#like I just took a bit to realize “I keep drawing the same pose.. this is getting old”.

[sunset-mp4]

tip to all artist; experiment! with! angles and poses! I got tired of how my pages looked because I just kept drawing the same angle and pose over and over again.

experiment! do some distance, do some walking, show them holding something, zoom in zoom out! you won't regret it, it really adds spice.

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

hi, love your writing! can i request Cater, Rook, Vil, Lilia, and Leona seeing their s/o wear something that turns them on/thinks is very attractive on them? thank you!

Cater Diamond:

While his first impulse might be to take a picture of the beautiful scene before him, while ordering you to pose accordingly, this was a look Cater was unwilling to share with the world. He wished he could be as smooth as he imagined but he feels his face going warm, trying to keep his thoughts in line as this wasn’t the ideal opportunity to take advantage of the outfit you’re wearing. He does mumble that your casual cruelty was killing him, nuzzling your shoulder and asking how you’d repay him if he behaved.

Leona Kingscholar:

Leona knows that you’re doing it for him, a ‘subtle’ way to beg for his attention without having to physically get on your knees for him. He can’t take advantage of it right away, pretending not to notice the efforts you’re going to, treating you so casually you would almost think you got demoted from being his lover. It’s when you’re just about to be alone, with company still bothering you, that Leona touches your waist, leaning over to whisper sweet promises in your ear to return your affections if you can manage a quick escape with him.

Lilia Vanrouge:

Lilia’s sly smile lets you know he’s caught on right away, giving a more censored comment on your outfit if others were around. He would whisper in your ear that you’re a tease, playing with the material of your outfit as he asked what had inspired you to wear such a thing. He would chuckle if you tried to play innocent, promising to pull out your honest, sinful desires when you were alone that night.

Rook Hunt:

Rook has always had a fine eye for art, and he can certainly tell when you’re all dolled up for him. He thinks it’s only right to respond with appreciation, considering you a hands on exhibit as he runs them along your body. He whispered in your ear that you always managed to draw his attention in the most unexpected ways, even when you didn’t realize. He gave some observations about the outfit, the color entirely flattering, the fit perfect for your body, he couldn’t get enough of you.

Vil Schoenheit:

Vil always felt an ego stroke when you appealed to his taste, down to the very material you clothed your body with as you knew he liked the way it felt. He needed a bit of a show first, making you show off your trick, modeling your beauty for him to give him a taste of what he was getting soon. He enjoyed admiring you the same way you admired him, considering it returning the favor as you often asked for the same thing when he took your tastes into mind. He enjoyed seeing the pieces you wore, hoping he helped you expand or grow in confidence when it came to trying new fashion.  

[digenerate-trash]

yan asks you say

Whitney attacking kylar when he sees Kylar's drawings of PC

Look at you rolling into the ask box and asking for freak-on-freak crime. 

I love that about you <3

(also you know I’m a slut for Whitney but lets do some one-sided love shit and maybe put my boy in some danger) 

|AMAB Whitney and Kylar|

Whitney had lost interest in a lot of things. School. His friends. Even the weekly pub trip he used to take had lost its flavor. But he had especially lost interest in tormenting other students. It just didn't have the same appeal anymore. 

He only really had one target now. You, whether you liked it or not were constantly occupying the bully's mind. He was always thinking of you at all hours of the day. 

you scratched a particular itch he wasn't used to feeling, which monopolized his time. He spent months trying to ignore the feelings he was developing but every time he denied it it came back worse. 

The dreams were what had bothered him the most though, You took over his subconscious and burned into his dreams, his moments of peace were interrupted by obsessive thoughts of you. Having you. Keeping you. And now as he stares at the scattered pile of sketches that the freak had dropped he realizes that he wasn't the only one you have infected. 

The back of his throat burned as he stared down at the drawings. Just out of the back of the school, Kylar was the last person he thought he would run into but here he was on his knees to start collecting the pages into his arms. Pictures of you were drawn suggestively. Some were tame but others were decidedly not. Whitney's stomach turned when he thought about the freak asking you to pose for him. Being flirty and happy with him as he drew you over and over. Naked, vulnerable, alone, with Kylar. 

Whitney couldn't stand the thought anymore so he just lunged at Kylar. He was tearing the drawings ripping them apart. If he couldn't have you like that no one could- his jaw clenched when Kylar fought over the scraps of paper. Like a feral animal, he bit and scratched at Whitney. Every little bite and hit and scratch Whitney returned twice as hard. 

Kylar was bleeding and shaking when he finally took a step back. Whitney had thought he’d won. Wiping the blood from his face he tore the last of the pages glaring down at Kylar. 

That was it. The last straw. 

Kylar charged Whitney and punched him one more time in the stomach. Whitney winced. The punch stung. but it wasn't hard to shove Kylar back down and away from him. 

Whitney's hand reached instinctively down to hold his stomach as he watched Kylar run, presumably somewhere to hide and cry like the coward he was. 

Whitney was panting, the adrenaline wearing off. He felt a little queezy as He pulled his hand away from his stomach and looked down at it… 

Blood... 

That's a lot of blood.

[mumblemoose]

So I'm going to post about an ongoing project of mine even though it's probably a bit premature. I call it the Princess Paper Doll project although it involves a fair number of not princesses. It technically started as the Disney Princess Paper Doll project but it stopped being Disney about ten minutes after I conceived the idea. Anyway, it's gonna be a long one so if you're at all curious it's under the cut.

About a decade ago now (I think) my mom bought a set of Disney Princess paper dolls for my niece. This delighted me, first because I had Disney paper dolls as a kid, and second because of a unique feature of this particular set.

See, in this set, all of the princesses were in the same pose. Like so:

And I immediately thought that was pretty cool because they could all wear each other's clothes. I also thought that because they were all posed the same and they could therefore all wear each other's clothes, it would be fairly easy (for a moderately savvy artist) to copy the base and add other characters to the lineup and even if it took longer to make their outfits, they wouldn't have to be naked in their underwear. The Princess and the Frog being the last movie that Disney had released at the time and my niece being from New Orleans and some of her family being kinda grossly racist I decided to begin with Tiana:

However, the more observant among you may notice, as I did not for a while, that they cannot all wear each other's clothes. Tiana here, along with half of the other princesses, is wearing a wide skirt. So none of them can wear anything designed for Jasmine. Also, the set kind of sucks so Aurora up there can't even keep one of her own dresses on, there are just not enough tabs to defy gravity.

So I started over with a new base and tried again.

I worked on that long enough to get most of the bases for the Disney Princesses done, decided I didn't like the pose, I think, and set it aside.

Time for version 3.

I apparently did not get very far with this one. I only made 4 bases this time (Anna, Ariel, Pocahontas, and Mulan). But I made an entire dress for Anna (her coronation gown) and all of the outfits for Mulan. Then I started drawing clothes for Pocahontas and realized that I'd made a terrible mistake. See, Pocahontas, in the sequel, wears a ballgown and full cage crinolin and they weren't going to get along with that hand on the hip. So time to try again.

Version 4 is where I start gaining some consistency. The model here is mostly what I stick with going forward and I made some pretty good progress.

I did eventually scrap this one too, because I was having trouble navigating some of the skirts on the wide stance as evidenced by Charlotte (I do not profess to be a master artist).

So version 5.

You'll note that aside from Chel they are all only in Kida's underwear and that's because I decided fairly quickly into the clothing process that these ladies were too damn skinny. I'm not actually sure why they got so much skinnier from v4 to v5 but it had to go.

Version 6. Actually, I'm going to skip version 6 entirely here. It is identical to version 7 (the current version) except that I decided their busts were a little too big to accommodate everyone (and even the ones it seemed to accommodate looked better with the adjustment). Luckily this is the point where I started using Illustrator for the lineart so it was fairly easy to make the adjustment on the wealth of clothes I had already finished in v6. Anyway, now I've made most of the bases I have planned and at least one outfit for each (except Rapunzel because there is soooo much detail that after I did the rough sketch I was not prepared to do the clean lines). I started experimenting with how to make the different hairstyles work with Belle and Anastasia (why those two? who knows) so they have all of their hairstyles to go with their bases, and Tiana and Pocahontas have all of their clothes (and almost all Tiana's hair, though I haven't fixed it for actual interchangeability when printed).

These do have tabs, by the way, they're just hidden unless I'm running a test print to make sure they work.

Now, full disclosure I mostly traced their heads from screencaps. I am not sufficiently versed in animated women that I can confidently draw all of those faces. I drew the base and I'm drawing the clothes.

Nothing is shaded partly because I'm not great at shading and partly because I've learned the hard way that it sucks to do all the shading and then make a minor adjustment and have to do it all over again.

Also I say Tiana has most of her hair because I want to include her Wreck-It-Wralph 2 hair (you'll note the outfit is there) but I am shit at drawing hair in general and worse at drawing curly hair (you'll note Merrida) and I can't find any 2d art of her with that hairstyle that I can use either to trace or as reference.

Incidentally, as much as possible I am trying to make each piece separate so the aprons come off of the Duke's and Cal's diner dresses for Tiana, Anna, Ariel, and Aurora are wearing a blouse, skirt and corset, so on and so forth. It allows for a lot more mixing and matching and it creates a more 3d effect that's kind of neat.

The full list, in case you can't recognize everyone or read their name on the base is: Anastasia (Anastasia), Anna (Frozen), Ariel (The Little Mermaid), Aurora (Sleeping Beauty), Belle (Beauty and the Beast), Charlotte (The Princess and the Frog), Chel (The Road to El Dorado), Cinderella (Cinderella), Elsa (Frozen), Esmeralda (The Hunchback of Notre Dame), Giselle (Enchanted), Jane (Tarzan), Jasmine (Aladdin), Kayley (Quest for Camelot), Kidagakash (Atlantis), Marina (Sinbad), Megara (Hercules), Merrida (Brave), Moana (Moana), Mulan (Mulan), Nani (Lilo & Stitch), Odette (The Swan Princess), Pocahontas (Pocahontas), Rapunzel (Tangled), Snow White (Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs), Thumbelina (Thumbelina), and Tiana (The Princess and the Frog).

I'm planning on adding Amalthea (Last Unicorn) at some point. I also keep waffling about Mirriam and Tzipporah (Prince of Egypt) because they are awesome animated women who deserve to be included but also I am not Jewish and I worry it's disrespectful somehow (although Pocahontas is in there so that ship's kinda sailed, hasn't it?). I'll probably try to add Mirabel (Encanto) eventually. I ought to add Nancy (Enchanted), but that's still a big question mark. In the theoretical grand plan I'm going to do the fellas eventually to, though that may be a bit more complicated. I'm also open to suggestions. However, I'm probably gonna try to get more of these ladies finished before I add to the roster.

By the way, do not come on this post to complain about women's body types in animation. This is for fun. I'm having fun with it. I worked really hard to make this work at all. Just don't.

[the-black-swan-paracosm]

Teen Wolf story idea

(Please use or write, then send me the link)

So, I really love Season 3B of Teen Wolf. Specifically, Void!Stiles.

What I want in this AU is for Stiles’ possession symptoms to be written in more depth.

I want more inability to read, inability to differentiate dream from reality, panic attacks.

I wrote out a section where Stiles’ leg was actually caught in the bear trap during his sleepwalking episode. I like the idea of a villain with a limp, calmly walking through his own chaos.

I also want Stiles to believe he has frontal temporal dementia (up to you if that’s true) because no one ever told him otherwise or that it was the Nogitsune playing a trick.

(This can also be a crossover fic, I imagine Vampire Diaries/The Originals)

Here it is:

Stiles gasped as woke up but found that he wasn't in his room. He wasn't even in his bed. He was on a hard, stone floor. He looked around and saw that he was somewhere dark with only a bit of light pouring in from a stained glass ceiling. An awful smell also started to fill his nostrils. Where was he, and how did he even get here? It was a moment later that he realized that he was freezing. He went to move to stand up when he heard a metallic jingle as he tried to move his leg. He looked down to see that leg was caught in a steel jawed trap. It was clamped on him just above his ankle and there was blood everywhere. Stiles was so stunned that he couldn't scream correctly. It came out as a whimpered cry as his eyes started to burn and cry. Through his tears he started to look around and noticed that his phone was a few feet away from him. Stiles grit his teeth and started to push up on his arms to try and crawl to it. His trap free leg felt numb while his trap clamped leg sent a hard and burning sting up his body and made a bite of pressure at his head. Stiles' face tightened as he tried to fight through the pain to try and reach his phone to call for help.

But Stiles stopped as he heard some kind of sound in the darkness. At first, he thought that it was the wind, but he then realized that it sounded more like…someone breathing. "Whose there?" he called out weakly. "Is someone there?"

But no one answered him yet Stiles could still hear those same low breathing and hissing sounds. He then tried to keep moving but he kept his eyes out as he tried to see through the darkness. It felt like it took forever between moving such short inches between burning pain spasms, and trying to survey the room, before his fingers finally managed to grasp his phone. He turned on and saw to his horror that he only had a bit of battery power left. He had to move fast. He got to his contact list and quickly went to call for Scott.

He heard three dial tones but Scott wasn't picking up. "No, come on Scott," he nearly wept. "Pick up." But then he heard Scott's voicemail message and let his head sag down a bit. When he heard the beep he let out a whimper before he started to speak. He quickly left a message before his phone 's battery died out.

Lydia was in the school's art room trying to draw a portrait with Aiden as her model. He was sitting on a stool in a single pose while Lydia tried her best to capture it on her canvas. But Aiden couldn't hold the pose and let his muscles slag down.

"I said hold still," Lydia told him sternly.

Aiden then went to go back to his pose. "Are we even allowed to be here this late? What if security catches us?"

A small smirk found its way onto Lydia's face. "There is no security. The number of homicides in this school have seen to it that no sane person will ever take a night job here ever again." How was that for a silver lining?

Aiden let a small smirk find its way to him now. "So, we're all alone?" he asked mischievously as he rested his arm and straightened up.

"You're losing the pose again."

"You know, when you said that you wanted me to model for you, this wasn't what I thought you had in mind."

"Oh really?" Lydia could already guess what Aiden thought, which was proven not a second later when Aiden went to pull his sweatshirt up and over his head before going back to his pose that way. "If you're thinking nude modeling than its usually done without the pants." Lydia turned back to her portrait but she then heard the sounds of a zipper being undone and then felt the pants hit her head. She looked over to see that Aiden was smiling at her and then went to remove his boxers next. But, before he could, Lydia felt a cold chill travel up her spine and something just beyond her hearing. And it was getting louder. So loud, that she quickly stood up, so fast that her stool fell. "Do you hear that?" she asked him.

Aiden stopped when he noticed the look on her face. "Hear what?"

"You're telling me that you don't hear that?"

"I hear music, what do you hear?"

Lydia's eyes moved off. "Voices," she almost whispered.

She then looked over at the speakers but didn't hear music. She was hearing heavy breathing. Whimpering. And then a small voice saying: "Come find me. Please."

Aiden took a step over to her. "Lydia, what is it? Whose voice do you hear?"

Lydia took a deep breath but kept her eyes on the radio. "It's Stiles."

Chris Argent was with Dr. Deaton at the animal clinic, looking over a map.

Chris pointed his finger over a certain area. "It likes to roam through these grounds. He likes to keep at least two men watching over that section of his estate but they change rounds every two hours. You'll have just over a minute. That will be your window," he instructed the vet.

Deaton nodded. "Thank you. That should give me the access I need." Deaton then moved to fold the map up.

"Are you sure that it will work?" Chris asked him.

Deaton looked over and gave him a nod. "Positive. If we want to stop the Nogitsune, then we'll need some. Hopefully I shouldn't be gone too long." He then moved to grab his coat and reach for his bag.

But Argent put his hand right on top of it before he could grab it. "I'm trusting you to get what we need to give us a fighting chance. But, I wonder why you aren't trusting me Alan."

Despite the hostility that Chris spoke to him with, Deaton just looked calmly back at him. "I trust you well enough Chris. Enough to help me get through this trip alive."

"Then why are you not telling me who you believe the Nogitsune is possessing?"

"It's not exactly belief. More of an educated guess."

"Fine, then why won't you share with me your educated guess then?"

Deaton kept the calm look about him as he stared back at the slight glare that Argent was giving him. "Because while I may trust you with my life, I don't trust you with the life of someone who is an innocent victim."

"I've never taken an innocent's life," Argent argued.

"No," Deaton cut in. "You never have, according to your code. Correct?" He was looking rather pointedly at Argent as he said that.

Chris let himself take a deep breath. "I follow a new code now," he told him.

"Your daughter started a new code and she is still young and new enough to all of this to follow it. However, after years of living and learning under your previous code, for you to suddenly move and live by another might be easier said than done. Can you really be made to fight against years of training and engraved instinct? How is it that the saying goes? 'You can never teach an old dog new tricks'. Speaking as someone who's worked with many dogs over the course of my career, I've learned that isn't necessarily true, but it's just how it is for nearly most cases."

"You're confusing me with my father," Chris tried to argue.

"No, I understand perfectly well who you are Chris. That's why I'm not telling you anything. At least, not until after I get what I need."

Chris Argent kept that hard stare on Deaton before he turned and went off to leave through the front door of the clinic without another word. Deaton then went to shut off the light before he left too and then locked the door. The sounds of his footsteps became fainter as he moved further away. In his office, the sound of a car starting up could be faintly heard just before the phone started to ring.

Scott was in his room, putting on a new shirt as he was waiting for Deaton to pick up. After five rings, he hung up.

"Deaton's still not answering," he mumbled.

Isaac was off at the other side of his room, holding the shirt that Scott in front of him. He was examining the scorch mark that was at his chest. "Well, we need help to try and find out how to stop a guy that shoots lightning out of his hands." He then tossed it off to a random spot. "You didn't see anything that could tell us who it was?"

"No," Scott huffed out as he kept his face to his phone as he tried Deaton again. "I couldn't see his face and he ran too fast for me to get anything off him."

"Did you at least get a scent?" Isaac asked.

But Scott shook his head. "No, I didn't and I tried. It was like, he didn't have one."

Isaac's eyebrows rose up. "He didn't have a scent? How is that possible?"

"I don't know, but, at least this guy has an aura. It's like how we could see one around Kira when we use our wolf eyes. We just got to keep a lookout for it and then we'll find them." Scott then went and hung up. "Deaton must not be at the clinic, and I tried him both at his home and his cell." But then Scott's phone started ringing. He looked down at the screen and saw that it was Lydia who was calling him. "Lydia?"

Kira was reading some pages of folklore that she collected on Kitsunes. She was reading that Kitsunes often lived for centuries of time and their lifespans could be measured by the number of tails that they possessed. The more older the kitsune was then the more stronger and powerful they tended to be. As she was reading, the lamp by her bedside suddenly went out. She reached over and tried to turn it back on but it stayed shut off.

"Mom!" she called out. "My lamp's dead! Do we have any more bulbs?"

She took the casing off and went to try and take the bulb off but as her hand rubbed against it, it shined brightly. It happened so fast that she pulled her hand away and then it shut off. Kira slowly moved her hand closer to the bulb again and it started to dimly light up. The light got brighter the closer she put her hand to it. She then went to touch it and she saw some sparks fly around inside of it before it went and burst.

Just as her mother walked in and stopped as she looked from her to the lamp. "What did you do?" she asked with a bit of an accusing tone.

"Uh, nothing. It was an accident," she said as she moved to try and clean up the shards.

"It's after midnight, you should already be asleep." She then moved to replace the broken light bulb. As she was screwing the new one on, there was a moment where sparks flew inside of it. One that she noticed Kira had noticed. She then moved to quickly finish fastening it before it turned on. "Go to sleep," she told her daughter.

Kira watched her mother as she left the room before she looked back at the lamp. She knew what she saw. Whatever she had done with the lamp, her mother had done the exact same thing.

Lydia and Aiden were standing in Stiles' dimly lit room and turned around as the door burst open and Scott and Isaac came on in with nervous and shocked looks on their faces.

"What happened? You said something happened to Stiles! Did he call you?" Scott asked them.

"No, I heard it," Lydia quickly told them.

Aiden quickly saw that they were getting confused. "Don't ask. It gets more confusing when you ask."

"Not as confusing as this," she sighed as she turned around to look at the room.

Scott and Isaac then looked to see that the walls of Stiles' room were littered with news articles, photos and different notes. All of them were connected by strings of red yarn that anchored to a weighted hook that rested at the center of his mattress.

"What?" Scott breathed out as he looked at the setup.

Lydia turned to him. "He uses red for unsolved cases."

"Maybe he thinks he's part of an unsolved case," Aiden said.

"Or is an unsolved case," Isaac threw in.

"Guys," Lydia cut in. "He's out there and we don't know where he is."

"I tried calling him but it just goes right to voicemail," Scott told her.

"Try again," she said pointedly to him.

Scott whipped out his phone but before he could make another call, Isaac stopped him. "You have a message," he said pointing to the icon at the top.

Scott tapped it and his jaw dropped a bit. "It's from Stiles!" How could Scott had missed this? He looked at the time stamp on it and realized that Stiles must've tried calling him when he had been incessantly trying to call Deaton earlier.

"Well play it," Lydia almost screamed at him.

They all stood still as they listened to Stiles' voice. "Scott, you have to help me. I…I don't know where I am. My eyes…I can barely see, my eyes are watery. It's dark, smells bad and it's…cold." It sounded like he was whispering. "I…think I'm in some kind of basement. My leg, it's caught on something. A trap. You have to come find me, please," he said almost begging. "But, don't tell my dad. And, I…I think there's someone in here with me." Then it cut off.

"He's in a basement?" Isaac asked them. "How could he have gotten stuck in a basement?"

Lydia shook his head. "He must've been sleepwalking."

"It's the coldest night in the year. It's going to drop in the 20's," Aiden pointed out.

"We have to call his dad," Lydia said to them.

But Scott shook his head. "Stiles told us not to."

"We're here and we can get a better scent and find him," Isaac said backing Scott up.

"He can't have gotten far," Scott also threw in.

"Uh, you guys did notice that his jeep's gone, right?" Aiden told them.

Lydia then took out her phone. "I'm calling his dad."

"Lydia," Scott said trying to stop her. He knew how Stiles felt when it came to worrying his dad about something like this.

But Lydia wasn't quitting. "He asked you not to tell his father, not me."

"Then we'll call Derek and Allison," Scott tried. "We'll call everyone."

"Everyone but the cops. Great idea," Lydia spat back at him.

Aiden stood by her. "You guys do remember that she only gets these feelings when someone's about to die, right? Stiles is human. He's out there in his pajamas, stuck, bleeding and freezing. He won't be able to take the cold or pain like we still can."

Scott let out a small sigh. Aiden was right. Stiles didn't have much time and neither did they. "Alright but, you don't have to call his dad. It's five minutes to the station. He should be back there by now."

Scott and Isaac went to leave with Aiden moving to follow them but Lydia held Aiden back. "We'll catch up."

Scott and Isaac froze. "What, why?"

"There is something here," she said as she looked back over at the setup that Stiles made in his room.

Isaac let his eyes roam at it all again. "Yeah, evidence of total insanity."

Scott let a small heated breath loose. "We can figure out what's wrong with him after we find him and stop him from freezing to death."

"Go, we're right behind you," Lydia told him.

Scott and Isaac then went to leave the house while Lydia and Aiden stayed behind in Stiles' room.

Stiles tried to bend his back so that he could try and reach for the trap but his body felt like a tone of bricks. He could barely lift himself. He pushed to get his hands to the trap but as he tried to sit up, his back suddenly gave out and felt himself lying flat against the freezing floor. Stiles was now weeping as his teeth started to chatter a bit. A few seconds of weeping, he then started to hear a scratching noise. He turned his head over to where it was coming from and could vaguely make out some movement from a dark figure. He then noticed that the breathing he heard from before was back but was even louder and was coming from him.

"Who’s there?" he asked again, even louder. The figure turned over and Stiles could see a white gauze covering his whole head. "Who are you?" The figure opened its mouth and let out a hard hissing breath as it then lowered its gauze covered and dropped something. It began to roll on the ground towards him and Stiles saw that it was a stick of chalk. Stiles then looked back up and saw that the guy was gone but on the wall in front of where he had been was now a marking. A reverse 5 which Stiles had remembered Scott told him all about. "Self," he mumbled, "I don't understand."

The figure then stepped up so that he was in the view of the light that was pouring in from above. It looked like a man whose face and hands were covered in gauze. He was wearing a brown leather jacket with some stitched patches on it. Stiles instincts told him that whatever this was, it wasn't human.

"It's not who are you Stiles. It's who are we?" Stiles narrowed his eyes as he tried to bend down again and go for the trap. This time, he managed to grab it but he couldn't pull the jaws apart and free his leg. "Stiles," the thing spoke out again. "Did you notice yet?"

"What?" he choked out.

"That we stopped shivering." Stiles froze in his attempts to realize that he did stop shivering. "You know why that's a bad sign."

Stiles stopped trying to pull on the trap and let himself rest. "It…it's the body trying to conserve energy. It…it was my fifth grade science report. Hypothermia."

"Our speech is starting to thicken, then comes fatigue. You know the truth don't you? We're going to die before we ever get out of here."

Stiles was starting to tremble a bit but he grit his teeth as he let some of anger keep him still as he glared at this thing's direction. "Stop saying that. Stop saying we," he spat.

"Your friends are not coming. We know that, don't we?" It started to slither back around the corner.

"They're coming!" Stiles cried out. "Scott will come for me."

"No he won't," it's voice dropped a bit. "He never does. We've seen it before, haven't we Stiles?" It stayed silent for a moment to let his words start to hit Stiles as he glared off at him with some fresh tears falling from his eyes. "Scott won't find us. Your friends won't find us. If we want to get out of here, we have to do it ourselves like we always do. We are going to freeze to death down here, unless you get up Stiles."

Stiles let a small whimper escape him before his glare returned. "And how am I supposed to do that? There's a metal trap on my leg!" he roared.

The thing's bandaged head peeked out from around the corner. "Is there?" Stiles shook his head and stared back at the trap. "It was on your right leg before, wasn't it?"

Stiles tried to focus his vision through his watered eyes and saw that the trap was now clamped on his opposite leg. It was bloodied and trapped while his other leg looked untouched. His breathing quickened a bit. "What is this? What are you doing? Who are you?!"

The thing's breathing got louder. "The one trying to save you Stiles. The only one who is…and the only one who can.”

Scott and Isaac met up with Stiles' dad over at the Sheriff's station. He seemed to be struggling very hard to keep it together as he took the boys over to Deputy Jordan Parish to get his help and the other deputies' help. When they got to his desk, Scott could see the Sheriff's hand was shaking a bit.

But, he took some deep breaths and clenched it to steady himself. "If his Jeep's gone then that's where we start," he breathed out as he looked over at Scott. Scott nodded and he then turned to the deputy. "Parish, put an APB out on a blue 1980 CJ5 Jeep." He then looked to another one. "Gordo, I want a list of any kind of industrial basement or sub-level of any building that he could've gotten into while sleepwalking." The man nodded to him. The Sheriff turned to everyone else. "It's the coldest night of the year so if he's out there barefoot and just a T-shirt then he could be hypothermic. So, let's move fast. Let's think fast." The deputies started to move and Stilinski looked to the boys. "You two come with me." He took Scott and Isaac to his office and shut the door behind them. "Okay, is there anything that you need to tell me that I can't tell everyone else out there?"

"Lydia knew he was missing," Scott told him.

The Sheriff remembered that Stiles had told him that Lydia was a banshee though he still didn't quite understand what that meant. "Can she help find him?"

"She's working on it," said Isaac.

"Anything else?" he asked the boys.

"I called Derek and Allison for help," Scott tried to offer.

"Can't you find him by scent?" he pressed.

But they were interrupted by Parish. "Sir, we found it. We found the Jeep."

"Where?" he asked Parish.

Everyone was rushing over to the hospital where Stiles' Jeep had been spotted. They got to it and found that the lights were still on. The Sheriff ran over to it and opened the door to find that it was empty.

He then slammed the door and looked over at Scott. "It's dead. He must've left the lights on."

Scott looked over at the hospital. "Why would he come here?"

"Let's find out," the Sheriff said before he moved in and led his deputies into the hospital.

Scott looked over at Isaac. "Got his scent?"

Isaac nodded. "Yeah."

"Let's go," he said before he pulled Isaac to follow it into the hospital.

As soon as the Sheriff and his men walked through the door, Melissa was running over to them.

"Security is doing sweeps," she said as she came to the Sheriff. "Every floor but nothing yet."

"What about the basement?" he asked her.

"Follow me." She then led them off for the basement level.

Scott and Isaac were running up the service stairs, following after Stiles' scent and saw that it seemed to be leading them for the roof. They ran faster but when they got there all they found was Derek.

"He's not here," Derek told them. "Not anymore."

"In the whole building?" Scott quickly asked.

"Gone," he answered. "Not just him, his scent is gone too."

Scott deflated at the news. He didn't want to imagine the look on the Sheriff's face when he had to tell them that they just hit a dead end.

Isaac spared him the trouble. "I'll go tell Stilinski," he offered.

"See if you can find Allison. She's not answering her phone."

Isaac then left to break the bad news while Scott moved over for Derek.

"Notice how strong the scent is up here?" Derek asked as he took it all in. "You ever hear of chemo signals? Chemical signals that communicate emotion. Just our sweat could give off anger, fear, disgust. Take a deep breath. Tell me what do you feel?"

Scott closed his eyes and sniffed the air that was full of Stiles' scent. As he inhaled it all in, he was starting to feel- "Stress," he said out loud.

"Anxiety," Derek further explained.

"What was he doing up here?"

Derek shook his head. "I don't know. There was definitely some kind of struggle."

"With who?" Who could Stiles had been struggling with up here?

Derek just looked out. "Himself."

Lydia and Aiden were roaming through the room. Lydia was going up and down the walls of pictures and articles in Stiles' set up while Aiden was browsing through his stuff.

As Aiden was looking, he stumbled on a picture of Scott and Stiles in lacrosse gear. From how they looked, he guessed that this photo must've been taken before Scott had been bitten by Peter Hale. The two of them just being goofy, carefree teenagers. It was a little hard to think that one day, one of these boys would become a True Alpha. He then put the picture down and looked over to the side to see that there was a picture frame with a drawing of a tree. "Didn't you draw this?" he asked holding it up for Lydia to see.

Lydia looked over and gave him a look. "Put that back."

"It's yours, right?" he asked her again with a small teasing smile on his face.

"It's one of them," she said.

Aiden then turned it to give it another look. "He likes you a lot."

"Used to," she said moving for him. Allison had told her what Scott once told her about Stiles having liked her. "But he's moved on," she told both him and herself. "Besides, maybe he just likes the drawing."

Aiden went and pointed to a note that Stiles made on the back. "For Lydia," he read aloud teasingly.

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Alright give me that," she said reaching for it. There was a beep from her phone and she went for it to see that Scott sent her a text. "They didn't find anything at the hospital. Derek's going to check at the high school, Isaac went to go find Allison and Scott's with the Sheriff."

"And we're standing in a bedroom staring at the walls," Aiden pointed out.

Lydia went back to try again to make sense of what Stiles had set up here while Aiden kept wandering around. He then went over to one of the nearest strings and just gave it a pluck for the hell of it.

At that moment, Lydia heard what seemed to be voices coming from where he was. "What did you just do?" she asked making Aiden jump a bit. "Did you just touch one of those strings?'

"Maybe," he said like a naughty child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Lydia stared at him for a bit before she reached for the nearest string and gave it a pluck herself. She heard the voices again. "What did that sound like to you?" she asked him.

"Like a string being pulled," he told her.

"You didn't hear people whispering?"

He shook his head. "Definitely did not hear people whispering."

Lydia then bent down and started to press her ear closer to the strings. She ran her hand along them and she could hear the whispers constantly going off until she took her hand away. "You didn't hear that?"

"Lydia, I'm not sure anybody hears what you hear."

Which means that something inside of her was trying to tell her something. Something that had to be related to Stiles and what was going on with him right now. "The whispering. It's something about a house."

"What house?"

She plucked on one of them and it seemed to be pointing to a picture of an institution that Stiles pinned on his wall. "That one."

Aiden went over and read the caption. "What's Eichen House?"

Lydia knew it. "A mental health center. It's where William Barrow, the shrapnel bomber was committed."

Aiden stiffened. He remembered what he had overheard between Scott and Stiles after Halloween. "Is that it?"

She nodded. "It's where he is. That's Stiles is."

Agent McCall walked into the Sheriff's station and saw that it was pretty quiet right now. He noticed that even the Sheriff wasn't in his office. Besides the person at the front desk, he could only find one deputy, Parish.

"Where is everyone?" he asked him. But Parish just kept looking at the screen as if he hadn't spoken. "Did we get a lead on our sword wielding maniac?" he asked hoping that's what this all was about.

"Nope," Parish said to him before looking over to the side. "But don't worry. We've got posters all over town for your guy."

McCall looked over again to see those ridiculous artist renderings that they did of his attacker. One looking like Zorro and the other of an armored samurai. "Not exactly how I described him to the sketch artist," he said spitefully.

Parish just went back to what he was doing without looking at him. He was among the deputies that didn't like the agent being there and was supportive of the Sheriff. "Well, you're not exactly the highest priority of the night Agent McCall."

"What does that mean? What's so high priority?" he asked the deputy.

"It's Stiles, Agent McCall. He's missing."

While McCall admittedly didn't much like either of the Stilinski's he knew that his ex-wife and son cared very much for them both. He went to read the report filed on the search for Stiles and saw what Scott had put down as his testimony for the voicemail that Stiles had left for him. His eyes widened as he read them. They sparked something familiar to him. "Parish," he called out to him as he left the office. "Is this the exact transcript of Stiles' message to Scott?"

"It's what he gave us," he said.

"But these exact words? Stiles actually said that his eyes are watery and where he is smells bad?"

Parish just shrugged his shoulders. But then he started hearing a familiar voice mention his name. He went to the front desk and saw that Melissa was there and she was asking for him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"My shift was over. I just wanted to see if I could help."

He sighed. "Come with me."

Her eyes narrowed. "To where?"

"I think I might know where Stiles is."

Aiden had taken Lydia with him on his bike to Eichen House after she had called Scott and told him that she knew where Stiles was. They had arrived there a little before the Sheriff and Scott had arrived along with a few deputies. They found the pair there waiting by the gate as they stepped out of their cars.

"Lydia," the Sheriff asked as he ran to them. "I don't want to say if you're sure about this but-"

Lydia cut him off. "No, he's here. I swear to god he's here," she said sternly but surely.

The Sheriff let out a small sigh as he looked over at the building. "Okay." He then charged on in and headed for the front desk where the receptionist was a little taken aback at the rush of people charging in. "I need access to all basement rooms in this facility," the Sheriff told him.

As the Sheriff, Scott, Aiden and Lydia were all heading for the basement, Lydia felt something stir within her. The feeling from back in Stiles' room, it was back and it was getting stronger. The more closer they got to the lower level, the stronger it got.

"It's here," she announced when they got to the bottom level. She then looked on ahead and spotted a metal door. "It's right here."

They broke the door in and started to run into the room. It was a dark, basement room like Stiles had mentioned in his message. They quickly looked around, but found nothing. The room was empty. There was no sign that Stiles or anyone had even been here at all.

Scott couldn't even find a trace of Stiles' scent. "Lydia?"

She shook her head. "I don't get it. This has to be it."

The Sheriff's breathing started to increase as he looked at the bare room. "Then where is he? Where is he? Where is he?!" he raged out at her. That made her flinch and step back from him. Both Scott and Aiden eyed him a little uncomfortably and the Sheriff went to calm down. "I'm sorry," he breathed out heavily.

"I was sure," Lydia almost whispered. Aiden went over to her and led her back up the stairs.

Scott and the Sheriff moved to follow after him. None of them noticed that on the wall below the stairs was a kanji for 'self' carved into the wall.

Agent McCall and Melissa were driving off where she told him that they got word that Stiles might be in a basement over in Eichen House. However, he wasn't driving them in that direction. He told her that they were going off for where he really was.

"Wait, what are you saying?" she asked him after he told her that.

"I'm saying that how do we know that he's where he said he was? How do we know that he isn't still asleep?"

"You mean he's been sleeping the whole time."

"Well, people who sleepwalk can do crazy things. I mean, one guy goes down to the kitchen and cooks an entire meal. Another guy is found mowing his lawn, naked."

Melissa scoffed. "What does any of that matter?"

"Remember that time in the apartment we lived in. There was one night where I…came home drunk," he said uncomfortably.

"Oh, one night," Melissa said back to him as she looked at him with accusation in her eyes.

"Let me finish," he breathed out. "So, I'm drunk. Passed out on the bed. I get up to go to the bathroom and suddenly I hear you yelling: What the hell are you doing?"

"Because you were in the closet, peeing into the laundry basket," she said in a bit of amusement.

"Yeah, but I thought it was the bathroom."

"Oh you were drunk off your ass," she said with a mix of amusement and irritation.

"But I was convinced it was the bathroom," he said trying to get back to his point. "So how do we know that Stiles isn't convinced that he's in some kind of basement but isn't actually there? When he called Scott, he might've still been asleep."

"And how do you know where he really is?" she asked.

He looked over to her. "Because I've been there before."

Stiles tried to focus to get a better look at whoever or whatever was in the room with him. It was back to facing the wall in the spot that he had drawn Self which was back. Stiles had been silent with it for a while now but he was noticing that he was barely able to feel anything at all now. His feet were completely numb and he could barely move his legs. He knew that meant that his time was almost up.

"How?" he finally spoke out. "How can you help me?"

"Let me in," it whispered.

"What?"

"Let me in…before we freeze to death."

Stiles didn't understand what it was talking about. "Why? Why do you keep saying we?"

"You still don't understand, do you?" the thing asked him as he kept staring at the wall. "It's a riddle. You know any riddles Stiles?"

"A few," he coughed out.

"What gets bigger the more you take away?" the thing asked.

"A hole," answered Stiles.

"What gets wetter the more it dries?" it again asked.

"A t-towel," answered Stiles.

"When is a door not a door?" it asked as it raised its gauzed hand towards him.

"When it’s ajar," he gasped, "Who are you?" Stiles choked out.

"Everyone has it but no one can lose it." It brushed its hand over the symbol on the wall.

"What?"

"You want to know, who I am?" It turned towards Stiles and started to prowl its way over to him. "Everyone has it but no one can lose it," it repeated. "What is it Stiles?"

"I…I don't know," he said as he wiped away another tear gathering in his eye.

"Everyone has it," it said, slumping closer to him.

"I don't know," he said to him. But the thing thrust itself at his face. It shouted at him. Roared into his face and its silver colored fangs were shining in the darkness. Stiles started crying more heavily as he turned away. The thing only got angrier and went over to Stiles' leg and grabbed at the chain attached to the trap clamping on it. It started to pull him away and Stiles was being dragged off. "No! No!" he cried as tried to turn and claw at the floor. He thrashed about trying to not be carried away. "No!"

The next moment Stiles found himself in someone's grip but he kept fighting to be free. After a few seconds, he realized that this person was repeating his name and was hugging him.

"Stiles!" Stiles then realized that he was in the embrace of Scott's mother. "It's okay. You're alright Stiles."

Stiles started to calm down and looked over at Melissa's face and saw that she was with Scott's father. Melissa was holding him tighter as Agent McCall took off his jacket to put it on him. He wasn't in a basement anymore either, but out in the woods. Right outside Malia's coyote den.

“M-my leg...My leg. My l-leg.” Stiles gritted at the pain, his leg really was in a trap.

Allison was peacefully sleeping in her bed, was, until there was hard knocking over at her door. She wiped at her eyes before she got up and went over to the door to find that it was Isaac.

"What the hell have you been doing?" he asked the moment it was open.

"Sleeping," she said shortly at him. "What the hell are you doing?"

Isaac's face fell a bit. "You didn't get any calls or texts?"

At that, Allison went on for her room with Isaac following after her. She went off and grabbed her phone. "My phone's off. I never turn my phone off." She quickly turned it on and suddenly found a whole lot of missed calls and texts from Scott's phone. She opened the latest one. One that was about Stiles. "Sleepwalking? Is he okay?"

"No, they found him a few minutes ago. They're bringing him to the hospital. His leg was caught in on of those traps." Isaac then looked off to listen in case her father heard them and got up but he found that there was no sound of another heartbeat which meant that he wasn't here.

But Allison kept her attention on her phone. "I don't know how this happened. I never turn my phone off," she said scrolling through all the texts she had gotten. But, she suddenly found a voicemail message from an unknown caller. Not just one though. There were near a dozen of them. She played the first one and started to hear a man speaking a foreign language. To Allison, it sounded like it was Japanese. But the man didn't sound like he was trying to talk to Allison. It sounded like he was reading her something.

Isaac was listening to it to. "What is that?"

Aiden was outside the hospital with Derek helping to jumpstart Stiles' jeep while everyone else was inside. Derek had brought his van over and was getting his jumper cables.

"Do you think he was just sleepwalking or was there something more to it?" Aiden asked Derek as he was hooking the cables over to his car.

"In this town, there's always something more."

Aiden nodded as he went to put his hands into his pockets. "What if I told you that I know something more?" Derek turned to face him. "I kind of overheard…well I listened in on Stiles talking with Scott a few days ago. How he thinks that he was the one that he left the message in the chemistry classroom. The one telling Barrow to kill Kira. And, that he might've been the one to cause the pile-up on Halloween."

"Really?" Derek mumbled.

"Yeah," Aiden said with his expression unmoved. "Then I thought…how all of us, every werewolf and even Lydia were attacked by the Oni, but Stiles wasn't."

Derek let a small smirk find its way onto his face. "You really think that Stiles…Skinny, defenseless Stiles, is the nogitsune? A powerful, dark spirit."

Aiden just kept staring at Derek resolutely. "I'm not the only one thinking it, I'm just the only one saying it."

"Stiles may be resourceful and smart but he's not as impressive without his," Derek then froze. "Power," he finished before he looked down at the jumper cables he was holding and brought them together to create some sparks. And like that, something else sparked in his mind.

Scott and Lydia were sitting out in the waiting area with his mother and father when the four of them noticed Sheriff Stilinski finally coming out of the room and he walked towards them.

"He's sleeping now. The trap fractured the bones but it mainly tore up the skin and muscles," he grunted out. Scott and Lydia sighed with relief. "He doesn't remember much. It's all been like a nightmare to him." He then looked over at McCall. "Thank you."

Scott looked over at his father as well. While he had his problems with him, he was able to find and save his best friend when he couldn't. "How did you know where he really was?"

"From the message that you said Stiles left on your phone," he started to explain. "How he said that his eyes were watery. That same thing happened to me in the coyote den. It was the repellent. They sprayed it in order to keep other animals out. I couldn't go near it without my eyes watering too. It was just a good thing that he mentioned it over the phone. That and the comment about his…leg."

"It was more than that," the Sheriff said to him, powering through the agent’s last remark.

"It was a lucky connection," McCall said nonchalantly.

"McCall, could you shut up please," the Sheriff cut in. "And accept my sincerest gratitude?"

Agent McCall gave him a small look before he held his good hand out to him. "Accepted."

The Sheriff returned his hand with his own and they shook.

Melissa looked over to her son and Lydia. "Alright, you two have school in less than six hours. Go home and try and get some sleep."

"Okay," Scott said as he leaned in for a hug. He doubted he would be able to get much sleep after all this though.

Lydia moved to follow after him. "I don't know what happened," she whispered to him. "I was so sure."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't much help either," Scott muttered. "But, it doesn't matter. He's going to be okay." Just then, Lydia turned around and started looking about. Scott knew that reaction. "Lydia, do you hear something?"

Lydia was hearing something. It was a loud and repetitive banging sound. It sounded almost like metal hitting metal. But it soon ended and Lydia shook her head. "No," she told him. Her hearing of things had caused enough trouble for one night. "I don't hear anything."

Scott heard Lydia's heart. She was lying but it was clear that she was still angry at herself for their trip to Eichen House. He just walked with her as they left the hospital.

Stiles started shifting around in his bed and slowly opened his eyes to see that his father was sitting off in a chair on the other side of the room, his head wobbling a bit with his eyes closed.

"Dad?" he called out.

The Sheriff straightened up in his chair and saw that Stiles was rubbing at his eyes. "Hey, how you feeling?"

"Okay, I guess." Stiles took a deep breath from his nose and realized that he was being medicated.

His dad gave him a small smile as he saw Stiles stare pointedly at his IV line. "Do you remember what happened?” Stiles shook his head, “You were sleepwalking again, but you went out into the woods. Stiles, you—“ John struggled with his words, “You stepped on a bear trap while you were sleepwalking. The McCalls found you in the wolf den.”

Stiles tried to sit up but he felt as if he was heavier than before and his throat was feeling a bit dry. "I don’t, I don’t remember anyone this." he said as he struggled with his muddled thoughts from the drugs. He let out a few dry coughs.

"Right, you haven't drank or eaten anything since yesterday afternoon. Just a sec," his dad said before leaving the room.

A moment later, he came back with a cup of water and Melissa was trailing behind him with a clip board.

"You feeling better Stiles?" she asked as his father gave him the water.

"Peachy," he grunted before he went to take a sip of his water.

Melissa readied her clipboard. "Okay, Stiles do you remember anything about last night? About getting up and going to that cave?"

Stiles narrowed his eyes and shook his head. "No. Uh, the last thing I remember…I was in my room. I was getting ready for bed and…the next thing I knew, I was in that basement. Or, I thought I was in a basement."

"You were sleepwalking. Has that been happening to you lately other than last night?" she asked him.

Stiles seemed hesitant to answer the question, given that his father was sitting in the room with him.

The Sheriff saw his son's look. "Stiles, please. We have to know what's going on with you, so please, tell Melissa everything."

Stiles closed his eyes and sighed to himself. He nodded before he opened his eyes. "A few times. Sometimes at night, other times during the day. I would just, end up somewhere and not remember how I got there or what I did."

Melissa made a note of that. "Are you still having nightmares?"

Stiles shrugged. "A few here and there but, I'm not really able to remember much of them now."

She nodded. "Any signs of irrational or erratic behavior?"

"Yeah," he mumbled. "Possibly to the point of homicide."

That made both Melissa and the Sheriff's eyebrows raise a bit.

"Having trouble focusing?" she then asked.

"Yeah, I went back to my Adderall but it's not working like it used to."

"Any idea why?"

"No idea, though it might have something to do with being a surrogate sacrifice to a mystical tree."

She nodded. "I vaguely remember that," she said sharing a small smile with the Sheriff.

Stiles let out a soft yawn. "Yeah."

Melissa's face softened at that. "Uh, how much have you've been sleeping?"

Stiles shrugged. "About eight hours."

"A day?" she asked.

"A week," he said.

"What?" his father said making him look off towards the window.

In the sunlight, Melissa noticed how Stiles' skin tone had gotten paler and he seemed a bit thinner too. "Have you've been eating okay?"

"Yeah, though not as much as I used to. I haven't really had much of an appetite."

"Any other things that have been bothering you?"

"Well, I've gotten quite a few headaches, here and there. It just happens out of nowhere. Sometimes it lasts for a few seconds, other times…it gets so bad that I try to take some medicine to try and make it stop."

"Can I talk to you for a second?" Melissa led the Sheriff out into the hallway. "I know this is a tough time for the both of you but there's something I feel I should tell you." She looked down at all of the factors and symptoms she dotted down. "All of this, I've seen this before and…I think you should know-"

The Sheriff cut her off. "You can stop right there. I, already know." He then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small notepad. He opened it and revealed a list written down with symptoms. "You're not the only one that's been making a list. I've been noticing a few things here and there. Stiles, he's been trying to hide it."

"So, you already know what this might mean?" she asked hesitantly.

He closed his eyes and then nodded. "Claudia." He sighed and then opened his eyes. "I think we have to run some tests."

"I'll…make the arrangements."

"Thank you," he said to her softly.

They then looked over through the door's window to see Stiles rubbing a bit at his forehead.

Scott was barely aware of anything going on around him at school. All he could think about was Stiles. Of all the times that Stiles had been in trouble, from when he had been kidnapped by Gerard to when he and their parents were nearly killed in the root cellar, he had managed to pull through. This time though, sleepwalking to the middle of the woods, stepping on a bear trap, he had nearly died and would have if his mom and dad hadn't found him when they did. He had nearly lost his best friend. Stiles had tried to contact him but he didn't answer his call and while Stiles had still asked him to find and help him, he had failed him. After gym, he went and sent a text to Deaton asking if he had anything new to help them with what was going on in the town but he responded that he had nothing yet.

Kira had been trying to get a hold of Scott all day. She had heard about what had happened to his friend Stiles and wanted to see how he was doing. She finally found him coming out of the locker room. "Scott!" she called out to him. But Scott didn't seem to hear her. He just kept walking off like he was in another world.

"He's a little preoccupied." Kira turned over and saw Derek Hale moving for her. "But I could help you."

"Why would you want to help me?" she asked him.

"Because, I want you to tell me everything that happened at the power station with William Barrow. Actually, I want you to show me."

Isaac and Allison were over in the history classroom showing Mr. Yukimura the voicemail that Allison was given over her phone. They hoped he might be able to translate and make sense of it for them. He listened to it calmly but Allison could tell from the look in his eyes that he understood what it was.

"You're right," he told them. "It's Japanese. Who left this on your phone?"

Allison shook her head. "I don't know. All the messages are the same and they all say Blocked ID."

"Can you translate it?" Isaac asked him.

"Mostly. The man speaking is giving instructions actually. The first line is: All evacuees are required to stay at least ten feet back from outside fences."

Isaac and Allison shared a confused look.

"What does that mean? What fences?" Isaac asked.

"The fences around the Japanese Internment Camp during World War II," Mr. Yukimura explained. "After Pearl Harbor, Japanese-Americans were rounded up and put into camps. This man is reading instructions to prisoners upon their arrival." He then handed Allison her phone back.

"But where does something like this even come from?" she asked.

"I have no idea, because it's fake." That made Allison and Isaac narrow their eyes. "It mentions the name of the internment camp as Oak Creek. There was no internment camp named Oak Creek in California."

Derek was being led by Kira through the empty power station as she was taking them towards where Barrow had her though Kira was still lost a bit on why. They finally made it to some generators behind steel cages.

"It was around here I think," Kira said as she looked around. "But everything kind of looks the same now." The last time, she hadn't exactly been eager to take the place in.

Derek then held his hand up and stopped them. "Hold on," he mumbled.

He was picking up a familiar scent. It was Stiles' scent. The two of them then noticed a streak in the middle of the floor. It moved off like a trail and led to an open cage where they saw something was stuck on one of the generators.

Kira's eyes narrowed at it. "What is that? Is that a baseball bat?"

It was. And one that Derek had seen before. "It's Stiles' bat," he told her. He moved over and tried to take it off the wall to see that it was stuck, tight. He put a little more strength into it and then managed to pull it off. He realized what had happened. "It's magnetized." Derek then noticed the scratches at the end of it and looked back at the streak on the floor. He put down at the edge and slowly ran it along the path of the streak and when it got to the end, it flew right back and got stuck to the generator. Derek's eyes widened as he stared at it and he then looked back at the equally stunned girl. "Kira, I need you to tell me everything you know about fox fire."

Lydia was standing with Scott but her mind seemed to be miles away. Every sound around her seemed to vibrate in her ear and be amplified. She actually flinched when someone closed their locker right next to them.

"You okay?" Scott asked her.

"Uh, yeah. Just a little hyper sensitive to loud sounds today." She then flinched when another locker shut closed across from them.

"My mom sent me a text a while ago. They're doing tests on Stiles all afternoon. I was going to go there around 6 to visit, you want to come with me?" he offered.

Lydia just looked down at the floor. "I should probably just go home." She almost jumped when another locker shut but this time, further down the hall.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Scott asked. He couldn't have another one of his friends suffering under his watch.

She just looked at him. "Yeah. I'll text you later." She then went off leaving Scott looking after her as she moved down the hall. As Lydia walked, it soon stopped being loud sounds she was reacting to. It became any sound nearby. Pounding sounds…and they seemed to be pounding in a rhythm.

Scott was moving through the hospital hallways and quickly spotted his mother and Stiles' father standing off to the side, talking. He noticed that neither one of them were dressed in their work clothes and they had mirrored glum looks on their faces.

"Hey," he called out to them. "Are the tests finished?"

His mother turned to him with her arms folded over her chest. "Uh, no sweetie, they still need to do one more. It's scheduled for tonight."

"Oh. Uh, can I talk to him?" he asked.

"No. He's taking a small rest now honey."

Scott let out a small sigh. "Do we know what's wrong yet?"

His mother looked back at the door where they could spot Stiles sleeping in his hospital bed through the door's window. "He has quite a few symptoms. Some that don't match up. We think that after tonight's test, we'll know for sure what is wrong with him."

"What test is there left for him to take then?" he asked her.

Melissa looked at Scott with an uncomfortable and slightly pained look. "They…he's going to be given an MRI."

Scott's eyes narrowed in confusion. "A brain scan? Why?"

She then looked over and caught the Sheriff's eyes. He let out a tired sigh before he straightened himself up. "They're going to see if he might have Frontal Temporal Dementia. It's…what his mother had."

Scott's face fell as he just stared blankly at him. He had known that Stiles' mother had been sick and died in the hospital but he never knew how and from what. "What's that?"

It was his mother who answered him. "It's a condition where the brain starts to deteriorate. Parts of it began to shrink and erode over time. It could cause a few mental afflictions and Stiles has been having some. Intense headaches, lapses of memory, insomnia, irritable and impulsive behavior as well as hallucinations are among them. It's the only form of dementia that can hit teenagers. And…there's no cure," she finished looking down to study her feet.

Scott started shaking his head. "No, that can't be. You said that this happens over time. Stiles is healthy as ever. He hasn't had any problems until-" But Scott froze right there.

"After that night," the Sheriff finished for him. When Stiles had become human again.

Melissa went to wipe a tear threatening to fall from her eye. "We did some blood work and it looks like Stiles' immune system is weaker than it should be. All of this, and especially last night, it's really been taxing on him honey. The other doctors can't make sense of it but I think all of us here can.”

Scott began to walk off to try and make sense of all the thoughts and feelings bouncing through his skull. Stiles had been suffering through all those waking dreams and hallucinations where he was having breakdowns. Then he was starting to lose sleep and begin thinking awful things about himself. And despite all of that, Stiles still kept on working hard to help him regain his control and working to save Malia and Kira. But Scott just waved off what Stiles was going through as just being a little sleep deprived. Now, his friend was at the stage where he was nearly frozen to death or bled to death and that he might very well have a terminal disease. More than ever, he wanted to go and talk to Stiles. The last thing he had ever said to his friend besides updating him on what happened at his house, was that he should go home and get some sleep. Just dismissing him. Scott couldn't have that. He wouldn't have that. He had to do something…and he could. There was one thing he could do for him, even though it was the last thing he wanted to happen to Stiles, again.

Derek stopped the van at Beacon Hills Memorial and he and Kira went to get out. But, only he was moving in for the hospital while Kira was lingering behind.

"I don't know if I should go in," she told him.

"Why not?" Derek asked.

"Because, well…you're going to tell Scott that Barrow might've used fox fire, created by me, to jumpstart the nogitsune's power inside Stiles."

"Yeah," he said as if he didn't see the problem.

"Basically, that I helped a dark spirit take control of his best friend."

Now Derek seemed to see the problem. "You should probably wait here."

Derek then left while Kira settled down and prepared to wait. He moved through the halls of the hospital and moved for the waiting area for the floor where he knew Stiles was. He quickly spotted Scott sitting there, alone, with his head bowed down as he examined the floor. Derek could smell the despair oozing out of him. He walked on over to him and Scott raised his head to look at him.

"Hey," he said glumly to him.

"Hey," Derek said back. "Are the tests finished?"

Scott shook his head. "No, they're about to run one more. They're…they're giving Stiles an MRI."

Derek's eyes widened. That kind of test wasn't given out lightly. "Why, what's wrong?"

Stiles was slowly walking inside the MRI room in a hospital smock, mindful of his injured leg, with Melissa's hand over his shoulder as she helped him inside.

"Melissa, really, I'm fine," he mumbled tirelessly to her.

She nodded. "I know. This is actually more for me than you."

Stiles let a small but sad smile loose and his hand that moved to Melissa's other hand and gave it a small squeeze which she returned with a sad smile of her own. As he sat at the edge of the machine, his father was standing off with the doctor going over the paperwork. The doctor was squinting as he read Stiles' name.

"How do you even pronounce that?" he asked.

The Sheriff sighed. They were used to people asking that question when it came to Stiles' name. "Just call him Stiles."

The doctor nodded. "Sign here," he said as he gave the clipboard over to him before turning to Stiles who was already moving to lay down as he still felt a little tired from his chemically-induced nap. "Okay, Stiles, during the test there's going to be a loud sound throughout the test. I can give you some earplugs if you like?"

Stiles shook his head from where it was laying. "It's fine. I'm used to tuning out sounds."

The Sheriff and Melissa shared a look as they understood the double meaning behind that.

The Sheriff went and grasped his hand. "We'll be just outside. Okay?"

Stiles returned the grip. "Okay."

The Sheriff and Melissa walked out with the doctor and began looking on in from the console room behind the glass. Stiles was still calmly laying on the slap as it was being wheeled into the machine. The light inside was kind of bright and he was squinting his eyes a bit.

"Okay Stiles," he heard the doctor speaking through the intercom. "This is going to take about 45 minutes to an hour. Just remember, try not to move." Stiles had been trying to get comfortable but stopped after that. He went to adjust his head. "Even just a little bit." Stiles stopped moving entirely. The doctor then started the machine up. "Okay, Stiles you're going to be hearing that noise now. It's going to be a loud clang. Kind of like a hammer hitting an anvil."

A moment later, Stiles started hearing that clanging sound. He tried to relax as he let the machine do his work.

On the other side of the glass, the people there were anything but relaxed. The machine began to slowly bring up a digital mapping of Stiles' brain. The doctor lowered his gaze when he looked at it and the Sheriff quickly noticed. He looked at it and couldn't help but feel a disturbing sense of dejavu.

After a moment, the doctor regained himself. "You see this," he said as he pointed to a section of the brain that was highlighted. "This tissue here and there…both those spots are showing signs of atrophy."

The Sheriff let out a hard breath as he kept his eyes on it. "Atrophy," he muttered.

He then shared a look with Melissa and knew that she was thinking the same thing. Stiles was terminally sick after all. And there was no hope for him to get better.

Inside the MRI, Stiles' eyes started to water. Even though the clanging sound was still going loud and strong, he could hear the word echo in his head. Atrophy, and it was sounding out in his dad's broken voice. As it echoed, he felt the banging pressure against his skull just like before along with some ringing. He couldn't move so he shut his eyes to try and push the pain away. He shut them as hard as he could as the pounding got harder and the ringing got louder until it all just stopped. He then opened his eyes to find that he wasn't laying in the machine but was standing up. Everything around him seemed darker all of a sudden. He then saw some movement at the corner of his eye and turned to just catch a shape moving around the MRI.

"Have you figured out my riddle yet?" Stiles knew that voice. The thing was back again. "Answer correctly…we might consider letting them go."

Stiles shook his head. "Let who go?"

It turned over to look at the window. "Your friends…your family." Stiles then turned to look and see his father standing with Melissa. "We're going to destroy all of them Stiles," it said a little joyously. "Everyone, one by one."

"Why?" Stiles cried.

It started to tear the bandages off its face. "Everyone has it but no one can lose it! What is it?!"

"I don't know," Stiles mumbled as he increased the pressure on his head.

"Everyone has it, but no one can lose it!"

"I don't know!" Stiles shouted.

The bandages fell completely off. "What is it Stiles?"

Stiles' eyes opened as he realized that the voice was familiar. He heard it every time he opened his mouth. His eyes fell upon the darkness in front of him being cast by the light behind him. The same darkness that he remembered that it's hand sprout out of before. He realized the answer to all of his questions. "A shadow," he whispered.

He then turned around as the thing straightened up. It was him. He stared back at his own face staring back at him with a gleeful smirk on him. It was the face of a strong, confident and darker version of himself. Stiles felt all of his own strength and resolve melt away at the sight.

Stiles' eyes then opened to find himself back in the MRI. Shifting his body around, as if trying to get comfortable in his own skin. This was because the one seeing through them wasn't Stiles. It was the nogitsune who lived over 1,000 years of time and had gone through countless names. But, he would now be called what he truly was. Void. He was Void. He took in everything and saw that he now had full reign of this body now. There was no diverting of his strength and power for quelling the resistance of a determined teenage boy. The boy was broken and sealed away playing his own game, so that he could never interfere. He then let his power extend to start the beginning of his next trick.

The lights in the MRI room and console room began to flicker before they went out. It happened for a moment before they all came back on.

"What was that?" Melissa asked as she looked around.

"It looked like a power surge," the doctor said as he looked equally as confused.

But the Sheriff stiffened as he looked back into the room. "Where's my son?"

The other two looked into the room also and saw that Stiles was now gone.

Derek and Scott stood on the hospital roof together. They were talking about Stiles and what he was doing up there on the night before. Scott then froze for a moment as something suddenly hit him. He then stood up quickly making Derek narrow his eyes. "He was trying to protect us," Scott realized aloud. "Stiles, he was protecting us."

"From himself. He was trying to warn us." Derek realized that Stiles must've been trying to put everything he had into his struggle. Both to try and fight against the nogitsune, and the distress sent out the chemo signals strong enough that they would sense it long after he left. They both ran up to the roof where they had felt the chemo signals from him. "What exactly are we looking for?" Derek asked as they moved about on the roof.

"I don't know. But, I don't think Stiles was just struggling with himself. I think he was struggling not to do something."

Scott looked around when he noticed that there were some crates set up next to the cage around the generator. Like a kind of stool. Scott moved to stand on it and was able to reach the top. He moved his hand around to see if there was anything there and felt something. He pulled on it and revealed it to be a bag full of tools and equipment. Scott and Derek then looked around until they noticed the tampered wire. One that was already sparking. Scott quickly jumped away and the two of them tried to move to warn the hospital but they only got a few feet away before the sparks started shooting out and the generator began to blow.

The lights inside the hospital were now dead and only the emergency ones were now on. People were in a panic as they ran off to try and make sense of the chaos. The only one in the whole building that was calm was Void as he got accustomed to having complete control of his new vessel without any sign of resistance whatsoever. He was calmly putting on the clothes that the Sheriff had brought over for his son and had finished tying his shoes before he went off to enjoy the chaos that he had wrought. He was limping towards the elevator when the doors of it opened. He stopped when he saw that there was a woman standing there, staring at him just as calmly as he was staring back at her. One that both he and his host recognized. Mrs. Yukimura. Void started to move closer to her with a dark look on his face.

"You know me?" she asked. Void nodded. "Then you remember that I won't be deterred by your choice of host, even if it is an innocent boy."

Void let a smirk slide onto his face. "Are you threatening us?"

At that moment, two Oni materialized at either side of her and Void's eyes widened, but his expression was still one of amusement.

"Now I'm threatening you," she told him.

Void nodded his head down and began to chuckle as he stared down at the ground. "Oh, then let us warn you," he said before he raised his head back up. His smirk had widened and his dark eyes seemed to shine in the low lighting. He then quickly raised both of his hands up and two purple sparks flew out and for the Oni. Mrs. Yukimura ducked her head as the Oni were hit and let out deep clicking hiss sounds as they were struck before they vanished in puffs of black smoke. She then looked down to find two fireflies at either side of her. Their lights flickered a few times before they died out and they vanished. "This choice of host isn't a shield. He is a sword and it will cut deeper than yours ever could. Your little fireflies won't help you stop us."

Mrs. Yukimura let a shocked but angry look appear on her face just before the nogitsune turned away to leave in a different route. "If the Oni won't stop you, I know someone who can," she cried at him.

Void stopped and looked over at her. His smirk deepened. Then, he kept staggering away.

On the roof, Scott and Derek kept watching as the generator kept firing sparks all over the place before the cut wire finally severed itself fully. It began to fly off and out of control while shooting sparks at its end. Down below, the people were starting to run in a panic. One of them was Kira, who was standing still and watching in horror as the wire went flying for her direction.

—— time and scene skip

Stiles was driving them feverishly through the rain as fast as he could. Kira asked if they were heading for Scott's house since it had helped keep the Oni out, or for Stiles' house since he had told her that it was rigged just like his but he told her that both were too far and were heading somewhere closer. His job.

"The animal clinic?" Kira asked him incredulously.

"Yeah, it's lined with mountain ash, just like my home."

Stiles' eyes narrowed. "Yeah, but won't they eventually break through it?" he asked remembering what Scott had told him about the night at his house.

He nodded. "Yeah, eventually."

"You don't have any better ideas?" Scott turned and just looked at him with that same emotionless look he always gave. Stiles shrugged. "Okay sure, animal clinic."

Stiles quickly drove them to the entrance of the animal clinic and the three of them quickly moved to get out of the jeep and stumbled for the doors. Before Scott could move to get the doors open, he heard a disturbingly familiar sound. He turned and saw the Oni materialize behind them.

"Stiles! Get inside!" Scott shouted as he threw his friend the keys.

Scott then quickly shifted to try and buy them time to get in. Stiles got the door open but Kira moved away and ran for a pile of animal carrier cages left by the door.

"Kira! Get inside!" Stiles tried to shout to her.

But Kira began taking the cages and throwing them at the Oni to try and help Scott hold them off. The Oni hardly flinched as they got hit. Scott was trying to fight one but it kept dodging each swipe of his claws that he threw at it. One of the Oni stomped over for Kira. She was frozen for a moment but when the Oni went to strike at her, she caught its hand. She then went and flipped him over to the ground. Scott pushed at the Oni and managed to then get a shot in and knock it down. He then looked up in time for Kira to pick up a pipe to block a strike from one of the Oni's swords and then strike it up at his head making it fly off its feet. Kira seemed in shock at her own action as she stared at the pipe before she went and struck again at the Oni before it could get back up. Scott was so stunned by seeing her fight like that that he didn't notice one of them going for him until just before it stuck its sword cleanly into his stomach. Kira screamed out Scott's name in horror before she went over and sent a hard kick to knock the Oni away from him.

Stiles had been watching all of it by the door and then staggered over to Scott at the same time as Kira.

"Get him inside," he told her as they carried Scott into the clinic.

They moved inside and Stiles quickly shut the door closed. Scott was helped inside the operating room where they moved him to lean against the operating table.

Kira looked over at the sword still stuck inside him. "Oh my god. Are you okay?"

Scott didn't answer. He just moved to try and pull the sword out but it was stuck in too tightly and him pulling was just too painful.

"We should take care of that," Stiles panted out.

Kira looked over at Stiles and back to Scott. "He's right."

Scott shared a look with Kira as he silently asked her to pull it out for him. Kira nodded. She moved her shaking hands to the hilt and then prepared to pull it out for him, when her wrist was grabbed. Stiles took Kira's wrist and then began to squeeze and twist it.

"Maybe you didn't understand," Stiles grumbled under his breath. "We should take care of that," he said before putting more pressure on her wrist.

"Stiles," she cried out painfully.

Kira gasped as Stiles went and grabbed the back of her head and slammed it into the table. Scott watched in horror as Kira fell to the floor and lay motionless. He then looked up at Stiles who was also staring at Kira's body and then slowly looked up at him. The look in his eyes was nothing like he had seen from his friend before, even at his angriest. They didn't have the slightest bit of emotion in them. They were blank, hollow…void.

Stiles then limped over until he was right in front of the sword and gave it a look. He then twiddled his fingers over the hilt before looking back at him. "You okay?" he asked as if he hadn't just attacked Kira in front of him.

Scott shook his head. "Please, don't. Stop," he said, desperately trying to get through to his friend.

"Shh," Stiles said holding his hand up. "It's okay," he said to Scott softly. He then went and took hold of the sword. He gave Scott a nod and then went and twisted it. Scott then began screaming as Stiles went and pushed on the blade and twisted it further making Scott's screams even louder. "Oh, does it hurt? Oh, I know all too well Scott. Believe me." Stiles then went and grabbed Scott by the shoulder making Scott look at him with his eyes squinted. Stiles' face then became amused. "What's wrong Scott? Hard to tell through the pain but I daresay you look confused."

"It can't be…you can't be," Scott whispered with his eyes starting to water.

Stiles grinned and tilted his head at him. "Can't what? Can't be...not me? Us?" He then let his teeth show in a twisted smile that was foreign on Stiles face. He then went and twisted the sword again to send a fresh wave of pain his way and made the red of his eyes flicker out. "Why?" he said spitting up some blood. "Why are you doing all of this?"

"Why?" Stiles scoffed at him. "You should've done your reading Scott. A Nogitsune feeds on Chaos, Strife and Pain. You went and took it from Isaac, and from Coach, and from a dying deputy. You took their pain. All of it." The hand that was holding his jaw went to the side of Scott's head. "Now, give it ALL to ME!" Scott then felt as all the pain was getting pulled out of him. However, unlike the times that Stiles had pulled pain from him before, where he would feel relief, he began to feel as if he was reliving the pain all over again. Stiles' eyes rolled back as the pain flooded into him and brought him nothing but ecstasy. When he stopped they were both panting a bit, Scott feeling weaker and Stiles feeling stronger. "Thanks," Stiles panted happily before lowering his hand from Scott. Then, dark purple colored sparks began to flare in his fingertips and some went off and sent shocks and jolts into Scott who could barely move with Stiles' other hand still gripping the sword. "You've got to learn Scott. You've got to learn to never, ever trust a fox." He shook his head as he chuckled at him. "Because they're tricksters. They fool you. We fool everyone," he said leaning in with a dark look on his face.

"Not everyone," a voice said softly behind him.

Stiles looked back just before a needle went into his neck. Deaton glared as he injected what was in the syringe into him. Stiles gasped in pain and the sparks in his hand flew up and hit the roof making the room be lit for a moment as the sparks rained down a bit. He grabbed at Deaton's hand to try and pull the syringe out but his strength gave out and he slowly fell to his knees before he fell to the floor. Luckily landing on his uninjured leg.

Scott looked down at Stiles and let his red eyes loose. He saw the aura of the nogitsune, the fox move like it was in pain before it fizzled out. He was so distracted by what he was seeing that he didn't see Deaton reach for the hilt of the sword and looked away only when Deaton pulled it out and Scott felt a moment of pain before he breathed easier now that the thing was out of him.

"Is that it?" Scott gasped as he tried to get his breathing under control. "Was that a cure? Is he okay?" he asked desperately.

But Deaton shook his head. "The fox is poisoned. But, it's not dead." He then looked over at Stiles' still body. "Not yet."

—— time skip

Stiles and his father were in his car, neither one of them was speaking. The truth was that neither of them really knew what to say. Stiles had gone over everything that had happened over the time from when he had gone missing from the hospital with him and filled in the blanks about the recent terrible things that happened in town. The first thing they talked about was finding some way to not let the nogitsune keep using Stiles to do more horrible things. That and to find a way to protect him from getting attacked by the Oni who were still after him.

According to Deaton, this was the best course of action that could both protect Stiles and protect others from him. The van pulled to a full stop right in front of the gates into Eichen House. They didn't get out of the car right away. They both just gave the place a timely look before they went to share a look. They had to do this now, before either one of them changed their minds. They then pulled themselves out of the car and gave the building another good look. They were going to start moving in but the sound of a motorbike stopped them.

Scott quickly hopped off his bike and pulled off his helmet as he walked over to them. "Why didn't you tell me?" he said to them.

"Because we wanted to avoid something like this," answered the Sheriff.

Stiles shrugged his shoulders. "It's only for 72 hours," Stiles muttered. Though he silently thought it should be a lot longer.

Scott shook his head. "This is where Barrow came from. The guy who had a tumor inside of him full of flies." He looked at his friend's dad. "You don't know everything yet."

"I know enough. Nogitsunes, Kitsunes, Oni or whatever they're called."

Stiles bobbed his head. "No, that's all actually surprisingly correct."

His dad wasn't finished. "Scott, I saw an MRI that looked almost exactly like my wife's…and it terrifies me. I'm heading down to LA tomorrow to talk to a specialist."

"But why are you putting him in here?" Scott asked him.

"He's not," Stiles said. "It was my decision."

"Stiles, I can't help you if you're in here."

"Yeah and I can't hurt you," Stiles argued. "Look Scott, you don't understand. I…broke. I let, that thing in and people got hurt. People…died. And, with how I am," he tried very hard to not notice his father's scared face. "It can get in again."

"Please Stiles, Deaton, he's got some ideas. Argent is calling people," Scott said trying to not let his best friend do this. "We'll find something. And, if we can't-" Scott stopped right there. He knew that there was something that he could do. One thing that could help Stiles get passed his terminal illness.

But Stiles' eyes narrowed. He knew what Scott had in mind. But he also saw the fear and hesitation in his eyes so he went and leaned in. "If you can't then you do something for me…make sure that I never get out," he finished resolutely.

Stiles then pulled away and looked to his father so that they could move on inside. Scott just stood there, watching as Stiles just resigned himself to being locked up in a place like Eichen House without putting up any kind of fight. He kept his eye on him all the way up to when he walked in through the front door. He then went to his bike and moved to head on for Deaton's to keep looking for something to save his friend.

Stiles and his father slowly walked on through the lobby of the institution. Stiles saw that there were some people around in smocks, some of them seemed to be in a few fugue states or quiet in a corner. Stiles didn't know if it was because of the nogitsune, but this place felt...off. Cold, even though it was pretty warm. It made him get goosebumps.

"Mr. Stilinski," a voice called out, nearly making him jump. It was a doctor. "This way please," she said to them with a small calming smile that clashed with the atmosphere of this place. The two Stilinski men followed (Stiles at a slower pace due to his leg) after the nurse into the office where she quickly handed the Sheriff the papers to sign before running down the rules. "First 72 hours there is no phone calls, no e-mails and no visitors. We will be taking you here for a brief physical. In the morning, you will be assessed by a staff psychologist, speak to a social worker and attending therapy."

The Sheriff looked at the bottom line where it asked for the signature of a parent or guardian. He eyed it for a moment as memories of the cellar came back to him and went and circled parent. He then looked over where he saw an orderly use a key card to open a door that wasn't made of wood but prison bars. He was starting to feel his stomach turn and throat close up. He swallowed and then shook his head as he put the pen down without signing. "I feel like we're forgetting something."

The doctor continued as if he didn't say anything by putting a pair of slippers on the table. "You'll be wearing these Stiles. No laces allowed. You don't have a belt do you?"

"No," Stiles mumbled shaking his head as he took the slippers.

She then placed a tray forward. "And please empty your pockets in here."

The Sheriff heard that metal bar door open again and his discomfort rose and his heartbeat started to speed up. "Uh, your pillow," he said suddenly. "Your pillow, we forgot your pillow."

Stiles gave his dad a look. He could see that he was starting to have second thoughts. "Dad, it's okay," he said as he finished taking his shoes off and was now putting the slippers on.

But his dad shook his head. "No, you won't be able to fall asleep. We've got to go back."

"It's fine dad. I don't need it." He really didn't. He had outgrown that childhood deficiency around the time that high school rolled around, which his father knew. Stiles knew what his dad was trying to do. He was trying to use this weak excuse in front of the doctor to try and talk both of them out of him doing this but Stiles couldn't back out. If he was going to protect everyone then he had to stay here.

But his dad was relentless. "I can't believe I forgot. Every time we stay in a hotel the first thing you pack is your pillow."

"You can bring it tomorrow," he politely argued in front of the doctor. "Sorry." He then went and kept emptying his stuff from his pockets.

But the sounds in the hallway and the surroundings were starting to further aggravate the Sheriff's nerves and he just stood up. "No, okay stop, that's enough. Get your stuff. I am not going to check you in here if you are not even going to get one good night's sleep."

But Stiles stood up, gently took him by the shoulders and looked him in the eye. "Dad…I haven't had a good night's sleep in weeks. And, pillow or not, I'm not going to get one any time soon." He then went and hugged him. "I have to do this, for everyone," he mumbled in his dad's ear.

That made the Sheriff return his son's hug, tightly. They then broke apart and Stiles gave his dad one last look before he moved to head off with the doctor. This time, it was the Sheriff who just stood and kept watching Stiles until he disappeared from his line of sight.

Stiles kept limping after the doctor as they went deeper into the building. Stiles caught some movement. He turned and saw the outline of a girl down the hall. It looked like she was watching him. Stiles didn't know why but, he felt something familiar even though he couldn't see her face.

"Stiles," the doctor said pulling his eyes away. "This way."

Stiles looked back and noticed that the girl was already disappearing from sight. He then moved to follow after the doctor as they climbed up some stairs. As they did, Stiles noticed that there was someone at the top.

"Hey, do you see that?" he asked her.

It looked like the person was tying something to the railing and he could faintly hear and make out some of what he was mumbling as he did. "What part of the bird is not in the sky?"

"Stiles, wait for me!" the orderly called out as Stiles rushed as fast as he could ahead of the yelling orderly, but he didn't stop. "That guy up there."

The guy was still mumbling that same thing for a few seconds before he started mumbling something else. "I can swim in the ocean but still remain dry." He kept repeating it, louder ever time as he finished tying what appeared to be a noose.

Stiles began to run faster. "Wait! Stop!" he screamed out at him. But the guy didn't stop. He climbed the railing, still ranting the same thing. "Somebody stop him!" Stiles yelled.

But the guy then jumped and fell but suddenly stopped when the noose caught him. He had hung himself and was dangling just a few feet above Stiles and the doctor's heads. There was some gasps and cries and Stiles looked down to see some people looking on from the bottom level. They were all still and watching the guy swinging but Stiles squinted his eyes when movement caught his eye. They then widened when he saw that it was the bandaged up form of nogitsune, snarling.

—— time skip

Stiles was completely freaked out by what just happened as the doctor kept walking off as if someone hadn't just killed themselves right in front of them.

"Okay, I know that there's the whole 72 hour thing but I really need to use the phone," Stiles almost begged the doctor. He was starting to think that maybe his dad might've had the right idea after all, but she didn't lose a step. "The accident that occurred is being taken care of."

Stiles' eyes nearly popped out of his skull. "Accident? You're seriously referring to that as an accident?"

She moved to unlock one of the rooms. "Incident," she corrected before opening the door.

Stiles let a tense breath out.

"Slightly better but I still need to use the phone. Just five minutes?" he asked as he was shown in. "Three minutes?"

"You'd like to go to sleep Stiles? Or, would you rather like to be introduced to our five point restraint system?" the doctor asked him with a sweet sense of warning that he thought would've made anyone of the Argents proud.

"I would go with sleep." Stiles looked inside the room to see that the one who said that was a guy his age, completely strapped to his bed. He gave Stiles a smile and a slight wave.

The doctor then closed the door behind him.

"No, wait!" Stiles said before he stopped when he heard the locking click.

"I'm Oliver," his new roommate said politely.

He huffed. "Stiles."

"There was a suicide, huh?"

"Yeah," Stiles mumbled still keeping himself in front of the now locked door.

"Is it Monday? There's a much higher rate of suicides on Monday," Oliver said as if they were discussing the weather.

Stiles had enough. It was clear that if the dementia didn't go and drive him crazy then this place definitely would. "Okay, um could someone please let me out of here?! Someone, anyone!" he cried out desperately.

"I heard it by the way." Stiles turned to look at Oliver as it was clear that no one was going to come and open the door. "It happened at the stairwell, right?"

Stiles nodded as he went to sit in the opposite bed. "Yeah, how'd you know that?"

"I heard the echo," said Oliver.

"What do you mean?"

"It's this place. Something about the way that it was built. Everything echoes in here, eventually. That's why they call it, Echo House."

"Echo House?" Stiles mumbled.

Oliver then turned his head and seemingly went to sleep. Stiles just say there at the edge of his bed, staring up at the sky. He tried to keep himself settled by looking at the moon. It's light seemed to be the only thing that kept his nerves at ease these days. His mind went through many things as he sat there. Everything he'd been through for the last year. All the things they've learned about Kira and the Oni. All the things he did in the last few weeks because of the Nogitsune. As the moon vanished because of the rising sun, Stiles then began to see the guy who hung himself again. Heard what he had been mumbling…it was familiar. 'What part of a bird is not in the sky' and 'I can swim in the ocean but still remain dry'. They sounded a lot like…riddles. Now he definitely needed to get ahold of somebody. Scott, his father or Deaton. One of them would help.

Stiles was so focused on all of these thoughts that he didn't even notice Oliver was waking up until he spoke. "Have you been awake all night?" he asked.

"Yeah, I can't sleep without my pillow," Stiles mumbled nonchalantly. Oliver actually gave him a look before he turned and started to cough heavily. "Hey, you okay?" Stiles asked him.

"Swallowed a bug the other day. You ever do that? I keep coughing like it's still in my throat."

Stiles started to smile at this guy's bluntness. "That's disgusting Oliver. Hey, you don't have any idea when they unlock the doors, do you?"

Barely a second after he asked, there was a loud click.

"Now," said Oliver.

—— time skip

Stiles was taking a walk through the institution, trying to find a way to call his father, and Oliver had decided to shadow him. Oliver was walking in step with him giving him the low down of life in Echo House.

"Most of the people here are okay. The violent ones are in closed unit." He then pointed to a girl sitting with her arms enclosed around her legs by a corner. "That's Hilary, she has OCD." He then pointed to a guy being led by the arm by an orderly. "That's Gary, thinks he's Jesus Christ." He then pointed to a guy leaning on a support beam that was just rubbing at his arm obsessively. "Dan, he's also Jesus." Then he pointed to a girl on a couch. "That's Mary."

"Mary Magdalene?" Stiles guessed though not really caring as he had finally spotted a payphone.

"No, she's also Jesus. You'd be surprised how many Jesuses we get."

"Great," Stiles huffed as he stopped because he saw that a girl was already using it.

Oliver read his impatience. "Hey, why do you want to use the phone so badly anyway?"

"Because after one night in this place, I've changed my mind about it being safe for me or anyone, ever." Stiles wasn't going to stay here another minute if he could help it. Even in the bright sunlight, this place still sent chills down his spine.

"No, I think you're wrong." Stiles turned and saw that the girl on the phone was starting to speak louder. "I think I should tell them. They should know the story. They should know the whole story." Stiles shook his head to try and lose the craziness that was pouring at him from this girl. "I have to…because one of them is standing right behind me."

At that, Stiles turned to look back at the girl. He watched as the girl hung up the phone and move off.

"Who was that?" he asked as he moved for the now empty phone.

"Oh, that's Meredith." Oliver shrugged. "She's a little weird."

Stiles gave him a pointed look. "You're a little weird. She's a lot weird." And that kind of weird usually meant trouble. He took the phone but found there was no dial tone. "It's dead."

Oliver nodded. "Yeah. They turn off all the phones for 24 hours after a suicide."

"Why didn't you tell me that before?" he asked him, annoyed.

"You didn't ask," Oliver said as if it was obvious.

"Thanks." Stiles then slammed the phone harder than necessary. He gave a look at Meredith as she walked off. So, she wasn't talking to anyone but it was clear that she had something to say. That, or this place was already starting to get to him.

"Wait, where are you going?" Oliver asked as Stiles started to stomp off.

"I'm going to go and get myself the hell out of this nut house," he said resolutely.

Oliver let out a nervous laugh. "That's not really the appropriate way to describe a facility like this."

Stiles just kept walking until he spotted a familiar wave of brown hair. He caught a glimpse of the girl's face and he stopped. "Malia?" She turned fully around and saw that it was Malia. Malia Tate. Stiles had a flash from last night and realized that Malia was the one who had been watching him when he had first come in. He wondered what she was doing here. She was just staring at him with a surprised look on her face. "Uh hey, it's Stiles. Do you remember me? I'm friends with Scott. My dad's the Sheriff. Remember we helped you out and my dad-"

But he didn't finish as Malia went and threw a punch across his face. A second later, they were surrounded by orderlies.

"Malia!" one of them, a big one, yelled as he went to take her arms and pull them behind her.

Another orderly came behind Stiles and pushed him to the ground to restrain him.

"Hey," Stiles said trying to fight through his hold. "She hit me!"

Malia struggled and so another one came to help the first one.

"Another one like this Malia and you head to the closed unit," the big orderly restraining Malia spat out. He and his fellow orderly then lifted Malia and moved to carry her away.

Stiles was still being restrained and pushed to the ground. More than anything, he wished he had his old strength back. "Okay, stop. I didn't do anything," he argued with the guy who didn't loosen his grip on him. "Stop!"

Stiles tilted his head but he froze when he took a good look at the floor that he was being pushed against. The glass fixtures built into it were familiar. It took a moment but then it came back to him. They were the glass fixtures that helped provide the source of light for the basement that he had been kept by the Nogitsune in his hallucination when he had disappeared.

"Enough!" a new voice shouted out at the orderly. It was Ms. Morrell. "Enough!" The man then let Stiles go and stepped away from him. She then bent down next to Stiles who was still staring at the floor. She noticed the look on his face. "Stiles," she said making him look up at her. "You saw something, didn't you?"

"The basement. I've been down there before."

It wasn't just a simple hallucination that he had experienced. It was a real place that he had gone to. One that he had never even seen before until right now. There had to be a reason that he had seen that basement and if he was going to find out what it was, he had to go down there. It might hold answers to why he had been sent there and why it was important to the Nogitsune.

—— scene skip

Stiles was sitting in a therapy session with about a dozen others. One of them was Malia who he had made sure to be sitting on the opposite side from. The one who was heading the session was Ms. Morrell.

"I want to go back to the topic of guilt today. It might surprise you to hear me say that guilt is a good thing. It's a rather mature emotion." That had a few of them looking away from Morrell, namely Stiles and Malia. Morrell noticed that. She looked over at the girl first. "Malia, you said something about guilt the other day. Said it came with a, visceral reaction."

"I said it made me feel sick to my stomach," she said out to everyone.

Stiles looked away from Malia as next to him Oliver started to cough again.

Morrell nodded. "Guilt often becomes physical. You feel it in your gut. It's not just psychological."

Stiles felt a small chilling breeze hit him at his shoulder and he looked over and his eyes widened when he saw a patient speaking with a doctor. A doctor that looked like the Nogitsune. It turned away from the patient and looked straight at him making Stiles turn away quickly.

"How does guilt make you feel Stiles?" Morrell asked him.

Stiles cleared his throat and looked back at her. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Guilt," she said looking calmly at him. "How does it make you feel?"

"Nervous," he said.

"Like a sense of urgency?" she asked him and he softly nodded. "You feel a need to make up for something you've done. To apologize."

Stiles, out of the corner of his eye, could see the Nogitsune leering at him from the other side of the room. He felt his nervousness spike a bit as his hand started to shake. He noticed that a kid next to him was shaking his hand too. His hand that was covered in gauze. Stiles looked away. Across the circle, Meredith was calmly watching him.

"What do you call someone that feels no guilt whatsoever?" Morrell asked the group as a whole.

Oliver shakily rose his hand. "Sociopath?"

She nodded. "That's right Oliver." Morrell then looked over at Stiles was starting to rub incessantly at his neck, which had started to sprout a veiny looking rash at his neck. At the sight of it, she tensed up. "I'm sorry everyone, but we need to take a break." She then stood up but kept her gaze on Stiles who looked up at her. "Come with me Stiles. I'd like to talk to you for a minute," she said politely but resolutely.

Stiles stood up but he saw that the chair that Morrell had just vacated now had someone sitting in it. The Nogitsune. He quickly moved his eyes to Morrell and followed after her as she started walking. They then started to head out with Malia narrowing her eyes at Stiles' back as it moved down the hall. Meredith also followed Stiles, calmly with an unblinking gaze. As for Oliver he narrowed his eyes as they left before turning to look at Morrell's empty chair. His jaw tightened as he stared at it.

Stiles followed Morrell, still rubbing at the side of his neck. "So you went from working as a guidance counselor at a high school to a counselor at a loony bin. Is that moving up or down?" he muttered as she led him to her office.

She didn't answer him. She just stopped in front of a door and then unlocked it. "Step inside." He then went in and she closed the door behind him. "Look at the mirror, at the side of your neck," she told him.

Stiles saw that there was a mirror stand set up at the side of the room and looked at it. He saw the exposed veins at the side of his neck where he had been feeling some irritation from lately. "What is that?"

She then moved to lift the back of his shirt to see that it was spreading from his neck to his back. "It's called a Lichtenberg Figure. They appear in lightning strike victims." Stiles then moved to re-cover his back. "The fact that they're appearing on you after a shot of wolf lichen is both significant and strange."

"By significant and strange, do you mean hopeful and optimistic?" he asked even though her tone was anything but.

"The injection weakened the fox possessing you. It's been crippled but it won't stay down for too long." She moved to a cabinet to take out a bottle. "When the marks fade, the Nogitsune's grip over you will return." She then moved to give the bottle to him.

Stiles saw they were medication. "What are these? Sleeping pills?"

"Amphetamines. Sleeping is exactly what you don't want to do. You're vulnerable when you get to sleep."

Stiles remembered that when all of this first started, it was when he went to sleep that those mysterious things had happened to him like sleepwalking and memory loss. It sounded like the Nogitsune would have to start from the beginning with him. "So, I just have to stay awake?"

"For now," she nodded. "If your friends haven't figured out something by the time those marks are gone, I'll come find you."

Stiles narrowed his eyes. "To do what?"

"Give you an injection." She then held up a vial. "Pen Chromium Bromine. It causes respiratory paralysis."

"Yeah, that sounds like a fancy way of saying death," he said eyeing it.

She nodded. "It's used for lethal injection, yes."

"So, if the Nogitsune takes over…you're going to kill me."

"I'm going to do what I've always done, maintain the balance."

Stiles sighed. So far, he'd only been seeing the nogitsune randomly but it hadn't really been doing anything to him like last time. But when the lichen wears off, he'll be right back at square one. "How long do I have? Until the marks fade?"

"Two days, at most," she said unflinchingly.

Stiles nodded. He remembered seeing all those dead people. The ones that were left in the wake of Jackson's reign of terror as the Kanima. He remembered how he felt about risking him killing more people and he wouldn't be a hypocrite now. The Nogitsune had already hurt and killed a lot of people already. He didn't want to add more to the list. Besides, he was dying anyway. He had what his mother had: Frontal temporal dementia. He remembered how it was to see his mother slowly wither and die in front of him. He didn't want his friends and especially his father to suffer through that hell again. At least with him here, he wouldn't have to make any of them go through that. "Fine. Thanks for the illicit drugs." He then pocketed the bottle she gave him and then moved to leave. "I've missed our talks."

"Stiles," she said making him stop. "Stay awake."

Stiles then limped for the doorknob but didn't turn it just yet. "You were wrong by the way," he mumbled to her.

"What about, Stiles?" she asked him softly.

"At the session. That guilt was a good thing. It was my guilt for the things I didn't do that went on to do the things that I did."

"I think you might be confusing guilt with blame Stiles. You may feel guilt for what has happened or didn't happen, but I can assure you that you aren't to blame."

Stiles' eyes narrowed up at the door. "Yes I am."

Then he went and left the room. Morrell stared after him with that same calculating look but her eyes had softened a bit.

Stiles then staggered off but he didn't head back for the recreation hall. He moved off to find his way towards the basement level. That had to be where the room was where he found the Nogitsune. There was something in that room that was important and he had to find out what. It might help to finally stop this thing. He checked the halls and silently moved through them until he found the corridor where the stairs were to gain access. He went for the door and tried to open it, but he found it locked. He tried to push his way in but the door wouldn't give.

"What are you doing?" a voice asked spooking him.

Stiles gasped but relaxed when he saw that it was just Oliver. "Uh, I just need to get through here. To the basement."

Oliver smiled at him. "Doctors don't even have a key to this door. Only Brunski."

"Is that the head orderly?"

Oliver nodded. "He's got keys to everything here."

Stiles had to get those keys. "Does he keep them on him all the time?" he asked.

Oliver nodded as his smile turned a little mischievous. "If you want them…you're probably going to have to find a way to trick him."

Stiles narrowed his eyes. "Yeah well a part of me is getting really good at playing tricks," he said spitefully.

Stiles then moved to head on off. Oliver looked over at him walking away with a small, dark smile on his face.

[artofrengin]

Here's a sneak peek of content that's normally not for the general public! For every illustration I made for Netherrealms, I did a write-up of how I made the piece and release that exclusively for ρatrons.

This is an illustration I’ve been looking forward to painting again with my skill having progressed after 5 years. Here’s the first version I painted back in 2016:

This was my starting point when I started figuring out a way to remake this illustration. I didn’t want to change the composition, but I did want to add a lot of things I learned about lighting, costume design and giving direction to the composition.

As usual, I started with a moodboard to gather reference for lighting, the costume etc.

I then started setting up a scene to create reference for for Than’s pose. I loved the pose in one of the reference images (the mannequin in Cersei’s dress at the top left of the ref board, for the experts) so I decided to emulate that, with some adaptations to have Than look down at us all (as she does).

Eventually, I had a scene set up, but no real idea how I was going to approach the new version of her dress. For a quick mock-up, I just made a screenshot from Blender of the scene I already had and sketched on top of that in Photoshop:

Now that I’ve got the basic shapes down, I have a little fun and recreate the dress in Marvelous Designer. I took the dress I made in Marvelous for Nergui earlier as a base and adapted that to fit Than’s frame, and looked up some really basic puffy sleeves patterns to emulate those, plus her overcoat.

(I actually understand sewing so much better after making a few of these - not that I’d actually be able to sew a dress after this though)

Since her collar would be a hard surface thing, I modeled that in Blender, imported the cloth from Marvelous and voilá, we have some reference:

Her collar didn’t have the shape I wanted exactly and the fabric of her overcoat wasn’t as thick as I wanted it to be, but this gives me a good idea of where I want to take the piece. So now I could go on to the actual drawing!

After the initial sketch I begin to lay in some colors, and make selections to fill them with the gradient tool. After a while, the painting looks like this:

I decided at this point I hadn’t taken Native’s anatomy into account enough: their necks are very elongated and their shoulders rest really low. I ended up adapting my sketch with the liquify tool to emphasise that a bit more, though I realized the collar would cover up a lot of that effect.

What I’ve also done at this point is create a design for the overcoat. To keep it consistent, I used the symmetry tool with different shapes to create designs, and clipped those to the blue square I’d created. I then made a smart object out of that whole design. That way, I could duplicate it, use it on the other side of her overcoat, and then change the design without having to redo it twice.

I used the same technique on the ribbons hanging from her collar as the rest of the patterned fabric: I created a design within a smart object, and then duplicated that smart object to fit other spaces where I wanted them to fit. I also decided at this point (after looking up some extra reference) that the gold embossing wasn’t looking like it should, so I made it a lot darker.

When I was almost finished I realized that the image was incredibly dark (in a bad way), so I upped the contrast a bit in the whole image, but also brightened up Than a bit to bring her more to the foreground.

I like to let a piece rest for a while after I’ve worked on it. Sometimes I even come back to a piece after a week with new insights. This one went through the same process. After a week of vacation I came back to the piece and made some final color adjustments and brightened everything up a bit more. And that’s how I ended up with the final piece!

I’m happy to have tackled this piece, because I now have a worthy piece to display next to Time. Now I only need a version of Tallulah where she doesn’t have her head in the clouds and I’ll have the full triptych. :)

If you found that interesting, I have about 19 more articles like this on my patreon, for just $2 a month! And with pledging, you help me create more Netherrealms to boot :)

[fahbev]

@whumper-in-training

ok I don’t know how long my caption is allowed to be, but here it is! The promised fan art! I REFUSE to be self-deprecating here because I actually do like these a lot. Basically, I read this amazing story called ACP- The Agency for Cryptids and the Paranormal, (https://whumper-in-training.tumblr.com/post/673130936584568832/acp-the-agency-for-cryptids-and-the) and I totally fell in love with the character of Zak. This STORY MAN! It broke my heart in half and then lovingly stitched it back together, like multiple times, and I think that’s the ESSENCE of a good story. So yeah I made fan art. 

I was in the car on a fairly long trip, and I had my sketchbook, and I was like, hey, what should I draw? Fuck it i’m drawing Zak. So I drew Zak. I originally didn’t want to deal with how the hoodie would work with all the weird perspective and just gave him a tee-shirt, but then I yelled at myself: “COWARD! Draw the hoodie!” And so I erased the shirt and drew a hoodie. I figure that the hoodie in the picrew isn’t how the hoodie actually looks, it’s just the closest approximation you can get with a picrew, so I put an alien on it because yes. While I was drawing it though, I hit a fork in the road with the pose. I was going to draw him with his hand clawed and the other on his hip, but then I was like “what if he had his arm up instead?” And so I made two versions.

I drew werewolf Zak hell ya! I spent FOREVER inking this. Okay if was only like two hours, but inking is kinda boring and thus I procrastinated, and so it took me like three days to ink it. It took much longer than usual Bc I went over each line a bunch of times to make it look like fur/hair/eyelashes, but you can’t even see it Bc the colors are so dark! Argh! Usually color more than doubles the amount of time I spend on a drawing, but this time I just quickly threw down some color in only like an hour! I was so sure I was gonna say, “it’ll be quick” and then spend another six hours on it, because that ALWAYS happens, but it actually WAS quick so yes.

Last but not least, I drew the gang all together! Technically I drew this second, and colored it first, but you get the idea! This drawing filled me with all the happy chemicals the whole time making it y’all. After several hours it kinda wore off, but every time I zoomed in on Max’s face I got a fresh rush of serotonin. I decided to draw that one scene where they all fall asleep together because it was SO WHOLESOME! I wanted to draw the whole group, but didn’t know what kind of context to do. Then I scrolled through the blog, found that scene, reread it and was like “yes! That’s the one!”. And so I drew it. I did have to look up “do Muslim women sleep with their hijabs on?” And i’m glad it was a google search and not asking a real person Bc the response I found was basically: “No, you dumbass! Why would we do that? That makes no sense-” and several sarcastic responses to the same question on Quora and i’m just like: “:’D” I did look into it a bit more and realized the hijab has to stay on Bc while they are like family, they’re still not her mahrams. Also I figure that if I was gonna post this, even if she was alone, drawing her without it would kinda be violating her privacy yk? Like i’m exposing her for the whole internet to see. Kinda like drawing her naked would be. Anyway, I love this drawing, hope you love it too!

Ok, still keep your expectations to an army crawl because I never finish stuff, but fanfic is in the works. I am probably gonna wait until it’s finished to post it though, that way I can edit things and change earlier chapters. Also! I’m a total novice writer! So it’s probably crap! I don’t care! I have this policy that I would always rather make the cringe fanfic, wear the ugly clothing, make the stupid drawings, the cursed memes, shout all the embarrassing shit, do all the dumb things that teenagers do (as long as it’s not harmful or permanent obvi), sing all the bad karaoke, embarrass myself a TON, etc, and regret it later, cringe so hard in ten years, than to never let myself do anything, constantly hold back, never reach my full potential and regret THAT in ten years. Thank you for listening to my TED Talk. I still might very well be too shy to post it though ahhhhh. For some reason i’m WAY more shy online than irl, that makes no sense. Like I can walk up to a random person and talk to them no prob, but I get super anxious going in someone’s ask box. Maybe Bc I can’t read their body and face language like that? Idk. Like I said, just don’t expect anything.

[kusanalogy]

How'd you draw it so fast?

Albedo x gn!reader

a/n: SUNNY MAKES A COMEBACK AFTER A MONTH OF NOT ACTIVELY WRITING?!?!? Hi my nickname is aiho now 😊 sunny was not my real name haha. reader knows how to draw well

Warnings: NOT PROOFREAD. please tell me if i made mistakes, will edit them

inspired from his 2022 birthday letter, Not the exact scenario (but same idea) and reader is not the traveller/mc

"You're the judge of this one, What do you think?"

Albedo and you we're simply sharing eachother's arts on a cold, silent night right outside of his camp, since he didnt really want a big surpise birthday party. Instead, something simple like this would do.

Your eyes light up at the drawing he presented to you, A neat and detailed drawing of your eyes! "1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10.... eleven!!! Out of ten, that is."

He smiles in approval, looking at his drawing once more. What feature of you should he draw next?

While he puts the drawing back in a pile, he notices the food you've cooked was finished! "Hey, over there. Lets get back inside." He says as he points to the food

You follow and carry your things back, but one paper fell out of the pile. Picking it up again, you realize its just another "work in progess" you never managed to finish. "Nevermind," you think, and place it on the top of the pile.

While eating the snacks you made, albedo starts to tell stories of experiments he did in the past. You managed to understand and listen, only god knows how. In a matter of time, you started to share what you've been doing aswell.

The both of you took turns telling stories, but a certain piece of paper decided to interrupt you. It was the same "work in progress" again.

Albedo noticed it and picked it up. "Ah, whats this?"

"Nothing! Merely a work in progress... Haha..." You insist as you try to take it back. But put it away from you and started to "see if he can get what its supposed to be".. To be honest, even you forgot.

"Is this... A self-portrait?" He guesses and hands it back to you.

Taking a good look at it, it does so happen to look a bit like you. "I'm pretty sure it is."

"Uh- When do you plan on continuing this?"

You clear your throat "I may or may not have completely forgotten about it. Now, what was i saying again? The story."

"Right- rude of me to interrupt you further." Albedo rubs his head, as apologizing

"Thats alright!"

.

.

.

Listening to your humble voice, he couldnt help but wonder what would your reaction be if he continued the artwork for you? It was a nice idea.

Without you noticing, he grabbed a pencil and started from the sense you were using right now: your mouth. Then the face shape, hair.. pose....

"Woah, how'd you draw it so fast??"

Albedo snaps out of his thoughts because of your voice and looks at what he just drew. It was you making a heart with your hands.. Out of slight embarrasment, he covers his face with his hands

"haha, its alright 'bedo, I think its beautiful! May i keep it?"

[agape-bakery]

Hi ! I love your blog and your idea to make a bakery is just awesome ^-^ anyway how are you ? I hope you have a good day :) I'm here to request a female mc who love drawing. And i wonder if you can make brothers react to mc who draw them when they're sleeping, eating or i don't know like you want. If you can of vourse it's not an obligation :3

I wish you a good day \(^-^)/

💫

Thank you so much! I really enjoy the location-themed blogs here like Cafes and such so I'm happy you think the same! I'm doing good! And also, YESS!! I love Artist MCs/Y/Ns because I'm an artist myself! I hope you enjoy these!

The Brothers with an F! MC who draws

Lucifer

He already knew you love to draw and didn't mind that, at least that's one good hobby someone has on his list compared to gambling and parties

If there is something Lucifer appreciates about humans, it's their art and cultures, he might take you to art museums for inspiration and have a date in a cafe and talk to you about the paintings you both saw

If art museums are not your thing, he would be a little disappointed but then again, some artists like more modern artworks and some that are shown online so he understands

And frankly, having you draw him makes him immensely proud of himself for having a talented girlfriend like you, he doesn't ask that you draw him but he secretly wants to

Lucifer occasionally buys art supplies for you but only if you've been good

"So you joined Mammon on going to the casino to draw the people there?"

"Pretty much...."

"Hmm.. I guess you aren't going to get some Copics from me anytime soon."

"WHAT-"

Lucifer is also observant and knows when and who you're drawing immediately

"I can see you staring at me."

His eyes looked up at yours as you looked away, pencil in hand.

"No, I'm not."

He's seen you glance at him several times before looking down at your sketchbook.

It was breakfast and you were sat between a sleeping Belphie and a distracted Beel so you took the time to draw the eldest when no one's looking.

Lucifer hummed and told Beel not to eat so messily as you continued to draw him.

Lucifer has seen many sketches of him and the brothers and when you give him some as a gift, he keeps it well-protected somewhere that Mammon can't steal in his bedroom.

Mammon

He absolutely cherishes every drawing you have, the boy keeps a doodle of him and you as a good luck charm too <3

He might ask that you do commissions and he gets some of it (for giving the idea and managing the commissions-) but one glare and he'll shut up with a nervous chuckle and an "H-hey! It's just a joke!"

When Mammon sees you staring at some art supplies, he checks it again when he's alone and dies inside because of the price and buys it immediately, he doesn't care if he loses a lot of money only a little bit, all he wants is to see your face when he gives it to you

"You better be grateful that The Great Mammon even thought of giving this to you!... Do-don't look at me like that! It was on sale!!"

While Mammon was napping on his couch, you hastily opened your sketchbook and started sketching him and the boy never realized

By the time he woke up, you were already finished doing 5 sketches of him and taking pictures of him for reference

"Oi! What are you doing? Gimme that!"

His heart completely melts because??? you drew him so good??? his girlfriend drew him???? for free??? and out of love????

He also draws you but it's just a stickman with a messy face but you still love it all the same

Leviathan

Finally...another Artist...AND HIS GIRLFRIEND NO LESS!!

He's so happy and giddy to show off his art supplies but he's hesitant when it comes to showing off his art because he thinks it's horrible compared to yours

You encourage him and usually learn together with him whenever he feels awful about his art

He's the Avatar of Envy so there are many times where he's compared himself to other artists so you had to be there to keep him grounded

Art Date, anyone??

It doesn't matter whether you buy art supplies or just take a break from school, it was always nice being around Leviathan

You took the chance to draw him while he was across from you and excitedly showed it to him

He had drawn himself (albeit, in a persona) in many games and animes but your drawing was more special than anything he's ever done

He looked away, avoiding eye contact as he gave you his own drawing which was you in your favorite video game

From now on, whenever the both of you wanted to give small gifts, you draw each other!! <3

Satan

A demon who enjoys impressionism art, there's something about the dreamy landscapes and colors that really makes him calm aside from reading

I think he would paint for a change of pace but gets frustrated because of how difficult it is so he goes back to reading

So watching you draw makes him impressed, drawing takes so much time to master

He doesn't mind whatever art style you have, aside from the impressionism style, he would have yours as his favorite

He understands the pain of art block so he often invites you in his room, one where the others wouldn't bother you, just don't touch anything or else you'll turn into some random animal for a few hours

He also encourages that you read with him when you're uninspired! Reading helps the imagination and the mind, and he'd be happy to recommend some for you!

You trust him with your sketchbooks and he trusts you with his books! The both of you knew the other wouldn't do anything which is why he only lets you inside his room

While Satan makes a drink for you, humming an old song in his DDD, you drew him in overalls and glasses

When you were bored, you would always draw your boyfriend in random outfits and would often show it to him (which he all loves)

"Overalls and Glasses, huh? I might wear it tomorrow." Satan grins, peeking at your sketchbook as he puts down the drinks.

Don't get your hopes too high, he isn't going to wear a maid outfit........yet-

Asmodeus

Oh? You draw? Wellll, if you need a model, he's happy to be your own personal model, but it comes with a price ;)

He loves that you draw! And would ask you to draw him

There's many artworks he likes but yours he enjoys the most, even if you aren't his girlfriend

Might ask you if you can design outfits and draw him in certain outfits so he can try them out!

Of course, drawing is not an easy feat so he'll pay you handsomely~

If you do commissions, he gets one just so he can support you

He knows that art doesn't pay much yet it is so overlooked by others

"Everywhere is art, darling, I'm surprised some humans don't know that! Of course, I'm the most beautiful art there is but I'll have you as second~"

He might blush if you draw him without him asking, he think he's desirable enough to draw without a price! After hearing that you just love him might make him blush harder! Aww, you!

He'll give you several pecks as he laughs after seeing your drawing of him! One where he was posing in one of the photos you had of him during your dates

Anatomy is hard so if you want a nude model, he'll volunteer on the spot, sure he has thoughts but if you're fully intent on getting better, he's happy to help!

Beelzebub

He's not the type to focus on art so he doesn't understand it much, that doesn't mean he isn't impressed though!

He has heard of Food Art and Food Illustrations though...Based by the Arty Event, he seems to be good at drawing food! He wanted to try it more but Lucifer forbid him in case he would eat the paper and get chemical poisoning or something-

However, if you could also draw food, he would be so delighted!!! He won't eat it, he promises!

It's fine if you don't, though, he expects that you might not understand working out and sports like he doesn't understand art

Might be clueless if ever you feel bad about your drawings, he thinks it looks really good! But upon hearing how frustrated you are, he would give you hugs to comfort you!

While Beel is a oblivious sweetheart, he fully supports your hobbies and would invite you to diners and restaurants so you can draw while he eats! He might even join you while he's eating

As he eats a huge cheeseburger, you drew him, smiling at how happy he looked

When you gave it to him, he told you how spot on you drew him when he eats and keeps it around him, he avoids it getting dirty at any cost

Belphie suggested that gets a photo frame so he bought one! Now your drawing of him lays on his bedrest safely~

Belphegor

He used to love art as much as Satan and Lucifer does but he doesn't anymore, not until you showed him your drawings

You rekindled a small flame in him that he never thought would come back

He doesn't draw because it's way too much work but he enjoys hearing you draw, the sound the pencil makes when it moves around the paper, and the smell of lead and paper makes him sleepy

He secretly likes those papers that have a nice smell in them so you buy some whenever you go out to get some art supplies

"That's way too many sketchbooks, MC."

"Nothing is way too much-"

Because he always sleeps around you, he doesn't entirely realize that you have a bunch of drawings of him in your sketchbook

It makes him warm when he sees your drawings of him

He wishes he could do more to support you even if you tell him he doesn't have to so like Beel, he keeps your drawings near his bed and looks at it before he sleeps

[sciapod]

Bathtub Photoshoot 💦

Pairing: Henry Cavill x First Person-POV (Female, or at least X wears a bra and has breasts)

Summary: Little private photosesh' with Henners and then some.

Warnings: Dry humping but let's just call it grinding. Edging. 18+ to be safe!! Contains smut. You might be able to find the tiniest bit of angst. And bit of fluff.

Word count: 2.5K

Not beta’ed! I take full responsibility for this fuckup.

Inspired/prompted by this post by @cavillfics

Masterlist

I obviously don't own Henry Cavill, nor do I know him IRL, so it goes without saying that this is a figment of my imagination.

(I took the liberty to edit the photo just a bit and don’t know who to credit for the original edit. Let me know if you know, so I can give credit where it's due.)

Happy reading 💦

---

“Babe, I've got an idea! Can you do something for me, please?”

When I heard you coming through the front door, I rushed to meet you there. You were finally home again and was hanging your jacket on the coat rack when I found you.

“Oh, well,” you reply, “I really want to just lean back, maybe take a shower or something. It’s been a long week, babe. And hello, by the way.”

You step over to me, reach around my waist and pull me against your firm body.

“Mhm, you smell lovely,” you whisper in my hair. I sigh, then wiggle myself free of your embrace.

“Henry, listen,” I look up at you with my best attempt at puppy eyes. You breathe deeply and turn your face, scratching mine with your stubble. It sends shivers through my body.

“Okay,” you hum as your hands roam my body, finding their way to my bare thighs then sneaking up beneath my robe, “tell me.”

I grab your hips and press my core against your thigh as I lean backwards, looking up at you, “I want to take some pictures … of you.”

Your face goes through a range of emotions; surprised, suspicious, smirking, friendly and finally incredibly charismatic: Front-page-style smile.

“That’s the one!” I say with excitement.

“Which one?” you tease, furrowing your brow and looking all suspicious again.

“You know perfectly well, you buffoon!” I say, as I slap your chest playfully.

My entire body lifts when you laugh. You kiss my forehead and twirl some of my hair between a few fingers. Your eyes shift, gazing at various areas of my face. I sigh, then reach for your hands, the one playing with my hair and the other, which I find gently caressing the lace of my panties.

I hold your hands between us and look up at my man.

“You do realize, of course, that you are basically a Greek god carved out of stone.”

“I have been told so, yes.”

“And you do realize that every artist needs a muse, a model, to create from.”

“I have a faint idea of that, yes,” you say, smirking down at me.

“And I happen to be short of a project, and subject, for my portfolio.”

“I see,” your smile broadens, “but what does that have to do with me?”

“Henry!”

My declining patience must have been obvious somewhere in my face or perhaps my exclamation, because you burst out laughing, throwing your head back as you do so. I can’t help but melt a little.

“Tell me what you need me to do, darling,” you say, stroking my hands with your thumbs. I feel warmth spread through my chest. Your face softens and I feel the warmth spread further down.

“Fuck,” I breathe, casting my eyes to the floor. I’m suddenly filled with all kinds of insecurities, imposter syndrome and such, but there’s a reason why you’re my man. You sense it immediately and lift my hands to your lips, kissing them sincerely.

“You’ve got this, babe.”

I sigh, “I know, sweetheart. It's just… Urgh.”

You kiss my forehead.

“Tell me your idea.”

“I…” My voice breaks. You lift my chin up with a single finger, as if it were suddenly light as a feather, forcing me to look into your striking blue eyes.

“I don’t know,” I finally exclaim. “I didn’t have a concrete idea. I just knew that I wanted you to be in the photos.”

You smile, almost apologetically, “Okay, look. I really want to help. But I’m so damn tired. I’ve got an idea, though, of how we may be able to hit two birds with one stone.”

“Okaay?” I say, a slight tinge of hope seeping into my core again.

“I need a bath–”

“–I can’t take a nude picture of you!”

You laugh again, but shake your head, “No, silly. Let me finish.”

My cheeks flush scarlet.

“I need a bath, but instead of taking a shower, I’ll jump in the tub. Once in there, you can have me do whatever you want.”

I squint my eyes, then see a lightbulb flash on.

“YES!” I almost yell, running my hands up your torso and leaning in for a kiss.

“Yes,” I repeat, then press my lips against your sculpted ones. It is as if your lips curl to a smile amidst the kiss.

“Yes,” I say one last time, meeting your eyes, “If you get the water running, I’ll collect my gear.”

Your hands go wandering about on my hips again, dragging my robe up and making my hairs stand on end. You look down at me with a confident smile, saying, “great minds think alike.”

I fight off the urge to kiss you again and instead draw away from you. You catch the waistband of my robe and it slides off as I step away, revealing the new set of lingerie I’m wearing underneath. I stand, looking at you with what I imagine is the expression of a suspicious feline. You, on the other hand, make a low whistle and shake your head in slow motion, clearly surprised and pleased to see what I was hiding beneath. Then you nod toward the living room, signalling I get on with finding my camera.

It takes me a few minutes to find the right lens. When I enter the bathroom, you’re in the process of unbuckling your belt. The tap is running and there’s already a bit of water in the tub.

“Wait,” I say, stopping you just as you’re about to pull your jeans down, “I think I want you in the water dressed.”

You stare for a moment, shrug, say “sure,” then proceed to tug your jeans over your perky bum again.

“Right, erm,” I think for a moment, “No, you know what? Lose the pants, but keep the t-shirt on.”

“Lose the pants,” you repeat and let your jeans fall to the floor. As you stand back up, I realize something.

“We might have a problem,” I say, eyeing the hefty bulge in your boxers.

You follow my gaze, noticing the same problem, then nod in agreement.

“But then again,” you say, “what did you expect, looking like that?” you hint at my open robe and lingerie.

We both shrug, then burst laughing.

“I guess we’ll just have to make it work!” I say, “Now, in the tub with you, buddy.”

You feel the temperature of the water and deciding that it’s decent, turn off the tap, step in and lie down. There’s not a lot of water in there, but I’m assuming it will do. You look up at me with anticipation, “Now what?”

I squint at you, finding the bulge slightly distracting, basically towering above the waterline like another Burj Khalifa. Obviously, you notice my lack of response.

“Hey, babe!” you say, snapping me out of it. I feel my nether region clench.

“Okay, okay!” I shake my head to wake up. You shake yours too, smirking at me.

“We need to do something about that,” I say.

“I can try to hide it?” you suggest.

“How?” I squint. It’s a mastodon of a package you has stored down there, I think to myself.

“Anyway, I need to find a position to photograph you from.”

I begin taking random photos of you from various angles and perspectives, simultaneously adjusting the settings on the camera as I do so. Meanwhile, you roll around to one side, then the other, then back again. The squeaking sounds of your body rubbing against the sides of the tub while you change poses makes the whole situation rather comedic, and I'm convinced you're doing it even worse on purpose. Determined to be somewhat professional, I try to ignore your distractions.

“It’s a good thing we have such good lighting in here,” I say, gazing around the small room, pretending to be focused and ignorant of your attempts at sabotage.

“How do you want me, babe? I feel like… I don’t even know? A fish out of water,” you say, doubting your own wording, “or something like that.”

I sigh, “I know, I get it. I need to think. We’ve also still got that… situation… going on.” I gesture at the, no less apparent, tent between your legs.

“Okay,” you say calmly, “I’ll just lie back and relax, while you think of something.”

“Good.”

As you settle into a comfortable position, I mentally run through the various “golden rules” of photography that I can remember.

Then it’s as if I notice the obvious. The absolute god-like adonis carved in marble in front of me: My initial inspiration. Your white t-shirt, soaked from all the turning and splashing around you did, is sticking to your chest and abs, enhancing the lines of your muscular torso, yet still in a perfectly suggestive fashion; somewhat similar to the drapery you see on these same sculptures. In a fit of impulse, I crawl up to stand on the edges of the tub.

You open your eyes –awoken by my scramblings– fear in your eyes as you reach for me, “be careful, babe!”

“No no, darling! Stay put!” I say, “I’m perfectly safe. It’s dry. My feet are dry. I’m stable, but thank you.” I smile, reassuringly. Suspicious yet accepting, you lower your arms and lie back down. I notice your eyes trail down my exposed body. Lust now clear as daylight in your gaze.

“I think I’ve got the photo soon, babe, then we’re done,” I explain. “Just close your eyes for me.”

You shake your head and smile, then do as I said.

Your head rests on the back of the tub, but your fingers begin fidgeting … around your nether region.

“Are you uncomfortable?” I ask between photos.

“No…” you smirk, eyes still closed, but you shift and rest your hands awkwardly on your stomach instead.

“We can’t have that,” I say, “you’re covering the main part of the photo,” I tease.

You open your eyes, still smirking but not saying a word.

“And you’re revealing, exposing, what we need to hide,” I try to hold back my laugh.

“Okay,” I continue, “what about… what if you hold your t-shirt at the hem and stretch it down to cover your crotch. Place your other hand casually beside it. Yeah, like that! Exactly, babe. Beautiful.”

I take a couple of photos and look at them on the tiny screen.

“Right, hold that pose, but just… kinda relax, if you can. I’ll take a few shots more and then you’re done!”

You close your eyes again and begin taking deep breaths, lessening the tension that must have been building in your shoulders over the last few days. As peace falls upon your face and body, I take the last photos. After quickly reviewing them on the tiny screen, I decide that I’m done. I turn off my camera and place it on the shelf above the tub before crawling down to sit on the edge of the tub, my feet in the water between your legs.

“Okay, it’s a wrap!”

Your eyes flash open and you let go of your t-shirt. The fabric bounces back, revealing your hairy tummy, teasing me. You look up at me with mischief, then give your member a squeeze.

“Get down here,” you say, almost ferocious in your voice.

I feel myself get all giddy with sudden anticipation as you rise like Poseidon from the water. Before I can do anything other than yelp, you pull me down onto you and with a splash and a thud I land against your rock-hard body. I'm instantly soaked.

“Finally,” you mutter, drenching my face and neck with hungry kisses. Your hands tease the collar of my robe before sliding it over my shoulders. Your eyes explore the curves of my upper body, then you adjust me so that I sit straddled upon you. You don’t speak a word, but your eyes and body say everything I need to know.

I feel your girth throbbing against me. You slide my robe all the way off and without taking your eyes off me, you cast it aside. Then your hands slide up my body. You cup my breasts tenderly, admiring the lace and how the new style of bra suits my breasts. You lick your lips as your thumbs begin stroking my hardening nipples. I sigh and begin grinding against the tip of your member.

You sit up and proceed to kiss and bite the flesh of my breasts. Gently holding the lace aside with your fingers, you capture my nipples between your teeth, ever so gently, before circling your tongue around them with exquisite attention. While squeezing my breasts together, you kiss them one after the other, back and forth, before venturing up to my collarbone and neck. All I can do is whimper and moan.

Then you grasp my hair, pulling my head back. Between kisses and bites on my exposed neck, you breathe damp, sultry words onto my skin. Expressions of how I’ve been a tease, how patient you’ve been and how much you want me now. I want to answer, but I can’t do anything but mutter incoherencies; your throbbing cock eagerly pressing against my core and thus stealing all of my vocabulary.

My breath quickens as I grind harder, cursing the fabrics that keep our cores from meeting, merging. Then you push me towards you, allowing our lips to meet in hungry kisses. My bra loosens. You must have managed to open and take it off me with your other hand, before also casting it aside. You grab at my liberated breasts, then sit up and pull your drenched t-shirt over your head. It lands on the bathroom floor with a splash. My hands instinctively seek the wet fur of your stomach and chest, momentarily squeezing your pecs, then wander south again.

Your eyes read pure hunger and you buck your hips. As I fall back down from the jump, my core meets the powerful strength of your pelvis, bucking yet again. I gasp, overcome by a mixture of arousal and humor. You buck again, a laugh escapes me and somehow, after a few times of this, you’ve managed to free your erection from your boxers. I didn’t notice, but at some point you must have turned on the tap again, because I see you turn it back off. I guess this increased level of water also explains the more slow-motion-like sensation I experience as I land back down on your pelvis; a somewhat softer landing than before. In my own defence, I was entranced and my mind was not functioning at 100%, hence the questionable description. Anyway, both our hips are now submerged under water and I simply shake my head at your mischievous ways. You smirk and pull me down to a deep kiss, slapping my ass through the water, making more water splash all over the place. Everything in the room is certainly wet by now.

I grind against your exposed and infinitely hard cock as your fingers slider under the lace. Your hands grab my cheeks with determination, enhancing the force and enabling you to better thrust against my grinding motion. The friction is causing short-circuits in my brain, making me see colours that aren’t there. My first climax is staggeringly near, but just before I get to release, you buck your hips again, making me scoot off your cock. A devious grin is smeared across your chiseled face.

“You had me waiting, sweetheart. Now it’s my turn to tease.”

---

Thanks for reading my shitpost! Please leave a comment of your thoughts, however nonsensical they may be 💜🙏

Tags in the reblog 🖤Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list.

[cuddlepilefics]

Please Help

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Changbin

Caregiver: Minho

Changbin gets sick and while trying to hide it gets into an argument with Minho, who might be the only one there to take care of him.

Changbin’s POV.:

It was getting closer to four in the morning and I have yet to fall asleep. For some reason, my stomach had started to hurt pretty bad at some point during the late evening. I couldn’t tell whether it was something I ate but I knew if it wouldn’t get better soon, I wouldn’t get any sleep before having to get up for our schedule. Dance practice, something I really wasn’t looking forward to at the moment. Even if my stomach got better by then, I’d be way too tired for the intense choreographies we’d be working on. Just thinking about all the fast turns and jumps made my stomach churn uneasily. Considering there was no use in laying in bed stressing out, I slowly got up. Maybe some tea would settle my stomach, so I could get at least a tiny bit of sleep. I had to be carefully as I felt a bit queasy if I moved to fast. Wrapping one arm around my aching middle, I shuffled to the kitchen. I didn’t feel like turning on the ceiling lights as they were way to bright, so I ended up using my phone’s flashlight to find my way. After I turned on the kettle, I grabbed my favorite cup and popped in a bag of ginger tea. My mother once told me it helped with nausea and I prayed it really would because being up and moving made me feel increasingly queasy. Waiting for the water to boil, I moved a bit closer to the sink, unsure if the odd feeling at the back of my throat was just a fluke. My mouth was watering a little, which worried me quite a bit. If this got bad enough to make me throw up, I probably wouldn’t be better in a few hours, when we’d have to head out.

I was so distracted worrying, that I almost missed the water boiling. Snapping out of my thoughts, I prepare my tea before shakily making my way to the living room. The few minutes I had been standing seemed to have drained most of the energy I had left and I weakly plopped onto the couch, drawing my knees up to my chest. Closing my eyes, I rested my forehead on my knees and took a deep breath. By now, I was almost certain that I was sick. My head felt too light for me to just be tired and I highly doubted the dorm was as cold as it seemed to me. I couldn’t be sick now though. We were way too busy for me to take some time off. Usually, I’d be rather open about how I felt because I knew my friends would be by my side, comforting me until I felt better, but with how busy we were, I didn’t want to stress the rest of the group out. Completely forgetting about my tea on the coffee table, I sprawled out on the couch with my hand under my shirt, rubbing soft circles over my stomach. Exhausted, I must have fallen asleep because the next time I opened my eyes, it was already dawn and when I sat up, reaching for my tea, it was cold. My stomach didn’t hurt as badly anymore, though it was still a bit sore. Checking the time, I realized we’d have to get up in ten minutes anyway, so I disposed of my cold tea and went to get ready. It was a bit of a struggle because although my stomach had gotten a bit better, my head had become foggier and I stumbled around clumsily, probably waking most of the members already with all the noise.

No one’s POV.:

Though he was up earlier than his friends, Changbin took quite a while to get ready, spacing out frequently. It all made sense with the fever he was running but the rapper didn’t think to take his temperature. Knowing about his fever wouldn’t make much of a difference anyway, as he had already decided not to say anything and to go about his day as if nothing was wrong. Chan noticed the younger not being fully awake and made sure the rapper would have breakfast, knowing he’d need the energy for their dance practice. Changbin figured that maybe, if he was lucky, having some food would help settle his stomach further and maybe, just maybe, he’d feel less dizzy after eating something. He was quiet on their way to the company building, still trying to shake the fog in his head as he knew he’d have to be more than just focused if he wanted to keep up with their dances.

They were still warming up when Changbin realized, his breakfast had been a mistake. His stomach was churning again and he cursed himself for not skipping out on the meal. The rapper had no idea how he was supposed to dance like this, afraid he’d make himself sick with all the fast movements. “Changbin, wake up! We want to start now, so move”, Minho ordered. The members were already on their starting positions, all except for Changbin, who seemed to be in his own world. Startling, the rapper nodded and quickly got into position. He didn’t even know which song they’d dance to first and anxiously waited for the first beats. Today was not his day. Of course, Minho would start with the most complex choreography first, so they’d have the time to perfect it. He didn’t know how but Changbin managed to go over all the moves, being only slightly behind the beat. It wasn’t good enough though for him not to be called out by Minho, reminding him to speed his dancing up a little, so he’d keep up with the music. Barely paying attention to what his hyung was saying, the rapper nodded along as sweat ran down his back. His stomach cramped and he tried not to wince before he was forced to go back to his starting position, so they could give it another try.

About an hour in, Changbin wasn’t doing any better. His dancing was at least as off-beat as it was the first time and his moves grew increasingly sluggish. The rapper had already excused himself to the bathroom twice, feeling like he needed to be sick. He hadn’t thrown up and had made his way back to the practice room either times after accepting that it had been another false alarm. By now, Changbin contemplated just sticking his finger down his throat, as he’d probably feel better after getting everything out, so dancing wouldn’t torture him as much anymore. Pausing the music again, Minho sighed: “Bin, can you at least pretend you’re taking this seriously?” - “S-Sorry, hyung, I am”, the rapper apologized, trying to pull himself together. He just couldn’t focus, no matter how badly he wanted to. Changbin swallowed hard, fighting the rising nausea. “Well, you’re moves don’t really make it seem like you are”, Minho commented, “Put a little effort into it, would you?” Not daring to open his mouth, the younger nodded, making himself dizzy.

Minho’s POV.:

Changbin had been slacking off ever since we started and was really getting annoying. It didn’t look like he was even trying at all, his moves all over the place. The more time passed, the worse it got. We needed to get this perfect soon because one of the company’s choreographers would stop by towards the end of our practice to see how we were progressing, which in my dongsaeng’s case was backwards. Taking a deep breath to calm my temper, I reminded him: “Pull yourself together, Changbin, alright? Someone will watch our dance later and if you keep fooling around like this, all of us will get in trouble.” – “S-Sorry, I-I need the bathroom”, he stammered, already fleeing without giving me the chance to say anything else. I had lost track of how many times he had already escaped ‘to the bathroom’, probably trying to kill time till our practice was over. Giving Chan an exasperated look, I went on to help the rest of the members polish up their moves. The leader only shrugged, contemplating going after Changbin but by the time he had made up his mind, the rapper already returned. He took his time, getting a drink first before joining us in the middle of the room again, causing me to pinch the bridge of my nose and remind myself to stay calm for the sake of the other members. I was really irritated but needed to be professional, otherwise we’d make even less progress.

No one’s POV.:

The remainder of their practice session passed just the same and before they knew it, they were joined by the choreographer. Changbin blinked confused. He had forgotten they’d have a visitor, no matter how many times Minho reminded him. Swallowing convulsively, the rapper prayed his stomach would stay where it was. He hadn’t thrown up yet but the number of false alarms was ridiculous. Spacing out while the dance-racha talked to the choreographer, Changbin snuck a hand under his sweaty shirt to palm his cramping stomach. He couldn’t suppress a shudder, feeling chilled to the bone in his sweat-damp clothes. It was confusing really, how he could sweat that much when it was so cold in the practice room. They had surely turned the aircon down to arctic temperatures. Seeing the other members gather in the center of the room, Changbin dizzily made his way over and prayed he’d be able to get through the entire song. He really didn’t want to get sick or faint in front of everyone, especially now that someone else was present, expecting him to be professional. One of the jumps made his stomach lurch, acid rushing up his throat. The rapper panicked, gritting his teeth and quickly swallowing it back down, while trying to not miss a beat. In the end, he surprised himself by striking the ending pose without passing out, despite the black spots clouding his vision.

Still panting, Changbin saw the choreographer walk up to him. He could hear the other talking but couldn’t comprehend anything he said, too distracted by his stomach sloshing nauseatingly. A trickle of sweat ran down his temple as he nodded along to whatever the choreographer was saying, mainly focused on staying upright without puking on the other’s shoes. When the older finally stopped talking and bid the group goodbye, Changbin plopped down on the ground, assuming their practice was finally over. He was startled when a fuming Minho walked up to him. “Why couldn’t you just take it seriously earlier?”, the dancer spat, “I have so many other things to get done today and now I need to stay behind until you get it right.” Blinking at the older confused, Changbin muttered a tired: “What?” – “Didn’t you listen to a word he was saying? I really can’t believe you! You and I are forced to stay here until you get it right, so get up! We’re starting right now, no breaks just dancing because I also need to practice my vocals later and am not planning on staying here all night”, Minho snapped, grabbing his dongsaeng’s wrist and hauling him to his feet. Blacking out for a second when he was upright, Changbin swayed on his feet but managed not to fall.

The other members were already packing up their things while Minho got a drink before walking over to the sound system to start the music again. Sensing the tension, the group quietly left as they didn’t want to irritate Minho further. When the dancer turned around again, he had top realize that Changbin had slipped out of the room unnoticed. Angrily gritting his teeth, Minho paused the music and went to go look for his dongsaeng. Considering he hadn’t been gone for long, the rapper had to be somewhere close by, so Minho decided to check the practice room next to theirs. It was empty and closing the door again, the dancer’s eyes fell on the bathroom a little further down the hallway. His anger dissolved when he heard muffled sobs through the door, already assuming it had to be Changbin. Minho’s prediction was correct and he found the younger curled up against the far wall, feeling guilty as he could see now that the rapper hadn’t been fooling around but was actually struggling. Quietly sitting down next to his crying dongsaeng, the dancer draped his arm around the other’s shoulders. Changbin hadn’t even noticed his hyung walking in and startled when he was suddenly touched, flinching away. “Hey, ssh, it’s okay”, Minho hummed, finally taking a closer look at his friend. His heart broke when he noticed how pale the rapper looked, barely distinguishable from the wall behind him. His sweat-soaked practice clothes clung to him uncomfortably.

“I-I’m sorry”, Changbin whimpered, not looking up, “Hyung, I’m so s-sorry, please- Hyung, please he-help.” Trying to make eye contact with the younger, Minho promised: “It’s okay, Binnie, I will but you need to tell hyung how. What’s going on?” The rapper only choked on another sob, squeezing his eyes shut. Gently brushing back Changbin’s sweaty bangs, Minho cringed when he felt the heat radiating from his dongsaeng’s forehead. “You’re burning”, he stated sympathetically, “Haven’t felt well all day, hm?” The younger defeatedly shook his head, shifting and trying to get up. His face had taken on a slightly greenish tint, so Minho helped him up, getting the rapper settled in front of the toilet. “H-Hyung, I can’t”, Changbin muttered shakily, before ducking down with an unproductive gag. Comfortingly rubbing his back, Minho instructed: “Deep breaths, then explain what you can’t and how I can help.” The rapper coughed weakly before drawing in a shaky breath and admitting: “Can’t throw up. Always feel like it but nothing’s happening.” – “That’s why you’ve been running off all the time wasn’t it? I’m so sorry I never took the time to ask you if everything was alright”, Minho cooed regretfully. Nodding, Changbin tensed with another gag, hand going up to his throat that ached from the strain. Getting back up, the dancer promised: “I’ll be right back, I’m just going to get you some water. Maybe drinking something will speed things up. Just hang in there.”

Minho hurried to retrieve his dongsaeng’s water bottle from the practice room, all the while beating himself up for making assumptions earlier. In hindsight, it was obvious that Changbin hadn’t been alright. He would never slack if a choreographer was present. The dancer’s eyes landed on his own sweatshirt, carelessly thrown next to his bag. Quickly grabbing that too, he rushed back to the bathroom, only to find Changbin in pretty much the same position that he had left him in. Resting a gentle hand on the younger’s shoulder, Minho hummed: “I got you a warmer shirt too. You’re not going to get better if you’re running around in wet clothes. Do you want change first?” Shivering pathetically, the rapper nodded and struggled to get his sticky shirt off. Minho helped him pull it off before handing him the sweatshirt. It was a bit tight around his dongsaeng’s broad shoulders but it was a lot warmer.

Changbin slumped with his back against the toilet stall, closing his eyes and bringing his fist up to his face to muffle a queasy belch. “Do you want to have some water? Either it helps your stomach settle or it makes you sick, so you can get it over with and I can take you home”, Minho offered, already uncapping the bottle. The rapper winced but accepted the bottle. He didn’t really want to be sick but after so many false alarms, it’d be better to just get it over with than be stuck in this limbo forever. Taking a few tentative sips, Changbin realized the water certainly wouldn’t settle his stomach, so he started to chug it quickly, struggling to keep from gagging. He barely got to finish his drink before dropping the bottle and scrambling over the toilet bow, as the water gushed from his lips. Minho was there in a second, running his hand up and down his dongsaeng’s back to keep him calm as wave after wave of clear water shot up his throat. Choking a little, Changbin gave a painful cough and reached for his hyung’s hand. He yearned for comfort, needing a hug but his stomach wasn’t yet done. It clenched again, causing the rapper to pitch forward with a strangled retch. Biting his lip, Minho took Changbin’s hand, that was still blindly feeling around for his, and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

It took a while for Changbin’s stomach to calm down again but they were in no hurry. Unlike his earlier claims, Minho would definitely stay the entire night at the company building if that was how long the younger needed. When it didn’t seem like the rapper was going to bring anything else up, Minho carefully pulled him back let him lean against his chest while he tore off some toilet paper to wipe his dongsaeng’s lips. Changbin dizzily closed his eyes, huffing shaky breaths while the older cleaned him up. He was glad he finally got it over with but now he was so spent that it didn’t feel like he could get up at all anytime soon. There was a gentle hand on his forehead, brushing the damp bangs back before softly scratching his scalp. “Feeling at least a little better now?”, Minho whispered as he continued to run his hand through the younger’s hair. Lacking any energy, Changbin could only give an uncertain hum and kept his eyes closed as he slowly relaxed in his hyung’s hold. Checking his fever again, the dancer promised: “You will soon. As soon as you feel ready to move, I’m taking you back to the dorm, so you can rest in your bed and I can fetch you some medicine but don’t worry, there’s no rush, you can take as long as you need.”

Changbin drowsily went in and out of sleep as Minho didn’t have the heart to wake him, so they could go home. The dancer had no idea how long they had been sitting there but it didn’t matter all that much to him. Yeah, he wanted to get the younger home but if the other needed to regain some of his energy first, that was fine with him too. Minho was deep in thought, guiltily recounting all the opportunities he would have had to realize his dongsaeng was sick, when Changbin sleepily sat up. “Hyung, can we go home? I’m tired”, he muttered, voice scratchy from throwing up. The older nodded and got up before extending his hands to help the rapper up. Changbin’s head spun when he stood and Minho was quick to wrap him in a hug to steady him until he had adjusted. Even when the rapper nodded that he was okay now, Minho kept one arm around his waist, just in case. They slowly made their way back to the practice room, where the dancer hurriedly threw their stuff into their bags before slinging both of them over his shoulder.

Their walk back to the dorm seemingly too forever as Changbin dizzily stumbled next to Minho, who tried to keep his dongsaeng from falling. Unlocking the door, Minho quickly kicked off his shoes before helping the younger with his. He walked the rapper straight to his room and placed his bag next to his desk after sitting the sick boy down on his bed. Changbin instantly curled up, struggling to pull his blanket over himself as he still shook with chills. Cooing sympathetically, the dancer helped him with the blanket before turning to leave the room. “Hyung, can you please stay? I-I know you have a lot of other stuff to do, so you don’t have to, I just- I-”, Changbin rambles sleepily, needing the comfort he had been craving since last night but still remembering the older’s temper earlier. Face softening, Minho crouched next to the bed. He gently cupped his dongsaeng’s feverish cheek and whispered: “I will, don’t worry about it, yeah? I will stay with you as long as you’ll have me but I need to get a few things first, so we can try and bring that fever down at least a little.” Changbin nodded and closed his eyes, hoping his hyung would be quick. He had lost all sense of time, so he had no idea how long it had been before the mattress dipped beside him. “Bin? Do you feel like you could drink something? I don’t want you getting dehydrated after getting sick and sweating so much during practice”, Minho asked carefully. The younger shrugged propping himself up on his elbow and accepting the water his hyung handed him. The dancer had also gotten a bucket, figuring Changbin would throw up again before he was able to get over his bug, and a cold washcloth to place on the rapper’s forehead. When Changbin handed the water back, Minho placed it on the nightstand and got into bed beside the younger, cooing when the other up on against him. “Your head must be hurting a lot, so I’ll put something cool on it that will hopefully help your fever”, the dancer whispered, draping the washcloth across his dongsaeng’s burning forehead before running his fingers through his hair repeatedly. Giving a satisfied hum, Changbin relaxed and soon drifted off to sleep but still heard the quiet: “I’m sorry, Binnie. I’ve been a shitty hyung today but please know, I will always help if you ask me to.”

[wicked-mind]

Betrayed: Chapter Four

Summary: Everybody thought Steve’s sister had passed away decades ago. But when you show up at the facility and try to attack Bucky, there are questions to be answered.

Word count: 5.5k

Warning: A bit of violence, talk of kidnapping and torture, talk of surgery, a hint of PTSD

Series Masterlist

All Writings Masterlist

NOTE: I would like to thank everybody for your support. As I previously said, this is the first time posting creative writing on any platform. As a thank you, I’ll be releasing two chapters today (3/19/21). Again, any feedback is appreciated. Enjoy (:

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Chapter Four- I Guess We Can Be Friends

The rest of the team returned finally. A smile returned to Y/N’s face after seeing her brother and Wanda after the week. Steve made sure to get a run down of everything that happened in his absence from Clint and Bucky. Hearing of her nightmares, the voice she heard, and the progress her and Bucky had made. Steve and Bucky both exchanged the word ‘progress’ again with a smile. The chip they had recovered was protected, they couldn’t access the information on it right away, having to do some deep digging.

Steve found his sister chatting with Wanda, filling her in on everything that had happened. Y/N talked to Wanda about her nightmares and how Bucky was the one who woke her from them. She told her friend about how she heard the voice in her head, to which Wanda looked concerned. With Y/N’s permission, she could look to see if there was something else in her head, but she would wait for that until Y/N was ready for that. Steve entered the room with a light knock, smiling at Y/N.

“I’m all caught up on things that happened while we were away.” Steve told his sister, with a small comforting smile, “We recovered your chip still in tact. We are trying to get into it the information on it.”

Y/N nods, then looks at Wanda, “I need you to do it. Look in my mind and see if there is someone else.” She said, to which Steve and Wanda both looked shocked, “Please Wanda, I can’t sit here and wait to see if he starts whispering again. I have to know if it is real or if it’s me slowly going insane.” She whispered the last part.

“Don’t you think we should wait for a little bit? At least until we see the information on the chip?” Steve asked, concern in his voice. He didn’t want to push his sister into anything that could more damage her fragile state.

Y/N looked from her brother to Wanda, nodding, “Do it.” She demanded.

They gathered in the medical bay, allowing Y/N to lay on one of the beds. Wanda positioned herself behind her friend’s head, looking to her for permission. Y/N nodded and closed her eyes. The whole team watched closely, besides Natasha who had already left to go to the prison. Bucky and Steve had concerned looks on their face about this. Wanda positioned her hands on either side of Y/N’s head, red glowing from her fingers. For a moment, it was silent as Wanda searched, before she drops her hand, looking up to Steve with wide eyes, “There’s someone in there.. I can’t tell who but he is definitely the cause of the whispers. It’s has the same energy as Y/N, but it’s darker, stronger.” Wanda said gently, then looking at Y/N’s face. For a moment, Y/N looked relieved that she wasn’t going insane or being haunted by ghosts. But then worry came across her face as she realized something else was pulling strings in her head.

Bucky shifted uncomfortably on his feet, feeling useless. He couldn’t protect Y/N from the voice in her mind. He had the instincts to protect Y/N from anything and everything. He was determined to find this owner of this voice in her head, make it stop.

“We will wait to see what Natasha figures out.” Steve broke the silence, walking over and helping his sister up from the table. He looked down at her and offered a smile, to which one was returned up to him.

When Natasha was able to get into the information on the chip, she gathered the team to share her findings. She waited for them all to be seated around the circular table before beginning, “The chip showed what Y/N told us. It was used to send direct orders to her no matter where she was in the world. We are still working on downloading the information of where she went and what she did.” Natasha paused, “It also had a second function. It was blocking out some other transmission to her brain. I would guess it was keeping away the whispers that Y/N is now hearing. We aren’t sure what is causing the whispers or why it was important for Hydra to keep them out.” She paused, before looking at the rest of the team, “We don’t know how dangerous these whispers are. There was a reason Hydra wanted them blocked out. They could pose an immediate threat. The safest option would be to keep Y/N in the detention center until we know more.”

Y/N had snuck to listen outside the room. She was very quiet, and could get away very quickly if necessary. She, after all, was trained for things like sneaking around and gathering information without being seen, among other things.

The room fell silent as the team processed what Natasha was proposing to them, “We can’t do that to her.” Steve told the team, “She hasn’t been a threat to any of us since the first night. If we put her in one of the detention cells, it’ll show we don’t trust her and think she’s dangerous. Y/N is just trying to get back on her feet. She doesn’t want to hurt any of us.”

“I don’t trust her. That’s the issue.” Natasha countered, “If those whispers are dangerous, she can snap at anytime and turn on any of us. If she bites one of us and flees, that’s the end of it. Someone will die. We have to take necessary precautions.”

Bucky glared at Natasha for this idea, his jaw clenched, “You can’t do that to Y/N.” He repeated Steve’s words, “She dug herself out of a grave she was meant to stay in, took the chip out, and found us for help. She just wanted to see her brother again.” He said, “She attacked me for a reason. I have forgiven her. She’s not a threat unless we treat her like one or give her a reason to feel threatened.” He paused, taking in a deep breath, eyeing everybody else in the meeting, “If we force her into a cell, we are no better than how Hydra forced her into that coffin. She will break down as it reminds her of the things she went through. You break that trust, we won’t get it back. Any of us.” He said, looking to Steve, then Clint, and to Wanda who was nodding her head in agreement.

Wanda cleared her throat before speaking, drawing the attention to herself, “Y/N is not a current threat to anybody. I’ve seen in her mind, but more importantly I’ve spent almost every day with her. She just wants to live and be happy. Her mind is full of good. She’s a good person of which horrific things have happened to. Y/N doesn’t deserve to be punished for something she hasn’t done yet. I can keep an eye on her mental state, let us have an early warning if the whispers come back stronger.” Wanda watched the others as they slowly nodded in agreement to what she was saying.

“I have part of a solution.” Clint finally spoke, his arms crossed as he sat in his chair leaning back, “She doesn’t pose a threat now. I’ve trained with her more than anybody, she knows how to hold back. She has self control. But, just in case, why don’t we keep some of her blood in stock in case she does snap and bites one of us?”

Steve nodded, “I think that’s the best idea. We will get her to donate some blood to us for emergencies. She will understand and want to help. She doesn’t want to hurt any of us, she will want us to have the cure.” He looked at Bucky for a moment, before looking to Natasha who shook her head, knowing she was out numbered, “For now, we keep an eye on her. Help her. If something happens, we will discuss it.” He said in a tone that everybody knew meant the conversation about locking Y/N away was over. He sighs, slowly standing, “On another note, the annual fundraising gala is tomorrow. Everybody pick a charity of your choice before the party.” Natasha folded her arms, looking at Steve, “You really think the gala is the best idea right now?”

“Of course. We have been walking on eggshells for six months, putting all our focus on unraveling this mystery. We need a break. Thor is already coming in, and the guests have already sent in their RSVP. They’re expecting it. ” He said, knowing he was just irritating and pushing the limits with Nat, who had now exited the room in a hurry, “I guess that concludes our meeting.”

Y/N listened, she took a deep breath, then started chewing on her bottom lip. When they started speaking of the gala, she left. She knew when her brother used that tone it was end of discussion with her situation. She swiftly made it back to her room, sitting on her bed, pulling a magazine onto her lap. She just flicked the pages, not reading it at all. She was thinking about what was said in the team’s discussion. What Natasha said, about locking her away. Maybe that was for the best, she didn’t want to be a threat. She didn’t want to hurt anyone else. But listening to what Steve and Bucky said, they were right. The way Bucky talked about how she would break, he was right. She couldn’t keep herself under control if she was locked away, isolated. It would just be more proof that she was who she thought she was, a hopeless killer.

Y/N heard Wanda approaching and focused back on reading the magazine. Wanda came in beaming with a smile, “Up, up, up, get up!” She said, pulling Y/N by her hands to her feet.

Y/N smiled and laughed, letting her pull her to her feet, “What are we doing now?” She asked, happy to have a best friend like Wanda. She brought joy into Y/N’s life, someone she can be herself around.

“We are going shopping, where’s your shoes?” Wanda said as she searched around the room before throwing the black combat boots at Y/N, how caught them with ease, “The gala is tomorrow and we need to find some dresses.”

Y/N put her shoes on quickly, excited to go out and spend the day with Wanda shopping. She hadn’t got to leave the facility that much, she was excited to see what the world offered her today. Plus it would be nice to get her mind off of what she learned listening to the meeting.The two walked out the front of the facility, Wanda spinning the car keys in her hand. Y/N looked back at the facility, seeing Natasha watching her through the window, before getting in the black BMW with Wanda, “What’s Nat’s issue today?” She asked, curious of what the reply would be.

Wanda waved her hand as if to say forget about it, “Oh don’t worry, that’s just her face. She has RBF. Some days it flares up more than others.” She joked, putting the key in the ignition and speeding down the driveway towards town. On their dress mission, they talked about things. Wanda asked Y/N to tell her if she started hearing whispers again, that it was very important to let her know to which Y/N nodded, promising her best friend. Then they talked about something Wanda always wanted to talk about. Bucky. Wanda knew Y/N’s feelings about him, the good and the bad ones. Lately the better ones have been taking over and replacing those bad memories. Wanda was determined to help replace those memories, for Y/N’s sake and Bucky’s. She knew Bucky still had strong feelings for Y/N, it was hard not to keep out his thoughts when they screamed so loudly for Y/N. And she also knew that Y/N still had those lovey-dovey feelings for Bucky, just maybe a litter deeper down.

THE NEXT NIGHT

Wanda was helping Y/N get ready for the gala, already done getting herself ready. This was Wanda’s favorite event the team held. They got to dress up all fancy and let loose in their own home. There was no shop talk, just fun. Wanda slowly ran the curling iron through Y/N’s blonde hair, curling the ends perfectly so they would bounce as she walked. Wanda was already dressed and ready. As she finished up Y/N’s hair, she smiled, placing the curling iron down, “Don’t touch that.” She warns, not wanting her friend to get burned. Y/N nodded, looking at herself in the mirror. She was all dolled up for this event.

Wanda smiled, putting on her heels, “I’ll meet you out there.” She said, heading for the door, before looking back at Y/N who was still looking at herself in the mirror, “C’mon Y/N, get dressed. Chop chop!” She said and then disappeared out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

Y/N tore her eyes away from herself. Her eyelashes were darkened with mascara and her lips were red from a lipstick she borrowed from Wanda. She looked very similar to how she did when she was taken by Bucky. She had curled her hair, put on red lipstick, excited to meet him for their date that never happened. The memory was painful, but she thought about the things Bucky had done for her. He was patient, kind. He helped her through break-downs. He said all the right things. He was being the Bucky she remembered and wanted. She decided she would be open to giving him another chance, being more accepting of him. The only way she would know for sure is if she let him in a little bit. She slowly stood, walking over to the closet and pulling her dress out. Wanda had helped pick it out. Y/N was a little reluctant, the style of dresses had changed since the last time she had worn one. When did they become so revealing? Y/N slipped off the robe she was wearing to get ready, placing it on her bed. She slipped the black dress on. It fit her curves perfectly, although maybe a little tight, “God how do people breathe in these.” She said, flattening out the scrunched lines as she walked in front of the mirror. The dress was jet black, flowing to the floor. There was a slit up the side to show off her pale leg, a little too high if you asked Y/N but Wanda assured her it was the style. It had sleeves that draped over her arms, a small dip in the front but not too revealing. She lifted her hand to her shoulders, her fingers brushing against the silver scars from a past life. She didn’t remember how she got the ones that looked like bites, but there were many of them that were hidden by the view of this dress. She slipped on her black heels, wishing she could just wear her boots. But Y/N knew Wanda would just drag her back to the room to put the shoes on. Y/N gave herself one final glance in the mirror. The dress was beautiful, she was beautiful. Even with the red eyes that seemed to glow. She turned and made her way out of her room and to where the party was being held.

As she entered, Wanda immediately was at her side, handing her a glass of dark wine which Y/N accepted immediately, taking a small sip. The lounge was decorated beautifully and filled with people who were all dressed up also. Steve was sitting at the bar with Bucky and Sam, laughing. He noticed his sister’s arrival and quickly walked over to greet her.

“You look beautiful, Y/N.” Steve said, giving her a quick hug, “I’m glad you decided to come. It’ll be fun.” He promised.

“Yeah I didn’t get to really decide.” Y/N laughed, looking at Wanda, “I’m pretty sure she would’ve dragged me down here, I figured it was easier to come willingly.”

Steve chuckled, giving Wanda a thankful smile, “It’ll be great, don’t worry about anything. Tonight is all about fun.” He said, placing an encouraging hand on his sister’s shoulder, before getting pulled away by some men who seemed excited to have a conversation with the Captain America. Steve figured a Y/N needed some fun. It had been all serious since she came back that she hasn’t really gotten to live.

Y/N and Wanda walked around, introducing themselves to guests and sharing stories. Well, Wanda was doing the sharing. Y/N didn’t have any stories to share, just listened and laughed as she met all the new people. All of them were very nice, and not too intrusive.

Bucky had noticed Y/N as soon as she walked in. He about spit up his drink by how beautiful she looked. He wondered if this is what she would’ve looked like for their date that never happened. It made his heart jump thinking about it. He watched Steve go up to her, a little jealous that he was just able to approach her so easily. He watched her throughout the night, staying at the bar. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. Y/N was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. He watched her laugh, envying the wine glass she kept bringing to her lips. It reminded him of the one kiss they shared. He cherished that memory of them. Her lips were so soft against his. He wanted that feeling again but knew it was out of his grasp.

At some point, Bucky lost track of Y/N in the crowd. His eyes scanned all the faces in the room, looking for her. He stood up when he saw she wasn’t with Wanda. They had been together the whole night, but now they weren’t. He pushed through people, apologizing and saying excuse me as he searched for Y/N, before turning to look out a window. She was standing out on the lawn alone, her head tilted up to the sky. He immediately made his way out there, wanting to make sure she was alright. He shut the door quietly and approached Y/N, smiling.

“Y/N?” He said, wanting to give her a heads up he was approaching, “Everything alright?” He asked as he stood beside her.

“Oh, hi. Yeah, sorry, I’m fine.” She said, looking over to him with her red eyes. She noted how handsome he looked. He was wearing an all black suit, his hands in his pockets. She returned her gaze up to the stars, a soft smile on her red lips, “Just needed some air. I got distracted by the stars. They’re beautiful.”

Bucky kept his eyes on her face, “Yeah.. Beautiful.” He said, not talking about the stars. He examined her face. She was smiling, and her expression was nothing but happiness. He loved seeing her like this- happy. It’s what she deserved.

Y/N looked back to Bucky, noticing he was still staring at her, knowing he wasn’t calling the stars beautiful. She turned towards him, her red eyes meeting his crystal blue ones. She smiled softly, her red lips curving, before she looked down at her almost empty glass of wine, “Buck…” She said softly, as if ashamed, “I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you. And… you know.. biting you,” She gestured towards the scar on his neck, biting her lip before continuing, “I know that wasn’t you. They were in your head like they were in mine.” She was just now realizing it had been god knows how long since she drank and she may be a little tipsy.

Bucky shook his head at her apology, his hand leaving his pocket as he touched her arm, “Hey, don’t. It’s fine. Your last memory of me was taking you to them. I understand. I probably would’ve had the same reaction. It hasn’t changed the way I see or feel about you, darling. I know who you are. You don’t have to apologize for your trauma.” He said softly, smiling at her.

Y/N lifted her head again to meet his gaze. His skin on hers felt almost electric. It made her skin crawl, her hairs standing up. She nodded, her eyes looking around Bucky, anywhere but his face. Hearing him call her ‘darling’ made her body feel warm. She felt like her heart was racing. She finally looked at his face. She could tell he had just cut his hair recently, probably to look nice for the gala. He looked just like the Bucky she knew. When she arrived his hair was longer, but now his hair was shorter, those blue eyes watching her, a small grin on his face. She took a small step towards him, “Since all is forgiven…” Y/N said, her eyes keeping contact with his, “I suppose that means we can be friends.”

Bucky’s grin only widened as she took a step towards him, his eyes never leaving her face. He was observing every move she made. Everything about her was extraordinary. As she spoke the words he had long waited for her to say, he felt as if a weight had been taken off his shoulders, “I would love that.” He replied, “That means we can do friend stuff, right?” He said, talking a small step closer to her, his hand still on her arm, “Like go for coffee, watch movies, have dinner sometime?” He said softly, hoping he wasn’t overstepping with her.

“Hot chocolate,” She corrected, “Not coffee.” She smiles, her eyes watching his as he stepped closer, she bit her lip slightly, her focus moving from his eyes to his lips.

Bucky chuckled at her response, “Hot chocolate with caramel.” He responded, remembering it was her favorite. He knew she didn’t like coffee, but she loved hot chocolate. He was locked onto her eyes that looked at him from underneath her long, dark lashes. He looked at her lips for a moment, wondering if he should move in closer. He felt as if she was giving him all the signals, even flirting back with him. She hadn’t denied him. He leans his face in closer to hers slowly, watching for any reaction, which to his surprise didn’t come.

Instead, a different surprise happened. A flash of light separated the two quickly. When the light faded, Y/N noticed a circle emblem on the ground, but then noticed the man standing in the middle of it. He had short blonde hair, was tall and muscular. He held a large axe in his hand.

“Great timing, Thor. Good to see ya. You’re late.” Bucky said, obviously a little annoyed that the moment between Y/N and himself was ruined.

“Barnes! Good to see you.” Thor replied, placing a pat on Bucky’s back. He was smiling ear to ear, obviously excited about the event, “Who’s your friend?” He said turning to Y/N.

Y/N smiled, “Y/N Rogers.” She said, her red eyes studying him. She had read about him and heard all the stories.

Thor looked at Y/N confused for a moment, “Steve got married? I wasn’t invited?” He said, almost hurt looking.

“No..” Both Y/N and Bucky said at the same time, both laughing a little bit, “I’m his sister.”

Thor looked relieved, before smiling, “Oh yeah, I see the resemblance now. Besides the red eyes, that’s extremely interesting.” He said, point at his own eyes as he talked about hers. Noticing he made her slightly uncomfortable with the comment, he continued, “Well, I better go in and say hello.” He said, walking passed the two and into the party.

Y/N looked back at Bucky, laughing a little at what just happened. It was a little awkward and embarrassing, but the timing was funny to her.

Bucky smiled as she laughed, “So uhm…” He chuckled out, watching her closely, “More wine?” He said, motioning towards the almost empty wine glass still in her hands.

Y/N shook her head, smiling, “Oh no, I’m good. It’s been forever since I’ve had a drink. Tonight I’m a one and done type of girl.” She said, nodding as she told herself this. She was already a little tipsy, she didn’t want to press her luck, “We should head back in though. My feet hurt and there’s some left over pasta in the fridge that’s calling my name.” She said, turning and starting to head back inside. Bucky followed her close behind, smiling to himself. She was treating him like a friend, maybe even more than a friend. She was talking to him like she had growing up. It was exciting to him. It reminded him of a simpler time. He followed her up the stairs to the kitchen in the living quarters, watching as she heated up her food in the microwave. Y/N grabbed a fork, turning to see him still there, “I’m gonna eat this in my room then go to bed.” She said, smiling a little.

Bucky nodded, “I’ll walk you.” He said, even though it was right down the hallway. He wanted to spend as much time as he could with her, just in case this was a dream he was going to wake up from soon. He joined her as they walked down the hall, stopping at her door and opening it for her.

Y/N slipped into the room and placed her food on the desk before turning back to Bucky who was still standing there like a dream, waiting for her. She approached him, smiling, “Thank you.” She said softly, She reached her hand out and touched his arm, still smiling up into his eyes, “Good night, Bucky.”

Bucky grinned at her touch, “Anytime, doll. Good night.” He said happily, accepting the fact this would be the end of their night together, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Tonight was perfect to him. He turned to return back to the party down the stairs. Nothing could bring him down tonight.

Y/N smiled at the pet name, giving his face once last glance, before shutting the door. She smiled to herself. She hadn’t felt like this in a long time. She felt undeniably happy. There was no negativity creeping in at all. She quickly kicked off the heels and changed out of her dress into some sweats and a tank top, hanging the dress back up in her closet. She grabbed her pasta and sat on her bed, turning on the tv. It didn’t take long for her to finish her food, placing the now empty food box in the trash before curling up in bed, falling asleep.

Thor had made his way around saying hello to everybody, before returning back to Steve who was now with Bucky at the bar, “You didn’t tell me you have a sister,” He said to Steve, holding a mug of beer in his hand.

“It never came up.” Steve said, smiling at his friend.

Thor shrugged, “Would’ve been nice to know. The red eyes are very interesting.” He mentioned, taking a large drink of her beer, “Is she otherworldly?”

Steve shook his head, “No, she was a Hydra experiment.” He informed, looking uncomfortable by this conversation.

Thor nodded, taking note of the buttons he seemed to be poking on Steve, “That’s unfortunate, I’m sorry.” He said, placing a comforting hand on Steve’s shoulder, “Oh, and sorry for ruining your moment.” He said to Bucky.

“Moment?” Steve asked, looking from Thor to Bucky, “There was a moment?”

Bucky said silent for a moment, before speaking, “It’s alright, Thor. Y/N and I were just talking.” He said.

Thor looked from Bucky to Steve, “Right… Talking. That’s definitely what I saw.” He said with a smile, “I think I need another.” He said as he looked at his now empty mug, before walking away.

Steve watched Thor leave, before looking around the gala, “Where is Y/N?” he said, realizing he hadn’t seen his sister in a while, and after hearing about the potential ‘moment’ he wanted to make sure she was alright.

“She went to bed, I walked her up.” Bucky said, to which Steve looked at him, eyebrows raised, “She said we could be friends again.” He informed, smiling slightly, though he didn’t get the reaction he was hoping for from his friend.

Steve nodded slightly, “Just friends.” He said. He was never thrilled about the idea of his best friend and sister growing closer. He was Y/N’s brother after all. He knew Bucky was a good man, but he still couldn’t think of them being anything more than friends, “I’ll head up there, be close just in case anything happens.”

“No, I’ll go. Don’t worry, I won’t disturb her.” Bucky said, standing from his seat at the bar, “Besides, you’re in charge of this party. Can’t be leaving. I’ll just sit down the hall until Wanda comes up.” He promised, to which Steve nodded almost reluctantly, still wondering what moment Thor had intruded on. Bucky turned and made his way back up the stairs. Keeping his promise to Steve, he sat outside Y/N’s door in the hallway. He could hear the tv on inside the room, listening as he tried to determine what she had been watching before she fell asleep. He concluded it must be a tv medical show of some sort. After about another hour, Wanda came through the hall, giving a smile towards Bucky with a nod as if to say she had it from here, before disappearing into the room. Bucky stood, watching the door close he caught a glimpse of Y/N sleeping soundly. He smiled, tucking his hands back in his pockets as he made his way back to his own room.

____________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @vicmc624 @the-ayo-lit @daddysfavoritesexkitten @springsoulofengland @tcc-gizmachine @taina-eny @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable

[onebizarrekai]

v3′s art is comically terrible for a professionally distributed game in a series: a compilation

in this not-essay I will list all of the mistakes and problems I have spotted in v3′s art. don’t worry, it’s entirely for fun and I’m doing this on a whim, so please feel free to not take this seriously but also it’s hilarious and embarrassing how ridiculous this is like what happened did they speedrun the whole production or what

see, there are some things you can take as meta like “they made it bad on purpose to allude to the downfall of tv shows that have been on air for much too long” but I have a very strong feeling this is not the case due to the nature of some of these errors

disclaimer, the more I study this art, the more I fear that the artists were underpaid and underslept, so if this is in fact the case, I am so sorry to all of them but also I’m going to make fun of the art anyway

anyway let’s get started!

if you study this image for longer than 5 seconds, you will see that kaede is the only one fully shaded and keebo is literally just his normal sprite pasted into the image. every other character is just an ordinary ref, hence most of them facing the exact same direction with neutral expressions on their faces. it looks like a bad edit, and is probably one of the worst pieces of art in the game. it kind of gets better from here on, but my roasting will not.

with that out of the way, here’s the problem that officially bothers me the most and clarifies my viewpoint of “this is not meta and an actual lack of company communication”

this freaking cg, which seems normal at a glance, but some wiseass was like “oh, kaede is a girl, so obviously she’s going to be shorter than the Male Protagonist™” ah, that’s funny. because if you look at the character bios, kaede is, in fact, one inch taller than shuichi and not like 6 inches shorter as she is shown here.

also shuichi’s shoulder is disproportionate and horrendous and he looks vaguely like a jojo character, but I wasn’t even thinking about that until right now.

thanks guys, 50% of the fandom who has never bothered to check these bios thinks that kaede is like 5′3 (did the developers really put so little thought into her to the point where drawing her correctly in the game didn’t even matter??)

also I would like to point out that, even though this isn’t related to the art itself, yes, a character kaede’s size being only 117 lbs is unfeasible, but this applies to literally every character in danganronpa ever and it’s not new news that it’s unrealistic

update: someone in the tags informed me that in versions of the game that use centimeters, like the japanese version, kaede is actually shorter than shuichi, which just adds another thing to the list of weird decisions the localization team made for no reason. that said, after confirming this, kaede is 167 cm in the original, while shuichi is 171 cm, which are approximately 5′6 and 5′7 respectively, but one inch is still nowhere near as drastic as it is depicted above. (in spite of this, I would rather depict kaede as slightly taller, so I’m probably going to keep doing that.)

the journey continues!

bro if you want kaede to have shoulder length hair then stick to it to begin with

you can pretend this is at an angle all you want but they definitely committed the shorter kaede sin a second time

wait a goddamn second.

DO YOU SEE THIS

no………… it wasn’t kaede who shrank. it was shuichi who got taller

speaking of which, can we talk about how shady the perspective is in this elevator pic? look at shuichi and kokichi in comparison to kaede. kokichi, who is canonically 7 inches (edit: or 5, if you’re loyal to the original) shorter than kaede, looks taller than kaede. he’s growing too. what steroids are these gays taking

running into the room, electric boogaloo: I don’t think tsumugi is supposed to be the same height as kokichi

gonta… gonta you’re lookin a bit like a jojo character there

I love how kaito’s head looks kind of like it was pasted onto his body. why is he the same size as shuichi? shouldn’t he be high school bully size or something? his torso is teensy

ah yes, white angie.

I love this cg but why is shuichi’s right hand so much bigger than his left hand

I also love how this cg looks like they literally took pictures of trees and pasted them into the background, especially on the left. the shadows are so weird, especially closer to the ceiling, it’s difficult for me to believe they didn’t do exactly that.

return of Enlarged shuichi

puberty update: kokichi is now taller than shuichi in spite of shuichi never missing leg day. what crimes will he commit

I have to mention it, guys. this has to be one of the worst danganronpa cgs. kokichi’s facial proportions look atrocious. look at the way his face sticks out like his jaw is in the wrong place. his scarf is a pasted texture. that’s it. this moment was so iconic but the cg just looks so… so… off. like something is terribly wrong, but you can’t put your finger on it.

you know what? let’s get into that ‘pasted texture’ thing.

let’s imagine you’re an artist working on a professional game. you’re assigned to draw cgs of kokichi ouma, who has a checkered scarf from hell. sure, it will be terrible to draw, but you only have to draw it once at a time! plus, perspective is pretty important, right? can you be bothered? nah, actually. let’s just copy paste a checkered pattern into the cg, because I’m sure nobody will notice. it’ll blend right in with the other cgs that someone actually put effort into drawing his scarf in, right?

no. the answer is no and I very much noticed. this genuinely looks terrible and I would understand taking a shortcut like that in fanart or even an indie game but this is a full price pc and console distributed game

(an addition: look at kokichi’s TINY HANDS in that last one)

meanwhile, they straight up forgot to color in kokichi’s scarf in this cg.

dude. I forgot about whatever the hell this cg was. anyway look at keebo please just look at him

lovin kaito’s baby arms

real talk, maybe you could argue that he’s missing muscle because he’s deathly sick, but most of his cgs don’t line up with this, and his arms just look disproportionate to his torso size (granted this is a consistent problem across all danganronpa games and a lot of characters have this weird problem, like hajime, but also kaito is bigger than hajime so I kind of have higher expectations of him) maybe it’s his stupid goatee and the way he reminds me of yasuhiro?? it creates this illusion that he’s older than he is and so I keep expecting him to look more like an adult

oh, also rantaro is missing some of his accessories in that video he made–you know the one–but I don’t wanna go back and screenshot it

also you may have noticed that I’m skipping all of the monokub cgs because I literally do not care about them and I’m not even bothering to check and see if they have artistic mistakes in them

JIMMY NEUTRON???

hey um uh kaito you seem to be missing your neck

hey guys do you like my pregame fanart

so, that done, the sprites are also pretty terrible at times. they’re not as interesting to go through, however, and downloading the full sprite sets for every character and studying every single one of them will drive me insane, so I’ll just sum some of the ones I noticed up. I made things for kaede and shuichi before deciding I wasn’t going to get into it, so here are these.

that said, other mistakes include kokichi missing his purple highlights in all of the sprites encompassing a specific pose, stray pixels all over the place on everyone, and everyone also has heavily inconsistent shading, but literally all I think about is how pregame shuichi is unshaded and two of kaede’s pregame sprites have glaring outfit change mistakes in them

anyway, thank you for taking the time to read my ridiculous ramble. in all seriousness, there’s this looming presence of some lack of communication in the development team, like with all the art and design inconsistencies, pieces and sprites that look rushed, stray pixels, and missing basic proportional stuff. these are the kinds of things that you supposedly have to pretty much have in the bag in order to get jobs in professional businesses, so it’s really weird to me that this game suffers from so many of these problems. it’s like they tried to make the art so much more crisp than the other games, but it fell on its face as they realized it was going to take longer to draw everything and they started to rush. it’s weird, because the coloring itself looks normal–it’s just sloppily drawn, and the proportions are a mess once put into the context of perspective. many of the cgs look like they were drawn by different people, and I’m still not over the fact that half of kokichi’s cgs have his scarf pasted in as a texture.

the moral of the story is that if you’re selling a game at full price that also happens to be in a series that has had 3 very good games in it already the stakes should probably be higher than this. v3 has been out for more than 3 years and it’s still $40 (did it cost more than that before? I sure hope not), and the overarching quality of the game is just not as high as the other games. I’m not saying that the other games don’t have any problems with their art at all, they’re just not as glaringly obvious and every artistic choice in those games feels intentional.

regardless, I had a blast roasting the art at 2am, so maybe you got a kick out of all this chaos.

[hangovercurse]

Blind Date (continued)

You invite Colson in after your blind date

Request: “I loved this so much! If you get the chance and are up to it, I’d love a second part!” ”I would like to read a second part of it”

Colson X Reader

Warnings: cursing

A/N: Have I edited this? No. Did I even look back over this after I wrote it? Also no

Word Count: 1974

Your hand touched the handle before you turned around, finding Colson in the same situation at his car door, still looking at you. “Do you maybe wanna… come in?” You asked, biting your lip. His face lit up, a smirk highlighting his features.

“I would love that.”

The man’s lanky figure strutted over to your front door as you opened it, pausing as he entered to take in the smell of your house that screamed you. He let his eyes wander around the place as he stepped further in, taking off his coat and shoes at the front entryway.

You moved into the kitchen, pulling out a bottle of red wine while he made his way into the space. You found a note on the counter from your best friend and roommate.

Staying at Eric’s tonight in case you and your date need the place to yourself <3

You rolled your eyes at the note, chuckling as you tossed it in the trash. You rustled through your drawers to grab a corkscrew, fiddling with the bottle as Colson shuffled into the room, standing behind you to encase you in his arms.

He took the corkscrew from your hands and opened the bottle with ease. “I was getting there,” you whined jokingly.

He chuckled, “I could see that.” You turned around and allowed your lower back to rest against the counter, squeezed between the surface and Colson. His arms rested on the countertop on either side of you, his figure leaning to be level with you.

You couldn’t help but admire his features, his bright blue eyes and the stubble on his jaw sparking your artistic mind. “I wish I could sketch you right now,” you murmured your thoughts aloud.

He smirked, leaning closer into you, your lips almost meeting, “why don’t you?”

You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before softly speaking, “you would get bored being my model.”

He pulled away from you, fingers running across your waist until they found your hands, intertwining your fingers. “I would be honored to be your model.”

You perked an eyebrow, “seriously?”

He shrugged, “I’ve done it before for cameras, and you are much more interesting than photographers.” He pulled you away from the counter, “go get your stuff and I’ll pour wine.”

Rolling your eyes, you walked towards your art room, which was really just your bedroom, “don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

When you returned, he was wandering your small living area, a glass of wine in his hands and one on the small coffee table. His eyes danced along the picture frames you and your roommate had placed around the house when you first moved in, which you honestly hadn’t looked at since.

You stepped into the room with your sketchbook and pencils, making your presence known. His gaze drifted to you with a smile, watching you settle onto the couch, “so, is this your roommate?” He motioned towards one of the pictures.

You glanced up, smiling at the goofy picture you two had taken at graduation, “yep, that’s us.” You turned your head back to your book, flipping to the next blank page as he continued asking about your pictures.

“Who’s in this one?” He asked, pointing to a photo of your roommate and her boyfriend, Eric.

You chuckled at the image of them pulling funny faces in the front seat of a car while you sat in the background looking bored, “that’s Eric, her boyfriend. We went on this huge road trip and they swore I wouldn’t have to third wheel, but I obviously did.”

Colson let out a small laugh, taking a sip of his wine, “and who is that?”

You had honestly forgotten about the picture he was pointing to, but seeing it made your stomach fill with unease. “Oh, I forgot that was still up,” you sighed at Colson’s curious expression, “that’s me and my ex, TJ. We broke up months ago, I thought I’d gotten everything of his out of here.”

Colson could see the discomfort in your expression, sitting down on the armchair next to your couch, throwing his legs over the side and posing dramatically. “Bad ex, huh?” You nodded, not wanting to make him uncomfortable with the conversation, though you wanted nothing more than to open up to him. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

You rolled your eyes, turning so you could face him, “of all the poses, that’s what you pick?”

He smiled innocently, “yep.” A chuckle fell from your lips as you looked down at your sketchbook, pressing your pencil to the paper. “Fine, I’ll go first,” he began, “can’t really get to know each other if we don’t get at least a little bit of trauma out of the way.”

You looked up at him and giggled, “you got me there.”

He sighed, taking a sip of his wine, “Baze told me not to talk about it, but the look on your face when I asked you about him tells me you might be able to relate.” You raised an eyebrow but kept drawing, giving him a silent signal to continue. “I was dating this girl for a while, you’ve probably heard of her, Megan Fox.”

Your eyes went wide at the name, looking up at him in shock, “yeah, because that’s not an intimidating act to follow at all!”

Colson waved you off, “you’re doing great so far, don’t even worry about it.” You gave him a stern look, but he only continued with his story, “anyways, we were together for a while and she told me all the time she thought we were soulmates, and I believed her, you know?” You bit your lip, starting to feel slightly intimidated as he spoke about the woman. “But then she cheated on me after, like, 9 months. And I realized after we broke up how wrong we were for each other and how much she manipulated me.”

You frowned as he spoke, his tone getting sadder with each word. “That’s so shitty. I don’t understand why people cheat in long term relationships, especially after you’ve given them so much hope and trust. Like someone convinces you that they love you and then they go around and pull that shit. It’s evil.”

He nodded, a slight smile on his face, “I’m over it now though, in case you were worried. Came to the realization about a month or two later that I was better without her.”

You held the pencil in your hands still, trying to find the words you needed to say. “I, uh, I was dating that guy, TJ. We had been friends for a while and he asked me out and I said yes. Everything was great, you know? And then like almost a year end he starts acting all weird and possessive. Like just because we had been together for so long means he doesn’t have to treat me like his girlfriend anymore. He would make me feel like shit in front of our friends and just all around was being a shitty boyfriend.” Colson stared at you intensely with a frown on his face, eyebrows furrowed.

“A guy should never do that shit to his girl. You don’t deserve that shit, no one does.”

You nodded sadly, “yeah, well, then I found out like 4 months into all of this that he had cheated on me and gotten the girl pregnant so… I ended things real quick.” You let out a sad huff, turning your attention back to the book and continuing your sketch of the beautiful man in front of you. “I was really upset at first but now I’m just kind of angry. Dude was a dick.”

Colson let out a dry laugh as you took a long sip of wine, “sounds like it. I’m sorry you went through that shit.”

You shrugged, smiling up at him, “if I hadn’t, we wouldn’t be here.”

He chuckled, biting his lip, “guess something good came out of it.”

A blush spread across your cheeks, “oh yeah, the food was amazing.” Your words were full of sarcasm, yet the pout on his face still made you giggle, “I’m joking, loser.”

“You better be miss second-date.” You giggled but didn’t respond, turning back to draw him. It was quiet for a few moments, your pencil tracing along the paper.

He shifted, at which you glared up at him, “I told you you’d get bored.”

With a chuckle he said, “I’m not bored. I get to look at you while you draw, it’s far from boring.” You tried to look annoyed at him but failed miserably at his flattering words. “I was thinking though, since it’s my picture and all, I should get to make some executive decisions.”

You scoffed, “you chose your pose, what else would you like oh great model Colson?”

He rolled his eyes playfully, stretching his arm out to set his glass on the table. “Well, I mentioned that I have some tattoos,” he reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it up, “you should draw them.”

Once his shirt was fully removed from his body, you couldn’t help but gawk just a little. His entire chest was covered in ink, designs beautifully engraved into his skin. “I was gonna make a joke about this only being our first date but holy shit, these are beautiful.”

He blushed, looking down shyly, ”I was honestly scared you weren’t gonna like them.”

You looked at him with wide eyes, “Seriously? This is so cool. I’m an artist, you really think I’m not gonna like tattoos? Its an art form in itself.”

Colson shrugged, moving back to his pose, expecting you to continue your drawing. Instead, your eyes wandered his torso, taking in every detail of the work. “If you’re lucky,” he commented slyly, “one day I might show you all of them.”

You rolled your eyes with a scoff, moving back into drawing position, “you think you’re so cool.”

A breathy laugh fell from his lips, “I do, actually.”

The two of you continued banter-laced conversation while you drew him, his likeness coming to life on your page. At some point it turned into 3 am, and you were struggling to keep your eyes opened, but you were finished.

“Here.” You turned the book to him, letting him take in your work. He didn’t speak for a few moments, causing worry to build in you. “I mean, it’s no Mona Lisa but-“

“That is fucking amazing.” He cut you off with a wide smile, “you make me look hot.”

You rolled your eyes with a grin, “I’m not going to feed your ego by saying something super lame like “that’s just what you look like,” but I’m glad you like it.” He chuckled at your response, climbing off of the chair to stand in front of you.

“Damn, I was really hoping to get my ego fed tonight.” He grabbed the sketchbook from you and threw it onto the couch next to you before grabbing your hands and pulling you up to stand.

You smiled to yourself, chest shaking with silent laughter, “does the sketch not feed it enough?”

He shook his head, “I need the approval of a really pretty girl to satisfy its hunger.”

Rolling your eyes, you leaned up into him, “you gotta work harder than that, Rockstar.” Your words came out breathy against his lips as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

His mouth connected to yours, the kiss deep and passionate. His soft lips meshed perfectly with yours, his hands pulling you up to stand on your tiptoes. Once you pulled away you stayed close to him, breathing in his intoxicating scent. He whispered, “I never thought a blind date could turn out so well.”

[volleychumps]

Hi! I really love ur writing and if u still do requests, can you make a scenario where the reader is an artist and asks kuroo, akaashi and tendou to pose for them (maybe naked hueh uee) thank you so much! ❤❤❤❤❤

c u t e- I used the aspect of paint in a lot of them tehe hope you guys don’t mind <3, the endings to these btw? Kinda hot ngl 

Plus these are kinda long to make up for me being gone for a bit aha 

Asking Them To Pose For Your Drawing w/ Kuroo, Akaashi, and Tendou 

warning(s): slight nsfw themes

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

Kuroo

“Knock knock!” 

“Um, hi Kuroo-senpai?” You say it like a question, startled from washing your paint brushes as you quirk an eyebrow at the feral captain leaning against the doorframe, jacket slung over his shoulder with a casual feel to his actions. You cock your head as he whistles, situating himself with the stool before finally meeting your eyes with a grin. 

“Yeah, so Kenma couldn’t make it.” 

“Could he not make it or did you steal this from him?” You sweat drop, a knowing grin tickling your lips as you make small-talk with your friend, hearing the feigned gasp of shock in your ears as you mildly meet his eyes. 

“I’m offended-” 

“Kuroo-senpai, you said no when I asked.” You hum, looking around for your apron before glancing back at him. “Sudden change of heart?” 

“I didn’t say no, I asked what was in it for me.” The captain protests as you resist the urge to palm your face, crossing your arms as you stand in front of your easel. 

“Nothing. Other then helping me with my piece, nothing.” You sigh, tying your hair back while narrowing your eyes. “So will you please tell Kenma I didn’t cancel? He’s willing.” 

“Oho kitten, I wouldn’t say nothing. I get to stare into your pretty eyes while you get to stare right back? That’s something.” Kuroo replies easily, jacket falling to a heap next to the stool as you will your eyes not to follow the clothing. 

“...right.” You roll your eyes at the captain’s flirtatious nature, still a little glad you were able to get your first-choice pick in the first place despite the slight hassle it took. 

“Don’t trip over yourself in excitement-” 

“Aaaand we’re starting.” You step behind the easel, beginning to situate your paints. You go to look around the easel when you’re done, eyes becoming owlish at the sight of Kuroo in the process of pulling his school pants off. At your shriek, Kuroo stops mid-way before lifting his head, a lazy smirk crossing his face before he tilts his head, 

“What are you doing?!” 

“This...this is a nude kinda thing, right?” 

You stare at him blankly before turning around abruptly, trying to keep your head straight before sighing heavily with a hand on your forehead, cursing the heat beneath your skin. How did you end up here?

“Just...I’ll give you three seconds to get all your clothes back on.” 

“All of them?” Kuroo’s voice is whiny as you grow more agitated.

“Yes.” You snap, biting the end of your thumb, feeling an unsteady beat in your chest. The sex appeal of Kuroo Tetsurou was insanely high, and most of it came from his actions- not to mention your little crush on him that had been tame for the most part, unexpected situations like these causing said crush to grow immensely. 

Still, you didn’t think he could be that bold. 

“Sir, that is not all your clothes-” 

“I’m sweaty though.” Kuroo shrugs, winking once before taking a swig of a water bottle, and you’re left dumbfounded before he stops mid-drink, a grin tickling his lips. “Are you gonna keep staring at me or get started? Or should I pour this water on-” 

“I-I’ll get started.” You huff, picking up your first art utensil to begin drawing, instructing him on how to pose. Surprisingly, you get past your embarrassment easily, your face falling to a relaxed nature with a slight furrow to your brows. 

Kuroo couldn’t help but admire the way your hair fell into your face out of it’s knot, a paint-stained hand coming up to brush some of it out of the way while smearing some on your face in the process. He liked messy. 

And that’s just what you were right now, messy and doused in color. 

You gave special attention to the sharp look to his eyes, spending more time than you thought you would after a few looks. When you go to look again, you blink in confusion to see he was no longer in his seat. Before your irritation could grow at his lack of following directions-

“That is some talent.” 

You yelp, spinning around in your seat to face the dark-haired boy who reached an arm out to steady your piece, looking down at you with a lazy grin as he saves your portrait of him, his bare chest pressing to your back while one of his muscular arms remains outreached to your side. Trapped, but not really trapped as his hazel eyes seems to pin you there, your breath hitching in your throat. 

His hands go to smudge at the paint on your face, frowning as you flinch away in embarrassment, tone falling to a serious one. 

“Tell me if I’m crazy, sweetheart, but do you like me the way I do, or am I just batshit insane?” 

At your stutter, the heat that flames your cheeks, and the rattling of the paintbrush as it hits the floor- 

Kuroo grins, cupping your face with a paint-stained hand before closing the distance, one of your hands resting on his chest as you kiss him back shyly. He lets go of the easel to cup your face with both hands to deepen the kiss, grinning when he feels you smile into it while the colors smudge your heated skin- 

the brush rattling to a stop as you pull back, sighing at the feel of Kuroo untying your apron. 

Akaashi

“Need help?” 

Your hands still from behind you to lift your head, smile crossing your face as the setter examines the art room, blue-eyes falling onto yours with a small greeting one of his own. His eyes fall to your hands in the midst of tying your apron as you laugh, spinning around. 

“Be my guest. Thanks so much for doing this, Keiji.” 

“I owe you, Y/N. Ever since high school started you’ve been the only one to keep Bokuto-san on his feet at games.” 

“A kiss on the cheek always gets Bo going.” You giggle, not noticing the ways Akaashi’s hands had stilled for a second before going again. “He’s like a kid, you know?” 

“Such a great kid. Wow.” Enthusiasm drains from his tone as you laugh.

“Keiji.” You begin to scold, only to feel the tightening of your strings as Akaashi hums, spinning you around by the shoulders as his blue eyes seem to keep you in place for a second, taking in your features with your hair pulled back. 

You chuckle nervously. “What?” 

Akaashi hesitates, sighing before letting you go and looking off to the side. “Is this where you want me?” 

“Akaashi, it might take a little bit-” 

“Akaashi?” 

“...Keiji.” You correct yourself, smiling at the way the furrow between the setter’s brows disappeared. Standing before him, you adjust the way you want him to pose, tongue poking out of the corner of your mouth as you did so. You grin when you achieve what you want, sitting in front of your easel while picking up your ink. 

“You ready? I need you to stay that way for awhile.” 

He nods, doing as he’s told as you immerse yourself in your work, ten minutes later that immersed expression becoming one of irritation as the setter takes his chance to speak. 

“Is everything alright?” 

“Clothes are a bit hard for me...don’t worry about it though- Keiji what on earth are you doing?” 

You blink, bewildered as the setter’s shirt gets flung to the side- your eyes following the material as Akaashi settles back into the pose as if nothing had happened, tilting his head at the pink that floods your cheeks. He hides his smirk with his hand at your flushed expression. 

“Better? That should be a bit easier, right?” 

“Keiji- to put it nicely, what the fuck-” 

“Shush.” Akaashi rolls his eyes playfully at your words as you try to keep your thoughts level, the look of Akaashi’s toned arms and chest complimenting his v-line perfectly. He was the perfect model. 

A perfect model you had to hide hidden feelings for with the sake of your friendship in mind. 

“Don’t call me a pervert.” You warn, voice uneasy before going back to your painting as Akaashi’s smirk only grows. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

The heat from your cheeks fades as time passes on, the portrait coming out quite nicely with only the minor details to fill in that can be done without the model. You give him a thumbs up after about an hour, the outline finally done and ready for color as you set your ink down. 

“Done?” 

“Finally done.” You stretch, Akaashi falling to a more relaxed position with a short exhale, causing you to frown before pulling an icy water bottle from the fridge nearby. He looks up when you press it against his cheek, meeting his tired stare with a warm one. 

“Thanks for doing this, Keiji.” A tinge at your chest. “You’re a really good friend.” 

Akaashi stills at that word, not being able to stop the downward tug at his lips as you untie your apron before beginning to turn around so your back is to him. 

“Want to get some food? My treat-” 

“Y/N.” 

Toned arms reach out before he realizes it, wrapping gently around your waist to hug you to him, a surprised sound slipping your lips as the setter’s lips speak against the small of your back. 

“A-Akaashi?!” 

“Akaashi?” He whispers softly, and you shiver at the feel of it before biting your lip. You never would have imagined this situation would fall in your favor. 

“Keiji, what-?” 

“Remember when you asked me to stay like that for awhile?” He murmurs, holding you a little tighter as the messy-haired boy feels a surge of confidence at your nervous tremble. “Let me do the same.” 

You stop trembling, letting out a breath you knew you were holding before turning around, your hands resting on Akaashi’s shoulders as he looks up at you the way he always looked at you. 

With love. 

“How long?” You ask softly, the side of Akaashi’s lips quirking up ever so slightly as his arms drape around your waist naturally. 

“Since the start of our first high school year.” 

You smile, Akaashi easily pulling you into his lap as you tense up at the movement, heat flooding your cheeks yet again as Akaashi clasps his hands under the small of your back, blue-green eyes taking in your ink-stained features. He listens patiently for your response, and your voice is quieter than ever as one of your fingers trace his chiseled jaw, ink on your fingers leaving a small trail.

His chest was hot as your lips hover over his. 

“Then I guess it’s a good thing I don’t want to be friends anymore, is it?” 

“Then what do you want to be?” Akaashi’s voice is dazed as you smile, hands resting on his bare chest. 

“Best friends.” 

Akaashi rolls his eyes, putting a hand on the back of your hair to kiss you with a fervor unkown as the ink on your fingers leave marks on his bare skin as he speaks against your lips. 

“Best friends don’t do this.”

As his hand gently tugs your hair out of it’s knot, his tongue slipping into your mouth as his shirt remains forgotten against the wall. 

Tendou

“Yoo-Hoo~” 

“Tendou, you’re late.” You sigh, looking up from adjusting your easel as the redhead pouts, coming over to help you adjust it. Tendou slips both of his hands into his hoodie pockets, frowning when he sees that you were still wearing your school uniform. 

“Hon, you’ve got paint stains already on your uniform.” 

“Don’t hon me, Satori.” You retort, mixing some colors on a pallete before narrowing your eyes at your best friend who replies with an easy grin before you look down again. “The art club sent the aprons to get washed, but I need to get this piece done-” 

“Boo you pulled out my real name.” 

Tendou ignores your shocked look when he snatches the pallete from you, holding it up arms reach before draping his hoodie across your face. You take the hooded material off with a glare, the redhead smirking in his shirtless glory back down at you. 

“Wear it. I don’t like it anyways.” 

“How kind, considering you probably stole it from Semi-” 

“Details, details!” Tendou waves it off as you shrug the material on, the scent of Tendou filling your nose as he hums, helping you tie your hair back for you in a way that was almost sweet-

“Tendou, you know you’re ass at doing my hair.” 

“You act like guys are supposed to know how, missy.” 

“Good thing you’re not a guy to me, mister.” You reply, lying as if you weren’t completely and helplessly in love with your best friend. Tendou’s hands freeze up before he pulls your hair through the final loop, clearing his throat before crossing his arms to face you seriously. 

“My body is ready.” 

“Just go sit down!” You push him, Tendou’s cackling filling the air as you roll your eyes, still smiling widely at his antics that interrupted the awkward silence. Settling down in front of your easel, you face palm at Tendou’s stupid-ass pose as he looks at you as if he had just won a prize. 

“Like this?” 

“Satori, I will walk out this door-” 

“You must be real fun at parties.” 

“It’s hard to be fun at parties when you’re the fun one at parties, so I have to be the responsible one.”

“Touche.” 

You shake your head, actually beginning the drawing and getting really far, despite Tendou’s annoying tendencies. 

“You starin’ at my abs? Should I feel harassed or complimented?” 

“Y/N...is that...a blush I see?! Because of lil old me?” 

“Y/N...Y/N I bet you’re feeling a tickle on your cheek.” 

“Y/N, you’re hot when you draw-” 

“Satori!” You groan, an hour of Tendou’s shiteating comments finally coming to a stop as you turn the portrait on him, tired look in your eyes from both him and the concentration as a proud grin crosses your lips. 

“I did it.” 

Tendou blinks at how well-drawn the portrait was, swallowing back his compliments. Was he really that...attractive? 

“...Bout time, I’m hungry.” 

“At least say something!” You swat at his bare arm, Tendou laughing chaotically as you groan and walk over to the sink, pouting over-dramatically as Tendou sighs in response. 

“Sunshine, don’t do this.” 

“Tendou I spent an hour drawing your ugly ass-” 

“Ugly ass? My ass? Ugly? Excuse me-” 

“-at least be grateful.” You finish with a huff, and Tendou stalls when you pull his hoodie sleeves up. The hoodie had been rightfully his in the first place, and the sight of you tugging the sleeves up to wash your hands had the redhead wetting his lips at the sight. The hem of his hoodie draped around the upper portion of your thighs, just covering your school skirt that gave the illusion of his hoodie being the only thing you were wearing. 

And that was all it took. 

“What do you want to eat, you jerk-” 

You’re cut off at the feel of Tendou’s arms wrapping around your waist from behind, the redhead digging his face into the juncture between your shoulder and neck with a sigh. His bare back presses against your clothed back as your chest begins to pound. 

“Satori.” Your voice comes out as a whisper as Tendou’s mumbles into your skin. 

“Do you really not see me as a guy?” 

You freeze. 

“What would it take, huh?” 

His hold tightens. 

“Can I make you fall for me the way you made me?” 

The seriousness of his tone had you turning gently in his hold, your thumb swiping over the redhead’s cheek as you eye him, fragility in your eyes. 

“Are you being serious right now, Satori?” 

“Depending on your answer, yes and no.” 

You roll your eyes, smiling as Tendou pulls you in closer by tightening his hold, your noses brushing as your voice falls to a hush. 

“You don’t need to make me fall.” Your voice falls to a hush as you smile, kissing the tip of his nose softly. 

“Because you already did.” 

And then you were placed on the counter, Tendou stepping between your legs heatedly to cup your face with one hand, his other one gripping your waist tightly as his lips capture yours. His touch was fierce and hungry, lips moving against yours like a man starved as you merely whimpered into his mouth. 

He pulls at the material of the hoodie, whispering almost angrily against your lips as his hand slides up your bare thigh.

“As much as you look all cute in my hoodie hon, let’s get it off.” 

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

General Works: @takemetovalhalla @savemesteeb @kasandrafaye @dreebbles @yams046 @aprettyfruit @therestless101 @dai-tsukki-desu @lifeisntjustblackandwhite @curiouslilbeast @wisepandaslimeland @deadontheinsidebut @lmkjimin @h0ngh0ngh0ng @theworldupthere @itz-tooru @orangegiraffe7 @let-me-have-my-own-name

[systematicfailure]

Counting Days

Paring: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: You never had a reason to count days when you thought you still had all the time in the world.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death, grief

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: Wager a listen to Choke by OneRepublic while reading. Anyways, hope y'all enjoy.

You learn to start counting days once she’s gone.

The first few come and go in shock, the piece of you that refuses to believe the truth of it all, makes a second plate of breakfast in the morning and the several that follow. She was going to come back, you were sure of it. You just have to be patient.

Day thirteen is different from the ones before.

Time is precious and grief is suffocating, you finally realize - you feel foolish for never noticing. A more forgiving part of you rationalizes that there was no way of knowing how little of it you had but then the grief sets in, all encompassing - it latches onto your limbs, pulling you further away from the light she so easily brought you. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. The heroes won but if that was the case, then why did it feel like you just lost everything?

Your life turns into a series of maybes and what ifs. You recognize that you’re bargaining, trying so desperately to replay that day to find something to change or tweak, another path that leads her back to you. It hurts more than you care to admit but the record keeps spinning, and in between one alteration and another, you fall asleep in a bed that is now only yours.

You dream of her.

There’s a glimmer in her eyes and you hate that even in your dreams, you compare it to the dull, unseeing emeralds in the haunting dying embers of night. The image is fleeting as she turns slightly, rays of sunlight peeking through half open blinds, illuminating her features. A familiar smirk lays across her face, hands moving up to dust the bangs from her forehead.

“Staring is rather rude, you know?” She teases, a light chuckle touching the tip of her tongue.

“I just don’t want to forget.” Natasha quirks an eyebrow at your response. Shaking her head, she follows the movement of your frantic irises, a question rising in the way her mouth crinkles at the corners. You ignore it, standing up from the bed before closing the short distance to her. Nose tucking into her neck, you breathe in the underlying scent of cherry blossoms and tangerines. You know it's just a dream, know deep in your bones it’s not real but as your head cranes back, her eyes of worry tracing each inch of you, you let yourself believe, even for a moment, that when you wake up she’ll still be there.

She isn’t.

When you wake it’s unbearably dark. Your motions are sluggish as you stumble out of the confining sheets and down the elevator to the front entrance of the compound. A scream gains traction in your vocal chords, fighting its way past your lips as you throw your scorching body against the wet pavement outside. How many times were you going to do this? How many times were you going to lose her? How many more days? When was enough, enough? The second the thought surfaces, you feel selfish. The answer would always be the same.

As many times as it took. You freely put the shackles on because there ceases to be a day that exists where she’s not worth every last bit of this agony that swallows you whole.

You carefully right your position, drawing your aching chest into your knees and you remember her.

Dawn is on the horizon when you finally shuffle your weight off the ground. Shivering, you keep your eyes to the floor as you enter the kitchen. What remains of the Avengers linger at your reappearance but do not pose a question when you make two cups of coffee instead of one. They know it’s a habit you’re not quite ready to break yet. Vaguely, your head tilts their way as you exit. You don’t have enough left in you to do anything more.

When you reach your bedroom door, you falter. It’s still partially open from your earlier haste to get away and everything comes crashing down once again. Both ceramic mugs tumble to the concrete when you catch sight of the worn, brown leather jacket. It’s all too much and wholly not enough, rolled into one. You can’t take it anymore. Ghosts are chasing and nipping at your heels; the smell of her lingers in hallways and rooms, random items of clothing hanging in closets and lying atop of chairs, memories bombarding at every turn.

You need to leave, at least for a little while -- not forever but long enough.

A snarky fragment of your consciousness mocks you when you bring a box of her things, lamenting the irony of taking memories you’re trying to leave behind. You huff out loud in response, continuing to put it with the rest of your stuff anyways before shutting the trunk. The rest of the team waits patiently to bid their goodbyes. After over an hour, there’s only Clint left. You eye each other patiently, sizing the other up before identical, miserable grins stretch into place.

“Take care of yourself, yeah?” You say because you really, truthfully mean it. You don’t blame him, not anymore at least but you know a significant portion of himself always will. He gives you a barely perceptible nod, pain licking his eyes in a faint mist. Without hesitation, your arms wrap his shoulders, pulling him close. He seizes at the motion before returning the gesture ten-fold, the strength of it crushing the breath in your diaphragm.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispers brokenly into your hair, fingers gripping your sides. Your body tightens around him in a squeeze as a response before you ease away from him. Tears gather and collect in his eyelashes, falling briefly but he’s quick to swipe them dry. A sigh escapes you then, long and drawn out as the backs of your cornea’s burn at the weight of all you both had lost. “As am I, Clint.”

When the compound fades from your rearview mirror, you finally loosen the captive hold you have on your sobs. They come out silent at first but it’s not long before you’re choking on each exhale, chest rattling with the force it takes to regain a semblance of oxygen in your caving lungs.

You think you might never be okay again and it terrifies you.

At first, roaming the world does help ease the ever persistent ache you feel. The days blur and melt together. You never stay in one place more than a week, the constant need to run as far as your legs can take you keeps the thoughts at bay. You avoid Ohio, taking a ship to Ireland instead. Eventually, you find yourself in Italy, in a small rural town with more hills than people but there’s a familiar voice in the back of your mind, prodding you to realize that you’re doing something wrong and you hate yourself for not figuring it out sooner.

You don’t remember when it happened but somewhere between leaving and now, you stopped counting. It’s a betrayal you had no idea you were capable of, it feels like forgetting and the last thing you want to do is forget her.

You force yourself to stop running and the ache you welcome back resembles coming home.

Finally, you visit Ohio. It's gut wrenching and painful but worth it in the end when you find them, her family. They tell you stories you won’t dare forget. You come to the conclusion that people are liars, grief does not lessen or fade, it just becomes more manageable to bear. Your soul is still hollow, ghosts don’t stop nipping at your heels but when you see her in your dreams, you tell her you’ll find her again, in another life, and you’ll get the happy ending you both deserve.

You don’t go back to New York.

You plant saplings in the fields of Ohio, by a house made for two, that you nurture with aging hands and you watch them flourish into breathtaking creatures of nature. Their limbs and branches stretched towards one another, forever intertwined.

You learn to love counting days, especially when it leads you back to her.