#even this far into healing i ignore what im made of because im more comfortable being nothing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

definitelynotshouting · 7 days

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context: ik most of my asks are pretty disorganized, stream of consciousness type of thing but GEEZ this got out of hand. you know that thing cats do when they bring you a dead mouse and *they're* super proud of it and you're just like dude.. why /lh

i usually put whatever my immediate thoughts are after reading the chapter and this time i thought it might be fun to write it out before. can you tell im running on five hours of sleep?? lmk if this made any coherent sense because even i dont understand it!!

so last chapter ripped my heartt out and stomped on it. i am LIVING for the way this whole thing was written, gorgeous prose as always <3. i was very curious as to wether Mumbo would question Grian but i think him NOT doing that was SO in character, and i adore it. I feel like w/ some fics (my own writing included) Scar is the ONLY one Grian relies on for support (in ANY area), and whenever Mumbo is even in the picture, he's just kinda "there", he doesn't check up on Grian or broach the topic of whatever is currently plaguing our little bird guy (basically, he's not involved in Grian's life despite being "his best friend"). And the way you characterized him was just So Real?? I would wager a guess (correct me if im wrong ofc) that part of it is that he just DOESNT know, (because Grian is oh so good at telling half truths and privately justifying his self sabotage) but a part of it is also him being lowkey willfully ignorant. he doesnt WANT Grian to be sick (mentally or otherwise) but definetly knows that SOMETHING is up. he really WANTS to help fix whatever is going on (evident by the gold farm) but he doesnt know what Grian needs or how to help him.

i have been OBSESSING over how Grian saying goodnight to Mumbo was ACTUALLY his goodbye to him but Mumbo DOESNT KNOW AND ITS EATING ME ALIVE. (also thought it was super interesting how Grian sort of took Mumbo leaving to sleep as "permission" to do the deed)

side ish note: how tf does Grian even plan to do that?? ik he's got the spider eyes and i *think* he's planning to turn the healing potions into weakness potions but like?? how is he going to do that??? i would assume that the gang would be watching the potions AS they were brewing, and even if they weren't, healing potions and weakness potions are.... vastly different colors. (unless im mixing them up with something else). also aren't they going to walk in on him prepping or already being in the middle of it and just save him like last time? the team as a whole has done a pretty good job on keeping an eye on Grian (from just a "this person can't walk" standpoint) so far. is he waiting for a chance when everyone is busy or does he plan to use MORE weakness potions to make it stronger or quicker?? im interested to see if he's even going to follow The Plan, because up until this point he's been pretty careful with trying to make plans and sneak around EXCEPT for the spider eyes basement adventure, which makes me wonder is he'll get more frantic/desperate as the appointed time draws closer.

Real talk though, Mumbo (and everyone else) is going to be beating himself up over not noticing when stuff goes down (which i would assume would be next chapter, but idk). Also, the fact that Grian asked him to stay means A LOT. To me (and idk if this is what you meant to convey) that signals that a part of him WANTS to stay. theres a part of him that wants to continue to experience the comfort and joy he gets from his friends, but he feels like he's only going to continue to hurt them, so to him this is the ONLY option to keep them safe. also the majority of his existence is just misery and pain so thats probably not helping. (PLUS the whole slew of mental health issues, this is not purely self sacrificial).

anyway, i LOVED this chapter as always, it was like chicken noodle soup for my overworked little soul and i savored every bit of it!! (also, no need to apologize for not having enough spoons!! i dont have any chronic illnesses but i know that shit sucks. this is a particularly long ask for me so dont feel compelled to answer everything in it, or answer right away. hope ur doing well <3)

-🐛

BUG ANONNNN THIS COMMENT IS SO SWEET AND I LOVED READING IT OMGGGG

you hit the nail exactly on the head for where im going with mumbo's characterization-- there is 100% a level of willful ignorance there. Ive always felt like mumbo is the kind of guy who has a thing about avoidance-- he feels very much like a character who will absolutely do his best to ignore things that hes decided arent his business (right up until he stops LMFAO) and part of that in hunger au is him being so anxious for grian to get better that he stops looking at the red flags grian is aggressively waving around. It'll work out!! He's sure of it!! Grian even directly said he's trying to get better!! And i think if he looked at that for longer than it takes for him to flinch away from the entire subject, he would see how much of a bald lie that is.

But he doesnt, because thats a LOT to deal with, and hes never really??? Seen this side of Grian before??? Not the way Pearl and Scar have. Theres a lot of intricacy there that i feel im skimming over but like Mumbo is very much keeping his own sanity in mind here too and thats another painful factor to the whole situation. Idk i have lots of thoughts about it and about the choice here to depict Mumbo giving in to that willful ignorance, and how its going to affect his and Grian's relationship in the future of the fic

(Quick tw for frank discussions of suicide below)

You've also completely nailed the subtext i was getting at with Grian asking Mumbo to stay-- smth ive always felt is a bit underrepresented in narratives like these are how at its most base core, suicide and suicidal ideation are often about needing something to fundamentally change in your life. It takes a LOT of both hopelessness and sheer willpower to actively try and overcome your body's instinctive will to survive. That instinct is baked into our very cells; when someone commits, it means their hopelessness for meaningful change to happen in their lives was so strong it overpowered everything else. And that is something deeply, deeply tragic, and also something i really wanted to respectfully highlight in this portrayal-- how bad things are when you spiral that far. Grian is starving to death. He wasnt lying about maybe having a week to live-- the intermittent feeding has kept him alive longer than anticipated, but its like trying to wall off an avalanche; theres only so much you can do in the face of all that :( and that hopelessness, in combination with how guilty he feels for what he did to his friends, has manifested in him feeling like his only recourse is to kill himself... but at the same time, that instinct to survive and KEEP SURVIVING is still blaring in his veins, and that manifests as him asking Mumbo to stay. Its a bit paradoxical, but its meant to really show how bad his mental state is, that he is willfully ignoring all the frantic signals his body is screaming at him to try and stay alive rn 🥺🥺🥺🥺

Also, with the potions-- without revealing too much about how this is going to happen, Grian is planning on making fermented spider eyes and using them to turn the healing potions into harming potions, which he'll then drink in the in-between to make sure he dies immediately. Now.. i know how this is gonna go, and i know the exact mechanics around how this is gonna shake out, but smth to keep in mind is hes not thinking logically anymore, he has FULLY capitulated to his own storm of emotional wreckage. So yes there are DEFINITELY some questions to be asked about how hes gonna try and get this done, but in all honesty they mostly boil down to "sheer opportunity" which you'll see a bit more of in the next chapter >:] but yeah its meant to be a bit illogical skdbwkdjskd since he just isnt thinking coherently anymore at this point :(

Bug anon thank u for my entire life this comment was so sweet and so wonderful to receive, i really love it when my writing is analyzed like this and seen and understood!!! Its amazing its such a wonderful feeling to have your work be seen like this and its something i very much do not take for granted :]]]❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ tysm for the ask i am seriously treasuring it SO MUCH rn (and also thank you for the well-wishes!! Im doing my best to stay silly out here HEHE)❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

#shouting speaks #asks #hunger au #compliments #suicide #cw suicide #just cause it gets real frank in the discussion of it #long post #txt

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englishstrawbie · 1 year

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hi! how are you?

i recently saw your lyric prompt challenge and i like your writing, so i thought i’d send one :)

i really like the song Quiet by Camila Cabello and maybe it could make a nice marina fanfiction. to be honest i love the lyrics to the entire song haha but i’m gonna send you the chorus because it sort of reminds me of the maya/carina dynamic.

But now your hands are touchin' my waist

In the back of the car, you just couldn't wait

And now my hands are movin' in ways

Like I need you right now, I just couldn't wait

And my, my mind's made so much noise for so long and it's gone

'Cause when you kiss me, it's quiet

Oh, it's quiet

im sorry if this message was longer than necessary 😅 byee

There is really no need to apologise! Thank you for sending this one, I love the lyrics and I know what you mean, these lyrics feel very them. It also gave me the chance to write a little bit about what their reconciliation might look like. I hope you enjoy it! 😊

A link to the song

>>>>>>>>>>

It had been Maya’s idea for a date night. Something fun and different – plus, they are showing Dirty Dancing. Maya doesn’t tell many people, but it is her favourite movie, something that Carina finds both surprising and amusing.

They are still getting used to being in each other’s company again after three months apart; still healing from the traumas they have both been through. Maya continues to see Diane on a weekly basis, back at work now and settled into her role as lieutenant. Carina is still staying at the Archfield and sees her own therapist once-a-week to figure out her own thoughts and feelings.

They both still wear their wedding rings, both still committed to the idea that they can find their way back to being happily married again, but it is going to take time. So they start with dates – breakfast at Carina’s favourite coffee shop on Jeremy Street in between the end of Maya’s shift and the start of Carina’s; lunch at Enzo’s, where Carina shares stories from her childhood in Italy; dinner at The Everest, where they reminisce about their first proper date.

It is becoming easier, there are less awkward silences and fewer lulls in their conversation. There is a little teasing and flirting sometimes, but Maya doesn’t push it any further than that and Carina needs more time before she will let those walls come down. The most intimacy they have shared is a soft kiss on the cheek before they say goodbye, sometimes lingering, taking in the scent of each other’s perfume that fills their senses with memories.

Carina drives, the large trunk of her Porsche providing the perfect spot to curl up and watch the movie. She has filled it with blankets and cushions to make it comfortable, even gone so far as to put up twinkle lights to soften the mood.

Maya is responsible for the snacks and she brings an ice box full of sodas and sparkling water, popcorn and candy – plus a selection of desserts from Little Roma, the same they enjoyed the first night they met. Too much for just the two of them, but she still gets butterflies in her stomach whenever she knows she will in Carina’s company.

“Are you comfortable?” Carina asks, plumping a cushion a little before resting her back against it.

Maya’s breath hitches in her throat as a waft of Carina’s shampoo fills her nostrils. She had bought her own bottle the day after Carina had visited the apartment for more of her belongings, the smell still one of Maya’s favourite things.

“Yeah,” she says eventually, trying to ignore the way Carina’s legs are resting against hers under the thick blanket as they stretch out in the back of her SUV.

In hindsight, maybe she shouldn’t have suggested spending the evening cosied up in such a small space. It is a little bit of torture, being so close but not being able to touch her – not in the way she would like.

“I can’t believe you convinced me to see Dirty Dancing again,” Carina laughs as the opening titles start to play and The Ronettes start to sing, the sound coming from her car stereo behind them. “How many times have you seen this movie?”

“Not enough,” Maya says with a grin, throwing a piece of popcorn into her mouth. “It’s a classic!”

“You know, I’m not sure inviting me on a date where I have to watch you swoon over Patrick Swayze is as romantic as you think it is,” Carina teases lightly.

Maya blushes. Romance – is that what she’s trying to achieve with this?

“Yeah, but it made you smile.”

Their eyes lock for a moment before Carina looks away and helps herself to a cannolo. She bites into it, the pastry cracking and leaving a smear of lemon cream on her lips. Maya watches as she licks it away with her tongue, sinking her teeth into her own bottom lip to stop herself from expressing her frustration out loud.

They fall into silence as the movie plays, watching as the story unfolds. Carina giggles like she always does at the ‘I carried a watermelon’ moment (“it’s so corny!” she always says), and watches Maya during the dancing scene.

Maya’s cheeks burn, knowing that Carina is watching her.

“Stop looking at me,” she says with a playful shove of Carina’s ribs.

Carina laughs. “I can’t help it. You always look so…” She pauses as she looks for the right word. “…smitten whenever he moves his hips. You never look as enamoured at anyone else.”

“Only when I’m looking at you.”

The words tumble out of her mouth before she realises what she is saying and Maya scrunches her face.

“Sorry, that was…”

“What?” Carina asks.

The soft tone to her voice takes Maya by surprise and she looks at her cautiously.

“Too much?”

She sees Carina shake her head. “No, bella, not too much.”

She doesn’t know who makes the first move, but before she knows it their lips are crashing against each other, the bag of popcorn falling to one side and making a mess as their hands slip under the blanket to find each other. Carina’s fingers find a gap underneath her sweater and grasp at her skin, the physical contact after so long making Maya’s body scream with delight.

The movie is forgotten, the noise around them fading as all Maya knows is Carina’s lips against hers and Carina’s hands on her body. In that moment, it is like all of the pain and anger and fear and loneliness of the last few months is gone in a flash, and all that is left is love.

Carina tastes of sugar and lemon and cola, and Maya feels her head start to spin. And then Carina’s lips are on her neck, sucking and nipping at her earlobe, and a moan escapes from Maya’s mouth.

“God, I’ve missed you,” she murmurs.

“I’ve missed you too, bella, so much,” Carina whispers in her ear, before guiding Maya’s lips back towards her own.

Suddenly, they sense a light on them as a flashlight shines into the back of the car. A security guard looks at them sternly and they break apart, waving their apology at being caught breaking the rules. Maya falls back against the cushion, breathless, as Carina drops her head onto her shoulder, slipping her hand into Maya’s and holding it close to her hips.

“That was…”

“Yeah.”

They sit in silence as they become reacquainted with the movie, neither knowing what else to say. Carina starts to laugh first, Maya joining in quickly. It feels good, like they have found a piece of them again. A piece that is easy and fun and free from hurt.

“I guess Patrick Swayze wasn’t a bad choice for a date movie after all,” Carina muses.

“Oh yeah? Well, maybe we should do this again.”

Carina lifts her head from Maya’s shoulder, her eyebrow cocked curiously. Maya grins at her.

“They’re showing Ghost next weekend.”

#station 19 #maya bishop #carina deluca #station 19 fanfiction #my fanfiction #february lyric prompt challenge #serotoninn-overflow

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limeade-l3sbian · 2 years

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Thank you for your thoughtful response, it actually made me feel a little better. I, quite obviously, wrote my ask when I was pissed. I think you’re right about the women who hold misogynistic beliefs, it is sad but there’s also limits to certain things especially when those women start calling other women disgusting porn-inspired insults (that was mostly what I had in mind when I wrote that). Maybe I’m being too harsh but I’ve been shocked, thoroughly shocked by the things I saw people say like actually I would read and my jaw would drop. And like you said you’ve had your experiences, just like I had mine on here so no my view isn’t the ultimate truth about this community but man I’m more sad than angry if I’m being honest. Terfectly is just one example but I’ve seen people call her abhorrent things just like I know she called other women the same things, she’s far from the only one. As for people being ignorant, you’re right not everything comes from racism but at some point you’re too grown to just say that you were “ignorant” but that now you “learned and are more educated”, at the end of the day ignorance is a choice too. And let’s not talk about the rampant homophobia that radblr seems super comfortable with but god forbid we call out homophobic bis (as a fellow bi, we are honestly insufferable I’m not even mad at lesbians who refuse to date bi women, more power to y’all ✊🏼) but thank you again for taking the time to answer me, I’m sorry for the energy I brought in the studio today 😂 I’m still glad to have found the community because I found 3 cool ass women. I might be back when I feel like my mental health is better, in the meantime, Im sending you so much love and light ✨✨ I hope you have a wonderful day/night :)))

You're not wrong. Much as I wish things could always be explained away, sometimes it's just the person not willing to make the effort.

And don't worry about it! LMAO 😭 Thank you for the thoughtful asks! I hope your mental health heals and sending YOU love and light x3. 💜💜

#ask

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random-yandere-fandom · 3 years

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How about yandere TC meliodas but a soulmate au where him and the s/o( Fairy and goddess hybrid who fights for stigma) both share a connection to each other, from sharing emotion, to having vision of where they may meet for the first time. This seem like a nice concept, I imagine meliodas is use to constantly feeling pain from training all the way to fighting the war only to have a s/o who is yet to meet him but is willing to send over positive emotion and feeling to make him feel better. Im sucker for this kinds of things.

Oh hell yes, I love soulmate aus! Which is why it got a bit longer than what I normally write (and took so long lol)

Yandere TC Meliodas with soulmate darling

For as long as you can remember there had been a second layer to your emotions that you couldn`t quite grasp, let alone influence. It was just barely there, almost unnoticeable. Annoyance, nonchalance and a deep-rooted but hidden pain. After learning that those belonged to your soulmate, to the being your were destined to meet and love, you were baffled. Three emotions. A few feelings. Was that all they were capable of, or was that all they could allow themselves to? You mused that they felt your surprise and pity and hoped they wouldn`t connect the dots, they didn`t seem like the kind of person to appreciate such sentiments. Nonetheless you wanted to help. If they weren`t able to and didn`t have the opportunity to experience joy, wonder, excitement and a healthy amount of sadness and grief that one felt at ending a wonderful book with no continuation than you would have to do it for them. If they were hurt you could send them comfort and if they were bored you`d jump down a cliff if you must only to open your wings at the last second to send them a dose of mixed excitement and fear and laughter.

Meliodas had known of the concept of soulmates for as long as he could remember. Since then he had always been told that he wouldn`t need them, that demons barely needed their destined partner and only to allow any connection beyond the unavoidable should they be of the same race. He knew that something was wrong with that but in the end he didn`t care enough to do anything about that. So they felt what he did and at some point he`d know where you two would meet. Great. As long as they don`t get in his way and he can do what he must it`d be fine.

He always knew that his range of sentiments were by far not the widest or the happiest but he would do. Meliodas had to. He had to be strong and cold and unfeeling. That did not seem to be the case for his soulmate, however. There were a mix of emotions constantly changing, most of them he hadn`t even experienced himself. They are a bother, he told himself and ignored it. He also ignored the twinge in his chest whenever they felt sad, ashamed or dispirited. Told himself that he was lucky that they weren`t sending feelings consciously, especially when he had to concentrate.

That changed. There was no warning, no prompting, nothing. Meliodas was about to go to sleep when they did it for the first time. They must have felt his exhaustion and either they thought he didn`t deserve to rest or wanted to spite him because the next thing he knew he felt adrenaline coursing through his veins and excitement erupting. Cursing he sat up, trying to calm his racing hearts and suppress that stuff. The emotions promptly calmed down and went into their normal, ignorable state though he could make out some guilt. For good measure he made his annoyance clear before flopping back down and closing his eyes. That didn`t stop a small and rather short lived smile from surfacing.

Was it your best idea? No. Did you think about what you were doing? No. You had felt your soulmate`s fatigue and seeing as it was the afternoon and they didn`t normally feel like that at this certain time you had assumed that they needed a bit of energy. Luckily, you had been sitting on a rather high branch and before you could think it through you had thrown yourself of from it. Upon their rejection though you had quickly stopped your little stunt and the idea that they had wanted to sleep crossed your mind. Ups. This had been the first time you had enforced an emotion and it had gone wrong. Hoping that their first impression of you could still be fixed you laid low for a bit.

The next opportunity presented itself when you had discovered a beautiful small pond in the forest. It was surrounded by rich plant live and some ducks were swimming on it, the sunshine reflected and sparkled on the water’s surface. Deciding that now would be a good opportunity you checked on their emotions. There was no apparent change from normal so it should be fine. Carefully and a lot slower this time you let your admiration seep through to them and being encouraged by the response, which was nothing, you strengthened it, letting yourself enjoy the coolness of the water as you dipped your feet in. Sitting there you shared this feeling, the contrast of the warm light and the refreshing cold, the calmness of the forest, far away from the others and the silence only being broke by the wind and birds in the sky. With all the work you had been doing and the tense atmosphere of your partner the relaxation was welcomed with open arms.

After this first successful interaction you continued, first about once a week and then once a day and soon simply whenever you felt like it. You were a bit disappointed that your soulmate never openly reacted but you had noticed that their feelings had calmed down and that was enough to keep you going. Having long ago realised that they were fighting in the same war, the suspicion and caution mixed with the occasional numbness, you assumed that they numbed their feelings in hopes of suppressing regret, you sent as much comfort as you could. It was gut wrenching whenever you noticed the impassivity but you did your best to help.

Meliodas grew used to it, over time. He even grew to like it, not that he`d ever admit it. Sensing your enforced emotions brought him joy and comfort, knowing that there was someone out there who cared. He sometimes felt guilty about not replying but what did he have to share? So he let the one sided communication continue.

You always made sure to only strengthen positive emotions or small harmless sadness, just to let them know what you were feeling. This time however you feared that you had made a mistake. You were patrolling and you were careless. It was close to enemy territory but there hadn`t been an incident here and there was this beautiful flower in full bloom and you simply had to send your amazement. Doing just that you hovered over the flower, it`s sweet smell calming your mind. The next thing you knew was a sharp pain in your side as you moved away, away from whatever had slashed you.

It was a small demon and you were quickly able to take care of it before healing your wound. Before you could investigate if there were any others you felt their worry. It was overwhelming. For the first time they openly enforced their feelings and it was intense enough that you couldn`t breathe for a moment. You noticed some anger interlaced, too, directed at what had harmed you, you noted. Quickly sending them your calmed frame of mind you searched for any other attackers and upon finding none you returned to report to one of the other goddesses.

Meliodas had been walking down a lonely hallway when you noticed the flower. Humming in acknowledgement he opened the door to his room and froze. Instead of admiration you seemed to be in pain. What had happened? Were you okay? His mind raced as he allowed himself to worry and let that worry reach you. The seconds were he felt your pain, surprise, resignation and caution were agony. After he was assured you were fine he sighed in relief.

After the second time the demon decided that he should contact you more. After his initial worry had subsided he had become anxious. Not only could you be harmed at any time, he had no way of helping you, not without knowing who or where you were. He realised he didn`t know much of you. Was there someone who liked you beside him, someone you liked? He hoped not. You were his. You two were fated to be, no matter how stupid that sounded. However he had no real way of checking, so interacting with you like this had to be enough for now. He also grew more attentive of your passive emotions, not letting a single feeling pass his attention.

It is a well known fact that before you meet your destined other, you envision the place you will first meet. You had been waiting for that day for ages, knowing that soon after you`d finally meet them, your soulmate. They had been so much more communicative and their joy caused by interactions grew day by day. So when you opened your eyes in a supposedly dream and felt closer to them than ever before you knew that your encounter was drawing near.

The first thing you noticed were your surroundings which resembled a patch of woods just on the border to demon territory. It was cold and clouds hung deep over the sky, it was eerily silent. Not the most romantic, you decided, but whatever. Taking a closer look you noticed a figure approaching from the woods, across from you and the border. It was more of a shadow than anything, you could make out the rather small height but any other details didn`t quite seem to be comprehensive or noticeable. So this was them. You smiled, though you could guess that they wouldn`t see that with how they most likely perceived you in a similar way that you could view them. No words were spoken as you stood only meters apart, time seemingly frozen as all you could do was hope that you could stay like this for longer. Neither they nor you moved, fearing that otherwise the bubble would burst and the glass would shatter and you would wake up, more lonely than ever now that you were apart again. You couldn`t speak, somehow knowing that sounds would not travel far here, but you didn`t need to do that, as all you needed was your connection and bond as soulmates. Warmth, affection and joy swirled between you both and almost felt tangible, as if all you needed to do was reach out to drown in these emotions.

When Meliodas found himself in a dream more realistic than any other he wondered what had happened. He wandered a bit before recognising the forest to be the one crossing the border that Stigma established and vehemently defended. Feeling a presence he followed the strange pull, coming across the figure hidden in shadows with wings that couldn`t have been a fairy`s or a goddess`s. Something else or something in between? He didn`t care. All that mattered was the sense of recognition. It was you. His partner. His destined other. His soulmate. His.

Only after waking up did he realise where exactly you both would meet. The verge on which enemies would meet to battle. Where blood was spilled in the constantly ongoing war. The perimeter seemed in tact though, so you at least wouldn`t meet directly on a battlefield. One thing he did know now, however. You stood on opposing sides, Demons against Stigma, darkness against light, him versus you. How cruel to put you so far away from him, Meliodas mused. But if he had to he knew who to betray and who to stay loyal to.

You spend the next days searching for the exact place you two would meet, ignoring the suspicious stares and whispers about, oh, look, the hybrid is slacking of, no wonder. You wondered how they`d react to your soulmate who was undeniably on the opposite force of the conflict. You supposed one of you would have to switch sides and if you couldn`t convince them than you would have to do so. Though with how they ended up emotionally before you interacted you hoped they would agree with you. Even if the others were against it, the higher ups respected your hard work and if that didn`t work you`d ask Elizabeth, who always seemed hesitant about the war and disliked judging others no matter who they were, for help.

Either way, you thought, being prepared wouldn`t hurt. After finally finding the place you hid a small bag full of important belongings and necessities in the trunk of the hollow tree along with a small gift you hoped your soulmate would appreciate. Following the thickening of your bond you had started to feel other and smaller sensations of them and while you were quite distressed with how often they seemed to fight, you couldn`t deny the feeling of joy when you drank a wine and instantly knew that they liked it, having had a faint taste of it. Hoping that this time you could enjoy it together you made sure the bottle was secure before heading of again.

Every time the weather was like the one in your vision, your and their hope grew and while you reached the place in no time, having memorised the way, they still hadn’t found it. Meliodas wished to fly over the forest but he had seen himself walking and knew that was the only way to get to you. So he wandered around, over and over and when he finally recognised a turn he followed the path eagerly. It took a bit to notice your presence, it being hidden seeing as anything else would be suicide so close to a hostile region. He rushed through the trees, his and yours excitement mixing and growing as you waited, peering through the woods in hopes of catching a glimpse, the first glimpse of the person you had grown to love.

The wind, his hearts and time itself stopped as he came to a halt in front of you. Your eyes were the first things he noticed, shining with a light that warmed him, overflowing with affection. You stared just as much, his black eyes turning into a beautiful shade of green as he lowered himself to the ground, his black wings disappearing from sight. You did the same, letting your feet touch the earth below you before moving one in front of the other. The grin on your face widened as he did the same and before you knew it he wrapped his arms around you.

“Hello“, you whispered. All former thoughts and ideas on your first words spoken to him seeming too far away to speak now, all you could do was great him. He was so warm, his arms protectively shielding you away from a world that was to cruel to a wonderful being like you, he decided, as he responded in the same manner. His hearts were finally beating again and were much faster now.

“My name is Meliodas“, he added, chin comfortably resting on your shoulders, eyes closed and melting into your embrace. It felt so right to finally have you. You fitted perfectly into his grasp, his eyes fluttering open and a smile tugging on his lips as he heard your name. You were finally here, with him. Meliodas knew in this moment he could never let you go. He would follow you wherever you wanted to and destroy anyone that dared and try harm you, no matter the consequences, as long as he could be with you, the one who cared and comforted him, the one that was made for him and the one he was made for, his soulmate.

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soulofarat · 4 years

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eating disorders need to be handled differently. Im going off, sorry in advance.

In high school, i was sat down with the rest of my health class, instructed by our gym teacher. This is where i had my “education” about eating disorders, though i was dealing with one secretly.

He talked about them as if they were a crime. He told us how to know if someone has an ed (they’ll wear baggy dark clothing, they’ll avoid food), and to tell on them. He told us it’s for women only. We made jokes about it. We had to watch a terribly inaccurate movie portraying eating disorders.

This movie was full of tips on how to hide an ed that i remember 7 years later. He must not have interpreted it that way.

I learned to be a better liar and i learned that people will hate me and pity me and find me revolting and call me ignorant and force feed me with a tube in a hospital if they ever found out.

So i kept quiet.

When i was 16 and my family found out i was purging, they sat me down intervention style and SCREAMED at me. My uncle, my aunt, and my grandmother all sat at a table and yelled at me about my biggest secret. They called me gross, immature, and compared me to my birth mother who struggled with the same thing.

They made me feel some of the most intense shame i’d ever felt. I felt stripped naked.

They took away my coping mechanisms (internet, tumblr account, certain TV shows, scale). They didn’t allow me to heal by choice or leave my coping mechanisms behind on my own because they thought my ed was a silly girl thing that I could quit whenever. But it wasn’t ever that simple.

Without my coping mechanisms, I turned to self harming.

To this day, the memory makes me shudder and reminds me to distrust them. They handled it horribly.

PEOPLE NEED TO STOP HANDLING THIS HORRIBLY. NOW.

The only thing that ended up helping was when i was forced to go to therapy. I was resistant at first. But my therapist was educated on the topic, took me seriously, and helped me handle my ed safely to slowly and comfortably to recover rather than shame me to shreds so i could stop being a nuisance.

Recovering took YEARS. It was not a simple decision like everyone told me it should be. But even with my current relapse, I know how to be safe about this and how to avoid hurting myself.

Here’s what i wished they told me in high school.

Eating disorders are treatable. You are not too far gone to try to get better.

Someones weight is not an indicator of whether or not they have an eating disorder. Anyone, regardless of size or shape or weight, can be dealing with an ed.

NEVER lower your goal weight.

Eating disorders will manipulate you. They are not funny, they are not cute, they are not just for girls: they can affect anyone and they want to hurt you. Eating disorders are not your friend, even though it will sometimes feel like it.

Bottom line: at the end of the day, there aren’t many endings to this aside from recovery or death.

Eating disorders can stem from other problems in a person’s life possibly regarding a lack of control, mental health issues, or other personal struggles that aren’t really centered around the way one looks. It is putting one “controllable” thing (your body) into your own hands and making it the center of your life so that the other uncontrollable problems don’t take up as much space in your head.

In other words, an eating disorder is typically a SYMPTOM of something else. Trying to “fix” someone by focusing on the eating disorder alone can just make the person turn to something else to cope (alcohol, drugs, impulsive buying, sex, anything addictive.) I turned to self harming.

Focusing on the ED alone is the equivalent of pulling weeds out, but leaving the roots.

You don’t have to drop your ED all at once! It can be slow. You may have relapses. But you can do it at a comfortable pace. As long as you recognize that you have to try eventually.

Having an eating disorder shouldn’t be such a shameful thing. No wonder people rarely try to get help on their own when it’s framed as a joke or when people can handle it so horribly.

It needs to stop.

We need knowledgeable people in schools teaching students these things so we can create more understanding eventual adults and overall, a less stigmatized culture.

#long post #eating disoder things #ana #mia #not pro just using tags #pro ana #pro mia #safe ana #be safe #recovery #ana recovery #mia recovery #my posts #trauma #death mention #eating disorder #binge eating disorder #binge #ed

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gobblewanker · 3 years

Text

Well. Guess who had some late night Emotions™ and wrote another drabble on that "Sherman adopts Stan and Ford when they're eight because Filbrick is the worst" story?

The room at Sherman's apartment was smaller than the one at their parents place had been. It was cramped, the singular window was poorly insulated, and the wallpaper was flaking. Almost everything in it was second hand - deeply cherished childhood toys picked up from garage sales piled in a corner, a banged up desk Sherman's college was going to throw out anyways nestled under the drafty window, an old space heater Ford had to repair nearly every winter puttering away snugly next to the drawer with it's missing handle. Everything was old and worn, but in a good, reassuring, way. Like a pair of well used shoes, slowly adjusted to it's wearer's feet and fitting far more comfortably than a new pair ever could. As far as Ford was concerned, it was infinitely more a home than the pawnshop had ever been.

Maybe that made sense though. He'd soon spent half his life there. The latter part. The better one. The one spent living in a shoddy apartment which's walls nonetheless practically oozed with love and family. The one without dad looming large like some invisible but always precent danger. The one with memories permeated by safety and stability.

Ford knew much of that stability was a carefully crafted façade, propped up on his big brother's shoulders. He'd caught on to it long before Stan, but in retrospect it was obvious. The way Sherman would skip meals so they never had to, the way he always seemed to be working overtime, all of it. It wasn't a stable situation at all. But he'd made it feel that was. Always made it seem like there was nothing to worry about. Ford and Stan had tried to help out wherever they could, doing chores when there were any and otherwise just being good and staying out of the way. It had taken a long time for the permanence of the situation to sink in. For the realization to hit that they wouldn't get sent back. That no matter what they did, Shermie wouldn't get fed up with them and cart them back to Pa.

But what if it wouldn't be up to him?

"Hey, Stan?" Ford whispered into the quiet of the dark. From the bunk under him, he heard a low grunt of affirmation.

"Yeah?" There was no trace of drowsiness in Stan's voice.

"I can't sleep."

"Tell me about it."

Ford dropped his arm over the side of the bed, letting it dangle. It didn't take more than a few seconds for Stan's hand to find it. Five fingers intertwining with six. An old gesture of reassurance. Quiet and secret, Pa wasn't big on sentimentality. That stuff was for women and crybabies. The secrecy wasn't a necessity anymore, Sherman didn't mind, but the gesture had carried them through long enough to become ingrained.

"I'm scared." Ford said. The confession came with ease. Just one of the millions that had been dispersed into the darkened bedroom over the years. Half a childhood spent.

"Me too." Stan's voice answered, drifting up from below. "Ya thinking about the war?"

Ford nodded into his pillow, before remembering Stan couldn't see him. "Yeah."

Silence descended on the room like a blanket again. Soft, but very palpable and almost suffocating.

It had been a perfectly normal day at first. When they woke up that morning, everything had been just fine. Perfectly average. You never really appreciate 'avrage' until it's threatened.

There'd been recruiters at their school, talking to the older students about war and enlistment and other things Ford wanted nothing to do with. It was something he was going to ignore. It didn't concern him. He and Stan were both too young. He'd felt a strange sense of almost invulnerability at that. So he'd just kept walking. He'd gotten caught up in an interesting discussion with his physics teacher at the end of the lesson, and was far more concerned with the fact that he was running late to meet up with Stan for lunch. But then it'd hit him with the same speed and ferocity as an oncoming freight train that while he and Stan might be in the clear, that same certainty was in no way extended to Sherman.

The closest thing to a parent they had, and an uncaring universe had just added his name to some nebulous lottery where being picked would spell tragedy.

Sherman was security, and now he might be ripped away.

Suffice to say, they hadn't gone to get food after that. Instead, the entire lunch period had been spent locked up in a bathroom stall, Stan trying his best to talk Ford down from the ensuing panic attack without becoming overwrought himself.

"What do we do, Stan?" Ford's voice was low and miserable. He'd managed to pull himself together for the entire evening, not wanting to worry Sherman. But problems always seemed much bigger in the dark, and this one was insurmountable enough in daylight.

"I donno." Stan said. "Do ya wanna go talk with 'im?"

"I don't know."

Ford went quiet again, just listening to the rumbling heater and the odd car passing by outside. If there was one thing he missed about their old room, it was the sound of the ocean. A busy road was no substitute for calming waves.

Did he want to go talk to Sherman? Yes. The sense of comfort he usually got - both of them usually got - from doing that was so deep rooted it was only surpassed by the comfort they could find in eachother. But this was about Sherman, so venting their fears with him might help. He never got upset at them for doing so, not for being 'sissies' or for keeping him up when he had work in the morning or for bothering him. The fact that they could go wake him up if they needed it was another one of those truths that had taken a long time to sink in. But after a bad bout of the flu had almost escalated to hospitalisation for both of them because they wouldn't tell Sherman they weren't feeling well they'd sat down and had a very long chat about the importance of communication. It still felt like night and day compared to Pa.

"I guess I want to go talk to him. But it feels stupid."

"You know he wouldn't see it like that." Stan's hand squeezed Ford's comfortingly.

"I know. But..."

But what? Ford wasn't sure how to articulate the issue. Not even to himself really. He wanted to go and ask for reassurance, he wanted that familiar comfort. The one that made him think of sitting up late at night being hugged and reassured through childhood stomach aches and emotional breakdowns over bullies. That strange paradoxical feeling of a miserable situation made almost... Cozy? None of those situations were ever good. The things that facilitated them hurt. But that hurt facilitated closeness and safety, and those emotions were always the ones that remained. They were good memories tinged with something bad. Or maybe bad memories overwhelmed by something good?

So yes. He wanted that. He wanted to make a good memory out of this hurt.

But that felt selfish.

The situation was horrible. Horrible to the point where trying to make something good, however miniscule, come out of it almost felt like it'd be disrespectful. Making light of something that should stay dark. That should hurt, and only hurt.

"Ford? Ya still awake?"

Ford breathed shakily through his nose. Trying to stop his voice from wavering the way he just knew it would.

"I want to go talk to him. But it feels wrong."

"Why?"

"I don't know how to- I don't-" Ford paused, focusing on breathing again. Intellectually, he knew he didn't have the keep the emotions tapped down. Another lesson Sherman had worked hard to drill into them. It was okay to cry and dad was an asshole for demanding they don't. But he still didn't want to. It still felt somehow weak. Shameful. "I want to go, I want to make it feel better, but I also don't want to make it feel better because it hurts and it should. It should hurt. It's awful."

Stan remained quiet for another few seconds. Usually he had no qualms about blurting out whatever came to his mind, but maybe this situation required more thought.

"Let me get this straight... The reason you don't want to go and talk to Shermie is because ya want to be upset?"

Ford didn't know if that was it or not. He couldn't make heads or tails of his own emotions. They felt huge and overwhelming, too big to fit inside him but also too big to unravel and understand. Like a nest of gigantic snakes all tangled up in eachother, chaotic and confused, hissing and biting itself.

"It's bad. It's so bad that trying to make it good feels wrong." He didn't know if that was it either.

Stan let go of his hand, and Ford instantly mourned the loss of contact. Comfort? Wasn't comfort what he didn't want? He was so confused, he just wanted everything to make sense. He lifted the corner of his t-shirt to wipe at his stinging eyes as Stan's face appeared over the side of the bed.

"Ford... Look, it's okay to let things hurt, but it's also okay to make them hurt less." Stan looked at him intensely. Ford felt himself becoming even more choked up at the scrutiny. "No, seriously. It's like... Like breaking a leg, right? Remember that time in fourth grade when you did that?"

Ford nodded, slightly unsure what this had to do with anything.

"It hurt, and it's okay that it hurt. It made sense that it hurt, and you don't pretend like it doesn't. But just because it makes sense that it hurts doesn't mean it was bad that you got painkillers and a cast. Without that junk it wouldn't have healed right."

That... He supposed that might be a valid analogy. Maybe Stan had a point.

"So... You think we should go?"

"Are you going to feel any better if we don't?"

Ford considered for a moment, still warring with the conflicting emotions twisting his stomach all up in knots. But he thought maybe it was slightly less. Shaking his head, he excavated himself from the nest of blankets and clambered down the ladder. Moving through the darkened apartment and arriving to knock at their brother's door as they'd done so many times before.

In the end, it did help. Sitting huddled together on the bed in the dark until the sun began to rise and the fear crept away with the shadows. Until it felt safe enough to fall asleep, secure in the knowledge that everyone would still be there come morning. The situation was large and looming and firmly out of their control. That much didn't change. They couldn't decide how things would end, but they could decide how they would cope. And they would cope.

Together.

#gravity falls #stanford pines #stanley pines #sherman pines #fanfic #not art #tw vietnam war #this is pretty much me trying to make sense of my own emotions by writing #so sorry if it's a bit stream-of-conciousness-ish #shermie adoption au

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gamerwoo · 3 years

Text

[Tales from the Pack] Joshua: Second Chance (Part One)

Characters: Joshua x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, angst, possible character death, a little bit of fluff but it’s like angsty fluff

Word count: 1,837

Summary: After his mate died, Joshua always blamed himself and never wanted to imprint again. However, fate has other ideas when he meets you: a young, energetic werecoyote that’s quite the opposite of him. He insists he doesn’t want a new mate – nobody’s even sure if he’s ready for a new one – but he can’t ignore his instincts.

Next | Second Chance Masterlist

a/n: things in bold are in english. BUT MOST IMPORTANTLY!!!! hi i know everyone has been awaiting this series from tftp in particular. and while i wish i could say im updating this regularly,,,,,i cannot. there’s no definite update schedule, im just doing it when i can. i wanted to wait until i had all the parts written but im impatient. but i hope you’ll enjoy this series even with the slow updates, and i hope it lives up to expectations 💜

“Where’re we going?” Joshua grumbled as he followed slightly behind Hansol and Kyung, the younger boy’s hand wrapped around hers.

Joshua was going with them to the doctor without actually knowing. Kyung knew better than to tell him before they left because she figured the grumpy werewolf would just tell her no, not really caring whether he was unable to heal or not -- even though that was very clearly a bad sign that he had overexerted himself.

Kyung thought maybe Joshua would be a little less...angry all the time once she got to know him, but Joshua was stubborn well before he’d even met her -- he was just bad at shoving his stubbornness and anger down.

“I promised I’d get my back fixed if Kyung decided to stay, and you said you’d go if I went, didn’t you?” Hansol reminded his brother with a smirk over his shoulder. “We’re gonna go see that doctor we were told about. What was her name again?”

“Minjee,” Kyung replied. “Not to sound rude but...Josh, why don’t you want to see a doctor?”

“I don’t really care if I can heal or not either way,” he replied flatly, “but I said I’d get help if Hansol did. So...here we are.”

“Here we are...” she repeated in a mumble.

Joshua simply followed the mated couple in silence as the alpha led them to Minjee’s, being the first to knock on the door. It was a girl -- as expected -- that opened the door, bowing politely to the group before smiling brightly at the darker skinned girl in front of them.

“Kyung!” she exclaimed as she gestured the three of them in. “I haven’t seen you in so long -- I suppose that’s a good thing, though. How’ve you been? Your pack hasn’t mentioned you.”

“I’m not actually in that pack anymore,” Kyung told her with a shrug, her ‘cool’ exterior coming back in the presence of an old friend. “I’m an alpha of my mate’s pack now.”

Minjee seemed impressed, eyebrows raising with a smile, “Wow, look at you. How’d the sudden change happen? Jiung must be proud.”

“He’s actually...passed away.”

The doctor’s face fell, placing a comforting hand on your upper arm, “I’m sorry for the loss of your brother.”

Kyung nodded, “I’ve been grieving, but it’s been easier with my mate. Minjee, this is Hansol, and his brother -- er, our brother, I guess -- Joshua.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Hansol said as he nodded to her. “Our brother, Soonyoung came in before with a human girl to talk about fixing us -- I’ve got silver burned into my back, and Joshua’s the healer that can’t heal anymore.”

“Ah, yes, the healer!” Minjee’s eyes lit up as she nodded excitedly. She looked to Joshua now. “Your power still hasn’t come back?”

“No,” he replied. “I thought just resting would help but...nothing.”

“I see,” she hummed, eyeing him over before looking back at Kyung like she was their mother that took them to the doctor’s office. “I’ll do a quick look over and then see what I can do. It’s almost time for me to close up, and I have to go out of town for a few days. I won’t be able to do anything until about a week from now, but they’ll be fine until then if they’ve been fine this long.”

“That’s okay,” Hansol shrugged as Joshua replied, “No worries.”

“Alright,” Minjee breathed with a warm smile, grabbing some gloves from nearby, “then let’s get started and see what’s going on.”

Even though you were never careful, you wanted to blame this on shitty luck. You were too carefree and excitable, so you ran and ran and didn’t see the trap. So with you trapped under a net with little prickles that you were sure were laced with wolfsbane from how fucking awful you felt -- that was an understatement -- all you could do was wait for hunters to come find you before death took you itself. Honestly, you hoped the latter would come first.

You faintly heard footsteps coming toward you as your vision went out of focus, your eyelids becoming too heavy to keep up. You sensed a presence beside you, the body crouching down to get a better look at you.

“What do we have here?” a female-sounding voice asked, but it sounded far away and muffled to you. “Is this another werewolf?”

“I can’t tell,” another female voice replied in a sigh. “Sura, do you have any ideas?”

“Doesn’t smell like werewolf to me,” a male voice said. “It definitely is some kind of were-creature, though. This thing wreaks of wolfsbane and it’s clearly affecting her. I’d say...coyote, maybe?”

One of the women sucked in a breath between their teeth before saying, “Prajya, help me get this net off of her -- it’ll be heavy but I’m afraid to let Sura touch it.”

Slowly, you felt the weight of the net being lifted off of you. You could also feel every little barb stuck in you being pulled out, and you whimpered softly from the stinging pain that covered your body.

“Minjee, will she make it?” the second girl asked as you were lifted into warm arms.

“No,” the male replied, “probably not.”

“The house isn’t far from here,” the first girl insisted. “We just have to hurry.”

But you were out cold before they even took the first step.

Josh and Hansol weren’t really sure why so many people wanted to go with them into town that night for them to finally get fixed. Suvi was understandable since she just enjoyed going into town, and Soomin made sense since she was basically their resident know-it-all when it came to werewolves. However, Wonwoo wanting to tag along was weird because Wonwoo didn’t like leaving the house, much less going into town. They figured maybe it was because he wanted to make sure Soomin would be alright, but she was already going to be with two werewolves and a girl who had gone into town plenty of times. She was in good hands, but whatever made Wonwoo happy.

“Are you nervous?” Suvi wondered, looking up between Hansol and Joshua as she walked.

“I don’t know how they’re going to fix my back, so that’s a little concerning,” Hansol decided, “but I’m more excited.”

Joshua just shrugged, “Eh, not really.”

“Try not to be so excited, huh,” Wonwoo commented.

Joshua did like his power. He liked that he was able to help people with it. However, it didn’t benefit him -- as in, it didn’t make his own personal healing any better than anybody else’s in the pack -- and it wouldn’t be needed if his pack wasn’t so stupid and got themselves hurt. It wasn’t fun like Seokmin’s or Chan’s or Kyung’s, and it wasn’t interesting like Jihoon’s or Soonyoung’s or Hansol’s or Minghao’s. It was boring -- kind of like Wonwoo’s or Seungcheol’s.

Suvi was the first up to the door, knocking before she took a step back to wait. The door was answered by Minjee -- as always -- who greeted them with an almost pained smile.

“Hello,” she greeted them. “Before you come in, I’d like to apologize. My partners and I have just gotten home, and one of our patients... Well, she won’t make it.”

Now that she’d mentioned it, the wolves could just barely hear the faint, slowing heartbeat from inside the house. But they could also smell that it wasn’t the typical werewolf. It was something they’d never smelled before, but it still wasn’t completely human.

Joshua also picked up on a scent that was very familiar but also so very different from anything he’d smelled before.

“We’re just trying to ease her pain until she passes,” Minjee continued, letting the small group into the house. She turned to look at somebody else who was helping with the aforementioned girl. “Sura, could you put a curtain up around her? Prajya, I’ll need you to help me with--”

Minjee stopped when she noticed Joshua stop in the doorway, his body going rigid. His golden eyes were spotting red and locked on you, hands balled into fists.

You were dying; his mate was dying. Again.

“Josh...?” Wonwoo spoke up, placing a hand on the older boy’s shoulder.

Joshua’s thoughts and opinions on re-imprinting were out the window when it registered that the girl quickly losing her life was his mate. The only thing he could focus on was you and saving you -- but he only knew one way how.

“She’s not dying,” he stated, walking straight through the small crowd and over to you where your pulse was just a moment away from completely dying out.

“What?” Minjee asked, watching him as he approached you with a set jaw and narrowed eyes.

“I’m not going to let her die,” he said louder, letting his hands hover above your body.

Joshua was too focused on trying to somehow get his powers to come back to him that he wasn’t paying any attention to Hansol and Wonwoo’s conversation over their surprise of their brother imprinting for a second time. Truthfully, nobody thought anybody would come after Lilly since Josh was so against it. But then again, imprinting wasn’t something any werewolf could control.

Joshua mumbled to himself as he tried to will his power back. He was concentrating so hard but nothing was happening. No faint glow from his palms, no color coming back to your face, and your heartbeat was still rapidly decreasing by the second. It wouldn’t be long until it was gone all together, and then there would be nothing he could do.

“C’mon...c’mon...” he grumbled, closing his eyes as his eyebrows creased together in concentration.

“Your powers won’t suddenly work,” Minjee spoke up, watching from where she stood by his pack, wanting to give the werewolf space -- especially since she was preparing for him to be grieving for the mate he’d lose before actually having her.

“They have to!” he snapped.

He refused to lose you. If he lost two mates -- even if he didn’t properly meet or know you -- he was sure he wouldn’t be able to take it.

With his last bit of energy he had in his body, his palms faintly glowed to life, spreading a tingling warmth across your body. His healing power was starting to cleanse the wolfsbane from your system, and your heartbeat was starting to become stronger and more stable. Hearing your heartbeat louder in his ears made Josh want to cry. But he didn’t have the energy for it.

As you let out a cough and a girl with brown skin rushed over to sit you up so you could empty your system, Joshua collapsed onto the floor, knowing you were alive and would hopefully stay alive. He put his everything into saving you, and he didn’t know if that would kill him, but he knew it was worth it.

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ali-kitkat · 3 years

Text

Strangeness and Charm

MGI 2021 One-Year Anniversary Gift Exchange

hello, im back for a little post for @khneltea you are the recipient for enemies to lovers and by gods i hope you like this! romantic, or well its implied, daminette enemies to lovers! also tagging @issaxcharlie as per requested in the server!

fic is under the cut!

Marinette understood that the bat team was sent to Paris to help her; now that it was just herself against Papillon, but she really wanted to kick Robin’s teeth in. She couldn’t stand him. He was a self-centered, entitled, little shit. How dare he come into her city and tell her how to do her job?

The akuma attacks had been sporadic since she had revoked Chat Noir’s miraculous and the only attack that had occurred since Robin and the rest of the bats had arrived was Mister Pigeon. However, if she was being honest with herself that hardly counted as an attack in her or anyone’s books anymore.

It took all of her self control to not throttle him on the rooftop, after she had cast the miraculous cure, when he said “If this is what qualifies as an attack for you, I would hate to see how you would fare against even one of Gotham’s villains.” She was livid, he had based his opinions on akuma attacks by one attack and one attack only.

He had only been in Paris for a week and this is how he treated her, because of one little flare up by their resident akuma magnet? He had no idea what even counted as an attack in Paris nowadays.

Mister Pigeon? Definitely not.

Siren? Absolutely.

Due to him being close to her in age, she had constantly paired up with him during her nightly patrols and she hated it. She wondered if this was his team's way of trying to get him to socialize or work on his people skills. If so, they were doing an absolutely shit job of it.

At this point she really had debated whether or not being on Batman’s shit list would be worth dangling Robin from the Eiffel Tower by his ankles. She could do it. She knows she could, she had done it before in fact, to Chat before she took his miraculous away from him. In the end, she decided that it wouldn’t be worth the trouble it would cause her; but if she did accidentally hit him with her yo-yo while patrolling with him that night, no one would be the wiser.

She elected to ignore the muttered curses and detoured from her usual route in an attempt to get away from the miserable bastard. Of course, Robin then scolded her for running away and being an inferior hero. At that point she decided to put even more distance between them, only to prevent herself from injuring a potential ally. If he could even be called that with his constant berating and demeanor.

It was then that she heard a scream, an akuma. Kwami, she hoped it wasn’t Sandboy again, especially since his usual appearances were during the night.

She cast a quick glance at Robin and decided to leave him be. She took off in the direction of the scream, he was preoccupied by something on his gauntlet, if the blue light it was emitting was an indicator. Besides she had been fighting akumas for years now, the last thing she needed was Robin’s attitude and chiding rather than his help.

He didn’t need to see her nightmares either if it was in fact Sandboy who was akumatized as well. Sure, she wasn’t exactly the same thirteen year old girl she was when she first started battling akumas but Robin certainly didn’t need any more ammunition to use against her.

He didn’t need to see that her nightmares were of herself, whispering in her ear, telling her to give up. That she was a failure, that she should just let Papillon have the miraculous. It would all be over, it wasn’t like she would remember that she was Ladybug anyways. Whatever wish he would make would erase the current timeline out of existence. She hated seeing it.

When she touched down on the street, the first thing she noticed was that it was empty. There was no sign of any akuma, no destruction or frozen bodies. There wasn’t anything, it was too empty, as if the people had just up and disappeared. It was incredibly unnerving.

Casting another look around, she saw something dart into the shadows of an alleyway. She jumped to a neighboring rooftop and looked down. There it was, the akuma. They didn’t look like anything special, no obnoxious colours or outrageous outfits. Just someone in a simple, sleek suit in muted colours, their hair tied back in a dark braid and a drooping butterfly mask that looked like ruined eyeliner.

They looked up and made eye contact. She flung herself back on the rooftop. The akuma’s eyes looked empty, there was no emotion or life in them. It was disconcerting.

She looked back down into the alleyway to try to get another read on the akuma. They were gone. She rose to her feet and looked around again, just in case she missed something.

“Well, well, well. Look at what we have here,” a low, gravelly voice called out. It sounded as if they had gargled glass. Marinette quickly turned around to see the akuma at the other end of the rooftop. “A little ladybug all alone. Let us see what kind of memories you hold, heroine.”

Then suddenly the akuma was in front of her, arm outstretched and their hand was pressed against her forehead. She watched as her memories played out in real time before her and the akuma. She watched as her memories played side by side, all at once. It was headache inducing.

Marinette saw the first friend she made in almost a decade. She saw Lila threaten her and her friendships. She saw the day she had met Tikki, and the day she had received guardianship of the miracle box from Fu. She watched as flashes of her homelife flashed by, the few happy memories of her parents before the bakery’s popularity increased, before they began to neglect her. Before Lila’s honeyed words ruined what little she had left of them.

She watched as memories of previous akuma attacks played out. Of how Chat Noir acted away from the crowds and cameras, how treated her like an object to be won rather than a person. She watched as she had scrubbed herself raw in the shower after he had touched her, as she scrubbed her teeth after he forced a kiss on her.

She watched as the attacks ended and her reunions with her friends had turned into screaming fits. The shouts of how she was flakey and that if she was just going to hang out with them only to ditch them halfway through their time together that they were no longer going to be friends anymore, that they were better off without her. She watched as Lila smiled from across the room, where she comforted her former friend. As Lila’s promises came to fruition.

She watched as her nightmares flashed by just as quick of her looking in the mirror, looking at the scars that the miraculous cure hadn’t healed. As her reflection had started to speak. That she should give up, let Papillon have the miraculous. That she wasn’t worth it, that she was all alone. As the whispered words of her former friends had joined in. She watched as images of Chat had appeared telling her that she was his and no one else’s.

She watched as she was left to pick up the pieces of her life.

Suddenly she was wrenched back and someone was holding her against their person. She could see one of the bat-themed vigilantes fighting against the akuma, it looked to be Red Hood with the way the streetlight was glinting off his helmet. She could hear herself breathing heavily and could feel the tears streaming down her face as she was swung away from the akuma.

When the person holding her landed on a different rooftop, she wrenched herself out of their arms. She hit the rooftop with a thud and scrambled as far away from them as she could possibly get; then she buried her face in her knees. She covered her ears with her hands, hoping to block out the unrelenting images of her memories and nightmares. She didn’t want to see or hear anything. She certainly didn’t want to see anyone’s pitying looks or hear their scorn. She just wanted to forget, this akuma was most definitely Papillon’s newest masterpiece.

She flinched when a hand settled on her shoulder and tried to inch away from it, without removing her hands from her ears. Unfortunately, the hand remained, grounding her ever so slightly. Finally she gave in and looked up. Robin was watching her, but rather than disdain or pity, his face was pinched with concern. She huffed out a laugh, it was weak and made Robin flinch. She shrugged his hand off and stood; she held her head high and wiped her tears away. Ignoring his questioning looks, she tossed her yo-yo out.

“Ladybug,” he said softly.

“Don’t. Whatever you have to say, keep it to yourself. I don’t care,” she croaked. She didn’t want to hear anything he had to say, she just wanted to be done with this night and its horrors.

“Ladybug,” he repeated. “Regardless of whatever you might think or feel, you are not alone. There are plenty of other heroes who know exactly how you feel, who have been exactly where you are.”

That stopped her in her tracks. Of course Robin of all people had seen her memories, her nightmares and her fears. She turned and glared at him, though she imagined it wasn’t all that effective. What with her tear streaked face and red eyes.

“I know how you feel,” Robin sighed and she deflated. “That your best is not enough, that you, yourself are not good enough. I have been in your shoes. I have felt alone.”

“Well, you certainly don’t act like it,” she sniped bitterly, closing in on herself.

“I apologize,” Robin stated.

“What?”

“I am sorry,” he repeated. “I realize that I may have come off as too brusque and in doing so have diminished your accomplishments.”

“Why?” she asked. “Why are you apologizing? You have nothing to be sorry for. You were right, I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m just playing at being a hero. My villain just found out my identity and so did all of you and your team.”

“That being, it was not, nor is it, your fault,” he replied. “I made assumptions of which I am at fault for, and of which caused the predicament of which you have found yourself in. You cannot quit or give up because of several imbeciles, because if you do, you let them win. You do not strike me as a sore loser, Ladybug.”

Marinette let out a laugh and watched as Robin’s expression shifted. He no longer looked concerned, but was now smiling wryly at her. She returned the smile. “Thank you Robin.”

“You are welcome,” he said. “Now I believe you have an akuma to take care of? Would you care for some assistance?”

“I would,” she replied.

“I look forward to working with you more,” he said, “Marinette.”

Marinette nodded, feeling her face flush at the way Robin said her name. “I do too Robin. I do too.”

#maribat #daminette #mgi 1 year anniversary #ali-kitkat's writing #ali-kitkat writes #i live

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lovebecomeshim · 3 years

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hello! your zutara posting today has finally motivated me to ask this question because I came to atla very late(last year, to be specific) and I Love It Very Much but am 1000% out of the loop as far as why what remains of fandom (at least that I've seen among my friends) is so very strongly zutara. I'm not opposed to it per se I just don't really know what has driven it to apparently be such a popular ship? can you help me understand and maybe convert me a little bit?

Hey!! Your ICON! :D I can try but I’m not sure how coherent I’ll be; however I AM sure someone a lot more competent will be willing to add to this. Either way, I’m glad you asked because my plan was to drag down as many people as possible with me.

*smacks the hood of zutara* this baby can fit so much mutual love and support!

This got so long, I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to put it under a cut on mobile and it already got deleted once so I’m scared to mess with it lol. Moving on.

I’m gonna start this with a disclaimer that im on mobile so formatting is tricky and I’m also really new to atla in that I only completed my first watch through in like 2019??? So some of my info is all just based on what I’ve picked up from Discourse 👀 so anyway the sparknotes version: zutara was wildly popular from the beginning. To the point where the atla crew internally disagreed on which ship should be endgame. (Ex. Bryke [showrunners] asked the writers to rewrite The Southern Raiders to make Zuko seem less ideal for Katara than Aang [which failed, depending on who you ask]; the animation team purposefully created a visual parrallel between Oma and Shu in the Cave of Two Lovers and Zuko and Katara in the catacombs under Ba Sing Se in the Crossroads of Destiny; etc.)

The ship was popular enough that Bryke actually chose to display zk fanart at a con for the sole purpose of mocking the fans, but that’s neither here nor there. The entire episode Ember Island Players, while a love letter to/parody of the whole show, was an opportunity to address zutara’s viability as a canon pairing (while, again, mocking zutaras for romanticizing that catacombs scene). Point is! It’s always been popular but with it not being endgame, there’s got to be something that’s given it staying power.

And that’s honestly got to do with three things: their dynamic, thematic cohesion, and potential.

(You know what... you know what, it’s four things. The fourth is they’re so aesthetically pleasing together and individually. Like, they’re just good looking people [specifically when they’re grown but they’re also cute kids] and that absolutely doesn’t hurt) (but it’s not the Point, it’s just nice to point out sometimes)

The dynamic is hard to get into without also looking at the canon pairings, but I think I can do that without unnecessary bashing. It’s just that part of the magic of zutara is really highlighted by what they give to each other that their other relationships don’t.

First off, it’s classic enemies to (would be) lovers. The absolute truest form of it. It’s not too different from how CS started out: a rogue antagonist with a job to do—but no personal vendetta against the future love interest—who is deeply and emotionally invested in his personal storyline (revenge/redemption) with little regard for how it effects other people after his entire life and genuine good nature are marred by suffering, and a fierce warrior girl with a strong moral compass and her own personal investment in stopping him (protect her family and save the world doing it). Obviously frustration and animosity grew between them by the nature of them being on opposing sides, but that just lends itself to the sweetness of their later reconciliation.

The thing is that while they’re wildly different on the surface (he’s a hot-headed prince of a fascist regime who is trying to capture the Avatar to please his father; she’s a nurturing daughter of the chief who is trying to protect and train the Avatar in order to topple his father’s throne) they find out that they have so much more in common both in their experiences and their personalities.

(What follows is an excessive use of the word “both” and I’m sorry about that)(I can edit it. I can do that. That IS an option............)

They both have an innate sense of justice that they are determined to see done (zuko, at the war meeting, sticking up for the Earth Kingdom kid when the guards torment his family, choosing not to steal from the pregnant couple despite his circumstances, abiding by his word to leave the SWT should Aang come willingly, etc.; katara, literally.... at any point). They both have pretty one-track minds at accomplishing certain goals once they’ve put their mind to it, regardless of a lack of support in that endeavor (it goes without saying I guess, but zuko’s entire hunt; katara’s determination to get the earth benders to fight back, her determination to absolutely destroy Pakku until he agrees to teach her, etc.). They both lost their mothers at young ages. Their worlds are war-torn and traumatizing to them both, if in different ways, but that ultimately forces them to grow up too quickly to be wholly independent individuals. They both have issues with their fathers (for WILDLY different reasons, but). They both hold extreme prejudices that they need to learn to overcome (which ties into thematic cohesion)(bit like Lizzie and Darcy in that way but magnified by a million). They’re both extremely emotional and empathetic—which can and often does result in loud outbursts. Katara’s a bit better adjusted and can temper her anger for longer than S1 Zuko can, but they both feel that anger deeply and have no compunctions expressing it (Katara is, usually, more justified, particularly in S1. Again, S1 Zuko is severely maladjusted but at the point when they could’ve feasibly become a couple, he’s so much better off with the way he carries himself). They both struggle with feelings of inferiority in their bending abilities when confronted with prodigal benders like Aang and Azula, but have the work ethic required to double down and become two of the most powerful benders in the three remaining nations. This is a little more minor but it is a parrallel that appeals to some shippers that they both have these alter egos in the Painted Lady (notably fire nation coded) and the Blue Spirit (water tribe coded) that are pretty different from who they are day-to-day and are useful in accomplishing a purpose that they as themselves cannot.

(I’m.... I just realized that this could potentially get very long. Should I have made a slide show with bullet points??????)

Anyway, similar. I know there’s more but there’s literally so much to love about zutara that I’ll drive myself a little crazy trying to compile all the ways they’re similar. (Just gonna say that at this exact moment I went back to add more similarities.... so okay then)

Once they’ve reconciled, we see how all of these things only lend themselves to a deeper intimacy together than they share with literally anyone else. There’s a steady partnership that positions them as the mom/dad of the gaang, while also providing the support necessary to allow the other to not have to carry so much responsibility. A lot of zutaras will point out how zuko is actually depicted doing the more domestic chores that are normally relegated to Katara once he joins the gaang, since the others in the group are two 12-year-olds and sokka. The one that sticks out the most is how he makes tea for the group and then serves them, while Katara is able to just relax with her friends around the fire. Fanon expands upon this a lot to Zuko helping with the laundry or the cooking or whatever else needs doing since he, as a once-refugee, is used to doing his own domestic tasks. Before Zuko joined, Katara was the one mothering everyone, sewing for them, cooking for them, etc. She’s always tending to the needs of the group, and that includes emotionally. She does the emotional labor for the gaang 99% of the time, but when she’s the one falling apart, she’s usually doing it alone and without the comfort that she normally provides for others. Until Zuko. And that’s before they’re even friends.

Which is WHY people romanticize the catacombs of Ba Sing Se so much. Katara is verbally attacking Zuko out of her own righteous anger but also her own prejudice when Zuko, surprisingly, chooses to be vulnerable with her. He’s been on a journey that’s opened his eyes a bit, but he’s never actively chosen to expose the rawest parts of his past to anyone. But for some reason he chooses to do that with Katara of all people. While she’s yelling at him. He sees her humanity, and for once can look past his prejudice and empathize with her. And this time, when she breaks down, she gets to be comforted. Katara normally talks about her mother when she’s trying to explain to someone else that she sees and understands they’re pain, as a form of comfort to them. Here, Zuko uses the exact same tactic. He sees her and he understands. And for zuko? He’s not being shut down. He’s allowed to articulate his pain regarding his mother without being ignored and made to internalize it, and he’s allowed to process how he feels about his scar out loud without being told that he deserved it. And then he lets her touch his scar, something we’ve seen him actively avoid before. He’s completely open to her and she’s completely open to him and all it took was one five minute conversation. She was about to use the little bit of Spirit water that she had, that she was saving for something Important, to heal the scar that still daily causes him pain just because they had, somehow, connected.

Plus there’s the whole parallel to the star-crossed lovers forbidden from one another, a war divides their people—

And then zuko messes up, he regresses, he gets what he wants and he HATES it. And the sense of justice he had as a child has been restored to him against his will and he can’t think of anything he wants to do more than the Right Thing, so he joins team avatar. Before he does that though, we get to see his relationship with Mai, which is where comparison really comes in. And what we see is Zuko, fresh off of his encounter with Katara in the catacombs, trying to be emotionally honest with Mai... and getting shut down and dismissed. Which is just how Mai is and it’s fine, but not for Zuko. Still, he keeps trying, and he keeps getting ignored or scoffed at or yelled at. Which is really a larger symbol for how he doesn’t fit in his old life anymore, but again that’s about thematic cohesion. He tries to articulate his anxieties about returning home, he tries to make romantic gestures, he tries to explain how morally conflicted he’s feeling—and Mai diverts to some kind of physical affection to shut him up and a parting comment that is pretty much always, in essence, “I don’t wanna talk about this.” So they don’t. On the other hand, once zuko and Katara are friends, we see him again emotionally distraught and caught up in his anxieties about facing Iroh, and it’s Katara who comes to him and listens to him and comforts and encourages him.

Similarly, we have Aang clamming up and getting uncomfortable whenever Katara shows any negative emotion, usually resulting in him making excuses or running away. Or, in the case of the Southern Raiders, lecturing her on how she needs to just let go of her anger about her mother’s murder. People have talked this episode to death and usually better than I ever could, so imma... keep it brief. There’s a serious disconnect between Aang and Katara in his ability to empathize with Katara and her needs that has her tamping down her vulnerability and amping up her anger. He tells her that he was able to forgive his people’s genocide and appa’s kidnapping (petnapping? Theft??), which is blatantly not true but also not an entirely equal parrallel to Katara’s situation, and continues making these little remarks throughout the episode. But it’s Zuko that Katara opens up to. It’s with him that she’s able to talk about the most traumatic day of her life, and it’s with him that she’s able to get the closure she needs, cementing their bond as friends and partners. This disagreement between Aang and Katara is then... never resolved. They just never bring it up and hear what the other is saying.

There’s a fic called The Portraits of Ember Island that has a line that so completely sums up the heart of the matter for why people love their dynamic. For context, zuko has woken up early to help Katara with the cooking and they spend the whole time just letting one another talk, and zuko stops to ask why she always just lets him talk. And so she stops to ask why he’s always helping, and it goes as follows:

There’s just... so much mutual support! Trust! Intimacy!! And it just continues like that from the Southern Raiders on, listening to each other, advising each other, watching each other’s backs! And then! Literally saving each other’s lives!! I will never be over the last Agni kai. Not ever. Zuko may have been willing to jump in front of lightning for anyone, but he actually did it for Katara. And in a show, that’s the thing that really matters. It’s a fulfilled trope usually exclusively applied to romantic pairings, and it ended up applying to Zuko and Katara. And then she ran out into the middle of a fight with tunnel vision just to get to him.

Also!! Also Zuko pushing Katara out of the way of the falling rocks at the Western Air Temple!! And Katara catching him as he fell from the war balloon that he fought Azula on!! Before they’re even getting along, they’re the ones reaching for each other. They come to this place of equal ground, as partners, who watch each other’s backs, call each other out but still listen attentively and understand, and provide the support that the other has been sorely lacking up until they knew each other (whether that be from lack of effort or lack of understanding from others, or an unwillingness to accept it for themselves).

Then, trailing along under the surface of this, we see the themes of the show totally embodied by Zuko and Katara as individuals and in their relationship to one another. There’s a YouTuber, sneezyreviews, who has a, like, 2-hour explanation on why she not only loves zutara but also believes that their endgame would’ve actually elevated the writing of atla to new levels particularly because of thematic cohesion and resolved character arcs. It’s the zutara dissertation I never knew I needed, and it’s funny and eloquent and effective, so I’m just going to sum up her section on thematic cohesion to the best of my abilities and then link it for whenever you have the time. And I HIGHLY recommend it, especially if you want a full understanding of what makes zutara so great and gives it such longevity.

Guru pathik has a line that goes something like this: separation is an illusion; things that seem different are just two parts of the same whole. Iroh also tells Zuko something similar: balance and strength are achieved when the different nations come together and influence one another and celebrate what makes them each unique. And this lesson is a massive central arc that both Zuko and Katara go through, moving past a black-and-white, good guys-vs-bad guys, us-vs-them mentality and into a greyer, more nuanced view of the world. Zuko sees the fire nation from an entirely new perspective and while he still loves and hopes for his nations future, he surrenders his blind loyalty to them in exchange for an unflinching loyalty to peace and love. Katara too had to come to terms with the fact that cruel people exist in the earth kingdom and water tribes, while some fire nation citizens are just regular, kind people who also need and deserve to have someone speak on their behalf. And this is honed in directly on how they view each other. They grow in their individual journeys to be open to the humanity in the other and then, once they’ve found that, they’re able to grow more in compassion for others in a beautiful feedback loop. And this is all matched in the symbolism repeatedly and intentionally associated with them in canon: sun and moon, fire and water, yin and yang, Oma and Shu who found love despite their warring nations. Their individual arcs are completed in each other and complement the themes of atla beautifully.

The canon pairs... just don’t. Which, again, is fine. But the very things that give atla longevity and popularity are anchored in zutara. Kat@ang doesn’t accomplish this. They’re... nice. Sweet. Especially when you erase a good portion of their interactions in S3. It could’ve been just a sweet love story. (Personally, the dynamic between toph and aang accomplish the same thing that zutara does, with complementary personalities that fulfill the theme of opposites blending in harmony) M@iko, on the other hand, is less sweet but I think wasn’t even supposed to last. Zuko’s relationship with Mai seems to represent his relationship with his old life as a whole. He can’t be emotionally vulnerable, he’s goaded into abusing his privileges, his agency and opinions aren’t respected. They just don’t have common ground with which to discuss anything that matters, so they don’t. As far as themes, the relationship doesn’t fit with atla. It’s zuko returning to and sticking with what is (on the surface) like him, what’s expected. Fire nation with fire nation. Fluid water bender with the flexible air bender. Like with like, separated from what is different and challenging and complementary.

And all of these things combined of course lead to the potential for the ship. I don’t know how familiar you are with the post-atla canon but... well, miss “I will never turn my back on people who need me”, miss “I don’t want to heal! I want to fight!” ends up living quietly in the SWT as a designated healer who turns a blind eye to the water tribe civil war happening right outside her front door. Which can be fine! People change! Some people just wanna stay inside. I just wanna stay inside! But the potential future for zutara is so much more satisfying, with Katara becoming the most unconventional Fire Lady the uppity old cads who are stuck on the old ways have ever seen. Fanon has her serving as a voice for the other nations within a kingdom at the point of its biggest political upheaval, as a confidante to Zuko who can actually help him while he’s trying to figure out how to move forward and make reparations. They have the opportunity, together, to accomplish what they both have set on their hearts to fight for: positive change that lends itself to harmony and balance. And the steambabies! A popular headcanon is that their firstborn daughter, the crown princess, is actually a waterbender, which causes such an uproar among the people who are adamantly clinging to the old ways. It’s just a future full of potential to be forces for good together, full of trust, intimacy, joy. The exact era of peace and love and balance that zuko announces that he intends to ring in with the start of his reign as Fire Lord is, again, magnified by the very personal zutara relationship. And we love to see it.

tl;dr zutara isn’t for everyone. Some people just don’t vibe with it. Some are nostalgic. Some love the canon they grew up with. Some have been disappointed for years. Some just see themselves in other characters and want their happiness instead. Whatever the reason, that’s fine. But for me, I love the way these two, from the moment they give each other a fair chance, are able to lower their walls and prejudices to see the other for the kindred spirits they are. They see each other’s humanity, and their response is to pour out love and support and compassion. I love that they’re a power couple in battle. I love the symbolism and, honestly, soulmatism that colors their every interaction. I love that they embody the whole storyline of atla in their relationship and how it develops, which is notably why their seasonal arcs always culminate in each finale with how they relate to one another. I love that zuko adopting a waterbending move is what actually saves his life and then katara’s. I love the chemistry! And I love the future they could’ve had, instead of the ones they were given.

So, in conclusion: I just think they’re neat and I hope you do too, at least a little bit. Even if it’s just respectfully from a disinterested distance cause you do you. And now here is the video I mentioned. I’m sorry this post got so long and then I gave you an even longer homework assignment, but I can’t recommend it enough. She says it all better than I can.

youtube

#zutara #atla #zutara rant #like really the way the canon relationships were written throughout s3 #it would’ve been more believable for zutara to happen #or at least be hinted at #all of the major issues presented in those relationship were dug up extensively and then... never resolved #and then they just slapped some kisses on a screen and said ‘there all better’#and we just kinda had to say ‘oh ok guess it’s all better then’#this got long I’m sorry #I wrote it all out and then tumblr ate 2/3 of it #which is why it took so long #and what I’ve written now doesn’t even match what I had before #because there’s too much to say about why I love zutara #and the stuff I left out the first time is what came out this time #rip to my original thoughts but this post is different #anyway that’s why this took so long #and I should’ve just made a PowerPoint...#I can do that too if you’d rather not read all of this lol #I won’t be offended #this is incoherent #Alia rambles uselessly #also hoping this doesn’t end up in any wrong tags because I don’t wanna step on toes lol #it’s not anti!! it’s just critical #in a compare/contrast way #I can pinpoint the moment when I started trying to rewrite my points from memory #because everything gets shorter and more succinct #like... I really said all that??? sounds fake and I don’t remember it anyway so here’s the condensed version #with no!! smooth!!! transitions!!!!#also why am I so lazy with proper grammar over text

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triptuckers · 3 years

Text

Two Homes (part 4/7) - Nikolai Lantsov

Request: no Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x reader Summary: after enjoying a walk through the gardens with nikolai, you watch as he gets shot right in front of you Warnings: mentions of blood, bullet wounds, language, angst Word count: 2.2K A/N: after the cliffhanger in the last part here’s what happens next ;) also how long do people have to recover after a Grisha has healed them? I don’t have a single clue. enjoy reading! PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART TAG LIST (two homes and/or all grishaverse fics): @godsofwriting@im-constantly-fangirling @ayushmitadutta @mrs-brekker15@dancingwith-sunflowers @thegirlwiththeimpala @parker-natasha @story-scribbler @romanoffstarkovs @daliareads @meiitanoia @itsnotquimey @sanktaesperanza @whymyparentscheckmyphone @aleksanderwh0r3 @ilovemarvelanne1 (if your name is in bold it means I couldn't tag you) add yourself to my tag lists here

It’s like everything happens in slow motion. The way Nikolai falls to the floor. The way the white fabric of his shirt slowly turns to red. And then your senses kick in, and you rush to his side.

‘Are you alright?’ you say as you drop to your knees beside him.

‘I’m perfectly fine.’ he groans, despite his wounds.

‘Don’t fucking say that. You got shot, you’re not fine.’ you harshly say, hastily moving so you can sit more comfortably beside him.

Despite his injuries, Nikolai still manages to raise his eyebrows at you.

‘Sorry.’ you say. ‘I didn't mean to sound harsh. I tend to say the first things that come to mind when someone’s hurt.’

You move to rip off a piece of the hem of your dress.

‘Already taking the dress off, huh? At least have a dance with me first.’ he says.

How could he possibly still flirt after being shot twice? You ignore him as you use the piece of your dress to bind his shoulder.

‘This might hurt.’ you murmur as you pull it tightly around his shoulder. You hear Nikolai curse, but don’t respond. Instead, you move to see to his stomach.

‘Where did you learn how to do that?’ he asks.

‘I live in Ketterdam.’ you simply say.

You look at him. Laying on his back, blonde hair a mess and the skin of his face slightly more pale. Yet he still managed to look good. You put the thought out of your head and focus on his wounds again.

‘I’m going to have to put pressure on your stomach, but it’s going to hurt.’ you say.

Nikolai motions to you with his hand. ‘Do whatever you have to do to stop me from bleeding out, sweetheart.’ he says.

You nod and lay your hands on his stomach, pressing down hard. Nikolai groans and his hand instinctively flies to lay on top of yours.

‘I must say, this is the most interesting first date I’ve ever been on.’ he says.

You briefly look at him before turning your attention back to his stomach. ‘Not a date.’ you say.

‘Really?’ he says. ‘Are you going to tell me you just wandered off to the garden with absolutely no intention of meeting a king?’

‘Sounds about right.’ you say.

‘I find that hard to believe.’ says Nikolai.

‘Don’t get me wrong, but I really meant it when I said I have no intention of marrying you or spending another minute at the palace.’ you say.

‘Such a shame.’ says Nikolai, groaning again when you put more pressure on his stomach. ‘You’re nice company.’

‘You’re only saying that because you lost blood and I’m trying to prevent you from losing any more.’ you say.

You turn to look at Nikolai, who still manages to smile at you. He opens his mouth to say something, but the sound of yet another gunshot drowns out his words.

‘Saints.’ you curse, when you feel the bullet hitting you in the arm. Despite getting shot, you don’t remove your hands from Nikolai’s stomach. ‘This trip is getting more and more interesting by the minute, I have to give you that.’ you say. ‘I’m used to being shot at in Ketterdam, but I thought the palace grounds would be different.’

You feel blood slowly leaking down your bare arm, like a warm stream of liquid.

‘I have to get help, but I can’t leave you.’ you say. ‘Do you have any idea on how to get someone out here without one of us leaving?’

As if they heard you, several people run toward you. You notice all of them wearing kefta’s, except for two of them, who wear olive coloured clothing. Though you don’t recognise their faces, you had heard plenty of stories from Nina about Nikolai’s triumvirate and his personal guards.

A woman in a red kefta rushes toward you. ‘What happened?’ she says, looking from you to Nikolai.

‘We just got back from a walk in the gardens. He was about to enter the ball room again, when he got shot.’ you explain.

‘I told you not to leave the ball room.’ she says, glaring at Nikolai.

‘Can you blame me, Genya?’ says Nikolai. ‘There was a particular woman who would refuse to stop dancing, she made it very hard to slip away.’

‘This is what happens when you don’t listen to us.’ groans Genya as she looks at his wounds. ‘Did you bind your own shoulder?’

Nikolai shakes his head. ‘Y/N did.’

Genya looks at you, the alarmed look on her face slowly fades and her features soften. ‘Thank you.’ she says. ‘We’ll take it from here. Did you see where the shooter went?’

‘The shots came from there.’ you say, motioning with your head to a line of trees behind you. Immediately, a woman in a blue kefta and the two people in olive clothing head to the spot you pointed to.

Genya looks to the only Grisha who is still there. ‘David, help me get Nikolai up. We have to get him to a healer.’ she tells him.

David nods and moves closer. You’re hesitant to remove your hands from his wound.

‘It’s alright, Y/N.’ says Nikolai when he notices your hesitation. ‘They know what they’re doing, and we have healers standing by.’

You nod at him and remove your hands from his stomach. Immediately, more blood starts to leak out of his wound. But David is quick to put his hands on it as Genya helps Nikolai to his feet.

Just as they start walking, Genya looks over her shoulder at you. She smiles at you. ‘You need to come as well, you got shot too.’ she says.

In all the chaos, you had forgotten you got shot as well. But now that you realise it, it’s like the pain you didn’t feel at first comes flooding back.

‘Right.’ you say as you follow them, wrapping a hand around your own wound.

You’re grateful to see Genya and David are leading you through halls far away from the ball room. Your hands are covered in blood, as well as one of your arms. And your dress is torn at the bottom, and also stained with blood. The last thing you wanted was for people to see you like that.

You soundlessly follow the three people ahead of you. You don’t even register the riches surrounding you, or wonder about the closed doors you pass. Your arm is painfully throbbing and despite your hand on your arm, you can still feel blood leaking down your arm.

Both you and Nikolai leave a trail of red drops behind as you walk. You’re feeling a bit guilty about it, but then you remember there’s plenty enough Grisha around to make the blood trail disappear in seconds.

Ahead of you, Genya and David lead Nikolai into a room. You follow them and see you’re in a room with several beds. One of them is occupied, but because of the curtains around it, you can’t see who’s in it.

Genya and David help Nikolai lay down in one of the beds, and a healer rushes to his side. You watch as they put curtains around his bed as well, giving him some privacy. You know you shouldn’t listen to them, but a small part of you can’t help but to feel worried. After all, he got shot right in front of you.

‘Ma’am?’

The sudden voice next to you startles you. You turn to see a healer looking at you.

‘Is it okay if I heal your arm?’ he says.

Once more, you had completely forgotten you got shot as well. You nod and allow him to lead you to one of the beds as well. You sit down and watch as the healer starts to work on your arm.

You’ve never seen a Grisha healer working up close. You’d seen Nina use her power, but she had explained to you that she was a heartrender, not a healer. You watch in amazement as the flesh on your arm seems to melt back together, not even leaving a small trace. No one would be able to tell you got shot.

After he’s done, you thank the healer and get up, moving toward the door.

‘Leaving so soon?’

You turn around upon hearing the familiar voice. The curtains around his bed had been removed, and Nikolai is already sitting up, looking at you.

‘I’m going back to Ketterdam.’ you say.

‘Well, then, you’d want to catch the first boat. Maybe avoid your father, I can’t imagine him being happy with your choice. Best to take the fastest horse we have.’ he says.

If Genya and David seemed confused or surprised by his words, they didn’t show it. You’re perplexed, but nod at Nikolai.

‘Thank you for the flower.’ you say. ‘And the walk. It was nice.’

With a last smile, you leave the room. You walk through the halls, trying to find a way out. It seems like whoever had built the palace, had designed it to be a maze.

You occasionally stop to listen if you can hear the music from the ball room. But the halls are quiet, aside from your footsteps. And the last thing you wanted to do was trace your footsteps back and ask Nikolai for a way out.

Ahead of you, someone walks around the corner. You recognise the blue kefta. She was with the other Grisha who rushed to Nikolai’s aid outside. You quickly walk up to her.

‘Hi.’ you say. ‘Do you know the way out of here? This place is a maze.’

She looks at your torn and blood stained dress. If she was curious, she hid it very well. You couldn’t read the expression on her face. Just as you think she might not even talk to you, she points to the hallway she just came from.

‘Down that hall, take a left at the end of it and then the second hall on your right.’ she says.

‘Thank you.’ you say, and you walk past her. You feel her eyes burning in your back, but don’t look behind you.

You follow her instructions, and feel relieved when you see the tall doors and the staircase that leads outside. Just as you start to walk down the stairs, you hear someone shout your name behind you.

‘Saints.’ you mumble to yourself and you briefly close your eyes in frustration. You knew that voice all too well. You turn around to face your father.

His face is reddened with anger as he looks at you, and he takes a few steps toward you.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’ he says, his words cutting harshly through the air. He then notices your ruined dress. ‘And what happened to your dress? That was expensive. Why weren’t you at the ball?’

‘I told you I didn’t want to go. Did you really expect me to stay?’ you say. You really didn’t feel like fighting with him right now. Despite not attending the ball, you were tired. You wanted to go home.

‘This was the chance of a lifetime! Don’t you see how ungrateful you are? Slipping away right before I was going to introduce you to the king? You could have married a king, and that marriage could have made me rich. Now I’m just going to have to marry you off to another merchant.’ he says, his voice growing louder with each sentence.

You open your mouth to protest, to defend your choices, but stop abruptly when you see someone emerging from the doors behind your father.

Nikolai had fixed his hair and changed his bloodied shirt for a clean one. If you hadn’t been right there when he got shot, you wouldn’t be able to tell he got hurt at all. He smiles at you before stepping closer to your father, who didn’t realise someone is standing behind him.

‘I’m afraid you can’t marry her off to a merchant, sir.’ says Nikolai politely. ‘I’ve picked Y/N as my bride.’

Your father turns around and the both of you stare at Nikolai with wide eyes. But Nikolai merely smiles at you and offers you his arm. ‘Shall we go inside?’ he says.

You quickly go over your chances in your head. If you would go back to Ketterdam, which you had wanted since you boarded the ship in the harbour, you would probably marry a merchant who would be at least thirty years older.

If you went with Nikolai, at least you had a chance to think it all over, and make your own decision. And your father wouldn’t be able to control your life, no matter how hard he’d try to.

Nikolai still holds out his arm to you, smiling at you. You look at his hazel eyes and nod slightly. You walk up the steps and lay your hand on his arm. Without even sparing your father a glance, you allow Nikolai to lead you right back into the palace you’d sworn to walk away from.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

#my mom is yelling at me that we need to leave cause im getting myself second covidvaccin dose #im like iN A MINUTE cause I need to upload this and fix the links lakjdflkjs #nikolai lantsov #shadow and bone #grishaverse #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov fanfiction #nikolai lantsov fanfic #nikolai lantsov fanfics #nikolai lantsov fic #nikolai lantsov fics #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone fanfics #shadow and bone fic #shadow and bone fics #two homes series

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peggyrose19 · 3 years

Text

All I Want

I wrote another one :) They’re just so fun. This takes place in the future by about three years. Luke is away at college somewhere and Saint stayed on the island (I think). At some point you may get that whole thing, but for now you just get this. Characters by @lumosinlove

For @im-oknutzy-trash, it’s all going to be okay love

cw: character death mention

Luke stood on the porch staring up at the stars, not sure why he was still awake. It was late, far past midnight. Sleep called to him but he ignored it, instead staying outside, breathing in the crisp air. It was quiet, chilly. It didn’t smell of salt here, the way home did. He missed it.

In that moment, all he wanted was Saint. He knew, he knew he wasn’t supposed to, that he couldn’t want that. Saint was gone from his life now, just the teenage boy from his memory, that had healed his heart and then left it in pieces. And yet. He found himself craving Saint’s touch, the familiar comfort of his body.

But Saint wasn’t there. Saint was on Hogwarts, thousands of miles away, thinking of someone other than Luke. And Luke was stuck here, standing on a porch in the middle of the night cursing up at the stars, wishing for the boy to come save him again.

“Well Tweedle, if I’d known things would get this bad, I would’ve tried harder to get you to stay,” a familiar voice quipped from behind, and for a moment Luke couldn’t move. Everything in him froze, alight with memories Luke whipped around and met Saint’s golden eyes.

“Saint.”

He smiled crookedly. “Hey Luke.”

Luke hadn’t realized he’d moved until suddenly he was in Saint’s arms, face pressed to his shoulder, breathing in the familiar smell of salt that hung to everything Saint owned. He clung to him as if Saint was a lifeline, pulling him from the icy depths of the ocean.

“Saint, what the fuck are you doing here?” Luke asked when he’d finally pulled away.

“I heard about your mom,” Saint replied, and Luke frowned further. “And then you didn’t… you didn’t come home, for the funeral. Lot of people missing you back home.”

Luke had always liked that about Saint: he got to the point. He never sugar-coated anything, never lied for the sake of protecting someone’s feelings. At times it had it’s drawbacks, had led to Luke resenting him at times. But in this moment it was good. Luke didn’t want empty apologies or condolences, shared memories from people he didn’t know.

He wanted Saint. Saint, who knew better than to offer false sympathies, who could hold him close and make the whole world disappear, who had been there for everything and still stuck around. He had wanted the boy that knew him better than anyone and then he had appeared, as if he had read his mind.

That doesn’t explain why you’re here. Or how…” Luke trailed off. He didn’t know how to say it, how to ask the questions plaguing his mind.

“I came for you,” Saint replied, before Luke had a chance to try.

“But why? Why do you still care, after three years? Why bother?”

Saint exhaled forcefully and glared at him. Or tried to. At least some things didn’t change. Like Saint trying to act irritated and Luke laughing at him. But Saint’s next words made it hard to laugh.

“Because it’s you, you fucking idiot. How could I not?” Saint shook his head, voice dropping to a whisper. “How could I not?”

Luke didn’t realize how close they had become until suddenly he had one hand on Saint’s chest, as if holding him at bay and tugging him closer all at once. He heard Saint’s breath catch, felt his own heart race ever faster, and he wanted. Wordlessly, Luke kissed him.

Saint didn’t pull away, which surprised him. Luke hadn’t expected to get this far, had expected Saint to push him away and hide his pain with humor the way he always did. But that didn’t happen this time. Instead, Saint kissed him back, gentle and soft, the taste of honey on his lips Somehow Saint’s hands found his hair, running through his unruly curls, and Luke let himself sink into Saint, into his intoxicating heat, so familiar and new even after three years apart.

When they finally did pull apart, Luke panted heavily, watching Saint step back under the crescent moon.

“Saint…” he whispered, and those warm brown eyes found his again.

“I know.”

“Please don’t leave.” His voice broke.

Without a sound, Saint reached out and grabbed his hand. Luke let him. And when Saint pulled him towards the door, Luke followed, leading Saint back to his empty dorm room. They left the lights off and got in bed, cautiously feeling their way in semi-darkness.

“Tell me,” Saint whispered after a while, studying Luke’s face in the dim light, one hand running through his hair. Their legs tangled together, hidden beneath the thin blanket.

Luke let his eyes slip shut. “It’s complicated.”

“I can handle complicated, Tweedle.”

He opened his eyes again to see Saint smiling at him, a hint of sadness in his face. His expression was open in a way Luke so rarely saw, those eyes searching.

And so Luke told him. Of the complicated relationship he and his mother had always had. The way she had checked out after his father’s arrest, barely sparing her son a second glance. All the times he’d needed her then and she hadn’t been there, had left him to fend for himself. He told Saint of the good things too, swimming with her in the ocean as a child, drinking lemonade on the porch and feeling like an adult, going to parties and being able to say ‘that’s my mom’ with pride. He missed those days, more than he’d ever been willing to admit. But something about Saint and the darkness made it easier to say.

When he finished, voice hoarse and tears still drying on his cheeks, Luke looked back over at Saint, half afraid of what he would find. He needn’t have been. Saint was watching him carefully, sorrow hidden in his eyes, but Luke knew where to look. He was well-practiced in the art of reading Saint.

“I’m not gonna leave you know,” he said finally. Luke blinked.

“What?” “I’m not leaving. I mean it. If you want me to stay, I’ll stay. If you want me to go I’ll hang around until you get so sick of me you can’t stand the sight of me, I don’t care but I’m staying. I’m not leaving you this time. I’m not.”

“I-“ Luke didn’t know what else to say. It was so out-of-character for Saint, declarations and promises he could never ask him to keep.

“Please don’t make me leave,” Saint whispered, and that too was so unfamiliar, so different from the Saint that Luke had known.

But still he replied, “I won’t,” unthinkingly, knowing even as he said it that it was the truth.

He fell asleep still wrapped in Saint’s arms, the two of them barely fitting together on Luke’s twin bed. Saint’s body was warm, familiar. It reminded Luke of home, of the island and of high school, a bittersweet memory that sometimes he wanted and other times he didn’t. In that moment it was comforting, remembering all the times they’d spent together, finding safety in Saint’s arms once again. As his eyes slipped shut, he wished with everything that they could just stay here forever, safe and warm and in love.

But that was thing about wishes. They didn’t always come true.

#st. tweedle #luke x saint #future au #luke goes to college #character death mention #not fluff #hurt comfort?#but like the ending isn't happy #sorry #relic keel #lumosinlove

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fanfic-cave · 3 years

Note

I also love some nice Angst with a hint of fluff in the end 😄 So how about after Sera told them about Umbara and what happened, she gets a really nasty nightmare about what happened there and this time the batch is there too and Hunter takes the place of her Captain and everything is even worse. Then Hunter wakes her up, comforts her with a cup of hot chocolate he hates because of the intense smell but makes it for her so she feels better. And they cuddle.

If this doesn't fit with the storyline just ignore this ask 😅

Just a Dream

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 2.4k

Pairing: OC x Hunter

Warnings: War Scenes, death, and trauma.

Summary: Sera relives her worst and last battle of the clones wars through a nightmare. When Hunter arrives as she wakes, Sera tries to confide in him.

Authors note: I've had this draft sitting for like ever im sorry it took so long, I get so perfectionist-y about my fanfics even though im trying to just do it for fun asdakljf anyways I thought this was nice so enjoy! Thank you for the ask! :)

P.S. I went full out on this and studied the war tactics and how it actually happened on Umbara, this is just like a snippet of the details that I had figured out! tags: @mangoberry99

“General!” Captain of the 401st ran to Sera. He had his blaster in hand, ready to fight despite the fact that they just crash landed.

“Yes?” The Jedi General, Sera, looked up from her work. She knelt over an injured clone trooper, trying to do what she could to ease his pain. Based on the charred hole in his body, he wasn’t going to make it.

“We only have stray survivors from our ships, casualties are high-“ Sera and the Captain both ducked as rocks flew over their heads from a nearby explosion.

Sera glanced around the field and calculated quickly. “We need to retreat. Try seeing if you can reach General Kenobi or Skywalker, they’re the only battalions we’re close to,” Sera’s Captain nodded in agreement as she spoke, reaching for his comms.

“I’ll round up the survivors and try to find the best direction to retreat.” The dark planet's sky lit up with more enemy fire from the Umbarans. Sera’s face and the Captains helmet were lit up from the brightness. They only stared at each other in silence for a brief moment as the Umbara sky ignited above them. Sera’s expression was somber, and while she couldn’t see the Captains face, she knew his expression mirrored hers under the helmet. Neither of them liked their odds right now.

The heavy fire landed, exploding the nearby ships. Blood curdling screams came from the same direction. A sense of urgency filled Sera as she heard the screaming. “I’m counting on you, Sharp!” Sera began to turn away, yelling to Captain Sharp over her shoulder. “Yes Sir,” The Captain nodded, already working with the comm unit in hand. Sera glanced down to the clone she had been trying to heal moments ago. He was frozen, his head slumped and body limp.

The Jedi forced herself to continue, telling herself she can mourn once the battle is over. She had to save whoever she could now. “Troopers!” She yelled across the field, looking at a group of clones who were taking cover behind a flipped air transport. Their heads perked up from across the battlefield, and some hopeful expressions appeared as they saw their General. Sera squinted, then her eyes widened when she saw Wrecker was among the soldiers now, throwing scrap metal towards the enemy tanks. Tech suddenly flickered into existence, taking cover behind the same transport. One of the soldiers that had turned to Sera now saluted her. His arm was prosthetic, and the soldier suddenly morphed into Echo.

Sera shook her head, then suddenly something felt off and a sensation tugged at her gut. She froze. She knew it was the force, and it was a warning. Her eyes widened and turned to look toward the enemy lines.

Umbaran airships whizzed by and began firing down on the survivors. She looked to the surviving soldiers with a horrified expression. The Umbarans fire landed right in the center of her men, and she only heard their screams before her vision blacked out.

Sera got thrown back far, her body slamming to the ground hard. While her head snapped back and hit the rocky terrain, she felt her troopers' lives get instantly snuffed out from the heavy fire that rained from above. It felt like cotton filled her brain, her body not responding to her quickly enough. She opened her eyes, and tried to gather whatever strength she had left in herself and through the force that flowed through her. She rolled over to her side, and felt blood coming down her forehead.

Once she rolled over, she saw a soldier's charred body not too far away. He held a rifle in his hand, and she recognized the tattoo marks on his eye that formed a Crosshair.

Sera looked away from the disturbing sight, then tried sitting up. She halted her movement, then gasped and gripped her side. She had felt a sharp pain, and looked to see blood was on her hands. Her vision began to get cloudy, blood dripping into her eyes from an open wound on her head.

“General,” the whisper cut through the haze, and she recognized the voice immediately.

She ignored the pain and crawled over, seeing her Captain sprawled body lying feet from her. “Captain-“ Seras voice caught in her throat, and she couldn’t speak more, the sight of his broken body stealing her voice away. More flashes lit up the sky, and more fire came from the enemy’s tanks and airships. She squeezed her eyes tight. This can’t be happening. It’s just a dream.

“General-“ Sharp coughed weakly. He brought Sera back to the scene before her. She let the tears fall and she sat up as best she could, reaching to grab ahold of his bloodied hand.

“Stay with me Captain.” She forced herself to speak, and tried to sound confident. She tried to sound like the General these men deserved, not the one that had just failed them. He reached and lifted up his helmet.

Sera saw it was Hunter's face that was underneath the Captain's helmet, and he squeezed her hand tight. She sobbed quietly, letting the tears fall.

This isn’t how it happened

“Hunter, stay with me.” She remembered speaking this sentence before, the words came out forcefully and with passion just like they had the first time.

“It was an honor, General.” The words that had been spoken by Sharp came out of Hunter's mouth, now in his voice too instead of the Captains. Sera only sobbed harder.

“No! Not you, no no,”

The light left his eyes and his hand stopped gripping hers.

————

Sera awoke in bed, gasping for air. She sat up and ran her hands through her hair, trying to remember where she was.

He’s dead. They're all dead.

The door to her bedroom opened, and someone came through. Sera didn’t look up, but kept her fingers tangled in her short blonde hair, gripping her head tightly.

“Sera!” Hunter's smokey voice echoed through the room as he ran in, his vibroknife in hand. Sera kept staring down, trying to recall where she was and how she wasn’t injured. She pressed a hand to her side and felt no pain.

“What’s wrong, are you hurt?” He looked around, trying to find a threat.

“I-“ Sera couldn’t get another word out, and she tried to steady her breathing. Her memories started to come back to her now that she was awake.

It was just another nightmare. Everyone in clone force 99 is alive.

“I'm sorry, it was just a dream.” Sera's voice came back to her and she looked up to Hunter. His hair was messy, the bandana still in its rightful place though, and he wore his blacks.

He relaxed, then set the knife down on an end table, and looked down at her. He took in the scene, Sera shuddering in the bed, coated with sweat, breathing shakily. His expression softened as he began to comprehend what had happened. “A nightmare.” It didn't quite sound like a question when he said it, but Sera still nodded in confirmation.

Hunter looked away, placing a hand on his chin as he thought hard for a moment. Then an idea came to him and he looked up to Sera. “Will you be okay if I go for just a minute?”

Sera examined his expression. His eyes didn’t waver from her, and he waited patiently for her answer. She could tell that if she asked him to, he would stay with her no questions asked.

“Go, I’ll be okay.” Sera tried to smile and nod. She still felt herself shaking a bit, and she knew the smile probably wasn't convincing. Hunter nodded back and slipped out of the room.

While Hunter was gone, Sera sat herself up in the bed and tried to get more comfortable. She wiped away the layer of sweat that covered her forehead, and took slow, deep breaths. Her dream felt just like what happened on Umbara, it was almost a perfect replay, like the other times she had this nightmare. The difference this time was that the bad batch was there too, dying alongside her soldiers. But they’re alive, she reminded herself.

Sera’s thoughts were interrupted when Hunter opened the door, and held a steaming cup in his hand. His nose was wrinkled a bit, but he managed to maintain a normal expression otherwise. “Here.” He handed it to Sera. She looked curiously, and then took the cup. She instantly felt it’s warmth, and recognized it was Hot Coco.

“Hunter, you didn’t have to do that.” Sera looked at the cup gratefully. She knew the smell of the drink bothered him, ever since she made it for herself the first time she stayed aboard the havoc marauder. After seeing how it irritated Hunter's senses, she never drank it around them anymore.

Hunter shrugged, trying to act like it was no big deal. She could see his nose was still wrinkled, and turned away from the cup. “You’ve had a bad night. I know you like drinking this when you can’t sleep, Echo told me.”

Sera would’ve denied it if he hadn’t mentioned Echo, but it was true. Sera and Echo both had a habit of being insomniacs, and sometimes the two would pass by each other on a shared sleepless night, and sometimes they would keep eachother company

Sera sighed and decided not to fight Hunter on this. Despite what the clone thought, the Coco smelled amazing to her, and the warmth she felt from gripping it was inviting. “Thank you.” Sera quickly took a few sips, which turned into a few gulps of the chocolate drink. Hunter chuckled as she easily downed the drink.

“You're welcome.” He smiled and looked away, then sat at the edge of Sera’s bed. After she finished, she set the drink on her nightstand, just by her bed. She saw Hunter's knife was sitting just next to her now finished cup. She decided to reach for it, bringing it to her lap as she held it in her hands.

Hunter watched her fiddle with his knife, and decided to speak up. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asked her. Sera looked up and met his eyes. He was leaning back on his hands, and she could tell he didn’t want to push her.

“Just bad memories.” She answered briefly, then looked back down to the knife. She held the point at the tip of her finger. Her brow furrowed as the memories flickered in her mind, and she mindlessly fiddled with the blade, scraping the tip of it on her fingers. Hunter's hand came over hers, and her eyebrows came up, slightly surprised. She didn’t move.

“We all have bad memories from the war.” Hunter opened her hand and took the knife away gently. After it left her hands, she squeezed her now open hand into a fist. She nodded at his words.

Sera had these dreams so many times, too many times to count. She’s even had these nightmares while traveling with the group of rogue clones. Something was different this time though. She didn’t have someone here when she awoke from the bad dreams.

Sera’s chest felt tight as the emotions began to overwhelm her. Despite not following the Jedi code anymore, She still found herself in the habit of trying to have no attachments. Being attached to her soldiers, her men, it’s what hurt her the most when they died. But here they were, more clones once again breaking her walls down.

Hunter's arm came around Sera’s shoulder, and she easily leaned in and rested her head on his shoulder.

“You’re safe now, Sera.” Hunter squeezed Sera’s shoulder, trying to comfort her.

“It’s not me I’m worried about.”

Hunter turned his face a bit to eye her suspiciously. “You’re worried about us?”

Sera didn’t look at him. It felt like history was repeating itself. Sera finding more clones, joining arms with them, creating a close bond with them. There was only one thing left to make both of these stories the same.

No more deaths.

Hunter's chuckle brought Sera’s attention back to what was happening. “You know we can handle ourselves, right?” He was genuinely amused at the idea of Sera being worried about them.

“That was part of my nightmare.” Sera lowered her voice when she spoke, just breathing the words out.

Hunter didn’t laugh at that. Sera closed her eyes, and pressed her face into Hunter's shoulder. Hunter frowned at this, beginning to see how real her fear was.

“Hey,” Hunter shifted, moving so he could see her face. Sera lifted her face up when Hunter moved his shoulder away.

“We’re not going anywhere.” Hunter looked Sera dead in the eyes, both hands on her shoulder. He squeezed her shoulders gently. “You’re stuck with us as long as you’ll have us.” The corners of his mouth turned up a bit as he finished his sentence.

Starting to feel a surge of emotions come, Sera put her arms around Hunter and pulled him into an embrace. He wasn’t expecting it, but easily returned the gesture. He had gotten used to hugging more with her, and easily patted her back comfortingly.

“Thank you,” Sera breathed into Hunter's ear. Hunter froze for a moment, then straightened himself up and pulled away.

“Alright mesh’la, lay down and try to sleep.” Hunter gently grabbed onto Sera’s shoulders and started guiding her back down onto the bed.

“Mesh what now?” Sera yawned as she spoke. She didn’t know mando’a, except for picking up on some of the insults crosshair would direct to her occasionally.

“Sleep.” Hunter ordered, ignoring her question.

Despite wanting to argue, Sera’s eyes felt heavy, and she willingly laid back down on the bed. A few minutes passed, with Hunter staying diligently at the edge of the bed. He listened to her breathing, and glanced at her occasionally. He waited to be sure no signs of another nightmare came, and that Sera would sleep soundly. Once he was confident she was fast asleep, Hunter planned to quietly leave the room and go back to sleep.

Once he shifted though, he felt fingers grip his wrist. He turned to glance at Sera. She wasn’t awake, but when he moved she reached out and grabbed him. Hunter tried to peel her fingers off, but she shifted in the bed, only tightening her grip.

Who knew she could get so attached?

Hunter gave up on leaving, already entranced by watching her sleep. He did, however, feel too uncomfortable with sitting on her bed any longer, so he instead reached over to a chair just a few feet away and pulled it up. He settled in, leaving his arm on the bed that Sera would not release. The chair and his body were parallel to the bed, and he continued to watch her carefully, ready to chase away any nightmares that came.

#tbb #the bad batch #clone force 99 #hunter #oc story #jedi oc #tcw #the clone wars #star wars

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miss-bvnny · 3 years

Text

Yet another fan tweaks up TLK 2 and TLG: The Squeakel.

Im bored and in a lil pain. time to jot down all my personal ideas/headcanons for how I'd polish up TLK 2 and TLG to fit with the first movie a bit better, and create something more cohesive since like only about 3 people on the TLK2 and TLG teams paid attention to the first movie. I've seen a lot of hedcanons and AUS and whatnot in my day so I've kinda got a good idea of what i like and what I think might work better. Veteran TLK creators please interact with me and gib feedeback on my sick tricks

Uhhh TW for abuse and cub death

So...while there's TECHNICALLY nothing I'd change about the first movie, as it's pretty much done and solid, I wanted to play with my ideas for Zira's backstory.

YES in my version it'd be a one-sided love, kinda like how DemiiDee on dA and Silver-Wolf-17/@mask-of-prime see it, Scar knew she was obsessed with him since the day she met him as a cub, and took advantage of that. After he became king, he wanted loyal lionesses just in case Sarabi, Nala, Sarafina and the others got wise and rebelled. Zira and her pride sisters were all starving, and he knew that. He welcomed them in, promising food and comfort in return for their loyalty. Zira didn't hesitate to agree, and Scar loved her blind adoration of him. He WOULD have liked it if someone like Sarafina was so blindly in love with him (Scar had a gross unrequited obsessive crush on Sarafina growing up, and he constantly held it against her after she chose to be with Nala's father Mega instead. This is another reason why he was so hard on the hunting parties. He used his position as king to get petty revenge on childhood bullies and the like). Scar decided Zira would be his queen but like...ONLY because Sarafina had already made her choice. Zira didn't care, and knew she'd make Scar proud and produce a lot of wonderful heirs for him, in order to repay him for ''all he'd done for her'' (A very thin and insincere ''all'' if you ask me). So, Zira gets pregnant with who will eventually be Nuka, but...Rafiki takes a look at her and sees she's very weak and will probably only have one cub. Oh well. Let's just hope this one son is a suitable heir in Scar's eyes.

....Well-

Nuka's born. Weak, unfocused, and not at all what Scar wanted or was hoping for. He TRIES to teach Nuka and raise him as an Heir, but...it just doesn't work. Scar believes he was destined for greatness and for a prosperous, strong lineage. Nuka is none of those things, and it seems Zira will never be able to give him another heir (I KNOW the ''This woman can't have kids'' trope is icky but HOLD ON wait until you see where I'm going with this) Scar disowns Nuka and scolds Zira for disappointing him. Zira begs for his forgiveness, and swears on her life she'll find a way to make things worth Scar's while.

During this time, several of the male cubs who were born around the same time as Simba are being exiled. Scar doesn't want any males around to threaten overtaking him, and nips the problem in the bud before it ever becomes an issue. Many pride sister saw him doing this, and while they disagreed with it...it DID offer one bonus: Trustworthy males were leaving for better lands. They could take the new young cubs with them, since none of the sisters wanted their children to be raised in Scar's Pridelands.

Surprisingly, one of these lionesses trying to save her cubs...was Zira. Within the last few months, she'd...began to realize perhaps she was looking at Scar with rose-colored glasses. She was beginning to wonder if perhaps she was wrong to worship him the way she did. The thoughts were still kinda...new, and she wasn't sure what to do. But, during all her confusion, she DID happen to meet another male lion. Mpendwa, (Swahili for ''Honey'') was an old friend from her teenage years who was a wanderer by nature. Zira was VERY happy to see him again, after all these years. She met with him in secret, when Scar and the Hyenas weren't looking, and began to fall in love with him. REAL love. Mutual good love, where he loved her for who she was, and NOT what she could give him. Even Nuka seemed to like him, too! And...by some miracle, Zira and Mpendwa had a secret litter together! Four beautiful, healthy little cubs! It was perfect. SO perfect. Perhaps the problem had lain not in Zira, but in Scar the entire time. It served as more confirmation to Zira that...perhaps she was in the wrong to love him. Mpendwa asked her if she and their four cubs would come with him. Somewhere far and somewhere safe, where they could be happy together. Zira...was hesitant, afraid of disappointing Scar further, and even more afraid to leave her pride sisters behind. They were in this because of her, and...there were so many of them that it'd be impossible to get all of them out without Scar seeing something was up. Nevertheless, she knew she had to think about the future of her cubs, and NOT about Scar. She agreed, and plans were made for Zira and Nuka to meet Mpendwa at the border with her four cubs. In the dead of night, they'd leave using the rest of the evacuating males as a cover so they could make a clean getaway.

....Well...to make a very heartbreaking and gruesome story short...Scar knew about Mpendwa the entire time. And of course he saw Zira was pregnant. He overheard their plains to escape, and prepared accordingly. Mpendwa and three of Zira's cubs were killed as punishment for her disloyalty and attempt at mutiny. He lets her keep the youngest one alive as a reminder of her shortcomings, but ONLY if she'll swear her loyalty to him once more. With nothing else left to do, she swore her allegiance to him, and returned to the Pridelands with only Vitani and Nuka left of her family. In the coming days and months, Scar turns up the charm to further entice Zira, making sure she and Vitani are given the best of everything and taken care of, to ensure she feels terrible about what she did and she never acts out again. Sadly, it works, and Zira falls back in love with him, realizing SHE was the one in the wrong, and was an utter fool to betray Scar. Things are....steady for a while. Not bad, not good, but...steady for Zira and Scar. He of course ignores both cubs, and Zira has to reach out to him pleadingly if she wants to connect with him. Zira works as a willing mouthpiece to spout propaganda tot he rest of the pride, assuring then Scar is a GREAT king, their ONLY king, and that he will usher in a new golden age for them all. It pleases Scar and he is sure to...ever so slightly reciprocate his gratitude to her. If only to keep her totally convinced to stay with him. Zira can see he's...flaky and not too sure about her, and decides she MUST act fast to show him she is worthy.

She MUST somehow produce him a viable heir. And quickly. But with all the other males gone, there's not a whole lot of cubs being born. And her beloved Mpendwa is long dead. So...she has to figure something else out. One day, while hunting for Vitani and Nuka on her own, she runs across a skinny dark brown lone lioness taking a dead zebra somewhere. She tells Nuke and Vitani to wait, and begins to stalk this female, named Jibu (''Answer'') Jibu takes her kill to a secluded spot, and Zira notices she's having trouble catching her breath. It doesn't take Zira long to see...Jibu is pregnant. VERY pregnant, and close to giving birth. GIVING birth, actually! She's going into labor. Jibu cries out for mercy, knowing she is alone and there is no one around to help her. Zira, in a moment of maternal instinct and compassion, helps her. She, along with Nuka and Vitani, stay by Jubi's side as she gives birth to one little brown cub. Then, Zira gets...a really really REALLY terrible idea, just looking at the little cub. Calmly, she tells Vitani and Nuka that Jibu will need some water, and that they need to bring some back for her in some fresh moss. It's a big job, and the cubs are BOTH very willing to help. Vitani and Nuka leave on their big mission, and then Zira, Jibu, and the new cub are left alone.

Zira is quick about it. Merciful, even. By the time Nuka and Vitani get back, Jibu is dead. Zira sorrowfully tells the cubs that...the birthing process was simply too much for a weak and skinny loner like her, and that there was nothing at all that could have been done. Nuka asks what they're going to do with the cub, and Zira says she SUPPOSES they could take it back to the pride, as well as the zebra Jibu just killed. They return to the pridelands with food, and...Zira presents the cub to Scar. She tells him that his mother gave birth on the edge of the territory, before succumbing to her dehydration and fatigue. Scar looks the cub over, and is overjoyed. He declares THIS cub, this Kovu, WILL be his heir.

So, time passes, and before you know it, Simba returns. The TRUE Pridelanders rise up and reclaim their land. In the wake of his return, Zira's pride sisters see the error of their ways, and oppose the hyenas in battle. Scar is overthrown, and Simba takes his place as King. Zira is of course horrified, outraged, and...filled with a turmoil of emotions about it. Some part of her feels...free that Scar is gone, but the rest of her was so twisted by his words that she doesn't want to admit she's happy he's dead. She chokes those feelings down, trying to sit still and look pretty for Simba as he moves in. Nuka, Vitani, and little Kovu are doing well, and...as a mother that's all she should care about, really. But...deep down inside, there's a growing, growling, burning need for revenge in her soul.

As Kovu grows a little bigger and the pridelands heal more, Simba and Nala announce the birth of their OWN heir.....Kopa. Yep. Yes. That's right, I'm a Kopa theorist. Upsetting, I know. But like....it makes sense. Look at how overprotective and suffocating Simba was to Kiara in TLK 2. Almost like he'd dealt with tragedy in relation to a cub before, and vowed to never let it happen again. Huh. If YOU'RE reading this and you have no idea who Kopa is and the drama behind his very existence, first of all God I wish I was you, secondly, go here to learn what then entire TLK fandom is divided over:

https://disney.fandom.com/wiki/Kopa

Anyway, Kopa is begins to grow and learn as the next king of Pride Rock, good friends with Nuka and Vitani, and even their cute little brother Kovu. He's not...VERY old right now, but he'll grow and be able to play with them one day! Their mom, Zira, seems....a little upset about stuff. She always watches them from afar, never engages with the rest of the Pride, and doesn't seem to like Simba. Kopa, as a young kid determined to be a great king, takes a note to keep an eye on this. She might be really old, but she's part of his father's kingdom. Everyone else is happy and healthy, she should be too, right? Simba and Nala seem...worried about her as well. For different reasons, but yeah.

Ever the hunter and woman scorned, Zira has been...studying Kopa. He's young and naive, but...eager to learn and take over for his father. He's studious and intuitive, often finding trouble without meaning to, because he was trying to solve a problem or get involved in pride politics. Of course, all the other lions and creatures love him, and are eager to see him grow into a fine future king. There s NO doubt he's a jewel in his family's crown. But...he is still a cub. Zira remembers how devastated she was to lose Vitani's three siblings, and knows that Simba and Nala will be equally devastated if....something happens to Kopa. She knows exactly how she's going to avenge Scar now.

Simba and Nala were out on a little moonlight hunt together one night, like they enjoyed to do together. They were coming back to Pride Rock afterwards, only to hear a terrible commotion. Zazu rushed to meet them, telling of something terrible that had just happened: Zira tried to assassinate the young prince. Her pride sisters were now in arms against Sarabi and her pride sisters, trying to stop an attempted uprising. Simba and Nala quickly joined in to fight, Simba finding Zira with Kopa in her jaws. He stops her, and Timon and Pumbaa are quick to get Kopa to Rafiki for healing. Simba and Nala face off against Zira while she gives her side of the story. telling about how she's tired of being docile and pretending her heart isn't broken after Simba and Nala both took everything from her. Simba and Nala both see she's still...terribly twisted by Scar's words, trying to be patient but firm with her as they attempt to talk her down. She won't have it, and leaps at Simba, Nala gets involved, and they fight her off. Simba calls for her banishment, and she is thrown out of the Pridelands with the rest of her followers, and her three cubs.

During all of this, Rafiki is attending to Kopa and his injuries. They're...bad, but not fatal. With time, he'll be just fine. Zira left him blind in one eye, gave him a terribly ripped ear, nearly tore his tail off, and he's got a deep throat scar that will alter his voice quite a bit. With time he'll be alright physically, but...I'm not so sure about mentally. Kopa has...a LOT of PTSD over it. blaming himself for how he thought Zira was a friend he could help, wondering if he was stupid for never seeing her anger sooner. He begins to question his abilities as a future king. Yes, he's still young, and accidents happen, but...this event has left him a bit jaded all the same. Simba and Nala see it, and...want to do the best for their son. They can see the enthusiasm in his eyes to one day be king fading. It's devastating. And...while Simba isn't about to give up on him, he doesn't want to force Kopa into something he...clearly doesn't want to do anymore. On top of that...Simba fears Kopa may not be safe in the Pridelands anymore. Zira and her followers ARE in the Outlands, but...Zira is bold and full of hate. There's no telling what she could do next. After a lot of deliberation, meeting with Zazu, Nala, and Kopa...the king comes to a conclusion. He strips Kopa of his title as an heir, and sends him to live in the Oasis with Ma, Uncle Max, and the rest of Timon's family. He'll be safe and well-fed there, far away from Zira. It'll only be for a while, until the trouble with the outlanders settles down, and until Kopa is ready to return home. Kopa agrees to the idea whole-heartledy, and departs for the Oasis as soon as he's fit to travel. It's...painful and hard, but it's the best option for their son's mental health. Simba and Nala do visit often, and are glad to see it DOES seem to be working.

Okay. So Zira tried to kill Kopa in the name of Scar, got herself booted, and the origins of her three cubs have been dealt with. That's all the Zira/Scar and Kopa backstory stuff done and dealt with. I'm gonna cut it right here since this is gettin awful lengthy, and continue with TLK 2 and The Lion Guard in a part 2. Keep an eye out for that one.

#the lion king #the lion king 2 #neato after dark

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thetomorrowshow · 3 years

Text

unless you take your army back ch. 2

First chapter - Read on AO3!

This chapter is a lot longer than I thought it was that’s my bad

cw: blood, intense depictions of injuries, food, flashbacks

When Crutchie woke, it was with a heaviness in the pit of his stomach. He knew that while he was not waking up from a nightmare, he would be waking into one. Another day either working hard for nothing or locked in a tiny closet, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Something was different, though. For one thing, he wasn’t quite sure where he was. He was on something soft, which couldn’t count as any surface in the Refuge. Not only that, but he didn’t feel squished or anything. There wasn’t anyone else near him, which crossed off the idea that he’d been dragged back to the room full of boys, but there was plenty of room to stretch out, so definitely not in a closet.

Maybe he had died.

As he became more aware of his body, though, he still felt pained--so probably not dead. He used to visit a church when he’d been on the streets by himself, less for concern of his mortal soul and more for the communion wafers and occasional Sunday afternoon luncheons, but he’d listened to what had been taught there. Apparently, if he died and went to Heaven he’d be healed. He had to be going to Heaven, right? He’d been baptized as a baby, after all. He didn’t really believe in it these days, but that didn’t mean he was a bad person.

He would’ve continued wondering about the fate of his soul had he not tried to flex his fingers and found both hands immobile--not because of the pain in them, but because his fingers were all wrapped up. So was his left arm, actually, which was distantly throbbing.

Reluctantly, Crutchie forced his eyes to open, grimacing at how crusty they felt. Light flooded his vision and he closed them almost immediately, then opened them a pinch.

He had no clue where he was. All he could see was a wooden ceiling. How was that supposed to help him?

It smelled sort of familiar, but it was also silent, aside from a bird chirping outside the window--which was right beside him. Actually, as he took a bigger breath (not too big, his chest was all tight and achy), he recognized something small--and then so many things, all in the scent of the air.

This was the lodging house, and with it, the smell of the soap they all used, Race’s cigar, newspapers, coffee, sweat, and that weird cologne that Jack and Romeo sometimes spent a few pennies on. He was home.

Crutchie let out a sigh. He was exhausted. Maybe he could just go back to sleep.

“Crutchie?”

So much for that idea. Crutchie shifted his vision a little, wincing as his neck cramped. Jack was sat there beside him, charcoal pencil frozen where it was poised on a paper. He looked okay, aside from a black eye. He also looked scared, for some reason, almost guilty. What had happened? Why was Crutchie at the lodging house? Why did Jack look like he was hiding something?

Crutchie decided to not bring it up at the moment, but couldn’t stop wondering. He didn’t remember all of what had happened since he’d been awoken the other morning by the Refuge kids with a cup of water, but he had vague recollections of beatings and closets and being trapped under the floor. He could also remember seeing Katherine, but that part might have been a hallucination. More importantly, he couldn’t remember how he’d gotten here and what had made Snyder let him go. If Jack had traded someone--

“How’re ya feeling?” Jack asked, and Crutchie could hear his words dripping with fatigue. He wondered how long he’d been out, that Jack had been sitting at his side for.

Crutchie opened his mouth, lips cracking, and paused at the pain that came when he tried to make his voice work. Something was up--Synder, chokin’ you, his brain reminded him. Also no water, dummy. They does that to a voice.

As if Jack knew what he was thinking, he shot up, the paper falling and pencil rolling away. “Gotcha some water waitin’,” he said, taking a few steps out of Crutchie’s line of sight and returning with a tin cup and a bowl. “Also had one o’ the fellas grab some soup from the sistas, so you can has somethin’ ta eat.” He frowned down at the bowl. “It ain’t too warm now, but it should still taste all right.”

Crutchie had the feeling that he ought to smile in thanks, but just couldn’t. He couldn’t even fathom lifting his cheeks that much--they felt oddly large and heavy. His head was pretty cloudy, anyway. It probably wouldn’t even be able to send the instructions to his mouth. Jack held the cup to his lips and he drank--the water was a bit warm, but far better than nothing--begrudgingly, wishing he could hold it himself.

As soon as all the water was gone, Jack was digging a spoon out of his pocket, preparing to feed him. If he had the energy, Crutchie would’ve sputtered in indignation. He could feed himself, thank you very much! He hadn’t let no one feed him except his mother, and that was too long ago for him to remember (he casually shoved down the image of Harley feeding him bites of sandwich, back at the Refuge).

“I can feeds myself,” he croaked out, feeling just that small movement of his mouth stretch his cheeks farther than normal. They must’ve been pretty swollen. Some of the anxious creases around Jack's eyes smoothed out.

“I know ya can,” Jack said, relief evident in his voice. “Lemme help ya sit up, then.”

Crutchie wanted to sit up himself, but he conceded this to Jack. He had to pick his battles, especially when he was so tired.

He gasped when Jack buried his arm under his back, the lashes and memories of them barraging him with agony. Jack pulled away as if he was the one who had been whipped, watching him warily. Crutchie scrunched his eyes closed, trying to stop a tear that was threatening to slip out. He wasn’t weak. He had to show Jack that he could do this.

“Want--want me to, uh, pull ya up by the arm?” Jack offered, and Crutchie nodded jerkily. That sounded bearable; his right arm wasn’t hurt all that bad.

As soon as Jack touched him, though, fear stole Crutchie’s breath. Images of thugs gripping his wrist and dragging him along on dirty floors filled his mind, and he cowered, pulling his body as close together as he could.

Someone was speaking, and Crutchie was about to ignore it until he realized the price he might pay for not following orders. His eyes shot open, his heart racing with a frenzy that seemed to pound on his broken ribs.

“--okay? Kath said your ribs got beat pretty bad, an’ it might be hard for you ta sit up. You good, Crutch?”

That was Jack. That was Jack speaking, and he wasn’t in the Refuge, he was at the lodging house. He just sat up to eat some soup. He was safe.

No matter how many times Crutchie repeated those words to himself, he couldn’t let go of the dark halls of the Refuge, the stink of the guards’ cigars, the pain that was coming at any moment.

“I’s fine,” he gritted out, forcing himself to meet Jack’s eyes. “Jus’, yeah, little bit o’ pain.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say, so just let it hang in the air between them.

Eventually, Jack helped him form his right hand around the bowl as steady as possible, then stabilized it as he brought it to his lips and drank. It bumped against his cheeks uncomfortably. It was little more than broth, and lukewarm, but Crutchie was grateful for it all the same. The taste of it alone nearly made him sob--the flavor was just so much--but he held it in.

Jack made him drink over half of the bowl before letting him lay back down, which was a much quicker operation than sitting up had been. When he was settled back in the bed, full to bursting and a little more clear on what was happening, he finally asked one of the questions that had been on his mind since he woke.

“Jack? What happened?”

Jack shifted from foot to foot. “With what?”

Crutchie sighed, pulling down his shirt a little to see what was under it. A lot of bandages and some bruises was the answer. “The strike, I s’pose.”

“Right, the strike.” Jack sat down, crossing one leg over the other. “Uh, well, we won.”

Crutchie’s heart leaped. They won? Against Pulitzer, and Wiesel, and the Delanceys, and Snyder, and all the police officers? Once again, he felt that he should smile, but just couldn’t find the energy. “Wow,” he said instead, swallowing around the pain in his throat. They had won. “How’d you get me out?”

There wasn’t an answer from Jack for a long time, and after a moment Crutchie looked over at him. He was looking down, cap in his hands, twisting it around anxiously.

“Governor Roosevelt,” he said, not looking up. His voice was unreadable. “Kath got him ta shut down the Refuge, for good. Ain’t nobody goin’ back there.”

Wow. They really won. How had that even happened? Crutchie couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that there would be no more Snyder chasing kids on the street. There had to be someone, right? Someone else who wanted to hurt kids for the fun of it?

“Y-you awake, buddy?”

Crutchie blinked, realizing his eyes had closed. “Yeah,” he whispered. Jack was watching him again, his eyes red. “Jus’ . . . jus’ tired.” And he was. He felt like if he didn’t sleep soon, he might just fade away. Even now, he wouldn’t be surprised if he slept for a week straight. He was so tired.

“Sleep, nitwit. Ya gots the time.”

Crutchie gladly accepted the invitation.

“Shh! Ya don’t want ‘im wakin’ up, do ya?”

“A little bit, yeah!”

“We wants to see ‘im!”

Crutchie groaned. The voices quieted down for a second with a few hushed gasps and shushes, then started up again when he made no effort to move. This bed was almost unbearably comfortable.

“C’mon, Jack! He’s practic’ly a’ready awake.”

“Yeah, but he ain’t. He’s restin’, he don’t need you lot tirin’ him out.”

“It’s our room too.”

“Yeah! You has to let us in, who put you in charge?”

“. . . You’s all did, Romeo.”

Crutchie snorted through his nose, then opened his eyes. He still felt bone tired, but a little like he could function. He turned his head, slowly this time, to see Jack a few feet away, holding back a good dozen newsies. Once they saw him moving, their faces lit up excitedly. Elmer pointed, hopping a little bit, and Jack looked over his shoulder to meet Crutchie’s eyes.

Immediately, he dropped his defenses and rushed to Crutchie’s side. He produced a tin cup from nowhere--and a different one from earlier?--and pushed it to his lips. “Hey, Crutch. How ya feelin’?”

Crutchie sipped and rolled his eyes, coughing a little when that sent a headache pounding. “Bit better,” he managed through his swollen jaw, pulling away from the drink. “Why’s my arm not workin’?”

Jack’s face flashed guiltily. “‘S broken,” he said, brushing hair out of Crutchie’s face. “Katherine said you’ll be wrapped up in it about three weeks, maybe more.”

Crutchie frowned. How was he supposed to sell? His right arm needed to hold his crutch, so what was supposed to be waving around the papers? His thoughts were interrupted by Jack making him drink some more water.

“I gots more food here, for ya,” Jack began. “Don’t want ya goin’ hungry. And then--”

“Jack?”

Jack went silent instantly, looking so intensely at Crutchie that he started to wonder if Jack thought he was dying. Maybe he was dying. He certainly felt like it. He shook himself. “Can I see the fellas?”

Jack turned around. The newsies, still standing in the middle of the room, waved.

“Yeah, why not,” he said, pulling his hat off and running a hand through his hair. “One at a time, though,” he added when they all began to rush forward. “You’s gonna give him a heart attack, all o’ you’s at once.”, during which Crutchie propped himself up into almost a sitting position. His bad leg was almost completely deadweight, and it hurt like he’d stuck it in a bonfire. Still, he dragged it up a little bit, trying to make room for another boy to sit on the bed. Breathing sitting up made his chest burn and back smart, but he could deal with it for right now. He just wanted to see his friends.

Specs sat down first, smiling in that gentle way of his. “Hey, Crutch,” he said. “Lookin’ a bit worse than last time I seen ya, huh? Feelin’ any better?”

“Jus’ a bit, and okay, I guess,” Crutchie admitted, once again finding smiling to be too much effort. “Jack says we won, I think. How’s it feel?”

Specs sighed happily. “Feels free. Can’t wait to get ya outta bed and into the streets, see how ‘cited the boys are ‘bout sellin’.”

“Me neither,” Crutchie said. Specs nodded, then patted him awkwardly on the knee before standing up. He was almost immediately replaced by Race and Albert, Race falling onto the bed with flourish, Albert standing beside it with his thumbs in his suspenders.

“Feelin’ any better, Crutchie?” Albert asked. Crutchie waved his arm.

“Loads,” he said, trying to not make any sounds as Race jostled him. “Bet I’ll be up sellin’ papes with you’s in no time.”

Albert guffawed; Race smiled a little piteously. “Glad to see that Crutchie spirit,” Race said, poking him in the side. Crutchie couldn’t help a gasp, bit his tongue too late to hide it. The smile completely dropped from both of their faces.

“Hey, uh,” Albert said, quieter than usual, “Race an’ I--we’s been there. Well, not there ‘xactly, but . . . that place. So we knows it’s hard to get better, an’ it takes time.”

They really didn’t know, Crutchie thought to himself as they stepped away. They didn’t have a public connection to Jack Kelly when they were in there, nor did they have a crippled leg. He was sure it was rough for them, but their experiences were not the same, and he didn’t much appreciate them comparing the two.

“Hey Crutchie! Feelin’ any better?” Elmer.

“I’d feel better if people would stop askin’ me that,” Crutchie grumbled. Elmer laughed, his eyes lighting up.

“Les an’ Davey an’ me made you this,” he said, holding something out. He dropped it in Crutchie’s lap, who stiffly picked it up with bandaged fingers and examined it closely. It was a loop of yarns, braided together in blue, green, and brown to make a bracelet.

“You don’t gotta put it on your wrist now,” Elmer said, obviously proud. “But we all made it! You can sees where I started braidin’ after Les, ‘cuz it gets better there.”

Crutchie felt tears pricking at his eyes as he looked, and yep--there was a section where it went from messy to a little less so. “Thanks, Elmer. I’m . . . I’m touched.” he glanced up into his face, seeing it split into a huge smile. “You wanna put it on my wrist? My fingers ain’t workin’ so well.”

Elmer did so with care, not even hopping back when Crutchie flinched at the touch. Then he gave a little bow and a wave, and darted off.

Next up were Romeo and Henry, who awkwardly told him about their day and asked about his. Seeing as how Crutchie had been unconscious for the majority of the day, there wasn’t much conversation to be made on his end. It was nice to hear about what they’d been doing, though. Crutchie could usually see Romeo from his selling spot, and they sometimes sold together.

“Some o’ the regulars is askin’ after you,” Romeo told him with a pat on the shoulder. Crutchie didn’t have the energy to hide his wince. “Told ‘em they oughtta be proud o’ you, you took on the Delanceys and won!”

Crutchie choked. “I ain’t done anything of the sort!” he sputtered. Romeo chuckled.

“I’m a newsie, what can I say?” he shrugged and patted his shoulder again, then wandered off with a bit of a dazed look on his face. Henry gave him a quick goodbye and followed.

Tommy Boy was just saying hello when Jack began to usher them out, saying something about how they needed to go run off their energy somewhere not here. For once, Crutchie was grateful for Jack’s motherhenning. He felt like he was going to shake right out of his body. The newsies were a tactile bunch, and normally Crutchie had no problem with that, but today it made his skin crawl and his brain go bleary. He’d also never been troubled by crowds of any size, but the room was beginning to feel unbearably full and loud.

When he looked up again, everyone but Jack was gone--and Katherine? When had she come in?

Not another person, Crutchie thought, then immediately felt bad. Jack had mentioned her a few times, and he inferred that she was sort of the person who got him out. He could have the civility to talk to her.

“Crutchie, how are you feeling?” Katherine asked, hurrying over. Crutchie bit his tongue to keep from responding rudely.

Katherine looked him over, the smile in her words slowly fading as she took him in. Finally, she met his eyes, and nodded. “Jack was right, you’re looking a lot better than yesterday.”

“Thanks, I think?” Crutchie said, something catching in his sore throat and causing him to cough violently. His chest seized up, his body wracked with agony at the pain that came from the shuddering coughs. When he recovered enough to open his eyes, Jack was holding the cup of water right under his nose.

“Don’ be gettin’ sick on me, Crutchie,” Jack said, sounding more worried than teasing. Crutchie swallowed down the last of the water and coughed one more time.

“I’s gettin’ sick just ta spite you, now,” Crutchie said weakly. Katherine and Jack both laughed, a little wildly, a little wrong. That bothered him, in ways that he couldn’t quite put together. Why didn’t they sound normal?

Something in the smell of the room was starting to make him feel sick. Had he eaten anything since the scraps that one morning? He had, hadn’t he? Jack had given him something earlier. Well, at least he knew there was something in his stomach to be tossed up if it came to that. That had to be easier on his throat than dry heaves.

“Crutchie, you heard that the Refuge has been shut down for good, haven’t you?” asked Katherine, trying to find somewhere to pat him kindly. She settled on the edge of the mattress.

Wait, what?

The Refuge? Shut down--for good? That wasn’t possible, was it? Snyder had a perfect reputation with the city. They’d never shut down a place that worked so well because a few teenage boys told them to.

“It what?” he said out loud, looking between Jack and Katherine, hoping to see some sign of humor. They had to be pulling his leg. Katherine only nodded, though, and Jack gave him a concerned glance.

“I told ya that already,” Jack said. “Remember? This mornin’?”

Crutchie thought back. Maybe? He remembered pieces of their conversation, but it was pretty blurry. He also remembered seeing a lizard crawl up the windowpane. He’d assumed it was a dream, but maybe it had actually happened. That was pretty cool.

“Anyway, I showed Governor Roosevelt some of Jack’s drawings,” Katherine pushed on. “He investigated it immediately, and went personally to shut it down and arrest that awful man!”

“The governor,” Crutchie repeated, dumbfounded. Jack had ridden in the back of his carriage once. Had he met the governor and not even been conscious?

Now that he thought about it, though, he had vague flashes . . . a man with a mustache saying something to someone out of sight . . . the same man holding water for him to drink . . . had he met the governor and let the man baby him?

“The doctor said he doesn’t know what your recovery will look like, but he thinks you’ll make a full one if nothing gets infected,” Katherine told him, and Crutchie was torn from his mortification to incredulation.

“A doctor?” He couldn’t afford a doctor! He didn’t even have enough money saved to miss more than a few days of work, how would he--

“Don’t worry,” Katherine said, waving him off with a little laugh, “Governor Roosevelt handled the cost. You were concerned about it when it happened, too.”

Crutchie made himself relax a little bit. He couldn’t turn down a free handout in his condition, especially not from the governor. The governor.

“And, speaking of. . . .” Katherine trailed off, looking uncomfortable. Jack took her hand and gave her a strained smile. Crutchie looked at the two of them. Were they together?! Why had no one told him?

“I sort of need to change your bandages,” Katherine said apologetically. Crutchie blanched, and she hurried to add, “It’ll be quick! Just clean wrappings--” she waved a bag-- “and some soap and water, then you can rest.”

Yeah, sure, but there was a huge problem. Katherine was a girl. It wasn’t that she was weak for being a girl or anything, but Crutchie really didn’t want to subject a lady to the mess that was his body right now. Or anyone, for that matter. In fact, if they could both just leave the room and give him the bandages and stinging stuff, he’d get it done himself.

When he tried to tell Katherine just that, she snorted. “Crutchie, no offense, but I don’t think you could beat a toddler with pneumonia in a fight right now. There’s no way you could do this yourself, or any way you could stop me or one of the others doing it for you.”

Crutchie’s blood ran cold. He couldn’t stop them. She was right. They could do anything they wanted to him, and he was powerless to do anything. They wouldn’t even need to hold him down.

Crutchie only nodded when she asked him if she could change his bandages, his throat completely dry. Jack watched him for a moment, and Crutchie tried to not look back. He didn’t want Jack to see how petrified he was. After a moment, Jack made up some nonsense excuse about checking on the other boys and left.

Left to get them, probably. Or maybe something to hit him with. Or both. After all, he was a pretty easy target right about now, who wouldn’t want a go? He could barely move, let alone fight back. Crutchie’s stomach turned as an image of Race taking bets on how long he’d be conscious forced itself into his head.

“Can you sit up all the way, Crutchie?” Katherine asked, and he cringed. They were going to make him sit up? Were they going to make him move from this bed, too? It was Jack’s, he’d realized earlier. Jack probably wanted it back.

He pushed himself up, slowly, agonizingly. His head pounded and his back throbbed and his stomach wouldn’t stop sloshing around the water in it, but he sat up anyway, slowly adjusting so that his legs hung off the bed. By the time he was fully sitting up (hunching over like he wanted to made it harder to breathe) Crutchie had broken a light sweat, his hair sticking a little to the back of his neck. Katherine wouldn’t hurt him, right? She was a girl, and she was upper-class. They made other people do that for them.

“I’m going to start with this cut on your cheek, okay? It looks like it’s fine, I just want to make sure it’s clean.”

Crutchie braced himself, closing his eyes. He just wanted to sleep for a little bit longer. Couldn’t it go back to Jack softly giving him water and drawing while he dozed? That was nice. That was safe. Couldn’t they do that for just a little bit longer before they got to all the bad stuff?

Katherine’s touch on his face made him flinch back, but that was all it was. A touch. A piece of wet cloth, rubbed on his cheek. It wasn’t too bad, so far. It was almost a little nice.

“Your forehead’s pretty warm,” he heard her say, distantly. He didn’t respond. It was taking all his effort to stay still and upright.

Crutchie tried to retreat to the back of his mind as he felt Katherine undoing the buttons on his shirt, but he couldn’t get out of here. He was straining his ears to hear something, anything--the boys bounding upstairs, or cheering, or something like that that would give him time to prepare for what was to come.

He was broken out of it, though, when his already aching chest burst into flames. He cried out, opened his eyes--Katherine was holding a red-stained cloth, looking apologetic.

“I’m so sorry,” she murmured, “but one of your cuts is infected. It’s going to hurt a bit. Do you think you can focus on me?”

Crutchie would’ve laughed if he wasn’t busy taking as shallow breaths as possible. He could barely focus on anything. He looked down to see the patchwork of bruises and scrapes that was his chest, and saw that yes, the largest one looked irritated and weepy. That one had been giving him trouble from the first day.

Something touched his hand and he started, then stared down at it. Katherine was holding his hand. Why?

“We can wait until you’re ready,” she said, and Crutchie wasn’t sure that he would ever be ready, but nodded as a go-ahead.

He watched now as Katherine gently and carefully cleaned each wound, calming more with each reassuring squeeze of her hand when the liquid stung. Something about her hand in his was comforting, almost grounding. It was as if his perception had been blurred with panic, and her hand cleared the mist enough that he could ground himself against the contact and the quiet openness of the room. He was alive.

Instead of making him move, Katherine climbed over the bed in a very unladylike manner and dressed the marks on his back. This was worse. With no one to hold onto and no way to see what was happening, Crutchie dug the sore fingers of his right hand into his left upper arm. It gave him a sensation to focus on that wasn’t the painful touches on his back, something that he could control. That helped, a little bit. What didn’t help was the fact that Crutchie couldn’t stop staring at the door, waiting for it to burst open at any minute.

Katherine wrapped his torso and helped him get his shirt back on before moving down to his legs, which made Crutchie even more uncomfortable. He tried to shift away, even told her he could do this part, despite knowing full well that he was about two minutes from passing out. She was a lady, it was improper.

Katherine was sympathetic. “I can go get Jack,” she offered. “Or one of the other boys, if you’re more comfortable with that.”

No. No no no no no no no. Couldn’t they do this for a little while longer first? Just Katherine holding his hand and cleaning his chest. She seemed to see his panic, because she immediately softened.

“How about this,” she said. “I’ll only do from the knees down, and then I’ll turn around while you clean the rest, okay?” Crutchie nodded. That sounded okay. Embarrassing, of course, but so much better than the alternative.

Katherine pulled one of the blankets from where it was tucked in and draped it over his legs. With her steadying him, Crutchie managed to get his pants down to his ankles, then let her take over, his face burning. She was a girl, after all. It felt so wrong, to let her clean his legs.

She made quick work of it though, and handed Crutchie the brown bottle of what seemed to be soapy water and the cloth before turning around. He watched her for a moment, making sure she wasn’t going to peek, then quickly yet haltingly rubbed the cloth along his thighs. There luckily was nothing more than bruises and a single cut there, and he was done in a few minutes. By that point, he could barely hold his head up. Instead of pulling his pants back on, he just fell back against the bed, groaning.

Katherine tucked him back in, resting a hand on his forehead again. “Do you think you have a fever?”

That would make a bit of sense, wouldn’t it? It was the middle of summer, it had to be sweltering out, and here he was under three blankets with the window closed. He was sure he had other symptoms too, but he didn’t really remember, so he just shrugged and closed his eyes.

Katherine sighed, rubbing his fingers. “Crutchie, I need you to stay awake for a few minutes. Jack’s bringing you something to eat.”

Crutchie forced his eyes back open. He didn’t want to be awake. He’d been tired this whole time and now his body felt like it was going to fall apart. As if summoned, though, the door at the other end of the room creaked open, and in came Jack, holding a bowl in one hand and some bread in the other.

“I sent Sniper down ta Jacobi’s,” he said by way of introduction. Crutchie tried to move his arms, but they felt weighed down. He didn’t really want to eat, he wanted to sleep. He really wanted to sleep, actually, so badly that he felt his eyes begin to burn with tears. Why weren’t they letting him sleep?

There was bread in front of him and Crutchie stared at it uncomprehendingly. What was he supposed to do with that? He couldn’t take it, his arms weren’t moving.

He blinked and it had been replaced by a bowl of something, which gradually came closer as he watched. Someone wormed a hand underneath his neck to prop his head up, making him shiver and twitch. He didn’t like that at all, but there was nothing he could do. Maybe now they were going to beat him. At least he’d probably be too out of it to notice.

The bowl pressed against his lips and Crutchie opened his mouth, choking as some of its liquid slipped down his throat. That was far more warm than he’d been expecting, not quite searing his tongue, but coming close to it. It drew back again, then more spilled into his mouth. This time, Crutchie drank, paying no mind to the flavor or temperature. He just hoped they would let him sleep after this.

Sure enough, with a few last drops of broth, the bowl was empty and the hand under his neck pulled away, leaving Crutchie to fall back against the pillow. Before his eyes were even closed, he was pulled into darkness.

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