like the room was spinning. “What the…Am I high?” What if they just injected thc into your bloodstream… is that even a thing?

“Honestly, I don’t feel anything,” Steve mumbled. “Do you?�� Question pointed to Robin as they learned their heads together. “I mean, I… I feel fine. I feel normal.” “Yeah, I feel- I feel fine.”

They were quiet for a moment, eyes watching the wall. You felt a mix of wanting to sleep and wanting to throw up, your body giving up its fight against your restraints.

“I feel good,” Steve chuckled, which caused Robin to chuckle. With your eyes closed you could only hum at their joyish sounds.

“Wanna know a secret?” Robin’s voice is up an octave. “What?” A low mutter from you, but Steve asked louder. “I like it, too!” More laughter fills the room. “I missed being high,” Head lulling on your heavy neck as you talked lowly to yourself.

“Morons. They messed up the drug.” “They messed it up!”

“Morons.” “Hey, morons!” “Morons!” All three of you constantly calling them morons, voices yelling and only reaching your ears.

“Oh, no. There’s definitely something wrong with us.” Robin mussed. “Something’s wrong,” All Steve repeated.

The loud buzzing stopped all conversation and giggling. A guard with a gun, grime reaper, and doctor psycho waltz into the room. The doctor had a black bag that he sent on a table before pulling things out one by one, like Mary Poppins. The commander stood in front of Steve like earlier, hands behind his back and stone-faced.

“Am I- Am I getting a lobotomy? Dad always said- said it was a choice. Cause of my- my problem.” Humorless chuckles as that conversation bounced in your cranium. A sigh in defeat.

“Would now be a good time to tell you that I don’t like doctors?” And you can’t decipher if Robin is serious or just joking.

They didn’t play into either of your questions. Just cutting to the chase, “Let’s try this again, yes? Who do you work for?”

“Scoops,” Saying the word like a melody. Steve also restated, “Scoops Ahoy.” And you just laughed.

“How did you find us?” “Question two already?” Blurted from your mouth. “Totally by accident.” All Steve said.

A deep sigh followed by Russian. With hooded eyes, you watched as the doctor grabbed a silver tool and walked toward Steve and Robin. “What is that shiny little toy?” “Where you going with that, doc?” Babbling words.

He grabbed Steve’s hand, “Whoa, whoa, hey, hey. Wait! No! Wait! Wait!”

“There was a code! We heard a code!” Robin yelled over Steve’s panic. The Russians shared a look and the commander walked to Robin’s side. “Code? What code?” And Robin repeated the phrase she translated within a day. “You broadcast that stupid spy shit all over town, and we picked it up on our Cerebro, and we cracked it in a day. A day!”

“Well, really just you.” Babbled to boost Robin’s ego. She continued on her tangent, “You think you’re so smart, but a couple of kids who scoop ice cream for a living cracked your code in a day, and now, people know you’re here.”

“Who knows we are here, little bitch?” His temper was short.

“Uh, well Dustin knows.” Oh. Oh, yeah that’s not good. “Hey, Steve?” “Stevie, don’t-” Both you and Robin tried to get him to stop but he wasn’t picking up any hints. “Yeah, Dustin Henderson, he knows.” “Steve!” Robin yelled. He just laughed, not knowing he just threw a kid under the bus.

“Dustin Henderson.” The Russian repeated, “It is your small, curly-haired friend?”

“How do you know?” Wondering if he was safe was interrupted by Steve, “Oh, curly-haired. Great hair. Small. Kind of like a ‘fro. Yeah.”

“Where is he?” So that answered your question on his safety. He and Erica were safe or- “He’s long gone, you big asshole. And he’s probably calling Hopper, and Hopper’s calling the US cavalry.” Which you suggested should have been step two instead of…what is this? Step eight? “They’re gonna come in here, commando-style, guns a-blazin’, and kick your sorry asses back to Russia. You’re gonna be two pieces of toast.” Steve snickered after letting his tongue roll.

Your eyes tracked how the man crouched down and leaned close to Steve. “Is that so?” Not believing a word from Steve’s mouth. Steve, even drugged, was acting cocky. “Yeah.” The one word brought back the giggles of Robin and Steve as you lay motionless.

Everyone was laughing, two drugged people not fully aware of their surroundings and two dangerous people who don’t give a shit what happens to them. And you’re just watching from the sidelines, high off your ass and strapped down. And fearing for the worse, the sound of that loud blaring alarm went off, forcing all voices to stop and look towards the door.

The commander eyed all three of you before rushing out of the room only leaving the doctor behind. You hoped for backup and not a natural disaster ready to kill you. There were still snickers from Steve or Robin before the door slammed open and a yelling Dustin with a weapon came barreling in. He zapped the doctor in the chest before he fell to the floor unconscious. Three seconds of silence and then Steve cheered, “Hey! Henderson! That’s crazy, I was just talking about you.”

Dustin and Erica were busy untieing Steve and Robin and you were getting antsy. “Get ready to run,” Dustin informed them. “Hello? Help! Please!” Worried they might leave you behind. Erica came to your aid when Robin was freed and stumbling like a baby deer.

“Baby! Oh, baby!” Steve cried for you as he threw his arms over your shoulders. “Gross! Now come on!” Dustin pushed the both of you out of the room. He ran ahead while you held Steve’s hand and pulled him behind you.

-

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*STRIKED MEANS TUMBLR CANT FIND YOU*

[solesommerso]

whumptober 2023 day 1 : shaking

Chicago med, Sarah/Noah

warnings : anxiety attacks, crying, this isn’t ethan bashing i swear he just irks me sometimes, mentions of noah having bad parents

Sarah moves lightly through the kitchen, humming under her breath as she picks up the dirty dishes from the dinner her and Noah just had with April and Ethan. She thinks it went alright, about as good as any dinner can go with Ethan and Noah in the same room. There’s still unresolved tension that they pretend isn’t there but Sarah sees it, she doesn’t think April does.

“Noah, you gonna leave me all the dishes?” She calls over her shoulder and scrubs at the glass dish that held the lasagna Noah made tonight. It’s one of the only recipes that he got from his parents, Sarah knows because he only makes it when April’s coming over, and he always throws away any leftovers. Never taking them for lunch the next day. Never letting them sit in their apartment for more than a night.

“S-sorry. I can take over.” Noah comes up behind Sarah, his voice cracking slightly before he clears his throat and dives his hands into the soapy water in the sink.

“What’s wrong?” No matter how hard she tries, she can’t see his eyes. It’s something Sarah noticed almost immediately after moving in with Noah, he’s great at avoiding eye contact, at avoiding hard topics, at pretending he’s fine.

“Nothing.” There’s an attempt of a laugh following the words but it sounds too pain filled to be real.

“Don’t lie to me Noah, you’re bad at it.” The smile he gives to Sarah is more real than the laugh, his eyes meeting hers for a split second, he looks on the edge of panicking. The alarms bells in Sarah’s head go off immediately and and she wraps her hand loosely around Noah’s upper arm to take him over to their dining table to sit, eyes growing wide when she sees his hands are shaking once they emerge out of the water.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Her free hand cups his cheek out of instinct as they sit across from one another, Noah looking anywhere but Sarah.

“I think he hates me.” His voice trembles, far too quiet for Sarah to think it’s coming from Noah, it has to be somebody else. It can’t be her best friend, he’s far too happy, too eccentric and loud, always trying to make people’s days better, always a shoulder for someone to lean on. He’s never looked this small in all the time Sarah’s known him.

“What? Ethan doesn’t hate you, that’s ridiculous.” It comes out of her mouth before she can think about how that is the worst thing she can say. It’s invalidating and she can see how Noah shrinks farther in on himself hearing it. She’s a damn psych resident and can’t even the first sentence right, nice.

“He does, I know he does. I just- I know that I wasn’t great when I first started at med but I think I’m better now- or- or I thought I was getting better, I’ve tried everything to make it up to him. He’s dating April, she loves him, what if she chooses him over me? What if she cuts me off and tells me I’m a horrible person and—?” Sarah puts her hands on Noah’s shoulders before he can continue to spiral into what will no doubt lead to a panic attack.

“Deep breath, in and out. Mirror me.” Her breaths are exaggerated maybe a little more than they need to be but Noah says nothing and does as he’s told, trying to match Reese’s breathing pattern.

“I hate this.” Stray tears slip down Noah’s cheeks as he leans into Sarah, her arms naturally falling to wrap around his back, his head resting against her shoulder as their breathing becomes more relaxed.

“I know. I wish I could fix it.” If Sarah could she’d go sit Ethan down and lecture him about letting things go, tell him to get over himself because Noah is a great doctor and he’s proved himself over and over again. She doesn’t have the guts to do it, and Noah would probably pass out if she did.

“I can’t lose April, she’s the only family I have left.” While Sarah hasn’t heard what happened between Noah and his parents, she knows it’s not good, and she knows April has zero idea that he’s gone no contact with them. It’s one of those secrets that Noah keeps as close to his chest as he can, sometimes she worries how many other secrets he has like that.

“You won’t, she’s your sister and she’ll always be your sister. Ethan can’t take that away.” Her hands pull Noah’s face away from her neck, still a little damp from the sink water, nonetheless her thumbs brush against his cheeks gently.

“But she can tell me it doesn’t mean anything.” The hurt in Noah’s voice is practically tangible, Sarah can’t help but suck in a small breath at it.

“Then that’s her loss. But you can’t jump to that, you still have her. We made it through that dinner and we’ll make it through the next, okay?” He nods faintly, leaning to rest his forehead against Sarah’s.

“Do you really think it’s ridiculous that Ethan hates me?” A light smile shows on Sarah’s face as leans in to press a soft kiss to Noah’s lips.

“Yes. But I shouldn’t have said that, not very psychology resident of me.”

[howveryheather]

my year of detoxing

In a sea of social media posts where seemingly everyone I know is hitting nothing but picture perfect traditional milestones — engagements, marriages, babies, houses — there’s gotta be one person who will be honest enough to talk about some of the moments which never get photographed because they aren’t made for it. I’m doing this for everyone who is drying themselves out. Maybe someone reading is going through this right now. Maybe they will in 10 years time. Or maybe they never get to this place and keep a cocktail of pills flowing for the rest of their life. (I hope they don’t.) 

I worked hard this year to gradually wean myself off of my longest relationship to date: Xanax.

*

I’ve been taking Xanax since 2017, a few years after my first panic attack and a handful of medication starts and stops later. This was the one which clicked for me. The first time I took it I was on a plane. It lulled me into immediate sleep while everyone was still boarding. I woke up when we had been in the air for about an hour and ordered myself a sandwich and a drink. 

I felt incredible. Seriously, it was the best I’ve ever felt in my life. Everything was so serene. When you feel this good, you are willing to do whatever you need to so you can keep this feeling for as long as possible.

Flash forward to 2018 and 2019 when I was paying off my student loans and later 2020 in the pandemic, 2021, and 2022. In the final three years, I was cycling through the pills too frequently. Usually a lot more than 10 MGs a week. 

Xanax acted as a sleeping supplement more than anxiety aid. Almost everything happening in my life at the time was shaking hands with some other form of insanity. Every time I go back into my brain and remember this period of time, every time I attempt to write about it in a deeper way, there are so many moments where I wonder “Was it all so bad?” Yes it was, Heather’s brain. I had to build my own version of Rome in a few short years and there were all these shitty concessions I had to make to get there. Back then, I needed those pills to guarantee nine to 10 hours of sleep every night so I didn’t completely drop all the balls I was constantly juggling. My mood when I started to run out of my prescription was revealing of how close to the edge my overall sanity had become. The worst day for me was the two to three day period when the bottle was empty and I needed a refill. I despaired when I didn’t immediately receive one like clockwork, wailing hysterically on the inside. I rejoiced, buoyant with selfish happiness, only when I had a full vial.

With such emotional highs and lows, it shouldn’t come as much surprise I lashed out when my doctor suggested it was time to begin weaning me off in February 2023. Everything about this ask felt like a personal attack even if was meant to mitigate the issue of me taking way too many pills on a weekly basis. I did not like the implication I had a problem. I felt frightened at the prospect of losing the one thing in my life which could guarantee falling asleep in 10 minutes and not waking up once until the alarm went off. And I was filled with seething contempt thinking about the people I am loosely acquainted with that go on Instagram and post pictures in their Stories of themselves using the #zoloft hashtag with no added context. They kept their meds while mine were being taken away. 

Mostly though, I felt alone. There were not many people I could talk to about what was going on with me. What good would it do if I could? It wasn’t like someone else could wean me off for me. The sounding board was myself. 

Sometimes I need an initial outburst, a flood of feelings, a moment to react, before I can start to warm to suggestions and accept them. For as terrible as being off Xanax sounded, I wasn’t born on medication. I felt confident I could rise to the challenge and wean myself down to a smaller weekly dose. I believed, eventually, I could get off them completely though I had no real idea of when it would happen. Date TBD. My doctor had set a timeline for me to get down to half the dose by June. Over the months ahead, I started to wean myself down from 10 MG to 2 MG each week of benzos and then from 2 MGs to none each week.

The first month I committed to doing this was agonizing. I did it in gradual stages. First, I stopped taking medication on the weekends. Then, I started easing into going one day in the work week without it. None of it was enjoyable. I had to readjust my body to not receiving medication it had come to rely on for sleep at night. It was harder than ever to coax my mind and body to sleep during normal nighttime hours. I took afternoon naps or slept in the off hours whenever I felt tired. I could not get the 10 hours of sleep at night I was accustomed to anymore, so I figured I needed to meet exhaustion the moment I felt it.

I was tired when the sun rose. I was so tired. I drank coffee and dealt with it. I did feel victorious enough I had been able to get back three nights a week without taking anything. I decided to start going several weeknights in a row without Xanax.

This is when it felt like every brain cell I had was waging a revolution against me. My brain kept me perpetually wide awake. I’d get in bed at 10 PM and lie there as my brain and body screamed “I don’t know how to shut down!!!!!” Hours had passed by the time I’d fall asleep. I’d close my eyes for what felt like 30 minutes and I would wake up exhausted. 

Everything felt too bright in the mornings. Sharp with a bizarre copper aftertaste. Too much sunlight. I needed sunglasses like I was hungover. There was a strange amount of irritation and aggression in the air. I silently despised my doctor calling this “my detox.” Though I did accept it. It happened. I was changing things.

The greatest worry I had about weaning off Xanax was my writing. I was scared I wouldn’t be able to write anymore or juggle my heavy workload off of medication. At first, I was noticeably slower. Once my body acclimated to being off benzos and staying off, I discovered it didn’t change how I wrote or the work I did or the passion I had for it. The heart of me was still alive and beating. If anything, my writing got much better.

Like all things which are unhealthy for you, I wanted Xanax more than anything in the world. My body ached for it. I missed the mornings after taking the pills the most. I used to feel like I waking up in a cloud. Hazy, pretty, pink days. Back when I would get refills, I had a “refill ritual.” I would go to Rite Aid and pick up my prescription. Then I would walk next door to Fresh Brothers. I would order a personal pizza and eat it after taking my dose. Benzos used to make me hungry.

My doctor and I talked about what I could take to relax myself during my weaning. It was suggested I try taking melatonin and valerian root. I started taking melatonin and it helped me sleep so much better at night. I take it every night now.

I was still weaning, even with melatonin. I had time to think during the traditional sleep hours. 

*

In the darkness, hours away from sleep, I’d lie in my bed and psychoanalyze my personal life.

I thought about how so few of the major friendships or relationships in my lifetime have been privy to all the “eras” of Heather. Only a small handful of people have seen me through most of the timelines of who I am. Sometimes this is a distressing thought. The idea that everyone is only ever meeting me and knowing me at the age I am now. The history of a relationship with me – as friends, as lovers, as acquaintances — is always going to be quite young moving forward and just as short as it was in the past. 

Often, I wonder what kind of space I occupy in someone’s life. 

What does any one person who considers me a friend really think of me? Is anyone having fun? Did we learn anything? 

This year, I asked myself big questions about people I had in my orbit or on the outskirts of it. These questions related to friends and lovers alike. Were we friends or did we work at the same company? Did I like this man I had been dating or was I trying to fit into some sort of impossible mold of a woman he wanted and would not budge on which I couldn’t be for him? What did I have to gain from these people? How did I become a better person because of them? How did they contribute to my growth, my happiness, my sense of self? 

Everything hit a head when I came to the most important reckoning of all. Did I want these people to be in my life or was I addicted to the serotonin rush of seeing their messages and believing these messages were a sign of being wanted and needed? 

*

I had not taken any Xanax for a month on August 9. I was less than a week of embarking into a massive project at work, something I had been working on since May.

Over the last few years, I have been lucky to make many inroads with my career. This last summer was the hardest I’ve ever worked in my entire life. It beat out the summer I spent working on the Icons Gala event by a mile. I spent three months deeply immersed in a sponsored series I was leading while still working on the other dozen daily items I was responsible for and doing all of my freelance on the side. In August, most of my days started at 6:30 AM and ended after 4 PM. I ate, slept, breathed my job. You’d think this would be something unpleasant, that I grew to hate it or I felt stressed out or there was some part of me that struggled somewhere but none of this is true. I was incredibly busy, but it felt good. I had a pep in my step, a balance to what a normal person would think was way too heavy of a workload for one person. Truth is, it has been like this since I started this job. I never worry or feel pressured because I like what I do. I really like it! (For whatever reason if I did feel pressured, I like knowing how I could always tell my managers and they’d help me dial it down.)

It was a successful sponsorship and we hit nearly all of our impression goals. The sponsorship lasted two months. 61 days. Not a day passed where I did not give it my full attention. When site traffic was so-so — not super high and not super low, in a strange floating middle ground I didn’t really like — I went back to the blueprint. I came up with more ideas and wrote that content up for a boost. Every little bit counts.

I felt like crying when I heard how pleased the sponsor was with the results because it was the first sponsorship I led on my own. I had worked so hard on it. My manager went on maternity leave while there was still another month left and then it really was me taking the lead. 

I am at a place where I am pleased with my writing. It feels and reads stronger than ever. I’ve even gotten into the habit of teaching myself as I go along. This year, I took over more writing responsibilities in the shopping and saving money vertical. I’ve been reading up on what months you should buy everything and why and studying the savings catalogs from warehouse clubs to pitch and write content. I even apply this level of research to writing about cars as a person who doesn’t drive. Since I don’t shop very much, I like the humor found in a non-shopper dishing up recommendations each month on the best clothes, appliances, and bulk food to buy.

I feel challenged by what I write about, fulfilled by the end product, empowered to make decisions I think will take the content into the best direction, and humbled by how many people tell me they love and follow my writing. 

My work has given me the confidence to live the life of my dreams and not consider the bottom falling out. There is no more bottom at this stage. I’m running up against 10,000+ hours of my craft in action. I believe everything will work because I see it work every single day. 

*

When I’m off Xanax, I feel different now than I used to on the nights I would take the pills. My days don’t feel like the words I used to mention them anymore. The light isn’t sharp. It’s soft. Blue creeps into the sky each morning. I keep my window blinds open at night so the morning sunlight can wake me up every day. There’s not really aggression in the air like there is people trying to stir themselves awake however they can. The days feel like my to-do list of work items. A reminder of life and seasons all around me. Every day feels less like some kind of muted hangover and more like a quiet celebration. I lost the pretty pink haze. I gained dusty blue hues.

My watershed moment happened July 9. That was a Sunday, the one night of the week dedicated to taking my pills. I chose not to do it. 

I had more than enough reasons why I could have done it ahead of the next day. I had three articles due, a meeting to attend, an inbox to tackle, and projects and assignments to address for the sponsorship.

All of this happens, quite literally, every single day at my job. I thought about the worst that could happen. The worst thing would be my absence. If I didn’t show up. If I didn’t do my part. There was no other worst thing to anticipate. When I thought of it like this, I realized I would be fine. I took the melatonin instead. 

The next week I referred to the melatonin again. Then it became two weeks, three weeks, and a month. Then two months, three months, and even more months since I took any benzos. Your great big achievements often happen when you’re not looking directly at them.

I’d end that sentence with an exclamation mark except I can’t yet. There’s a “still” component in this work. The weaning is still ongoing. 

The side effects are still around. I still have nights where I can’t sleep well. I don’t think this approach to weaning means I’ll have it all figured out by the end of this year. It will take some more time yet to get me back to where I think I once was. 

I feel like I’ve beaten past the worst of it. I don’t ache for Xanax anymore. I don’t think about it. I don’t miss it. 

I do acknowledge it. I took those pills for a long time so it would be strange to act like it never happened especially since there was a time when they really did help me deal with a lot of stressors. I taught myself how to let the behavior go. Letting go felt impossible in February. It felt scary (what do I do without it?) and humiliating (how did I allow myself to develop this kind of dependency?) and hard (another Rome to build). It’s amazing how possible a good habit can become with the passing of time and commitment. 

*

I think about the silence of this summer and the quiet of this year. Outside of this blog post, and I was reluctant to write it, there is almost no one to tell or share progress. It’s not the thing you show and tell. I am my own accountability partner. I like to think I have been doing a good job, even though getting hype about not taking prescription meds anymore is not the thing you think you’re going to be doing at this age, at this juncture of life. 

Then again, what am I supposed to be doing right now?

On the surface, I do know what I should be doing now. My writing talks about it every day. I should be swiftly approaching various milestones like finding my soulmate and getting married, having a child, buying a car (and uh, getting a license!), and buying a home. 

The lack of traditional milestones I have under my belt used to distress me. These days though, I am not particularly afraid or worried about whether I’ll ever reach these milestones. I have other priorities. 

*

This month, I have gotten back to one of my oldest loves again. Reading books.

It’s embarrassing for me to admit how much I read now is so... little. It’s a miracle if I read an entire book in a year. I had a laundry list of excuses for why I don’t read. The list starts with the expired library card belonging to a library in a city I no longer live in. It ends with my proclivity to clean in my spare time or bed rot after writing all week to recharge the creative batteries.

I keep reflecting on how adulthood is the place where you resurrect your love for everything you liked as a kid and it meets you tenfold. I loved books when I was younger. Loved to read and had a great time doing it.

My previous library card expired during the pandemic. A few weeks ago, I went to the Sherman Oaks Library and got a library card there. This was something I had been putting off since moving to the area. I still sometimes buy books, though many books I wind up buying often turn out not to be particularly good. Trendy and not worth a second read. 

For all the time I had been out of the reading game, I kept a running list of books I wanted to read. I put them into the notes app on my phone and I saved a list in the Barnes and Noble wishlist. I decided to check out two books at a time from this list. Two is manageable. Two is a reasonable amount to read with as many hours I work a week. In a previous life, I would leave the library with a stack of books rivaling my height. 

Advertising Week, my long-time freelance gig, is moving its site properties to the company which owns it. This kind of in-flux movement never happens. I’ll get to write again in January 2024. For the first time in seven years, I am not freelancing in the final weeks of the year. As much as I enjoy AW, it feels freeing to not be spending every waking hour attached to the keyboard.

My spare time has been spent back in the company of books. Reading again makes me feel like I never took such a long pause. 

When I read fiction, I feel like I’m on the run. I’m galloping through the pages, engrossed in the lives of all these people who will never exist (can never exist) and getting invested in their full pockets of the world and the dramas of their lives. I want to shake some of the characters for making stupid decisions, I tear up when they grieve for losses, and I roll my eyes at some of the verbs writers overuse. (Everyone is always taking “swigs” of drinks. Swigs of water, swigs of wine, swiggy swig swigs. It’s obnoxious and amusing at once. Bring back the gulp!) I’ve always considered books to be the last frontier of non-algorithm restricted content. It’s heartening to see nothing has changed. 

On that note, my mind has been more lively than ever these days thinking up little story ideas and tucking them away. Short stories, fiction, SNL sketches, etc. 

My internal story machine is letting its wacky flag fly. I like to write down the weird ideas that make me smile or laugh a little. Last weekend, I had an idea for a short story about a grown woman who is trying to shed her embarrassing youthful image of winning the Guinness World Record for the longest amount of time spent throwing up on an airplane. I called it “Barf Face.” 

The weird stuff is what I think people remember about me. I took a screenwriting class in college. In one of my scripts, a character ends up in a back brace after falling out of a hayride. In high school, I wrote a short story about a woman getting knocked out by a falling shelf of frozen pizzas and dying in the freezer aisle of the grocery store. 

I do like to find the humor in the absurdity of life. Often, and especially now more than ever, there is a great need to present oneself as aesthetically pleasing and universally enjoyable to everyone. I think of it as making yourself into McDonald’s. It’s all carefully executed and distressingly, demands some conformity to what the majority likes so many people will blindly like your content. Humans are not supposed to be Big Macs.

Real life reminds me of that one time from when I was little. I had a brand new sparkling pink coat. I wore it out on a winter day in late February when the snow was melting and beamed with pride as I waited for the light to change at the crosswalk. Then a bus drove past me and covered the coat in brown sludge. I was horrified. It was real. It was life!

That’s not to say I’m always thinking about weird shit upstairs. I’ve got stories with a lot of heart and soul. Most are on the topic of friendship which I feel never gets discussed on the same level as romantic love. I keep those ideas a little closer to me. I am less likely to talk about them out loud because I care about them. They do exist though and they flutter around and around.

*

At the tail end of this year, I was writing a few pieces about money-themed New Year’s resolutions. All the ones that don’t work tend to have a few things in common. They’re often pretty vague, resolutions like saving more money or eating out less. 

What works is a resolution where you go in with a plan and have set steps you’re willing to follow to reach said resolution. 

I thought about this in the context of some of my former New Year’s resolutions. These were all pretty half-baked endeavors: resolutions made the same way I made a birthday wish. Wishes and resolutions for incredibly vague, general wants and desires. To get straight As, to fall in love, to meet the perfect guy, etc. 

In a book I’m currently reading, one of the characters talks about how she imagined wanting someone else’s life instead of doing the work of imagining her own life. When I read that sentence, I felt my brain buzz, my heart quicken its beating, and my gut resolutely look over, raise its proverbial sunglasses, and nod once. Yep. This was a quote I needed to write down everywhere there is a surface in my apartment. 

What made my plan to wean myself off Xanax successful was the timeline my doctor set to reduce the dosage and my own determination to beat the odds and reduce it even further. I had not known it was a thing I’d be doing at this age because if I looked at the lives of the people I envy (and there are many) it does not exist there (probably not!). But it did exist in my own life and because it did, I needed to make the changes accordingly.

As we head into 2024, I do have a resolution for the coming year. It is something I started the day after Christmas this year — and hopefully, I get the chance to proudly talk about it by the end of next year. Everything is laid out in a series of steps so I feel confident it’s a goal I can reach. That makes me excited!

I have a lot of gratitude for this year. I experienced massive professional and personal growth, ended a habit which was difficult to let go of, and feel like, as always, the best is still yet to come.

[mangodestroyer]

Unfortunately, I've known a handful of toxic people in my lifetime (toxic family leading to toxic dynamics in adult relationships because that behavior was familiar). I'm thinking about why some of these people gave me a weird feeling when I first met them.

I'm trying to get out more, so that the only time I'm out in public isn't just because I'm getting necessities and going to work. I've come to realize that even if I can pick up on a lot of stuff from text, I have grossly underestimated my ability to read body language. So I want to keep it in mind if I end up meeting someone new irl.

I was in a long distance relationship, and while things never sat right through text and video (they hardly ever wanted to video call me, which is a definite redflag for a partner), meeting them in person was a very different experience. I was excited when I got off the plane, only for them to get impatient with me on the phone and act very uninterested when I came up to their car. Seeing their demeanor just absolutely killed my mood. Again, I thought I was being weird for feeling... disappointed? I thought maybe I was nervous? But looking back, the complete lack of enthusiasm was just very strange. Especially considering how, when my friend met her long distance bf, they were so very clearly happy to see each other and cried when they parted ways. That's one thing that made me realize that whatever I had going on wasn't a loving relationship.

And ofc, I blamed myself for not doing enough to make my partner feel loved, because she just seemed really annoyed with me during the whole trip, constantly nitpicking on things like me wasting too much food, being too picky, telling me my hips would look better if I worked out rather than ate. And all these nitpicks were said in the most robotic, matter-of-fact tone, while other times she'd kind of just glare at me for doing something I didn't think would bother her. She also accused me of not caring about her. Not spending enough time around her. Maybe I am a little guilty of the second one, I just remember not feeling very good on that trip at all. I remembered feeling uncomfortable, anxious, and was dissociating pretty hard. I remember not even wanting to be in the same room as her dad because he really, REALLY set off alarms for me, but he was ALWAYS AROUND. At one point, half my body went numb and I just felt like I needed to sit down and get away from everyone. My ex found that very annoying. I didn't realize it at the time, but I was having a panic attack. Also, our time together didn't really feel like it was about us. She spent lots of time doing her own thing and talking to other people while I just sat there like a decoration, ig.

I know this example was long, but I think it shows a lot of the warning behaviors, as well as my own body's reactions to being in that environment and around those people. And again, over text, she could at least pretend to sound more enthusiastic, even though she was still negging and whatnot. But at the same time, all she ever wanted to do was rp her interest, which I shared at the time. And she liked to future fake and tell me to just move in with her already. It became a HUGE problem when I lost interest in the fandom we were in. That's when she really let out her true colors.

And why did I not see the issues with this relationship?

Some other behaviors I've noticed, in different people, are smirking, mean laughter, gazing into your soul, ignoring you, somehow misunderstanding a lot of things you say in the worst way possible (ex did this too tho), constant arguing, and the creepy fake kindness.

Idk if anyone else has noticed the smirk. But you know when a predatory individual thinks they won an argument against you, sees you fall for a lie, and listens to you expose a vulnerable part of yourself, they kind of just get this weird, evil smirk, like they got you? Sometimes, their eyes widen and they start staring at you like your prey. They may even compare you to prey (my roommate used to tell me I was like a mouse, which... I don't see it). It sounds so ridiculous. Like something that would only come out of fiction. But I swear, this is how my roommate used to look at me. It feels almost supernatural with how uncanny it is.

In fact, the smirk has to be the creepiest one imo. Most humans I've interacted with... just don't have that look on their face. I see it a little bit in some customers, but not quite like how my roommate does it. My brother is a good competitor.

And again, I would have thought this shit only happened in books or movies. You know those overly mean characters? Always smirking and giving the protag weird looks? Ig there are people like that irl. I didn't believe it until I saw relatives start doing it, and same with that roommate and some customers.

If I ever meet another potential friend or partner, I plan on journaling how I feel about them. Observe how they change, if they do. Reflect on how they make me feel. I'll try all the harder to listen to my gut. I'll keep things not-very-deep at first and take it slow.

[platominum]

11.10.22

Today has been my worst day in a while. I slept completely through my alarm, which always sets my day off in the wrong direction. I had hardly anytime to get ready, meaning I felt awful. At the bus stop two buses drove past me and I was going to be late. I think this was my breaking point. I rang my mum on instinct, and the moment she answered I just broke down. I had a panic attack, the first in quite a long time. I had no one there to help me.

I went back home and skipped college, the thought of it was too much to handle. It made me feel weak and angry. My anxiety was raging and my brain felt like it was covered in a thick fog. In that moment it was almost muscle memory to reach for whatever alcohol was in reach. So I did, I drank. And I'll admit it, it helped. It always has, it makes me feel good when nothing else can.

That first drink made me almost want to give up on sobriety completely and just delve back into what made me feel so good. However, opening up my sobriety app and resetting it made me feel pathetic. Four days and I'm already drinking again.

I dont want to feel pathetic, so I'll try again. And again. And again. However long it takes, I'll keep trying.

My friends forced me out the house and into town with them, which really helped. If it wasn't for them, my life would be so much worse.

[welovelouisandbucky]

Faith

Teaser

A/n: I'm really sorry for the wait, my Tumblr was not letting me post this it got messy anyway. And I'd like to say English is not my native language and I'm sorry for the mistakes, and positive criticism would very much be appreciated:) and feel free to ask if you want to be added to the taglist

Pairing: Steven Grant x teen!reader Marc Spector x teen!reader

Summary: reader is a single teen parent who lives on her own with her kid. One night her kid went missing and then she found her with none other than our Steven

"Oh bollocks! This is not how it looks I swear!" Steven panics. Stepping away from the pissed off lady, almost like he's trying to run, which makes the situation ten times worse.

Steven has faced many things in life, every worst case scenario possible, you imagine. Whether it was accidentally knocking down the new packages at work that read 'FRAGILE' and almost getting fired afterwards, or when one day he was stepping down from the bus, half awake and half asleep. He tripped over his feet and fell face first and took an old lady with him; he was fine but the lady was hospitalized for weeks. Or one time he was walking around a park, again, half awake he accidentally stepped onto a stray dog's tail. That day he ran like that cameraman for like half an hour and not because the dog stopped chasing him no, no because Marc decided to have little mercy on him by taking control. Even more, but none of them were this bad, where he was being accused of kidnapping a child. 

And the kid approached him first!

He was just back from his soul drowning day at 'work'. Today was a hell of a day. And he wanted nothing more than to just get to his home and feed Gus the second, and plop himself on the bed and drift away to sleep. 

But at the main door as he was finding his keys, he felt a little tug on his pants, looking down he saw a girl no older than three or four, smiling up at him. He instantly tensed up, looking around the lobby trying to figure out who's kid is this, and why did they let the toddler freely roam all over the lobby. Concerned, he scrunched down to her level and began asking her questions softly: where's your mum? What's your name, little love? What are you doing here all by yourself at this time, huh? Do you live here? 

The girl answered some of them by nodding her head, and quietly said her name,"Faith," and pointed to the door behind Steven. 

He picked her up and was ready to return her safely to her mum, but then a girl barged through the door. In alarmed mode Steven took a step back, second mistake. Don't ever step back if you are returning a child to their guardian, it will make the situation worse. And that's what Steven didn't know, so here he is panicking. 

Suddenly Marc decided to speak up.

Put the fucking kid down, you moron! You look like you're 'bout to run off with her! 

Marc shouts at Steven, clearly just as panicked as Steven. Steven looks at the kid he is holding and immediately puts her down, the probable guardian of the child takes Faith into her arms, protectively. 

…

Panic. Fear. Guilt.

Is what y/n had been feeling since Faith disappeared. 

All this happened in one minute. She had just left her in the living room to put the folded clothes in their place and when she returned, boom, Faith wasn't there. She searched the whole apartment, looking for a single sign of Faith but no, it's like she disappeared into thin air. But just to be confirmed before reaching out to police she checked the whole apartment twice but still no trace of Faith. She started crying three minutes after Faith's disappearance, so near to panic attack. She is blaming herself for it. If she hadn't left Faith all by herself she would've been in her arms watching Frozen, but putting clothes away was more important than her fucking daughter! 

She's scared to death, if something happened to Faith she'll never forgive herself for it. How can she let this happen in the first place? Million wrong things crossing her mind, what if something happened to her? What if she got hurt? Or worse, what if someone kidnapped her? Or what if she somehow gets to the road and car–no no no, this can't be real. This has to be a dream! This is the worst nightmare ever. 

She quickly picks up her phone and gets out of the apartment. If she has to take her daughter from Lucifer's lap she'll do it without missing a beat, she'll do anything for her. Two steps out the door, she sees her. Her Faith, in the arms of their weird neighbour. The guy who trashed the bathroom of the museum and got fired, and that's not it. Everyone has been saying he talks to himself a lot. And the sweet lady down the lobby said, one time in the elevator he started screaming out of sudden, and there was nothing. Everyone in the building said he's crazy, and needs the help of a psychiatrist. He always looked like hadn't slept for years with the dark circles under his eyes, and a deep frown on his face. And always clumsily walking into walls and or doors, and talking to some imaginary people. He looked like he's on drugs all the time, and the museum news says it all. He is walking a red flag, and you were his neighbor living right across from him. 

You always kept Faith out of his gaze and changed your path whenever you saw him somewhere. 

And seeing him with your daughter, terrified you. You shot over there and yelled at him. 

"What the hell are you doing with my child?!" You are fuming with anger. He looked at you panicked, taking a step back and that angered you more.

"Oh bollocks! This is not how it looks, I swear!" He said taking yet another step backwards, and let go of Faith. You quickly pull her into a protective mama bear hug. Relief washing over you. 

"Look, I know that was looking bad but I swear I wasn't trying to do what you're thinking, I swear!" He speaks up suddenly, you glare daggers into his soul. Scared, he backs up. 

[3raaaachachacha]

9:02 pm

Lee Minho x female reader / 682 words / angst / fluff

Warnings: panic attacks, mentions of fears

129. “i told you i’d come home to you.” & 130. “i’ll keep you safe.”

⊱ ──────────────────────── ⊰

It was one of the worst storms you had ever seen. It was heavily raining to the point you could barely see the apartment across the street. You were beginning to panic as shops began to loose power for the strong winds. You were still waiting for your boyfriend to return home, even though he was two hours late. Now the storm was in full force, if he had left work on time, he would have made it safely home.

“Where are you? You need to get home Min,” You exclaimed as your breathing increased due to your anxiety.

Minho sighed on the other end of the call, “Just wait a bit longer babe, I’ll come home to you soon!”

You began to cry as the lights went out, “Min, please come home!” But before he could answer, the light was cut. The electricity on the entire block had gone out as you noticed a telephone pole in the street, “God, this is fucking insane. It had to be the one night he needed to stay late for work,” You cried out of annoyance.

You did everything Minho had always told you to do in the case of a bad storm. Block the windows, light candles for warmth and light, stay in your room, and avoid windows. The one thing you couldn’t do was hold him for safety since he wasn’t home. You tried to calm your breathing as you heard a crash before a car alarm went off. You covered your head as you moved yourself with a blanket to the bathroom where no windows were present. You knew Minho would be safer staying at the company building at this point. They had a storm shelter in the basement, and the last thing you wanted was someone to get hurt.

“Y/N! Y/N,” Minho panted as he slammed the door shut, “Where are you? Y/N?”

Your eyes widened as you heard his voice before standing up and running towards your bedroom door, “Min, get in here hurry!” You called, wanting him to stay safe as well.

He joined you sitting down beside you as he tried his best to catch his breath, “Why did you run here? You’re drenched, you could get sick Min!” You scolded with tears streaming down your face.

He grinned at your worried self, “I told you I’d come home to you, didn’t I?” He pulled you into his wet chest before placing a kiss to your head, “I’ll keep you safe.”

You grabbed a few towels on the bathroom shelf, “You need to get out of these wet clothes first. If you get sick, then no one will be safe,” You chuckled, finally smiling as you saw he scrunch his nose at you while taking his shirt off.

“I’m not that big of a baby when I’m sick, now you’re just being mean babe,” He chuckled before placing a kiss to you lips. You grabbed some extra clothes for him as the two of you stayed in the bathroom together, chatting teasing one another to pass the time. Surprisingly, you didn’t even realize the storm had lightened up to a simple rain fall instead of a tropical storm.

“You know, I was so scared when this storm hit, not because I could have been hurt, but because I was worried about not knowing if you were safe or not. I was so worried something could have happened to you, especially since you came all the way here for me,” You pouted, playing with his fingers.

Minho smiled at you before tilting your chin up to allow him to press a soft kiss to your lips, “No matter what obstacle I have to face, I will always come home to you and I will always make sure you are safe. That’s my priority, you are my priority.”

You felt tears well in your eyes, “Can we go back to teasing each other now? I think I’ve cried enough today,” You joked, making the two of you chuckle as Minho stood up and helped you up in the process.

⊱ ──────────────────────── ⊰

- Admin 🦋

[i-cant-sing]

Hey I have a yandere erasermic obsession. I don’t know if you do angst but what if they were punishing reader and she gets really exhausted and passes out. They think they killed her, I know this is dumb and you don’t have to do it if it makes you uncomfortable-🍓 anon

Yandere Erasermic punishing reader

I've missed these two a lot😭

Anyways, enjoy! Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

Yandere Erasermic:

"Hey! I'm home! How are my darlings- Shou? You okay?" Hizashi asked as he entered his home. He was looking forward to spending time with you and the hero, but judging by the pissed off look on Aizawa's face, it didn't seem like happening.

Aizawa was taking deep breaths, his eyebrows furrowed and face contorted into a scowl. God, what did you do now? Hizashi couldn't help but wonder that, as he slid onto the couch next to his husband.

"What did she do now?"Hizashi asked, resting his head on Aizawa's chest as his arms wrapped around him.

Aizawa closed his eyes in annoyance, his own arms engulfing Hizashi as he let out a huff. "She's so ungrateful."

Hizashi lightly chuckled at that, waiting for him to continue. "You know what she did today? She tried to escape. Again. I don't know how she got the code to unlock the main door, but she opened it. She barely made it 2 steps out the door before I pulled her back in. I was taking a shower and she thought she could make a run for it. " Aizawa runs a hand through his hair, but Hizashi suddenly caught it. He looked at his husband's hand, it was turning a nasty shade of purple, and was red around the knuckles, slightly swelled. "Shou, babe... what happened to your hand?"

Aizawa exhales deeply, closing his eyes, trying to control his anger. "Our sweet little darling happened. After I got her back in, I told her to apologise. You know what she did? She spit at me, screamed all kinds of profanities. When I took her down to the basement to chain her up, she tried attacking me." Aizawa clenched his jaw. "I was only going to leave her there for the night. But what she said to me next... Hizashi, I lost it. I punched her." Hizashi's eyes widened. He knew Aizawa wasn't one to lose his temper easily, he knew he wasn't one to resort to violence immediately. So the blonde could only wonder what in the hell did you say to him. "Shouta... what did she say?" He asked softly, almost afraid of the answer himself.

Shouta looked at his husband, trying to calm himself when he told him what you barked out. "She said...she said that she wondered how UA let... let creeps like us around kids." Hizashi's eyes widened. If there's one thing he knew about Aizawa, it was how deeply he cared about his students, treating them like his own children. He prided himself in being their teacher, and so the nerve of you to even say something so disgusting like that, Aizawa was bound to snap.

"I cant believe she'd say something...so horrible. I'm so sorry, Shou." Hizashi whispered, nuzzling Aizawa's neck. The pro hero only grunted. "Whatever. I think it'd be good if she stays down there... for 2 weeks. Yeah that'd be good. And no dinner tonight either. I don't want to put up with anymore of her bullshit." Hizashi only nodded, but then caught another look at his hand and he stood up, pulling Aizawa along with him to the kitchen. Hizashi pulled out a bag of frozen peas and started applying it on his bruise hand to reduce the swelling.

As the two ate dinner, Hizashi couldn't help but worry that if Shouta's hand looked like this from the punch, then what did the receiving end look like. He chose to remain quiet on that matter, not wanting you to ruin the night anymore.

The next morning when Aizawa woke up, he went downstairs to the kitchen to find his husband. Hizashi who was almost done plating up, greeted Aizawa with a kiss. "So, should I take this plate down to our baby bird?" Hizashi asked, already knowing Aizawa didn't want to see you yet. You had really hurt him. Shouta nodded as he took a sip of his coffee. "Be right back." Hizashi pressed a kiss to his lips before going to the basement.

Hizashi opened the door to the basement, walking down the stairs, hoping to see you greet him like the angel they know you are deep down. But when he got down there, he saw you were still asleep on the floor, your limbs still bound to the chains. Your face was turned away from him and Hizashi wasnt sure if he wanted to see the damage that was done to your face.

Hizashi just called for you. “Love, I’ve brought breakfast! Eggs and hashbrowns! Your favourite!” When you didnt respond, he just sighed before placing the plate on the floor. Your chains were long enough to for you to reach it, and while Hizashi wished nothing more than to feed you himself, he knew you needed to be punished.

As he went up the stairs and out of the basement, he couldnt help but feel a sense of dread creeping up on him.

“Do you think she’ll be sorry after her punishment?”Hizashi asked his partner.  Aizawa rolled his eyes. “Unlikely. But she’ll learn to think twice before she says stupid shit like that.” Hizashi chuckled, but secretly hoped that would be the case. He got up from the couch where he and Aizawa sat. “I’ll go get her plate.” They were done eating 2 hours ago, but still waited for you to finish up because they know how stubborn you are.

When Hizashi walked down the stairs, he wasn’t surprised to find your plate untouched. You would always do that the first few days, before finally succumbing to your hunger. Pointless, really. But what disturbed him was how you were still in the same position he had seen you in 2 hours ago. And it was coming to him how still you looked, he couldn't see your body moving a single muscle, he couldn't see if you were breathing. 

Hizashi walked towards you cautiously, waiting for you to jump up and scare the crap out of him. But his breath hitched when he finally saw what had happened to you. 

A big bruise had formed on your cheek, swelling and taking all the shades of the purple, blue and green. But the worst part was seeing the blood and a clear liquid dripping out of your nose slowly, forming a pool around your head.

He turned you on to your back and started shaking your shoulder. “Darling? Wake up, baby. Its me. Baby, wake up.” But your body remained unconscious. He started tapping your cheek, only then noticing you weren’t breathing. All the alarms went off in his head. “SHOUTA! COME DOWN OVER HERE!” 

Shouta rushed to the basement, wondering what stunt you pulled now. But seeing your limp body in Hizashi’s arms, blood coating your cheeks, he knew something terrible had occured. Aizawa ran towards his partners, looking at your bruising cheek. “She’s n-not breathing. She’s not fucking breathing, Shou!” Hizashi sobbed as Aizawa took your wrist in his hand. His blood ran cold when he found no pulse. “What are we gonna do?! She’s dead! Our baby is dead!” Shouta blocked out Hizashi’s voice. They both cant be panicking right now. Aizawa turned to his partner. “Hizashi. Bring her up. I’ll get the car out.” He commanded. “H-hospital? Shou, its too late-” Hizashi cried out but Aizawa gave him a stern look. “Bring her up. Now.” 

They got to the hospital in fairly record time, passing you over to the doctors while Aizawa made up a story of how they found you in an alley. Only after the doctors left them alone did it dawn on Aizawa how serious the situation was. He killed you, didnt he? You would still be alive if he hadnt hit you. How could he ever claim to love you when he hurts you-

Aizawa shook his head, he could wallow up in his guilt later. For now, he needed to comfort his husband and pray that you make it through somehow.

A few hours later, the doctors had given them an update on your condition. You made it, barely. Something had hit your face and damaged some part of your brain, causing there to be a very slow heart beat. But you're all okay now, since they brought you in time.

When they were allowed to finally go in, thats when Aizawa finally broke down. Seeing you unconscious, knowing he almost killed you, it got to him. Hizashi wanted to console Aizawa, but he couldn't bring himself to leave your side. Hizashi pressed soft kisses to your temples, wiping his tears that fell on your cheek, while Aizawa stood to your side. He wanted to hold your hand but he was afraid to hurt you again. As the duo sat by your side, they made a silent promise to never hurt you again, at least not physically.

After that incident, you'll never be left alone. The two are always breathing down your neck, drowning you in love, looking at you with even more fondness; obsession and protectiveness swirling in their eyes, right there with guilt.

Aizawa would never apologise, but that doesn't mean he's not sorry. You would often wake up to him looking at your bruised cheek with worry, caressing it so gently, as if he'd break you. He'll be a lot more demanding with physical affection, always wrapping his arms around you, forcing you onto his lap and tucking your face under his chin as he cards his fingers through your hair.

You didn't think Hizashi could be anymore overbearing, but you were proved wrong. He'd panic if you were out of his sight for more than 5 minutes. Always worrying, paranoia creeping up on him when you're not in the same room as him. And when he would finally find you (mostly in the bathroom), he'd check you all over for injuries, not trusting your assurances.

Punishments aren't violent anymore. They're humiliating. Pulling you in their laps and feeding you by hand, talking about you as if you're not there, making you take baths with them(not showers because they end too quickly), making you sleep with them, naked.

And the couple won't lie, but this form of punishment seems to be far more effective. With how quickly you turn docile, folding in on yourself as if you could hide from them... its cute.

But hey, its better than getting beat, right?

[midnight-on-pluto]

Could I get some parental Aizawa with a reader who has anxiety please? (And maybe undiagnosed adhd?) thanks!!

Parent!Aizawa with anxiety / ADHD reader

A/N: I have ADHD so i got this IN THE BAG you know how many times i’ve thought about parent Aizawa it’s so cute!! ahhh i love you 💕

Warning: swearing

╰➤ Aizawa is so parenting to his students so you know he’d 100% be the best dad

╰➤ He falls asleep everywhere and you know he falls into a DEEP SLEEP there’s definitely been times when you thought he was dead

╰➤ Once had a panic attack when he was asleep because you were like “oh my god my father is dead and now i’m an orphan” and he just like woke up in the middle of it. You literally slapped him, such an ass. He apologized about it too but you were like “WHY DID YOU SLEEP ON THE TRAIN AND THEN JUST NOT BREATHE”

╰➤ He’s so sweet about your anxiety too, he’s definitely done research and he was the one who originally brought you to get diagnosed when you were younger because you know he’s educated on mental illness

╰➤ Makes sure you take your meds if you have some, your ADHD brain will forget sometimes and completely ignore your alarm(s).

╰➤ Somedays you’re stubborn and he just goes “take your pills,” and you’re just like “no,” he’s tired of this shit please he just wants sleep

╰➤ Will FORCE it down your throat and then nap because HOLY SHIT you are strong please just take the pills bb

╰➤ He’s so patient with you! If you’re struggling with any homework and can’t focus he’ll sit with you to help and calm you down. He isn’t fussy with grades so if you’re not doing too well he won’t scold you, but he’ll help you if you’re failing so you at least pass

╰➤ If you’re having a super bad day with anxiety, he’ll sit with you and make sure you’re okay. If you want alone time he will just sit up, shuffle to his bedroom, and sleep until you come to wake him up

╰➤ Speaking of waking him up if you’re having an anxiety attack and need him, or you’re feeling overstimulated and need him, he doesn’t care if you come over and wake him at any time. He can easily fall asleep after anyways and he’d much rather make sure you’re okay

╰➤ Due to anxiety you may get anxious when he goes away on hero work. Aizawa is very cautious when he’s working, in fact your one of the main reasons he took a teaching position. He gets less hero work and more teaching work, so he can spend time with you and it takes some of the stress off

╰➤ When he does have to go for work, he makes sure to give you constant check ups, messaging you every hour and every second he gets just so you aren’t anxious. He doesn’t think it’s a bother, and it’s not annoying to him so you don’t need to worry about bugging him.

╰➤ When you were younger he made Present Mic look after you while he went on missions. He always called at night before bed and required Present Mic to be giving him constant text updates

╰➤ Now that you’re older he just makes Mic check in on you, but trusts you to be home alone majority of the time

╰➤ As for ADHD, if you’re feeling overstimulated (holy fuck this is the worst) he stays right next to you. Mental breakdowns are common with both your anxiety and ADHD so as much as it hurts, Aizawa has really gotten used to seeing you with tears streaming down your face

╰➤ There’s nothing he can really do with overstim, you just gotta wait it out or distract yourself, but he tries his hardest

╰➤ If you lash out at him he doesn’t mind, but makes sure you know to apologize when you’re feeling better. He understands that you’re feeling overwhelmed and need some space, so he’s willing to give you just that

╰➤ Aizawa is such a good dad and would do anything to make you happy. He’d be the first to take you to a doctor for diagnosis and he’s always supportive. Please, if any of you have kids be an Aizawa.

[christinebloodwrittings]

Story request please: How would a giant Loki comfort a 20 ish female borrower y/n who doesn't like being out in the open and open spaces, as it makes her feel exposed and vulnerable, and in general makes her anxious and scared. She feels safer being in an enclosed space like Loki's hands or pocket or even just curled under a blanket.

You ask I write! Thank you so much for your request!

I hope you like it!

Pairing: Jötun Loki x Fem!Reader

Words: 1337

Summary: Getting over traumas is not easy, unless you have a very mischievous boyfriend.

Warnings: Agoraphobia and social anxiety.

Loki Taglist: @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @high-functioning-lokipath @thereadinggeek @lucky-foxface

INSIDE

Four walls, it has always been like this. So calm and serene in a confined space closed to changes or disturbances. Simple mental silence within the comfort of home.

The ceiling was opening, the dried drops of paint seemed to dance between them, they shone at some point. By closing your eyes you could continue to see the small points of light approaching and rotating around you.

Everything was so peaceful, until the alarm went off to remind you to buy groceries for the month.

“NoooOOOO” your muffled cry of anger reached your boyfriend’s ears, “Groceries?” he peeked at you from the counter in the kitchen, “Yeah” you were sitting but as soon as the dread took over you, you laid flat against the cushions.

“I don’t wanna go!” he chuckled as he heard you whining, “Come on, we have the list ready, and afterwards we can organize it and eat some snacks” truth to be told he had you at ’We have the list ready’, you would literally scream if you had to search all over your house trying to write down everything you need.

He scooped you up from the couch, although you struggled and groaned, tried to grab the couch but you ended up pulling blanket you had on. “I don’t want to go outside Loki, please!” you squirmed in his palm, hugging the fluffy blanket close.

“You know the agreement, my love, at least six months out to get groceries, the other six we order them online” pouting you shifted and managed to roll yourself in the blanket, “No can do, I’m a caterpillar” he risen his hand to kiss you, “Caterpillars live outside, love” and that’s the comment that made you rise your middle finger at him.

“Y/n, we always have this conversation, and you always end up going” his tone started to sound serious, so you tapped his hand and he let you down, once you were on your feet you started walking out of the living room, “Where are you going sweetheart?” you dropped the blanket, revealing your Stitch pajamas, “Can’t go outside in this, also I’m getting my pills so you don’t have to deal with another panic attack”.

You sounded so sick of it, you always had to be high to handle excess stimulation. It hurt him to have to watch you swallow pills and carry a sedative every time you went out, the worst thing is that only he and your friends knew about it, all because your parents caused that trauma in you.

Loki was furious after learning the identity of your abusers, every family dinner you fought against the urge to cry, and he the one to destroy the place and hang your parents’ heads outside the house so that no one messes with you in the future.

He stopped when you started wearing clothes of his color to distract him from his barbaric instincts.

“Maybe you don’t have to, how about you ride in my coat? It’s cold outside, the fur will keep you warm and close to me” you immediately lighten up and ran to get his big coat, luckily it was folded so you wouldn’t use it as a big cape.

“Good girl, upper pocket you go” he straighten the coat and slip you inside his chest pocket, along with your blanket so you could hug something. He also gave you your pills and a glass of water before going out.

He sewed that pocket, for two simple reasons: He wanted you within reach of his eye and he wanted you to enjoy the view. With him constantly talking to you, how warm you were, and the effects of the pills, you were not paying attention to the voices, nor the looks of the people, nor the horrible comments.

It was just you and him. Outside.

However, your body had already been rejecting the medicine that had been prescribed for several days, but since you had not come out, you did not feel when the effect was no longer helping you.

Arriving at the supermarket, you stuck your head over the edge of the pocket, the building next to it was so tall you thought it was going to come over you, so you hid inside again.

Breathing became a bit difficult due to the heat caused by your change in temperature and the fleece of your coat, so you stuck your head out again.

The aisle of cookies and coffee seemed to close in the distance, the mantels increased in size and you felt that the light burned your eyes.

"Love?" your chest felt heavy, for you the image came to your head that your ribs were squeezing your lungs, but that only made you breathe more aggressively.

The image of Loki looking up was as blurry as pouring water into a watercolor, his voice echoing in your noisy head.

“Would you like peanut butter soft, chunky, or creamy?” apparently your breathing was way more intense in your head, he didn’t seem to notice. “Chunky” you covered yourself in the blanket again, he just looked at you sweetly.

And then the worst happened.

Upon reaching the checkout, Loki had forgotten an item on the list, so your very idiot boyfriend came up with leaving you waiting in line to save the spot.

It was only five minutes, but in your head it was twenty. The eyes around you multiplied, you had your blanket over you but the giggles of the children behind you made you think that they were making fun of you.

"I'm sorry love, but at least it seems that you are fine and without problems" on the verge of a complete heart failure, you stretched your arms towards him, he gladly put you back in his pocket.

"All good?" He got a little nervous because he saw you throw the bags on the kitchen table and walk around angrily.

"Fuck off," you said, finishing putting the cold foods in the refrigerator. “Ok, I understand you are upset, let it out beautiful, you’ll feel better and I can take it” you turned to see him, “I don’t like going out Loki! And you left me alone IN THE FUCKING LINE!!” at the end your voice cracked, “I hate you, they all laughed at me” and the tears rolled down your cheeks.

“The pill is not working is it?” he walked calmly towards you, kneeled and took your hands in his. “I don’t think so” he pulled you against his chest, “I’m sorry my love, I brought your favorite Cheetos, how about you watch a movie while I call your psychologist and ask for another visit?” you groaned and hugged him.

“I already did, this morning, I have it on Friday 17:30” you smiled weakly, “I love you” you gave him a groan and a kiss, he loved your pouting.

First came the anger, then the tears, and then you were a pouting and needy loving girl. He just loved feeling like you needed him, and you did most of the time, so he was in heaven.

“If you organize the groceries without me you will regret it” you warned while kissing his jaw, “Ok you need something yummy and a nap” he said planting a kiss to your forehead, “Don’t tell me what I need…I want to cuddle…please?”.

“And want to play with my hair while doing so?” you nodded, your phobias and traumas brought the little girl inside of you, and he loved it. “My little darling love!” he pulled you up in his arms and spend the rest of the day warm and close.

He actually did left you on propose, he has been doing it for a while to help you get over your fear, the reaction that day was actually quite controlled compared to the first time he left you waiting in line. You were getting better, and one day you would be able to walk outside without freaking out. Baby steps.

[maddiwrites]

Family Troubles

Pairing: JJ x Routledge!Reader, mostly John B x Routledge!Reader sibling dynamic 

Summary: (Requested) After the death of your brother, you move to the mainland with a nice foster family. Months later, you get the biggest shock of your life that leaves you questioning what you want.

Note: I’m so sorry this took so long. I hope this is what you were looking for!

Word Count: 4.6k

You peek your eyes open to another sunny autumn day as your alarm echos off the walls of your room through your phone. For the first time in a long time, you didn’t dread the day ahead of you. Because you feel like you’re finally living a life worth living. 

It’s been about three months since John B disappeared. The worst three months of your life. You never would have imagined living a life without your twin brother. It was lonely and heart wrenching. You didn’t think you would get through it. And living with the Cameron’s didn’t make your life any easier. Ward tried blocking you off from the rest of the world. He was afraid of what you could do to his reputation despite knowing most people wouldn’t believe you. You were just a Pogue with a criminal background.Your word means nothing to Kooks and cops alike. Nonetheless, Ward didn’t want to take any chances. 

It wasn’t until you finally got in touch with Cheryl, your social worker, that your life started to change for the better. You couldn’t believe the irony of running to your social worker for help when you’ve been running away from her all summer. Surprisingly, she did hear you. She listened to you. She believed you! Although there wasn’t much she could do about Ward, she could help you get out from under his neglectful guardianship. 

She placed you in a foster home with an eager Spanish American couple on the main land. Of course you weren’t ecstatic about it. Foster care was never something you wanted to be placed in. Especially without your brother. But at the time, anything was better than living with Ward Cameron. 

The worst part of the process was telling your best friends. Kie and Pope, although disappointed, were happy for you because they knew this was what was best for you. JJ, however, didn’t understand how you could be so cool calm and collected about moving. Losing you to Figure Eight was hard enough and now he was going to have open water separating you two? He didn’t cope well with the news. He barely talked to you as you gathered your stuff to leave, almost didn’t show up to say his final goodbye with Kie and Pope. But he came as you were about to get on the ferry with Cheryl. The two of you cried and told each other you were sorry. You kissed his cheek and slipped a small piece of paper with your new address into his pockets. JJ reluctantly let you go with a promise that he will visit you as soon as he could and you believed him. Because he was your best friend, your soul mate, and partner in crime.

JJ saves up every week to take the ferry to visit you. He usually comes every Sunday, respecting your foster parents’ wishes that he not stay the night. At first they were wary of him coming over - they know about your past from the social worker and the News and how JJ was a part of it. They wanted you to have a new beginning. A fresh start. They believed you when you said your brother wasn’t a murderer and that you and your friends did nothing wrong. They were just afraid that JJ would convince you to come back to the Outer Banks (which he’s tried), or make you regress to past trouble making behaviors. But you explained to Maria and Luis, your foster parents, how important JJ is to you and that he needed to be a part of you life no matter where you were living. So they allowed him weekend visits, always making sure to keep an eye on you when he was here. 

Someone lightly taps on your door until you say, “Come in.” 

Maria pokes her head in and smiles when she sees you’re awake. “Morning, honey. Your appointment is in thirty minutes. Will you be ready to leave soon?”

You offer her a smile and nod. “Yeah, I’ll be down in ten.”

Maria nods. “Okay.”

She closes the door gently, leaving you alone to get ready for your appointment with your therapist. You agreed with your new foster parents to go to therapy once a week. They thought it would help you move on and grow and get rid of the nightmares that sometimes terrorize you at night. You went because you felt like you owed it to them to make an effort. They weren’t like the other foster couples you hear horror stories about. If they were gonna be there for you, you were gonna be there for them too. 

The therapy sessions were working. You’re more open to talking about what you went through. The therapist never gave you any inclination that she was judging you or analyzing you. She just listened and asked you how you were feeling about everything. She helped you adjust to this new life on the mainland and taught you new coping strategies that didn’t involve getting into fights or arguing with the cops. She helped you through your anxiety about starting a new school and making new friends. She even prescribed you some anxiety meds that helped with your nightmares and panic attacks.

Both Maria and Luis drive you to your therapy appointment. You silently question why the both of them felt the need to accompany you to your appointment. You mentally list all the reasons as to why they both would want to come when usually it’s just one or the other. You’re too afraid to ask, thinking they’re about to drop a bomb on you and send you back to the island. You don’t want to hear it, procrastinating the inevitable for as long as possible. 

When Dr. Hildegard greets you in the waiting room, she waves not only you but your foster parents as well into her office. The three of you take a seat on the brown leather couch in front of her chair. You awkwardly glance between your therapist and your foster parents, trying to read the room. You dig your nails into the skin of your hand to keep yourself calm, focusing on the slight stinging pain it leaves you.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Dr. Hildegard says. She takes notice of your fidgeting hands and smiles. “I know you must be confused and anxious right now. But Maria and Luis have something they want to ask you and felt you would be more comfortable having this conversation with me present.”

“Okay...” You say wearily. 

Luis and Maria hold each other’s hands as they turn to look at you. You feel a little better when you see a smile on their face, making you think it isn’t going to be bad news. 

“Y/N, how would feel about officially being a part of our family?”

You glance between your therapist and your foster parents and tilt your head in confusion. “I don’t understand...”

“Y/N,” Dr. Hildegard says. “Maria and Luis would like to adopt you.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Meanwhile, back at the Outer Banks, JJ is getting ready to leave his house to make the last ferry to the mainland. He had to pick up another shift to afford another boat ride and a date for tonight, which left him racing against the clock.

Someone knocks on his front door. “Shit,” He curses and looks at the clock. 3:04. He needed to leave twenty minutes ago. He doesn’t have time to talk to anyone right now. He figures it’s his dad’s probation officer or druggie looking for money. So he ignores it so he can find his wallet. 

But the knocking persists. 

“Fuck,” JJ grunts and storms to the front door. “He’s not here -”

JJ freezes as he rips the door open. He didn’t know who he was going to find, but he definitely wasn’t expecting his dead best friend to be standing on his door step. 

John B smirks up at his shocked reaction. “Hey, stud. Miss me?”

JJ’s brain is doing flips inside his skull, knocking around with so many questions and curses and phrases and shouts. But with that is the immense excitement and relief that takes over his entire body. 

JJ jumps on him and wraps his arms around his best friend’s shoulders. Tears inevitably prick his eyes and he physically holds onto John B. He’s in utter disbelief. He never thought he would get this opportunity again. To see and hold his best friend - the best friend that’s supposed to be dead. 

“Wow. Who knew JJ Maybank could get so emotional?” John B jokes, trying to hide his own tears through his laugh. 

JJ removes himself from John B and shoves him back by the shoulders lightly. He wipes his upper lips with the back of his hand and sniffles back the rest of his tears. “Shut up, bro.” JJ narrows his eyes at the dead man in front of him and asks, “What the fuck happened? Where’s Sarah? Is she -”

"Sarah’s fine. We’re trying to lay low right now. No one knows we’re back.”

“What -”

“Look, I know you’re confused and there’s so much I need to tell you guys, but first I need to see my sister.” John B says with a sweet grin on his lips at the mention of his sister. He was most excited to see her - his first best friend and partner in crime. “Is she here?” JJ’s face falls at the mention of Y/N because he doesn’t know how John B is going to take the news that she’s no longer on the island. John B notices JJ’s hesitation and immediately get’s worried. “Where’s Y/N, JJ?”

“She’s not here.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

You trail behind Maria and Luis as they unlock the front door to their house. The car ride home was awkwardly silent. You didn’t know what to say.

“Oh...” You said. You weren’t expecting that. You thought they’d be telling you the complete opposite. Yet, you didn’t know how to feel about their proposition. 

Maria and Luis looked at Dr. Hildegard for some insight or ice breaker since you froze up on the spot. You looked back down at your hand and pressed your nails even harder into your skin, leaving half crescent moons indented in your palm. 

Dr. Hildegard kept her calm smile and said softly, “Why don’t Y/N and I speak alone and I’ll grab you guys at the end?”

Maria and Luis, although a little disappointed by your reaction, agreed and stepped out of the room.

When the two of you were alone, Dr. Hildegard asked, “How are you feeling right now, Y/N?”

“I uh...” You stammered. “I don’t know. Shocked, I guess.”

“Usually when kids in foster care are offered adoption, they’re excited. Do you like living with Maria and Luis?”

“Yeah, they’re great. It’s just...” The last time someone offered to take you in as part of their family, it didn’t end well. It changed your life for the worst, you lost your only living family member left, and is the reason why you were here today. Although foster care isn’t that much different, you didn’t expect to stay with Maria and Luis past 18 years old. 

“Rebuilding a sense of trust can be difficult after past traumas. But taking those necessary steps, of letting new people in your life, can help you over those humps.”

“Why don’t you get ready for volleyball practice? I’ll take you there when you’re ready,” Luis says as the three of you walked inside. 

You nod silently and quickly hide in your room. You fall back on your bed that suddenly feels different than it did this morning. Like a reminder that it didn’t belong to you.

But maybe it could. 

You get changed for volleyball in a pair of spandex and a t shirt. When you close the drawer, something falls on your dresser, catching your attention. 

You pick up the fallen picture frame of you, John B, and the rest of the Pogues on Memorial Day Weekend. Kie had taken a selfie with all of you making silly faces at the camera in the middle of the marsh. That day always brings back amazing memories for you. Oh how you wished you could have another day like that. 

You stare a little longer at John B in that photo. What would he say if he was with you right now? Would he say yes to Maria and Luis like he did to Ward? Or would he encourage you to be more careful about who you trust with your life?

Maria knocks on your door and says, “You ready, sweetheart?” 

You place the frame back on the dresser and walk out into the hall to meet her. “Yes.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

“So this couple....” John B says as he follows JJ off the ferry on the mainland. 

“Maria and Luis,” JJ says. On the way here, he told John B everything. About how horrendous your life was after John B “died.” How Ward treated you like a prisoner. How you practically begged Cheryl to help you. How you ended up on the mainland with a lovely married couple. 

“Are they...nice?”

JJ shrugs. “They seem like good people. You can tell they don’t like me around, but that might just be because they associate me with all the bad shit that happened to us because of Ward.”

“Does she like it here?” John B says as he takes in his new surroundings. As he and JJ walk towards your neighborhood, which isn’t too far from the ferry, he thinks about what your life could become here. Nice neighborhoods, friendly towns. It’s definitely better than the Cut. But it wasn’t home. 

“She’s learning to, I think,” JJ answers honestly. “She doesn’t like being so far away from the Pogues.”

“Yeah, I can understand the feeling,” John B says. Although it was nice to have Sarah around while they were gone, he couldn’t help but feel like a giant chunk of his heart was missing. And that was the Pogues. 

“This is it,” JJ says as they reach the end of a short driveway on the outskirts of town. A two story baby blue home with white shutters and a rose bush. Bigger than the houses on the Cut and smaller than the houses on Figure Eight. 

“This is where she’s been staying?” John B asks. Something swarms inside his brain. He doesn’t know if it’s betrayal or jealousy. 

“Yup,” JJ says, popping the ‘p’, “Her room is on the side.”

JJ knocks on the front door and looks down at his watch while he waits. Somehow, he managed to be about ten minutes early. Probably because of John B’s hustle to find his sister as soon as possible. 

Luis opens the door with a friendly grin that quickly falters when he sees who accompanies JJ. 

“Good Afternoon, Mr. Morales. Is Y/N, here?”

Luis looks between the boys and inhales a deep breath. He knows John B from the pictures on the News, the stories in the paper, and the cries of his name when Y/N was terrorized with nightmares in the beginning of her stay. 

Although the adoption process just started, he and his wife felt like they were finally forming a family-like bond with Y/N. Dr. Hildegard suggested starting over would be in Y/N’s best interest, encouraging new friendships, joining extracurricular activities at school, staying away from the Outer Banks for a while. Luis and Maria made an exception for JJ, seeing how happy he truly made Y/N. But they never expected to see John B. 

And he didn’t know what that meant for his family. 

John B notices Luis’s hesitation and politely holds out his hand. “I’m John Booker Routledge. Y/N’s brother.” 

Luis reluctantly shakes his hand, although apprehensive, never rude. He coughs awkwardly and looks back at JJ without saying a word to John B. “Tonight’s not a good night -”

“What do you mean? Sunday’s our day. She didn’t tell me she was busy -”

“I’m sorry, son. Maybe next week.” Luis shuts the door before JJ or John B could argue. 

John B knocks again and even rings the doorbell. “Mr. Morales! Hey! Come back!”

“Here,” JJ pulls John B by his arm. “Come here.”

JJ and John B round to the side of the house where your window sits right under the middle point of the roof. JJ find’s the nearest and smallest rock and tosses it up at the glass of your window. 

“What are you? Fucking, Romeo?” John B glares at his friend.

“You have a better idea?” JJ glares right back. “Trust me. I wouldn’t put it past Mr. Morales to call the cops if we kept banging on his door. They’re pretty protective of Y/N, which means they’ve never been truly fond of me.”

“Maybe she’s not here,” John B suggests. 

“She’s always -”

JJ freezes when he hears a car pull into the driveway. They both look at each other before walking back to the front of the house. JJ notices Maria first when she steps out of the car. She has a smilier reaction to John B as her husband which makes John B bounce on his toes nervously. 

You don’t see him at first, with your back turned to grab your bag. Then you spot him immediately. 

You stiffen when you see both JJ and....your dead brother standing on the lawn.  Suddenly your mouth feels dry and your heart is beating the crap out of your ribs. 

“Y/N...” Maria says wearily. 

“Hey, Dimples,” John B says with a smile, using the nickname he and your father use to call you when you were younger due to the deep pits in your cheeks when you smiled. 

Your eyes shift to JJ who looks at you with pinched eye brows. He was expecting a different reaction. One where you run into your brother’s arms and squeeze the shit out of him in a tight hug. 

But instead, you were feeling numb. You never expected to be face to face with your brother ever again. You convinced yourself he was really dead because holding onto hope that he was still alive was slowly killing you and even holding you back. You needed closure and that closure was accepting the truth that John B was dead and to never be found.

Yet, here he is. Standing and breathing and watching your reaction with a hurt expression. 

“Y/N...” Maria says again and lightly touches your shoulder. 

“I’m fine,” You finally speak, flinching at the way your throat feels scratchy. You swallow and turn to Maria and offer a polite grin. “I’ll be right in.”

“I don’t know...”

“Please, Maria,” You say, this time a tad more forceful but not rude. 

Maria hesitantly nods and blocks herself away with the front door. 

“I - I don’t - “ You huff. “How?”

“The Phantom...” John B licks his lips nervously. “Capsized...and Sarah and I...well...a shipment boat found us. Took us right to the Bahamas.”

“The Bahamas?” You repeat, taking two steps closer to him. 

“Yes. There’s so much I have to tell you -”

“Like the part where you couldn’t call?” You say accusingly. 

John B sighs. He should have expected it, but he didn’t prepare for it. He thought you’d be happy to see him, but now he’s realizing how hurt and confused he’s truly left you.

“It’s a long story -”

“Yeah, I’d expect the summary of your last few months to be a long one.” You look at JJ. “Did you know about this?”

JJ shakes his head. “He showed up on my way here.”

John B sighs. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t find a way to contact you, but we couldn’t! We didn’t want the cops realizing we were alive and we were looking for the gold -”

“The gold?” You laugh humorlessly and your hands run up your head to your scalp. Your fingers tug on the roots of your hair in frustration. “The gold’s gone!”

“It’s not! If you would just listen -”

“I don’t want to listen, John B! Because I don’t care about the gold. That gold took everything from me!” You yell as tears begin to build in your eyes, thinking back to what happened last summer. “I lost Dad, you, my home... I can only see my boyfriend once a week. And I was treated like a prisoner in the house of a murderer!”

“I know that it couldn’t have been easy for you but -”

“No. You have no idea what it was like for me when you were gone. Because you weren’t there!” You cry. “You left! You were living it up in the Bahamas, searching for gold, while the rest of us cried over your death and suffered the consequences!” Tears were now silently streaming down both John B’s cheeks and JJ’s as they watched you break down. “I couldn't sleep for weeks. I barely ate. Ward locked me in a room so I couldn’t tell anyone about what he did.”

“I’m sorry,” John B says. “I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you. Back home -”

“Home?” You scoff, shaking your head. “I have a home.”

“This isn’t your home,” John B says defensively. 

“It has been. For the past few months. But you wouldn’t know that, would you?” You say with a glare. You look at the house behind him, noticing Maria and Luis snooping through the curtains of the window. You think back on what happened today and the options you had. At first it was a hard decision to make and now it’s damn right near impossible. “Maria and Luis offered to adopt me.” You say honestly.

John B inhales sharply and JJ furrows his brows. 

“What?” John B says.

“I didn’t give them an answer yet. But this is an opportunity to start over.”

John B glares at you. “Think about your family!”

“I am!” 

You suddenly feel exhausted and weak, like the day has lasted over twenty four hours. Your head begins to throb and your neck aches. 

You sigh, “Look, I’m happy you’re all right and safe and unharmed, from the looks of it. But...I just need some time. Okay?”

“Y/N...”

“Please, John B?” You’re practically begging. 

John B sighs and reluctantly nods his head at your request. At the end of the day, you owe him nothing and he owes you everything.

“Okay,” He agrees. 

You walk past him without giving him a hug or anything, afraid you’ll break down in sobs and follow his lead back to the Outer Banks. But you need to be strong and figure out what it is you need in life, tired of following the path that always leaves you broken and alone. 

You kiss JJ’s cheek as you walk by him. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” 

JJ squeezes your hand before you disappear into your house. When the door shuts behind you, you slid down it onto the floor, finally letting your sobs wrack through your body. Maria and Luis run to comfort you to the best of their ability, but they don’t know how to truly help you. 

Later that night, over a cup of tea, you tell Maria and Luis everything. From start to finish. How your dad was obsessed with finding the Royal Merchant, to the compass, to Ward taking you in, finding out he murdered your father and covered up Sheriff Peterkin’s murder by using your own brother. 

Maria and Luis glance at each other nervously. They know how important family is, which is why they want you a part of theirs so badly. But they never want to take you away from one you already have and love. 

“I think you should think long and hard about what you want over the next couple of days,” Luis says. “And we’ll help you in any way we can.”

“I’m sorry,” You say, wiping away your tears with a napkin. “I know you didn’t sign up for this.”

“Honey,” Maria says, wiping another tear with her thumb. “We don’t want you to worry about that. This changes nothing for us, okay?”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

The next day at dinner, Maria and Luis sit you down and offer eager grins. Just like they did at your last therapy appointment. 

“Y/N...we have something we’d like to discuss with you,” Luis says.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

With the help of JJ, you meet John B at the Wreck with the others for a civilized conversation. Now that you’ve had a few days to think and calm down, you’re able to really appreciate how lucky you are to have John B back in your life. 

When you see him standing in the middle of the restaurant, you run to him and squeeze him around his waist as he wraps his arms around your shoulders. You cry into his T shirt, telling him how sorry you are for your outburst. 

“It’s okay,” John B cries into your hair. “You don’t have to be sorry. I should be the one apologizing.” 

You pull away and wipe away your tears. “I think we’ve both been through hell and back and did what he had to do to survive. Neither of us should apologize.”

After giving the other Pogues a hug, the five of you sit down and recap each other’s last three months. John B tells you about his time in the Bahamas, how Sarah is laying low until she gets her shit figured out with her own family, and you describe life at a new town and a new school.

“It’s weird. There’s no division. No Kooks vs. Pogues. I don’t know if I like it or miss my enemies,” You say.

When the five of you are ready to say your goodbyes, you pull John b aside and say, “Actually, I think there’s a couple of people I’d like you to meet.” John B furrows his brows and follows you to a park where Maria and Luis are waiting at a picnic table.

When they see the two of you approaching, they stand and reach out to shake John B’s hand, officially introducing themselves and apologizing for being rude a week ago. 

“It’s okay. I understand,” John B says. “Thank you for taking care of my sister.”

“Pleasure’s all ours,” Luis smiles. “We’re lucky to be able to meet you.”

“Y/N’s told us such great things,” Maria adds. 

You roll your eyes playfully and look at John B to read his face. He seems to be enjoying himself. 

“That’s a first,” He even jokes and looks your way.

“There’s actually something we wanted to ask you,” Luis says and takes his wife’s hand like he did at Dr. Hildegard’s. He looks at you to see if you want to explain. “Y/N...”

You take a deep breath and face your brother. “I have agreed to be adopted by Maria and Luis.”

“But -” 

“Let me finish,” You cut John B off. “We talked about it and the three of us are going to move back to the Outer Banks to be closer to you and the Pogues.”

“But...” Maria says like a song with an excited grin.

You mirror her smile and say, “But...Maria and Luis want to know if you would like to a be a part of their family too?”

John B’s brows jump up in surprise. “Seriously?”

“I know it’s a big decision,” Luis says.

“And if you need time, that’s fine,” You say. “But, I think this will be good for the both of us.”

John B looks between you and your foster parents, who he can tell care about you greatly. Of course he wants that too, but just like you were, he’s nervous.

“Are you sure about this?” He says softly as to not offend the couple in front of him.

“Yes,” You nod. “I’m sure.”

John B inhales a deep breath and nods. “Okay. I’m in.”

[trueshellz]

Seeing your abusive ex: Bokuto Scenario

Based on something that happened to me today and ended with me having to call my auntie to calm me down while I cried hysterically in my car. This is based in my own symptoms but is not an extensive or absolute list. This cute boi is my comfort character from Haikyuu. If anyone ever needs to talk about stuff like this, I will happily listen. You are loved. You are amazing!

Warning: possible abuse triggers, some angst, anxiety, panic attacks, PTSD type symptoms, harassment, past abuse hinted.

You were sure the car behind you was one you had seen before, as it popped up four times on your walk home you started feeling anxious. The first time has been when you left work, it was parked across the road with lights turned off as you left the building. The second and third time were when you went and left the supermarket to get dinner ingredients that you had forgotten yesterday. This time however, you were sure it was following you as you walked home. And if you were right it belonged to your abusive ex-boyfriend, one that you hadn’t seen in over two years since you threw him out after you gathered the strength to do so.

You knew not to walk too fast or too slow, you were holding a deodorant can in your pocket and had your safety alarm in your other hand with your keys. Your main issue was getting home safe. If you went home, he would follow you and know where you live. If you went to a friend’s house, she could be in danger and you didn’t want anyone to experience what you had. At the same time, it was getting a little dark and being out after sunset was just as bad. You could feel the memories of the abuse flash through your mind like a film reel, the familiar feeling of terror as you re-lived what happened. Your breath was catching in your throat as you walked, not from exertion but from sheer panic. You tried the breathing techniques your therapist had given you, tried thinking about you lovely boyfriend and the happy memories you had made together, but nothing stopped the darkness clouding your brain.

On impulse, you dialled Koutaro’s number, knowing he was at practice there was a small chance he would pick up and if he didn’t, your best friend was next. Glancing behind you again, you stayed on busy main roads as you walked, willed and prayed to God that he picked up his phone. Weaving through people hoping that he would lose sight of you and give up, at least long enough for you to get home safely.

“Hey gorgeous, I was just going to message you. I-“

“Kou... Kou... I...l...”

Your voice broke off in sobs as you spoke, the world around you seeming too small and the noises too loud as you walked. You had a small idea where you were, relying on muscle memory walking around the city but right now, all you cared about was the car that kept coming in and out your vision.

“Baby, whats’s wrong? Where are you?”

“I...”

Bokuto could hear your voice catch as you spoke, the sound hitting him right in the chest and making his heart hurt, he hated being on the other side of the city as he practiced for his upcoming match. It wasn’t often that he heard you like this, the nightmares had decreased and apart from the one time you opened up about a past relationship, you had never been this fearful.

“Baby, listen. It’s me, its Kou. Focus on my voice ok? Forget everything else. I love you. Tell me where you are.”

“I don’t know, Kou.” A pause as he heard you take a deep breath. “I’m scared.”

“I know, baby. Tell me what you see ok? You know this city way better than I do. Remember when I got lost on the way to your house? How late was I to our first date? I’m so lucky you agreed to a second one. You know this city like the back of your hand.”

You focused on the sound of his voice, the usual soothing melody as he spoke to you. The same voice that lulled you to sleep when you had a bad dream and screamed with happiness when you played games together. The one that groaned in your ear when he was too tired to moved or whispered how good it felt being inside you. Your bubbly, cute baby owl boyfriend. Remembering the instance he spoke about, he had gotten so lost that he was an hour late for your first date. You, thinking you had been stood up, had changed out your outfit and into a onesie. By the time he arrived, he had sweat through his shirt and looked like he’d walked about 50 miles. Being hesitant about the second date, he showed up with flowers an hour early and patiently waited outside while you got ready. His logic being the he could make the time up... somehow.

Telling him what you could see and reading out the name of the roads, you could hear his team in the background. Hinata being over-excited as usual, you could imagine him jumping up and down annoying everyone while Kageyama beat him up. While the other members were mumbling other background, Atsumu’s distinct accent was clear compared to everyone else. They were always so lively when you visited, jumping to talk to you or show you new moves, always thankful for the food and snacks you bought. Even if it made your boyfriend super jealous.

“Well done, baby. You’re doing so well. I’m so proud of you. Listen, you’re near Akaashi’s house ok? Remember him? He’s a year younger than me? We played in high school together. You met at our school reunion a while back. He’s a comic designer now.”

Casting your mind back, you nodded to yourself when you remembered the calm guy with dark hair that your boyfriend got along with so well despite being complete opposing personalities. The number of times you had heard ‘Akaashi’ shouted at various points, you had taken to copying Bokuto that night, much to Akaashi’s chagrin and your boyfriend’s delight.

“He’s expecting you ok? He’s a good friend of mine baby, I trust him with my life. He’ll keep you safe until I get there.”

Giving you his address, you started walking towards his apartment, it was near a main road and looking around you couldn’t see the vehicle anywhere. The panic from earlier still humming through your veins as you walked towards your destination.

“Kou, but-“

“Baby, don’t start saying anything. I know you’re thinking that you’re disrupting practice or ruining my game. That it’s a headache coming all the way over there when you haven’t even told me what’s wrong.”

His tone was calm and collected, but his words rang straight through your brain triggering your panic even further and the tears that had dried now coming back full force.

“Kou. I’m sorry.”

“Woah, hey. Don’t ever apologise. Ok? I never wanna hear you apologise for stuff like this. I’m leaving now. Go to Akaashi’s house and I’ll be there in as soon as I can, ok?”

“Ok, Kou. Thank you.”

“Welcome, baby. Love you.”

Waiting around for your boyfriend was making you edgy, you couldn’t sit still. What if your ex had seen Bokuto? What if he’d seen you come here? But you hadn’t seen him, a car was easy to spot right? What if he was tracking you? You had changed your number though? Akaashi had popped in twice to check on you, once to bring you a blanket and hot tea and the second time to ask if you wanted food. The tea was swirling in your stomach, the crying had made you fell nauseous and you were sure that your stomach would revolt against any food. Hearing voices from the hallway, your body tensed expecting the worst.

He found you.

He was going to hurt you again.

Instead, familiar grey-black hair popped up from behind the door and while your heart was still in your throat, the sight of him made the thread of fear loosen a little. Dropping his bag, Bokuto walked over to you before kneeling in front of you and holding your face in his hands as he leaned his forehead against yours. Thumbs wiping away any remnants of tears, he kissed you nose, cheeks and forehead before pulling you into his arms. The feel of his arms around you, the scent of his aftershave and faint smell of sweat from his sports wear eased the tension in your body a little but could do nothing against the sobs that broke free again.

“Shh, it’s ok baby. I got you. I’ll always have you. You’re safe now.”

“Kou... I saw him. He... he was behind me.”

Bokuto knew instantly who you meant, he wished he could personally do something about him but between his career and your fear, the idea of beating your ex to a pulp didn’t seem plausible. While he wasn’t super close with Daichi, he knew Kuroo was and was going to reach out and do something about it. Holding you at arms length, he brushed away your tears and kissed your forehead again, linking your wrists together so your couple bracelets latched on to each other. They were something you had seen on TikTok, two bracelets with magnets that would link when they were close. You thought he would reject the idea at first, but Bokuto thought they were the best way to show everyone you were his girl. Plus it gave him a great excuse to your hold hand when you went everywhere.

“See, baby? Look how these magnets find each other and attract one another. Just like you and me. Nothing could keep me away from you. I’ll always find you. Okay?”

You nodded, glancing down at the bracelets and then up at your boyfriend. His amber eyes full of worry but love and the way he held you like you were something so precious.

“Plus, if he tries anything I’ll beat him up, have you seen these muscles baby?”

You snorted as Bokuto flexed his arm, muscles straining against the sleeve of his tee and couldn’t help but fall into his chest giggling as he squished you. The tears from earlier forgotten as you embraced the loving nature of your gorgeous boyfriend.

[dc-said-bi-robin-rights]

So I’ve seen people wondering how Damian could possibly beat Talia al fucking Ghul at the age of ten, and yeah, thats definitely valid.

So behold, my good parent Talia head canons:

*Side note: Damian was not spoiled. I’ve seen way too many people use “spoiled” to describe early Damian, and, fuck no. This child has like seven different kinds of C-PTSD. He was forced to kill when he was like four and was trained in the most merciless ways imaginable to man, to the point fucking DEATHSTROKE expressed alarm (“I know how the League operates. I’ll ask again: what the hell did they do to you in there, kid?”) in that one arc he believed Damian might have been his son. Damian was absolutely not fucking spoiled. He was made to feel entitled. There’s a difference.

Now, back to the head canons:

-Talia makes up the whole “you must beat me to meet your father” thing so that she would have the power to send Damian to his father whenever she could make a convincing case of it, as Ra’s would never let Damian go just like that.

-She spends her time pulling strings to try to spare Damian the worst of Ra’s unnecessarily harsh training while he grows up until he is old enough that Ra’s will believe he could beat her. She also tried (but mostly failed, as her influence was always focused on Damian) to protect Mara.

-The reason early Damian is so entitled (not spoiled) is that, out of a strange guilt born to how often she failed to protect him from Ra’s unnecessarily cruel “training”, Talia just kinda..got Damian everything he wanted. Which..just kind of made it worse, because Damian grew up in a toxic cycle that told him that being pushed to the absolute limits during the day would win him a reward at night.

So Damian became used to pushing himself harshly to the limits and then expects a reward for doing so. However, his father’s family just wanted him to stop pushing himself so hard and will absolutely not reward him for being so harsh on himself, which confused Damian throughly. He and Bruce had a long talk about it, and Damian had to work on not imposing that same toxic cycle on other people (like the Titans, for example) later in his life.

-The minute Damian turns ten and Ra’s will believe Damian could beat her (as Damian, by this point, is just so good with a sword that Ra’s will believe the lie) she lets herself lose and sends Damian to his father.

-She breathes a sigh of relief she had been holding in for ten years when he is gone, but finds herself missing him terribly.

-She doesn’t mind though, because she knows he’s safe, and besides, now that Ra’s doesn’t have Damian to ensure her cooperation she can just visit him whenever she is able.

-The thing with Heretic is a terrible mistake, and her true reason for killing the Heretic is that she obviously expressly ordered him not to hurt a fucking hair on Damian’s head. While she does not allow herself to mourn in front of her operatives (“a moment of weakness, nothing more”) she absolutely does mourn and cry and break down and scream in private, as there is nothing more terrible than losing a son. She becomes absolutely obsessed with finding a way to bring Damian back and rectify her mistake, even more so than Bruce.

-Talia’s life becomes soulless and cold, as she pushes herself and all her resources into trying to find a way to bring Damian back.

-in a moment of weakness, she almost uses the Pit. Bruce stops her, and she’s glad, because she knows Damian would not want the half-life the pit offers, but she can’t help but hate Bruce for stopping her. She could have held her habibi in her arms again. She could have hugged him and told him how sorry she was that she couldn’t protect him better. She could have rectified her greatest regret. She could have brought Damian back from her greatest mistake. So she attacks Bruce, and is shot in the head (as she is in the comics) for her trouble.

-I can’t remember when or how she is brought back in the comics, so this will cross into AU territory (though frankly, it already was). She is brought back sometimes before Damian’s resurrection, and is a giant mess. She resents Bruce, and blames him for putting Damian where he shouldn’t have been (he doesn’t know Bruce didn’t let Damian be there and that Damian went against his orders). So she hates Bruce.

-At least, until he brings Damian back.

-Damian’s resurrection brings joy and soul back into Talia’s life. She completely forgives her beloved, especially upon hearing that Damian being there wasn’t his fault. She goes to Damian and practicality begs (well, the closest thing to begging Talia al Ghul can do) for forgiveness. Because even if the Heretic thing was a mistake, Damian is allowed to hold a grudge for his mother’s mistake literally killing him, and she knows that. It takes some time and a lot of very awkward conversations but Damian eventually forgives her with the promise she will visit more and be a part of his life. Talia, of course, agrees to any demands Damian makes to repair the relationship. She promises Damian she will understand if Damian goes no contact. Thankfully, they manage to work it out, and Talia becomes a more common sight in Wayne Manor.

-During the first few visits, most of the Batfamily find themselves acting protectively when either Talia or Damian insist on mother-son time and brush off Bruce. They make Damian wear a panic button and Alfred makes sure to frequently come in and out of the room with snacks. After a while, they stop doing this.

-Though Talia can’t always be in a place and time that allows her to do this, she and Damian try to video chat daily. Apart from a few exceptions, Talia almost always makes it to the video chats.

-Talia is the one person who Damian is always comfortable sharing his art with.

-Talia’s personal guard (the all-female ninjas we see in Arkham City) is always at Damian’s disposal, and though he doesn’t call on them or his mother’s information network often, it is a resource that he and his Titans can always count on. Damian knows most of his mother’s favorites by name, and they are always glad to help their little lord.

-Talia’s personal guard sometimes drops by and assist Damian during long and dangerous missions. No one questions how Talia knows about these.

[delimeful]

to taste your beating heart (4)

warnings: nightmares, flashbacks, mind control/thrall mention, mental breakdown, blood mention, impalement/staking, upsetting thoughts, panic, ptsd responses

-

A plastic-sounding click, like someone pressing a button.

Anx took a breath, staring intently at the person bustling around across from him.

Patton was making tea like someone vying for a professional butler position: setting saucers and cups in front of each of them, managing the teapot with a steady hand, motions smooth and automatic.

“Sorry, I’m just so used to setting up refreshments for guests,” he chuckled nervously. “My sister always insists on tea when she comes by, so—“

Logan shifted next to him, impatient and more than a little irritated after every one of his inquiries had been deflected or outright ignored. Patton had invited them in, though, and he was currently their best lead on one of the most vicious cases they’d ever dealt with.

Even if he seemed utterly incapable of answering any of their actual questions.

That wasn't saying he wasn't willing to talk at all. Roman was chattering with him, their most sociable member easily drawn into discussion and more than willing to natter on in the hopes that Patton would let some vital information slip.

Anx wasn’t the only one who noted the way their host set an extra saucer and cup out, but when he met Logan’s gaze, the hunter only rolled his eyes, more than content to dismiss it as another element of the stranger’s apparent airheaded personality.

Patton was still speaking, discussing the many alleged merits of ignoring allergies for the sake of fulfilling experiences. Roman, who was lactose intolerant, was nodding along wholeheartedly. Logan, who was the one to deal with Roman’s post-dairy consumption whining, looked a lot less agreeable.

His own attention remained pinned on Patton’s movements rather than his words. There was a pattern there, a careful turn of the cup so the handle was facing the right side, lift the teapot from the warmer, and pour. One by one, he went around the table.

Anx was the only one watching when the man finally fumbled. After pouring each of their cups with surprising grace, he reached that final, fifth teacup. He twisted the handle so it was right-aligned, lifted the teapot, poured— and then reached for what looked like a cream pitcher.

A beat late, Patton’s hands suddenly swerved to the side, and he pulled them back as though he’d been burned. His voice didn’t even falter.

Anx reached across the table lightning-quick and seized the pitcher, knocking a few of the porcelain jars over and effectively cutting through the conversion as he did. Roman was asking something, but Patton only stared at him, something both fearful and grateful in his gaze.

Anx pulled the lid off, and the thick smell of blood hit him, like iron and rust.

“Your sister, you said?” Logan asked, and Patton bit his lip hard enough to bleed.

Click.

He was in a different room of the same tiny apartment, though it took him a moment to recognize the interior.

Put bluntly, it looked as though a miniature hurricane had torn through it.

The wallpaper was shredded and splattered. The cute decorative furniture had been thrown askew at best, smashed to bits at worst. Everything was in disarray, the valuable and mundane targeted indiscriminately. An entire life torn to pieces.

In the eye of the storm, Patton stood, hands fisted in his hair and eyes bloodshot.

They’d known the backlash of the bond breaking would be hard on Patton, but they hadn’t been prepared for this. It was entirely possible that they had never run into a thrall this strong, one maintained for so long, in their entire hunting career.

Most aggressive thralls would attack relentlessly to defend their master from harm. Seeing as they’d been the ones to kill his “sister”, if Patton was going to vent his ire on anyone, it would be them. Roman stepped forwards carefully regardless, knowing that they owed it to him to at least try to help him recover. “Patton?”

“I should have helped her,” he replied tonelessly, voice half-ruined from screaming. He picked up a broken chunk of a table leg, and they all went tense, but all he did was slam it against the wall.

“I should have saved her!” he cried, punctuating every word with a swing. “Where is she, where is she, what did I do to her?”

“A better question would be: what did she do to you?” Logan asked, ignoring the sharp look Anx sent his way. They’d all been unsettled at the way the vamp had talked about Patton, like someone possessive over a favored plaything, but that didn’t mean they should be bringing it up now.

They’d finally gotten Patton’s full attention, as he turned to them with angry tears in his eyes. “She did everything for me! And I— I gave her away, I betrayed her…”

“She was hurting people,” Anx cut in, voice firm but not unkind. For all that he’d been through, Patton didn’t deserve unkind.

“I could have fixed it, I thought I was— I was getting through to her,” he pleaded, his voice unsteady and unconvincing even to himself. He dropped the wood, pressing bleeding knuckles against his face to stem the tears.

“It’s not your fault, Patton, okay?” Roman tried, stepping closer until he could reach out and set his hand on a trembling shoulder. Patton only seemed to bow further with the weight of his grief.

“Giving her up was supposed to kill me,” he said softly, the frenzy gone from him. “How am I supposed to live without her?”

“The same way everyone else does,” Roman pulled him in for a hug, his own eyes wetter than they’d been before. “One day at a time.”

Click.

The living room of the house— their house.

Perhaps more importantly, the smell of something burning.

Anx had always been twitchy about things like this-- a thousand potential disasters in mind for every little inconvenience-- so he bolted off the arm of the couch the moment the scent registered.

When he got to the kitchen, he heard the rattle of an active microwave, saw Patton standing and staring blankly at the display as the inside of the microwave clouded up with smoke.

Cringing at the thought of the smoke alarm going off, he turned on the overhead fan and pulled the window up before finally yanking the microwave door open.

A plastic takeout container was halfway to a melted puddle, mixing with whatever leftovers had formerly resided there. He slid on a pair of duck-themed oven mitts and grabbed the most solid-looking parts, quickly lifting and carrying the mess to the balcony where it could cool down without making their house smell like burnt plastic.

When he returned, Patton was still in that same spot, frowning slightly as though just realizing that something might be a little off. Like someone had pressed pause while the world fast-forwarded around him, Patton had described it once.

Anx flitted about for a moment, putting the mitts back and cleaning the leftover residue, and then finally faced his friend with a wry half-smile. Patton’s eyes snapped to him, as though just realizing he was there.

“Hey, Pat.” He reached out and set his hand against Patton’s back, watching as the touch helped ground him slightly. “Can you go sit at the table? I’ll bring us both something to eat.”

Without a word, Patton turned and walked to their little dining table.

Cooking was admittedly harder when he ducked away to check on the other room every few moments, but he managed alright, only singeing the eggs slightly where Roman would have incinerated them.

He set the table for them both, and sat across from Patton, who was motionless and quiet in his chair.

“Can we eat together?” Anx asked, offering Patton a fork so there was a physical prompt as well as a verbal one.

It took a moment, but Patton gripped the fork easily and started to work through the motions of eating, mirroring Anx. Whenever he faltered or seemed to forget what he was in the middle of, Anx would nudge his attention back on track.

Once they were finished, he gathered up his dishes and asked Patton to grab his, carrying them back to the kitchen together.

Patton paused for a moment at the sink, mouth twitching into a frown as he stared at his glass and the lingering layer of orange juice at the bottom.

“Does anyone want tea?” he asked suddenly, a well-practiced line in a cheery tone. “I’m very good at tea service, you know.”

Anx swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’m good, Pat,” he declined instead of pointing out that they didn’t have any tea in the house.

Patton seemed to get a little hazier, his face going sad and then quickly lax again. Anx took the glass from him and offered him a hand to hold instead, squeezing his palm comfortingly when he accepted.

“I need help out in the garden today. Do you think you could lend a hand or two?”

He dipped his head in a nod, and as they made their way to the back door, Anx shot a text off to the group chat.

> nightmare on edge street: out in the garden with pat. bad day protocol, stat

When they came back in hours later, dirt under their nail beds and probably a little sunburned, Roman and Logan had already combined their talents to set up an elaborately decorated but still structurally sound blanket fort spanning the entirety of the living room.

Patton’s face twitched into a tremulous little smile as the others waved them over, and Anx felt him squeeze their joined hands gratefully.

Click.

The sequence rewound, restarted. Ran him through it over and over, the same scenes-- the same memories. Patton pouring tea with a determined, terrified glint to his eye. Patton’s mind struggling under the stress of the snapped bond. Patton working through a difficult day with the help of friends.

The scenery grew brighter and brighter with every repetition, like saturation turned all the way up on a screen, until they were as painful as sunlight on his bare skin. He tried to close his eyes, to move away, to change something, anything, but his body wasn’t his own.

Look at him, it seemed to demand, keeping him frozen in a sensory hell. Pay attention. Look what you did. Understand how you hurt him.

Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.

Clunk.

Silence. The memories vanished, leaving him floating in an impossible, endless black space. Between one blink and the next, he was eye-to-eye with a mirror image, something about it just slightly off.

He didn’t notice the stake in its hand until it was too late.

---

Anx jerked upright, hands jumping to his chest as the phantom sensation of wood between his ribs faded. His breath stuttered painfully, as though he expected to feel ichor welling up in his mouth any minute.

Staking a vampire was an archaic hunter method. It was difficult to manage, it was messy, and it was the slowest and most painful way possible to kill a vampire. He knew this, though he wasn’t sure which life was providing the facts.

Regardless of memories, he couldn’t know how it felt to actually be staked. He’d been injured before, with a coven as temperamental as his, but nothing like that. Nothing even close to that. It was just a bad dream, an imagined pain.

There was a subtle shifting nearby, and his head snapped up, eyes bright and teeth bared. If those assholes thought he was in the mood to have his space invaded--

“Easy, Count Chocula.” Across the room, the sword-wielder-- Roman, that was his name-- settled back into the armchair by the door, watching him with narrowed eyes. “I was simply noticing your… abrupt awakening?”

Right. Because he wasn’t settled into one of the tiny, dark rooms reserved for the newly-turned and those who couldn’t shake off the urge to sleep. He was captured by weird hunters, who trapped him in their weird house, and asked weird invasive leading questions about his weird night terrors.

He was also tucked into a bed, for some reason.

The comforter had already slipped down halfway due to his sudden jolt into wakefulness, and he wasted no time in kicking free of the sheets. The room was surprisingly dark in both theme and lighting, with deep purple walls and heavy spiderweb-patterned curtains blocking out any potential sunlight.

There was also a warding circle of ash carefully smudged in a perimeter around the bed, the burning containment runes strong enough to make him want to sneeze even from this distance. The diameter of the circle was wide enough that he could theoretically keep away from any stabbings if he pissed Roman off enough, but add even one more hunter to the mix and it would take virtually no effort to pincer him.

Nothing he could do about the new cage for now, with the hunter staring at him expectantly from his sentry position. He sent a poisonous glare back and hissed, still crouched on the bed like an exceptionally angry gargoyle.

Roman pressed an offended hand to his chest, but was cut off by an inordinately cheerful knock at the door. His expression flickered to a sort of bitter resignation, and he shot Anx a much more serious warning look before unlocking and cracking the door open.

“Hey, Pat! I thought you were taking a nap?” he asked with impressively feigned lightness to his voice.

“I was, I just— Is he awake?” Another too-familiar voice replied, sounded distracted. “I felt…”

“Yeah, Padre,” Roman admitted after a strained pause. “He’s up. You remember your key?”

“Of course!” Patton said, and neither of them elaborated on what the hell that was supposed to mean. Roman stepped aside, and Patton beelined to the bed like a compass needle to true north.

He stopped just short of the circle, like a determined enough— or cornered enough— vamp couldn’t reach out and drag him in. “Anx! I’ve been so worried about you! You took quite a tumble, are you feeling alright?”

Anx stared at him. The words were bright, but there was a thread of something fervent and barely-controlled in them, something frenetic in the way he shifted from foot to foot. It sent a pervasive feeling of wrongness down his spine, like looking at an old photograph and realizing that something you remembered from it was entirely absent.

Anx didn’t— couldn’t know enough about Patton to recognize when he was acting off, but every piece slotted neatly into place anyways, dragging him to a conclusion he didn’t intend to realize; Patton was pretending, ignoring the parts of him that felt bad to reassure the rest of them. After everything he'd already gone through, he was bearing the stress of being thralled without a word.

He could feel the thrall tether pulled taut between them, already mentally frayed from both the time passed since feeding and the pain that had ricocheted through him at his last order. Looking at Patton like this, it was bizarrely easy to loosen his grip and let that last thread connecting them fall apart.

Patton’s shoulders eased, all of him sagging slightly like a puppet with strings cut. And wasn’t that just an uncomfortably accurate metaphor.

In the next moment, the hunter was stepping neatly over the line of ash and into the circle, arms lifted. Roman shouted something, but his alarmed words were meaningless noise against the roar of anticipatory fear that overcame Anx.

Get away, his instincts screamed, but his body remained stuck, stalled by a resentful whisper in the back of his mind: Doesn’t he deserve to get a few hits in though? Look at what you did to him.

A sudden touch made him curl in on himself, but the arms that folded around him were careful, even gentle. His head jerked up, and sure enough, Patton was hugging him. He froze, struck dumb.

Over Patton’s shoulder, Roman was stopped a few feet away, hand outstretched as though he’d planned to yank Patton back out of the danger zone. Anx met his stare, eyes round as quarters.

“I did not tell him to do this,” he blurted, and Patton’s chest vibrated with a little sniffly chuckle. The human was so warm.

At the door, Logan appeared, glasses slightly askew. “Patton? I heard—“

He paused, taking in the room. His expression grew more and more unimpressed. “... I see. Exactly what happened while I was away?”

[andiinaraethtash]

Chapter 18: The Way It Used to Be Is So Far Gone

Notes:

Hiiii, everybody. Yeah. It's been a month. In my defense, real life has been busy, I went on vacation, and I got a really bad case of Moon Knight brainrot. Seriously, I've got three more wips just from watching that show. Why me. Anyway, here's the next chapter. I don't know how many people actually care about this fic, but I do, and I want to finish it for me. So there. TW: Allusions to Xornoth driving people insane and making them kill each other. That's it, that's the worst it gets.

Shrub would like to say that this day has been full of surprises, and not necessarily in a good way. She’s awakened by her woodpecker, who for no apparent reason is trilling loudly in an alarmed way. When she looks around, trying to determine why it’s creating such a racket, she finds something out of place, but it’s not a dangerous thing. Instead, it’s a series of small mushrooms, spread out from her nether portal.

Naturally, she has to investigate.

Her vision clears from the purple of the portal and her breath is taken away, because she recognizes this landscape. This landscape is home. The giant mushrooms, the small streams and gurgling waterfalls, it’s all home.

As soon as she stumbles away from the portal, she looks around, desperate for any hint of corruption, or, on a brighter hope, her people. Aside from the wind in the leaves and the flow of water, there’s no movement, but there’s none of the blood red that has haunted her dreams since she fled to the land of the empires, no pulsating corruption or crazed screams from her people driven to the brink of sanity.

Feeling like it’s going to disappear if she blinks, she holds her breath, not daring to take more than a few hesitant steps forward until her vision starts greying out and she feels like she’s going to pass out. Then, and only then, does she take a deep breath, and is pleasantly surprised when the scene in front of her doesn’t change.

The portal had led her out onto a covered bridge, and she rests her hand against one of the posts, marvelling at the familiar texture. She’s pretty sure she even knows where she is, and, without thinking about it, she starts running to the top of the hill ahead of her. Sure enough, in the distance, nestled in the valley below her, she can see the little mushroom farmhouse that had been home for so long.

She wants to run to it, wants to throw open the door and fall into her mother’s embrace, wants to be gathered up in her father’s arms and hear him promise that they’ll never leave her alone. She even stumbles a step in that direction, before realising what is so wrong about the landscape around her.

It’s quiet, still. Abandoned. There’s no birds in the trees, no calls of wildlife, no footsteps from the livestock wandering around in their pens.

No people.

As soon as she realises that, the landscape becomes almost alien, foreign to her despite the familiarity aching in her bones. Shrub has to take several deep, slow breaths to stave off a panic attack. Without her people, her home is dead (like her people, her friends and family, might be), and that is so wrong, so terribly wrong that it is triggering something deep within her to want to scream and cry and fall apart.

She falls to her knees, fingers splayed out onto the moss and burrowing into it. It’s cool, spongy almost, and it helps ground her, because home or not, it’s familiar, something both her old world and her new one have in common.

After a few more deep, steadying breaths, she pushes herself to her feet. Her people might not be here, but they have to be somewhere. There’s no bodies, or traces of bodies either, so they must have run somewhere. They had to have, right?

A treacherous part of her whispers, unless Xornoth managed to corrupt them all, and she struggles to shut that part of herself down. They can’t all have fallen. There’s no way.

But then she remembers the haze of fear that had swamped her as she ran, and red eyes and gasping for breath, and friends who had become enemies, and she has to admit, there is every possibility there’s no one left to track down.

But she won’t know until she tries. First, though, she needs some gear, and so she reluctantly turns back to her portal. She has to blink back tears as the purple haze clouds her vision, then stumbles as she steps back out into the Undergrove.

She’s not alone. Pix and Jimmy are right outside her house, arguing heatedly about something, but as soon as she stumbles, their heads turn and their gazes snap to her.

“Oh, thank Cod,” Jimmy breathes, and rushes forward.

Shrub grins at him. “Jimmy! You’re not going to believe this—I found my home! It’s right through there, I can find my people—!”

“You were in the Nether?” Jimmy asks—demands, really—sounding very put-out. “Shrub, we’ve been scouring your kingdom for you, we thought you were dead—or worse!”

“No, I’m fine,” she says brightly. “Guys, my home—it’s still standing! My people might still be alive!”

Jimmy opens his mouth, still looking very annoyed, but Pix cuts him off. “Shrub, as happy as I am for you, you can’t just wander off with Xornoth still on the loose. We don’t know where he is, and he might try to capture you, too.”

Shrub goes to try to explain, then stops, because something about that doesn’t make sense. “Too? What do you mean, too?”

The two men share a look, and she instantly decides she doesn't like that look. “It’d be easier to show you,” Jimmy says, gesturing for her to follow.

Hesitating, Shrub glances back at the portal, debating. On the one hand… her people. They could be out there somewhere, and she can save them if she can find them. On the other hand, her friends here are depending on her. They need her help, and while she wants nothing more than to set off to find her people, so that she’s not alone anymore.

Then she feels Pix squeeze her shoulder, and she realises that whether or not she finds her people, she isn’t alone. She has her friends, her little mismatched and broken family, and she has to help put it back together again.

So she turns to the two men, nods, and readies her wings for a flight.

________

Jimmy is low-key surprised when Shrub’s first, immediate reaction to seeing Gem and Pearl cuddling together with Sausage on the floor in front of the small staircase is just to gasp, her hands flying to cover her mouth. He’s about to explain to her what they know, but she flies forward, and while Sausage stiffens, ready to defend his friends, she just flings herself into Gem’s and Pearl’s laps, clinging to them like she’s afraid they will disappear if she lets go.

Beside him, Pix relaxes, smiling, and ambles toward them at a much more sedate pace. “How are you feeling, Gem?”

Gem shivers, but manages a weak grin. “Never better,” she says, her voice wavering and raspy like she needs a drink, and Jimmy immediately moves, grabbing a clean phial from Scott’s stash and filling it in the cauldron in the kitchen area.

He presses it into her hands, wincing at the freezing touch, and gives her as stern a look as he can manage. “Drink that. You must be very dehydrated.”

As Gem takes a long sip, Pearl nods. “They had her in the Nether. I don’t think she was given much if any water.”

“Only a few drops here and there, to keep me alive,” Gem admits, her voice still weak but with less of a rasp. She nods her thanks, and Sausage takes the bottle from her hands before her grip on it can slip.

“Thanks, Jimmy,” he says. There’s something about his voice… It's simultaneously solemn and relieved, sounding lighter than it has in at least a week (but Cod, what a week it has been, and a few days longer than that as well).

Scott shuffles forward from the base of the stairs up to the loft, opposite from where the three remaining members of the Wither Rose Alliance are huddled. “Pearl… earlier, you said something. You said Exor had her.”

Jimmy stiffens. The implications of that alone… he’s aware of his hands shaking and he has to consciously take a deep breath to avoid hyperventilating or puking or anything. If Exor is loose, if Xornoth has already done the ritual—but surely they would know about it, they would have felt something, there would have been some indication—

Pearl hesitates, then sighs. “I’ll explain more when Joel and Lizzie get here. I only want to explain this once.”

Jimmy narrows his eyes. There’s too little concern in her stance and voice for it to be that pressing, but still, she wouldn’t idly say something like ‘Exor had her’ without meaning it. There’s no way she would mistakenly say something like that.

It takes a few more minutes—at this point, they’ve been gone for nearly two and a half hours—but eventually Lizzie and Joel turn up. Lizzie looks relieved to see Shrub here, and Gem still upright, and Jimmy goes to help her and Joel lay out the items they’d acquired, which for some reason includes a cauldron, despite the fact there’s already one here, and a brewing stand, again, despite the fact that there is already one here.

Katherine doesn’t seem that disgruntled by the extraneous equipment and instead starts throwing ingredients into her cauldron almost at random, though he knows there must be some method to the madness. She’s never haphazard about things this important.

As she works, Jimmy wraps an arm around his sister, hugging her close. He’d been worried about her, out there with only Joel to protect her, and though he knows she’s a big girl and can take care of herself, it’s hard to watch her leave. That was part of the reason he’d been so quick to comply with Katherine’s request that they go to find Shrub; it had taken his mind off his worry.

Surprisingly, it only takes a few more minutes for Katherine to prepare whatever it is she’s got brewing, and she soon is filling another phial with something clear blue. She approaches Gem cautiously, and Gem follows her with her eyes, looking wary, but when Katherine presses the phial into her hands, she drinks it willingly enough, shuddering as it goes down.

Almost immediately, she groans, and clutches at her chest. Sausage shoots upright, glaring at Katherine, as Pearl pulls Gem closer, and rocks her back and forth, trying to soothe her pain. There’s a tense second where nothing happens, Gem is just folded over, pain evident on her face, then her expression slowly clears as her complexion slowly warms, the white shrinking back into the roots of her hair before disappearing entirely.

Slowly, she straightens, setting the phial to the side as she grimaces. “That was officially the worst heartburn I’ve ever had.”

Sausage and Pearl both let out relieved laughs, and Shrub, who hadn’t really moved from where she’d burrowed between Pearl and Gem, giggles before latching onto Gem’s arm and squeezing hard.

Jimmy catches Scott’s eye from across the room, and he notices that he looks a little teary-eyed. Which is strange, because usually he’s the epitome of I-couldn’t-care-less-about-your-problems, but then, lately, that hasn’t really been the case. He’s been getting involved emotionally, and Jimmy has to admit, he likes seeing this side of Scott.

Gem manages to wriggle out of the impromptu cuddle pile, laughing, and gives Katherine a big hug. “Thank you,” she murmurs softly, and even from here, with her back turned to him, Jimmy can tell that Katherine is starting to tear up.

He knows losing Gem had hit Katherine hard—he still isn’t exactly sure why—but it’s more than obvious that she is beyond relieved that this time, this time she was able to save her friend.

Jimmy moves forward, wraps Gem in a hug as soon as she’s disengaged from Katherine, and pats her on the back. “Good to see you, Gem.”

Surprisingly, he even means it. He won’t say he’s always held a fondness for Gem, but she has always been the most tolerable of the main three of the Wither Rose Alliance. But since they lost fWhip the first time, he’s started empathising with her, and even grew to respect her as she pressed on without her sibling. He can’t imagine he’d have soldiered on as well as she did if he’d lost his sibling.

Then they’d lost her, and he’d realised that quite without meaning to, he’d grown fond of her, and losing her had been a blow. Now she’s back, and he can quite honestly say he’s more than relieved.

Pix is next, gently folding Gem into his arms and whispering, “Welcome back,” in such a soft voice Jimmy knows he’s not the only one who tears up.

Gem then makes her way over to Scott, who backs away, hands spread and a panicked look on his face as she stops right in front of him. Jimmy can’t see her face from the angle she’s at, but her posture is relaxed, and she doesn’t seem afraid or angry.

“Scott,” she says softly. “It’s okay. I don’t blame you, I knew what I was getting myself into, you are in no way to blame.”

Scott slumps slightly, his hands dropping to his sides. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Whether or not you blame me, it was my fault, I hurt you, I ran—”

“You didn’t mean to, and you were just trying to keep from making it worse. Scott,” she reaches out and grabs his hand. Jimmy has to give her credit. Despite how cold he knows Scott’s skin to be, she doesn’t shudder or let go. “You don’t have to blame yourself. Exor was the one to blame. He gave me some sort of potion,” she adds, a bit louder so the whole room can hear. “I don’t remember what happened after that, but I woke up in a cell in the Nether. He came by a few times, mostly to taunt me, but he got my blood as well. Tell me he hasn’t gotten yours.”

Joey scoffs slightly. “I wish we could, but he used Pearl as leverage to make us give it to him. You know, before she stabbed Scott in the back and killed Joel.”

Gem whirls around, staring in disbelief at Pearl, who squirms uncomfortably. “After the funeral, after he poisoned us all—” Gem lets out a gasp, but Pearl presses on “—Exor dropped by the Gilded Helenthia, and told me he’d rigged two kingdoms to blow if I didn’t do what he wanted. I meant it when I said I didn’t have a choice.”

Sausage nods. “He’d rigged Mythland and the Crystal Cliffs, hadn’t he?”

Pearl nods, and Jimmy exchanges looks with the others. Pix seems to have accepted that easily enough, but there are a few things bugging the rest of them about that story.

“If you knew where the bombs were, why didn’t you disarm them sooner?” Lizzie asks, and Jimmy can’t help but nod.

Pearl sighs. “I didn’t know which kingdoms he’d rigged. If I went poking around, he might have set one of them off just to punish me. I couldn’t risk it.”

“Then how did you know which ones were rigged?” Joey demands, and this time it’s Shrub who nods.

“And why didn’t you just tell us when you found out?” she asks.

Pearl shares a look with Gem, like she’s debating how much to tell them, and Jimmy frowns. “The whole truth, please and thank you.”

She sighs again, and closes her eyes. “Honestly? I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t sure you’d believe me, and… I messed up. I obeyed him, I did what he wanted without question, I made you think I betrayed you. I… guess I felt like it was my responsibility, and my penance. I am sorry, Joey, about you getting hurt. I didn’t know you were there, or I’d have been more careful. As it was, I was rushing, because I didn’t know how much time I had before Exor realised I was gone.”

Jimmy nods. He can see where she’s coming from. Hell, he probably would have done the same, down to the screw-up that resulted in the explosion, but that still didn’t answer the original question.

Before he can ask her to actually explain how she found out, Scott scowls slightly and asks, “You still haven’t explained why you keep calling him Exor. I thought it was Xornoth.”

“So did we,” Gem admits, pain evident on her face, and Jimmy wonders what exactly happened to her in the days she was gone. “But right as we were escaping, he told us. He laughed, and he… he made fWhip tell us.”

Electricity runs through Jimmy's spine, making him straighten as literal shock courses through him. “fWhip?” He hears himself ask distantly, and to his continued shock, Pearl and Gem both nod.

“He was still holding on,” Pearl explains. “When Scott managed to hurt him in Mythland, fWhip was able to break free long enough to tell me both where the end crystals were, and where Gem was.”

Gem visibly blinks back tears, and forces out, “He told us to run.”

Jimmy’s heart aches. He hadn’t been kidding when he’d told fWhip all those weeks ago (was it really only two? That seems too hard to believe), that he’d come to consider fWhip a friend, despite their negative history. To hear Gem talk about him with such pain… he knows deep in his gut that something happened to fWhip, and knowing Xornoth—or Exor, whichever—it can’t have been anything good.

Sausage is the one to break the brief silence that follows Gem’s statement. “He’s gone, isn’t he,” he asks softly, sounding devastated, and Pearl and Gem both hesitate, then nod.

“We think so,” Pearl says, her voice surprisingly steady. “He screamed—then he just… It was awful.”

Jimmy can only imagine. Having your mind snuffed out while knowing that your body was going to be paraded around like some sort of puppet by a cruel and capricious god… that sounds terrifying, and probably painful as well.

But worse, he knows Gem and Pearl witnessed it. That scream has to be imbedded in their minds, and probably will be for the rest of their lives. Cod, that must have been terrifying for them as well. No wonder they can barely bring themselves to speak about it.

It takes a long moment before anyone can bring themselves to break the silence, during which Gem wanders back over to the cuddle pile, where Pearl, Sausage, and Shrub still haven’t moved, and joins back in.

Finally Scott tentatively asks, “Are… are we sure the demon wasn’t just lying to fWhip and you both? I mean, surely we’d know it if Exor was walking around. We’d have felt it when he did the ritual.”

Gem shakes her head, leaning against Sausage’s shoulder. “He said he’s using fWhip the way he used Xornoth, I think it’s just that he had less time to try to corrupt fWhip then he did Xornoth, so instead of turning him into his minion, he just… ended him. The ritual… I don’t know why he needs it, but I think it’ll boost his power. Think, he’s only on par with Xornoth, not with what I’d expect of a god.”

“Either way, we can’t let him complete it. We have to end this, before anyone else gets hurt.” Pearl juts her chin out in a stubborn way, looking for anyone to challenge her. No one does.

Scott sighs heavily. “Then we have no choice. We’re going to have to kill him somehow. I’m sorry, Gem, I know he was your brother, but—”

“No, it’s okay.” Gem’s face says it’s anything but. “He’d hate what he’s been turned into.”

“There’s just one problem with that,'' Lizzie puts in. “In killing Exor, we may end up killing Scott.” Jimmy gives her a confused look, and she must notice because she pulls out an old, leatherbound book and flips to a certain page. “‘Twin souls trapped in an endless battle since the beginning of time, chaos and order, light and dark, hot and cold. One can not exist without the other, for if one soul dies, the other is sure to follow.’ If this doesn’t refer to you and Xornoth, I don’t know what does. But if we get rid of Exor, we get rid of Xornoth, and, well…”

Jimmy gapes at her for a moment, then shakes his head. “Right. That’s not an option then.”

“Jimmy…” Scott says, and Jimmy shakes his head again.

“No, Scott, we’ve lost too much already, we can’t lose you, too— I can’t lose you.” He feels nervous saying that aloud, especially in front of everyone, and he spots Joel slip some diamonds over to Pix, looking disgruntled about it, but his eyes stay focused on Scott, whose face falls as he comes closer.

“Jimmy,” he says softly, reaching up to caress Jimmy’s face. “You won’t be losing me. I’ll be right here with you. But you have duties to this world, while I… I will be waiting for you in the next one.”