#i hope its okay to double myself from reblogs

[reidslovely]

Something about helping frat!blonde! Peter touch up his roots. Like he calls you and reader must think its for hooking up purposes - then he surprises her w “can you. uh..retouchmyrootsplease” and she’s like “??? 🤨wat” and you just go over to his place and spend time with him, washing his hairr, he making eye contact with reader through the mirror, etc. But he’s still stubborn about his feelings so he’s like “this was a one time thing only don’t let it get to ya head”

sorry if this was jumbled I just had this in my head for a while now

Yes this idea is so so so so so cute. I have written something vaguely similar before but I love it so much I don't care to write it again

please reblog or comment in place of liking/hearting this post 🫶🏼

“Pete?” You questioned picking up your phone, your eyes locked on the clock that read 4:00pm. “It’s far too early for a booty call..what’s up pretty?” 

“Ya flatter bashful.” His chesty laugh could be heard on the other end of the phone. It sent your heart doubling in speed, your cheek pressed lovingly into your shoulder. 

“You still with me bashful? I need you to do me a favor.” 

“So this is a hookup call..you only ask me that if-” You're cut off by him rushing out a string of words. None of which you caught. “Pete..baby. I need you to breathe and say that again.” You laughed softly, already gathering your stuff up to head over to the Theta Tau. Regardless if this was a hookup situation or not you were tired of your homework and Peter always seems to take any type of stress away. 

“Can you uh..” There's an awkward cough and sigh. “Retouchmyrootsplease?” 

The questions still came out as one word this time around but at least you actually caught what he was saying. 

“Sure, Pete.” You tried not to laugh. “Do you have what you need or do we need to run by Sally?” 

“No, no I have everything here for you. Thanks for this.”

“Course Pete, anything for you.” You hung up before you could get any type of snarky reply. 

Peter’s blond locks were a new addition about three weeks into your situation ship and you absolutely loved them. They flattered his face, and made his little baby deer eyes even more baby deer like. Which made you want to kiss him even more, and made it hard to say no when he’s asking you for another round. 

“You’re literally the best for this. Just moved up to like number two in my ranking.”

It was a joke, you were easily number one if not the only girl in Peter’s ranking but you have to play along or else you’ll scare him away. 

“Offended, whose number one.”

“May..sorry.” Peter sighs dramatically, leading you up the stairs to his bathroom. Tossing a few nods and hey’s to his brothers walking down the steps. 

“Mhm can’t be mad at that.” 

Peter laughed sitting on the chair he’d tucked away in the bathroom, pulling off his shirt. 

“Awe did you go ahead and set everything up for me?”

“No I was gonna do it myself but that's how we ended up in this scenario in the first place.”

Peter would never admit to it but he had set everything up for you. He’d done it before he even picked up the phone: not that he knew you'd say yes but he could hope. 

“Mhm I see.” You hummed running your fingers through Peter’s hair. He grabbed his phone starting his music, looking at you in the mirror as you started sectioning his hair out. 

Admittedly the whole time he was locked on you. Every move you made he was locked on you, not wanting to miss a moment. His head lolled back as you ran; you painted the bleach on his roots. Earning soft little ‘stops’ and ‘hold your head up’ from you as he relaxed. Your eyes were fixed on his hair making sure you’re applying everything evenly and correctly. Peter held his phone up in the mirror snapping a quick photo of the two of you. The photo falling amongst the others he’s sneakily taken of you or the both of you that you had no clue about. 

“Okay you gotta sit for a while and then I’ll wash it, tone it, all that after.” You said sitting on the toilet lid next to him taking the gloves off, tossing them in the trash can. 

“This is nice.” 

Peter's comment threw you off, you two only really hung out in the context of having sex or it being mutually beneficial for both. You hated to admit you had more moments like this. 

“Yeah?” 

“Mhm no pressure, at least not for you. I still gotta make jokes and keep you entertained.” 

“Tragic.” You tsked resting your arm on the sink hand to head as your free hand started a 30 minute timer. 

“Come on, we have enough time to watch some of that Hulu cooking show you like.” Peter stood taking your hand in his walking to his room. You flopped down on Pete’s bed watching him sitting next to you. “Careful you’ll get bleach on your..”

“No no, I'm good sitting up.”

You nodded and laid your head on his lap watching The Bear, Pete’s fingers combing through your hair switching between watching the TV and you. 

Pete’s head was tilted back in the sink, a towel under his neck for comfort. “Stop looking down my shirt, Parker.” 

“I’m not…I’m not.” He lied, turning his eyes up to look at you as you shampooed after toning his hair. “Do I look fabulous?”

“Oh absolutely.” You laughed wrapping his hair up in a towel helping him sit up. Ruffling the towel through his hair you laughed watching it sticking up every which way. You blow dried it for him smiling and singing under your breath as you fixed his hair perfectly. 

“How do you feel Parker?” 

“Amazing..I look great thanks bashful.” He says turning around, capturing your hips in his hands. “Let's get dinner, and then we can come back here.” 

“I hate sex after dinner.” 

“No, no we come back here and finish the show.” 

“Oh I get to come back to the Theta house? And not have sex?” You fake a gasp of shock. 

“I know it’s a rare occurrence. This is a one time thing though, don’t let it get to ya head.” Pete taunts, hand rubbing your side grabbing his wallet off his dresser.

“Oh baby it has.” 

Peter knew and even in his playful disdain and stubborn personality you were slowly craving a spot out in his chest and making a home in it, and at this point he had no say in it.

___________

tags: @helloheyhihowdyheya @sincericida @moonyslove78 @a-lumos-in-the-nox @messymissy @adhdhufflepuff @toomanyfictionalboyfriends @ateliefloresdaprimavera @eevylynn

[raticalshoez]

reading ur last reblog and hidfhihs LIFE SERIES BUT POKEMON,,,instead of last person standing its last pokemon standing,,,worlds most painful nuzlocke speedrun ksjfdhslfh

Dude I was thinking of making fakemon based on Life Series members and like. This idea is so big brained...

So I don't have designs yet, but here's my ideas for the primary types they would be:

Grian - Flying

Bird motif, for the most part, but also idea of a bird's eye view, watching over, Watchers...lmao

Jimmy - Ghost

He has such a strong theme of death that I just had to dude...

Etho - Ice

What with the Snowfort and Red (Winter) Army, he has connections to snow and cold. Also ice is a bad type competetively and Etho washed up pvper...

Bdubs - Grass

Mossy guy! Also he likes the sun and uh photosynthesis..? (And he dropped a wither rose in Last Life)

Tango - Fire

It's his hair headcanons but also his love for explosives

Impulse - Electric

Caffeinated animated redstone innovator and also his color scheme!!

Lizzie - Fairy

She owned the Fairy Fort, so I feel like it's only fair. She also likes cute things but can be mean sometimes (like the fairy typing itself)

Gem - Fighting

GeminiSLAY, very competetive fighter

Pearl - Dark

Something wicked this way comes. But also, wrongfully seen as evil! Misunderstood like some dark types okay (ABSOL IS LITERALLY HER)

Scott - Water

Mean gills but also I'm pretty sure water's a pretty good typing competetively? Mainly cause mean gills though

BigB - Psychic

Messing with people's minds by being the liar of all time. Has a motif of deception with his character

Cleo - Poison

Sometimes associated with snakes, but also they have venom behind their words. Lots of vengence.

Mumbo - Steel

A bit unsure about this one but I thought of Grumbot! Also because I associate the steel typing with machinery, and also Mumbo's vampire hc's are funny with this considering steel's probably associated with silver

Some I'm more unsure about:

Martyn - Dragon

Uhh...fantasy smp reference..? Dragon is a really powerful type and Martyn is a formidable guy? They also have a sense of mystic to them with related to his hastag lore..?

Skizz - Bug

I can't do shit to explain myself here uhm uhm. His angel headcanons of wings...his silly little guy energy matches silly little bug...he dies fast in the series..?

Joel - Ground

Mounders? He did dig those holes in Double Life where he was called a mole...oh and also this would make him weak to Scott's typing which is very funny

Scar - Rock

He sells useless things and says they're valuable. See: the crystals of Last Life. Also all his relationships are rocky haha ba dum tss (he is the loneliest life series character I coukd talk about him for DAYS)

Ren - Normal

This leaves Ren with normal which just...doesn't feel right...like. This man is FAR from normal! Most I could think of was like a dog-like a theatre related pokemon, but those could be outside of the normal type! I'm lost...

Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed my insanity. Tune in if I end up mystery dungeoning the life series members and making them fight to the death

[crazylilad]

Red-Chapter 8

AN: Just an Fyi, this is a TWD fanfiction, meaning there are a lot of TWs, including loads of violence (of all kinds)

No smut!

Please make sure to reblog, like, or whatever you wanna do! That helps me want to continue writing these kinds of stories and to figure out what people want

SUMMARY

I ran through the woods, Matthew right behind me. 

My breaths came in harsh and my legs were screaming in protest. Just a bit farther. I promised myself. 

Matthew stumbled out of the underbrush and doubled over, his cheeks red and mouth open as he huffed for a breath. I moved his arm around my shoulder and kept going. 

I flinched as a bullet ricocheted off a tree to my left. It was too close. They were too close. 

But this was only the start 

Taglist

If you'd like to be tagged or removed, please let me know!

@d1am0ndw0lfxd @eatinpeachs @thefemininemystiquee @infectedbydaryl @ellablossom @azanoni @shadylilac @fuseburner

Chapter 8

Rossary

I don’t remember the ride back to their camp. 

Someone who smelled like cigarettes carried me inside and placed me on a bed, but I don’t remember anything other than that. 

When I woke up, I was alone. It was quiet, with the occasional sound of footsteps. I thought of the night before, and Matthew, how he was okay. 

I stared at the bottom of a top bunk. My eyes were still heavy with sleep, but no matter how hard I tried to go back to sleep, I couldn’t. 

I couldn’t believe we had finally found Rick and his family. I can’t believe they were all alive. I smiled softly. There was hope, albeit small, of us surviving this nightmarish hell.

After a while longer, I swung my legs to the side and slipped my combat boots on. Someone must’ve taken them off for me.

There was a black t-shirt on the top bunk, along with a thin jacket to place over it. I discarded my old clothes for the new ones before walking out of the cell. We were at the prison hours away from any large city.

It made me feel safe being so far away from large parts of civilization, even if I maybe shouldn’t be allowed to ever feel like that ever again.

My hand traveled the railing as I walked down the stairs. 

There was an old man and two girls, one with brown hair and the other with blonde. The blonde held a baby in her hands, rocking it back and forth. To the right of them was Carl. I inhaled sharply as I stared at the kid who held an indifferent expression on his face, the innocence he once held long gone.

On the stairs next to him was the archer, Daryl. He nodded when our eyes made contact before I looked at the small pile of guns. My hand ran over my now cleaned gun.

 I looked up slowly after hearing the quiet sound of someone’s safety being turned off, Carl’s hand on his gun.

I stared at him while I put the weapon in its holster.

“If I wanted to shoot you I’d have done it already.” It was meant to come out as a joke, but instead it came out as cold and sharp. 

Merle chuckled. “It’s too bad you didn’t bring any ammo with you.”

I whipped toward him, my eyes wide. Last time I saw him was in Atlanta, when Matthew and I left him. I thought he would’ve died. “Next time I’ll be sure to save a mag so I can empty it out in your chest.” 

This time Daryl stood, his hand gripping his crossbow. Merle scowled before letting out a dark chuckle. “You’ve got bigger balls than most men out there, Rosy.”

Before I could reply, I heard the sound of a door open. Rick and Glenn walked in, the former giving me a welcoming nod while the other looked away, Matthew behind them looking like someone shit in his cereal and called it cocoa puffs . 

“Everything okay?” Rick asked. 

Rick touched the baby’s head gently, looking down at her with a loving stare.

 “I thought you were all dead.” I finally said.

“We lost people -T-dog, Shane, Dale, and… Lori- but everyone in here… yeah we’re alive.” Rick nodded to his own words.

“Andrea and Jacqui?” I barely knew the girls, but it was obvious they were missing.

“Jacqui died at the CDC and Andrea… it’s complicated.”

I turned around to see a black woman standing at the doorway behind me. I felt caged, as if I were a circus animal performing for them. 

Rick continued, “We were attacked a couple days ago by a man named The Governor.” 

Merle chuckled. “Looks like you’re not the only one dealing with trouble, Rosy.”

“Be quiet.” Glenn hissed, a look of pure hatred on his face. Now that I paid more attention, I could see how beat up he was. 

This group wasn’t like the one I had met on the road. This was a group that was more divided than Rick realized and it would be their downfall. 

Later on, most of them left the cafeteria to do whatever they did with their time. Matthew was outside, taking watch with Maggie, who I had met along with the rest of the unfamiliar faces. 

Michonne was new, having only met the group a few weeks ago. She was strong and there was something about her that told me she was more trustworthy than the group realized.

Now, Michonne was working out while I stretched a couple feet away. I still didn’t feel like I was at my best and I hated it, the constant worry someone would attack me nagging me.

Now the only ones left in the cafeteria were the outsiders and Carol. It felt similar to William’s group with Matthew fitting in while I was stuck wondering what I had done wrong. 

“Smart to stay fit,” Merle said. He sat at one of the tables and watched Michonne and I. I couldn’t put into words how I felt about Merle, I didn’t nessecerally hate him, but he needed some serious therapy at some point.

 Michonne ignored him and continued with her routine. 

“Don’t leave out the cardio.” he dragged on. He glanced over at me. “Ya know, if we’re gonna be living under the same roof, we should clear the air.” 

I cocked my head. He was playing a game that I knew nothing about.

Merle continued. “This whole hunting you down thing,” he said to Michonne. “That was just business.”

She snorted. “Like the Gestapo?” 

He smirked, his blue eyes on me. “Yeah. Exactly. I’ve done a lot of things I ain’t proud of. Before and after.” We all had. 

Before meeting Rick for the first time, we had been in Atlanta, trying to get out. That’s when we met Merle. We all wanted out of the dead City, but after Merle stole from us we left him behind and never heard of him until now. I wonder what it’d have been like if things had gone differently.

I touched the scar on my cheek he had given me.

…

I was still in the cafeteria the next day, unsure what to do aside from taking watch halfway through the night until someone relieved me and getting to know Carol while she cooked seemed to be as good a pastime as any.

The blonde, Beth, held Judith carefully as she walked into the room. Judith cooed as she fed from the bottle, her small hands latching onto it so she could get a better grasp. 

I watched her, a small smile on my face. It was so peaceful here, no one was running or fighting over food, they were a family. 

Beth looked up and smiled at me. “Do you wanna hold her?”

My eyes widened. “No… Um…” I scratched my head, unsure what to say. 

Beth laughed. “Oh come on. She won’t bite you.”

I stared at Judith for a while. It had been a long time since I held something as small as her. If I did it wrong… her death would be on me. Before I could decline, Beth was instructing me on how to hold her and what to do to feed the baby.

I didn’t tell her I already knew everything she was saying or that I had helped raise children all throughout my early twenties. Now, at twenty-six, I felt like all those years didn’t mean anything.

I could feel someone watching me, but I stayed perfectly still. Beth smiled at me. “Did you have kids before?”

I smirked, the idea of me having kids was something I hadn’t spent time thinking about. “I had nieces and nephews.”

Her face fell. “It’s just, you’re so good with her, I thought maybe you did…”

I smiled. “I was the go-to babysitter when my siblings visited. After a while I picked up on a few things. I can take care of her for a bit if you have some things you need to do.”

Beth smiled gratefully before promising she would be back. 

I turned around in my seat trying to get comfortable as Judith finished off her serving of baby formula. She cooed at me, hand going to rest on my chest. “What?” I said. “Are you still hungry? Well I’m afraid I can’t help you with that.” My voice was high-pitched and I made exaggerated faces. It was fun to be like this again, even if for a few minutes.

Beth smiled as she took Judith but didn’t say anything to me, soon after she left the cafeteria, leaving me to play with my knife.

I looked up to see Carol staring at me, a slight smile on her face. I frowned. “What?”

She shook her head. “I just didn’t expect you to be good with babies.”

I scoffed but agreed with her all the same. I wasn’t exactly coming off as the baby loving type. 

Rick came in through the cell door, the rest of the group following. Carol gasped before hugging a blonde woman. I took a deep breath in when I recognized Andrea. 

[sugasthreedollarkookie]

Hey! If you’re still taking requests I wanted to know if you could do a Peeta Mellark x fem reader, where Peeta and the reader are in the hunger games and when Peeta and the reader separate to find some place safe. Some another player find the reader and tries to drown her. But luckily Peeta is fast enough to kill him before fully doing so. After he takes her to a cave (like the one katniss and Peeta were in) and he helps recover from it. Basically just a bunch of fluff between then after that ! :)

Peeta Mellark x Fem! Reader

AN: I fully enjoyed writing this. I really like it actually, I'm pretty surprised by myself. I feel as though my writing has improved. Anyway, I so very much hope you enjoy, leave a comment, reblog, or like, or don't its your life. Bye! :)

Tw: Fluff, Violence, slight gore w mentions of blood, talk of weapons, knives, male attacker, slight angst (let me know if I forgot anything please!)

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

"We should split up." I say, turning toward Peeta. We had been tramping through the forest for a couple hours now in search of shelter. The sun would be down in a couple of hours and we needed to find a place soon.

The competition had came down to the final eight. They are doing interviews with our families back home, it should keep the people entertained for a while. I don't think we have to worry about the game makers themselves. Their horrendous creations, however did pose a slight threat. And the other tributes. But the arena is big, and if I am being honest I am not all that afraid of them as individuals.

Alliances are shifting, breaking apart and melting. I am sure they will have enough fun on their hands without me and Peetas help.

Peeta turns towards me, an incredulous look on his face, "Are you crazy? I get that we need to find shelter but I'm not gonna leave you."

"Peeta time isn't on our side. The sun is going down. We've been trampling around for the past three hours and we haven't found shit. We need to split up, cover more ground." I look him in the eyes. He knows I'm right.

Before he has another chance to argue, "We don't have to go far. Only 100 or so yards. We'll be able to hear if the other is in trouble." I quickly reassure him, putting my hands on his shoulders and taking a deep breath, before letting it fall to a sigh. I looked into his pretty blue eyes, slowly falling into them. He smiled a forced smile, but only to a trained eye. Anyone watching would call it a reassuring smile, but it isn't. He will go along, but he won't be happy. Within his forced smile, he is telling me to make it back, to be alright and that he'll see me soon.

Don't give me that Peeta.

I lean in, closer to his side, as if I am going to hug him. Closer than the cameras mics can pic up and say softly, "We're gonna make it home Peeta. Don't worry."

I feel his arms slowly wrap around my body, pulling me gently closer to him, "At the moment that isn't my biggest worry." He says a bit above a whisper, before pulling me tighter against his warm chest and fully hugging me. I wrap my arms around him, inhaling his sent, before slowly breaking away.

He looks me up and down, "We meet back here in an hour. I'm serious y/n, an hour. Got it?" He demands, looking directly through me..

"Got it boss man," I smile, he gives me a look.

"Jesus, I know, an hour Peeta."

He looks away, smiles and looks back towards me, "Alright well I'm just making sure."

"Okay Sass, around 100 yards or so. Remember that." I start, pulling out my knife. "I'll take by the river, you go look in the woods some more. I'll try to look for a cave or some rocks stacked together. You should focus on trees that are clumped together, with lots of coverage." I nod, looking over towards him, he nods along with me.

He chuckles, turning and walking slightly away from me,"Alright, an hour?" He calls over his shoulder, double checking.

"An hour." I confirm, smiling slightly to myself. Before turning and taking off towards the direction of the river.

I walk as quietly as possible, step as softly as possible, now that I'm on my own for a bit I have to watch my own back. Which, honestly is slightly uncomfortable after depending on Peeta for the past week or so. I'm not worried I'll be hurt, but there is always a lurking feeling that will sometimes consume you, if you let it.

I make it to the river, only using up around 25 of my 100 yards. I slink down to the waters edge and stick my fingertips in. The shallow water is cool, and I relish the feel of it on my skin on this blistering hot day.

I toss my pack off my back, before turning slightly to unzip and grab out my water bottle. I might as well refill. As the water seeps into my medium sized bottle I survey my surroundings.

The river is lined in large smooth stones, some have mud and grass growing out, behind the edge a ways is nothing but forest. There is a blinding glare on the water, which is only about waist deep. The sounds of the river bubbling and gurgling is rather pretty. It seems so loud, the water, just looping under and over the smaller rocks, dancing with the other water particles. I look a little ways down the river, and a little ways on the embankment I see an opening. A cave?

Suddenly I'm struck, hard. I've been shoved onto the rock bed, landing a couple feet from where I was just sitting, my elbow hitting the rock harshly and I know that is going to bruise. But I don't care about that right now because now there is someone regaining the momentum that they had lost after shoving me.

I instinctively flip to my knees, pushing myself up onto one foot. My heart is pounding, and I don't have time to register what is happening because then I am grabbed again, this time around my chest by a pair of strong arms.

"Peeta!" I shriek, lifting my elbow and throwing it back into the rib of my attacker. They let go, long enough for me to spin around and attempt to make my fuzzy brain form some sort of plan.

I turn and I instantly recognize who I am facing. The intruder is the boy from 4. Red hair and dimples with pretty green eyes. He is bigger than me in frame and build. Definitely stronger than me physically. He scored an 8 in training. There is no way I could win by pure brute force.

I look towards his feet, my knife and pack are there. But he doesn't seem to realize that, his eyes on me. Waiting for a move.

Right now, that is if there is nothing else more interesting going on, all of Panem is watching us. Waiting to see who will walk away alive or if we might both live to fight another day.

Before I can get another thought in, he lunges at me. Grabbing my legs, I throw my arms towards him, trying to shove his already wobbly self to the ground.

"Peeta help!" Another shriek escapes my parched throat. "Peeta!" The boy lunges again, this time grabbing me and throwing me into the water.

"Y/n!" I hear Peeta yell out of breath, he sounds far off.

I try to scream but then I cannot because suddenly my head is underwater, my throat filling with water before I have a chance to spit it out. The boy is holding me down. He is trying to drown me. The thought fills me with anger. If I am going to die it sure is hell is not going to be in waist high water.

Strange enough my head becomes clearer underwater. Even as I fight and struggle for my life. Don't panic, get up, get air. My hands are flying around, trying to hit anything. I scratch and claw at his skin, my hands go to his face and I claw at his pretty green eyes. I feel the blood rather than see it on my fingers.

Suddenly my head is above water and I am gasping and coughing, my throat and nostrils are burning. My hair is slick to my head, my body hungry for air. I turn and the boy is stumbling back in the water, his hands cupping his eye, blood dripping down his face, the substance thinning with the water I had splashed onto him in the struggle for my life. His collar is stained with the liquid.

We are both occupied, me with trying to retain enough oxygen to function and him with facing the pain I have inflicted. Neither of us ready enough to attack the other. After enough oxygen has traveled to my lungs and back, I look towards him. He has one eye open, looking at me angrily. The other is shut, blood slowly oozing out of it.

"Sorry. My pride wouldn't allow me to die in 3 feet of water." I gasp, grinning over at him.

He huffs, nodding slightly. "Understandable."

Then I'm turning pushing with the current up to the bedrock. Trying to get my knife.

He's a couple feet behind me. I start to climb, and I am almost to my bag, a foot left, when I am grabbed again and being pulled into the current.

"Y/n!" I hear Peeta cry, much closer than before. And then suddenly there is another splash and the grip on my leg is now much looser than before. I swing my leg free and kick 4 off of me.

There is a splash and I turn to the water to see that he has landed into the river face down. The current slowly takes him, red taints the surrounding area moving along slowly with him.

A canon fires.

I turn to see Peeta, who is holding a bloody sword and a look of shock.

"Peeta," I choke, relief floods my entire being and is clearly evident in my voice.

"Oh my god y/n." He gasps, grabbing my hand and pulling me from the water onto the bedrock.

He wraps me in his arms frantically, "Are you okay? You're not hurt," he pulls back, grabbing my shoulders and checks me up and down. Then he quickly tucks me against his chest, his chin resting atop my head and he breathes a sigh of relief.

"What happened?"

I am so dazed. Peeta just killed someone. Someone who probably had a family, friends, maybe even someone back home.

"I'll tell you later. We need to go." I sniff, my body starting to slightly shake and I step away from Peeta. I just want to sleep.

His hands fall off of my and he looks at me so worried, but he agrees nonetheless.

"Did you find anything?" I ask, trying to keep my composure. Cameras.

"No, you?"

"I thought I saw a cave up ahead. Its up the river, see?" I ask, extending my hand and pointing to where the cave lies.

"Alright, lets go check it out." He agrees, bending down and picking up the pack at my feet.

I bend down and grab my water bottle and knife. And then we make our way over to the opening in the rock.

The cave goes down into the ground a bit, and then pans out into a flat surface. Perfect.

I huff, making my way down the slick rock, grabbing onto on of the walls of the cave, Peeta looks up at me, "Careful."

We make camp for the night, talking only when necessary. I think we are both just trying to process what happened today. I pull out two beef sticks and an apple for dinner.

We half the apple and eat our beef sticks in silence.

I have just settled into the sleeping bag, it has since grown dark outside our cave, Peeta has agreed for first watch, the anthem and the fallen have been played. Then Peeta starts talking, "Look, y/n I understand if you don't want to talk. But what happened today...was crazy...and I just want to make sure that you are alright with everything." He begins, sitting across the way, his hands on his knees.

I take a deep breath, "I don't know Peeta. I could have died. I just,-" I let it go, taking another breath and releasing it, before opening the sleeping bag and holding it open. Motioning for him to climb in with me.

He looks at me surprised, but doesn't question it and gently slips in next to me.

His body heat is a comfort. I feel as though I still haven't warmed from the chilly water earlier.

I wrap my arms around him and lay my head on his chest, I inhale him. He smells good. Always. He will always smell of butter and vanilla, no matter how long it has been since a shower or whatever weird products they forced onto him in the capitol.

"Just hold me for a while, will you." I mumble, starting to doze. I will think of what happened tomorrow. For now, I don't want to. I just want to cuddle with him. I want him to protect me from the bad dreams that I know will come tonight. They will be of green eyes and water stained red.

I nuzzle closer and lean up to kiss his neck.

"Always." He hums.

[sacredsorceress]

Worth the Risk || Bucky Barnes

pairing: bucky barnes x avenger!reader

summary: when bucky and sam get captured you have to go in alone to save them leading to a worried, overprotective bucky who cares about you a bit more than a teammate should

a/n: reblogs and replies are super appreciated!!

word count: 2.2k

warnings: description of violence, injuries, a gun, dagger and blood, swearing, angst w/ happy ending

masterlist || taglist

“Bucky?” You whispered through the earpiece. “Sam? Where are you guys-”

Sitting in the van, you began to grow worried as you couldn’t find any of your teammates on the screen after they had turned around a corner. Tapping the earpiece, you were about to speak again when you heard Sam’s voice on the other end.

“Y/n?”

Sitting forward in your chair, you breathed a premature sigh of relief.

“Sam? Thank God you guys are okay.” You told him. “I was worried when-”

“Y/n, listen,” Sam cut you off, his voice a near whisper. “They got us- me and Bucky- but I think you’ll be able to take them out if you think you’re ready for it.”

You began to feel your heart race in your chest just at the proposition. Although you had joined the group almost half a year ago, you had never gone on a mission by yourself- always having others to back you up, but you knew Sam well enough that he wouldn’t have suggested the idea lightly. If he asked you to go in alone... you knew it was because there was no other choice.

“Okay.” You said. “I can do this, Cap. I’ll be there soon- just hold on.”

With that, you left the vehicle, making your way into the building. When the door of the facility closed behind you, you raised your gun.

“You shouldn’t have told her to come in here.” Bucky told Sam, pacing around their cell. “If we couldn’t handle it together, what makes you think that she can do it by herself? You’re going to get her killed-”

“Buck,” Sam said firmly. “I know you’re worried about her, but she can handle herself. She’s our only shot of getting out of here so I’m gonna need you to calm down.”

Sitting himself down in the corner of the room, Bucky said nothing more to Sam, instead placing his head in his hands.

Bucky knew logistically that you could handle yourself- you were on the team for a reason- but that didn’t mean he didn’t worry about you. He worried about you all the time- even in training- nagging Sam if he threw you down a bit too hard and feeling his heart drop to his stomach when bruises littered your body after a mission. He hated seeing you get hurt, but as he sat in the cell with Sam, knowing that you were coming into the building all on your own- he felt as though he was going to be sick.

Now he wasn’t there to watch your back. He wasn’t there to make sure you wouldn’t get hurt. He wasn't there to make sure you didn't get yourself killed- the thought of it too horrible for him to even allow himself to think about. He worried because he knew in your line of business, every wrong move could be fatal and he couldn’t bare the thought of not having you by his side every day.

Listening to the sound of water leaking from the sealing above him, Bucky prayed you would be alright.

Turning a corner inside of the building, you were hoping the same.

Peaking around the edge of a wall you spotted two men, armed with batons. Taking a deep breath, you aimed for one of the men’s bullet proof vest, taking the shot and knocking him to the ground. Immediately the other man ran towards you with the baton raised in his hand. 

Ducking as he swung the baton, you threw a punch to the man’s stomach, knocking him backwards, but just as you did the other man hit you in your back with the baton.

“Fuck!” You screamed out in pain, taking the man’s arm between your knees. You pulled the baton out of his hand as you stretched it in the other direction, causing him to yelp out in pain. 

Once in your hand, you spun around, swinging the man in the face with the baton, knocking him unconscious. Dropping it to the floor, you pulled your taser from your belt, shocking the other man, forcing him to the ground.

“Y/n?” You heard Sam ask through the earpiece. “Y/n are you alright?”

Shoving the taser back in its slot and raising your gun once again, you stepped over the two men’s unconscious bodies, running down the hallway.

“I am now.” You huffed, placing one of your hands on your lower back. “When this is over, you’re paying for my chiropractor.”

Turning another corner, you were met with a man and a woman standing at the end of the hallway.

“Are you guys always in pairs?” You asked. “Frankly I think it’s unfair.”

When they said nothing, just raising their batons from their belts, you spoke up again.

“Where are my friends?” You asked more seriously.

“You’re about to find out.”

The woman running at you first, you hit the butt of your gun in her face causing her to wobble backwards but the second you did, you felt a burst of searing hot pain run throughout your face as the baton collided with your nose. Stumbling backwards, you felt as another of the baton’s swings hit your midsection, causing you to double over in pain.

The man tugged your collar as you felt another blow connect with your face.

Wheezing, you dropped the gun to your side.

Standing in front of you, the woman slid her baton back into her belt.

“See?” she said. “I’m sure your friends will be happy to see-”

As she spoke you carefully slid your dagger out of your belt, but before she was able to finish her sentence, you threw it cleanly at her, the dagger jamming itself through her shoulder, sticking her to the wall.

“Shit!” She shouted in pain.

Immediately afterwards, the man grabbed your coat shoving you against the wall only to throw another punch to your mouth. Rather than giving him the satisfaction of yelping out in pain, you headbutt the man, causing him to stumble backwards into his partner. Grabbing the baton from his hand, you swung it over his head, knocking him unconscious.

Spitting blood onto the ground, you heaved as you picked up your gun and the keys from the man’s waist, making your way over to the room on the right.

Swinging the door open, your eyes immediately fell onto the reinforced cell in front of you, Bucky and Sam rushing to the front. Stumbling over to the cell, you unlocked the door, swinging it open and leaning against it.

“Y/n?” You heard Bucky’s voice first as he ran over to you. “Fuck, look at you.”

Moving his hands to cup your face, not being able to help yourself from wincing, Bucky could feel his heart shatter in his chest. Sure, you had a few bruises here and there in the past but never this bad.

You had a deep gash across your nose that he was sure would need stitches along with a cut along your lip and a large bruise forming around your eye- and that was just your face.

Looking up and seeing his worried eyes, you shot him a quaint, bloody smile.

“You should see the other guys.” You joked.

You attempted to laugh, only to wheeze and begin to cough.

“Y/n this isn’t funny.” He said seriously. “You could have died. Sam should have never asked-”

“Bucky,” You cooed, reaching your hands up to cup his face. “I’m okay. Besides, I couldn’t leave my favorite boys in here could I?”

Feeling your fingertips against his face, he couldn’t help but melt into your touch. You always managed to make him a lovesick mess as if he was still fifteen and not a one hundred and six year-old man who had been to hell and back.

“Hate to break up the reunion,” Sam said. “But those guys will only be out for so long. We got to get out of here.”

-

After falling asleep on the car ride back to the Compound, you woke up in bed, the dim glow of the lamp shining on the night stand above you. Opening your eyes, you pushed yourself up in the bed, only for a shooting pain to spread throughout your torso. Not able to stop yourself, you yelped out in pain.

“Hey, hey,” You heard none other than Bucky’s voice beside you, one of his hands coming to rest on yours while the other adjusted your pillow. “Take it easy.”

“I am, Doc.” You lied, leaning against your newly adjusted pillow.

Tucking you in, Bucky shook his head, leaning on the nightstand beside you.

“We should have never let you go in alone.” He sighed, leaning his head on his hand. “I just felt sick the entire time. You could have died, Y/n. If they just hit you in the wrong spot... I’m never letting you go in alone again. I’m not letting you leave my sight.”

During your time as a member of the group, you and Bucky had grown incredibly close and during the past few months maybe even closer than friends. It was normal for him to worry- you never even had to wonder where he was during missions because he always had your back- but looking at his face now you could tell just how worried he had been and you couldn’t help but feel your heart break.

“Bucky,” You hummed. “You go on dangerous missions all the time alone. How am I any different?”

A silence settled over the two of you as Bucky squeezed your hand. 

Not meeting your eyes, he spoke up again.

“Because I can’t lose you.” Bucky said, his voice nearly a whisper. “I can’t even think about what would happen if anything happened to you, Y/n. Even seeing the cuts and bruises on your face? I’m... I’m not the Winter Soldier anymore, but I think if you put me in a room with those people I would kill them for what they did to you. I almost broke us out of the cell myself because I hated the idea so much of you going in there on your own. If something happens to me... it’s different. Nothing can happen to you, Y/n. Nothing.”

Staring at the super soldier sat at your bedside, you began to feel tears prick in your eyes. You had cared for Bucky in a way that you had been too afraid to admit- not wanting to ruin your friendship- but as he sat there, confessing his feelings for you, you couldn’t help but feel your heart tug in your chest, just wanting him.

“Do you love me?” You asked finally before you could stop yourself.

Looking up at your injured face, he felt his breath catch in his throat. He wasn’t able to read you in the moment at all, your face straight, seriousness laced in ever bit. All he could think was that even with the black eye and the stitches across your nose, he had never seen someone as beautiful as you.

He knew his answer. There wasn’t a single part of him that doubted it.

“Yes.” 

Hearing his answer, you stared at him and smiled.

“Are you sure?” You asked. “Do you love me as more than a teammate-”

“Y/n,” He cut you off, squeezing your hand once again. “As much as I love working with you, every time you call me your ‘teammate’ I want to go find a punching bag.”

Trying to bite back your smile, you couldn’t help but chuckle.

You hated calling him “only” your teammate just as much as he did- if not more.  Knowing that he hated it just as much as you the entire time you used the word to disguise your true feelings made you feel as if a weight had been lifted off of your chest despite the aches that still consumed your being.

Bucky was more than your teammate, he was your partner.

“Oh Thank God.” You laughed. “I can’t tell you how many I’ve knocked off the hook after you called me your ‘friend’.”

Furrowing his eyebrows, he leaned in closer to you.

“What are you saying?” He asked.

Shaking your head in disbelief, you reached your free hand up to his hair, brushing it back with your hand.

“I’m saying,” You smiled. “that I love you too and that I’m not going anywhere, Buck.”

Leaning into your touch, a smile finally reached across his face. “You know, if it weren’t for your stitches, I would kiss you right now.”

“So my face isn’t too messed up then, right, Doc?” You asked. “If you still want to kiss me and all...”

Reaching your hand up to his lips, he pressed a soft kiss to your skin.

“You could never look bad, doll.” He hummed. “But promise me you won’t do that to me again. I almost had a heart attack, Y/n.”

Leaning your head against your pillow, admiring him, you smiled.

“I promise, Buck.”

[liaromancewriter]

Stay a Little Longer

Premise: Max hadn’t expected to like Cassie’s fellow dolphin, but fate had other plans.

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Sienna Trinh x Max Valentine (M!OC). Feat. Cassie Valentine Rating/Category: General. Fluff. Words: 1,855

A/N: This is a story that I’ve wanted to write since talking about it in a reblog comment on Thankful. The fic looks back at the moment when Max and Sienna first start to become friends. Set just before section 2 of New Beginnings.

Submission for March @choicesmonthlychallenge Day 6 prompt “Family”

It was after five o’clock in the evening when Max Valentine parked his car on the street outside his sister’s apartment building in Beacon Hill. Rain splattered on the windshield and fog descended, wrapping around the streetlights to bathe the residential street in mystery.

Max thought the view outside could have come straight out of a noir film. The only thing missing was a femme fatale waiting in the darkness with a gun and an excuse.

Pulling up the hood of his jacket, he exited the car, coming around the front to step onto the sidewalk. He inserted his credit card in the parking meter and snatched up the ticket as soon as it stopped printing.

He placed the ticket stub on the front dash before reaching into the backseat for the picnic basket he’d packed with leftovers from the family Thanksgiving dinner in Newport.

It wasn’t the first Thanksgiving Cassie had missed as her schedule had been iffy during the last two years of med school. But unlike the distance between Baltimore and Newport, the one between Boston and their family estate was minimal.

As far as he was concerned, an hour and a half on the I-95 was nothing as long as he got to spend what was left of the holiday with his favorite person, particularly since he had several work trips booked after this and wouldn’t see her at Christmas.

Getting off the elevator on her floor, he made his way towards the apartment, knocking loudly on the door with his knuckles. He was earlier than he’d told her he would be, but hoped she’d still managed to get enough rest after working a double shift.

He was about to knock again when he heard the lock click, and the door opened a crack. A pair of confused brown eyes peered out at him before recognition dawned.

“Hi,” said Sienna, her voice gruff before she cleared it. “Sorry, I’m still half asleep.”

She swung open the door, stepping aside to let him in. “Cassie’s in the shower and will be out shortly.”

“That’s okay,” he said following her into the living room. “I’m an hour early. Figured it would take me that long just to get her out of bed, you know.”

She giggled at that, having lived with Cassie long enough now to know how true it was. She envied her roommate’s ability to fall asleep on a dime, while it took Sienna time to wind down after a long shift.

She covered her mouth as a yawn escaped, her body heavy from fatigue. The short nap she’d taken earlier had not been enough after spending almost thirty hours on her feet. She played with the belt on her robe, shifting on her feet as she struggled with wanting to lie down and being a good hostess.

“You’re tired and swaying on your feet,” commented Max, setting the picnic basket down on the coffee table. “Go back to bed. I can wait out here by myself.”

“’Tis okay,” said Sienna, biting back another yawn. “I have to meet my boyfriend at his place for dinner. Just need to find my second wind.”

“While you’re doing that, please sit. I can’t unless you do as well,” he added with a grin. “You don’t want to be a bad hostess, do you?”

“I suppose not,” she replied, smiling gratefully as she sat down.

“Long shift?” he asked, twisting slightly to face her as he sat down on the other side of the couch, stretching his arm wide along its back.

“The longest,” she nodded, running her hands over her face and gently massaging the bags under her eyes with the tips of her fingers. 

“I spent most of it running around the ED,” she continued. “My resident warned me Thanksgiving was a dangerous holiday, but I thought she was exaggerating. Not even close! My feet hurt and the thought of wearing any kind of shoes right now feels like torture…”

She trailed off at the amusement on his face. “I’m sorry. I’m going on and on and you couldn’t care less.”

“Not true,” he assured her. “I was smiling because you reminded me of my sister just now.”

Before he could continue, they heard the bathroom door open and Cassie came into view, wearing a bathrobe, wet hair wrapped in a towel.

“You’re here!” she exclaimed, rushing over.

“I couldn’t wait,” said Max, coming around the couch to engulf his sister in a warm hug.

Sienna watched the siblings, a wistful smile on her lips at the love between them. She made her excuses, giving them privacy as she closed the bedroom door behind her.

Sitting down at the edge of her bed, she gave serious thought to getting back under the covers again. She would have too, but Wayne was expecting her for dinner. And after his comments yesterday, she didn’t want to give him another excuse to complain.

It would take her at least an hour to get to his place, she thought with a loud groan, possibly more since the T would be packed with Black Friday shoppers and those returning from family visits.

Still, she was looking forward to having a meal she didn’t have to cook. That alone was worth the minor inconvenience of getting dressed and making the trek across town in the rain.

A short while later, she checked her reflection in the mirror hanging on the back of her bedroom door and adjusted the folds of the sleeveless green velvet dress before pulling on a black cardigan. 

Slipping her feet into leather booties, she unplugged her cellphone and shoved it inside a crossbody messenger bag, which she looped over her head and across her front.

She’d just reached the kitchen entrance when her phone signaled a text. Most likely Wayne checking to see if she was on her way, she thought as she slowed her pace to unzip the bag and fish inside for her phone.

Sienna was unable to hide her disappointment as she read Wayne’s message canceling their plans. His friends from work had invited him to an online gaming session and he’d call her on the weekend.

“What’s wrong?” asked Cassie.

Sienna glanced up from the screen as her friend walked over, a glass of wine in one hand. She’d changed into jeans and a black turtleneck, her hair still damp and curling down her back.

“Wayne’s meeting up with friends tonight,” said Sienna with dismay. “I guess I got our wires crossed.”

“I’m sorry, Si,” said Cassie, sympathy coating her voice. “I know you were looking forward to it.”

“It’s okay,” said Sienna, smiling ruefully as she shook off her disappointment. “It is what it is. At least now I don’t have to battle the Black Friday crowds on the T and can catch up on my sleep instead.”

“Why don’t you stay and join us for dinner?” said Max, coming to stand beside Cassie. “We have a ton of food and even Cassie would be hard pressed to finish it all in one sitting.”

He laughed when Cassie huffed in annoyance and tried to hip check him, only to have him hook his arm around her waist, holding her locked against him.

“I’m not that bad,” complained Cassie.

“Yes, you are!” Max and Sienna said in unison before they paused to stare at each other as they realized what just happened.

Then all three of them burst out laughing, the boisterous sound echoing across the quiet apartment.

“Okay, yes, I am,” admitted Cassie, wiping at the tears spiking her eyelashes, swallowing the rest of her laughter. “Still, the offer holds, Si. The others are welcome to join us too. It’s super casual. Leftovers and really good wine.”

“I think we’re the only ones here,” said Sienna. “Jackie went out earlier. Elijah is spending the night at the hotel with his parents and Landry picked up an extra shift.”

“Why don’t we have a picnic in the living room?” suggested Max, shifting to stand in the middle and offered them his arms.

He waited until they both looped their arms through his on either side of him before leading them back to the couch.

“The two of you get comfortable, take a load off,” he said, “and I’ll bring everything over.”

Alone, Sienna glanced over at Cassie, catching her eye to silently ask if she was really okay with her crashing the party. She relaxed when Cassie nodded, smiling softly as she covered Sienna’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Sienna, what would you like to drink?” called out Max from the kitchen where he was unpacking the food on the counter. “We have a Pinot Grigio, or Merlot if you want red, as well as sparkling water.”

“Pinot, please,” said Sienna, reaching down to take off her shoes, setting them aside along with her bag before drawing her legs up beneath her.

She smiled up at Max when he handed her a glass of the chilled white wine before returning to the kitchen.

Feeling the weariness fade, she sank into the cushions, her head resting on the back of the couch next to Cassie’s. They sipped their wine and exchanged desultory conversation as they waited for the food.

Later that night, Sienna was sitting up in bed, massaging her face with night cream, and reflecting on the fact she hadn’t laughed that much or that hard since her residency started. It had been nice to have a conversation that wasn’t about the hospital or patients or the fellowship competition.

She had enjoyed getting to know Max and marveled at how similar the twins were while also being their own person. The only other time she’d met him had been so brief and their text exchange even more so. But, tonight had felt different, like they could become friends.

At least that’s what she had sensed from their camaraderie earlier. She wished he could have stayed a little longer, but both she and Cassie had early morning rounds tomorrow. He’d cleared up the remnants of their picnic, put the kitchen to rights and told them to get some sleep before leaving for his hotel.

The ping of an incoming message broke through her scattered thoughts. Thinking it was likely Wayne and, not in the mood to deal with him, she almost ignored it but then curiosity got the best of her.

She had tried to save face earlier by saying she had gotten their wires crossed, but she knew she hadn’t. Wayne had confirmed their dinner date in the afternoon only to cancel last minute because something better had come up than spending time with his girlfriend.

Fired up, she quickly grabbed the phone from her bedside table only to calm down when she saw it was actually a message from Max.

Sienna was smiling as she put away her phone and lay back down in bed, tucking the covers around her.  She hadn’t been wrong earlier. Looks like she had made another friend tonight. 

And she could use all the friends she could get.

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics​

Tagging in reblog

[egcdeath]

opposites attract

pairing: steve rogers x villain!reader

summary: based off of the lyrics:

“you and i are two oceans apart

we're on earth to break each others hearts

in two, and it's hard

with you, when i'm too far

from you, i look at the stars,

do you?”

from ‘ferrari’ by the neighbourhood

warnings: injuries, sparring, mention of blood and bruises, angst, fluff, and banter

word count: 3.7k

a/n: i am a simple woman. i think of a hurt/comfort concept and am morally obligated to write it. (this is a repost from the other day so if you saw it before, no you didn’t)

if you’d like to be added to my taglist, click here! as always, comments and reblogs are always appreciated <3

Thick, cushioned, cream colored walls. You supposed this was an upgrade from your last room, with its harsh and reflective steel. Every time you made an appearance here, it seemed there was a new, yet futile, attempt to keep you contained.

As you studied the pillowy surface, you drummed your fingers on the wooden table that your hands were currently strapped down to, and secretly hoped for your captor to rear his head, even if he was peeking through the double-sided mirror to your left.

Your mind proved itself to be a powerful thing, as the door ahead of you opened, and none other than Captain America stepped in, looking valiant and proud as ever.

“Good afternoon, Captain,” you greeted.

“Flux,” he said in a matter of faculty tone, nodding his head at you before pulling the chair in front of you aside and sitting down.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” you asked, as if you hadn’t been tussling with him in the streets less than an hour ago.

“Y’know, just our biweekly catch up,” he shrugged, playing along.

“Can I suggest coffee for our next meeting?”

Steve scoffed, but you almost swore that if you squinted, you could see him blush. “Enough of that,”  he mumbled before opening a yellow folder and turning it to face you. “You ready to tell me about him?” Steve asked, pointing to a printed photo of Brock Rumlow.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Captain,” you responded, looking up and batting your lashes at the man. This routine was like clockwork for you two. Fight a little, get yourself caught after a moment of weakness, and end up in an interrogation room.

“Don’t play dumb with me Flux,” he warned in a snarl, wrapping his fingers against your wrist and making you yelp. That was definitely going to leave a mark.

“Ouch, Captain. You’re being rough today, even for you.”

“I’m always rough with you,” he insisted, raising a brow as he loosened his hold on you.

“You’re being rougher than usual, that’s what I just said,” you furrowed your own brows at him. “Something on your mind?

“You’re stalling,” Steve stated while squinting at you.

“I would never do something like that, Cap,” you closed your eyes and visualized the outside of the building. “Does it have anything to do with those accords?”

You opened an eye quick enough to catch a glimpse of his jaw ticking, “I didn’t mean to strike a chord. Oh my gosh, ‘a chord’, accord. I really didn’t even mean to do that.”

You opened your other eye to get a clear view of him glaring at you. “Okay, sorry, I’ll be out of your hair in a moment,” you gave Steve a sly wink.

He stood up from the chair in a dramatic fashion, leaning down to get right in your face. “No. You won’t. Tell me everything you know about Rumlow.”

“Cap,” you pouted mockingly. “You’re not very good at this. Really makes a gal wonder why they keep sending you in to interrogate me, when you don’t seem to get much out of me.”

He grit his teeth while looking down at you, your eye contact both intense and passionate.

“If it makes you feel any better,” you began, looking away at a plain wall in an attempt to focus a bit more on leaving, “I genuinely know nothing about him.”

Steve gave you a humorless look, and your eyes naturally flitted back to him, “really,” he said drily.

“Really,” you confirmed. “We don’t really work in that whole chemical warfare field. Especially with a guy like Rumlow? He’s bad news. Did you really think that all ‘villains’,” you made air quotations on the table. “Know the intimate details of each other’s lives and plans?”

“Hmm,” Steve hummed aloud as he moved back, seemingly convinced.

“I was serious when I said that I’m leaving, though. You and I both have better things to do. But please tell Wanda that she did a good job for me, okay? I mean, civilian deaths are never pretty, but I genuinely would miss having you around.”

“I hate how you talk so much, but literally say nothing,” he huffed.

“I’m not gonna take that personal, ‘cause I know you don’t really mean that,” you sighed softly and looked away to visualize the outside of the building. “Hopefully the next time I see you won’t be UN sanctioned. Farewell, Captain.”

With those words, you were gone.

——

For the next few days of your life, you hadn’t stopped receiving an earful at the Brooklyn base. Mainly from your teammates, who seemed to never let things go, and were the nastiest gossips you’d ever met. Currently, rumor had it that Cecelia, your boss, was preparing to have a strong word with you.

You cracked your knuckles anxiously as you followed a teammate, Amelia, down into the sparring facility, as an attempt to calm your mind before whatever bad news was broken to you.

You passively listened to the TV in the corner of the room while wrapping your knuckles in preparation of getting your ass beat, and listened to the rapid fire reports from hours earlier in the day, but mainly tuned into the fight between the Avengers at the Leipzig airport.

“Have you heard?” Amelia questioned, tying up her lengthy hair as she sauntered onto the mat.

“No, tell me more,” you followed suit on the mat, rising onto the ball of your foot to the heel of your foot in an alternating rhythmic bounce.

“I guess some of it is that UN thing, but it’s probably because of the Winter Soldier,” Amelia bounced similarly to you before charging forward and throwing a left hook at you.

“No way! I thought that guy just disappeared after that S.H.I.E.L.D shit,” you dodged the swing, and went to knee her. “I swear, I asked Steve about it once.”

Amelia rolled her eyes at you, and caught your knee, pushing you down to the ground in the process. “You’re obsessed with him.”

“I think it’s mutual. And you said you’d go easy on me,” you whined, grabbing her extended hand and pulling yourself back up.

“You’re delusional, and that’s why Cec is pissed with you. In fact, Cecelia was so mad, that she couldn’t even form the words to tell you. At least, that’s what she told Naomi.”

“Why, though? It’s not like I haven’t been caught by him a million times already.”

“That’s the problem, though. What happens when they decide to send someone else in to talk to you? And they start waterboarding you, or some shit? All the sudden the Avengers know everything about us?”

“Well that wouldn’t happen, because I would leave,” you shrugged after blocking a few punches.

“I hope you’re getting all your aloof-ness out now, because Cecelia is not gonna put up with this attitude.”

You huffed, and marched over to get a sip of water, dramatically squirting it in your mouth before heading back to the sparring mat.

“Just let me enjoy this while I can, okay? I know how to protect myself,” you swung your fist in an uppercut, and Amelia maneuvered herself out of the way.

“Well, I was just reading something before this. Apparently your boy is a fugitive of the law now. It almost looks like your time is already up,” Amelia commented, delivering a stiff jab to you at the same time that you crouched.

Hearing this news, you froze up, and the punch landed right on your nose, an unsatisfying crack reverberating in your ears.

“Y/N, you alright?” She asked, approaching you as you reached a hand up assess the damage, and pulled away an extremely bloody hand.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you mumbled letting her lead you off of the mats and to the connected bathroom, so you could get a better look at yourself.

You were dizzy with pain, and you pressed your hand to your nose, willing it to heal. Though not your most frequently used ability, it certainly assisted some of the pain. You squeezed your face in a cringe as your bone rearranged itself.

“Is he in jail?” you asked, watching her face screw up in the mirror.

“You’re not really- you are a lost cause,” Amelia scoffed.

“You could be a little nicer to the person whose nose you just broke.”

“You’re fixing your own nose! You’re fine, okay?” she exasperatedly brought her palm up to her forehead. “I’m gonna go take a shower. Be ready to talk to Cecelia as soon as you leave this room. A word of advice? Don’t mention your work husband unless she mentions it first, okay?”

Amelia set a hand on your back and pat it, “good luck with her. If you need a sofa to crash on after this, my place is always free.”

You shook your head at yourself as she left, your own personal healing already fixing most of the damage. As you hopped into your own shower stall, you couldn’t help but question just how bad this confrontation was truly going to be.

——

You walked into Cecelia’s office after receiving a text message from her assistant, inviting you to meet with her.

You were handed a disposable cup filled with piping hot coffee as you entered, and Cecelia beckoned you to sit down in front of her. You obliged, nervously rubbing your hands on your pants as you sat.

“Y/N,” she began in a sigh, “what has gotten into you lately?”

“Nothing, just-“ the older woman put an open hand out, prompting you to stop.

“No, Y/N. You’ve let Rogers become your biggest blind spot. You let him catch you off guard and capture you nearly every single time you go out on the field! I’m starting to think that you want him to catch you.”

“What if I do?” you shrugged, feigning indifference.

“It’s not a ‘what if’ anymore, dear,” Cecelia took a deep breath. “Especially after what happened in San Francisco.”

“I- Cec, you told me that you wouldn’t bring up California anymore!” you huffed and shook your head. “It’s not even like it’s a problem. They haven’t once received intel from me,” you added.

“Something tells me that you won’t be having the same interrogator for a while at least. We were gonna take you out of the field before this whole Avengers fiasco, but I think it’s time for you to just take a break as a whole.”

“So you’re firing me?” you huffed, “great.”

“No, you are taking a break. We can get you set up in the Prague safe house, and everything.”

You weakly threw up your hands and looked away from Cecelia, not even being able to bear looking at her for the moment. What a great day you were having.

——

You sulked the whole way up to your apartment, and reached in your jacket’s pocket with sluggish speed. It was as if you couldn’t catch a break today, which was all you seemed to be able to think about while grabbing your key.

You looked up at the door, and noticed something slightly off. The door was just the slightest bit ajar, as if it was deliberately cracked for you to see. Someone was inside. Waiting for you. You held in your groan as you came to this conclusion.

You really couldn’t catch a break.

Despite your better judgement, you devised a quick plan in your mind. You could probably protect yourself, right? You closed your eyes in a blink, and imagined your kitchen. The plasticky tiles on the floor, the dent in your countertop from dropping a mug, the wooden cupboards that you’d quickly fallen in love with. The next moment, you were standing in your kitchen, right next to your silverware.

As quiet as you could possibly manage to be, you slipped your sharpest and largest knife from its home in a wooden block, and defensively in front of you. Creeping out of the kitchen and into your hallway, you examined area by area for any sign of intrusion, pointing your knife with every turn.

After finding nothing and no one, at the end of the hallway you turned, walking back down and stopping in front of your living room after noticing a few dark stains on your carpet.

You took a deep breath before walking into the open space, the pit in your stomach growing at the thought of what it was that you were about to find.

With a few timid steps, you found a shirtless Steve Rogers, sat on your couch, head lolled back, eyes squeezed shut in pain as he released shallow breaths and attempted to apply pressure to a wound. With one look at him, you yelped and involuntarily found yourself back in the hallway outside of the room, your fear strong enough to force you into teleportation.

“Funny seeing you here,” Steve began, and you stalked back into the room, your steps slightly less fearful as you stepped over his discarded tactical gear.

“Steve?” You whispered, setting the knife on a random bookshelf before kneeling down on the floor next to him. You had a plethora of questions, but you couldn’t decide what was the most important. “I- Are… What happened?”

He shrugged weakly.

“Okay, well how badly are you hurt?” You questioned apprehensively.

“Pretty badly,” he responded.

You nodded slowly while you attempted to process the entire situation. You couldn’t tell if this was a scene from your wettest dream, or worst nightmare. “I’ll be right back,” you muttered, leaving the room to grab some water to help you speed up your healing process.

As you reentered your living room, you set down the bowl of water and squatted down next to Steve once again. Dipping your hands in the liquid, and placing them on an open head wound, you found it appropriate to question him.

“Steve,” you began, watching the forehead laceration quickly shrink into a small scar. “Why are you here?”

“I had nowhere else to go,” he put plainly.

“A hospital, maybe?” you added, pushing away the hand that was currently holding down a rather bloody wound on his upper arm, and exchanging it for your own.

“Something tells me that a hospital isn’t the best place for a guy of my legal status to be at right now,” he countered while you halted your attempt to reduce the size of the wound, cracking your stiff knuckles in preparation for the final push of closing the abrasion. “Besides, this isn’t the first time we’ve done something like this before. You remember S-“

“San Francisco. Right,” you cut Steve off, and brushed off the previous comment. “This is gonna hurt a little,” you warned. before setting your fingers down, and putting an obscene amount of pressure on the bicep wound.

Steve grit his teeth so hard that you swore you could hear it. His muscles clenched as you resumed your attempt to soothe the sore.

“Hey, look at me,” you used your free hand, and gently pushed his cheek so that he was looking at you. “If I distract you, it’ll hurt a lot less. Trust me.”

He seemed to agree with you, and took in a deep breath while the corner of his eye twitched.

“How did you even find my apartment?” you asked, using your pinky to tilt his chin up, and force his view away from the cut.

“It wasn’t that hard, I mean, we’ve been tracking you and that ‘financial firm’ you work in for years,” he spoke through clenched teeth.

“You sure it’s not because you like to keep a personal tab on me?”

“No! Why would I…?”

“Because if all the Avengers knew where me and my teammates reside, we’d all be locked up already.”

“Fine, maybe I pulled a few strings. It’s just because I think you’re the biggest threat to the general public.”

“Really? The woman with the least destructive powers of all of us, not the one with super strength? Or the one who could manipulate elements? Or even, I don’t know, the person leading us?” you chuckled a bit at the poor excuse.

Steve rolled his eyes fondly, but you could clearly see the soft flush on his face.

“It’s okay, Steve. We all have our favorite coworkers.”

“We aren’t coworkers, though.”

“It seems like you’re gonna need all the allies that you can come across. Don’t get picky with me now,” you tutted, finalizing your work on his peck, and leaving behind a small, pink scar.

You let out a breath of exhaustion as you pulled your hand away, and pointlessly shook out your wrists.

“You alright?” Steve questioned, adjusting himself a bit on the sofa and grunting at the rather simple task.

“Fine. What else needs attention?”

He gestured to the light bruising on his ribs that only seemed to be getting darker by the moment.

“We should take a break first, though. You seem tired.”

“I told you that I’m perfectly fine,” you countered, setting one hand on your chest, and pointing a lazy finger at Steve, “you’re the one that needs a break.”

Steve grabbed your finger and gently pushed it down, “I don’t really, but maybe we should take a break.” He gave you a kind smile, and your heart fluttered. Even bartered and bloody, Steve managed to make you feel like a schoolgirl with a crush.

“Well, any great Captain America plans to get yourself out of this mess?” you leaned against the sofa, and twisted your torso slightly so that you could get a good look at your visitor.

“Nope, not yet,” Steve pursed his lips slightly. “Any input from the lady who seems to get out of every rock and hard place she finds herself in?”

You snickered, and shook your head at this, “not at the moment. But you have me on speed dial, right? I can get back to you when I think of something,” you joked with a wink.

“I would laugh, but I’m honestly a little nervous that my lung might pop if I do.”

“Oh fuck, Steve,” you scooted away from him so you could be closer to the bowl of water once again. “Why did we take a break? You need urgent medical attention.”

“You needed a moment.”

You shook your head and frowned, catching the inside of your bottom lip between your teeth, “don’t do that again.”

You dunked both of your hands in the water, then turned back around and set your damp hands on the bruising on Steve’s ribs, closing your eyes in concentration as you addressed the damage.

Steve howled out in pain, making you flinch as a result. With the hand doing less work, you blindly pat around in a search for something to shove into his mouth and dampen the noises he was currently making. Eventually settling on a blanket, you shoved the fabric deep into his mouth.

“Sorry,” you uttered while the muted noise of his pain rang through your ears, “neighbors.”

The task wasn’t the easiest for you either, healing what seemed like such a large break or fracture following several other injuries was depleting your energy quickly. Your arms and hands trembled as you began to watch the splotchy yellow mark begin to blend into the rest of Steve’s skin, and you were becoming more and more light headed by the second.

Feeling somewhat satisfied with your work, you pulled your shaky hands away, and leaned away from Steve’s body before losing your balance, and falling back onto your plush floor.

Steve yanked the blanket from his mouth, sticking out his tongue for a second as he attempted to pull a spare string from his mouth. He sat up rapidly, and looked down at you with raised brows, and big, frightened eyes.

“Y/N?” he asked breathily, still exhausted from his own exertion, “you still with me?”

Your chest rose and fell slowly, and you were silent for a moment before responding, “I just need a minute.”

Steve relaxed back into the sofa with the knowledge that you were at least still conscious, and waited a few beats before he spoke again, “thanks,” was all that he managed to utter.

The two of you sat there in an extremely loud silence, the only other noise being your nearly synchronized panting.

“I’m gonna go shower,” you announced after what felt like hours on your floor. You slowly rose, and dragged yourself to the bathroom in your bedroom. Hitting the shower valve, then sitting atop your countertop you let the suite fill with steam, reflecting on your bizarre day, but most of all, your interaction with Steve.

You let yourself dwell on this while you stood in the shower, forehead pressed against the warm tile as you considered the implications of every word shared between the two of you, and how you’d let this tiny crush get so far ahead of you. Maybe it really was a good idea to take some time away from New York. You were so deep in your own thoughts that you failed to catch onto the sound of the floorboard that loudly creaked in your living room, or the soft click of your front door opening and closing.

Changing into some more comfortable clothing, you exited the bathroom, and ultimately your own room ready to offer up your shower to Steve, and possibly even talk about your feelings in a serious manner with him. Yet, by the time you arrived at the couch that had held him just a half hour ago, it was vacant. In fact, your whole apartment was vacant. You’d checked three whole times.

Ending your fruitless search on your balcony, you settled down into the single plastic beach chair that you kept outdoors, and draped the blanket from your sofa that had previously been in Steve’s mouth around your shoulders. The chill of the night air contributed to the sting of your eyes when they welled up, and you told yourself that it was silly to ever think that this, you and him, could ever happen in the first place.

Gazing up at the stars, you cursed yourself for being so naive. For letting yourself fall so fast, and so hard for someone you knew so out of reach. The stars seemed to mock you, in all of their billions of years of knowledge.

Yet, part of you was comforted by the knowledge that Steve could be viewing the same constellations as you.

----

a/n: listen. i feel like these idiots have a lot of potential so if you want me to write any more of them i am totally down!

[galemalio]

3 Examples of Racial Bias in Animation Storytelling

It’s not hard to grasp that a white person, while not explicitly or consciously racist in the sense we might usually imagine, is still inherently racially biased because they benefit from and grow up used to white supremacy.” - Scottishwobbly, Tumblr

This is nothing new. This is something POC (People of Color) have been talking about in separate fandoms. Nevertheless, it needs to be acknowledged by those unaware.

This article is not made to say that some of the animations that I will use as examples are bad. But in the hopes that we, as consumers and creators, will do better in the future in handling characters that are POC. 

Most often, racial bias in storytelling is when the narrative treats white or light skin toned characters better than darker skin toned characters. The darker skin toned characters are often POC-coded or actual POC.

White creators often do not notice their racial bias in their storytelling as they benefit from and grow up with white privileges and white supremacy. This can also apply to light-skinned POC who have light skin priviliges. 

Some of us don’t often see it but real people who relate to the characters of color do. Especially when it reflects from their experiences with racial bias, microaggressions, colorism and flat out racism.

So when they speak up, it’s important to listen to them to unlearn the racial bias we may have in ourselves. 

I will be emphasizing “the narrative” for I am criticizing how the story treats its dark-skinned characters and not because I am criticizing the characters themselves.

This article is critiqued by @visibilityofcolor​ as a sensitivity reader once and then additions were made before publishing. If you’re looking for a Black sensitivity reader, you can contact her. 

This article is a 14-minute read at average speed so buckle up. Unless you want to skip to your show mentioned below. External Tumblr Resources will be put in the reblog.

Here are three examples that I was made aware of. 

Example #1: The Narrative Treats the Light-Skinned Character at the Expense of the Dark-Skinned Character

Steven Universe was one of the animations that pushed lgbt+ representation in cartoon media. However, there are narratives here and there that showed racial bias. 

SU creator Rebecca Sugar was raised with "Jewish sensibilities" and both siblings observe the lighting of Hanukkah candles with their parents through Skype.[1] Rebecca Sugar also talked about being non-binary.[2] 

But as a white person, she (and the rest of the SU crew) is not aware of the inherently biased values from growing up and benefiting from white privilege. 

One example is the human zoo. There are people that have spoken up about this such as @jellyfax​​ of Tumblr who pointed out that the Crewniverse mishandled a loaded topic and reinforced a white colonist propaganda where the captive humans of mostly black/brown people are naive, docile and childlike in order to subjugate the people that they colonized. .

What I’m here is how a character of color from the main cast is more obligated to the lighter-skinned character. 

In the episode, Friend Ship, one fan had spoken out about how Garnet, who had been validly angry at Pearl, was compelled by a dangerous situation to forgive Pearl. Garnet is a Black-coded character. While Pearl is a light-skinned character.  

Garnet was mad at Pearl for tricking her into always fusing with her. Then they were trapped in a chamber that was going to crush them. In this situation, they have to fuse in order to save themselves but Garnet refuses to because she was still angry at her. 

In the end, they were forced to talk it out, for Garnet to understand Pearl’s reason for wanting to fuse with her and everything worked out well.

The narrative focused so much on Pearl’s self-worth issues at the expense of Garnet’s right to be angry. 

Yes, it showed that Pearl is trying her best to make up for it but Garnet should have been allowed to work at her own anger at her own pace instead of being obligated to consider Pearl’s feelings over her own. 

I wouldn’t have noticed it until someone had mentioned it. Because it was never my experience. 

But it’s there, continuing the message that it’s okay to put the emotional labor on Black people and disregard their own feelings for the sake of the non-Black people who have hurt them -particularly light-skinned women. 

White Fragility and Being Silenced White Woman Tears

Again, racial bias in animation storytelling is often not intentional because white creators do not experience it due to white privilege. 

Without meaning to, that scene alone shows Garnet as the Angry Black woman trope that is ungrateful and rude to Pearl who then ends up in tears. Without meaning to, Pearl with her light skin, became the tearful white girl trope that had to be sympathized over.

The Angry Black Woman trope is a combination of the worst negative stereotypes of a Black woman: overly aggressive, domineering, emasculating, loud, disagreeable and uppity.[13] 

The Tearful white girl trope comes from the combination of the stereotypes of white women being morally upstanding and delicate and therefore should be protected.[13] 

Which, unfortunately, many white women have taken advantage of.

These two tropes are harmful to WOC (Women of Color) because they experience the "weary weaponizing of white women's tears". This tactic employed by many white women incites sympathy and avoids accountability for their actions, turning the tables to their accuser and forcing their accuser to understand them instead.

(Image by Виктория Бородинова from Pixabay)

In "Weapon of lass destruction: The tears of a white woman", Author Shay described that white tears turns a white woman into the priority of whatever space she's in. "It doesn't matter if you're right, once her tears are activated, you cease to exist." [11] 

White woman tears have gotten Black people beaten and lynched such as Emmett Till. Carolyn Bryant who had accused 14 year old Emmett Till of sexually harassing her in 1955, admitted she lied about those claims years later in 2007.[15]

In Awesomely Luvvie's "About the Weary Weaponizing of White Women Tears", she states that the innocent white woman is a caricature many subconsciously embrace because it hides them from consequences. [10]

In The Guardian’s article, "How White Women Use Strategic Tears to Silence Women of Colour", Ruby Hamad shares her experience:

"Often, when I have attempted to speak to or confront a white woman about something she has said or done that has impacted me adversely, I am met with tearful denials and indignant accusations that I am hurting her. My confidence diminished and second-guessing myself, I either flare up in frustration at not being heard (which only seems to prove her point) or I back down immediately, apologising and consoling the very person causing me harm."[4]

This is not to say that all crying white women are insincere. But as activist Rachel Cargle said:

“I refuse to listen to white women cry about something. When women have come up to me crying, I say, ‘Let me know when you feel a little better, then maybe we can talk.’”[3]

One of the most quoted words in “White Fragility: Why It’s So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism.” is this:

“It is white people’s responsibility to be less fragile; people of color don’t need to twist themselves into knots trying to navigate us as painlessly as possible.”[3]  

When white women cry in defense, instead of taking accountability, People of Color are then gaslighted into thinking they’re the bad guy. This is emotional abuse and a manipulation tactic. 

People of Color shouldn’t have to bend backwards to accommodate discomfited white or light-skinned people who have hurt them. 

How She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (SPOP) Did It Right

Despite SPOP having good lgbtq+ representations, there are other biases in the show. Such as Mara, a WOC whose only purpose was to sacrifice herself for the white protagonist. There was also the insensitive joke in their stream regarding Bow’s sibling that perpetuated an Anti-Black stereotype which Noelle Stevenson has apologized for.[14]

But the scene I have encountered where the Black character was validly angry and his feelings were treated well by the narrative, came from SPOP.

Bow, a black character, was validly angry at Glimmer, a lighter skinned character. Glimmer made a lot of bad decisions, one of them was using Adora and their friends as bait, without their knowledge, to lure out and capture Catra.  

Glimmer tearfully apologized in Season 5, Episode 4. Adora readily forgave her. But Bow didn't. 

They faced dangers along the way but the story didn't put them in a dangerous situation where Bow has to forgive Glimmer in order to get out of it. 

This was Glimmer's words of apology:

"Look, I know you're still mad at me. Maybe you'll be mad at me for a really long time. I deserved it. And maybe... maybe we'll never be friends like we used to be. But I'm not going to stop trying to make it better. I made a mistake with the heart of Etheria. I should've listened to you and I'm sorry. You get to be mad. For as long as you need to be. But I'm not going anywhere. And when you're ready, I'll be here."

In short, Bow was allowed to take the time to be mad and not just get over it for someone else’s sake. The story validates his feelings and he was allowed to take his own pace. That is emotional respect the story gave to him.

Example #2: The Narrative Gives Better Endings or Portrayals to Colonizers than Their Victims

Avatar: The Last Airbender has handled dark themes well such as genocide, war, PTSD, disability and redemption with great worldbuilding.

However, I never noticed the racial bias in ATLA until people spoke up of the double standards in ATLA’s treatment of light-skinned colonizers compared to their dark-skinned victims-turned-villains.

The characters in question -Iroh, Azula, Jet and Hama- are all flawed and well-rounded in a believable way. But how the narrative treats them is unequal.

General Iroh is an ex-colonizer who gets to redeem himself and not answer for his past war crimes, living a peaceful life as a tea shop owner. The only reason Iroh changed was when he was personally affected by the negativity of their military subjugation -his son’s death. It wasn’t the harm of the Fire nation ravaging Earth kingdom villages or cities and affecting millions of people that opened his eyes.

Azula, the tyrannical daughter, had closure of her mother's rejection when she was a child and was able to escape imprisonment.

Jet and Hama, victims of colonization who have done bad things, did not get similar conclusions to their stories OR compensation for what they have gone through from the Fire Nation's colonization. 

Jet was given a second chance but was arrested for trying to expose Zuko and Iroh being firebenders -firebenders who were their enemies for conquering their villages. Then he died from the injuries of the person who had brainwashed and mind-controlled him. 

Hama was imprisoned for life. 

Compared to the sins of the light-skinned colonizers, the narrative didn’t give Jet and Hama the development where they could heal from their trauma, receive compensation for what happened to them and really have a chance in life. 

The dark-skinned victims of colonization just became a lesson to the viewers how they shouldn’t hold grudges for being colonized. The end. They have received consequences for their actions but there is no continuation to their stories after that. 

It almost seems like the narrative is saying that because they have harmed colonizers who have no part in their trauma (and in Jet’s case, some Earth kingdom villagers), they are therefore unworthy to be given an actual chance in life. 

While Azula and Iroh, who have actively participated in conquering, colonizing and attacking the Earth Kingdom itself, were.   

Someone once said that if indigenous people have control over Hama’s story, it would have been done differently. But the ATLA crew are white, non-indigenous people who prioritized redeeming colonizers instead.

The narrative has also affected how the ATLA fandom thinks. If most fans are asked who they would want to be redeemed, the popular option would be Azula over Jet or Hama.

Once again, I don’t think the ATLA crew noticed it due to their racial bias. But still, the harm is done and the racially biased message is continued: 

The colonizers and their descendants don’t have to make amends for the colonizers’ crimes. Or if they do, only lightly since it’s in the past (no matter how recent that past is). 

The colonized who rebel will tend to hurt innocent people and then get a grisly end for getting in way over their heads.  

I would venture as far as to say that the narrative may have the  added subconscious desire to quiet their white anxiety on the vengeance of the colonized. As I have learned when writing about Vodou stereotypes and how they have stemmed from the history of white anxiety of Black vengeance, of Black fetishization and of dissolution of the white race through intermarriages.

In @visibilityofcolor’s blog, someone asked:

 “So I saw some of the really heated debates on here and on twitter about how if Iroh and Azula can be portrayed sympathetically despite their actions then characters like Jet and Hama should've been given a chance too. Do you think that the writers understood the implications of only redeeming characters from the colonizer/fascist nation but not giving the characters who suffered because of their fascism a second chance too?”

To which VisibilityOfColor replied:

“No, because at the end of the day, the writers are white. When it comes to stuff like this, it’s no surprise when we see white writers redeem problematic characters before they actually redeem victims of those racist problematic characters. For instance, Dave Filioni, who worked on both avatar and star wars rebels, did the same thing when redeeming agent kallus who was an soldiers in the imperial army and took credit for a genocide. where as victims of the empire were still painted in negative lights. i really don’t think they understand.

They have this ‘be the better person’ view on things, which is what a lot of white people tend to emulate when it comes to people of color standing up to their oppressors. and unfortunately, these are ideas passed on to children, esp minorities. that they should forgive people and communities who hurt them and ‘be the better person’. this is why white ppl don’t need to write narratives for people of color.”

Example #3: The Narrative Favors the Light Skinned Character Than Dark Skinned Character in Similar Situations

I would like to reiterate that racial bias in storytelling is often not intentional. I am not saying the creators and the people who support them are bad people. No.

However, I encourage that once a racial bias is made known in our work, it is our responsibility to change them to stop the perpetuation of its harmful message.

Hazbin Hotel is a popular cartoon with whimsical designs and its concept opens the conversation about redemption. The creator, Vivziepop may not have noticed the racial bias in her cartoon as a white Latina [5] that grew up with and benefits from white privileges, along with the Hazbin crew. 

In the Youtbe video, "Hazbin Hotel - How Art took over Writing", Staxlotl states:

“I understand that there was a lot of time and effort put into this pilot, almost three years worth of effort. But I think most of that time was spent into the art and visuals when it should’ve gone into polishing the writing in the characters.”[6]

Once again, I’m not here to critique the characters but how the narrative treats its dark-skinned characters.

The story treats Charlie, the white-skinned, “Disney-esque” protagonist princess differently from how it treats Vaggie, the dark-skinned, more outspoken and protective Latina girlfriend of Charlie who supports the princess’ cause. 

In its pilot episode, both girls experience humiliation. While Charlie is portrayed by the story as someone the viewers have to feel sorry for...

...Vaggie is portrayed in her humiliation as the butt of the joke for the viewers.

While they both didn’t like what Angel Dust did, Charlie was sympathized over in the narrative as a moment... 

...while Vaggie’s angry but valid callouts were dismissed and ignored as part of the comedy.

While Charlie was someone that needs to be protected in the narrative... 

...Vaggie is left to fend for herself. 

Again, I don’t think the creators noticed the racial bias of their cartoon. However, this racial bias is reflected in the harmful perceptions that dark-skinned women, particularly Black women and Black girls, are more mature, tougher and need less protection at a young age.[7] 

This adultification bias perceives them as challenging authority when they express strong or contrary views and are then given harsher discipline than white girls who misbehave.[8] And this continues when they grow up.

In a 2017 study, Black women and girls aged 12-60 years old confirmed they are treated harsher by their white peers and are accused of being aggressive when they would defend themselves or explain their point of view to authority figures.[8] 

This bias also coincides with the Spicy Latina trope of a brown-skinned, hot-blooded, quick-tempered and passionate woman.

Everyday Feminism described this trope as "Although objects of desire for many, the spicy Latina may have too much personality to handle. So much so that she is often viewed as domineering or emasculating." [16]

Sounds familiar? (Look at Angry Black Woman trope above.)

Why is it that a light-skinned character, Charlie, is allowed to be vulnerable and be sympathized while the dark-skinned Latina character, Vaggie, is mocked, dismissed and expected to tough it out?

Severina Ware had to remind the world in her article that relates to the bias against dark skinned characters:

“Black women are not offered the protection and gentleness of our white counterparts. We are not given permission to be soft and delicate. We are required to exhibit strength and fortitude not only because our lives depend on it, but because so many others depend on us. Black women should not be charged with the responsibility of saving everyone when nobody is here to save us.”[12] 

As @cullenvhenan​ of Tumblr has said in her post:

“if you're a white creator and your brown/black characters are always sassy, reckless, aggressive or cold and your white characters are always soft, demure, shy and introverted you should think about maybe why you did that”

(Image above from Iowa Law Reviews’ “Aggressive Encounters & White Fragility: Deconstructing the Trope of the Angry Black Woman”)

Detecting Your Own Racial Bias

It would be hard. No matter how much you edit and create, you may miss it because it was never your experience. 

So how do we prevent our racial bias from creeping into our creations?

Listen to POC and their feedback.

As @charishjb from Instagram has shared, here is one of the things that we can do (tumblr link here) [9]:

Consider POC voices. Listen to their experiences. Hire sensitivity POC readers. Put multiple POC voices in positions of leadership in creative projects.

Then we can stop the racial bias that perpetuates again and again in the media. I hope for that future.

[aomineavenue]

you existed

Pairings: Levi Ackerman x Reader

Genre: Fluff? Little bit of Angst?

Summary: Requested by Anon - “Can I request a prompt with Levi Ackerman and how he reacts to his F!reader's abusive ex boyfriend approaching her? Sorry for the odd request!”

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: mention of abuse. 

mia speaks: 

This was originally posted on my previous blog, but since I’m still in the process of moving my old works, I’m only doing this now. So if you’ve stumbled onto this before, do not fret, i did not steal it lmao. 

If it’s not too much, please COMMENT on what you think of this piece, or maybe REBLOG if you like it!

Occupying one of the park benches, the two of you sat side by side for a silent second before Levi twists his upper body slightly to face you, wanting to see your face. However before he could speak, you blurt out, "You're ending this aren't you?"

Everyone who knew of the Levi Ackerman was aware of how much of a clean freak he was. With that said, it pretty much meant he was observant, the tiniest of details always grasping his attention. How a wooden shelf nailed to the wall was slightly crooked, or how someone had forgotten to properly twist the tap shut after washing the dishes.

Or even how the slightest brush against the contact of your skin with his own causes you to flinch.

At first, he had been distraught of the thought that you were disgusted by him, how you would never bring yourself for anything intimate like the simple gesture of a hug of greeting or farewell. Not that Levi was an intimate person, despite months of courting you, he was the proper gentleman, reminding you time and time again, that he would only do certain things you were comfortable with, always double-checking with you first if you were satisfied with the plans he had thought of. However, it had been months and the closest contact the both of you had were fingers brushing against each other, and it made him curious as to why. He began to doubt himself, wondering if he was doing something wrong or you were simply not interested of him at all, but the smiles that were etched on your features every time the both of you shared each other's company, were enough to give him hope and as he observed you further, you flinched at almost any contact with anyone, it wasn't just him. It was a good thing that he learned to be patient. He didn't want to push your buttons, somehow, he knew you would eventually tell him when you were ready.

You had caught Levi's interests at the local market, the mere sight of you interacting with the locals was a sight he repeated in his head every single day since he had known you. How you were polite to everyone you came across, how your lips would lift up to a smile, it was breathtaking. And for the first time ever, Levi found himself introducing himself to someone without scaring them off. And ever since, he had been courting you, treating you like the queen he says you deserved.

Today was no different. Levi, despite his very busy schedule, had planned things ahead of time for just a simple date walking about at the local park at Shinganshina District, you, of course, completely smitten of Levi's courtship the past few months agreed wholeheartedly. Levi didn't know it yet, but you could easily read through his features whenever he was doubting, whether it was about the two of you or his work, you had learned how to read the man who barely showed any emotions, you have to admit his rare smiles always made your heart skip.

So as the both of you strolled through the park, despite the multiples noises created by the birds flying by, children playing and the cool air brushing against your exposed skin, the silence from the both of you since Levi had picked you up from your home were enough to worry you.

"Is everything alright?" you break the silence, catching his attention or rather startling him from his thoughts, his sudden startled features causing a soft giggle to slip out of your lips, you tease, "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt you from your thoughts."

He feels his cheeks grow warm from embarrassment, "Ah sorry, I suppose—" he cuts himself off with a sigh, "Can we talk?" You stare at him for a second, doubt growing in the back of your head as you comprehend his words. "It's nothing to worry about, I swear!" he says frantically, probably noticing the worried expression that you had not been able to suppress almost immediately from your features.

Despite the growing doubt in the back of your head, you let your lips curl up to a small smile as you give him a nod, "Let's sit down. I have a feeling this will be a long talk,"

Occupying one of the park benches, the two of you sat side by side for a silent second before Levi twists his upper body slightly to face you, wanting to see your face. However before he could speak, you blurt out, "You're ending this aren't you?"

His eyes widen at your words, completely forgetting his observation of your tendency to flinch from any form of contact as he took your hands in his own. At the sight of you flinching however, he slowly retracted his hands as he mumbles softly underneath his breath, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

Your brows furrow ever so slightly at his apology, "What are you sorry for?"

He debated with himself for a second before rambling, "I just took notice of how you flinch away whenever I touch you. I'm sorry if I make you uncomfortable and that you don't like me that—"

"Levi," you cut him off from his rambling, your features softening upon the realization of what he was implying, "It's not you, i—it's me,"

"What do you mean?" He questions, confuse and curious at the same time. At the sight of your reluctance to speak, he quickly retracts his question, "It's okay if you don't want to talk about it, you know that I don't want you to do anything that you aren't—"

You playfully tease, "You're rambling again, Levi."

"Sorry," he mumbles, feeling his cheeks grow warm once more.

You shake your head at the sight of Levi, this side of him always making your heart flutter as it took a while for him to show this side to you. You smile at him reassuringly, "Don't be sorry, it's cute." Your smile widens at the sight of his scrunched up features at being called cute. "But it's okay, you deserve to know. And I have been thinking of opening up to you for quite some time now, so it's now or never,"

The raven-haired man stays silent, waiting for when you were ready and most certainly not wanting to interrupt, whatever it was you were hiding, it was obviously important. "You see..." You trail off, tearing your gaze away from him as you lean back against the wooden bench, a heavy sigh slipping past your lips, "before you came along in my life, I was in a relationship with someone who I thought was really meant for me. With any blossoming relationship, you were to expect such joy and love from each other. I was over the moon, of course, someone was finally giving me such attention that no other man has, I mean, just look at me."

"I am," he whispers, halting you from your explanation, he meets your gaze with his own; he flashes you a small smile, "and you look absolutely breathtaking,"

You feel your breath hitch at the back of your throat, the corners of your mouth tugging up to a smile, you mumble "Thank you."

The silence from Levi signalled you to continue, "but every relationship has its ups and downs, it was never perfect. That was my mindset throughout our whole relationship. Despite everything he says or does, I wanted to believe that he really did love me. I kept telling myself how lucky I was to have him because no one has ever shown me, such love, before. I was so stuck, I wanted to believe everything was okay because if he leaves, then what?"

"What did..." You hear the hesitance in his voice, "What did he do?"

Lightly nibbling your bottom lip, you lower your gaze down to your hands that were rested on your lap, fidgeting with the tips of your fingers. Fluttering your eyelids shut as memories of your previous relationship resurfaces to the very front of your mind. You fight the emotional wave that wanted to crash and breakthrough the high walls you've built around yourself the past couple of months. "H—he," you stutter, fluttering your eyelids back open as you swallow the lump that formed in the back of your throat, "whenever I did something he disapproved of, he would—"

From beside you, he felt his blood boil. He watches as you crumble before him and he fought the urge to pull you into his arms, to mumble words of comfort and positivity into your ear but he remembered your discomfort of physical contact. However, he wanted to give you some sort of comfort from the mere sight of you fighting the urge to break down. Hesitantly, he reaches out to grasp your hands in his, at the sight of you flinching, he slowly rubs circles against the skin of your hand with the pad of his thumb, trying his best to soothe you.

"It's okay," he mumbles softly, giving your hand a gentle squeeze, "you don't have to tell me everything, I understand. We'll get through this,"

At the mention of getting through whatever you were going through together, not by yourself, but how he phrased his words claiming he would be there for you as well, made your heart swell. Lifting your chin up, you turn your gaze over to the man you had grown to adore and know the past couple of months, your vision becoming glossy from the tears forming in the corners of your eyes, "I—I don't know what to say,"

"Well, such a lovely sight this is."

You feel your heart skip a beat from the intruder's interruption. You didn't even have to look up to see the owner of the voice that interrupted both of you. Spending so much time with each other was enough for you to know who it was.

Levi shifts his attention over to the intruder, arching a brow in curiosity, "Sorry, but we're having a private conversation here. Please, leave."

The intruder lets a scoff leave his lips, furrowing his brows as he shifts his gaze away from you over to the man seated beside you, "Does it look like I care if I'm interrupting? I'd like a word,"

As your name rolls off his tongue, you couldn't help but shudder from both disgust and fear. It had been half a year since you and Marcus ended things with your own terms with the help of your parents and best friend, but that didn't mean he had stopped bothering you and it's not like you could have avoided him forever, no matter how much you prayed to the walls. Threatening letters were constantly sent to your address, but with little money you and your family had, there wasn't much that you could do. He constantly followed you, but escorted by people who knew of the psychopath that Marcus is, he somehow kept his distance, creepily watching you from afar. Complaints were never taken seriously by the MPs, so as much as possible, you stayed indoors avoiding society as much as you could, only leaving when necessary, but even then, with someone escorting you, you never felt safe.

Marcus calls you once more and you flinch from the harshness of his tone, not wanting to drag Levi into the wrath Marcus would create that you're all too familiar with and for the situation to grow worst in public, you were slowly getting up to your feet but was pulled back by the man who continued to hold your hand protectively. Your eyes widen from this, shifting your gaze over to Levi who was now glaring at Marcus. You feel Levi giving your hand a gentle squeeze before he releases his grip to push himself to stand from his seat.

Marcus scoffs as Levi approaches him, "I don't know who you think you are but my father is part of a MPs and you wouldn't—"

His words were instantly put to a halt, you weren't able to comprehend what was happening before you. One moment Marcus was speaking as cocky as he usually would, and in one swift movement, Levi has Marcus pinned to the ground, his face pressed harshly and uncomfortably against the cobblestones, hands behind his back as Levi's foot keeps his hands in place. The sight was enough for the people within the vicinity to stop and look, probably wanting to gossip, and it was enough for you to wince, you didn't know whether you wanted to be afraid of Levi's abilities or happy that Marcus was somehow put in his place.

"Does it look like I care for who you are?" Levi speaks, his features calm as he continues to pin Marcus in place, "if your so-called father is a part of that lousy regiment, send him over to our office so we can discuss charges for his abusive son."

Noticing the growing crowd, you push yourself to stand and inched closer to Levi. You avoid Marcus as much as you could as you reach out for Levi's arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Come on Levi," you whisper, giving him a soft smile, "he isn't worth it. Let's leave."

He stares at you for a moment before lowering his gaze to your grip on his shoulder, nodding slowly. Giving the man he had pinned down one harsh step on the wrist with the heel of his shoe, he mentally smirked to himself when Marcus yelps in pain. "Tch. Don't try any more ideas, if I see you within the vicinity I will not hesitate. For once, you're lucky she was here to save you."

The two of you move away, not bothering to glance back at Marcus who was spewing profanities towards your direction, nor did you give an ounce of attention to the gossiping crowd. Your eyes flicker over to the man that walked beside you, noticing his tensed shoulders. Without second-guessing yourself, you grab his hands with your own, lacing your fingers together much to Levi's surprise, but of course, he wasn't going to complain. "I'm sorry about Marcus,"

You felt him give your hand a gentle squeeze, "you have nothing to be sorry about, that bastard had it coming. Never apologize for that, I'll make sure he doesn't go anywhere near you again."

"I'm not sorry about that, you're right. He had it coming," you agree with a nod, a small smile playing on your lips as you feel Levi's thumb again brushing against your skin, "I'm sorry that I kept this from you for so long, you deserved to know the truth from the very start and—"

Levi's footsteps stop causing you to halt in place, and you look at him curiously, "You don't have to be sorry about that, either. What you went through was awful and it wouldn't be easy to get over or even talk about it. Stop beating yourself up for this. I trust you, I will continue to trust you as you get through this. We'll get through this, one step at a time. Nothing you say or do will change my mind about—"

Interrupting him, you throw your hands around him and nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, letting out a sob. His words were enough to make your heart swell, tears once again forming in your eyes as you cling onto him tightly. "I don't know what I did to deserve someone like you,"

He hears you mumble against his skin, his arms snaking around your waist to hold you close to him. He nuzzles his nose into your hair, inhaling your scent as he releases a content sigh. From the very start, he knew you were worth it. It didn't matter to him how long it would take for you to see what he sees, but he vows to himself that he would. "Simple," he murmurs softly, "You existed."

[talkfantasytome]

In Defense of Misogyny?

NOPE!

Before I start, I will not be defending misogyny. There is no defense for misogyny. I'm just a bit of a bitch who couldn't resist a controversial title. *shrug*

I saw a conversation recently about how horrible it is that the fandom loves Eris and is quick to hate Mor. I was going to post my response in a reblog, but I realized that, on top of the post ending up very long, I wasn't fully responding to the conversation at hand. I was sharing my own thoughts that only semi-relate.

If you're interested in that convo, you can find it here.

However, I am not going to directly respond to this, because the conversation made good points. And I very much agree, in theory, that we should not be more forgiving of males than females in general.

Instead, I just want to share my own feelings on why it may not be misogyny to like Eris and dislike Mor, and the main questions to ask to understand that.

First and foremost - I would like to state that we can not and should not hold women to a higher standard than men. In this, I hands down agree.

I will also agree that it absolutely can be sexist/misogynistic to love Eris and hate Mor. However, as someone who, while in the throes of ACOSF, was upset with Mor and still liked Eris (or, enjoyed him? I love Eris, but I'm not always 100% sure I truly love him, or the character and the mystery behind him and my own hopes of who he might actually be), I don't consider myself or my reasons to have been sexist.

Also, I would like to point out that I did not end ACOSF still very upset with Mor. My current feelings are that I hope to see more of her to fall back in love with the character, as I did love her, for the most part, especially in ACOMAF. And I totes ship Mor/Emerie.

That being said, I think we have to take a moment to consider a multitude of factors around why one might currently be more forgiving of Eris than Mor, as well as other pieces, that may or may not show this as true misogyny.

1. Why are we mad at Mor?

Personally, for me, yes, I don't love that Mor hasn't said anything to Az, even in the vein of just telling him it's not going to happen. It's not that she must do this, or that Az deserves that, specifically. It's more that it would be the right thing to do. But, I'm not mad at Mor for this, because I understand why she doesn't. Similarly, there is no male character who I'm solely mad at because they kept a secret.

No, what hurt me the most about Mor - and yes, hurt me is the best way to describe it - was her complete disdain and hatred for Nesta. I am, generally speaking, biased toward Nesta, and I do recognize this. But it doesn't change where I came from. She was horrible to Nesta almost from the get go. Sure, she brought Nesta to the Night Court and then, the next time we see them together, Mor is snapping at Nesta. She basically ignores Nesta when Nesta decides to join them for the High Lord's meeting. She causes Cassian to pull his hand away from Nesta during the war - which, admittedly, was a Cass action I'm still waiting for an explanation on, but it still had to do with her. Cassian was doing that for her, which means that he believed him holding Nesta's hand might hurt Mor or something - why? What is it that makes Mor soooo against this compared to everyone else? It's either a selfish reason - i.e. the buffer thing - or it goes back to her just hating Nesta the most. She then basically yells at Nesta for waiting at Cassian's tent when he's injured - for caring for Cassian. And then, in SF, when we first see her she is insulting Nesta to Cassian, and then straight to Nesta's face.

Perhaps it is all about feeling like Nesta brings her friends pain. Perhaps it is a fear of how Nesta could change the inner circle. But, we are never given Mor's full reasons, and even other POVs don't really give us anything to go off of. So all we see is Mor hating Nesta.

We see Mor hating a woman who has just gone through some serious trauma. Multiple traumas, really. And she probably disliked Nesta even as a human, though again we didn't really see them interact, only Mor being shocked at Cassian's declaration to Nesta. Which can't help but make you wonder if that played any part, too.

So, in the end, what made me the most hurt by Mor's actions toward Nesta, and words about Nesta, was the fact that Mor seemed to not care at all about what Nesta was actually dealing with, she only cared that Nesta was being a bitch.

Mor - who has faced her own horrific traumas, yet can't see it in herself to give someone else who has faced trauma the benefit of the doubt. Mor - who was so kind to Feyre, and very forgiving of Feyre basically ignoring her that first time she was in the Night Court, understanding Feyre's trauma. Mor was holding Nesta to a double standard. Basically, my hurt and anger toward Mor stemmed from the same anger that went into that original post - anger at a double standard toward a female who is suffering from trauma. Because Mor, one who often seemed posed as a defender of woman, a representation of how one can heal and grow from trauma, but how that trauma will still always affect them, couldn't find it in herself to even understand that Nesta was dealing with her own trauma, and what she needed was healing and help. Not insults and being thrown into the Hewn City.

Is it not maybe understandable how it would actually be harder to forgive Mor for showing such a double standard? For showing such little care or sympathy toward someone who has faced her own trauma? How saying that Mor should be loved because she has gone through so much might be almost hypocritical, considering who Mor is showing hatred toward?

I do understand how Nesta could hit closer to home. She sees Nesta to be as bad as the people she was raised with. But, honestly, that doesn't make it better. It just reminds me that Mor is actually often blind to the truth when she doesn't want to believe it or face it. She runs from it, she fights it, and while she is in her right to do so, it is not okay to do so by hurting another person, another woman who has also been through more trauma than Mor even realizes.

I don't find that anger, or upset (which is really more how I felt about Mor) to be a form of misogyny, at least not on its own. Because my feelings for other characters, my interpretations of their actions, may be wholly different, and it's not that I'm holding Mor to a higher standard. It's that I hold certain issues above others, and to me, holding people to a double standard is at the top of the list on what will annoy me about someone else the most.

2. Who else are we mad at? Is it only Mor? Or are there others we are also mad at, and for what reasons?

We should also consider who else a person is mad at, if not Eris, to see are they really holding Mor/women to a higher standard.

Using myself, again - the person I came out of ACOSF the most mad with/upset about was, hands down, Rhys. Not Mor. In fact, by the end of the book, I'd lightened a lot toward Mor, because I did see how Mor was changing and adjusting. She saw Nesta healing, and her attitude toward Nesta shifted. And, to be perfectly honest, I am SERIOUSLY HOPING we will see them have a heart-to-heart, get to know each other, get to understand each other, apologize to each other (especially Mor for how she's treated Nesta, and the things she said to her when Nesta was literally depressed and dealing with PTSD - cause those things weren't okay) and come out the other side, if not as friends, than at least as two females who respect each other. Because I think we all, including Mor and Nesta, need that. But, despite that, we did at least see Mor be better with Nesta. It showed Mor's openness to possibly accepting a new truth about Nesta, which I was happy to see.

Now, back to who are we mad at. Like I said, even if we're considering the middle of ACOSF, when I was fully upset with Mor, my feelings toward her never got to where they still are with Rhys - I don't care about his gifts, until he proves to me he actually cares even a little bit about Nesta as her own person and not as Feyre's sister, I will struggle with him. So, again, can we argue that my feelings were misogynistic if, in the end, my greatest anger was actually toward a man?

On top of that, my anger toward Rhys is far more aligned to what I was feeling about Mor. Because, again, it was about his treatment of a character dealing with trauma. If anything, my double standard is toward Rhys. I don't think it's a double standard, because my expectations of Rhys were higher considering his previous actions, and how he supposedly cared about all of his people. Not because he was a man, but because of what we see from him vs. Mor, particularly in ACOWAR. And, also, you know - Rhys did other things that made me super mad. Mor never threatened Nesta's life, for example.

Conversely, any anger I've have toward Eris (and, I'll admit, there's still a bit), entirely surrounds what he did/didn't do 500 years ago. I'll go into more detail on why I may offer my forgiveness in the next section, but in regards to the anger - I don't see these aligned. My anger toward Rhys and Mor revolve mostly around double standards they seem to have and a lack of understanding or caring for someone who is clearly struggling with trauma. Something that, personally, I think they should both be on the side of truly understanding, considering their own experiences. Eris, on the other hand, it's an anger for leaving Mor to die. I'm not saying that this is a "better" thing to do, it's just that the two angers don't align. I'm not holding Mor to a higher standard, because I do not see the two as the same. Thus, their paths toward forgiveness may look very different, because I will be looking for different things in each of them.

3. What is the person now doing? Have they earned forgiveness?

I'm not saying Eris has earned forgiveness. I'm not saying Mor hasn't. That is up for all of us to interpret.

That being said, what we've seen from Mor does not include any signs of regret for her actions. We do not see her actively trying to make things better between her and Nesta, to understand Nesta, or that she has any sorrow for what she said to her. At best, we see Mor polite to Nesta, and maybe willing to get to know her better. The absolute best interaction was at Solstice, when Mor asked if she might be able to join. As I mentioned, I am hopeful for these two - in part cause my head canon is that they could actually be amazing friends, but that's for another day - and I really loved seeing Mor willing and interested to join in, despite it being with Nesta (and kinda Nesta's thing), as well as seeing Nesta being willing and interested to have Mor join, even if it's just solely for the priestesses. But, that is one interaction and, again, doesn't actually show any repentance from Mor for her own actions against Nesta.

I know some people will say "you mean just that one 'mean' thing Mor said?" - yes. Though it wasn't just that one time, was it? Because there have been multiple times Mor has shown a true disdain for Nesta, while also showing a true indifference to the fact that Nesta was struggling. The other best example of this was when Cassian was hurt in the war, and Nesta was waiting outside his tent, clearly terrified. Mor, also upset, by many things, took it almost entirely out on Nesta. She was either blind to Nesta's feelings for Cassian (doubtful), or she simply didn't care, and instead snapped at her, all while Nesta was probably terrified and fearing the worst in her mind.

The two never talked about this either. And we don't know if Mor regrets those things she's done and said, or even just feels bad, and we also don't have a full understanding of her reasons, or even if there are valid reasons. Because she doesn't talk about it - or, at least, we haven't see her talk about it. I truly hope we will get some answers to all of this. But, right now, we don't even really get hints - we simply assume she must have a reason, because she's Mor and she's great and so she must have a reason we can understand and accept. Still, we don't know, and we don't see her even be held accountable for those actions - admittedly, an issue with most of the Inner Circle and the lack of them being held accountable for how they've treated certain people.

Eris, on the other hand, while what he did was truly horrific, has admitted that he really regrets his actions - or inactions. And he has stated that he had his reasons - reasons that cost him. So we know that he has, in fact, paid for what he's done, at least to some extent. And, more so than that, his current actions seem, to me, to prove this. His constant attempts to ally with the Night Court, to try and do the right thing. Yes, when we saw him at the High Lord's meeting, he was wrong to say what he did to Mor. But we also cannot hold that at full face value and be mad at him for that one thing without remaining mad at Rhys for all he's done while wearing his High Lord of the Night Court mask. Again, that would be a double standard. We can be annoyed by it, but if we forgive Rhys for playing a part, we must also forgive Eris. (This statement, of course, is based on my interpretation that Eris is good at heart, but has made a number of mistakes and is essentially forced to be awful due to his place in life.)

However, despite that one thing, everything else we see from Eris, seems repentant. It is, of course, my interpretation of Eris. But considering all the things he's done, the little threads we get that show us he's not the awful monster we were told he is. He has been working to earn forgiveness, and is doing the right things now - just still often wearing that Autumn Court mask. And, if we're going to forgive Rhys for all the monstrous things he's done, because he has shown himself to be better than that, then it's okay to at least consider forgiving Eris.

So, why is it wrong to be willing to forgive someone for something that he has shown he is seeking forgiveness for? But to maybe not be forgiving another for something that she has not sought forgiveness for? Can we forgive someone for something if they don't realize what they did was wrong? In my opinion, no. Yes, people say that the only person you ever really need forgiveness from is yourself. And I don't fully disagree - I think we do need to forgive ourselves. But, again, only once we understand what we did, how and why it was wrong, and when we want forgiveness. Then we forgive ourselves, and at the least can hope that our actions show that we understand this truth, and others may forgive us even if we don't ask blatantly. In the end, though, we do need to ask for forgiveness. It's just a matter of whether we are vocalizing that request, or showing it in our actions.

Summary

Again, I'm not saying that there aren't times where this is a true double standard. Where people just love Eris and hate Mor, and maybe even blame Mor for what went down with Eris (and, if they do, I will fight them on that because Mor is blameless in that situation - idgaf if she slept with Cassian, I will not blame her for wanting out of that marriage).

I am also not trying to convince anyone that they should love Eris, or that they should dislike Mor - especially seeing as I don't fully dislike Mor, I'm just waiting for the best Mor to come back.

I'm only saying that we really can't make assumptions and say that loving Eris and hating Mor automatically means misogyny. Some things hit closer to home than others - as I mentioned as a possible reason why Nesta is such a struggle for Mor. It could very well be solely about what it is they do and don't forgive each person for. And, personally, I think finding out if a person who is angry with Mor was also angry with Rhys during ACOSF is a much better gauge than comparing Mor and Eris.

I don't believe that Mor owes anyone any explanations. Clearly, my own feelings around Mor have really not revolved around what she may or may not be hiding about Eris. Of course I want to know, I'm a nosy reader. But, if she's hiding something for her friends about that, she has her reasons and I'll accept them so long as they don't end up being, like "well, I just wanted you all to hate Eris forever". But, typically, Mor's reasons have to do with her own trauma and fears, and I accept that. It may, at times, be self-centered - but sometimes don't we all need to be a bit self-centered?

However, I think that we need to truly compare the anger, compare the reasons, to understand why some might like one character and dislike another. It is not feminist to automatically support a woman if she is in the wrong. It is not misogynistic to forgive a man and not a woman for two entirely different situations and reasons. We have to remember that feminism is supporting gender equality in every way - workplace, personal lives, laws, etc. Feminism is not supporting female superiority, which is exactly what happens when you compare two people for things that are not comparable, and then state that you must be more forgiving of the female.

After Thoughts on Mor

I am truly hopeful that we will see Mor and Nesta's relationship grow. And I would like to see more of the Mor we met in ACOMAF, tbh. I have felt, as has been observed by others, that Mor's character and journey has been incredibly chaotic and inconsistent. She was the bomb.com in ACOMAF with how she was with Feyre. Then, in ACOWAR, she was a bit moody, she was mean and harsh toward Nesta (and still has explaining to do on some of this and the Cassian stuff), and she just wasn't really who we met in ACOMAF. I don't really remember much about ACOFAS. But, in ACOSF, again, Mor was different. Except, instead of being just moody and harsh toward Nesta when pushed, now she's completely unforgiving and dismissive of Nesta. And, honestly, that wasn't the Mor I was expecting. I would have expected Mor to be one of the first to maybe realize that Nesta was dealing with trauma. I guess that expectation shouldn't have been held considering ACOWAR, but it was different. I still thought Mor might understand, to an extent - might be at least willing to help Nesta heal, or want to see her healed. Instead, we got someone who said Nesta should just be thrown into the Hewn City - to Cassian's face. So, on top of not giving a damn about Nesta at all (the female that saved Cassian's life, full stop), she also didn't show much caring or understanding of Cassian, one of her best friends. Not until after she saw what a comment like that did to him. And yes, Mor may be just dealing with her own trauma, I understand that. It's why I still have a hard time saying I was truly angry with Mor, but more hurt by/upset with her in ACOSF. Because it may be something deeper that caused her to be this way. Or just her own preoccupation with what's going on in her life. But, in the end, it was still targeted at one person, the one person who probably could handle it the least.

That's my long winded way of saying that I have a lot of hope for Mor's character in the future, and that I don't actually hate her. I just hope that we get to understand her better, understand the reasons she's had for what she's done, but I also hope we see her held accountable (and the rest of the IC).

As always, this is just my own personal opinion, and I accept that others' opinions may be different. I promise to respect yours, all I ask is that you respect mine. I'm not opposed to dissenting arguments, just asking for no attacks. :)

[spine-buster]

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 20

A/N:  Remember to like, reblog, yell in the tags, and support your friendly neighbourhood fic writers.  We appreciate it more than you think!  And thanks for all the positive feedback on my double post last week!  This chapter focuses more on Aberdeen and Siena’s sisterhood.  Hope you enjoy!  

February 15th, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom was in a taxi.

With the Canadian Tire Centre being in Kanata, Aberdeen needed a taxi to get into downtown Ottawa, and judging by what Siena told her about the bus, she wasn’t going to trust it to take her there.  They were meeting at Chez Lucien, a gastro bar in the ByWard Market that Siena apparently frequented a lot with her law school friends.  Aberdeen had come to visit Siena in Ottawa a few times since she began law school, and every time Siena took her to a different place.  It was nice, because she got to see more of what Ottawa had to offer, and what Siena’s life was like here as opposed to in Toronto, but a part of Aberdeen wished they had a ‘spot’.  

Siena had been waiting, as she was able to walk to Chez Lucien from where she lived near campus.  Aberdeen was kicking the snow off her boots and unwrapping all her layers at the door as she watched Siena scroll through her phone in a booth in the middle of the room.  The restaurant was pretty busy with the lunch time crowd, and the food already smelled delicious.  “How do you deal with all this snow?” she asked as she approached the table.

Siena shrugged.  “You get used to it, I guess.  Did you get here okay?”

Aberdeen nodded as she slipped into the booth.  “It’s quite the trek, though.  Make sure you leave early tonight.”

“I don’t think it would matter if I missed the first five minutes,” Siena said.

Aberdeen noticed a certain tone in Siena’s voice that made her realize this wasn’t going to be a nice, relaxing lunch with her older sister.  For how close they were and for how much Aberdeen loved Siena with every fibre of her being, Siena…could be a bitch sometimes.  It was usually drama with friends that did it, or bad grades – Siena hated getting bad grades.  She couldn’t compartmentalize her anger like Aberdeen could.  Siena couldn’t leave her anger at school and be happy while out with someone else.  She brought that anger with her and, while she hid it better in front of friends, she didn’t hide it in front of Aberdeen, meaning Aberdeen usually got the brunt end of it.  “Probably not, but MLSE comped the ticket, so it would be nice if you showed up on time.”

“The burgers are really good here,” Siena said, dropping it.  

Aberdeen opened the menu and looking at the list of burgers.  “So what is it?  A bad mark?  Professor piss you off?” she asked without looking up from the menu.  

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.  Now what do you want?”

The conversation flowed uncomfortably.  There were a few awkward pauses, which was unusual for the sisters, and though the food was good, Aberdeen could tell Siena wasn’t really all there.  There was something else occupying her mind that wasn’t allowing her to be fully present with Aberdeen.  Aberdeen wasn’t necessarily pissed off, because she certainly went through her moods too, but Siena wasn’t even trying to make an effort.  Aberdeen decided not to say anything.  It was for the best.

“So you look different,” Siena said, picking at the last of her fries and ketchup.

“I do?” Aberdeen asked.  “How so?”

“I don’t know,” Siena shrugged.  “Your hair’s a bit different.”

“Well, I attempted a blowout, but you know how that goes with me.”

“Does William like it when your hair is straight as opposed to your frizzy curls?” Siena asked, popping a fry into her mouth.

Aberdeen furrowed her brows.  “Who cares what William likes?” Aberdeen asked.  “I sure as hell don’t.”

“You don’t?”

“Siena, come on.  When have I ever changed myself for a guy?” Aberdeen asked.  She didn’t have a history of it at all, so she didn’t know why Siena would imply such a thing.  “I know that William and I are in this weird little…I don’t know, dance, but that doesn’t mean I’m changing myself so he’ll like me more or whatever.”  Aberdeen knew she didn’t have to.  She knew that William liked her – loved her – just as she was.  He’d never asked her to change anything about herself, and actually got mad when Saylor made that off-handed comment about her nose.  

“Are you sneaking around with him?” Siena asked suddenly.

Aberdeen was taken aback by the question.  She furrowed her brows and dropped her jaw, offended.  “What?!  NO!” she exclaimed.  She scared herself for how easily and emphatically she had just lied to her sister.  

“Are you lying to me?” Siena asked.

“Why would you even think that?” Aberdeen pressed.  “What the hell, Siena?  Do you honestly think I would jeopardize my job like that?  The job I work so hard in?  The job that might lead me to do what I actually want to do?  You honestly think I’d burn this bridge?”

“I don’t know.  You’ve done stupid shit in the past, Aberdeen.”

Aberdeen felt tears well in her eyes.  She always knew Siena could be a bitch when she wanted to, but right now, she was being just downright mean.  It was hard not to take it personally.  “Wow.  Thanks Siena.”

“I’m just stating the obvious.”

“I love the faith you have in me.”

“It’s not that I don’t have faith in you,” Siena said.  “I just saw the way you looked at him on Christmas when he showed up.  And more importantly, I saw the way he looked at you.  And I know – or I at least have a feeling – that you wouldn’t be able to resist him if he actually came on to you.”

“That’s a bit rich coming from the girl who told us to sneak up to our room alone after watching an episode Brooklyn 9-9.”

“Don’t deflect this and put this on me, Aberdeen,” Siena narrowed her eyes.  “You’re the vulnerable one in this situation when it comes to him.  I mean you’ve already slept together.  You slept together after knowing each other for what?  A few hours?  I mean, if you’d had the decency to wait, you wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place.”

Aberdeen’s eyes stung from trying to hold back her tears.  She couldn’t even look at her sister.  Instead, she focused on her hands in her lap, twiddling nervously with the ring William got her.  “Are you done?” she asked, her voice cracking slightly.  “I mean it, are you done?”

“Aberdeen—”

“Is this why you asked me to lunch?  So you could make me feel like complete shit?” Aberdeen asked indignantly.

“You’re choosing to feel that way.  I’m not making you.”

Aberdeen pushed her chair back dramatically.  She refused to participate in this conversation anymore.  Actually, it wasn’t even a conversation – it was a sabotage.  She snatched her purse off the back of her chair and grabbed her coat and scarf before walking away from the table, not even caring that she was walking out on her sister and sticking her with both bills.  By the time she had reached the door, throwing her jacket over her shoulders and wrapping her scarf around her neck, there were already tears falling.  

She walked up the street, not even knowing where she was going and where she was going to end up, and she didn’t bother taking her phone out to check.  Instead, she cried.  She cried about the things her sister said to her.  She cried about how she lied to her sister.  But more than anything, she cried about how awful she felt, how it felt like her heart was in the pit of her stomach, how her mind was racing about what she was doing with William and how wrong it was but how happy she was when she was with him.  She was so conflicted.  She was being pulled in opposite directions; quartered in the town square for everyone to see for the sins she was committing.  

Aberdeen knew she fucked up.  She knew.  She knew the moment William stepped into that elevator and shook her hand.  She didn’t need anybody to tell her that, or to remind her of the mistakes she’d made.  But she didn’t have regrets.  Maybe she should, but she didn’t.  She loved William.  She wasn’t supposed to, but she did.  She knew they would be able to keep this a secret; she had faith that it wouldn’t affect her future career prospects.  She had to have faith, because if she didn’t, it was all for naught.  If she didn’t have faith, then she really was stupid.

People stared at her as she walked down the street crying, her hands stuffed into her jacket pockets.  She barely wiped her tears away, wearing them with pride instead.  They’d freeze to her face eventually, she thought, and then she’d look like an ice queen.  Maybe that would be good for her.  

Aberdeen continued to weave through the streets – turning right, left right, left, left, right – until she happened upon Notre Dame Cathedral Basilica, the famous Catholic Church in Ottawa.  She’d been there before, with her family, when they visited Siena for the first time and Orla dragged everybody there for a Sunday mass.  The cathedral was visually stunning, with its neo-Gothic architecture, classic arches, blue ceiling, and stained-glass windows.  Weirdly, Aberdeen loved ecclesiastical architecture.  It was probably Orla’s influence.  Aberdeen always pictured herself getting married in an old church like this, should she ever get married.  Whenever she was in a Catholic church, she was reminded of her childhood.  Of Orla dragging her and Siena (and when he was born, Camden) to Our Lady of Sorrows Catholic Church on Bloor Street West every Sunday.  Of her mom kneeling and praying for her family back in Northern Ireland.  Of attending catechism classes with her classmates so she could receive the Eucharist and have her confirmation.  Of her dad sitting with them and being in church too for all those major milestones even though he had his own faith.  In its own weird way, it reminded her of home, of routine.  The routine of dipping a finger in holy water and bowing, of finding a pew and kneeling for a quick personal prayer.  For standing and singing and kneeling and praying.  Kneeling and praying.  Kneeling and praying.

So it was no wonder, then, that when she entered the cathedral, despite the tourists that lingered throughout the aisles and alcoves taking pictures and lighting candles, it was so easy for her to find the holy water and bow.  It was easy for her to find a pew.  It was easy for her to sit, and to look forward at the altar.  

It was easy for her to cry.

***

Aberdeen cried out everything she had in her in Notre Dame.  It was massively therapeutic.  And when she was done, she took a taxi back to the arena.  

She’d cried so much that her eyes were still red, that her skin was blotchy even where she was wearing makeup and was very blotchy in the places where the tears had washed her makeup away.  She knew she’d probably get asked about it, but she didn’t really care.  She wondered if the men she worked with would even notice.

As she walked through the back corridors and into a room, the first person that she saw was Peter.  Her body stiffened.  She had barely seen him since the All-Star Game – only saw him in passing or from across the arena, really – and she was too scared to ask whether he had switched departments, gotten demoted, or the like.  She hadn’t spoken to him since, and her heart beat rapidly in her chest the second his eyes landed on her.  He probably still wanted to kill her.

That’s why she was thoroughly shocked when he gave her a large smile.  

“How’ve you been?” he asked as he walked towards her.  

“How have I been?  Where have you been?” she asked back, trying not to freak out.  The last time she’d seen him, he’d been so angry.  Now he was acting as if nothing was wrong.  She thought he’d hate to see her and spit over his shoulder the second he saw her.

“We’re going to need to celebrate,” he said, his voice giddy.  “I feel like getting champagne,” he continued, looking around for something to drink.  He saw a bunch of Gatorade bottles and handed one to her before taking one for himself. 

“Uh…okay,” she played along.  The Gatorade would have to do.  “What are we toasting?”

“We are toasting, my dear, to the dream job.  The one that a million people wanted,” he smiled.

Aberdeen was confused.  “Which I got months ago…”

He rolled his eyes playfully.  “I’m not talking about you.”

That piqued her interest.  She narrowed her eyes at him.  “Mhm…go on…”

“Brendan and Kyle invested a lot of time and effort into me.  I came on board basically when Kyle did.  At the beginning I was doing everything – social media, communications, PR, the works,” he began.  “But then there was that opening in hockey operations…and they needed someone they could trust…” he trailed off.

Aberdeen knew about the open job in hockey ops.  They’d received numerous applications.  The opening was a huge deal and people were clamouring at the opportunity because jobs there didn’t come up often.  “Uh huh…”

“And that someone would be me.”

Aberdeen’s jaw dropped.  “You got the hockey ops job?!” she screamed.

“YES!” he screamed out loud.  His giddy laughter and excited little jumps and jitters told Aberdeen he was more than just happy – he was ecstatic.  It was probably a position he wanted more than anything.  “Aberdeen, they even put me up for it!  I mean can you imagine!”

Aberdeen’s eyes bulged out.  That was some interesting bit of news.  It meant that Brendan and Kyle knew they were going to promote Peter.  But that didn’t matter right now.  All that mattered was how ecstatic Peter was and his new position with the Leafs.  “But…but you’re leaving.  I can’t imagine taking on Brendan and Kyle without you.”

“I know, I know, but I’m so excited though.  This is the first time in almost three years I’m going to be able to call the shots in my job!  Oh my God!” he shrieked.  “I’m going to be able to come to Ottawa, Montreal, New York, Philly, Chicago…and actually be involved in the hockey process.”

He was happy.  So incredibly happy.  And Aberdeen could only be happy for him.  She unscrewed and raised her Gatorade bottle.  “Well, congratulations Peter.  You deserve it.”

“You bet your ass I do,” he giggled, unscrewing his own Gatorade bottle and crashing it against hers.  Aberdeen laughed as they both took their gulps of the drink.  “I’m sorry I got mad at you before the All-Star Game,” he said once he was finished drinking.  “I was really out of line.”

“It’s alright,” she said.  “I knew it meant the world to you.”

“Yeah, but I was really mean,” he said.  “I said you didn’t deserve it, but we both know that you did.  You’ve been working hard since you got here and I was just…you know, being a dick about it.”

“I’ve had worse things said to me,” she shrugged.  An understatement considering where she had just come from.  “But thank you for your apology.”

He held his Gatorade bottle up again.  “To the Toronto Maple Leafs,” he toasted.

Aberdeen smiled, raising her own bottle.  “To the Toronto Maple Leafs.”

***

“So, how was lunch with Siena?” Brendan asked as he went over some last-minute notes before he and Aberdeen would make their way to the press box and meet Kyle for the game.  Knowing that Siena was coming to the game tonight to support her sister was nice.  Aberdeen made it adamantly clear her sister wasn’t exactly the biggest fan of hockey, but was coming to the game to support her more than anything.  That was fine with Brendan.  

Aberdeen shrugged her shoulders.  She’d hoped Brendan wouldn’t ask about it because she still wasn’t over it.  “I ended up going to church.”

He looked at her skeptically.  “Church?”

“I got into a fight with my sister,” she explained curtly.

“About what?”

Aberdeen shook her head.  Like she was going to tell him.  “Not important.”

“Well…what made you go to church?” he pressed.  He seemed genuinely concerned about the fact that she’d gone to a house of worship after fighting with her sister.  Had it been that bad?  

Aberdeen knew he was curious because he was worried, not curious because he wanted to pry.  Because of that, she knew she had to choose her words carefully as to not reveal too much but also not reveal too little so that he’d ask more questions.  She couldn’t find them.  She didn’t know what to say to him without it leading to her giving it all away and getting fired on the spot.  “I just needed some semblance of…normalcy back in my life after the fight,” she said, knowing Brendan wouldn’t understand.  

“Aberdeen, I have absolutely no clue what that means,” he deadpanned jokingly, causing her to giggle slightly.  “But if church helped…well, good,” he said, focusing back on his notes.

Aberdeen nodded.  She wanted the topic of conversation to be dropped, and she knew the best way to do that.  “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

She knew it was going to come out as a statement more than a question.  “You and Kyle…you guys knew you were promoting Peter to the hockey ops position.”

“Yes…”  He was still looking down at his notes, and he wasn’t sure where she was going with this.

“So why’d you make me tell him about the All-Star Game?”

Brendan stopped focusing on his notes, instead looking at Aberdeen.  He knew that she wasn’t accusing him of anything, and not complaining that she had to do what she did; she just wanted answers.  Apparently she’d seen Peter.  Apparently they’d talked.  “So Peter told you we put him up for the hockey ops job, then,” he started.

“He did.”

Brendan nodded his head.  “We needed to toughen you up, Aberdeen.”

It was Aberdeen’s turn to look at Brendan skeptically.  “Toughen me up?”

“Listen—don’t get me wrong, because you’ve been doing a great job,” Brendan began.  “But you…you need to do things that make you uncomfortable, Aberdeen.  You know…uh…” he was trying to find the right words.  “You know how a glowstick needs to be cracked in order to shine?”

“That’s literally the weirdest analogy I’ve ever heard anyone make,” she said.

“You needed to crack a bit,” he said firmly.  “You needed to break someone’s heart.  This is a tough business and this is a tough world and it’ll happen to you too.  And I want you to be prepared to have to do those sorts of things.  Because you’ll be successful once you leave here and you’ll have to do them.  You’ll thank me later.”

Judging by his tone, Aberdeen knew Brendan wasn’t going to entertain any other options.  She couldn’t say anything to make him think otherwise.  “Okay…well, then I think you’ll be happy to know that I broke his heart when I told him he wasn’t going to the All-Star Game.  And you and Kyle put it back together by promoting him.”

“I know that,” he said.  He looked down at his notes one more time before pushing his chair back.  “Now let’s go.”

***

Are they playing well?  I wouldn’t know.

Aberdeen stared at the text message from Siena as she sat in the back of the press box, Brendan and Kyle watching the game intently and in full view of the cameras.  She was surprised Siena still came after the afternoon they’d had.  There was less than five minutes left in the first period, and Auston had already scored.  She didn’t know if she should respond.  She wondered if that made her a bad sister.

When the buzzer rang for the end of the period, Brendan swiveled in his chair and looked back at her.  “Is Siena here?” he asked.  Aberdeen nodded her head.  “Go find her.”

“But you asked me to—”

“Go find her and go talk to her,” he interrupted, giving her a look.  “Go.”

Aberdeen got up from her seat, her credentials jingling down the hallway as she texted Siena back.  

Where are you sitting?

They put me six rows behind the Leafs bench.  Section 106.  Can you come meet me right outside the tunnel?

By the time Aberdeen got there (she speed walked so they had more time together, so what?), Siena was already waiting.  When Siena saw her, she stuffed her phone into her pocket.  “Were you up in the box?” she asked.

“I always am.”

Siena nodded, staying quiet for a moment.  “Listen…I…I’m sorry about today,” she said, stumbling over her words a bit.  “I was…my comments were really uncalled for, and I shouldn’t have like, you know, accused you of sleeping with William behind your boss’s back.”

Aberdeen nodded her head once, curtly, to make Siena abundantly clear that she hadn’t forgiven her just yet.  Could she forgive her, really, when she was keeping the biggest secret from her?  “Do you want to tell me what the little outburst was really about?” she asked.

Siena pursed her lips and crossed her arms across her chest.  She looked down at the floor.  “It’s nothing.”

“Siena.”

She sighed heavily.  “It’s a guy,” she mumbled out.

“What?”

“A guy,” she said dramatically.

Aberdeen’s jaw dropped.  “A guy?!” she barely had the words.  “What guy?  What…what guy?!”

Siena looked like she was about to throw a mini temper tantrum for having to reveal the information.  “There was this guy, Aaron…he was just in one of my classes, and we had this…this thing going on for the past few months.  Anyways, uh, I found out he was also hooking up with Sylvie the entire time and they’re all Instagram official already.”

“Sylvie?!” Aberdeen deadpanned.  “Like…Gatineau Sylvie?  Blonde Sylvie?  Sylvie who we partied with Sylvie?”

“Yes, that Sylvie,” Siena rolled her eyes.  “Knockout Sylvie.  Drop dead gorgeous Sylvie.  Only in law school so her parents don’t cut her off financially Sylvie.”

Aberdeen furrowed her brows in anger.  Sylvie had been so nice when Aberdeen had come to visit last year, and had bought her drinks at the club…and now to hear she’d done this to Siena?  And had been doing it for months?  Aberdeen was livid.  “Well fuck that bitch,” she barked.  “And fuck Aaron, too.”

“Now I know how you felt when Zane did that to you,” Siena bit her lip.  “But you guys were together for like, a year.  Aaron and I were just hooking up.”

“Still,” Aberdeen was still upset.  “Fuck that guy.  Fuck them both.  Fuck them all.  He doesn’t deserve you if he’s gonna be sneaking around on you, hooking up with Sylvie and whoever else.  You dodged a bullet.  You’re too pretty and too smart to be bogged down by such a fuckboy.”

Siena was quiet.  Aberdeen tried to figure out whether she was going to cry or roll her eyes, but she couldn’t.  With Siena looking at the floor, it was almost impossible.  When she finally looked back up, her expression was much more neutral.  Gentler.  “I wish I had your sense of loyalty, Aberdeen,” Siena said softly.  “Really.  I do.  It’s one of your best qualities.  You…you have my back no matter what.”

“Of course I do,” Aberdeen said.  “You’re my sister.”

Siena nodded her head.  “I know it might not seem like it, especially after the lunch we had, but I always have your back, too,” she said.  “I hope you know that.  I’d do anything for you.”

Aberdeen was silent as she considered her sister’s words.  They fought like any sisters did, but deep know, she knew.  Aberdeen knew her sister would do anything for her, and she would do the same.  “I know.”

“Can you forgive me for lunch?”

Aberdeen nodded reluctantly.  There was nothing to forgive when her sister was right about her assumptions.  “I forgive you,” she said.  She watched as a bunch of fans made their way through the tunnel and into the arena back to their seats.  “Listen, I have to get back.  But I’ll meet you after the game, okay?  Go to those doors over there,” she pointed behind her to the same doors she came through to meet her.

“Okay.  I’ll see you,” Siena nodded, watching as Aberdeen disappeared through the door.

***

William scored in the second period, making Aberdeen convinced he was just trying to show off since he knew Siena was watching.  Hell, he could probably see her from the bench.  With the Leafs winning 4-2, Aberdeen was happy.  But there was barely any time to celebrate.  Everybody had to get ready to leave as soon as possible so they could get on the plane and fly to Buffalo.

It was why Aberdeen was dragging Siena through the back corridors eagerly.  “Where are you bringing me?” Siena asked.

“You need some eye candy to take your mind off Aaron,” Aberdeen said.  

“So you’re bringing me to meet an old man?”

Aberdeen snorted.  Brendan was three years younger than their dad.  “Not quite.”

As they turned a corner, they came head to head with some of the guys, walking in and out of the locker room, their shirts half buttoned, their ties undone, some of them still in their hockey pants, topless.  Siena stopped dead in her tracks.  “Aberdeen—”

“—Feast your eyes—"

“—Aberdeen, I shouldn’t be here.  I shouldn’t…oh…oh my,” Siena gasped like an old Southern woman as her eyes landed on a topless Pierre Engvall across the room.  “Oh my God you could have told me!” she pinched Aberdeen.  “I could have dressed nicer!”

“Hello.”  Siena jumped dramatically, turning around to see William behind her.  She calmed down when she recognized him.  “How are things?” he asked, his voice low so no-one else would hear.  

“Fine, thanks,” Siena’s voice was equally as low.

He stood up straight more and extended his hand.  “I’m William, it’s nice to meet you.  Siena, you said?”

Siena was taken aback for a second before she realized what William was doing.  She wasn’t supposed to know who he was.  She wasn’t supposed to be familiar with him.  “Hi.  Y—Yes,” she stuttered out, shaking his hand.  “I’m Siena, Aberdeen’s older sister.”

“Hey!  Who’s the stranger?” Auston called out from inside the locker room, looking at them standing in the doorway.  

“This is my sister, Matthews,” Aberdeen answered, saying it loud enough so the whole locker room would hear.

Most of the guys approached to shake her hand.  Jason came up first, then Rasmus, then John and Freddie.  Aberdeen didn’t think Siena would get starstruck by hockey players, but she apparently was, stuttering out hellos and pleasant conversations with the men.  Aberdeen couldn’t help but giggle.  “Jesus, Aberdeen,” Siena whispered eventually when nobody approached them and they were alone.  “Are they around like this all the time?”

Aberdeen smiled.  “You don’t know the half of it.”

It was at that point that Auston approached them, giving Siena a quick but flirty up-down that Siena didn’t catch but Aberdeen did.  “This is your sister?” he asked, extending his hand and getting Siena’s attention.  

“Yes, she’s my sister.”

“You guys don’t look like sisters,” he commented.

“I got much more of our dad’s Persian features,” Siena said, shaking his hand.  Aberdeen had rolled her eyes – as if she hadn’t heard that comment before about them not looking like sisters.  “I’m Siena.”

“Siena.  I’m Auston,” he smiled.

Aberdeen rolled her eyes playfully.  “Go flirt with Willy, Auston.  You didn’t get with Kasha and you’re definitely not getting with my sister.”

Auston furrowed his brows at her playfully.  “Get a life, Aberdeen,” he said before sticking his tongue out.  “I hope you liked the game,” he said to Siena before walking away.

Siena was about to whisper something to Aberdeen, but then noticed the man from before making his way towards them.  Her breath hitched in her throat and her entire body seized up.  Aberdeen almost burst out laughing then and there.  “Hello.  I’m Pierre,” Pierre Engvall extended his hand for Siena to shake.  “You’re Aberdeen’s sister?”

Aberdeen had to nudge her sister to get her to respond.  She jerked her hand out to shake Pierre’s.  “Hi!  Yes yes, I’m Aberdeen’s sister, Siena.  It’s nice you meet you Pierre.”

“Did you enjoy the game?” he asked.

“Yes.  Yes.  You guys played so well.  I mean I don’t watch hockey much but—”

“Have you been to a game in Toronto?” he asked.

“No—I mean, not yet.”

“Well you should come.  I’m sure Aberdeen could get you a ticket,” he smiled.

Before the flirt fest could go on any longer, Rasmus screamed something in Swedish at him, and Pierre laughed.  “It was nice to you meet you Siena,” he said before walking away, punching Rasmus on the arm.

Siena looked at Aberdeen.  Her eyes practically rolled to the back of her head.  “Good God almighty, that man just made me sweat like a whore in church.”

Aberdeen snorted.  “Don’t tell that to mom.”

[crazylilad]

Red- Chapter 16

AN: Just an Fyi, this is a TWD fanfiction, meaning there are a lot of TWs, including loads of violence (of all kinds)

No smut!

Please make sure to reblog, like, or whatever you wanna do! That helps me want to continue writing these kinds of stories and to figure out what people want

SUMMARY

I ran through the woods, Matthew right behind me. 

My breaths came in harsh and my legs were screaming in protest. Just a bit farther. I promised myself. 

Matthew stumbled out of the underbrush and doubled over, his cheeks red and mouth open as he huffed for a breath. I moved his arm around my shoulder and kept going. 

I flinched as a bullet ricocheted off a tree to my left. It was too close. They were too close. 

But this was only the start 

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Chapter 16

Daryl

“No one else knows.” Rick said, his voice grim.

I shifted from foot to foot, my eyes watching him and Hershel. Unlike Rick, Hershel didn’t seem okay with this idea. The governor wants Michonne and Rick wants to give her to him. I didn’t like the idea at all. I knew what the Governor did to Maggie and Glenn, how much he had hurt them.

Michonne was someone he was asking for. I felt sick. If it were anyone else we wouldn’t be having this damn conversation. Then again, there were only so many of us left we wouldn’t survive an attack from the Governor. 

 “You gonna tell ‘em?” I asked. 

He shook his head slowly. “Not till’ after. We have to do it today. And it has to be quiet.” 

I nodded, my throat tight. What would Ross think? Hell, what would any of ‘em think? “You got a plan?”

Rick took a step toward me, looking as if he was convincing himself more than me. “We tell her we need to talk. Away from the others.”

Hershel looked down, a conflicting look on his face. I shake my head. “It just ain’t us man.”

“No it’s not.” Hershel said before walking away. 

I watched as the group walked outside. Rossary and Michonne were speaking quietly together. Rossary was smiling- truly smiling- as she showed Michonne her new jacket and her new knife, Michonne said something and Rossary laughed. I clenched my jaw. 

I hadn’t seen Rossary smile like that with anyone else in this group but me and Michonne. They were close. 

As if he saw my indecision, Rick took another step forward. “We do this, We can avoid a fight. No one else dies. Matthew and Beth can survive, Judith…” Rick trailed off. 

This wasn’t us. But it had to be. We weren’t gonna make it if we didn’t make these hard calls. I chanted the sentence over again, hoping to believe it. 

I nod and look at the concrete under me. Shame washed over me as I said the word. “Okay.”  

“We need someone else.”

Rick stared at me, waiting. Realization dawned on me. “I’ll talk to him.”

He paused. “No, I’ll do it.”

My hands clenched my crossbow strap as I neared Rossary.

…

Rossary

When I got off watch, Michonne met me at the gate. She wanted to go out into the field and set up some traps. Now, we had gathered a group and were doing just that. 

I liked her a lot. She was one of the few who understood my dislike of the prison. We had bonded over our love of close combat. I shook my head. 

Now, Daryl and Michonne pulled a spike strip out of the car. I stabbed another walker in the head before it could reach Daryl. He looked up at me, smirking.

Michonne swiped her sword, taking out two walkers. 

“Maybe you could teach me how to use that?” I had debated on whether or not I should ask since I had first seen her. I wiped sweat off my forehead. 

“If you’ll teach me how to fight with knives.” She smiled. “Let’s get through this and then we’ll talk about it.” 

Daryl hit the truck's side. “Come on! Let’s go.” 

I jumped on the tailgate and tucked my knife back into its sheath.

Rick opened the gate for us, staring quizzically as we passed by him. I followed his line of sight and turned back to see Matthew. He was at the catwalk with Maggie and Carl, helping to distract the walkers. He punched Carl on the arm lightly, even from here I could tell he was smiling. 

Carl turned back toward him and tackled him. The two boys had gotten closer while Daryl and I were gone. I snorted when Carl was able to send Matthew to the ground before quickly getting told off by Maggie. Even from here the boys looked guilty.

“They try to drive up to the gate again, maybe some blown tires will stop them.” Glenn said as he walked toward Rick. 

Rick nodded. “That’s a good idea.”

“It was Michonne’s.” Daryl said quickly, his voice tight. I stared at him but he avoided my gaze. 

“We don’t have to win,” Michonne said. “We just have to make their getting at us more trouble than it’s worth.” 

I nodded along. “We spoke about it earlier. If we’re lucky, maybe we could scare off the fighters, make them realize just how dangerous all this really is.” 

A gate opened and Matthew jogged to stand next to me. He bumped my shoulder, the smell of sweat and lingering as everyone gathered together. Matthew looked down at me, the same thought going through his head. 

I shook my head and looked away, following the rest of the group inside.

…

Daryl

I held my crossbow up as I walked through the tombs. “Merle!” I called. “You down here?” I turned a corner, following the voices in the generator room. “Merle!” 

Merle leaned over a counter, looking slightly tense. I dropped my crossbow.  “Hey, little brother.”

 I frowned. “What the hell?” I paced around the room.

“I was just about to holler back at ya.” Merle wiped his mouth, grinning.

I moved to walk past him but he blocked me. I tried again but he didn’t back down. I clenched my jaw. “Whatcha doin’ down here?”

Merle shrugged. “Just looking for a little crystal meth.”

A disappointed sigh escaped me. There was already so much trying to kill us. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Shit will mess my life up when everything is going so sweet.”

I changed the subject. “You talk to Rick yet?” 

“Yeah. Oh yeah, I’m in.” He said, his voice grim. So that was what was going on. “But, he ain’t got the stomach for it. He’s gonna buckle, you know that, right?” 

I shrug, my eyes downcasted. “Yeah, if he does, he does.”

“You want him to?” 

Yes, I did. Fear was making us do stupid decisions. Michonne had saved us many times before. And no matter how hard I tried to tell myself this was what was best, I couldn’t make myself believe it. 

I shook my head. “Whatever he says goes.”

Merle scoffed. “Man. Do you even possess a pair of balls, little brother?” I rolled my eyes. “Are they even attached? I mean, if they are, are they yours?” Merle scowled. “You used to call people like that sheep. What happened to you?”

It seemed he was already high as hell.

I clenched the handle of my crossbow. “What happened… With you and Glenn… and Maggie?”

I knew Glenn was beat, knew that some shit went down but I didn’t think I had the whole story. 

Merle looked down, his eyes filled with shame. “I’ve done worse. You need to grow up. Things are different now.”

Things weren’t all that different. I was still fighting to survive, just in a different way. 

“Your people look at me like I’m the devil…” Merle clenched his jaw. Hatred filled his eyes and rolled off him in large waves, but it wasn’t toward anyone. It was directed to himself. His hand clenched the counter he was leaning on, his knuckles white.

“Grabbing up those lovebirds like that, huh? Now y’all wanna do the same thing I did… snatch someone up and give ‘em to The Governor. Just like me. People do what they gotta do or they die.”

I shook my head. “Can’t do things without people anymore, man.”

Merle scoffed. “Maybe these people need somebody like me around, huh? Do their dirty work. Maybe that’s how it is now. How does that hit ya?” 

I frowned and shook my head. My voice came out strained as I spoke my next words. “I just want my brother back, man.”

…

Rossary

I walked around the cell block, my fingers trailing the wall. Beth was humming a song to Judith as she bounced the baby up and down lightly. I smiled at them. 

The blonde looked up. “You wanna hold her?” 

I shook my head. “Matthew and I are supposed to hang out once he gets off watch.” 

Her brows creased. “Carol is on watch.” 

I bit my lip before I looked out the cell block door. Hershel sat at the table with Carl reading Tom Sawyer. I thanked Beth before walking out the prison. 

Carol stood watch, a gun in her hand. I jogged into the empty field until I was in front of the watchtower. “Hey, have you seen Matthew?” I yelled up at Carol, taking slow deep breaths and relaxed my face. He was fine.

Carol shook her head, frowning. “Have you checked his cell? He was complaining about a headache when I came out here.” 

I bit my lip as I shook my head. I had been in my cell for a while. If he had gone to his cell I would’ve known. I shoved down my worry and thought of anything reasonable that would explain him missing.

“I’ll check again,” I muttered. 

I turned around at the sound of a prison door opening. Daryl waved me over to him but I shook my head, too encompassed in my thoughts to deal with him right now. 

Carol’s face morphed into worry. “Are you okay?” 

I nodded slowly. “Yeah, I’m good.”

I walked back toward the prison. I tried to keep myself composed and neutral, my face a perfect statue of calm. No one else needed to worry. He was fine.

Daryl held his crossbow, his arms tense. I frowned and asked the same question Carol had asked me. 

“You good?” 

He chewed on his cheek before gently taking my arm and pulling me away from view, indecision clear. “How do you know when a choice will eat you up?”

I took a small step back, slightly taken aback. “What do you mean?” 

He let out a rough sigh. “You’ve killed people-” I flinched, my cheeks heating up. Daryl reeled back, his eyes wide. “Nah, that’s not what I- I didn’t…” he sighed, his eyes closed as he absently rubbed circles on my hand. “The Governor wants Michonne and Rick is going to give him to her.”

I stared at him, my eyes wide. I was no longer thinking about Matthew, but about the friend I had just made. “No, he’s-”

“It’s off!” Someone called. I turned to see Rick jogging toward us, his eyes crazed. I clenched my jaw but said nothing. Rick ignored me and faced Daryl. “We’ll take our chances.”

Daryl turned away from me, shame in his eyes. “I’m not saying it was the wrong call-” I scoffed. It was the wrong call. We were no better than the walkers. How far would humanity fall before it reached the bottom? “But this is definitely the right one.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What’s wrong then?”

Rick looked at me then at Daryl, the archer looked away. “I can’t find Merle or Michonne. They’re gone.” 

Daryl nodded before taking off toward the tombs. “Last I saw him he was down here!”

Rick and I followed close behind. I took out my knives, mentally cursing when I realized my gun was in the prison.

“What about Matthew? Did you give him up as well?” I hissed, my thoughts clouded with the worst outcomes.

Rick looked just as worried and confused as I was feeling. “No, just Michonne. Why?”

“Because he’s missing as well.” My stomach turned, hoping I was wrong and that Matthew was just hiding up in a tower.

Daryl led the way, stopping once we hit the generator room. “He was in here.” Daryl said. I looked around. “Said he was lookin’ for drugs… Said a lot of things, actually.” 

I followed Rick to the other side. “Like what?” The Cop asked. 

“That you were gonna change your mind.” I stared at the pillowcase on the ground. Daryl bent down and picked it up. “Here we go… Yeah he took her here.”

Rick cursed, his eyes slightly wide. 

 “What did you do?” I asked, my voice calm even though I could hardly breath. He didn’t even look at me, guilt heavy on his shoulders.

“I’m going after him.” Daryl cut in. “I’ma look for Matthew as well, see if he’s out there too.”

Rick ran for one of the exits. “I’ll go with you.”

“You can’t track for shit.” Daryl retorted. 

I stood and made up my mind that I would stay back in case Matthew showed up. Daryl made eye contact with me. I nodded, letting him know he was on his own.

“Then the both of us.” Rick said. This was his way of making amends. 

“No, just me. I said I’d go and I’ll go.” Daryl glanced at me once I stared moving toward them. “Plus you need to be ready.” Daryl stared at me with such intensity I could hardly keep eye contact. “I’ll find Matthew.” 

I gave him a small worried smile, praying he was right.

…

Daryl

I walked for a while, my eyes on the ground as I followed scuffed footprints. Merle was good at keeping his tracks hidden, but I was better. 

My steps sped up when I saw Michonne. I looked around, not seeing Merle anywhere. She stabbed a walker in the head with her sword. 

“Hey!” I called. Michonne turned toward me, a look of disappointment on her face. “Where’s my brother?” I slowed my pace and dropped my crossbow. “You kill him?” 

Michonne shook her head slowly. “He let me go.”

I nodded, my eyes trailing the road at where the footprints continued. “And Matthew?” I didn’t want to think about what Rossary would do if Michonne was safe but Matthew wasn’t.

“He followed Merle. Merle knocked him out and locked him in a house not too far away.” she explained. “I’m going to get him now.”

I bit my cheek. Now that Matthew was safe, as soon as Rossary found out, I knew she would come to find me. She was no tracker but when she set her mind on something she would do it no matter what. I shook my head and looked at Michonne. “Don’t let anyone come after me.” I said before sprinting toward where Merle was going.

…

Rossary

I gripped my knife tightly, leaving an indent.

Rick stood in front of the group. I tried to understand that he was doing what’s best for the group. That meant making hard choices. But this was a plain out sacrifice, and no matter how hard I tried to think of it differently, Michonne wasn’t a bargaining piece to be thrown around. She was someone who had been part of this group for a while now. She was trusted and liked by just about everyone. Hell, even Carl liked her. 

Rick was the one who made this decision. Who decided her life was worth less than anyone else’s. I couldn’t see that he was trying to do what was best for the group, that he was trying to keep us all alive. Instead, I saw William. How he didn’t care what it took, how many lives were sacrificed. 

“When I met The Governor, he offered me a deal. He said… he said he would leave us alone if I gave him Michonne.” 

I leaned against a cafeteria table, next to Carol. She glanced over at me before looking at my hand. I loosened my grip.

“And I was gonna do that… to keep us safe. I changed my mind. But now Merle took her to fulfill the deal and Daryl went to stop him and I don’t know if it’s too late.” 

Rick continued. “I was wrong, not to tell you.” He looked up at me. “And I’m sorry.”

I looked down. Even when I tried, I couldn’t hate him. He did what he thought was right, and sometimes that wasn’t the best choice. Still, a fear ate at me that we would become what we were fighting against. I had run away so many times, what would it matter if I did it again.

He had Judith and Carl to think of, and Beth and Maggie… a Dark, dark part of me understood why he made the choice he did.

…

I stood in the guard tower Daryl and I usually kept watch in. 

Despite how ugly today was becoming, it was a beautiful day. 

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath in. I didn’t want to live with another group like William. I couldn’t. I had lost so much already, so many humane pieces of myself that I don’t think I would ever get back. 

It didn’t matter if Daryl was with this group, if I had already trusted everyone here. I shook the thought off. I wanted to talk to someone, to be told it would be okay. I wanted a hug.

I couldn’t stop the overwhelming sense of hopelessness that continued to grow in my chest. Tears burned at my eyes.  Matthew wasn’t here. I was alone now. The very thought killed me. I never wanted to be without him.

I didn’t turn around as the door opened. Someone touched my shoulder softly.

Rick came into view, a rifle in hand. I frowned. 

“I-” Rick paused and pulled his rifle up. 

I was running down the stairs befAore he could tell me who he saw.

…

Daryl

I wrinkled my nose at the overbearing smell of death as I shot a walker who was too busy eating to notice me. 

There was a black car abandoned not far from where Rick met with The Governor, walkers surrounding the area around it and the driver side door was open. 

I looked inside. The car was all shot up. 

The sound of growls pulled me further through the area. I followed the sound, keeping my eyes out for anything that would tell me where Merle was. It didn’t matter if I followed tracks all the way back to Woodbury in order to find him. I had lost him once, I wouldn’t do it again.

I turned the corner of the building. In front of me were some scattered walkers. My scowl deepened as I saw one watching one of the Governor’s men. It was just a teenage boy with a bullet hole to his head. 

Then I saw Him. 

My crossbow went limp in my hand. I didn’t believe it.

I blinked, my face hot as my brother looked up. My throat was closing and tears blurred my vision. He growled, ready for a live meal. I watched, frozen, as he stood. Guts fell onto the floor and he tripped over a body. 

I backed away, my vision blurry.

My shoulders caved in and an odd whispering sound left my mouth. I couldn’t control my body or the overwhelming emotions that were taking over. I didn't know what else to do. 

I pushed Merle away but he didn’t stop coming. 

He kept coming and I had no choice. 

I pulled out my hunting knife and stabbed his chest. Before he could recover I pulled my knife out and stabbed his head.

I did it again and again, angry at him for leaving me as a kid, for never protecting me from our father, and for not being here now. I cried out when his face was unrecognizable. 

My brother was dead.

[bbarican]

10:25 am // wednesday; july 28, 2021

good morning, tumblr! first of all, how and why is it still raining? what happened to the one day of sunshine we got and then just disappeared?

work today is kind of slow so i have enough time to just write both on here and on my planner

ive been feeling really nauseous since last night tapos after eating breakfast this morning, i felt like throwing up again; i have no idea why, maybe its a pms thing, but i hate it and nakakawalang gana to do anything cause of it, although eating chocolate helped alot though but its not like i can eat chocolate lang the whole day

i also just wanted to come on here so i can write down what ive been thankful for for the past few days and weeks and so that i can look back to this post when im feeling down so here's the list ive been putting off writing cause ive been so preoccupied:

im very thankful for:

my job and how much im learning every single day; yes its rather challenging but its also so so so fulfilling

my family and my friends for always being there for me through thick and thing and kahit sobrang busy naming lahat, pag nagusap naman kami, its like we were never busy to begin with

realizing that i can be happy on my own; may times na id still look for company but i realized na im so much better off by myself kasi especially right now, i only have and want energy for myself and for the people around me that i genuinely care about

good music, good food, and hella funny tiktok videos

realizing that i lost a little weight; its a hard goal to set especially since i have 0 time to work out, but comparing my older photos to theo nes i have now, i can definitely see and feel a difference so atleast thats a good start

the places ive been to na dati nirereblog ko lang sa other tumblr ko but now i have the same photos i was reblogging! i miss travelling so much it breaks my heart na its so hard to travel na regardless if its local, lalo na if international pa

my brothers and friends having the chance to work hard for their dreams too; thirdy got into benilde and is just waiting for classes to start basically and my brother just needs to book a flight to florida, find a place to live in, and wait for classes to start nalang as well. tapos narealize ko din kahapon na all 6 of us sa barkada namin, kahit hindi na kami close doon sa isang friend namin, are working as designers already; walang halong inggit anymore (especially from me) just pure support for everything we're doing

so yeah, i should probably start working na din after fixing my planner

i hope you guys are doing okay and are safe since maulan parin and everything; please always double mask if you can and drink lots of water!

if youve made it to this part of my post, thank you for reading everything! im excited for august to arrive; tell me what youre excited for! message me and we can be excited together!

[weasleydream]

A story of love, pain and shitty parents - last part

First, I would like to apologize because it’s been so long since the previous part was posted, and even since anything was posted. Hopefully it will get better now, let’s cross our fingers 🤞

I also want to thank every single person who liked, commented and reblogged because you can’t imagine how personal this story is and how I put my soul in it. It became too hard to write honestly, and I hope that the ending is not too bad, because that’s the only way I could imagine it. Anyways, thanks for your support!

As usual, feel free to like, comment, reblog and enjoy!

Masterlist 

The last rays of the late August sun were disappearing behind the hills surrounding the Burrow. Even though the night was beginning to fall, it was still warm enough for me to stay in my now usual spot, squeezed between an old bench and the wall of the broom cupboard. This way, anyone walking outside would miss me, or at least that used to work two weeks ago. Now, everyone knew where I was hiding, but they would usually leave me alone. Most of the Weasley family anyway, because if there one one common point between Fred, George, Molly and Arthur, it was that they had made a point to try everything to make me escape this solid armour I had built around me. 

It was now a habit that I woke up next to Fred when the sun was barely beginning to get up. I would stay silent wrapped in his arms before leaving as soon as he would wake up too. I would help Molly in the kitchen, I would answer every question they wanted to ask me, and I would escape in the garden. 

"Are you hungry?"

"No, don't worry."

I don't want to eat, I'm too afraid I'll throw up.

"Are you tired?" 

"Not that much, don't worry."

I can barely close my eyes without seeing him threatening me. 

"Are you angry?"

"No, I understand why you didn't tell me, Fred."

The only thing I’ve ever believed was true is in fact the biggest lie I’ve ever been told. I feel like nothing has sense anymore. I wish you had never told me.

What was I supposed to do?

_ _ _ 

I heard his voice before I saw him.

“This has to stop.” Fred had muttered through gritted teeth before grabbing my wrist. “Y/N, you’re coming with me.”

I got up and followed him without a word, mentally preparing myself for what I knew would be a heated discussion. Fred led me in the house, crossing the first floor without a glance at anyone, not even George who was looking at his twin with round eyes. I followed him in the stairs, almost painfully aware of his fingers wrapped around my wrist whereas his grip was barely strong enough to even leave marks. I was afraid of what he would say to me, of how I would react and of a thousand more things. Finally, after what had felt like an endless race in the stairs that left me panting, we reached the twins’ room. Fred stopped at the door and I entered, sitting immediately on his bed and curling up against the wall. My eyes were fixed on Fred as he was closing the door, on his tensed posture and his clenched jaw that never failed to show his nervousness. 

“It’s been a month.” he said after a particularly long sigh. “I’ve left you alone because I knew you needed some time but now, I think we should talk.”

I stayed silent, my eyes resolutely fixed on my folded hands that were resting on my knees. I wasn’t ready to try to put words on the mess I was inside, and I was certainly not ready to find out how Fred would react. 

“Bloody hell Y/N, say something! Anything! I want to help you, but how am I supposed to do so when you won’t let me in?”

“Why does it look like you want me to be angry?”

“Because that would mean you feel at least something!”

I flinched and Fred closed his eyes, whispering apologies.

In two steps, he was in front of the bed and he kneeled down. He rested his forearms on the mattress, his hands only a few centimeters away from my legs. With a very slow movement, I grabbed them and his touch felt so warm and so comforting that all I wanted at the moment was to melt into it. 

“Talk to me.” he repeated in a whisper, and when I looked up and caught his eyes, bright and teary like I wish I had never seen them, something tingled inside of me. 

For a month I had felt terribly bad for putting Fred through such difficulties. I knew he was worried sick for pretty much everyone around him and making him double worry about me was a selfish thing to do, but I just couldn’t help it. At every hour of the day, there was only one thought that occupied my mind. 

It could be now.

My father wanted me to be terrified, he wanted me to think only about him and when he would come for me, and he had what he wanted. I couldn’t think about anything else, I had become an empty shell ready to be finished whenever he would decide he wanted to kill me. And there was my mother, who I had always thought was his victim, who was dead because of him, who was the heroine of my childhood stories and the one who I wanted to be watching over me, my mother who happened to have been a Death Eater too. And Mary, who was the first one to love me like a daughter, who had done everything in her power for me to have a not too sad childhood, who was dead by the hand of my father after maybe having killed my mother. 

“I’m broken Fred, and I don’t think I can ever be fixed.” 

It came as a low and strangled whisper, and as soon as it died in the silence of the room, Fred got on the bed and hugged me as tightly as he could. 

“I’ll fix you. I swear I’ll fix you, you’ll be okay Y/N. I’ll make sure of it.”

“You don’t understand- I’m terrified, Fred.”

“You don’t have to be Y/N. I promise you I’ll protect you. If I have to kill him with my bare hands, I’ll do it but I swear he won’t ever touch you again. Okay?”

He delicately lifted my chin and slowly leaned in. His lips collided with mine, and even the salty taste of our kiss couldn’t have prevented my heart from swelling with hope. If Fred was with me, I knew nothing could happen to me. He had always protected me, always done everything in his power to make sure I would be okay, and I knew he would never give up on me. Not him, not George or their parents. I had the family I had always wanted and they would do anything for me and I would do anything for them. 

“It will be okay.”

_ _ _ 

I knew Fred would have never left me if Molly hadn’t threatened to make him look uglier than the ghoul of the house with a theatricality which only goal was, I knew it, to lighten the mood. Fred wasn't an idiot, the barely hidden threat from his mother was in fact a request, and he obliged, not without brushing my fingers with his one last time. 

Only when the door silently closed behind Fred’s back did I notice that Molly was holding something against her chest. I couldn’t see it, but what immediately concerned me was her attitude. She seemed fearful, which was a word I would never have used to describe Molly Weasley, and she was holding that something with such strength that her arms were almost trembling. Without letting go of whatever she had brought, she sat next to me and I discerned something like black weather. 

“How are you feeling, dear?”

Her voice was perfectly controlled, and just by listening to her I would never have known she was really worried at the moment. 

“Fine, I guess.”

A familiar glimpse of compassion crossed her eyes, that very same glimpse that sometimes got me mad and other times was like a balm. As if it necessitated a particularly strong will, she slowly put what she was holding on my knees. My brain could have been completely clouded that it would have been the very same result: I refused to process that my mother’s diary was so close to me. Without giving me time to think, my body reacted on its own and I sent it flying. 

“Listen Y/N, I think you should read it. Trust me, you need to know what’s written in this.”

I stayed silent, my eyes still fixed on the little notebook as if it could attack me within the second. I was so focused on it that the touch of Molly’s hand on my shoulder made me jump. 

“Can you promise me you’ll take a look?”

I didn’t know why, but I nodded. 

Probably relieved, Molly left the room without another word. I thought Fred would immediately come back, but the door stayed desperately closed and I suspected Molly to have told him to leave me alone. 

I sighed quite loudly and got up to grab the diary before snuggling again in Fred’s bed. 

“Here we come.” I mumbled. 

My hands were shaking. I opened it. 

_ _ _

I had been so terrified, so obsessed by my father that I had forgotten the biggest threat. The war, He-who-must-not-be-named, all heavy black clouds that the jail formed by my father had prevented me from fearing like I should. As the months passed, I had realized my family had done the impossible to keep my mind too busy to think about it. Molly had decided I would help her to empty the attic, Arthur had told me so much about his muggle collection that I had found a new passion, and I had spent my days helping in the twins’ shop until it closed. After that, I had taken upon me to write the addresses on the envelopes for the orders by mail. It had worked; my brain was always so busy that time seemed to fly. 

That was until Fred had announced he would join Lee for a few days, of course. 

“Great, when do we leave?”

Fred had shifted uncomfortably, rubbed his face and sighed. 

“You don’t understand, love. I want you to stay here, it’s too dangerous.”

A glance at George had informed me that he had heard the same excuse, and two days later, we were both cursing Fred in the twins’ room. 

“Too dangerous my ass…” mumbled George for the hundredth time. “Pranking McGonagall is dangerous. Standing up against Mum is dangerous. But not spending some time with Lee!”

I let out a laugh that sounded a bit bored and sighed. George stopped his complaints and I felt his gaze on me.

“How you holding up?”

I stayed silent for the very good reason that I didn’t know the answer myself. How was I holding up? Was keeping myself busy really suffisant? Was I really holding up? Every time my parents or the ongoing war crossed my mind, my heart stopped beating for seconds that felt longer and longer. 

My silence seemed to be an answer ten times more meaningful than any word I could have said. George’s arm wrapped gently around my shoulders, but a glance confirmed he wasn’t looking at me. His eyes were fixed on a burnt at the bottom of the door. 

“You scared us, you know.” he stated, as simply as if he had announced he was raining outside. “To be fair, you still scare us half of the time.”

“Why? I’m fine now.” I said.

“Come on Y/N, I know you too well. You know you can’t lie to me, nor can you lie to Fred. You barely make it with Mum. I won’t talk for them, it’s something we’re too scared to talk about I guess, but every time you get lost in your thoughts, or every time I hear noises in the room at night, I can tell you I’m terrified. I don’t want you to cry or to be so apathetic. I love you too much for that.”

Now, I felt his eyes almost burning holes in my temples, but I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t promise him it would never happen again, because even if I didn’t always realize it, I knew I was constantly fighting against this terror held in the depths of my mind. But I didn’t want him to worry for me either; he had so much more important to do, they all had so much more important to do. 

“I’m strong enough.” I whispered. 

It wasn’t a promise or a question, only an affirmation which I hoped would reassure George. 

“I know you’re strong enough, Y/N. But even the strongest persons have their struggles, and you’ve had your fair share.You know we won’t give up on you, right? Obviously, Fred better keep his ass next to yours but I’ll always be there too.”

“I know Georgie.” I breathed, the end of his name on hold as if I was going to say something else. 

“What’s on your mind?”

“It’s unfair.” George was about to say something, I saw it as his mouth opened and he took a deep breath. “Not for me,” I added quickly, “but for you, for Fred, for pretty much everyone around me.”

George frowned, but the door suddenly opened and Fred made his entrance, jumping on the bed next to me and engulfing me in his arms. I never knew what George wanted to tell me this day. 

I avoided the discussion, and then the war struck.

_ _ _ 

I only processed a few of the things that led me back at Hogwarts a few weeks later. Things seemed to be the same as usual, apparently desperate but strangely far from Muriel’s house where we were hiding, when the world seemed to crash around us. A sentence, a cold sweat, a travel I realized I was making only when the silhouette of Hogsmeade appeared in front of me, and Ginny, Lee, Fred, George and I were in the Room of Requirements. This place had held so many of our adventures, it only felt right that the most dangerous thing we would ever do began here, right?

I didn’t know what would come, but I certainly didn’t imagine that. Lifeless bodies, the smell of the fire consuming the castle, the smoke that blinded us, the screams. For the first time, even Fred’s constant presence next to me couldn’t dissipate the veil of terror that tightened inexorably around me. And this feeling of security I craved disappeared when he died.

It was blurred. Percy, Fred, the Death Eaters, all of these images were in my head yet I couldn’t find a sense to what I thought I remembered. A sea urchin, then a bright light followed by a deep dark, a bubble of joy burst and the pain and then the explosion. Or maybe was it the explosion that caused the pain? 

It could have been a dream. Everything was so clouded, so strange, that it could have been a dream. But it wasn’t, and George’s tears were the most painful proof. We didn’t share a word, neither when I woke up nor when we were holding on each other next to Fred’s body. Only sobs, all more cruelly strong than the previous one, all making it sink a bit more that Fred was dead, he had left us, he was dead and would never come back. 

We cursed the world, because it seemed so much easier to think about who was responsible than to think about the after. After the war, when we would have to keep living without Fred. We would get older, we would build our lives and Fred wouldn’t be in it, he would stay forever the young man lying on the floor, a smile on his lips even in the gravest times, his skin pale and cold, his eyes closed. 

Only one thing could have gotten me to move from my spot next to the boy I would love forever. It was revenge, and it eventually came to me. I barely heard it, my heart was beating so loudly in my ears, but I heard someone claiming “He was laughing! Laughing!”

George didn’t realize I was gone. And I only realized it myself when the Great Hall had gotten too far behind for me to see the door. I was fighting against the crowd of wizards trying to rush to the center of the castle, where they would probably have the chance to find their friends and family alive, or maybe they would curl up in a corner and mourn their loved ones. The image of a sea of red headed wounded souls crossed my minds, and it took all my will to erase it from behind my eyelids. Erasing the ache in my heart would never be that easy.

I was walking around the now empty corridors, my fingers tightening as much as they could my wand. It was surreal, thinking that wooden sticks could cause such damage. The walls of the school had hosted so many great wizards and witches, so many centuries of History, and those who had built it had just destroyed it. In the middle of the debris, blinded by smoke and every single muscle sore, I had the strong impression that Hogwarts history was over. 

And I also knew that a page of my own history was ready to be turned. 

It’s most terrible chapter will end in a way or another, I swore to myself. And it will be today. 

“I’m surprised I only see you now.”

I didn’t flinch, I didn’t even look away from the black holes my father’s eyes were forming. The grip of my hand on my wand tightened though, and as small as the movement was, it caught his attention. 

“Is this the moment I was waiting for?” he asked with a low voice, as if it was a solemn moment. 

“Seems like we’ve both been waiting for it, then.”

He looked surprised, but not angry. A little voice in my head whispered it was the first time I spoke to him without an ounce of fear in my words, and the familiar tone almost brought tears to my eyes, but they didn’t roll on my cheeks because I knew he wanted me to be strong, he wanted me to fight and to be the winner. 

“So,” my father began again, as if he was talking about the weather with the neighbour. “How is your little boyfriend? I wanted to ask him myself, but-”

The green light that flew above his head stopped him. My wand was trembling, his tip pointed on a spot right between his eyes. The only regret I had was that he wasn’t dead yet. 

“An unforgivable curse? This isn’t how I raised you.”

“You didn’t raise me at all, you fucking-”

It was my time to stop and to throw myself on the floor. The moment I stood again, the back straight as if nothing had ever terrified me in my life, was the signal. The fight began. 

It felt like it lasted only a split second. The curses were all around us. The corridor was empty, it was just my oldest enemy and me, our version of a terrible prophecy. I refused to live in a world where he was, and his goal was to get rid of me. There was only one way all of this could end… Death. 

I had never been that angry. Never. But after all he had done to me, after what he had done to Fred and to George, after having suffered all my life, I couldn’t control myself. Not when I had just lost the man I loved, not when I had finally learned the truth about my late family, not when the responsible was a few steps away from me. My blood was like magma, burning and destructing, always pushing me a bit more in the fury I was losing myself in.

One second, time was flying. My brain had stopped working for a long time and  it was the most basic instinct that was guiding me. The second after, it seemed to stop. I noticed everything, from my father’s wide eyes and his smirk slowly fading to the two powerful flashes flying in the air between us. In a glance, I realized it would be over really soon. One of the flashes was heading straight to my heart, the other was about to hit my father’s head. 

I wasn’t afraid. Something was soothing me, something that felt like a mix of what I loved the most. A voice I had never heard and that held both strength and softness, the delicate touch of a necklace, an arm loosely wrapped around my shoulder, soft lips against mine. 

The warmth was comforting, and so was the voice that murmured in my ear. 

The release only came when I closed my eyes. 

It had all started during an especially painful night at the beginning of the fifth month of 1978, and it had all ended twenty years later, during an especially painful night at the beginning of the fifth month of 1998.

My daughter, my Y/N, 

_ _ _

April 25, 1978

I wish I could have brought you into a better world, I wish I could have protected you the way I wanted to… but I can’t. Not when I’ve been compelled to follow the man you’ll have to call your father. I wish one day you’ll understand. I wish you’ll know how much I love you. 

I can’t wait to meet you, even though I’m afraid it won’t be for long. 

I love you, my baby. 

Tags: @pregnant-piggy​ (thank you for everything, love 💜) @la3divine

Mum

[misterewrites]

Intro to Caitlyn 102 (Mirror’s Edge)

Hey everyone! E here with another chapter. been a busy week so this is a little late but with any luck I'll have the next underground chapter out this week or maybe another chapter for this story. dunno I'm just having fun in general. I hope you are all staying safe, wash your hands, wear your mask, get the vaccine if you can, keep each other safe! Feel free to tell your friends about this, reblog it or leave comments I'd greatly appreciate it. Trying promote myself is weird haha Stay safe and have a great week!

If you’d like an easier place to read the story, feel free to follow the link below

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/76796408

Summary: Caitlyn has her target thanks to one Finnrick Drift and now it's time to break in. After she takes care a few things at home.

-----

Caitlyn sighed as she was unable to keep her eyes off the slivered hue butterfly hair ornament in her palm, the multi-colored glass shards wings stretched wide like it was ready to take flight.

It was beautiful, it was the perfect and it was expensive.

The sliver was real, none of that cheap painted copper or tin or whatever hairclips were normally made of. The different shards of glass had been painstakingly put into place, each fitting together perfectly like a completed puzzle which must’ve taken months to do by hand. And true to his word, she could feel the energy of this item, the magical thrum of its power. It no longer felt cold and distant but warm, light and carried a familiarity with it. It was strange to say but it was almost like the ornament was breathing in time with her. Like it was a part of her.

Of course it was, it’s freaking magic! Frankly magic could do whatever the hell it wanted apparently. The real question was what hidden power laid within.

Somehow in the back of her mind she knew how this thing was supposed to work: it granted her some kind of temporary movement. What that meant she hadn’t the slightest clue. She also knew it would only last an hour and would ‘refresh’ at every dawn. Because that’s a thing. And she knew the spoken word needed to activate it. Which of course meant the word was angel.

Caitlyn frowned, unsure what kind of joke this was. Finnrick had specifically called her angel twice: once when they first met and when asked what exactly the hairclip did. Clearly it was some inside joke he was in on. She just wished she was too.

“Hey Cat, you okay? You keep looking at the wall.”

Caitlyn shook herself out of her stupor and found herself staring at wide brown curious eyes that belonged her baby brother Lou.

Louis or Lou as he preferred to be called, was 7 years old (soon to be 8 next month). He had messy black hair with a cute button nose. He wore clothing typical of a child his age: A red shirt with a hero splashed across its front and baggy shorts. His sneakers were worn and frayed which reminded Caitlyn she really needed to get him a new pair. Between his chubby cheeks and the gap in his smile he was the cutest kid in the world. True he was a bit pudgy due to his lack of height though if he was anything like their father, he would grow to tower over her.

Caitlyn sighed sadly: two years and still no word of her parents. One day they just up and vanished. She used to think they had died through some cruel act of fate or misfortune. In her weaker moments, she briefly wondered if they just left Lou and her behind to start a new life.

But now, with the realization there was a whole magical world on top of her own, she couldn’t fathom what could’ve happened to them. Her thoughts were endlessly filled with possibility and none of them good. None of them made the pain hurt less.

She pinched herself as hard as she could. The sharp pain cut through her wandering mind and focused her back on the task at hand.

“I’m fine” She gave a sly smile “But have you finished your sandwich? A nice man bought it for you and I don’t want it to go to waste.”

Lou bounced up and down excitedly, pudgy hands tucked into a fist “Yes, yes I did! It was yummy!”

“Awesome!”

“Who was the nice man?” Lou asked quizzically, tilting his head to one side.

“Umm….” Caitlyn was torn: One hand she wasn’t quite sure where her and Finnrick landed on the whole trustworthy scale. On the other hand she couldn’t just say a random name. Lou had an uncanny ability to know when she was lying. Bordering on supernatural sometimes.

She glanced carefully towards her baby brother, searching for any sign of magic or mysticism in his chubby cheeks.

He scrunched his eyes wide and inched closer to her. She blinked, stumbling backwards at his sudden movement.

“I win!” He cheered with a bright smile “You blinked first!”

It took a moment for Caitlyn to process what was going on.

She laughed softly “Yeah kiddo. You win.”

“So what’s the nice man’s name? It’s not Jonas, is it? He was a creep.”

“Yeah he was.” Caitlyn awkwardly agreed. Her stomach churned unhappily at the thought of her ex. “No, his name is Finn.”

“Finn” Lou paused thoughtfully, eyes narrowed in concentration “Fiiiiinn. Finn! I like it! Fiiiiiiiinn. Can you thank him for me next time you two go out?”

Caitlyn rose a hand up no protest “Whoa, whoa, whoa slow down kiddo. We’re not dating.”

“But why not? You said he was nice.”

“I…” she glanced about the apartment wearily: Peeling paint, barely held together furniture and rent past due. So much work and effort for this ramshackle home.

“I don’t have time kiddo. I got to keep working if we wanna keep this place.”

Lou frowned, his face confused as if he couldn’t understand the word work “But you’re always working Cat. When are you supposed to have fun?”

Caitlyn ruffled his already messy hair lovingly “I’ll worry about that and you worry about having fun...and keeping up your grades.”

Lou’s ears perked up “What? Sorry, I think I hear Hedge calling me.” and without further warning, he bolted into his room, picking up his beloved turtle plush Hedge and dove under the covers.

Caitlyn couldn’t help but grin at his brother’s antics.

Then reality set in again.

She rather not deal with this newly found, barely understood magical world but regular folks weren’t paying the bills like they used to. Her fence was giving her less and charging more. Some bulltshit about paying off crooked cops or whatever. Sounded like a half ass excuse to her but they both knew she didn’t have much options.

Real gold. Any loose change from magical folks could easily lighten her burden and the promise of more sat in some entitled prick’s safe.

She couldn’t resist even if she had tried and she hadn’t tried to stop herself in years.

-----

Caitlyn waited till midnight to make her move. It was easier to blend in with darker shades and regardless of who she was robbing, she wasn’t in the business to make enemies. Especially enemies with unknown powers.

Lou was tucked into bed, nice and cozy with Hedge locked in his arms. Mrs. Palmer, a kindly older woman next door, agreed to watch him. They shared a silent knowing look with one another.

Her apartment was on the less than well kept side of town and everyone had their hands in some sort of shady business here. They tried their best to keep their noses clean but sometimes there were dips into less savory methods of getting cash.

Caitlyn was prepped for the mission ahead: A black blouse with black leggings. Thick black hiking boots for gripping walls and a leather black jacket to keep the cold and sharp pointy objects away from her skin.

She took a sad glance at the jacket, remembering all the times her father joked about handing it down to her when she beat him at arm wrestling. She could still hear dad’s hearty laughter echoing down the hall.

Caitlyn’s eyes hardened as she forced herself to look away “They left. No point in letting good gear go to waste.”

She took a deep calming breath as she ripped the tape off the butterfly knife she hid underneath her bed. She hated unnecessary violence but sometimes it took more than a good right hook to get someone off your ass. Better to have it and not need it than wind up with a bruise of regret.

She slipped the knife into her jacket pocket, slung her bag over her shoulder, nodded thankfully towards Mrs. Palmer and made her way out the door.

------

Caitlyn decided to take the long way: True it was halfway across town and took an hour of traveling but she always enjoyed the quiet that came with waiting. It calmed her, allowed her time to double and triple check her plans with the added benefit of shaking out any loose thoughts rattling in her head with each bump of the bus.

She stared at the beautiful ornate butterfly clip currently holding her ponytail up in the window. Caitlyn wasn’t sure what exactly Finnrick had given her but she didn’t want to use it at the apartment in case it didn’t do what it was supposed to. After all, suddenly having the knowledge in her head on how to work the hairclip was a bit unsettling. Okay really unsettling. Better to use it far away from Lou in case it exploded or something else nasty.

She got off the bus at last and hurried her way over to Andor’s, careful to cover her face whenever she spotted the odd store or traffic camera. She didn’t know who actually controlled them and she didn’t want to find out the hard way.

Andor’s Antique Shoppe (really cute elf boy) was the tallest building on the street: three floors that towered over the single story shops nearby. The street itself was nearly pitch black with a street lamp on either end of the block being the only source of light. Not a soul in sight.

Now was a good time as any to try out the hairclip. Caitlyn closed her eyes, exhaling slowly as she focused on the magical item. Goosebumps ran down her spine while the quiet, powerful thrum hummed softly in her ears. The word escaped her lips like it was second nature.

“Angel”

She nearly stumbled as a warm sensation filled her entire being. It covered her like a second skin and suddenly she was aware of the hairclip intimately: It’s weight, where it sat upon her head. She could feel the wings of the butterfly unfold, outstretched and ready to take flight. She heard the shimmering of magic forming into existence and she let out a surprised gasp when her feet lifted off the ground.

Caitlyn glanced in the nearby shop window, tears welling in her eyes:Beautiful translucent butterfly wings extended out from behind her. The outline of the wings were a deep rich purple with the multicolored glass stained shards gorgeously laid across its surface, each as elegant and refined as any art piece she’d ever seen. Each flutter and beat held her aloft, defying gravity’s hold on her. In the shadows of the night, the soft glow of the wings made her look like...

“An angel.” she whispered gently “I look like an angel.”

Caitlyn wiped the tears away. Technically she was a butterfly but this wasn’t the time for sentiment. She had a job to do and the longer she floated out here the more likely she’d get caught.

“Up” she murmured and the wings obliged: she rose silently skyward, each beating of the wings taking her higher and higher. The chill of the wind felt nice across her cheeks and she couldn’t help but relax in its presence.

Her original plan was to simply scale the side of the building and pick the window to gain entry but with her new found vertical movement, it was easier to just go up and over. She made sure she ascended from the end of the street and flew over to the third floor.

Caitlyn tilted her head quizzically as she found herself staring at a haphazardly open window.

“It can’t be this simple.” she narrowed her eyes suspiciously “It has to be a trap.”

-----

Caitlyn stood dumbfounded in the unguarded office of Andor.

She looked to her left then to her right, waiting for some sort of ambush to be sprung.

None came.

“Okay it is this simple.” Caitlyn whispered to herself, opting to just take this stroke of good fortune and run with it. She quietly willed the wings away and with a glitter of magic they vanished into thin air.

She crept over to the black safe tucked lazily in the corner, a stack of important looking documents just thrown on top without a care in the world. She quickly pocketed them and turned her attention to the roadblock in her way. True to Finnrick’s information, the safe itself was fairly simple and wouldn’t take much to break into. Either Andor was extremely confident in his security or really didn’t take being a crook seriously.

Not that it mattered to Caitlyn. It wasn’t her fault Andor hadn’t invested in a good safe.

She pressed her ear against the cool surface of the metal, trying to ignore the icy chill on her cheek as she strained to listen for the nearly inaudible click of the tumblers falling into place. It had taken two tries too many but she allowed herself a smug grin as the safe’s door swung open with a creak.

Caitlyn’s eyes narrowed at the sight of a funny symbol painted onto the back of the door. It gleamed with a strange unnatural light before disappearing all together. Before she could began to guess what bad news that meant, the shouts and thundering footsteps echoed from below answered her question.

“Shit.” She whispered as she began frantically grabbing everything she could: Folders, stacks of papers and clanging metal in heavy pouches. It all went into her bag with as much speed as she could muster.

The footsteps grew louder with a frantic pace. They were already on the second floor if she hazard a guess. Caitlyn made for the window and without a second thought, flung herself outside with all her might.

“Angel!” She hurried muttered but the wings were forming too slowly. She already crossed past the next floor down when they barely began to outstretch from her back. Caitlyn was no physics major but even she knew there was no way she’d be able to slow down in time to avoid breaking her neck. She shielded her face with her arms and tried not to flinch as she waited for the pain to set in.

It didn’t come.

Instead she felt herself slow to a stop midair and just stayed here. Caitlyn opened her eyes to find herself bobbing up and down inches away from the pavement. There were a pair of legs as well: Black slacks and well polished loafers with the bottom half of a black tattered trench coat.

“Falling for me angel? I didn’t expect it to be literal.”

She glanced up to found herself staring at the one and only Finnrick Drift before her, a cheeky smile on his lips and his hand held out.

Finnrick waved his fingers over her and she landed onto the sidewalk with a soft thud.

He offered her his hand but she preferred to scamper to her feet in the most ungraceful way possible. Her cheeks burned with a pinkish hue at the sight of the P.I.

“Thanks.” She couldn’t keep the embarrassment out of her voice “I….thanks.”

Finnrick nodded “Anytime.”

“WHY IS THE DOOR LOCKED?!” A voice roared from overhead.

“CUZ IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE YOU IDIOT!”

Realization knocked Caitlyn out of whatever was going on here but as she turned to make a break for it, Finnrick rose his hand to stop her.

She glanced at him, lost and confused.

“The favor. I’m calling it in.”

“What?! Here?! NOW!? You got to be kidding!”

“I kid about a lot of things.” Finnrick admitted “but not this.”

“We’re standing outside the place I just robbed! This isn’t the time!”

“Yes it is.”

Caitlyn took a step back and cast a suspicious look at the private investigator “You were using me, weren’t you? You didn’t want to get your hands dirty so you let me borrow the wings so I can steal the thing for you!”

Finnrick shook his head.

“Don’t turn this around on me!” Caitlyn snarled

Finnrick answered simply “You were clearly better at locks and sneaking around than I am. I was actually having trouble figuring how to pull this off. Every option ended with a fight with Andor. That’s why I’m out here. Why I busted every cameras on the street and managed to keep the window open. To make sure you were okay.”

“Where even were you?!” Caitlyn tried in vain to recall seeing Finnrick on the street “it doesn’t matter! You want me to trust you?! Just like that?”

Finnrick sighed tiredly “Please angel I trust you.”

Caitlyn’s eyes went cold “That is your mistake, not mine.”

Finnrick stared back at her, his dark brown eyes warm and gentle “Trusting you is my choice. Breaking it lays entirely with you.”

Caitlyn felt the rage and distrust drain out of her and replaced with a tense exhaustion.

Angel. He had let her borrow the wings and while there was no way he’d let her keep them he did give it to her for a favor. A simple favor he promised.

She sighed in defeat “What’s the favor?”

“I need a paper from the stack.”

“And if I give it to you, will you let me go?” She asked, hating how weak and vulnerable she sounded.

“No” Finnrick spoke without hesitation.

Caitlyn's shoulders sagged with disappointment.

“I will protect you.”

Caitlyn couldn’t help but stare at Finnrick: His face was scrunched up in a rather cute sense of determination and his body was relaxed. It was clear he was trying to be as nonthreatening as possible and despite her recent outburst, he seemed more concern with her than himself.

When was the last time someone offered to protect her? Granted she didn’t need any but even Caitlyn had to admit it was nice to hear.

They stood there for a moment, the angry shouts and cursing of Andor and his thugs breaking the silence of the night.

“Which paper is it?”

“It’ll be a single sheet with some fancy silvery writing on it.”

It took her no time to find it: It was thicker than all the others, written on some ancient paper that was aged yellow with time but was otherwise intact. The shining silvery writing was indeed fancy but nearly impossible to make out. She could actually feel her eyes water just looking at it and she wasted no time shoving it into Finn’s hand.

“There!” Caitlyn cast a nervous glance towards the third floor window “I kept my end. Now keep yours. Please.”

Finnrick said nothing. He instead tucked the loose paper inside his coat and offered a hand to her.

Confused but running out of options, she gingerly took his hand in hers. She flushed at how warm he was. Caitlyn let out a yelp as Finnrick pulled her in. She tried to keep her cheeks from turning a lovely shade of red when Finnrick held her close.

Finnrick began chanting, his hands drawing unseen symbols in the air. Caitlyn could feel the same warm sensation from earlier wash over her as Finnrick’s spell took effect.

-----

“FIND MY STUFF NOW!” Andor screamed with bloody rage. He was typical of an elf: Impossible well kept blonde hair that flowed to his back, piercing forest green eyes. He was tall and lean with the tackiest suit anyone had seen. Reds and pinks in some sort plaid pattern. He called it looking good. His goons called it a headache. His pointed ears twitch unhappily as he struggled to listen for any sort of sound nearby but found nothing beyond the usual quiet hum of the city.

Andor groaned unhappily as he made his way to the window. His eyes scanned the street with a clarity not even the most technologically advance camera could match. His elf eyes took in every detail through the shadows: every imperfect scratch on the brick buildings, the asphalt embedded with the grooves of tires, cracked sidewalks that spread out like bolts of lightning.

Nothing. Not a single soul was in sight. The silhouetted street was bare and empty.

“FUCK!” Andor screamed into the silence “FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT! FIND THEM NOW! CHECK THE FRONT DOOR CAMERA!”

“We can’t boss, it was fried yesterday, remember?”

Andor shut the window with a violent thud.

-----

Caitlyn let out the tense sigh she hadn’t realized she had been holding in.

She instinctively looked towards Finnrick only to find empty air.

“We’ll have to be invisible a little longer. They’ll be searching the shop before they think to start fanning outside. Andor will be making the process longer. Let’s get to the end of the street and I’ll drop it then.”

Caitlyn nodded for a moment before realizing he couldn’t see her

He guided her arm into his and the pair briskly walked down the street. It felt weird to walk invisible, arm in arm, while a childish elf baby raged behind them.

When they reached the end of the street, Finnrick dropped the spell. The two reappeared as quickly as they’d vanished. Caitlyn pulled away from the detective, her body shivering from the sudden lack of warmth.

“Thank you.” Caitlyn murmured softly.

Finnrick tipped his fedora “Any time sweetie.”

“What now?”

Finnrick scratched his chin thoughtfully “It is late and staying here would be a terrible idea. I suspect we both have places to be.”

Finnrick reached into his pocket and held out a piece of paper for Caitlyn to take. She stared at it, unsure what he was offering.

“It’s my fence.” He clarified with a smile “I take it you don’t know a magical one. He’s very trustworthy and he’ll give you a fair price.”

“Thanks” she took the slip of paper “I….thank you.”

“Any time. Good night angel.”

“Wait!” She reached for him but drew back when he turned to face her “Your hairclip? The one you let me borrow?”

Finnrick’s eyes twinkled with amusement “You didn’t hear me, did you? I told you that’s yours.”

Caitlyn could hear her heart thundering in her ears, cheeks ablaze “You sure? It seems like it costed a pretty penny.”

“Pretty amount of gold.” Finnrick corrected with a wink “And I’m pretty sure. I made it for you.”

“Why?” The question slipped out of her mouth “Why me? You barely know me.”

“Not true.” Finnrick nervously bit his lip “You barely know me. I’ve been waiting for you forever now. About five yearsin fact.”

“Me?” Her blush worsened “I don’t understand.”

“You will.”

Finnrick took her hand in his once more and softly kissed it. Caitlyn could feel a flutter of butterflies fill her stomach.

He hesitated to break his hold on her but he did so respectfully. Caitlyn could see his cheeks tinged with a pinkish hue as he began walking away.

Caitlyn stood there and watched the detective vanish into the night.

-----

Okay, so she didn’t just stand there dumbfounded as Finnrick walked away. It was probably a terrible idea and definitely not normal Caitlyn behavior but she followed him.

It wasn’t too hard given her newfound verticality. She just waited a few minutes, noted the direction he was heading and flew over the rooftops. Finnrick didn’t seem to be aware he was being followed. He walked the darken streets of Newton Haven, gesturing to the odd person or mythical being cloak in the darkness. His pace was casual and unsuspecting.

Her concerns about running out of time were unfounded as about 30 minutes later, Finnrick ducked into a fairly decent apartment complex. It was better kept than hers but only by a fraction.

A dark apartment on the third floor was suddenly flooded with light as Finnrick Drift made his way inside. He hung his coat and fedora at a coat rack that stood by the door. The apartment was itself humble: he had a battered desk placed by the window, his tiny kitchen was on one side and the door to his bedroom on the other. There was a large file cabinet next to a battered, ancient fridge. Not the place of a well paid private investigator.

Finnrick sighed tiredly as he rolled up his sleeves. The way his body hunched over with the slow debilitate movements he made, it was obvious he must’ve been exhausted. But whatever he was up to must’ve been important because he began drawing on his lovely wooden floor.

Caitlyn couldn’t really guess what the detective was doing beyond the shape he was making: There was a large outer circle and a much smaller one within. An array of symbols were drawn between the two circles such as stars, a crescent moon, squiggles shaped like trees with a language she didn’t understand.

It didn’t take Finnrick long to finish. He stood at full height, wiping the sweat from his brow as he reached into his pocket and pulled a baggie. Carefully, he opened the bag and pulled out a sliver thread that seemed to shine even at this distance. He placed it within the smaller circle and outstretched a hand like he was grasping at something. His eyes, normally a warm dark brown, glowed with blue arcane power. Magical symbols formed before him and the building groaned and creaked like the mere presence of magic commanded it to speak. He lit a match, his lips moving more and more wildly yet no sound could be heard from within. Finnrick closed his hand into a fist and the symbols sunk into the circle. He flung the match onto the sliver thread and the entire glyph blazed with fire for moment. There was a flash of a brilliant light and the circle had vanished only to be replaced by some strange figure.

She was much taller than Finn, so tall in fact the top of her head nearly scraped the bottom of the next floor up. Her hair was wispy, thin threads of sliver that reached to the bottom of her feet. Her skin was pale like moonlight and two dark sunken pits formed her eyes. Her frame was lanky and unnatural like someone had pulled and stretch her into her current form. Her clothes were torn and ragged.

The figure tiled her head curiously at Finnrick who dug into his pocket and pulled out the yellowed paper Caitlyn had given him. The figure was dumbstruck as Finnrick handed it to her with a warm smile. He offered a match to the creature but she shook her head. She gingerly held the paper in her hand, staring at it like was about to vanish into thin air.

Then she ripped it. She tore at it with a fierce, terrifying frenzy. She ripped and ripped and ripped until impossibly small bits of paper rained across the apartment. Caitlyn leaned closer as previously unseen shackles formed upon the figure’s wrist and cracked wide open. They slipped off and vanished into the air.

The figure let out a manic laugh as she shrunk, her limbs realigning themselves until she looked like a proper human sized person only a head taller than Finnrick. Her thin wispy hair fattened to thick, full braids of metallic silver. Her skin remained pale but her dark sunken eyes turned a coal black, full of life and joy. Even her clothes had transformed into a splendid elegant dress that sparkled like stars.

She cried, clear streams of water running down her face as she held Finnrick’s hands tightly. She wailed and shook, unable to keep her emotions in any longer. Finnrick let her, giving only a satisfied grin in response. She handed him a handful of gold, 3 maybe 4 pieces and began patting her dress as if looking for more. Finnrick stopped her, pocketing the gold and shaking his head no. The creature was not satisfied by this and began to gesture wildly about. Finnrick remained steadfast. He gestured to himself, lips speaking but Caitlyn couldn’t read whathe was mouthing this far away. The figure said nothing as a small child matching her skin tone appeared from out of nowhere. The child gestured to his wrist excitedly though nothing was there. The figure scooped the child in her arm and gently kissed his forehead. She glanced to Finnrick and was gone. A gentle warm breeze sailed past Caitlyn’s hidden spot, dispelling the frigid 2 a.m. air.

Finnrick chuckled to himself and despite on the verge of collapsing, made his way to the kitchen. He remained there for a few minutes and reemerged with a steaming cup of those instant noodles found at the store. He made his way over to the window and lifted it open. He placed the foam cup on the fire escape and hastily wrote a note which he folded carefully next to the food.

And with his job seemingly done, he made turned off the lights with a flourish of his hand and made his way to his bedroom. He closed the door and did not reappear.

Caitlyn flew over with the few minutes she had left in her wings. She picked up the cup of ramen, contently sighing with its warmth. She grabbed the note and read it aloud, curious what Finnrick wrote.

Caitlyn felt a chill of run down her spine as she read “Hey! Noticed you watching me and given you didn’t try to attack me, I assumed you had your reasons. If you’re trying to track me for your boss, here’s your warning! I will destroy everything they hold dear. You possibly included. If you just were a person or fae that was just curious, have a warm meal on me! It’s cold out so bundle up. Have a good one and don’t touch the window. I am a powerful warder.” F- :)

Caitlyn couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across her lips as she saw the cute smiley Finnrick had ended the note with.

She held the cup close as she made her way to street level. Finnrick told her she’d understand in time. She wished she understood now but she shocked to find herself more than willing to find out.

[free-pool-trash]

folklore - isaac lahey {5/?}

hey! this part is honestly mostly angst? like i think the start of it is ok but the rest is angsty as hell, because pre-bite isaac <333

mostly isaac/reader in this chapter and a little Derek towards the end, also peter but mans can’t talk yet so idk if he counts?

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!!! reblogs and comments are so appreciated <3

word count: 4k

warnings: blood, sad thoughts, reader being sad, isaac being sad, mentions of abuse, swearing

FOLKLORE MASTERLIST

Taglist: @makeusfreefromthisfandom​, @cece-lives-here​, @chocolate-raspberries​, @belsandthings​, @dancing-tacos-23​, @truly-dionysus​, @britty443​, @tanyaherondale​, @furiouspockettoad​, @yunsh-17​, @random-thoughts-003​, @gloomybrieyxb​, @futuristicslimemongerbanana​, @linkpk88​, @big-galaxy-chaos​, @im-a-stranger-thing​, @riaisnotcool​ let me know if you’d like to be added <3

The lights in his room were dim as they always were when you walked in. It’d been nearly two weeks since you’d last visited Peter, between becoming a vampire and trying not to get in a fist fight with Derek every five minutes you hadn’t had the time or energy to visit your favourite Hale.

When your eyes fell on him a strange feeling settled over your chest, you couldn’t quite put your finger on the sensation but if you had to describe it in one word; unsettling. It didn’t deter you from sitting in front of the man the feeling was coming from, though. If you were trapped in your own body you’d probably feel a little unsettled too.

Not wanting to waste anymore time you sat down in your usual seat across from Peter, shaking the feeling off as best you could before giving him a pleased smile, “Long time no see. I’ve got so much to tell you…” You trailed off, shaking your head when you caught yourself waiting for him to reply.

“First of all I got attacked by a werewolf which sucked and now I’m a vampire which, coincidentally, also requires a lot of sucking.” Silence.

“And I made some new friends, which is cool- Isaac got a little jealous but it’s fine, I handled it. I feel bad keeping him in the dark about all of this but I just want to keep him safe y’know?” Of course you received no answer, opting to continue filling Peter in despite his usual lack of response.

“Your nephew has been driving me crazy, by the way.” You informed him, letting out a grunt at the thought of how annoying Derek had been over the last few days, “He’s got this tough guy thing going on, I think it’s just to psych Scott out honestly, which is fine! But it’s the fact that he’s keeping it up with me as if I haven’t known him for seventeen years!” 

If Peter had control over his body you knew he would’ve laughed at your annoyance towards his nephew, he always had. Whenever Derek teased you growing up, it was always Peter that you’d go running to.

“Uncle Peter!” The man sighed at the sound of your shrill voice, closing the book he’d been reading out on the porch as you ran up to him with an angry pout on your face.

“What’s up, kiddo?” He asked, opening his arms as you threw yourself into them. You let out a puff of air, settling yourself on Peter’s knee as he sat on the porch steps. “Derek said that because I’m only six I can’t play basketball with him and his friends!” You whined.

Peter only scoffed, his arms pulling you close as he raised an eyebrow, “Don’t worry, sweetheart. They’re idiots, each and every one of them.” 

There was always something about uncle Peter, he had a certain tone of voice that made anything he spoke sound like gospel. If Peter said it, you believed it. That was just how it was, thinking about it now you figured that your attachment and high level of trust in Peter probably had something to do with the fact that he’d practically initiated you into his pack when you were so young. Truth be told, he was the hardest loss of the Hale’s for you to come to terms with because even though he hadn’t died he’d still been lost.

You twiddled with your fingers as your thoughts began to wander, getting the hang of heightened emotions wasn’t so easy now that you were sat in front of Peter, or what was left of him. You hadn’t noticed the tears that had built up in your eyes until they began to sneak down your cheeks, slipping down your chin and coating your neck with their salty stream.

All you could do was imagine that he was more than an empty shell, that he was himself and listening intently, that he was just waiting for you to finish before he offered his sage advice.

“I really wish you could tell me how to handle all of this.” You sniffled out, pressure in your chest growing as, for once, it was the weight of your own emotions weighing it down. 

Since being turned you hadn’t gotten a chance to stop and breathe or really even think about what was happening to you, living in a constant state of confusion, fear and loss. 

“I just feel… so lonely that I can hardly breathe sometimes-“ Your breath hitching stopped your confession in its tracks while your tears continued to fall freely down your face, there was no point in trying to wipe them away- you’d broken the dam.

Your watering eyes focused on the ceiling as you poured your heart out to the man who was essentially your second father, despite the fact he was more or less completely unresponsive you still couldn’t bring yourself to meet his empty gaze. 

“Nobody knows what I am, really. And it’s like I’m all on my own and nobody knows how to help me or- or anything!” Eventually you met his eyes and it was then that your feeling of sorrow grew considerably bigger, the pang in your heart sinking all the way down to the pit of your stomach as a new layer of tears replaced the ones that had just fallen down your cheeks.

“I’ve upset you.” You stated, heart racing at the fact you’d managed to upset Peter Hale himself.

Quickly you wiped your tears away, your face was still wet as you took a deep breath, shaking away the feeling that was eating you up. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be crying I just- I really need someone to talk to, you know? Usually I’d go and rant to Isaac but I can’t tell him anything and it’s killing me but everyone told me not to and I also told myself not to… it’s a mess. I’m just so lost.”

Peter, as usual remained quiet, but there was something in his eyes- it was quick and barely there but you’d seen it. They’d flashed red. 

*

After you composed yourself, you left Peter’s room and made your way to school, you’d woken up early to visit Peter.

As soon as you entered the building your feet moved quickly towards your locker, you sorted your books out as fast as you could before making your way to Isaac’s locker. Your meeting with Peter had shaken you up and honestly, in the moment, you just needed your best friend. 

As usual when you arrived by Isaac’s side you alerted him by gently tugging on his sleeve, you didn’t know why but he was extremely nervous, to the point where you felt your own stomach beginning to turn. Even though you’d sought him out for your own comfort you discarded that plan as soon as you met his eyes, he needed to be comforted more than you did right now.

“What’s wrong?” You immediately blurted out, grabbing his free hand that hung by his side unlike the other that held his locker door open, knuckles turning white from how tightly he clung to the metal door.

Isaac only shook his head, he gave you the smile that he always gave you, the one that screamed “please don’t worry about me” but you knew better than to believe that smile because as gorgeous as it is, it’s fake.

“I’m okay, don’t worry.” He squeezed your hand in an effort to deter you, but yet again, you knew better. 

Letting your eyes roll, you furrowed your brows, “Seriously, tell me what’s bothering you.” You demand not missing the defeated look that fell on his face when he hung his head, brown curls falling over his eyes, “Nothing, (Y/n). Just the parent teacher conferences are happening tonight…” He trailed off as he shuffled his feet.

The realization of why he was so nervous about it hit you like a ton of bricks and you didn’t care who was watching when you threw your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into you with a sigh. “How is it gonna go?” You asked, already knowing the answer would be: not well.

Isaac’s arms held you against him tightly, stabilizing you as you had to stand on your tiptoes to get a good grip around his shoulders, ever since he’d had his growth spurt when you were both thirteen if you wanted to hug him properly you’d always need to get on your tiptoes. He wouldn’t lie though, he thought it was the cutest thing. 

“I’ve got a C minus in Chem.” He muttered against your neck, tightening his grip on you for dear life, you both knew Mr Lahey wouldn’t be pleased. 

With a little grin, in an attempt to lighten the mood you pulled your head back to look your best friend in the eyes, “Should we dip? Run away? Move to France?” The question was made with humor but you were really considering the thought of just dragging him out of the school’s double doors and flying away to somewhere sunny where the pair of you wouldn’t have to deal with any of the shit you have to deal with in Beacon Hills. 

Isaac gave you a sad smile, connecting his lips to your forehead quickly with rosy cheeks before disconnecting from you, “I think that would probably make things worse.”

Before you could respond Isaac shut his locker and spoke again, “Anyway, what had you so upset a few minutes ago?”

Deciding that today wasn’t the best day to confide in him you simply offered him a sad smile and weak explanation.

“Just woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Wanted a hug.” Isaac let out an airy laugh, tilting his head to the side with a smile.

He beckoned you in for a side hug, “Get in here.” Immediately you obliged, attaching yourself to the boy’s side as the pair of you walked towards your first class of the day.

All you hoped was that his anxiety didn’t get the better of him today or later on when his father confronted him, so, as any good friend with supernatural abilities would, before you parted ways you made sure to transfer some much needed relaxation onto the boy who was positively teeming with fear. For now, it was all you could do for him without exposing yourself, you prayed it was enough.

*

As the day drew on your mind drifted from your conversation with Peter to your conversation with Isaac constantly. Understandably. You needed to get on top of your heightened emotions and you needed to do it fast, because to put it simply; you were drowning.

But like you mentioned to Peter, nobody knew anything about anything, not even Deaton could tell you how to gain control or even tell you the full extent of your capabilities. The loneliness was what hit the most. It was that empty, distant, ever-sinking feeling that was slowly but surely swallowing you whole. Scott had Derek, not to mention Stiles, to help him figure out everything he needed to know, an experienced wolf and a loyal best friend to walk him through everything, to support him, to keep him grounded, to tell him the dos and don’ts of being a wolf.

What did you have? An unwavering loyalty to a member of a pack who was barely even alive? Half baked theories from books of lore that your parents managed to dig up from some dusty corner of the attic? Derek who spent all of his time focused on Scott despite a member of his own pack being in obvious distress? A best friend you can’t confide in because he’s just as broken as you are? It didn’t seem fair.

The bite turned you to a vampire instead of a wolf, every night you wondered why you’d taken this form when seemingly nobody else had ever been turned by wolf bite, the conclusion you’d come to was that it was just some sick karmic joke. A test of endurance that you weren’t sure if you were going to pass. The universe spotted you- hand picked you as it’s favourite love-sick, hopeless romantic with a heart too big for her body and with a soul that felt emotions as vast and deep as the ocean. It chose you, but the gag was you never wanted it to be you. For once, you wished someone else had won the prize that felt more like a curse.

It was all too much. You felt too deeply. Every emotion consumed you, every sound vibrated like bass from a speaker, every touch sparked like static and every beating heart made you hungry. But every time you even so much as pondered simply giving in to the feelings, of letting go of that rope that seemed to be holding your empathy close and letting it fall away, every time you entertained those thoughts that voice, from the first night, would ring through your skull and echo until you agreed to the words being spoken by the oh so familiar voice. Don’t let it kill you.

Scott had been nowhere to be seen all day, nor had Allison, it was only when you’d spotted Stiles sitting alone at lunch that you’d realized that the wolf and his girlfriend probably ditched. 

The final bell eventually signaled the end of the school day, solemnly you walked alongside Isaac towards the doors of the school, stomach twisting with anxiety knowing that the next time you’d be seeing him he’d more than likely be barring a new bruise or emotional scar.

“Can I drive you home?” You asked, hoping he’d say yes but understanding when he shook his head no, “I cycled here, I’ll take my bike. Thank you though.”

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, looking at him with worry clear on your face, it was all you could focus on and you were half sure he could feel it too, your efforts of masking it failing.

Isaac could feel the worry seeping off you, but even before you’d turned he always had a knack from knowing when something was on your mind. He knew all your tells, when you were worrying about something you’d bite your lip and furrow your eyebrows, when you were upset you’d wring your hands together or play with your fingers, he knew how you were feeling whenever you were feeling it purely because of the mannerisms you used when you were around him. It’s how he knew that you’ve been hiding something from him since you’d been attacked, the boy didn’t know what it was but he saw it weighing you down, he was determined to get to the bottom of it so he could be there for you. He let out a heavy sigh when he realized in the moment that the roles were reversed and with the way you gazed at him he knew you wanted to be there for him, like you always were.

“I’m gonna be okay, nothing that hasn’t happened before.” He finally spoke in an attempt to reassure you that there was nothing to worry about but his statement only served to upset you more and he silently cursed himself as he watched the corners of your lips sink downward. “It shouldn’t happen ever.” You told him softly, trying your very best to keep your composure when you heard your voice crack.

Glancing around quickly, Isaac grabbed your wrist and tugged you towards your car, knowing how much you hated getting upset in front of people he took the initiative to carry on the conversation in the confines of your car away from the rest of the prying students.

Once you were both situated in the front seats, Isaac spoke up, “I know that you hate seeing me hurt, I know it shouldn’t be like this but it is. I’ll survive, you need to stop worrying about me so much, (N/n).”

“You don’t deserve this.” You muttered, sorrow dripping from each word. 

“(Y/n)-“

“No Isaac! You don’t deserve to be treated like this! Every time I see you hurt it makes me so fucking angry because when you tell me what happened you say it as though you had it coming! But you never do, you never have it coming!” The words left your mouth in a high pitched string of cries as Isaac simply lowered his gaze to his lap, hating how your voice shook in agony for him.

With every word you spoke you became more and more worked up, tears trickling down your face freely now that all the cars in the parking lot were more or less gone. “And every single time I wish I could do more for you- I wish that I could make you see what I see.” Your confession was fragile, the words barely audible as they passed your lips.

Isaac lifted his head, his own eyes welling up, “You have no idea how much you do for me so don’t think like that.” He demanded, his tone far more assertive than you’d ever known it to be.

His hand met your face, gently but quickly, his palm cupping your cheek while his thumb brushed away your tears. For a second, you closed your eyes, imagining the feeling of his hand cupping your cheek happening under better circumstances before reconnecting your eyes with his.

“I’m gonna go home.” He told you, sad smile on his lips as you shook your head, gripping the wrist of the hand he still had placed on your cheek desperately. “Stay.”

“I’ll come over to yours tonight ok? But you have to let me leave.” When you didn’t move, he sighed and pulled his hand away from you himself, trying not to wince at the hurt look on your face.

Your best friend opened the car door and stepped out, leaning in with an arm resting against the top of the door with a look on his face that you couldn’t pinpoint, that feeling had returned to your chest though, the light and flowy one. “Love you, kid.” His lips formed a cheeky grin when the nickname caused you to smile, he hadn’t rubbed the fact he was two months older than you in your face recently, you should’ve seen it coming. Finally allowing yourself to give him a weak smile you gave him an equally as weak, but still meaningful, “Love you too, idiot.” Before he shut the car door and made his way towards his bike.

*

To put the cherry on top of an already stressful day when you got home Derek was waiting at your dining table expectantly. The first words leaving his mouth being, “Where’s Scott?”

You rolled your eyes at him, walking into the kitchen and grabbing a blood bag out of your fridge, Stiles had been sweet enough to fill some bags for you since you were both still trying to work out the whole euphoric feeding situation, feeding on Stiles on a school night usually meant Stiles being completely away with the fairies the next morning and obviously you needed to feed during the week. Blood wasn’t as tasty cold but as weird as it was to admit, it still slapped.

Taking a sip from the small straw sticking out of the bag you raised an eyebrow at the wolf in front of you, “I dunno, Derek. Where’s my hello?” 

“This is serious.” He growled, “So am I.” You rebutted, taking another sip as the man grew more irritable.

He didn’t answer, only growled at you, he was probably hoping you’d buy into his ridiculous power play. You didn’t, obviously.

Nonchalantly, you lifted yourself up onto the counter of the kitchen island, facing Derek and sipping your blood happily.

“Growl at me all you want, D. Scott might buy into your big bad wolf act but I remember when you used to watch Barbie movies with me every single day.” You told him matter of factly, “Things are different now. Scott needs my help.” At his statement your carefree demeanor faltered. You needed his help, but not once since you’d been bitten had the man you considered a brother offered you even a morsel of support but yet here he was in your home, asking for a beta he barely knows.

“If Scott was around today would you have come to see me?” You asked him, keeping your voice as steady as you could.

Derek shook his head as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “No, because I’m looking for Scott.”

Slowly you nodded your head, allowing his words to sink in. Today had been emotionally draining, sure, but you couldn’t find the strength within yourself to leave this alone.

“So where exactly am I on your supernatural list of priorities? Or am I even on it at all?” The question was harsher than you intended but Derek had a fairly hard head, if you wanted to get a point across you sometimes had to be a little less than gentle with the delivery.

The wolf groaned, head falling back in exhaustion, “Can we not do this right now?” 

Slapping the now empty blood bag down beside you and crossing your arms, you glared, “Answer my question.”

He gave you a hard look, standing up from his seat in what you assumed was an attempt to intimidate you, “I’ll admit you’re not my top priority right now, alright? Scott needs me, you’ll be fine.” A humorless laugh left your lips as you jumped down from the counter, squaring up to the taller man before you with absolutely no fear.

“Are you sure about that, D? Cuz last time I checked, Scott has Allison and Stiles and Deaton and you telling him exactly what to do and when to do it. I have no one.” Derek bit his tongue, his jaw clenched and lips pursed before he gave you a response, “He needs all the help he can get. Your abilities aren’t as difficult to get the hang of as his are.”

“Oh yeah?” It was a challenge, not only had he managed to piss you off and upset you at the same time, he’d also managed to erase the pain of your own transition in favour of defending Scott. 

Derek sighed, the voice in his head telling him to step down when he noticed your fists clenched tightly into balls against your side, “Look (Y/n)-“ He started before a gasp ripped from his throat when you arm gripped his.

The anger, the fear, the pain, the loneliness, the confusion, the weight that came from feeling everything all at once, you made him feel it all, not releasing your tight grip on his bicep until he’d looked down at you with tears glazing his eyes.

Roughly, you ripped you hand from his arm, purple eyes glowing as you stood chest to chest with him, “Maybe if you bothered to check up on me you’d know that my shift wasn’t easy, I don’t have the hang of my abilities and every single morning I wake up and think about how much easier my life would be if I just let them destroy me.” You were seething, Derek’s face was painted in shock as he stood at a loss for words.

“But hey! By all means go help Scott. What’s pack loyalty anyway?” Your words were seeped in venom and as soon as they left your mouth you took advantage of your enhanced speed, running from the room only leaving a gust of wind and an emotionally overwhelmed Derek in your wake.