#I’d be down to drawing it again whenever more episodes drop!

[chloesimaginationthings]

Have you watched TADC(The Amazing Digital Circus)? Have you drawn any of the characters? And most importantly whos your fav :D Mine is Jax. He's like me but male.

I have! I’ve drawn only Pomni so far! My favourite is Kinger funnily enough

#ask reply #you’d think my favourite would be pomni then but no #it’s kinger he’s funny #first drawing is all those characters share a VA #and the second I gave pomni a stand BAHAH #I’d be down to drawing it again whenever more episodes drop!

[writing-in-april]

Origins

Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: Reader feels homesick after a particularly gruesome case. Spencer can’t buy a plane ticket, but he can try to help recreate part of home with them.

A/N: hey heyyyy- this is my eighth fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April- I’m very nervous for this one to be honest- idk if it’s going to be a lot of peoples cup of tea- this one had me researching a lot lol since I have no clue about boats at all lol- I hope I did the request at least a bit of justice (sorry in advance if I fuck up any terms or anything) but I think I did pretty well with my research (I think). I originally got the request from @imagining-in-the-margins when she handed it over to me also thanks for some help on the folklore parts too! Here it is-

I always want to hear from you guys so feel free to drop me an ask here- and hopefully y’all enjoy!!

Warnings: ~disclaimer lol I know nothing about boating~ Anyway into the other warnings- Takes place directly after season 3 episode 8 (Lucky with Floyd Feylinn) Spencer gets really fucking sea sick- poor baby, Reader is from overseas (originally Cornwall in the request but I made it a bit more vague) and Reader’s father is a fisherman

Main Masterlist Word Count: 1.8k

The air that floated around whenever I was out on the water, salty sea water or fresh salt water always seemed to breath life back into my lungs. The river that we were boating on was quite salty near its widest point, tides brought the saltwater in to mix with the fresh making the water quite brackish.

I was lucky to still live somewhat near water after I had moved over to America. I hadn’t had the luxury of picking exactly where I was going to live and work when I transferred to the FBI, I just happened to draw all the right cards. With my schedule I didn’t go out on the water as much as I used to, definitely not as often as I had as a child. I yearned often to feel the specific type of air people only felt when on the water, especially when my job got particularly gruesome.

Gruesome was a way to define the last case my team and I had been brought in to investigate. My stomach churned at the thought of our last unsub, his name couldn’t leave my mind and the images of his heinous acts certainly didn’t leave either. Floyd Feylinn Ferell had been his name, though I wished I could forever scrub it from my memory. His crimes were too vile that everything seemed to trigger a memory, specifically of the frozen corpses.

The team had even noticed how affected I was by the case, often sending me worrying looks whenever it looked like blood drained from my face over sheer shock- just like the corpses. Cases had been gruesome before, sure, but there was something about this one made me feel frozen by fear.

I needed air, and not just any old air.

Homesickness was another factor that was making me feel so ill. I hadn’t been back to my home in so long, the only time I spoke with my father was over the phone, no video chats at all. He was just as technophobic as Spencer, maybe even more so to be honest. My father’s life as a fisherman hadn’t made him exceptionally tech savvy. He did know how to work a phone now thanks to you, which was another similarity to him and Spencer. I had helped Spencer learn how to work his new smartphone just last week.

Spencer, my lovely boyfriend of a few months, wanted to help quell my dark thoughts as best as he could with all of his knowledge. His first solution was to always revert to books, which I didn’t mind, it only made him more special to me. He tried to find books that would remind me of home- and get my mind off of gruesome cases that were closed and shut cases.

Hotch had then suggested the team take a day off, just one. After weeks of back to back cases with little to no reprieve we’d finally get some time alone, even if it was only for a day. All I needed was one day to get on the water and cleanse myself of the negative thoughts I had been feeling lately.

It was actually Spencer that had first suggested this excursion. He had come to one of our dates with his arms full of pamphlets all about renting a boat for the day. He also had definitely read up about boats, I’d expect nothing less of Spencer. I had learned it was his way of subtly showing affection, researching anything that I even was passively interested in.

Spencer packed even more than I did when we set off on the day long date, packing to the brim at least one too many bags- to be honest he packed two too many bags.

Once we had gotten the boat out into the water, the relief was almost instant. It was like my body knew I was home. I wasn’t actually at home of course, but it somehow knew I was near the water again. Honestly, Spencer hadn’t been far off when he called me a mermaid on one of our first dates, I had gone on a ramble about my love for it.

The water wasn’t nearly as clear as where I had grown up, much more dull in my opinion. But, the breeze that danced across my skin as well as the water made me feel more at home then I had been in a long time. After letting the mist spray onto my cheeks for a while I looked over to check on Spencer, who was not doing well by the looks of it.

Spencer’s face was twisted up in a grimace, not used to being in a boat. Until I had asked him a few weeks ago, to make sure it would be safe to go out on the water with him, I hadn’t even been sure he could swim. I also wasn’t that surprised that he had this reaction, it would have been less of a problem if it was a boat that I had picked out and bought. But, I’d take what I’d get if only to be by the water.

He pretended to hide his urge to dry heave over the side of the small boat that I had rented for the weekend. He looked almost green at this point, I knew he was only staying for my benefit at this point making me a tad bit sad. Water definitely seemed to have the opposite effect on Spencer compared to me, being on the water always felt like instant relaxation to me.

I still, however, didn’t want him to feel any major discomfort like he was obviously feeling so I decided to pipe up since he wouldn’t tell me himself, “Are you sure you’re ok enough to stay, Spencer?”

He pulled his life vest around himself as tight as he could while crossing his arms around his stomach. It took him a second to answer and in that time I almost started to turn the boat around back to the bay.

“I’m fine!” He squeaked out and I could see a shiver run through him. If I had offered to turn the boat around he’d most definitely have given me a glare, not wanting me to turn it around for his own sake. I squinted my eyes in suspicion, he was not completely fine obviously, but if he was insistent on staying maybe I could find something to distract him from it.

“Do you want to hear a sea shanty or do you want me to tell a regular story?” I asked out into the wind, thinking that might distract him from his nausea.

“A story, but you can’t call them regular stories.” He teased back as well as he could with the urge to dry heave, as if he didn’t know what I had meant. I scooted a little closer to him before I prepared myself to tell my story.

Selkies were always the ones I started out with whenever I told the stories I had grown up with. Despite its dark undertones I had latched onto the story as a child, finding it similar to the mainstream perception of what mermaids were. Though I’m reality seals that could transform into humans were a far cry from mainstream ideas of mermaids, a Merrow would have been a better comparison.

I always gave Spencer the origins of the story, he liked to know exactly where they had come from and how I had heard about the story in the first place, “As you know by now the folklore about Selkie’s originates from Scotland. Well- let me think about what I haven’t told you about Selkies before…” I pondered for a moment before remembering an aspect of the Selkies powers I hadn’t educated Spencer on yet. There was no doubt in my mind that he probably had all this information stored away in his brain somewhere, it was nice to know that someone genuinely cared about the stories I liked to tell. “Selkies are immortal, but they can be killed by other creatures. And I know I’ve told you that part, but I haven’t told you that they are generally killed by sharks when they are in seal form.”

I then went into the whole lore surrounding Selkie’s immortality. My hands were waving around animatedly as I talked, just like how the small waves were rocking our boat. They had definitely calmed down by now, hopefully Spencer would feel better soon.

Once I finished my tale I beamed over at him, my mood had brightened significantly over this trip, even though I could sense that Spencer’s had not. Though the story might have helped, he seemed a little less sickly now. He then managed to ask again without puking, “Could you tell another story? Maybe about the Kelpies? Or the Pixies of Cornwall? You can pick anything though really, I love listening to your stories.”

My heart swelled enough from his words that I thought it might burst. I wouldn’t have expected anything less of Spencer, he always hunted for more knowledge about things he was maybe more ignorant about compared to other topics.

I opted to then tell him about the Kelpies, who were also water dwelling creatures, before moving onto the pixies. He even seemed to be getting attached to the same stories that you favored as a child, and even as an adult.

I looked over at him as I finished my last little bit of information that I felt I could muster up today. A smile filled with fondness crept onto my face, his fluffy hair strewn about. It was cute despite his lingering sea sickness.

His face was remarkably less green now, my stories must have soothed him which made me feel heat run to my cheeks. Each time Spencer took interest in my origins I felt deeper feelings bubbling up, that were more than what we had expressed yet. Instead of voicing my full feelings just yet, I leaned forward to give him a chaste kiss on the forehead. He may have not looked green anymore, but I’d wait to give him a kiss on the lips until after we got back to shore, just in case something was to happen.

“Can you sing now?” I knew that he was not requesting me to sing any silly old song. He wanted me to sing the sea shantys that my father had taught me as a child. Not that I minded his request, I’d do anything to make him happier and I loved singing them anyway.

I smiled brightly as I guided the boat back to shore while I sang, already feeling lighter. It had not just been the water this time that made me feel better, it was also because of Spencer. He had taken so much care to help me feel more connected with home, loving to learn about your origins.

Ask Me Anything

—-

Tag lists (message me if you want to be added):

All works: @shotarosleftpinky @oreogutz @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg @takeyourleap-of-faith I’m sorry 😭

All MGG characters: @muffin-cup @willowrose99

Spencer Reid/CM: @calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes @onlyhereforthefanfics @jareauswifey

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds x reader #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler fluff #matthew gray gubler #mgg #mgg x reader #criminal minds #30 fics in 30 days

[storydays]

Season 1, Episode 1,P1

You snickered as you teased Oogie with an apple over his head, making him do a barrel roll in the air, startling the Airbender family into waking up. "Well, glad to see your awake, cause we're about thirty minutes out." "(Y/N), you haven't been up all night again, have you?" Pema asked, a frown on her lip as Tenzin took the reigns and gently blasted you in the back with your crazy cousins. "I-I couldn't sleep." You began handing out the dumplings you and Pema had made. Tenzin sighed as Meelo was suddenly biting his head, with a sudden burst of energy as Ikki began asking constant questions, making the 30 minutes seem even longer.

"Jinora, Ikki, mind helping me out?" You asked with a grin, at the girl's excitement. They loved doing your hair. You sighed softly, as they got to work fixing your hair so it was similar to a water tribe style, with braids placed here and there, before finally putting it in a low pony tail at the base of your neck. Finally, the village was in sight. And you know that waiting for you was your dear Grandmother. You grinned as you used your glider to reach her before your cousins, hearing your cousins cry out in annoyance. "Hey, no fair!" They cried indignantly. Your laughter echoed in their ears as you flew down where you sensed Gran-Gran's energy. Her blue eyes sparkled as she watched you land in front of her.

Gran-Gran laughed joyously as you brushed the snow off your body, flinching as the snow melted against your skin. "Aah! It's colder than a witches tit out here!" You cry out, dropping your glider, in exchange for getting the water out of your clothes, before smiling crookedly at your grinning grandmother. "Sorry for the language, Gran." She chuckled before engulfing you into a hug. "Your grandfather used to say much worse." You took a step back, sliding your glider into the holder on your back. She gently brushed your bangs back, smiling at your bright blue arrows. You had earned your arrows when you were 6 years old, due to your discovery of creating ice puppets out of drawings. 

You had also earned the title of Waterbending Master and Healer when you were eight. 

Making your family proud of you. 

 "Gran-gran, are you trying to make me face Ikki and Jinora's wrath?" You asked, hiding your arrows again. You didn't like the attention that your arrows brought you, and Korra wasn't aware of you gaining them either. You wanted to see how long until she realized it. Which surprised you, as you've been friends with her since you were a year old and she was just born. 

You snap to attention when your grandmother started to speak, "You've grown into a handsome young man, (Y/N). You're strong and goofy like your father, but agile and gentle like your mother." You smile, rubbing your thumb over your father's ring, and your other hand grasped your mother's pendent underneath your airbender robe. It was one of the material things you had left of your mom, but the memories you made with her, are things no one or anything can replace or change.

Your moment was ruined when Oogie landed with a grunt. You could hear Uncle Tenzin talking over Ikki's chipper voice. "Yes, Ikki. As I have been telling you for the last 15 minutes, we are finally here." The three kids cheered as the girls used air scooters to slide down the bison's tail to get off, following their father, who walked tiredly over to you two. "Hello, Mother. I can't tell you how happy I am to see you. Please help me." Tenzin glared at you as snickered. "Hmph, thanks for the help, (Y/N)." The older Waterbender chuckled, as she picked up her youngest grandson. "Unhand me, strange woman!" Meelo cried, flapping around, in Katara's grip.

"That's our grandmother, Meelo." You chuckle as Meelo blush and flipped out of the Waterbending master's hands, and over to play with Ikki as Jinora ran over. "Gran-Gran, I've been reading all about your old adventures. I've been dying to ask you! What happened to Zuko's mom?" She asked clasping her hands together, looking at Katara expectantly. "Well, Jinora, it's an incredible tale--" You didn't even blink as Ikki suddenly hopped in front of Katara's view. "Gran-Gran, you look old! How old are you? And why is it so cold in the South Pole? Can we make a campfire and all huddle around it and tell scary stories and make snowmen? And then can we make the snowmen move with waterbending and chase us? Wouldn't that be fun? Huh, wouldn't it?" You patted Jinora, who was clearly disappointed and sadden she wouldn't get her question answered yet.

You then used waterbending to make an Ikki snowgirl and began moving her in a circle, before laughing loudly. "Sure was fun to me!" You mocked, before the airbender kids decided to chase you. "Wait! My bad!" You cry out as they began gaining on you. Tenzin chuckled before noting Pema slowly sliding down Oogie's back, before rushing over to her. "Pema, let me help you." He grabbed her hand in his, and braced her back against his hand. "Careful now, careful." "Stop doting on me. I'm not helpless, I'm just pregnant." She chided, looking down lovingly at her bump. She loved her husband, but this was her fourth pregnancy, you'd think he'd calmed down by now.

She smiled when her mother-in-law moved forward to hug her. Backing away slowly, Katara placed a hand on her bulging stomach. "The baby's strong. I see another airbender in your future. Pema frowned slightly, before speaking up, startling Katara and Tenzin. "All I want is one child like me. A nice non-bender, who doesn't blast wind in my face every five seconds." Katara chuckled knowingly, as Tenzin pulled at his beard thoughtfully. "Mommy, look!" Meelo called, making the adults look at them. 

Meelo was a snowman, Jinora was air-skating, and Ikki was building a misshapen snowman. "I'm a snowbender!" The child twirled around, sending snow onto Pema, who rose an eyebrow at her son's antics. Turning to the giggling Waterbender, she asked,"Were Tenzin and his siblings this crazy when they were kids?" Deeming it was safe, you landed next to your Gran-Gran, as your grandmother began speaking. "Kya and Bumi certainly were.But Tenzin has always been rather...serious." Katara winked at you and a giggling Pema."Mother..please." Tenzin stated monotone, before peeking behind you with a well hidden gin. 

You were well aware of the girl behind you, but didn't react until her feet left the ground, and your hands moved on their own. You created a snow beanbag chair that caught the surprised girl. You use airbending to hover over a pouting waterbender. "Heyy Korra. " You grinned at her pout. "Aw, how'd you know I was behind you?" She asked, as you gently let her down, and hugged her properly. "I could sense your movement in the air." You let go as she huffed jokingly. "Korra..look at you, so big and strong. You've grown into quiet the young Avatar." Tenzin placed his hands on her shoulders and looked down at her with a proud smile. "Master Tenzin, I'm so glad you're here!" She started, with an eager grin. 

You frown at your uncle's wince. "Yes, well..." He hesitated before looking at Pema, who pushed him forward. "You're going to have to tell her sooner or later." "Wait, tell me what?" Korra asked, her excitement gone. "You're not staying, are you?" Gran-Gran spoke up. Tenzin sighed sadly, as Korra wore an heartbroken expression."I'm afraid not, we're only staying the night. Then I must return to Republic City." "But no, you're supposed to move here..You're supposed to teach me!" "I'm sorry, Korra. Your Airbending training is going to have to wait." Tenzin said solemnly. 

--That night--

"So, how long until you're ready to teach me?" Korra asked at dinner. "A week, a month?" "It could be much longer." You popped a dumpling in your mouth as Korra continued to ask questions. "I don't understand. Why are you making me wait?" "I have a responsibility to Republic City. I'm one of its leaders, and the situation there is very unstable right now. "But you also have a responsibility to teach me. Believe me, I'd be happy to find another airbending tea-" Korra stopped, and looked at you. You were currently feeding your little companion hiding underneath the table. 

Sensing eyes on you, you looked up to find everyone looking at you. "What? Nevermore isn't hurting anyone." Everyone smiled at your bliss. "I didn't even know you brought Nevermore, (Y/N). Where was she hiding?" The baby dragon crawled into your lap, begging for more. "Wait, what if (Y/N) stays here and teaches me the basics of the spiritual side?" "Huh?" You question as your uncle shot the idea down quickly. "No, (Y/N) has his own responsibilities to handle. I wish there were another way." Frustrated, Korra stormed out into the cold, and you counted to 10 before following her with Nevermore, chirping on your shoulder. 

You found Korra talking to Naga angrily. "...don't understand it, Naga!" She didn't notice your presence until you cleared your throat, sensing she calmed down enough to listen to logic. "Oh, hey, (Y/N). How long have you been standing there?" She asked, sitting on a rock. "Long enough. I didn't come here to pick sides, but I do have a suggestion." You knelt in front of her, and gave a soft smile. "Sneak away, tomorrow morning after we leave. If you keep waiting for permission, you're never going to get anything done. You'll be known as Korra, the Safe Avatar." You smirked to yourself, knowing she was thinking over your words. "See ya in the morning,Korra." 

You left her, before walking to the edge of the water, closed your eyes and slowly began dancing, moving your arms and hips, imitating the waves. The ocean began glowing colors, matching your aura, turning different shades of purple. You were surprised to see this new color; whenever you did this, the water stayed the various shades of blue. "Your aura has changed, child." You smile, seeing your Gran Gran standing behind you with a smile. "Hey Gran, I was just--"(Y/N), you don't need to explain yourself to me." She sat down, and patted the snow next to her, and your curled into her side. 

She began stroking your nose with her pinky finger, and humming softly, just like your mother used to. "Rest now. You've got quiet an adventure ahead of you." You smile and listen and somehow find yourself in a dreamless sleep.

--The Next Morning--

You kissed your grandmother's cheek goodbye, and hopped onto Oogi as Tenzin gently commanded him. "Oogi, yip, yip." The bison groaned lowly, before taking off. Your cousins continued waving goodbye to the South Pole, but you caught Korra's eye.  You smirk, before quickly sending a note into her hand. She tilted her head, curious as to what you wrote, and there in your fancy neat handwriting, was a simple: 

'When you come to Republic City, look for the pro-bending gym, and find two guys named Mako and Bolin, and enjoy the show. 

                                                                                                              Catch ya later, (Y/N).'

#legend of korra imagine #lok x reader #lok mako x male reader #legend of korra #legend of korra x reader

[cearamorran]

I'm sorry if this is rude and you don't have to answer if it feels too invasive, but how did you find out you might have ADHD? Because I'm kind of wondering if I might have it too (some friends were concerned and said maybe I should get it checked out), but I'm not too sure I should since it feels like if I really have it then it should've been a bigger problem much sooner? Don't wanna waste professionals' times and all. What kind of symptoms did you have and how was the topic brought up?

It’s okay, I’m glad to be of help if I can! I might not be the most knowlegdeable on the matter, and all of this is only my own experience, so i’d recommand doing your own research as well.

This might be a little long, sorry ^^'

Actually it was right here on tumblr that I learned about it in the first place. It started with reading posts where they mentioned it and its symptoms and i was like “wow, sounds rough :/”

It was only after reading about it more that i realized that it fit me a little too well. My whole life flashed before my eyes and it was a “oh my god that explains everything” moment.

I also had my doubts at first, because I thought everybody was just Like That. I think it’s common not to even realize you might have it because you just grow up learning ways to go around it, you know? and also it’s not like society is any help. When I was young I was actually one of those High Potential kids (here in Switzerland it’s what they’re called, i’m not sure what’s the name elsewhere ) so my teachers and my parents KNEW there was something up with me, but basically they dealt with that by trying to make me switch class ONCE, and when that didn’t work (because I was a stubborn ass kid and just completely stopped working until they put me back in my old class with my friends) they just went “oh well, guess that didn’t work :/” and i spent the rest of my school years getting progressively worse at studying and learning.

Symptoms for me were that basically I couldn’t work on something that didn’t interest me. Reading anything for school was impossible, I zoned out every three sentences. Maths were - still are - incomprehensible to me (and on top of it my teacher was a psychopath. to this day i go into flight or fight mode whenever i’m presented with even the stupidest math problems. though maybe that’s just a gay thing lmao)

Hyperfixations are a big thing for me. The first one that I can remember was when I was thirteen. I’d just gotten access to the wonders of internet back then, and I discovered.... Sonic. I was that kid, yes. So every day I lived and breathed Sonic. All day at school, the only thing I could think about was going home to get on the computer and watch SonicX episodes, draw my Sonic OCs and write my Sonic self-insert fanfics. I just thought everyone started vibrating out of their skin when they liked something, you know? I wrote novels about me and sonic going on adventures but i couldnt write three words for that presentation i was supposed to give the next day

I also go through a cicle of extremely efficient and completely apathetic, i’ve found. (though maybe that’s more like a depression thing than an ADHD thing, but my anxiety/depression and ADHD are definitely linked to each other anyway) It definetely shows in my chaotic history on this blog. My jaytim week from like four years ago, when I posted whole ass comics every DAY?? i was on a roll, and then my hyperfixation died down and i entered Anxiety Territory.

So yeah, those are the most obvious things for me, but there are tons of other things that won’t come to mind right now. Since it’s been a part of me for my whole life it’s literally MADE me who i am today. but i know symptoms can vary a lot from one person to the other, and not every one deals with it in the same way.

If you think you might have it and can get it checked out, i would definitely go for it. Professionals are here for that, you wouldn’t be wasting their time. And it’s not because you’re functional that it can’t impact your life. I suffered my way all the way through to high school before dropping out, but if someone had told me I had ADHD back then and helped me out, maybe I would have gone to college, (unlikely because i am very much an artist at heart, but I at least would have had the opportunity) maybe my traumatized ass wouldn’t have a mental breakdown over the mere mention of picking up my studies again.

Anyway, when I found out there actually might be a real thing(TM) going on with me and it wasn’t just me being stupid I might have cried a little.

So yeah, I hope this can help, and sorry for the novel-size answer ^^

[clonewarsarchives]

BACK WITH A BANG! (#120, SEP 2010)

CG Lighting and Effects Supervisor Joel Aron’s history at Industrial Light & Magic gives him the expertise to create the astonishing look of Star Wars: The Clone Wars. He explains his work on the show to Jonathan Wilkins.

What does a CG lighting and effects supervisor do?

It's a job that's unique to Star Wars: The Clone Wars. A CG supervisor is the nerd on the show that knows how all the strings are tied together in order to keep it running. The role encompasses lighting and effects, and I've done lighting almost my entire career, and I've done effects my entire career, so it kind of blended together! The lighting part of job is making each episode look the way that we want it to look. For the effects, I have to make sure we're not making the show too photo-realistic, and that we’re putting style into it.

What is the difference between doing the effects for live-action and working on a CG show like The Clone Wars?

I went through a learning curve when I first got onto the show. I worked on feature films at ILM for a little over 17 years before coming here. I knew how to do photo-real graphics, and that was it. Working with live-action, especially working at ILM for that entire time, you strive to make effects so believable, that you don't question that it's an effect. Working at that caliber you get yourself stuck into the groove of “no style”. There's not going to be any graphic enhancement or anything that you can do stylistically to make the effects look better.

Coming onto The Clone Wars, I was sent down to Singapore to work with the effects team there. At the time there were just three guys. Two of them, who were new to effects, said, “We want to make our explosions look better.” So I said, “Okay, let's get to the bottom of this, and well figure it out.” I brought a bunch of tools that ILM no longer used to do effects and started doing these explosions. I sent these explosions back to Skywalker Ranch to see what they thought, and the first comment I got was, "Too photo-real." So I went back to the drawing board and tried to figure it out again.

Almost half a year later, when I'd become a full-on member on the production, Dave Filoni [Clone Wars Supervising Director] came to me and said, “I want to do these rooster tails behind these speeders, but I don't want to do the usual cloud of dust and debris that kicks up behind a speeder when it flies, I want to do something stylistically like anime.”

So Dave dropped a Japanese anime show called Wolf's Rain in front of me, and I watched what the snow looked like and what the rooster tails did behind cars that were speeding down the road, and it looked like a saw tooth pattern. I thought, Okay, I really need to think creatively here and draw on my roots of understanding fine art. I'm a huge impressionist fan, and I thought, Well let's just make this took impressionistic. So I painted what the effects would look like, and made my painting come to life, and it was at that point that I realized I had finally broken through the barrier of live-action into stylized effects that we do on the show. You really need to take everything you earned from live-action and use small parts of it, but don't use the final look.

Is there more freedom with animation compared to the live-action stuff?

When you deal with live-action, it's what would call a “moon shot”, like how NASA get their rockets to the moon. It has to be launched on a certain day and it has to orbit the Earth a certain number of times, and then leave Earth's orbit at a certain point so that it perfectly lines up with the moon when it gets there. That's live-action effects. It needs to be precise, and here's not a lot of cheating that can be done. I've always been known to cheat at ILM and when I did my work, whenever I couldn't get the particle effects to do anything, I'd paint it.

What I've just discovered in the last year is that Dave and I have worked into a really good rhythm. He'll come into my office and the two of us will just brainstorm what something should look like, and by the time he leaves my office I'm thinking, I have no idea how I'm going to do this, and I figure I've gotta cheat to get it to work! Once I get it to a certain point, that's when I'll show Dave. You've got that freedom to work creatively through the process of developing the effects, or even coming up with the lighting scheme of an episode

What's the secret of a good explosion?

It took years for us to nail it, but in the last few episodes, we really got it. An explosion is made up of a pop-flash, then you've got the big boom. The secret is beats; you need to have the beats.

If you just have a big boom, the sound guys go and do a big boom and that's it. So you get this big push with the destruction that's happening. Then you have the fireball flash, the fire comes up and will quickly go to smoke. It's all really quick, but in order to have that beat, stylistically you need a follow-up, what I would call a concussion. You have the big boom and then you rush air or dust at the camera, like in a ring, and that's the second event.

Now, those two events are what make up every single explosion you see in live-action, so we've taken the first initial boom, and we've drawn in anime spikes, too. So when you watch these explosions, for about three or four frames, you'll see what appear to be hand drawn spikes, which is exactly what they are! Those spikes are actually just flat texture, and there's a few of them that are rotated so they don't look flat when combined. After that, we have the spikes just completely disappear, and then there's a shockwave: a rush of air that comes towards the camera.

The final event is what I call “shark bits”, and I refer to this all the time with the explosions, because it is a throwback to my favorite movie, Jaws. One of my all-time favorite elements of Jaws is when they blow up the shark at the end of the movie. There are bits of exploded shark that continue to fall down while Brody is in the water laughing, so I always have shark bits. That's the third beat of the explosion. You have the boom, the rush, and the bits falling down. The nice thing is you can use any one of those elements separately off the screen to give the sound guys even more to work with so you don't need to do the whole effect. Sometimes you can just have shark bits falling down, and the sound guys will go, “Oh, there must have been an explosion off-screen”. Or you'll see a rush of air go by and then shark bits. So those are my three elements, the three beats, and layering up each one of them is the key to making it all work together.

Depicting fire was a huge hurdle that you overcame on the show. What's the next big challenge?

Water. Water is maddening, as is trying to render fire. I would equate trying to get water to do what you want to do in CG as repainting a white room, because you don't know where you started, you don't know where you've ended, you don't know what's dry, you don't know what's wet. It all disappears, and you start to lose your mind a little bit!

When I found out that we go to Kamino in Season Three, and that we were going to be doing water, I knew I had tried it before on “Children of the Force” in Season Two. For that, I painted the water and put it on a flat surface, and made that surface look like waves. Around the same time, United Airlines had this weird hand-drawn commercial, with this water that was a whole bunch of repeated patterns. I took that as my cue to say, “You know what? As long as it acts like water, we can make it took like whatever we want.” I worked with this artist, Sang Lee, who painted the base color of the ocean to just be a bunch of brushstrokes that are dark and green and blue, and that kind of hue, and he painted stylistically what looked like the foam on top of the water, and that' all we did. Then we put a little bit of atmospheric haze blowing by, a little bit of mist rolling on the surface, to complete the effect.

Which episodes would you say have really raised the bar in Season Two?

“Landing at Point Rain” was a huge leap forward in terms of what we were able to do for effects on the show. The Zillo Beast episodes were groundbreaking in that started destroying things. We've never been able to physically destroy anything on the show before.

“Lethal Trackdown” was another epic challenge to pull off creatively, for the lighting and the effects. Dave would constantly come into my office and talk about it, because everything had to be better than just a cardboard-looking set. For that episode and “R2 Come Home” we really tried to push it to the next level. We're halfway through lighting the episodes for Season Three, and we're putting so much depth into the worlds that you're really starting to feel just like you felt when Luke crash-landed on Dagobah. Like, Wow, this is another place.

The biggest leap, however, was the Boba Fett trilogy. We were able to make the environments so rich. We totally changed the whole look of the show, and really made the environments something the characters actually had to wrestle with.

Do you have a favorite episode?

Lethal Trackdown. That and “R2 Come Home” were the episodes when I became the lighting supervisor, so it was my playground for lighting. Everything to me is light: light balance, light ratio, proper composition of shape, color, and balance in every single shot. Dave and I are both huge Caravaggio fans. I'm a photographer and so I love any painting with light.

I also love National Geographic, and for “Lethal Trackdown” I stumbled upon an article about Turkey, with a beautiful picture of this bar that I loved. I showed Dave and he said, “Sure, just try it out to see what it looks like.”

What's the strangest place you've drawn inspiration from?

It's in an upcoming episode of Season Three, and it's the Zeitgeist bar in San Francisco. I was inspired by the back room where they have these fuzzy velvet couches. To flip that question, the most beautiful place I've been inspired by, which is also for an upcoming episode, is 18th Century Paris. I had just seen the movie Chéri and said, “Dave, I want this planet to be like 18th Century Paris.” I also just started watching Mad Men, and am starting to think I need to light the next episode like a 1960s advertising building!

JOEL'S CHALLENGE

“Watch every episode and see if you can spot what movie influence was, or which artist influenced me. We’ve got one coming towards the end of Season Three where I was inspired by the photographers Lewis Hine and Sebstião Salgado!”

#Joel Aron #Season 3 #insider #i120 #crew #lighting #the clone wars #clone wars behind the scenes #now you know why i'm CRYING seeing Bracca's pools of waters

[factual-fantasy]

Come get yall’s bread

Aww thank you! And I hope you have a great new years too! :}

When I darn well feel like it.

I don’t know how old Brown Suburban would actually be compared to Ratchet or Optimus, I’m just going off of the age of the actual cars. Which means that excluding A.T., technically Green Truck is actually older than Brown Suburban.

If I knew how old was considered elderly, and how old was considered young for the TFP transformers than I could confirm whether or not he was older than Ratchet. But I don’t so I’m just assuming that he would be.

Oh and the angst? Yup. Brown Suburban was supposed to be this guy that no matter which wrecker you spoke to, they would always say, “Oh yeah, that guy Brown Suburban? He was already a wrecker when I signed up.” He was like one of the very first wreckers, and saw a lot of them come and go. He saw Ratchet in his younger starry eyed days and he saw Vega back when he was popular on Cybertron.

He knew Bash Buggy before there was even a scratch on him. He knew the Dragsters before they.. well.. yeah. He knew Green Truck before his bleed out and Optimus before his lead, he’s seen a lot.

At this point I wonder if he’s sick of change and just wants something to stay the same forever. Just one thing that he can look at and find peace in the fact that it has stayed the same all these years..

Which you know, would probably be Brown Suburban himself. That thing hasn’t aged a day since the race track I’m telling ya! Its amazing what love, care, and being stored undercover can do for a car like that.

Well hold on now! Slow down there partner, this is Captain Barnacles were talking about.

This absolute teddy bear would never hurt someone out of anger or spite, even if he truly hated that person. Its just not like him, the worst he would do is give that person a dirty look whenever they were around, but he would never lash out and hurt someone like that, despite his supposed instincts. He’s just too gentle and kind for that.

And as for the being spiteful of Bianca’s mate thing? Well his dad left them too, all polar bear dads don't stick around for the cubs for some reason. For the Captain I feel like he would feel like its just a normal thing that happens in polar bear families. It happened to his own mom, him and his sister, to all of his friends and to their parents too.

Grizzly and polar bear dads not sticking around is just how things are, a fact of life. Its just what they do for some reason. I don’t think he’d be spiteful or upset really. Unless he saw that his sister was struggling with the cubs maybe he’d wish things were different? I honestly don’t think he’d think about it or mention it.

Green Truck is keepin his cheeks, but Vega is pretty unwell at the moment. More on that in a later ask. :}

Bruh, can you imagine.

If Captain Barnacles could lift up Brown Suburban? The Octopod wouldn’t need its engine anymore. Because the Captain could just push it everywhere.

Yeah I’ve watched every episode and all the movies. Fun stuff. :}

XD Nice, my friend and the existence of the Conductor is dragging me into the fandom by my feet.

Oh! No no no I don’t do commissions, nor do I ever plan to. As for why, I have at least 5 reasons off the top of my head.

I already have a job, so the extra money isn’t something I desire.

I have witnessed first hand a loved one turn their art into a job and then loose their passion for it, I ain’t about to follow in their footsteps.

I don’t even know how to do them, and I can grantee that what ever I need to do to set up a commission system would be too much for my peanut brain to understand.

I’m an absolute friggin idiot and would 100% get scammed over and over again because I don’t have common sense and don’t know how anything works.

I’m not a people person and wouldn’t know how to handle someone raging at me for telling them to pay me for my art

Not good stuff my guy. :/

Thank you! And can you really blame him? XD With his bizarre vision, things sometimes seem really strange to him. He can never really truly trust his eye sight and if what he’s seeing is correct, but that’s all he’s got to help him identify the things around him.

THANK YOUGHGHGHNN

Thank you so much that really means a lot when referring to my Transformer OCs because I legit put my heart and soul into these characters but deep down felt like they weren’t good enough because they weren’t appreciated at the level that I hoped that they would be-

Thank you very much! I sure hope its gotten better, or else all these hours a day I spent drawing would’ve been a waste haha!..

I missed him too <:}. Lol but he probably doesn't miss me though after what I did to him haha..ha..

I headcannon that Peso has a form of separation anxiety of sorts, and just anxiety in general. 

Peso grew up in a huge colony of Penguins, a lot of those Penguins being his close relatives. He was always surrounded by people who loved him and would not hesitate to protect him at all costs. Everywhere he turned was someone there for him you know? I imagined that he was totally relaxed in his colony, a completely different person to the one we know now. Totally calm and happy being surrounded by the safety net that was his colony.

Well, after becoming an Octonaut, his safety net of comfort and peace went from being composed of like probably 1000+ Penguins, to only 6 people. 6, that’s it. Just 6 people.  

His crew is tiny, and Peso finds safety and comfort in numbers. He didn’t realize it before but he does now, he hates being alone, and being in a tiny crew creates a lot of situations where he’s alone.

Because of this, Peso has a tendency to latch on to people in a way. Like he’ll be completely normal and chill when he’s on the Octopod, because that safety net is now the feeling of being safe and sound in the Octopod. But when he’s out on a mission? Or even worse, when he’s out on his own? He may hide it pretty well, but he honestly stresses out pretty bad if he gets separated from the group.

I feel like Captain Barnacles knows this about Peso, and understands it better than anyone else does. The Captain understands where his fear is coming from, seeing that he feels it too when he’s alone. That’s why the Captain tries to get Peso to go out on short solo missions when he can, to better help him gain his independence and get over his fear.

One of us.. One of us... ONE OF US... ONE OF US!!!

You know who would be a scary pair? Tweak and Escort. You put two brains like that together and nothing can stop them.

Tweak be coming out with the Gup-🅱 that’s like all of the gups put together plus its a rocket ship.

And then you’ve got Escort walking away being able to make nucellar bombs that are as big as tick-tacks.

Green Truck and Escort are doing wonderfully, Vega however... ehh.. not so much.

The plan to convert Green Truck into a welding truck has been tossed out. Looks like he’s keeping his butt after all. Also Green Trucks carburetor has been replaced and he is running SO much better. Really, he drives fantastically, and we’re really happy with the turn out. I’d say Green Truck is doing just fine in life right now.

Escort hasn’t had any recent upgrades however, actually he’s had some downgrades.. His driver side door handle came off and I think his floor leak maaay be getting worse.. But you know? His engine is still smooth like butter. His driver is very satisfied with how genuinely nice this little tin can runs. Escort is legitimately running better than I think he ever has probably. After getting his engine all cleared out he really is a neat and pretty reliable little car.

As for Vega?... Well.. if being a fire hazard counts as staying warm I’d say he’s doing great!.. But seriously, he is no longer road safe. You see, Vega has a unique leaking issue where the oil around his pistons evaporates into a vapor and leaks through his breathers. This oil then travels down towards the front of the engine and begins to drip onto the Vega’s headers. The hottest external part of the engine. Of course, oil + heat = serious fire hazard. The last time we drove him we were all holding our breath watching as his temperature gage was going crazy and just praying that this thing didn't burst into flames on the highway.

Basically, either we bring a fire extinguisher with us on joy rides and hope he survives the burns, or, we keep him cooped up nice and safe until we can fix his leak. His driver obviously chose the latter.

I’ve never been comfortable with people drawing my OCs. But because my Transformer OCs didn't have as much support as I had hoped, I made a list of fanart rules and forced myself to let people draw them so hopefully they would get more recognition. 

But if I’m being totally honest, I wouldn’t be very happy to receive fanart, no matter if the artist followed the rules or not. So I’m going to say that no, I don’t accept fanart of any of my OCs anymore..

Hank u! ♡●ᴗ●♡

Who are these babies? Oh just some of my beautiful baby boys of course. They are transformer-afied versions of these two real life cars as you can see here, I think you can guess who is who in the picture. :}

 As for an explanation to where they came from.. A while back I got into a show called Transformers Prime you see, and I wanted to make some OCs based of off the show.

So, I took 16 of my real life family cars and turned them into Transformers. Something I had thought about doing for a very long time. I took these 16 characters and gave them personalities, unique relationships with each other and back stories that intertwined and connected like a web. 

Suburban and Escort are conically best friends so I drew them a lot together back then. After the Transformer thing didn't work out quite as well as I’d hoped.. I eventually dropped them all together. But as you can see I felt the need to draw my babies again, so I did. :}

If you want to learn more about my Transformer OCs you can see the original post here that shows all the characters. And then you can search “transformer ocs” on my blog and find some art if you scroll past all the asks. (The asks have some info though if you want to learn more about them story wise) :}

#my response #transformer ocs

[haloud]

michael guerin loves alex manes

So there’s been a narrative within the fandom ever since the s1 hiatus that Michael hasn’t been shown to love Alex like Alex loves him, that Michael never does anything for Alex, that Michael never makes himself available. I couldn’t disagree more. So here’s a list from season 1.

Michael:

Has a picture of them together and keeps it in a special box along with pictures of his family and has for 10 years

Kisses him at the reunion (after asking if Alex wants him to leave and giving him a chance to say no to the kiss.)

Gives him massive puppy eyes across a crowded bar after Isobel asks him if there’s anyone he would sacrifice everything for, which Alex sees, acknowledges with a lingering glance, then deliberately looks away.

“For me, nothing’s changed” “I never look away, not really”

Kisses him again

Literally everything about their scene in bed in 1x03, from the way he says “you stayed” to the way his mouth opens under Alex’s thumb to the reverent way he touches his leg

Wants his sister to know he and Alex are together but honors Alex’s refusal even though he’s hurt by it

Says he’d hate Max for sending Alex away in a direct comparison to Max’s fury at him and Isobel sending Liz away (aka saying he loves Alex the same way Max loves Liz)

At prom, he breaks up Alex’s fight with Kyle and, eyes only for Alex, tenderly asks if he’s okay

Opens up to Alex about how music makes him feel—the only person Michael ever seems to open up to about this part of himself

Kisses him in the UFO Emporium

“[I’ve never done this] with anyone I’ve liked as much as I like you”

Bodily defends Alex from a hammer-wielding Jesse and ends up permanently (or whatever -_-) injured from it

Tries to approach Alex in the bar in 1x09 after Alex hasn’t spoken to him for almost two months with no explanation. Tries a second time to talk to him/get him to open up until Alex shuts him down.

He says yes when Alex says Michael loved him for a long time

“We just connected like something—” “Cosmic.”

Opens up to Alex about his profoundly abusive childhood. Alex is the first person Michael is shown to trust with this part of himself in present day.

As soon as knowing about aliens doesn’t send Alex running screaming, Michael shows him his lab and everything he’s been working on even though an episode ago he was telling Liz not to touch it with Isobel’s life on the line.

“If anyone’s going to destroy me, it might as well be you.”

“Alex was the first person to make me feel like there was a place for me here.”

Loves Alex so much he leaves the mother he’s been searching for his entire life instead of staying to die beside her because Alex wouldn’t leave him otherwise.

“I love him, I probably always will.” <- the only time either of them has used love in the present tense about the other

So yeah, that’s a substantial but probably not comprehensive list of the ways Michael loves Alex and expresses it. Michael is not always nice; he’s mean when he gets defensive, and he gets defensive a lot. But throughout season 1 he also regularly puts himself out there for Alex while still respecting his space whenever Alex asks for it (which happens at least three times that I can think of—after the reunion, until Alex comes to him at the end of 1x02; after the drive in all the way until 1x09; and after the bar in 1x09 until, again, Alex changes his mind).

I’d also like to address a specific criticism I’ve seen about Michael’s feelings for Alex. No, Michael doesn’t bring up Alex to other people; but Alex specifically says he doesn’t want Isobel to know about them in 1x03 and never expresses a change of heart with regards to that. Michael talking about his relationship with Alex would be against his wishes and, frankly, really out of line and a denial of Alex’s agency. He’s not perfectly gracious about it, but it’s something that hurts him. He wants their relationship to be known, and Alex doesn’t until much, much later. As for Michael not defending Alex verbally…at what point does Alex require that verbal defense? No one ever talks bad about Alex to Michael! The only times Michael is there when Alex is under attack are at prom—and Michael intervenes—and in the shed—and Michael throws himself at Jesse screaming “don’t touch him.” Asking that Michael give the same verbal defense of Alex as Alex does for him is such a false equivalency, because their circumstances aren’t the same. It’s like saying “well if Alex really loved Michael he would tell someone that he’d hate them if they made Michael leave him.”

In season 2, Michael is pushing everyone away. He feels poisoned by hope, and explicitly, Alex represents hope in better things to Michael. Michael absolutely pushes Alex away in season 2. He’s not particularly kind about it. Especially in 2x02. But in 2x01 when he says that he doesn’t think they’re good for each other, he includes his own fault in that--he admits that he thinks he hasn’t been good for Alex either. And furthermore, the thing he says that people hate? “All our years of this, I’ve never said no to you. You come and you go and I go where you put me. This is me saying no.” Is also Michael admitting his own fault. It’s not an entirely accurate statement--we know of one instance and I think we can safely infer others where Michael said no with his actions if not his words--but it is him acknowledging that his own passivity in their relationship was half the problem and him setting a boundary to break that cycle. 

I think most malex fans were dissatisfied in various ways by season 2, and I think that inconsistencies and skewed priorities in the writing damaged the arcs and characterizations of just about every character, michael and alex very much included. But I think it’s disingenuous not to accept that the show wants us to believe, and therefore will proceed with this dynamic at the base, that both michael and alex contributed equally to the ways their relationship fell apart and hurt the other. With both of them having such a long history of trauma, with both of them having so few examples of healthy relationships to draw on in their lives, it’s not surprising things went like they did.

We end the season on can we both stop keeping score. I think fandom should take a hint from that. This list isn’t meant to be Michael’s scorecard, but merely a refutation of the idea that Michael’s love for Alex is an informed attribute. The idea that Michael hasn’t been shown to love Alex so deeply that it’s a part of who he is…that the foundation hasn’t been laid…it isn’t supported by canon. He loves him a lot. He loves him to distraction, to the point of agony, to the point of peace. Even after everything in season 2, he drops everything and makes a bomb that he thinks could wipe out his species to save Alex. Michael Guerin loves Alex Manes.

But that doesn’t mean that you as a fan have to keep shipping them. Even if they’re what got you into the show. Even if you think they’re going to be endgame. Even if you think they’re the only way you’re going to get eyes on your fanwork. If you hate half the ship, I encourage you to find a ship that makes you happier instead of subjecting yourself to a character you can’t stand. Also, if you’re going to write vent fic about how insufferable you find a certain character and how much you want them to Pay for their Crimes, it’s polite to tag it thusly.

#rnm meta

[dex-xe]

Regarding the ficlet ideas :)

You don't have to do all or even any of these, these are just the things that popped into my head when I was scrolling through! Also if you want to write them romantically you do it, we love and support youuu!!!

Fluff: 7 (Mary and Robin, probably platonic) & 10 (Mary and Kitty, also probably platonic)

General: 18 (Julian and literally anyone, it'll be hilarious)

And General 45. With Alison and Cap (and maybe all the other ghosts) becuase I feel you'd write it really sweetly and honestly it's a scene I'd really like to see

Alison & Captain General #45: “Are you afraid to die?”

So there’s still one more prompt from this person (the Julian one) but I’m combining it with other ideas so expect that soon!! The others have also been done here:

Fluff #7

Fluff #10

But yeah,, this got no interaction at all on AO3 but that’s okay cause I actually really enjoyed writing this one there are some good lines I think. Let me know what you think either here on on AO3 I don’t mind. (Also there is a Doctor Who reference in here but I can’t remember which episode it’s from so if yall find it let me know XD)

TW:// in depth discussions of death.

The dark ceiling of Alison’s bedroom swirled in front of her as she listened to the soft rumbling of her husband’s snores beside her. The glowing red lights of her alarm clock served as a warning to her impending sleepless night: 2:15am.

Worries of life and family and the hotel and the unusual presence of 20 odd dead people inhabiting her home raced through her head as she begged for some kind of distraction from her thoughts. She tried not to set too many rules for the ghosts: whenever she did, they would work even harder to break every written order she laid down - and also every unwritten rule that common sense laid down. But one rule Alison was strict on was their nighttime curfew: do what you want around the house (as long as it doesn’t make too much noise, mess or irritance) but do not, under any circumstance, enter the master bedroom.

She’d originally given them the usual “only in emergencies” protocol but, after Robin had scared Alison out of bed at 4am having deemed a fat ginger cat on the front lawn an emergency, this had quickly been scrapped. But watching the dust flow through beams of moonlight while contemplating every life decision she’d ever made, the prospect of some inconceivable disaster interrupting the ghosts’ eternal deaths was seeming ever more pleasurable.

Alison sighed and sat up to look over Mike deep in sleep, jealous of his peaceful snoring. She swung off the bed being careful not to jostle the sheets but flinched at the freezing floorboards touching her bare feet. She tiptoed slowly through the empty corridors occasionally stopping to listen at the doors of the ghosts’ bedrooms: quiet snoring from Pat’s, mumbled sleep talking from Kitty’s, total silence on behalf of the others.

Every common room lay vacant, excluding Robin curled up in front of the dying fire, so Alison continued on to the kitchen - taking Nigel’s advice to fetch some milk when she’s stressed.

Upon entering the kitchen, she was taken aback to find it was not as empty as the rest of the house would suggest. Leaning back against the far tiled wall with his eyes shut and head resting back on the cold surface, the Captain looked as if he could be asleep standing upright. His eyes snapped open and settled straight on Alison frozen in the doorway. He blinked slowly before darting towards the corner of the room in his usual long-legged, gangly run.

“Captain?” Alison called as he turned away from her. “No, no! It’s alright!”

The Captain stopped. Still. Silent. In a moment of alarming quietness.

“Sorry for disturbing you, Captain. I’ll only be a moment!” Alison said quietly, making her way over to the fridge. “God, I hope Robin isn’t in here.” She pulled open the door with great gusto, fleetingly thrilled by the presence of broccoli, strawberry yoghurt, and half a pasta bake rather than the shouting menace of a caveman.

She shut the door with the milk carton in hand and turned to find the Captain still facing the wall, breathing heavily in what appeared to be a WW2 remake of the Blair Witch Project.

“You can just go back to… whatever you were doing, now,” Alison took a swig from the carton. “Plotting your latest hair-brained scheme to get rid of me?”

“Now, now, Alison,” the Captain said, turning back around to face her and swaying ever so slightly on his heels, stick gripped tight behind him. “I’m less inclined to dispose of you nowadays.”

“Yeah?” Alison raised her eyebrows with a knowing glance and took another sip. “Well, I appreciate that, Cap.”

“Hmm,” the Captain agreed.

“Why are you awake then? Are you awake or do ghosts sleep upright against a wall? Is this some mechanic I don’t know about? Do ghosts have to sleep?” Alison asked rapid fire.

“Of course we sleep! What did you think we do during the night?” The Captain pointed to Alison’s milk and frowned. “You shouldn’t drink it like that. That’s how disease spreads.

“It’s only me that uses it, just don’t tell Fanny, yeah?”

“Mum’s the word,” he murmured.

Alison smiled. “So why are you up, then? Shouldn’t you be getting that beauty sleep?”

“Sometimes it’s a little difficult to drift off, I’m sure you understand that being awake at this hour too.”

“Oh yeah,” Alison said quietly. She lifted her carton up in a small gesture of cheers and made a move to leave. “Well, got my milk. I guess… I’ll just head back to bed then. Good night, Captain.” She had barely made it out of the door before the Captain spoke up once more.

“You could stay for a while,” the Captain said. “If you wanted to. I mean, if you didn’t want to just lay in bed gazing at the ceiling.”

“I’d like that,” Alison pulled out the chair closest, scraping the legs across the tiled floor and interrupting the silence of the house. She left the chair open for the Captain and moved to sit opposite him, settling into the quiet comfort.

“Isn’t it weird to think the dead sleep?” Alison commented. “Doesn’t seem right, does it? Cause sleeping is a bit like being dead only without the commitment so it’s like you’re kind of double dead.”

“Death is nothing like sleeping, Alison. Don’t talk to me about death if you don’t understand it.” The Captain sniffed at her and leant back in his chair maintaining his usual stoic exterior.

“Sorry,” Alison said. “I didn’t mean-,”

“It’s fine,” the Captain said quickly. The pair fell back into silence, they had never exactly been the closest of friends and Alison certainly wouldn’t describe him as her best (undead) friend but they were friend-ly, for sure. Certainly more now that he’d ceased trying to drive her from the house at every opportunity that presented itself. Then again, death does strange things to people, Alison thought, her friends had proved that much. They showed little regard for the lives of the living, thinking very much of themselves and the Captain was surely the embodiment of that.

“It’s not awful, as such,” the Captain interrupted the quiet. Alison looked up from the table to find him watching her intently. “Death. It’s not as terrible as you might think. I know that’s what you were going to ask.”

“Oh,” Alison said. “I wasn’t- I wasn’t actually going to say anything.”

“I know. But you were thinking it.” The Captain said. “You’re in a rather unique position, Alison, I must say. Not many people can say they have a good understanding of death before it happens, but you know more than most.”

“I still don’t really get it, though,” Alison admitted drawing lines across the table with her fingers.

“If I’m telling the truth, neither do I,” the Captain confessed. “I don’t remember it too well. It was like- like falling asleep and then immediately waking up again. You know that plummeting feeling  that happens right as you’re about to drop into sleep, like everything is calm and then suddenly you’re losing grip of reality, and then you’re wide awake again.”

“A hypnic jerk,” Alison quipped.

“Sorry?” He asked.

“That’s what it’s called, that falling thing. A hypnic jerk.” Alison said. “We did it in science class, I think. Your body thinks it’s dying so it does the jerk to make sure that you’re still alive. Makes sense that’s what dying feels like, I guess.”

“Are you afraid to die, Alison?” The question took Alison by surprise, it was unlike the Captain to be open about his emotions and even more unlikely for him to ask about others’ feelings.

“If I have to stay with this rowdy lot for eternity, then yes definitely,” Alison joked with a small laugh.

The Captain smiled and hummed in agreement: “Oh I’m sure I’d have agreed if given the choice before death. Not exactly the most peaceful post-death existence.”

“I’m a little bit scared,” Alison admitted.

“You shouldn’t be too worried, it’s not all that bad,” the Captain said with a shrug.

“Yeah, because you seem to be having a blast with your afterlife, Cap. Happy as Larry,” Alison said sarcastically, she threw the now-empty carton into the bin beside her and settled back towards the table, leaning forward closer to the Captain - their faces barely inches apart.

The Captain paused, his eyes boring into Alison’s sleepy face before he leant forward to match her and whisper in secret confidence.

“It is rather bad,” he reneged. “You should fear it, well done for being scared.” Alison chuckled. “Well thanks, Cap! I feel so much better now!”

“Now, you know that’s not what I mean,” the Captain said slowly, unsure of where he was going next. “As long as you die here, you have no reason to be afraid. We’ll care for you in death as you have for us in life. Be sure, Alison, we’ll teach you all we know.”

“You know, Julian has told me the ‘teachings’ you gave him when he died,” Alison chuckled.

“Somebody needed to give that scoundrel a good telling off; heaven knows no one in life ever did. Julian died much as he lived: with an air of superiority.” The Captain coughed and smirked across at Alison. “He waltzed in here as if he owned the place, demanding authority and respect and, as far as I’m concerned, those are qualities that are earned.”

“Like you?” Alison said pointedly.

“I’m sorry?”

“Did you earn the authority you have over the others?”

“That is beyond the point.” The Captain stated. “You’re rather lucky, Alison! You’ve met a somewhat tempered version of Julian, he’s actually rather bearable these days, likeable sometimes, you wouldn’t believe him in the early days.”

“Oh I can only imagine! And I’m better then, I assume? Seeing as I’m deemed worthy of your afterlife teachings?” Alison laughed.

“Indeed,” the Captain said.

“Were you afraid?” Alison asked. “Of death, I mean? Obviously like, before it happened.”

“No,” the Captain shrugged, finally heeling away from Alison and breaking their close eye contact. “A soldier is never afraid. When you enlist to serve for your country, you relinquish any right to fear your death. Service kills many who enter, you cannot fear the inevitable.”

“But you didn’t die in service?”

“I was a soldier. No matter if my demise happened during the war or 60 years later, I lived a soldier and I died a soldier.” The Captain said certainly. Whenever he spoke of his time in the military he straightened right up and masked any kind of emotion he had allowed to trickle through.

“Now that you’re not a soldier then, are you afraid of… you know, moving on?”

“Of being sucked off?” The Captain clarified.

“I refuse to say that,” Alison shook her head. “And frankly it’s cruel that Julian has kept this joke up. But are you scared?”

“I am still a soldier, Alison. I’ll always be a soldier.”

“Time has moved on, no more fighting and no more soldiers but you know that, Captain.”

“Doesn’t change anything. Time.” The Captain said, matter of fact. The darkness of the kitchen mostly shrouded his face but Alison could easily make out the outline of his sharp features and piercing eyes.

“Time changes everything.” She stated. “You should know that better than most.”

“I’m a soldier.” He repeated, mumbling it under his breath like a reassuring mantra. “For King and country.”

“Queen.” Alison corrected.

Allowing himself, for just a moment, to relinquish his solid, iron-clad grip on the past, the Captain softly whispered: “For Queen and country.”

#bbc ghosts #ficbymax

[cagestark]

Introduction to Ink//2

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Chapter Four

About this: nff, fem!Tony. College AU. Discussion of past kidnapping. 

-

There’s the eight of them: himself, Nat, Steve, Clint, Thor, Wanda, Bruce, and Toni. Natasha has an incredible firepit, all expensive paving stones and matching brick inlaid into the foundation of the patio. Bucky drags his chair back an extra few feet until he can barely feel the warmth of the flames; he doesn’t care for fire.

Toni is seated across from him, her figure sometimes lost to the flames and shimmering smoke when someone stokes the fire or adds a new log. It’s a mercy and a crime to lose sight of her, her tanned skin glowing orange, the flickering flame enhancing the shadow of her cheekbones and jaw and the modest arch of her breasts. They’d barely be palmfuls to him, easy for him to cup and flick his thumbs over her nipples.

Fucking hell, he thinks, shifting in his seat. Thinking that kind of pornographic bullshit about a girl he’s barely spoken to is perverse at best. To distract himself from the sight of her and the growing tingle in his groin, he reaches for the pack of cigarettes beside his chair and lights one up.

Around the fire, conversation never ceases. Thor, evidence provided by his deep tan, has been on the west coast and brought home with him a collection of stories with each wilder than the last. The group gets a kick out of teasing Toni for her horrified reactions, the collective good-natured laughter of the group drawing his eyes back to her, reluctantly. She flushes each time, gritting her teeth and rolling her eyes.

“Come on, T, your turn to tell a story,” Nat goads, trying to draw the reclusive girl into the conversation. All eyes turn to her. Bucky catches her heavy gaze on him before she looks down at her lap where her hands are clenched tightly together. “You’ve told me some. Tell them about your Uncle Obie—”

“I’d rather not,” Toni mutters dryly.

“Oh, please? Please, please, please?” Natasha slips from her perch on Steve’s lap to kneel dramatically at Toni’s feet, her hands clasped together in beseechment. God, she’s so much fucking looser when she’s drunk. Less Macbethian rigidity and more Midsummer Night’s Dream-esque silliness. Murmurs rise up around the fire as the others chime in, hoping the chip away at the girl’s reserved exterior.

“Isn’t the point of a party to distract yourself from the mundane and unsavory aspects of your life?” Toni wonders, reaching out to pat at Natasha’s hair, red as the flames. (Clint boos, but at least this time Toni’s lips quirk upwards in a smirk. She’s learning to take pleasure in Clint’s disappointment. She’ll fit into their friend group fine, thinks Bucky fondly).

Nat leans up, pressed flush against Toni’s side. She cups a hand around Toni’s ear as if to give them privacy, only she’s cupping it the wrong way, directing the sound of her stage whisper towards the rest of the group when she says: “Isn’t Bucky distracting you enough?”

Bucky drops his cigarette, flinching to wipe it away from where it lands on his jeans before it can burn a hole through them. The circle grows quiet, the sound of the fire as it crackles nearly deafening in the awkward silence. Toni’s gaze flicker to Bucky—an instinct thanks to Natasha saying his name—and those dark eyes grow wide like moons, her entire face flushing with a cocktail of embarrassment and anger. Nat gapes, suddenly aware of her faux pass, but she has no time to remedy it before Toni is standing.

“I’m going to go—get a drink,” she mutters, turning away and disappearing inside the house.

“Damn it,” Nat sighs. Steve reaches out to coax her back into his lap.

“Great one,” Bucky snaps. He reaches down to pick up his cigarette from the patio, tucking it back into his mouth. No use wasting it. “Really. Can we all give Natasha a round of applause, please?”

“Lay off, Buck,” Steve says with a frown. Even in the safe circlet of his arms, Natasha’s frown is heavy.

“I’m sorry, it just came out,” she says. “She’s been staring at you all day.”

“Toni and Bucky?” Sam says, eyebrows high. “I wouldn’t have seen that coming.”

“Not like that you dumbass. She can’t stop looking because she thinks I’m a circus freak,” says Bucky. “And you embarrassed the both of us. Anybody else says another word about it and I’m out of here.”

“Hey,” Clint says fondly, leaning out to lay one of his broad palms on Bucky’s shoulder. With exaggerated coolheadedness, he suggests: “Chill the fuck out.”

While the two of them begin to trade biting comments much to the amused delight of the rest of the circle, Steve presses a comforting kiss to Natasha’s temple and murmurs in her ear, “How much have you had to drink tonight?”

Natasha turns her head into the side of his neck to hide from the rest of their friends, lets her quirking lips brush against Steve’s skin as she murmurs, “ Nothing .”

The patio door opens. Toni appears, cheeks still a little red, with a beer in her hand. Brave little thing, Bucky thinks to himself watching as she returns to her seat and smoothly uses the metal arm of the patio chair to pop the cap off like some kind of expert. She takes a long sip, resolutely looking into the fire as if she can sense everyone’s eyes on her.

“So,” she says at last. “My Uncle had me kidnapped.”

A long moment of silence.

Then, from Clint: “What the fuck . While you were in the kitchen?”

-

The group’s drunkenness makes them the perfect audience. There are gasps and exclamations and No fucking way’s! as Toni relays a story that’s dramatic and horrifying and apparently entirely true: how a group of hired men had killed one of Toni’s bodyguards and carried the girl off; how her own father hadn’t been willing to pay the ransom; how she had escaped thanks to her own inventiveness only to be picked up by her Uncle Obie, who instead of driving them home, had driven deeper into nowhere. She’d put the puzzle pieces together and thrown herself from the moving car and spent 8 hours walking through the woods before she’d found civilization and returned home. Apparently Uncle Obie is serving a life sentence in Attica.

“That’s trauma. That’s like, first-class trauma. That’s not carry-on, either. You need to have that trauma luggage checked,” Clint rambles, though everybody is making noises of agreement. “Wait, I’m not the authority on childhood trauma. Wanda?”

“Trauma,” she decides concisely. Her face hasn’t yet returned to its normal color, not since Howard refused to pay the ten-million-dollar ransom.

“Hey,” Toni says, grinning. The bottle she’d brought out from the kitchen is empty now, and since it’s completion, she’s been noticeably looser. Light weight, Bucky thinks, the corners of his lips quirking up around his latest cigarette. “I warned you! Honestly, though, it wasn’t that bad. Not my worst kidnapping by far.”

“Please, no more,” says Wanda.

“No more,” Toni agrees. The two girls’ chairs are close enough that Toni can lean and rest her head on Wanda’s shoulder, the most outgoing and affectionate she’s been all night. Bucky isn’t going to be fucking jealous of Wanda’s bony shoulder.

“Should we break out some glow sticks and play more pong?” Natasha suggests. “I’m losing my buzz.”

Steve makes a face from behind her, probably not eager to see his girlfriend slip back into the verbacious phase of drunkenness, but everyone else promptly agrees, standing to vacate their chairs.

“Dibs on Bucky as my partner!” Clint shouts.

“I’m sitting out,” Bucky says. Everyone boos. “I’ll play the winner, okay?” Everyone cheers.

Natasha’s property is huge, so Bucky lets himself skirt along the edge of the woods, staying within the glow of the fairy lights but walking far enough away that he loses sight of his friends and can only hear their shouts and laughter carried on the wind. It’s become cool enough that he shrugs his jacket back on, his black on black ensemble probably helping him blend into the darkness whenever he steps into the treeline.

Ever since Becca died and Bucky moved upstate to be with his ma, Bucky has been prone to episodes of melancholy. He used to be a party animal when he’d first met Steve and Nat; they’d become thick as thieves partying together and watching out for each other. Now he can’t make it through a party without feeling the urge to wander off and away, to detach himself physically the way he so often feels emotionally. Finding a sturdy tree, he lets himself rest against it, head pressed against the rough bark, eyes closed (though he can see the glow of the lights through his eyelids).

“Oh shit—” There comes the violent cracking of sticks and the sound of a body tumbling. Heart pounding from the sudden shout, it only takes a few steps for him to find Toni on the ground, her skirt in a pool around her slim body, dark hair wreathed in gold from the lights above them. She looks up at him, flushed. “I hate nature. Really. And I’m pretty sure that the feeling is mutual.”

“Are you okay?” Bucky rasps, reaching one of his hands down even though his heart is in his throat. She hesitates at the sight of it before reaching out and tucking her smaller hand into his own and letting him gently pull her up from the ground. “You didn’t twist somethin’ did you?”

“Just my pride. Wait, you said twisted not destroyed.”

“Happens to the best of us. And to Clint, too.”

“Clint more often than others?” she asks. This close, the size difference between them is enough to go to his head and to his gut: she must barely be past five feet tall, slim and willowy and nothing like the girls he usually dates. Then again, he’s probably the last kind of guy she’d ever date. Still, she’s fucking pretty: those dark, big eyes with pinpoints of light in the pupils since she’s got her head tilted up to look at him, her mouth full and wide, chin pointed.

Bucky clears his throat, already having forgotten her question. “What are you doin’ out here?”

Toni sets her jaw. “I came to find you.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, I—wanted to apologize.”

Bucky blinks. “What for?”

She waves a hand back towards the distant sound of their friends. “For today. I didn’t treat you very, very, god, what’s the word. Does being drunk always feel like this, feel like my brain is scrambled eggs? Anyway, I came off like a real bitch.”

“Nah,” says Bucky, even if it’s a little true. He raises his chin, puts the honeycomb on his neck on display just to watch her eyes be drawn to it, her mouth parting a little. “I’m used to it, kid. Lookin’ the way I do. I understand.”

“That’s not right, though,” Toni is quick to supply. She still has her eyes on his throat. “It’s your body. Obviously. Also I'm not a kid, I'm twenty-two with a doctorate in engineering. I just, I’ve only ever seen one tattoo before. Excluding TV. It was like, this big? Maybe a little smaller. Of a peony, I think, maybe paeonia lactiflora , something in the paeonia family, anyway. I’ve just never seen anyone who looked like you before.”

Bucky doesn’t wince, but it’s a close call. “I get it.”

“You look so—” Bucky prepares himself for some kind of noun or adjective that he’ll have to swallow down like the most bitter medicine, grit his teeth and accept. Based on her expression, she’s still struggling to find the words she wants, her expression open and almost-awed in a way that makes him feel like he’s standing on the ridge of a tree root liable to fall over any moment. “You look like art.”

Whatever Bucky was expecting—it wasn’t that. She means it, too. He can tell. The shell she’s fortified around herself all night has cracked, and inside he can see the embryonic hints of a girl very young (though not nearly as young as he had thought, thank god), whose life until recently has been forcefully closed off and punctuated with moments of real terror. She isn’t horrified. She’s awed. She’s intrigued. She’s curious.

On a whim, Bucky shrugs off his jacket. It’s intoxicating to see her expression change: the eyes widen, the mouth parts, all at the sight of him alone. It’s a heady power that he isn’t used to feeling. But does the power belong to him, or is it simply washing over him? Maybe this slip of a girl is really the one with the power, power that he feels helpless to bend to.

Holding out a hand, he feels something like a princess offering his knuckles for her to kiss. She reaches out on instinct, stopping just shy of his skin to look up in question. The area beneath her slim fingers buzzes like the air before a lightning strike. He nods, willing to be struck.

Fingers with calloused tips brush from his first knuckle down over the letter (H, HATE across his left proximal digits and LOVE across the right ones). He holds his breath, begging his hand not to tremble at her touch as she trails her burning fingers up over the hill of his knuckle and down into the valley where the skin is thin and sensitive.

“I can’t even feel it,” Toni mutters. “Which, I mean, I knew. The ink penetrates all the way down to the dermis to avoid the keratinization process, but it’s just—I thought I would feel it.”

More breathless than he’d like to be: “Not sure what all that means. Sometimes you can feel them, though. When they don’t heal right.”

She looks up at him with wide, glittering eyes. “Is that so?”

Bucky nods. She hums, turning her eyes back to his hand where she runs her fingers over the ivy along the back, mussing the soft thin hairs that grow there. His throat clicks when he swallows, but he doesn’t think she can hear it, not over the screech of the evening insects and not through the trance she seems to be in, turning his hand this way and that way, coaxing it into supination so she can follow the trail of leaves.

She drags the tip of her fingernail gently down the center of his palm and he can’t help but shudder. There’s a dangerous heat blooming in his gut and several inches lower the tell tale feeling of blood rushing south. Thank God his jeans are tight enough to pin his cock close to his body.

“Why nothing here?” she asks, tapping the center of his palm just over his head line.

“They don’t take as well.”

“Thicker skin,” says Toni. “Epithelium on the palms and soles can be three times thicker than your average layer epithelial tissue. That must make it difficult to get to the dermis.”

“You learn that at school?”

“No; I’m at NYU for physics. But I read a lot.” She moves on from his palm, tracing the ivy down his forearm. The skin is so sensitive that he can’t hide the goosebumps that bloom or the way his body shivers. She doesn’t remark on it, but her eyes do flicker up to gauge his expression. Fuck, she must see right through him. He’s got no idea what he looks like, but if it’s anything like how he feels (and his ma always did say that he was an open book), then she knows everything in a single glance. How infatuated he is. How attracted he is.

She shivers. He reaches down to pick up his jacket and offers it to her, the both of them laughing when she slips it on and has to push the sleeves up. It shouldn’t feel so good to see her in his clothes, but it does. Jesus, it does.

With firmness, she guides his arm outward away from his side so that she can see the entire upper portion of the sleeve, the portrait of Strazza’s the Veiled Virgin. The way she moves him, twists him this way and that way has his cock aching. I’d take orders from her all day long , he thinks to himself, wishing he could reach down and adjust himself without drawing attention to his aching hard on. All night, too.

On his right arm, she repeats many of the same gestures, tracing the hills and valleys of his knuckles, examining his pale, unmarked palms, tracing the veins up his forearms, pausing to scratch gently at one of the dotted geometric shapes on his bicep. It’s torture to stand there and feel her touch on him, her eager, intoxicated eyes eating up his skin. You look like art, she had said. Under her hands, he feels like it.

When she runs into the sleeve of his t-shirt, she coaxes it back, trying to follow the trail of a chain. She makes a soft, unhappy sound when she can’t expose any more skin. It makes him swallow on reflex, bicep tightening under her hand as a thought comes to him. He opens his mouth to offer but shuts it again quickly.

“What?” she asks, looking up at the motion in the corner of her eye.

“Nothing.”

“Wh-at?”

“I was just—I’ll take it off for you. If you want to keep looking.”

Her eyes get heavy-lidded, roaming over his face as she searches for something. Somehow, she looks even drunker than she did moments ago when he first found her sprawled out on the ground. Not that he blames her; he hasn’t had a drink since the bonfire began, but he still feels drunk enough without it. Then he realizes why: she isn't drunk, she's turned on. The way she's shifting and can't stand still, thighs pressing together tight. This is turning her on, and that thought is nearly enough to bring him to his knees.

“Okay,” she says. She pokes his shoulder, her aim affected. “I want to see where this one ends.”

Bucky steps back to give himself the room needed to take off his shirt, though Toni seems to sway towards him. Like he’s got a gravitational pull, like she’s fallen too deep into his atmosphere to pull away now. With a shaking breath, he reaches for the neck of the shirt and tugs it off over his head, losing sight of her for just a moment.

She takes him in. His chest isn’t as saturated as his arms are. The honeycomb runs down to his collar bones before the lines begin to break down, reassemble into sheet music. Strict black and white linework that uses his own pale skin as the paper of the page. The chain that led up over his shoulder curves around his back to knot itself around the middle of his backpiece. From the base of his sternum down to the V of his hips, he is bare. Planning something big, he thinks, though he only has half-formed ideas.

Through each of his pale pink nipples are barbells.

“Good God,” Toni mutters under her breath. She places a burning palm on one of his bare shoulders so that she can lean in and remark, “Why would you do that? Didn’t that hurt?”

She’s so close that he can feel her breath fan across his chest. God, to reach out and tangle his fingers in her dark hair and draw her mouth those last six inches, to feel the soft rasp of her tongue over his sensitive nipples. He nearly groans at the thought. His nipples tighten under the attention of her gaze, aching in the best way.

“It all hurt,” Bucky rasps. The bite of the piercing needles, the sting of the tattoo gun—all of it had given him a sense of euphoria. A sense of pride in his body the likes of which he hadn’t had when he was young and insecure. “I guess I liked it anyway.”

She draws her fingers over the lines of his clavicles before turning her hand over so that the soft backs of her fingers trail down one defined pec. Maybe she tries to avoid it, her spatial reasoning fucked thanks to the beers she's had, but her pinky drags over his nipple. He does groan this time, the brief spike of pleasure going straight to his aching cock. One of his own hands drops, almost grabs his erection on instinct before he wills it away, reaching out to grip at a nearby low treebranch.

Toni pulls back like she’s been burned. “Sorry,” she says. “Did that hurt?”

Bucky clears his throat but doesn’t trust his voice. Instead, he shakes his head in the negative. She resumes her teasing touches, asking him to turn this way and that way, giving a delighted laugh at the spinal column tattooed from the nape of his neck down. Anatomically correct, she says. Though some of the cervical vertebrae are missing.

Every word she says goes straight to his cock whether it's about intervertebral disc space or whatever else. With his back to her and her attention on the tattoos there, he lets his hand drop as covertly as possible, rubbing without mercy at his confined cock, desperately willing the thing away. The rough touch nearly brings him to the brink, he’s that fucking close, innervated by every drag of her fingers, every press of her palm, every scratch of her curious fingernails. His head falls back, eyes shut tight against the lights above them, wondering if he can hide cumming in his pants long enough to get back to the house, say goodbye, and scram.

He pulls his hand back just as he feels the firm pressure of her turning him to face her, but this time there is no avoiding it. Her eyes have fallen naturally to the lines of ink peeking just over the waistband of his jeans. But centered in between and six inches lower is a bulge that can’t be disguised as anything but what it is. Bucky winces, reaching up to drag one palm against his forehead. This is probably the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to him, and Jesus, when Toni tells Nat about how Bucky coaxed her to feel him up and then popped a stiffie over it, the redhead will kill him.

When Toni speaks, her voice is an octave lower, letting one thumb brush against the flash of ink on his right hip. “Should—I mean...should you take your pants off?”

Bucky blinks. That was the last thing he expected to hear come from her mouth. “I...don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Toni’s face crumples a little. “Right. Sorry. I misread things. My therapist says I struggle with social cues.”

“Hey, that ain’t it,” says Bucky. He doesn’t like that look on her face, that burned, insecure expression. He’ll wipe the expression right off of her even if it means he embarrasses himself further. “It’s just been a long time since—Jesus, Buck, don’t say that. I mean that I’m not really known for my self control, and I don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret.”

“I can’t fathom a world right now where I’d regret you taking your pants off.”

“You can’t fathom it right now. But what about later when you sober up, huh?”

Toni rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her thin chest, the picture of childish petulance. “Oh come on. I’m not that drunk. Look, I’m an adult and you’re an adult. I’d really like to—to touch you, and correct me if I'm wrong but you seem like you’re receptive.”

Bucky’s cock supports the idea, twitching towards her. Fucking traitor. He steps back to put distance between them, to stop breathing her in and feeling the heat of her and to maybe clear his fucking head. It’s no wonder if he doesn’t have the oxygen to use his brain when all the blood has gone right to his dick.

“Toni,” he rasps lowly. “Come on, honey. Don’t do me like this. I’m trying to be good here.”

“I like the way you say my name,” she says, taking a step forward to make up for the distance he tries to put between them. Her face is a helpless mix between arousal and innocence: eyes heavy and pupils huge, cheeks flushed, mouth parted. She can’t have any idea what she’s doing to him, what she’s been doing to him since he saw her head ducked over a textbook in the middle of a raging party.

His back hits a tree, the rough bark scratching at his bare skin. He lets his head fall back, working to keep his breathing stable. “Toni. You should go back to the house.”

She pursues him with a single-minded intensity. He feels frozen under her eyes, just one of Medusa’s admirers helpless to look away. She’s so short that when she presses herself flush against him, his cock is nestled against her belly. The pressure makes his head spin even as he presses his hips backward, pinning himself to the tree to keep from grinding against the firmness of her body.

“I don’t have any practice,” she says, placing a palm against his sternum and dragging it down, down, down until it cups his clothed cock, hand looking downright dainty against him. He sees stars behind his eyes, cock jerking beneath her grip even though she is being far too gentle. “But I’m well versed in the theory, and I think you’ll find I’m a quick learner.”

If she thought that would seduce him, she is both right and wrong. A tiny primitive part of his brain revels in confirmation of what he already expected—if she’d barely seen tattoos in person, of course she didn’t have any sexual experience. He would be the first, the one to stain her like ink across her skin. His cock would touch places inside of her that hadn’t ever been touched. There is a darkness in him that would revel in splitting her open, in being the first to make her cum with his fingers and mouth and cock.

But there’s no fucking way he’d ever even voice those thoughts, much less give into them. What kind of a person is he to be aroused by the thought of taking her virginity, of taking advantage of her drunken state and lack of experience?

His fingers wrap all the way around her wrist when he pulls her away. With firmness, bending down so that they are nearly nose to nose, he says: “ No . I’m not that kind of guy. You want me so bad? Come find me when you’re sober.”

Toni staggers away from him, nearly upending herself. Her face is pale, and she looks a little like she’s going to be sick. “Right. You’re right. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—I know what no means.”

“I know you do,” Bucky says softly. He lets his hand fall, fingertips brushing against the pale skin above his waistband, above his aching cock. Her eyes track the movement, throat bobbing while she swallows. Fuck, that hungry look on her face is almost too much. She’s hungry for it even if she’s never had it, even if she hardly knows what she wants. “You couldn’t take advantage of me if you tried. Trust me. I just—I ain’t gonna take advantage of you neither.”

Her eyes roll. “My hero. Thanks. Can’t believe I’m going back to the party with sticky panties. That’s really uncomfortable, you know.”

Bucky groans. “Don’t tell me nothing about your panties.”

“At least we’re both suffering,” she says with a vindictive smile. She jerks a thumb towards the sound of their friends’ voices just as a cheer rises up, echoed by the angry shouts of someone losing and demanding a rematch. “Are you coming? We can walk back together.”

Shifting, Bucky reaches down and adjusts himself. “I’ll be there as soon as I can walk.”

He watches as she walks away, her hair and dark skirt blending into the darkness until he loses sight of her completely. Bucky lets out a long breath. Is he the stupidest man in the world or the strongest? Maybe both. Turning her down had taken everything in him, and a part of him knew that come morning when she sobered up she would probably avoid his presence, avert her eyes from his gaze, embarrassed of how she had come on to him. To someone like him.

But just then? She had wanted him. Wanted to touch him. Touching him had made her wet. The thought has him groaning. In solitude, he can let one hand drop without guilt to grope as his aching erection. There’s no chance that it will go away on its own, not when his every waking thought is her. There’s only one way to be able to return to the party with some semblance of normality.

Bucky unfastens his belt and then the button of his jeans. He slides the zipper down and his cock bulges free, still covered in his dark boxer-briefs. The head of him has wet the fabric, steady precum leaking from the tip and he presses his thumb against it until the pleasure threatens to slip into pain, his balls throbbing with a load the likes of which will probably set a new personal record for him.

Reaching past the waistband, he draws his cock free. The first touch of the cooling night air has him letting out a noise from low in his throat. Widening his stance as best as he can with his jeans still on, he lets one hand drop down to cup his balls. They’re firm, ready to draw up at a moment’s notice. His fingers wrap around the shaft giving one long, tight stroke. He usually likes lube, but as much as he’s leaking, he can make do without it.

“ Fuck ,” he mutters, eyes rolling in relief.

That’s the moment when Toni comes barreling through the trees again, freezing at the sight of him half-naked with his cock in hand.

#winteriron #fem!tony stark #toni stark #cagewrites

[professorlthings]

How Supernatural Gripped Me Tight and Raised Me from Perdition

Happiness in Just Being:

How Supernatural Gripped Me Tight and Raised Me from Perdition

I am a broke college student. What little money I have is often spent on books I don’t technically need, much to the chagrin of my mother, who I have clearly not learned how to budget from. Furthermore, with Supernatural conventions on the 2021 calendar, saving money has really become something I strive to do. Nonetheless, sometimes my budgeting fails.

Trudging through Barnes & Noble one evening, looking for two YA books I’d recently added to my reading list, I walked into a Supernatural display. Now, as mentioned above, I’m a college student with limited funds to my name, but my investment in the Winchester brothers and their angelic ally Castiel had peaked this semester, and I was immediately drawn to one of the books, a volume entitled Family Don’t End With Blood, which had a drawing of the Winchesters standing against their 1967 Impala.

After a brief, agonized contemplation, I bought the book, along with several other pieces of Supernaturalparaphernalia, completely depleting my bank account – this is not hyperbole. Though I haven’t even begun to scratch the surface of all the essays people have written in this book about how Supernatural changed their lives, I am conscious of one indisputable truth: it changed mine, too. So, in the spirit of inspiration by the book, here is the story of how Supernatural gripped me tight and raised me from perdition.

I almost died this semester.

No, no. That’s too passive. I almost killed myself this semester. It’s unfair to say “I almost died” as though it wasn’t something completely in my control. Well, both under my control and ridiculously out of my control.

I got low this semester. It’s been a taxing year for everyone, I grant, and I was no exception. I’d fallen into such a bad place that I had taken to cutting myself with the red kitchen knife my mom had given me when I graduated high school. Cutting became a routine, something I would fall back upon. But I eventually stopped. And as I think back to the last evening I ever cut myself, I wonder what stayed my hand, what made me put that knife down.

It wasn’t my friends. Some of use weren’t even talking at this point.

It wasn’t my family. We were in a bad place, too.

It was something about me. Some resolution to keep living, despite every bad thing that had happened to me in the last 12 months.

Two months later, I shrug out of my trench coat, making sure to keep my open button-down on over my grey waffle undershirt, the cold already biting through my heavily layered clothing. My clothing is at this point 75% inspired by the Winchester brothers, from my red, purple, and green striped button-down to my now just broken-in Doc Martens; the other 25% belongs to Castiel, who inspired me to buy this trench coat. And it so happened that America’s Thrift Store had just what I was looking for – for $16.99.

I survey the now almost empty campus of the University of Alabama, oddly empty for the middle of dead week; it seems that most of the students have seen fit to go home, unlike me and my ragtag group of friends, most of whom decided to stay through until the end of finals week. I catch a glimpse of two people walking their dog across the Quad, and they probably notice me as well, sitting on the steps of Gorgas Library, a haunt usually occupied by many students at this time of year.

But, then again, it hasn’t exactly been a normal year, by any standards.

When Quarantine hit and I suddenly found myself back home at my parents’ place, I did what half of the population must have decided to do – I began watching a new TV series. With Doctor Who, Sherlock, and Good Omens already under my belt, the obvious place to go next was Supernatural. I had shockingly written it off as a show of little interest, because it was American, not British. Nonetheless, I didn’t think anything particular about this particular choice; it more just seemed like a natural next step. My younger sister and I began with “Pilot” and stopped somewhere in the middle of season 3, when my sister lost interest in the show. But my journey with Supernatural didn’t end there.

As an English major, I’d been thinking about what I’m going to write my senior thesis on, and I eventually decided to write it on free will in the works of John Milton. And in exploring Miltonic free will in modern media for my directed readings class with my thesis director, Dr. Ainsworth, I found that Supernatural spoke volumes for the research I wanted to conduct for this class. Thus, without hesitation, Dr. Ainsworth and I added Supernatural, seasons 4 and 5, to our syllabus for the course.

I won’t lie, though, this semester got away from me.

I had a fight with one of my best friends and we didn’t talk for weeks.

I was sent to the North Harbor psychiatric facility for the second time this year.

Needless to say, with all of this stacking up on me, school became a less than a priority. My grades started slipping in all my classes, especially in Italian, where, for the first time in three years, my grade dropped from the usual A+ all the way down to a C.

I forgot all about Supernatural, BSing relevant facts about it and free will during my meetings with Dr Ainsworth, barely having a hold on my Milton project at all.

My grades were tanking, and my mental health was slipping out of my control. For the first time in my life, I really didn’t know what to do. I resorted to cutting on the regular, always in the same place, the outside of my wrist. At first, I’d just barely draw blood, but one time – the last time – I cut it so deeply that it wouldn’t stop bleeding. My sweatpants were covered in blood, as was my bathroom floor. That’s when I realized I needed to stop.

It was a resolution. A resolution that I would never cut myself again. I hate making promises, and try to avoid them at all costs, but when I make promises, I keep them. And this is what I promised myself. And it was hard. It was so hard!

Nonetheless, life began looking up.

Lightning struck.

Sometime in the weeks that I was back at my parents’ place in New Mexico, healing, I realized I wanted my essay for Dr. Ainsworth to be a good essay; I wanted it to be lit journal-worthy, hopefully.

That meant I needed to watch seasons 4 and 5 of Supernatural. Which meant I needed to finish season 3 first.

I made a half-hearted attempt to start season 3 back up where we’d left off, but I watched one episode and lost interest, my overtaxed mind refusing to focus on the Winchesters. Besides, Castiel was the relevant character for my essay, not the Winchesters, and he didn’t show up until season 4.

Okay, I thought, I’ll give up the chronological watching and just start season 4. I did. And from then on, I kept watching. At first I watched every episode, but with deadlines for my paper coming up quicker than I was prepared for, I began just watching episodes that Castiel appeared in.

I didn’t stop once I’d finished the relevant seasons, either. The Winchester brothers and Castiel quickly became an integral part of my life – and that’s where this story truly begins.

Once lightning strikes in my soul, it usually means we’re in for the long haul, which in this case means 15 seasons worth of the long haul, culminating in my senior thesis next fall, a project linking John Milton’s Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained with Supernatural. I found the link – love is what gives us free will, and all of the media I was engaging with supported this idea.

Don’t even get me started on how Castiel in season 15 ties into this thesis, but oh my goodness, he does.

In Supernatural, I found more than examples of how the power of love gives individuals free will. I found things relatable to me that I never would have previously been able to relate to, had it not been for this profoundly hellish year.

I found Sam Winchester.

Sam Winchester is not perfect. Sam Winchester has so many faults. Sam Winchester is so profoundly relatable that I count him responsible for saving my life.

How did Sam Winchester inspire me and how does he continue to inspire me? I couldn’t count the ways. But I think the most important thing about Sam was that he taught me I was okay. Broken as I was, Sam taught me that I was not beyond saving – that there was hope that I could still get my life back on track.

One of the key aspects of season 4 is Sam’s addiction to drinking demon blood. I saw myself in Sam; his addiction to demon blood mirrored my addiction to self-harm. On that night I realized I needed to stop, I made a deal with myself that I was never going to pick up a knife again. And I haven’t. Now, whenever I start to feel that I’d be better off dead, or when I tempted to pick up a knife again, I think of Sam Winchester. If for no other reason, I can do it for Sam. As Sam taught me, you can overcome addiction and get your life back on track – even when the addiction makes you feel so good and you suffer withdrawal without it. If Sam Winchester can avoid demon blood, I can avoid cutting myself. And I have. For nearly two months.

Sam continues to encourage me to not lose faith. For instance, when Sam didn’t tell Dean the whole truth about what he was doing, that caused his brother to lose trust in him. Sam didn’t tell Dean that he was drinking demon blood, teaming up with a demon, or any number of other things. Dean flat out tells Sam that he can’t trust him anymore, that their relationship will never be what it once was. And that resounds with my soul in ways so hurtful I wish it didn’t. My oldest sister said she doesn’t trust me anymore, after things I’ve said and not said this year. I see myself in the same situation with her as Sam is with Dean. And it hurts; but at least I have Sam to relate to.

But perhaps most importantly, Sam Winchester tries to do right by the people around him. Sam tries to focus on others rather than himself, and he tries to help whenever he can. I wish I was more like Sam Winchester, and I am eternally grateful to Jared Padalecki for his portrayal of Sam that inspired me to continue on.

Castiel, too, makes me strive for better. And when I say that Castiel’s final speech in 15.18 is the reason I’m as happy as I am, I mean it.

Castiel makes a simple statement: “Happiness isn’t in the having; it’s in just being.”

Preach, Castiel.

Though people may have gripes about season 15 of Supernatural, one thing that kept right until the end was solid character development. Nobody did anything outrageously out of character, and for that I am truly grateful. As could be expected, Supernatural ended in heartache, but also a profound sense of peace – the idea that if you pursue the greater good, as motivated by those you love, you will have a fulfilling life.

I think I finally understand.

Years of depression and anxiety cannot stack up to these few words:

“Happiness isn’t in the having; it’s in just being.”

I’ve finally found my happiness, and I have Supernatural to thank for that.

This essay would be incomplete, however, without a shout-out to Dean Winchester as well. Although I see less of myself in Dean, I admire many traits he possesses. He cares about his family, almost to a fault, and he cares about his friends. While he doesn’t express feelings on the regular, he does in the important moments, and that’s what matters.

Dean Winchester is perhaps a role model I could take, saving people, caring about his family and friends, and living life to the fullest.

Furthermore, Dean is arguably a bisexual icon. I really appreciate both the subtle and blatant ways in which Dean Winchester’s sexuality is portrayed on screen. Though I know not everyone believes that Dean is queer, as a queer person, I find the idea of Dean being a canonically bisexual character in mainstream television exceptionally powerful. So it’s canon to me.

Watching Dean’s death scene in 15.20 nearly broke me. Although a good friend and I tried to get drunk to watch the season 15 finale, alcohol was not enough to prepare me for the emotions I felt watching that one last episode. When Dean died, it genuinely felt like I’d lost a good friend. I cried a lot. Both in the moment and in the days that followed.

But missing things reminds me to be grateful for the fact that these things exist in the first place. Yes, Supernatural may have ended, but we were lucky to have it with us for fifteen years.

Because, after all, “Happiness isn’t in the having; it’s in just being.”

Supernatural taught me that love of friends and family can truly save the world, and that in a world where you can be anything and love anyone, it’s best to be yourself. So here I am.

With this essay drawing to a close and the cold air beginning to freeze my fingers as I type, I have one last thing to say:

I don’t seek acceptance or love or approval from anyone other than myself – I am no one’s but mine – and I now have a new life mantra. Say it with me.

“Happiness isn’t in the having; it’s in just being.”

The fact that an ex-blood junkie, a fallen angel, and a college dropout with six bucks to his name saved my life speaks volumes both to how Supernatural affected me, as well as how bad things had to get to get me to that point. I can look back on this year, everything I did right and everything I did wrong, and one thought rings truer than all the others: Supernatural changed the course of this year – and my life.

Thank you to Lynn Zubernis, Jared Padalecki, Misha Collins, Jensen Ackles, and Eric Kripke (among many, many others) for helping me to discover this amazing experience!

#supernatural #spn #spn 15x18 #spn 15x20 #jared padalecki #jensen ackles #misha collins #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #cas #saving people hunting things #dean #sam #how supernatural gripped me tight and raised me from perdition

[imagine-loki]

Atlas: Space, Venus

TITLE: Atlas: Space

CHAPTER NO./ONE-SHOT: 3/12

AUTHOR: fanfictrashdump

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine narrating episodes of Loki’s life with the Avengers based on the songs from Sleeping At Last’s “Atlas: Space” album. 

RATING: T-M

NOTES/WARNINGS: Welcome to my Sleeping At Last’s Atlas: Space challenge, aka Another writing project I do not have time for, but my brain insisted on doing.

This series will be less like a multichapter fic and more of a one-shot compendium, but that they all interconnect in one way or another. It will revolve around Loki and Becca’s relationship (Taking Turns, Glow, Helmet Heists–don’t worry, more Loki-Charlie stuff will be along) and I will use those one-shots as reference to the timeline. Each chapter will be one song, used as inspiration for the story.

Chapter 3: Venus

Summary: Two idiots cannot admit to themselves, much less each other, that maybe their friendship is a little more than friendship. (Happens between Helmet Heists and Taking Turns.)

Warnings include: language, unabashed staring at each other, fluff but in that awkward way that two introverts who like each other have, and maybe Loki has a pain kink, idk.

=

It was sort of hard to describe the sensation. The one felt when someone was staring daggers straight into her soul. Becca found that it was not the hair on the back of her neck standing at attention or the copious goosebumps that erupted over her skin that gave it away. It was just knowing. Knowing that he was there, lurking quietly in the background, trying his hardest to be one with the shadows until the second he decided he needed to pop out and startle her. He had all but failed the last three times he tried and it tickled her to no end.

“Pass me that soldering bit, will you?” She asked, holding her right arm out and slightly behind her just as Loki was due to dig her fingers into her ribs and give her a fright.

“You’re not clever, you know,” he grumbled, slapping the bit in her hand with frown.

Becca grinned. “I beg to differ, Mischief. I’m very clever.” The spark of the soldering iron reflected against her goggles for several seconds before the instrument was set aside.

Loki chose to let it go, knowing that running his mouth would not do him well. Even if whatever would escape his lips was nothing short of a schoolboy teasing someone he secretly admired. Instead, he tapped on the vambrace-shaped object she was working on, leaning onto the bench beside her with an easy smile. “What’s that?”

“Physical advantage,” she declared, casually. “I do well in missions, but only because I can run very fast. Not because I’m particularly skilled at combat. I’m giving myself some strength.”

The night sky once ruled my imagination Now I turn the dials with careful calculation After a while I thought I’d never find you I convinced myself that I would never find you When suddenly I saw you

With a whisper of a smile, she allowed herself a minute to watch him.

Loki was now used to hanging out in her lab while she tinkered with her toys. More than once, he offered some insightful recommendations on how to make armor more efficient, more durable, more beautiful. His affinity for weapons of war was second nature to him–an advantage that she could only dream of having. Sure, she was good at numbers and carefully crafting the perfect wafer thin circuit board that would add only a fraction of an ounce to an armor, but he had that easiness of experience. Of being assured that no matter what he saw in battle, he could adapt to it. She, on the other hand, could only hope for enough time to solve some differentials in her head and hope to whatever deity she subscribed to that plans worked in her favor. 

“Hmm. Strength.” He sounded curious as his fingers traced the delicate edge of the guard. Becca forced herself to focus on the present moment and dismiss the idea that she had been watching his fingers fiddle with her inventions for much longer than was proper. “Do you care to test it out? If you can deal with me, it’s probable you won’t die on the field.”

She snorted, rolling her eyes. “Charming, as always, Loki.”

“I’m only trying to make sure you continue to draw breath, Rebecca.” He checked her gently with his hip. “Come on. I’m bored. Fight me,” he threatened playfully, mimicking her rallying cry from whenever he was being particularly annoying. He might have been a little too attracted to seeing her riled. He watched her swallow thickly, in what he supposed was apprehension. Becca would have been glad to know that was what he thought, rather than knowing how she felt about watching him fight and the flutter in her chest that followed.

At first I thought you were a constellation I made a map of your stars and I had a revelation You’re as beautiful as endless You’re the universe I’m helpless in An astronomer at my best When I throw away the measurements

“Fine. Whatever.” She pulled the vambraces over both her forearms, taking care that the crisscrossing straps over her palms didn’t tangle.

They walked to the testing floor, side by side. No one was there at this time of night, which suited them both just fine. Loki shed the hoodie he was wearing to keep toasty, and tossed it aside on one of the work tables. Fidgeting, Rebecca stood tall, bearing her weight on her back right leg and turning to watch Loki as he easily stalked around her, looking amused.

“Have I ever told you that you look like a particularly startled deer whenever we spar?”

“You’ve mentioned it once or a million times, yes,” she hissed under her breath, bouncing forward and taking a swing. He dodged easily, arms clasped behind his back as he strutted.

“Don’t think so much, darling.”

Loki took a large step backwards as she feinted and swung again. With a smirk, he tapped her right cheek with his first three fingers.

This was what irritated Becca to no end. Whenever they would spar he would never dare even to make proper contact. Instead, he would poke, prod, or tap her gently–a movement that required both forethought and ample reaction time. It was his way of saying that he was breezing through the fight and she needed to step it up. He secretly hoped it also conveyed that he didn’t want to hurt her, but in her ire, he doubted she saw it as anything more than a slight to her abilities.

“Keep your hands up. You’d be on the floor right now had I any intention of returning the blow.” She growled, redoubling her efforts, each time with Loki either stepping away or maneuvering her in an opposite direction. “Don’t get frustrated. Focus on your instincts.”

Becca huffed, lowering her hands, shoulders slumping. “Why are we doing this? I never get a punch in.” She blew a tendril of brown hair away from her eyes and pouted.

Like a telescope I will pull you so close ‘Till no space lies in between

“You need to fight against the distance. Just because I can attack from where I’m standing, doesn’t mean you can. My reach is far greater than yours.” He put his hands on her shoulders and pressed gently until she bent her knees slightly. “You’re on the smaller side, but you have good balance and a strong core. Force your taller opponents to aim down–take away their balance and move closer.” He pulled her until she was a mere half foot away. “A blow at close range will hurt you less, should you be struck, but with the assistance of your instruments, you make a stronger impact on your enemy.”

“I don’t want to get punched,” she muttered, looking down at the floor.

Loki laughed. “No one wants to get punched, darling.” He had tilted her head up to meet her eyes and immediately cursed himself for getting into such a position. It would be too easy to betray her friendship for a taste of her lips, swollen from her insistent worrying of them with her teeth. “A-again. Let’s go again.”

Nodding a little shakily, she stepped back. It took a moment to shake away the tingles that had blossomed beneath her skin at his close proximity. The idiot couldn’t see the impact of his casualness on her demeanor. She breathed deep and got back into position.

I was a billion little pieces Till you pulled me into focus Astronomy in reverse It was me who was discovered

Loki attempted to rid his brain of the scent of brown sugar and vanilla that invaded his senses. He needed to focus on the task at hand. His look turned predatory. His movements followed suit. They circled each other for longer than either of them could even tell. Loki had the grace to move first. His elegant lunging startled Becca, who covered herself and shifted away. The strategy worked for a minute or two, before he reached out and wrapped his dexterous fingers around her neck and held her gently still; more a warning than a hold. She broke his grip and invaded his space, as he took a second too long to shuffle back. The left-handed hook that whacked him under the jaw caught him by surprise.

Then suddenly I see you

Becca gasped, covering her mouth with her hands in horror. Loki stood still, holding and working his jaw until it clicked noisily into place. She expected him to be livid; to loudly give her a piece of his mind, proclaiming that he didn’t harm her when they sparred, so why did she. Instead, she watched in abject surprise as he dropped his hand and he smiled what was possibly the most genuine and proud smile she had ever seen him give.

“That is what I want to see.” He stood back in position, though this time he had a fighting stance, smile still pulling at his lips as though it were a permanent fixture. He couldn’t be certain, but he thought that she could hear the thumping of his heart just as loudly as he could hear hers. “More. I mean again.” He made a vague gesture at her. “Come on. Please. Again.”

#Loki #Lover #Others #Submitted fic #submission #chapter 3 #atlas space #Fanfictrashdump

[ofsinnersandsaints]

one night and every morning after

rating: E (this chapter is G) total word count: 32752 chapter: 6/? takes place in episode 9 this episode exists almost entirely because of @majestrixstormbringer who is the bestest ao3

Macy woke up at eleven in the morning, and for the first time in what felt like weeks, she wasn’t exhausted. Tired, yes. Her eyes felt scratchy and the temptation to roll over and try to get another hour of sleep was tempting, but it was Christmas Eve and this was the first time she’d ever get to celebrate the holiday her sisters and she wasn’t about to miss a minute.

For as long as she could remember it had just been her and her dad, a quiet and simple holiday which she sometimes spent with her grandparents. But as she got ready for the day, she could hear the Christmas music floating up to the second floor as the murmur of voices drifted up along with the classics and it warmed her heart to hear.

Macy had heard all about their family traditions – decorating the tree today, presents at midnight. They’d asked if she had anything she wanted to add to the festivities, and the only thing she could think of was the massive breakfast her father cooked Christmas morning. Harry had promised to go all out.

With that thought, Macy felt butterflies in her stomach which she tried ignored, because this wasn’t just her first Christmas with Maggie and Mel, it was her first Christmas with Harry as well.

Harry whom she cared about, Harry whom she couldn’t be with in any public way, Harry who sometimes looked at her in a way which made her forget her own name.

Moving to her vanity she picked up her tablet and sat back down her bed, searching through her cloud until she found a very old video. Before she could push play there was a knock on her door, and she knew without asking it was Harry on the other side.

“Come in.”

Her secret boyfriend was wearing the ugliest Christmas sweater she’d ever seen, and it made her smile, but somehow in the short time they’d known each other Harry had learned to read her face. His brows lowered as he came into the room, shutting the door behind him. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” she answered, because everything was okay. She had her sisters, she was a powerful witch, had a great secret boyfriend, and yet… “Holidays are just hard since my dad died.”

He moved across the room, a glass in his hand, and sat beside her on the bed. “It’s been two years?”

She nodded and looked down at the tablet in her hands, her father’s face frozen on the screen. “I was going to watch an old video from Christmas when I was kid.”

His smile grew, brightening his eyes as he scooted even closer so he could look over her shoulder. “Little Macy? Now, this I have to see.”

With a soft laugh, Macy pushed play and watched as her father’s face filled the entire screen. He’d set up the digital camera in the corner so it would catch both them and his parents, and true enough her ten-year-old self bounced into frame. Her hair was in a puff, tied together with plaid ribbon.

“Presents!” she announced to the room, and her father laughed.

“Grab one from underneath the tree,” but even as he said that he grabbed one wrapped in silver paper. “This one is from Santa.”

“You’re adorable,” Harry murmured, his eyes completely focused on the image of her meticulously unwrapping the paper of her present. “I’d have guessed you weren’t the type to tear the wrapping paper.”

Macy smiled, a little embarrassed, until she realized she remembered this particular present. Santa had bought her a small, silver jewelry box with a purple gemstone on top – she still had it somewhere, packed in a box. It had been stupid to carry around such a small keepsake, but she hadn’t been able to get rid of it.

“You seem happy.” Macy paused the video where she was showing her dad what she’d gotten. “You must miss him.”

“All of them,” she corrected with a sad sigh. “Gran and Gramps died a few years before Dad. It was just me the past few years.”

He looked at a picture of her and her sisters she kept on her dresser. “Well, you certainly don’t have to worry about that now.”

Macy nodded and took his cup, taking a sip of what she’d thought was eggnog and was caught off guard when it wasn’t anything like she expected. “What is this?”

“According to your sisters, it’s coquito. Family tradition.” She took another sip now that she knew what to expect. “This may not be my first glass.”

With a laugh she handed the cup back to him. “It’s not even noon.”

“It’s Christmas,” he shrugged. Harry stood up and held out a hand. “Shall we?”

“We shall,” she took his hand and together they walked downstairs. It was still a little odd to be displaying any kind of affection outside their little orb. She’d never snuck around in high school, but she imagined it would feel a lot like this, worried at any moment someone with authority would sneak in and catch her doing something she shouldn’t.

When they got to the living room Maggie was moving ornaments, muttering something about how it was the wrong color on the wrong branch, but her face lit up with a smile when she saw them. “Merry Christmas! I was wondering when you were going to join us.”

“It was a late night,” she admitted. “And Merry Christmas to you.”

“When did you get home,” Mel asked as she came into the room with a handful of presents, setting them down carefully beneath the tree.

“After one,” Macy answered. Work at the lab hadn’t eased up for the holiday, so she’d put in extra hours yesterday to make sure she could have today and tomorrow off. “I didn’t get to sleep until three.”

“I hope you’re getting overtime at least,” Maggie commented.

“I’m not, but I’m on salary so if I have to take days off my pay won’t change, which comes in handy with the demons and everything.” Mel looked like she was about to say something, but she was interrupted by the doorbell. Everyone looked at each other as if one of them had done it. “Are we expecting someone?”

“Maybe it’s Santa,” Maggie grinned as she moved to answer the door.

“Santa’s not real,” Mel reminded her.

Her eye roll was a near verbal thing. “Sure, we’re witches, Harry’s dead, and we met an Egyptian fertility goddess, but Santa is where we draw the line.”

Mel grimaced. “I hate it when she has a point.”

Macy didn’t want to think Santa was real, because that opened a whole other door she wasn’t prepared to deal with on so little sleep. In her mind, her dad was Santa, and he was the one who picked out her pretty presents each year. Probably with the help of her Gran.

When Maggie came back into the living room, her smile was strained. “Look who came by.”

Behind her, dressed in all white, was Charity. Almost without thinking, Macy dropped Harry’s hand and took a full step away from him.

It was probably one of the least subtle moved she’d ever done, and that was saying something.

“What an unexpected surprise,” Mel greeted, her friendliness as fake as her smile.

“I know I’m intruding, but I’m afraid this couldn’t wait.” Charity’s gaze locked on Harry first, her smile too soft and intimate to be considered professional. Something like jealous swirled around Macy’s heart, but she brushed it aside as Charity turned to look at Mel. “I was hoping to talk to you for a moment, it’s about the Sarcana.”

“We’ll give you two a moment,” Macy turned and immediately left the room, heading for the kitchen. She wished she was better at cooking, then she could at least stay in the kitchen if she was helping get dinner ready.

Maybe she’d bake a pie.

She’d already made two, but maybe she’d try her hand at strawberry and rhubard. The fact she didn’t have either of those things in the kitchen would mean a trip to the grocery store, a reasonable enough excuse to leave the house and the heavy presence of Charity in her house.

There was that almost jealousy again, which seemed to come up in some form or another whenever Charity was around.

“Macy?” Harry had followed her, which he shouldn’t have done because they didn’t want Charity – who was, by the way, an Elder – to get the wrong idea. “Is everything okay?”

“Sure, everything’s great. Do you think we should ask your ex-girlfriend if she wants to stay for Christmas dinner?”

Macy he turned around, facing Harry over the island.

“My-“ his face had gone white and if Macy wasn’t more than a little irritated at the disruption of her perfect Christmas, she would have found it funny. “You know?”

She hoped the look she gave him was unimpressed. “That you and Charity used to be a thing? Yes, we all know.”

“Ah.”

“Maggie was the first one to figure it out,” she explained, crossing her arms in a way she knew was defensive, but still couldn’t help. Her thoughts and feelings regarding Charity were complicated to say the least. Thanks to the Elder, Macy had her powers and her sisters. She couldn’t say for certain she’d been this close to them if it hadn’t been for the constant danger and unique circumstances.

It was also because of Charity that Macy had Harry in her life now. Charity had been the one, after all, to assign Harry to the Charmed Ones. Without that decision he would have forever been a one night stand Macy dreamed about but could never have again.

On the other hand, Charity was all the things Macy wasn’t. Successful, worldly, confident. And to top it all off, she was also Harry’s ex. An ex who was a witch. Which made Macy wonder, what did all that make her? A second choice? Another bad decision?

Maybe Harry was a rule breaker, and she was handy.

And she was spiraling.

“Were you planning on telling me?” Macy finally asked.

“Eventually,” he admitted, glancing in the direction of the living room. “Though I hadn’t quite figured out how to go about it.”

Macy walked closer to him, anger bubbling to the surface. Ah, that’s what the thing which had felt like jealousy was. When she had realized she hadn’t been Harry’s first witch it had hit her like a punch to the gut, but she figured Harry would tell her, Harry would explain. But they had known Charity for months now, and he hadn’t said a word.

“You told me whitelighter and witch relationships were forbidden, and now I know you’ve been in one before? What do you expect me to do with that?”

“I don’t expect anything,” he said in the calming voice which right now made her want to step on his foot. “But if you’d like, I can explain.”

Macy thought about Charity in the next room, about how ten minutes ago she’d been full of hope and wonder at having Christmas with her sisters. She shook her head, “Now’s not the time. We’ll talk about it later.”

“Macy –“ but whatever he was about to say was interrupted by the doorbell going off once again. “Who else is here?”

“I got it,” Maggie announced loudly. Macy moved around the counter to peak into the hallway, wondering if it was going to be another elder dropping by to say hi. Instead, it was Parker at the door, his hands full with bags.

When she turned around, she saw Harry just inches away from her. She put her hand on his chest and pushed him back a step. “We should probably keep our distance while your ex is here.”

“Macy-“

She shook her head, “Later, Harry.”

Walking into the hallway she saw Maggie oohing and aahing over a necklace Parker had apparently given her. It was beautiful, and old enough to look like an antique. “Oh my god, hold on, I want to get something from my room.”

“You don’t want to put it on?” Parker asked.

“Hold on,” she hurried up the steps and Macy stood awkwardly with Parker in the entry until Maggie came back down with a small box in her hand. “Voila!”

Macy looked down and saw a jewelry box in her hands, silver with beautiful filigree and a little gemstone on the clasp. It was startling to see, because just minutes ago she’d been watching herself open almost an exact replica from Santa.

“Where did you get that?” Macy asked, her voice a little harsher than she’d intended.

Maggie smiled, her face soft and warm with memories. “From Mom, it was tradition.”

“Tradition?” Macy asked carefully.

“Mom got one when she was ten,” Mel explained, appearing from the living room. “And in it was her first grown up piece of jewelry; we each got one when we were ten. I got a necklace.”

“I got a bracelet,” Maggie added. “The clasp broke ages ago and I never got it fixed. Are you okay, Macy?”

“Yeah,” Macy blinked, her heart clenching tightly in her chest so she could barely breathe. “I just need a minute.”

She walked away and stepped outside, the cold biting and real on her skin.

“Macy?”

Turning, she saw her sisters standing the freezing temperature. “You guys should go inside, it’s freezing.”

Both of them ignored her. Instead, Mel walked close enough to put her hand on Macy’s arm. “Is everything okay? You looked a little pale inside.”

“It was the jewelry box, wasn’t it?”

“It was.”

“I’m sorry, I know you never got presents from Mom. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“It’s just the opposite, actually.” Maggie and Mel lowered their brows in the exact same way. Macy pulled her phone out of her pocket, the video she’d been watching still open in the background. “Look.”

Her younger sisters huddled together and watched the video, both of them gasping at the same time as little Macy opened her present from Santa.

“It’s just like ours.”

“Different gemstone,” Mel pointed. “Mine is sapphire. Mom said it would help with focus and inner vision.”

“Mine is rose quartz which is supposed to help with compassion and divinity.” Maggie tilted her head and smile, “I think Mom knew what our powers were going to be. What was yours?”

“Purple tourmaline,” Macy answered because the first thing she’d done after getting the present was look it up. As a kid she hadn’t put much stock in what stones meant but she’d come across the explanation in her search, and it had always stuck with her. “Balance and self-confidence.”

“I was right.” Maggie grinned and laughed softly when Macy and Mel looked at her. “Santa is real. Mom was your Santa.”

“I always thought Gram was the one who helped Dad pick out my present.” Macy put a hand over her heart. “But it was Mom.”

They were all silent for a moment as they took in the knowledge. Her mom had been there the whole time, in the background. But why? “Do you still have yours?”

“Yeah, in storage. I didn’t exactly unpack at my Air B&B.”

“You should bring your stuff home,” Mel all but ordered. Macy wasn’t offended by the tone, knew that was how her sister expressed affection. “You’ve been here for months, it’s time to unpack, Macy.”

Macy looked up and inside the house, knew Harry was in there somewhere. “Yeah, I think you might be right.”

“While we’ve got a minute, what did Charity want?”

Mel looked like she was thinking about lying but sighed heavily. “She wants me to join the Sarcana. I texted Jada and she wants to come over today to officially join.”

Both Macy and Maggie stepped forward at the same time. “Are you sure?”

Macy couldn’t imagine what joining the Sarcana might entail. “Mel, that’s an incredibly dangerous endeavor.”

“If they were a part of Mom’s death, I want to know, and this is the only way to find out. I’ll be safe,” she promised. “And I’ll be back soon.”

“You’re going now?”

“I guess the Sarcana don’t care much about Christmas Eve,” Mel shrugged. “I’ll let you guys know when I’m on my way back.”

“Have Harry take you,” Macy insisted. “He can pick you up when you’re done.”

Mel thought about it. “I’ll have him drop me off nearby. I don’t know how they’d feel about a whitelighter dropping in on their secret clubhouse. Harry!”

Instead of poofing next to them, he stepped out onto the patio as if he’d been within ear shot. “You bellowed?”

Mel ignored his sarcasm. “Can you take me to just outside the Sarcana?”

“Take you where?” he asked, eyes wide.

“I’m joining the Sarcana,” Mel explained. Before he could argue she put up her hand. “Don’t patronize me, Harry. I know what I’m doing.”

“You’re going to give me gray hairs, Melanie.”

“Nothing I can do about that Hare,” she smirked and in an instant they were gone.

“Do you think it’s weird to leave your boyfriend and an Elder in the house by themselves?” Macy asked.

“Oh, shit!” Maggie turned on her heel and hurried back inside. Because there wasn’t much else to do, Macy followed at a slower pace, and just barely caught Maggie apologizing to their guests. “I’m so sorry about that, sister thing. Parker, thank you so much for the necklace, it’s beautiful.”

“Charity,” Macy managed a smile and hoped it was convincing. “Can I get you something to drink? Some Coquito?”

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

Macy turned around and headed back towards the kitchen where the drink was in the fridge. “Where did Harry go?”

“He took Mel to the Sarcana so she wouldn’t be gone long. And if she needs backup, he’ll be close to pull her out.”

Charity smiled, “Harry was made to be a white knight.”

“Mhm.” Macy poured the drink and handed it to Charity. “Be careful, it’s strong.”

Charity nodded and took a small drink. “It was nice of you to include Harry in your festivities.”

Macy wondered at Charity’s tone, but she couldn’t decipher it. She was always so self-assured it made it difficult to detect anything else in her voice. “Harry’s family, of course we’d include him.”

“Mhm.”

She wasn’t sure what to say to that, and was grateful when Maggie brought Parker into the kitchen. “Parker has never tried coquito.”

“Until an hour ago, neither had I,” Macy reminded her with a smile.

“Here,” Charity slid the pitcher towards Parker, their hands bumping slightly when he moved to pick it up. Parker hissed like something caused him pain and in that quick instant there was a flash of blue light coming from the broach on Charity’s shirt. It looked oddly like the mark Macy had seen on Galvin.

When her gaze slid over to Parker he looked shocked, almost as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. “Are you okay?” Maggie asked, putting her hand on his shoulder.

And seeming to remember he was in pain, Parker doubled over and groaned again. “Yeah, just side effects. I’ll be fine.”

Maggie wrapped her arm around his middle. “Come on, you should sit down.”

Macy watched Maggie lead Parker away, concerned and confused by what she’d just seen.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Macy pushed her own cup of coquito away. “I think I need to stop with the alcohol.”

After a few minutes Macy went outside again, debating on whether or not to call Mama Roz to see if she could share any knowledge about Parker or the light radiating from Charity when the two touched. But if she called Mama Roz, then she’d have to explain everything, and she was pretty sure that was a no-no.

So what was she going to do?

“Hi Mama Roz, my sister’s boyfriend flinched when he touched someone and there was a magicky glow. What’s up with that?”

Macy groaned and turned back towards the house. She’d ask Harry, maybe he might-

And then everything went black.

 When Macy came back to the world, her head was killing her, her mouth was dry, and her shoulders hurt.

She groaned, or tried to until she realized there was a gag in her mouth. With a wince she opened her eyes to realize she was in the back shed, and her arms were tied up behind her. Shifting on the chair she tested the ropes, but there was no give, and she was worried about toppling herself over and breaking something if she moved too much.

If she could get rid of the gag, she could call for Harry.

It took longer than she’d like, and she panicked about halfway through, She tried distracting herself by trying to remember all the presents she’d gotten from Santa over the years, long after she’d stopped believing. When she’d asked her father about it, he’d insisted he had no control over Santa, the presents came whether anyone want them to or not. He’d smiled a little sadly at that, and Macy understood it now.

Her mother had insisted.

Panic subsiding, she was finally she able to push the cloth out of her mouth. “Harry! I need you!”

It took longer than normal for him to show up, and when he did his Christmas sweater was askew, and he looked in pain. “You just…” he waved his hand as if she had any idea what he might be talking about.

“Some help, please?”

“Right, of course.” He moved across the room and worked the knots free and she breathed a sigh of relief when the circulation returned to her hands.

She stood up the moment she could, getting feeling back in her legs. “What’s going on out there? What happened to you?”

“Someone has been pretending to be you.”

The statement was said so matter-of-factly it took a moment for Macy to understand what she’d just said. “What?”

“And then they threw me out the window.”

Macy stepped closer and put her hands on him, checking for injuries. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he assured her, though she didn’t completely believe him. Who fell out of a three-story window and was fine? He was a whitelighter, not invincible. “Who was it that grabbed you?”

She tried to remember but had only caught a flash of a reflection in the window. “I didn’t recognize him.”

Harry tugged her towards him and wrapped his arms around her, she briefly struggled against the hold. “The elders.”

“Bugger them.” He rested his cheek against her temple. “You know, I always thought we’d eventually have a fight, but I did think you’d be included when that happened. And I didn’t think there would be an actual fight involved.”

Macy chuckled against his chest.

 Christmas was nearly over.

Macy sat down on the couch, and since Harry had said ‘bugger them’ she leaned against his side as Mel and Maggie settled across from them. She slipped her hand into his as she stared at her crying sister, trying to decide on the best thing to say. “Well, um, it’s past midnight. I know it’s probably hard to get into the Christmas Spirit, but…”

“We could open presents,” Mel finished for her.

At Maggie’s tearful nod, Harry spoke up. “My three small offerings are under the tree.”

Macy sat up straight and looked at Harry, surprised at the gesture, and yet not. “Harry, that’s so sweet.”

“I’ll go get us some more coquito.”

As Mel got up, Macy leaned forward. “I’m still kind of new at this whole sister thing, is there anything I can do, Maggie?”

“No, but thanks.” She tilted her head and gestured to them, “So this is official?”

“It is for now,” Macy answered, mostly because she was too tired to get up.

“There are a lot of things we have to work through.”

“And conversations to have,” Macy added. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about Charity.”

Maggie’s smile was a little watery, but it looked slightly happier than it had been a moment ago. “Oh, the ex talk. That’s always fun.”

“Why don’t you pick out some presents, Maggie?” Harry suggested.

“That wasn’t even subtle, Harry.”

He smiled at her. “It wasn’t supposed to be, Margarita.”

“Guys, we drank all the coquito.”

“Ho ho ho.” At the voice, one which was newly familiar, Macy and her family stood and turned towards the sound and she was shocked to see Hunter standing in their living room. “Merry Christmas. You’ve been very naughty girls this year. Santa’s going to make you pay.”

He stepped forward, menacing and clearly intent on doing harm. Macy glanced around for something she could use as a weapon, anything which she could throw at him to give her and her sisters a fighting chance. But before she could summon anything a shadow appeared amongst them and stepped forward.

Parker formed from the darkness, a gold staff in his hand. “They’re not the ones who are going to pay. “Temelechus, deschide poarta.”

When he slammed the staff down onto the ground it felt as if the whole house shook beneath their feet. Macy reached out to grab onto Harry, but he’d slid a few feet away from her and was bracing himself on one of the armchairs.

Parker repeated the words, slammed the staff down one more time. “Temelechus, deschide poarta.”

The floorboards moved like a wave, shivering and falling back into place as Hunter vowed retribution. Parker picked up the rod again, but started coughing halfway through the first word, his brother’s voice mocking him.

Macy was frozen in surprise, but Mel took charge, stepping forward to take the staff and repeating the words Parker had spoken.

“Temelechus, deschide poarta.”

As she moved to help her sister, Macy caught Harry out of the corner of her eye. The shaking and moving of the floor had sent him falling to the ground, but he was safely out of Hunter’s reach so they picked up the staff again and again, repeating the words with more confidence each time as they slammed it down.

They had no idea what they were doing, but they knew Hunter didn’t want it - Which meant it was something the Charmed Ones did.

“Temelechus, deschide poarta.”

“The portal to Tartarus!” Harry yelled as the floor gave way, and a dangerously bright orange flow emanated from beneath. Even from this distance, Macy wanted to run from it, but she held on with her sisters, instinctively knowing they had to repeat the phrase until Hunter was safely trapped below.

Hunter felt the ground, slid across the floor as if something from beneath had grabbed onto him and was pulling him below.

Too late, Macy realized Harry was in danger too.

Hunter had grabbed his leg and was dragging him towards the entrance, and even though she knew it was stupid and reckless, she couldn’t risk Harry.

Macy let go of the staff and ran towards the gaping chasm in the middle of their house. She ran towards him, towards danger, and she had fingertips on him when his grip finally slipped.

“Harry!”

But the floor was back, the chasm gone, along with Harry.

#hacy #charmed #charmed reboot #charmed cw

[jackedspicer]

my worst mistake ever was giving shnitzel a crush on rhubarb because once i started shipping them i was toast

under the readmore are silly tidbits and scenarios taken straight from some of my instagram stories. it’s a bit of fun

“canon” stuff

September 27:

“lordy there are some bits and pieces about rhu and shnitzel i havent talked about yet...

for one thing. i draw them together a disproportionate amount bc in my brain they dont have THAT much screentime. itd be a sorta thing where rhubarb is in whichever episode for reasons and if shnitzel happens to be in the same room then we see the gag where he gets all stiff and DUMB [id previously talked about how he had a crush on her so bad that he locks up and gets real stupid. think of mr gar from ok ko. it’s like That.]

except there’s one episode where it’s brought to the table called Shnitzel’s Crush or some corny shit and it’s 11 minutes of the other characters mercilessly embarrassing him

also he literally never says a word about it to her. the whole time. hes silent. he just likes to give her a hand and help her with errands here and there. like carrying the heavy stuff for her stand n whatnot. she thinks hes this big sweet fella so she gives him presents sometimes

and we know hes supposed to be this big stoic guy but we already know hes a SOFTIE so you can obviously see him being secretly sweet on this nice mom lady”

November 16

“i keep thinking about a Funny Moment where mung calls rhubarb over to the catering company because shes ‘just GOT to see something’

the camera is on shnitzel who is just mopping when the door swings open and the bell rings

rhubarb walks past and says hi to him real quick and a couple beats after shes gone he just

shatters like glass

and then it just cuts to whats happening”

-

“i feel like i need to go into detail about the glass shattering

he maintains a straight face the whole time.. completely unremarkable

and after a few moments, in a fraction of a second his whole personhood CRACKS across with a glass shattering sound effect.. pieces dont fall or anything, it would be as if a window cracked all over because of something loud

his face doesnt even change hes just there all fucked up until the next shot”

-

“more than anything i am about gags where he cant function around her... over time they just get more nonsensical and painful.. i already said the shattering one but i also have one where a boulder just drops from under his apron and cracks the ground like he shat himself

the comedy of his suffering is integral to the experience”

October 5

“shnitzel will do all kinds of stupid shit just because rhubarb asked him to. there is literally no limit he just bites his tongue and does it all cause he’s not disappointing her. it’s all harmless stuff but if anybody else asked he’d be like... No

like as for the beach episode thing i posted, she asks him to bring water buckets for their sand castles, and even though part of him just kind of wants to just do the sand castle, he buckles down and brings those damn buckets! and he cant work up the NERVE to sit next to her and build a sand castle anyway so he accepts it. also chowder is there and there are too many things that could go wrong. this is his life”

November 16

“i want you to know tht rhubarb drives shnitzel to work so he doesn’t have to take the bus [this becoming routine would actually be later on but the following bit is what’s in the visible window of canon]

so the first time she gives him a ride is when he agrees to help her carry some heavy stuff for her business

and he goes up to this kind of oldish snail car and shes like ‘ahh sorry about all the bluenanas.. theyre for a bluenana bread i havent baked yet you can just put those in the back seat’ because the car is literally full of bluenanas

-

and it’s this really awkward drive because there are bluenanas EVERYWHERE and the stack of things hes holding is blocking his vision and hes almost dead silent all while shes making momversation

-

i forgot to mention that was AFTER theyd stopped at her house to get the things

she baked him cinnamini rolls as a thank you but she didnt know he was allergic so he sneezes so hard her roof caves in so they have to call his cousin beef stroganoff [a chowder oc i made ironically] and his son banzo [short for garbanzo] over to fix it [this was a reference to a post on here about a landlord’s son bonzo coming over to fix op’s roof with a blowtorch].. he ends up taking the cinnamini rolls as payment

-

well okay it’s not the first sneeze that caves the roof in, first he sneezes and shes like ‘oh no! im so sorry let me get you a tissue!!!’ n when she comes back theres MORE snot so she leaves again and comes back with a BATH TOWEL and THEN he caves the roof in”

November 5

[i was talking about how rhubarb’s dream was to have her own bakery before i led up to this bit]

“and in the scenario that takes place 20 years in the future, theyre married as id said before, except mung daal is telling chowder ‘because you never grew up, shnitzel got fed up and left the catering company!’

and then we see him happily married and co-running a bakery with rhubarb. as if that’s a bad thing

‘you fucked up, chowder. you ruined a perfectly good shnitzel is what you did. look at him. he’s got dignity.”

November 9

[this next bit can be attached to the previous thing i said. it’s an ongoing Thing but it’s only seen when theyre like obviously married onscreen]

whenever rhubarb calls shnitzel by a little cutesy nickname he gets all bashful.. he cant take it bro

this burly 7 foot man gets called ‘pumpkin pie’ and absolutely melts”

---

*this was all the stuff i had so far on various stories that take place “onscreen” since i figured i’d get caught up and start posting all the junk i had lying around. i have other tidbits too that take place between the sorta goofy window of canon and the 20-year timeskip, which i might get into on another post. thanks for reading xoxo i love u

#in my head the most of her interactions are w other characters but their dynamic is the most entertaining to me so i zero in on it #u know how like u have tiers of whats canon/for real and what’s just you screwing around. yeah #draws #rhubarb #chowder oc #shnitzel #and yeah the drawings are old too they were from a hot minute ago #chowder

[thotfuss]

I kind of agree with the other Annonymous writer, I have both your ex and your feed. She apologizes for the things she did wrong and never says a bad word about you. She fully admits to things. It does feel wrong to keep calling her out as an abuser because she has been getting targeted and crucified because of your words. Is that not just as bad really? Friends and family, of course, will always take your side ALWAYS. You should listen to your heart. I am sure you loved her once.

I’ll be honest, I wrote a really angry stream of consciousness response to this, deleted it, considered not answering this at all, wrote out an actual response, told myself I didn’t owe it to anyone to explain, deleted that, and then wrote it again. Maybe this is my fault for talking about it or referencing it on here, but I never used her url or name, and I never went into detail. I saw it as me using my own blog to express my feelings, which, maybe I shouldn’t have. So I’m sorry if that’s the case. i was never “calling her out,” simply expressing my own feelings on my personal blog, i’m sorry if that was irresponsible. But I am not okay with the messages I’ve been getting lately. This is one of...5 similar ones sitting in my inbox rn? So I am NOT answering this to put my ex on blast or to target and crucify her, and I DON’T owe this explanation to anyone but for my own peace of mind I’m going to explain! (under a read more for abuse tw)

First of all, even if she DID admit to things she did wrong and apologizes for them, it doesn’t make it...not abuse? I seriously doubt she’s getting targeted and crucified, I haven’t posted her URL on here, haven’t even used her NAME, and her family and friends were extremely supportive of her and her actions when all this was happening.

It took me MONTHS to even be able to consider labeling what happened as abuse. Even after my therapist, my family, my friends, EVERYONE who knew about even a FRACTION of what was going on, had said that it was categorically emotional abuse I still felt like i was exaggerating or asking for attention. and to be honest, I still feel like that! 

My ex was insecure. I wrote everything that happened off as her being insecure for SO long, because every time I brought up an issue she would say I “wasn’t supporting her,” and that I should “know how it felt” because of my own issues with mental illness. But when I look back at some of the things that happened-I went to visit my sister back in September, and when I told my ex, she threatened to break up with me if I went. She also threatened to break up with me after my sister gave me a string bracelet she’d made me before leaving for college, because my ex thought that if I put it on, I’d be “replacing her.” I wasn’t allowed to hang out with my family in any capacity unless she was there. I wasn’t allowed to have other friends, I wasn’t even allowed to spend time by myself. She got angry if I spent time on homework, if I went home to do laundry, even if I wanted to sleep. She would say I’d rather sleep than spend time with her, so I was averaging 5 hours of sleep on a GOOD night. she lived about 30 minutes away from me, and I work a lot of night shifts. 

I would often go home before going to her place to change, feed my frog, etc, and she would get FURIOUS over this. She forced me to keep my location services on at all times, despite my telling her that it made me incredibly anxious and paranoid. If she saw me at my parents’ house, my apartment, the store, ANYWHERE without me having told her that I was going there, she would call me until I picked up and explained. 

She forced me to put her fingerprint into my phone so that she could go through my phone whenever she wanted. When I expressed discomfort, I was told both by her and her mother (who genuinely thought everything I’m outlining was an okay way to treat someone, which made it really hard for ME to tell that it wasn’t because I was surrounded on all sides by people telling me the opposite) that if I didn’t have anything to hide, it shouldn’t be an issue. She read through old chats of mine, and got upset about things I’d said to people before I’d even MET her-telling my friends I loved them, etc. She would monitor my social media activity, and if I was active somewhere and hadn’t messaged her back in a few minutes, she would call me repeatedly until I picked up. If I didn’t pick up immediately-If I was in class, at work, asleep, etc, she would later cite that as a reason she couldn’t trust me.  There was one morning where I woke up and she had turned my alarm off, and was on my phone scrolling through my phone calls and asking why I had called a certain number the day before but hadn't called her (I had called my dentist's office to reschedule an appointment.) While I was at work, she texted me calling me a fucking asshole and a cheater, based off of this situation alone.

I’m an art major, and I draw a lot! I like drawing portraits, I’ll sketch people in class, etc, and when she saw that she would accuse me of being in love with the nameless stranger I’d sketched in the coffee shop or something. She told me that the figure drawing class I was taking was “basically cheating,” to the point that I dropped out of it. She would go through my sketchbook constantly, which is something that’s very personal to me and I told her this. She once again cited that if I didn’t have anything to hide, it should be fine. She got angry at me for drawing fictional characters, even guys, which. I’m a lesbian! But she would get jealous and have a meltdown. 

She CONSTANTLY accused me of looking at other girls in public, even though I truly never was. I was driving us home from somewhere once, and looked in my sideview mirror to merge lanes, and she thought I was checking out the girl who was walking by on the sidewalk and blew up at me. Multiple times, she would get upset at me while we were driving somewhere and try to jump out of my moving car over an issue such as the one I just mentioned. 

She would get mad when I wore makeup to class or work, or even dresses or nice clothes. I would tell her that I just LIKED that dress, or that I just enjoyed doing makeup, and she would say I was only doing it to ‘impress other girls.’ On the other hand, she got upset several times when I DIDN’T wear makeup when we went out, because she said I wasn’t making an effort for her. 

She got upset at me when I didn’t finish meals, which she said triggered her own issues. I explained several times that my own anxiety (not food-related, just general) messed with my appetite a LOT, and made it hard for me to eat sometimes. 

She also gets mad when I don't finish my food, and stuff like that. I get that that's because of her eating disorder, obviously, but she still takes it out on me. All of this, when I react defensively or show that I'm hurt by her accusations, she says that i'm not giving her the "reassurance" she needs.

When I brought any of this up, she would have a melt down and cite her insecurities and mental health issues. I have major anxiety and depression issues, I've been hospitalized for it before and go to therapy once a week and am also on a lot of medication for it. When I had depressive episodes, bad days, or anxiety attacks, she would often get mad at me, and said I was sulking, or she said that it must mean I didn’t love her because she didn’t make me happy enough. I usually ended up comforting her over it.

On the anxiety note, I also tend to break out in a rash on my chest and neck when I'm anxious, and I will clarify that this looks NOTHING like hickeys. My neck gets red and blotchy, and I get itchy. when this happens, she LOST it every time without fail, melting down and telling me over and over "stop lying! just tell me who it was who did you do this with," etc, etc.

She told me that if we broke up, she would probably let her own mental health issues get worse, and would stop eating all together. She also flat out LIED about this when I brought it up later, saying that I was the one who had threatened to hurt myself if we broke up. She told me this, and other people this, and made up similar stories, so much that I started to believe it. I was apologizing for my own existence by the end of it, for every word out of my mouth, I was going crazy. I didn’t even REALIZE how bad it was, until I mentioned to my sister that I hadn’t driven the 30 mins over to her house one night due to the bad weather, and she had called me and called me until I picked up, forced me to send her pictures of the roads(?) and then said she’d “rather have someone who would drive on bad roads for her.” This wasn’t even near the worst thing that had happened, but the fact that my sister CRIED over that made me take a step or two back. And I left. Like...a few weeks after that. and it was HARD, it was the hardest thing I”ve EVER had to do, because i GENUINELY thought I was condemning someone to die. Like she fucked me up that bad! I still feel guilty. But I did it! She told me that nobody else would ever love me like her, that nobody would accept my mental health issues, etc, but guess what! I did it! 

And she STILL tried to contact me, refused to leave me alone, showed up at my WORK with a letter and flowers wanting to work it out (and sure she says this was romantic, whatever, but she forced me to unblock her number and hug her and now cites that as me “still feeling the same”) and made like...several different accounts to message me on here after I kept blocking the new ones she made. 

I have NO idea what she’s saying about me, and I don’t care. I want more than anything to move on. I hope she’s happy, I do! I get really, really, angry about it sometimes and I feel horrible for the way her isolating me made me cut off some very important people in my life. I’m still hurting, but i’m HAPPY. I want to move on, I don’t want this to be who I am, it doesn’t define me and I’d love to move on and meet other people and not have this fucking haunting me! And she keeps finding ways to bring it up. I wish her no ill will, and I”m not saying she’s a bad person. I’m not! But I am entitled to my feelings in the matter, I”m allowed to say that it sucked, I’m ALLOWED to say that it was abuse because there are things that happened that I haven’t even told my therapist, because it’s too hard to think about. I’m allowed to move on. Please, please allow me to move on. 

I’m not going to answer anything else about this, maybe I shouldn’t have talked about it in any capacity on here, maybe that’s my fault. But please stop messaging me about it. 

#abuse

[rockbell1003]

Hay fever and Headaches

Alright so I’m not entirely sure how I feel about this fic but I’ve been working on it for a while now and I’m just gonna say YOLO and post it. As always I hope you enjoy reading about Mal and Kai and feel free to message or send me asks if you wanna know more about them :)

I stifled a yawn against the back of my hand as I waited for my suitcase at the baggage claim, my eyes peeled for its blue plaid print. The flight from Chicago to Boston wasn’t necessarily a long one but I’ve always found flying alone a bit stressful, which was now catching up with me. Once I snagged my suitcase off the carousel I weaved my way through the crowd and parked myself next to an empty bench to check my phone. Kai had flown in a few days before me, to help his brother with the preparations for his wedding this weekend. The plan was for Kai to pick me up, but I had no new messages and I wasn’t quite sure where we were meeting. I scrolled through our previous messages just in case he had sent me more info that I missed, when I suddenly felt something cold and wet against my cheek.

“Holy-” I jumped and looked over to see Kai standing next to me with a Starbucks frappuccino in his hand that he was still holding dangerously close to my face, “ jeezus you scared me,” I muttered. Kai, looking overall pleased with himself just smiled, “you are so lucky that you’re cute,” I said as I took the drink from him.   

Kai laughed, “I know flying alone stresses you out, so I thought it would help,” he bent down to take my suitcase and I took a sip of my drink, a Double Chocolatey Chip Frappuccino, which was delicious.

I narrowed my eyes, “You just know that the only way I’d forgive you for scaring me like that is with chocolate.” 

Kai shrugged, “maybe, or maybe I just wanted to greet my girlfriend with her favorite Starbucks drink,” he bent down to kiss me, “snf how was the flight?”

My ears perked up at the sniff but I didn’t comment on it, “it was fine, watched a lot of Naruto. How’ve you been?” I glanced up at him, trying to discreetly discern whether or not he contracted one of his travel colds or if he was suffering from hay fever. His hair was disheveled, as if he had run his hands through it a few times but his eyes looked clear and his nose didn’t look pink. 

Kai caught my staring and immediately knew what I was doing, “I’m fine Mal, just a little sniffly from the pollen, nuh..huh..thing to worry abou..huh-ITCHuh..snfl.” Kai brought his fist up to his nose to give it a quick rub. His cheeks tinged a bit pink from embarrassment at his poor attempt at denial and he wouldn’t look at me.

I let it slide and took another sip from my drink, “alright, so where we off to then?” 

Kai’s free hand grabbed mine as we made our way outside, “we’ll drop your things off at James’s and then we’ll meet up with him, Hannah, and the rest of my family for dinner.” 

Preoccupied with my delicious chocolate concoction I just nodded and followed his lead. 

✾ 

Looking over at Kai from my seat at the table I was mentally calling him out on his bullshit. His nose had gradually gotten pinker since he picked me up from the airport and I had counted five sneezes since we'd arrived at the restaurant. He brushed it off well, so that he wouldn’t worry his family but he couldn’t fool me. 

“So Mallory how was your flight?”  I turned my gaze away from Kai to his younger sister Erika who was sitting next to me. 

I smiled, “It was good, I managed to get through a good few episodes of Naruto and they gave out some really good crackers,” 

Erika laughed, “that’s always a bonus, sometimes plane peanuts just don’t cut it,” 

I smiled and agreed with her and we continued to chat until our food arrived, and since the only thing I had today was said plane crackers and my Starbucks version of a chocolate milkshake, I was starved. Perhaps a bit too eagerly I dug into my pasta and it was delicious.

“Taste good?” I looked up to see Kai smiling across from me as he gestured to the fork full of noodles. I swallowed and felt heat rise into my cheeks, hoping that the rest of his family didn’t notice, I nodded not trusting my voice….I also had no desire to stop eating. 

“What did you get? Snf” Kai asked as he ate a forkful of his own dinner. 

I swallowed my current mouthful and stabbed another noodle with my fork, “I got the pesto cavatappi, wanna try some?”

I started to scoot my plate closer to his so I could scoop out some of my noodles but I stopped when I saw Kai reach for his napkin and bring it up around his nose and mouth, “heptCH..huh..hih..giTCH-uh..snf” it took Kai a moment before he lowered his napkin back to his lap and everyone including myself offered him a bless you. A bit embarrassed, Kai just nodded in response and took the fork out of my hand to scoop some of my dish onto his plate. Once he was done and he raised his head to look at me, I gave him a look. The kind that meant, you know I saw that and now I know so don’t you dare lie to me about it but I’m not gonna bring it up cuz your family is sitting right next to us, his response was a small smile and mouthing the words, “I’m fine” so he didn’t draw any unwanted attention or worry from his family. I rolled my eyes and went back to my pasta, he could try to keep it a secret all he wants but there was no way in hell that I’d let him continue to hide it from me. 

✾ 

I was exhausted, moments away from a food induced coma and my head started to pound  from the long day I had. I wanted nothing more than to shower and faceplant into a nice comfy bed next to my obviously allergy suffering boyfriend...but said boyfriend had other ideas, like being a pain in the ass. 

We were staying in James and Hannah’s guest room while we visited, I sat on the bed to take off my shoes and Kai was rummaging through his suitcase, “James is gon..huh..hah..na hNXT-uh go out fo...hih hiITCH-uh drinks with some friends snfl… I think I’m gonna join him,”

I set my shoes down next to where Kai placed my suitcase and then turned to face him, “Are you going to take anything?”

Kai’s hands paused for a moment but he continued to rummage through his belongings, “Snf, I’m fine Mal, nothing to worry about,”

 I raised an eyebrow but he had already turned away from me and brought an arm up to his face, “ISHHOOOO...heiiSHOOO….SHOOO..Snf” 

“Bless you,” I said and handed him a tissue I took from the nightstand. He made a sound of acknowledgement in the back of his throat and proceeded to blow his nose. That’s when I knew something wasn’t right, whenever I would bless him he would always respond with I love you, at least when it was just the two of us. It was silly and kind of embarrassing at first but he always said it back even if he felt like shit so at this point I’m concerned.

 “are you sure you’re okay?” I asked again a bit more timidly as I lightly rested my hand on his arm. 

“‘m fine,” he replied, bringing the tissue back up to his nose to give it a quick swipe. I brought a hand up to rub my forehead in an attempt to ease the pain of my headache, it didn’t do much to help the pain or my waning patience. 

“Alright, fine do whatever you want,” I said as I started unzipping my suitcase, “sorry that I care about you and the fact that ever since dinner you’ve been acting weird but I guess that’s none of my business apparently,” with more force than intended I opened my suitcase and some of my clothes fell out onto the floor, “since you’re being so stubborn about it I’ll just shut up and take a shower-”

“Are you okay?”

I looked up from searching for my pajamas to see Kai staring at me, his nose was noticeably redder than before. His fist pressed against the underside of his nostrils with the tissue I gave him crumpled in it. I roughly rubbed my forehead again, “no, not really, my head hurts and I’m worried about you but you’re being a stubborn ass-” I paused realizing what I had just said. I sighed and restarted, “I’m sorry, but my head hurts and I’m tired so before I say anything else that I’m gonna regret I’m gonna go shower,” I stood up, having finally found my pajamas and toiletries and walked over to the door.

“Mal, wait I’m uh...huh..heIISHOO..heITCH”

It might have been a bit mean of me but I didn’t stop to bless him this time, “have fun with James and your friends tonight. I’ll see you later,” I left the guest room and walked into the bathroom closing the door behind me.

✾ 

I let out a sigh as the hot water sprayed me in the face, I had a habit of speak first think later which normally just led me to saying something stupid or embarrassing. However, sometimes like today it leads me to say things I don’t mean. A habit that always seems to bite me right in the ass. As I stood under the spray I couldn’t help but replay what had happened in my head, I could’ve handled it better. I should’ve handled it better, I shouldn’t have pressed him and then bit his head off when he didn’t outright tell me what was wrong. Unlike me Kai doesn’t act without thinking things through- I let out another sigh and rub my head. No matter how much I think about what happened, it doesn’t change the fact that it did. It also didn’t help my headache. A bit reluctantly I shut off the water and stepped out of the shower and changed into my pajamas. 

“HUH!DJjj’SSHHtt!Uoo-HERRUSSSHHOOO!..ugh” Startled I opened the bathroom door to see Kai sitting to the side of the doorframe, his right hand scrubbing hard at his nose. 

“Kai, what’re you-?” I began to ask but I was stopped by Kai holding his hand up in a ‘one moment’ gesture before succumbing to more sneezes.

“HUH!Heh-HEPTCHUU...heh...hePTCH,” slowly Kai pulled himself up from the floor and scrubbed at his nose. His eyes were pink and were set on his feet, his nose red and twitchy. He overall looked like he would fall over if I just blew on him, taking his hand I tugged him into the bathroom and set him down on top of the toilet seat. 

“I’m sorry,” I said as I handed him a wad of tissues, he took them and cupped them around his face, alternating nostrils he blew his nose clearing the congestion. Once he was finished he bunched the wad in his left hand and grabbed my hand with his right. 

“Why are you apologizi’g?” he asked, his voice still a little congested, he sniffled, “I’m the one who...hih...whuh..hiNXTch-uh..sngk,” Kai turned his head to stifle into his shoulder, “fugk, snfl” he brought the wad of tissues up to his face and sniffled. 

I gave his hand a small squeeze, “bless you,” 

Kai turned back to face me and smiled his nose twitching, “lobve you,” I reached over to the vanity and pulled out a few more tissues, Kai tossed the used ones into the wastebasket and accepted the new ones from my hand. A bit reluctantly he released my other hand in order to properly blow his nose, with both hands steepled over his nose. 

“I’m sorry that I got mad and bit your head off,” I said, Kai paused his blowing but kept his hands and the tissues over his nose, “I was just worried about you.”  

He brought his hands down and proceeded to toss the used tissues into the wastebasket, “I know,” he clasped his hands together and let out a sigh, “I just wanted things to be perfect,” 

I placed my hand over his, “what do you mean?”

Kai purposefully wriggled his nose to dispel a tickle, “My brother is getting married in a few days and I..ih..hih..hiINXTch..uh, snfl, I didn’t want this,” he freed one of his hands from my grasp and gestured to his face, “to ruin it.” 

I raised an eyebrow, “so you thought denying that you have hay fever and not taking antihistamines was the answer?”

Kai let out a sigh and his shoulders drooped, “yes...no, I don’t know, it was stupid and I’m sorry that I made you worry,” he brought our conjoined hands up to his lips and pressed a light kiss to the back of my hand, “how’s the headache?”

I gave a small smile, “let’s just say I’m ready to take some Advil and crash for the night.” Suddenly Kai stood up and pulled me into our bedroom across the hall, sitting me on the bed before walking back out. Confused, I called out to him, “Kai, what’re you doing?”

My response however was a flurry of sneezes, “HAAAAESSCHEWWW!! HEPCHEWWWW!!! Heh...heh..HEESSSSCHEWWWW...sngkl...ugh, I’b taki’g care of you dow,” 

“Bless you!” I called out as he made his way back into our room with a glass of water in one hand and my toiletry bag in the other. 

“Lobve you,” he replied before handing me the glass, “here gibve be a bombend,” he asked before rummaging through the toiletry bag to find what he was looking for. As he did I reached over to the nightstand and grabbed him more tissues. “Here,” I looked up to see Kai holding out his hand which held my Advil in it. 

“Thank you,” I told him as I held out my own with the tissues and we exchanged our goodies. Once done I set my glass on the nightstand and curled up on the bed, closing my eyes as Kai shut off the lights. I felt the mattress dip with his weight as he adjusted himself to fit against my body, placing an arm loosely over me. I opened my eyes to take his hand, playing with his fingers, “I forgot to ask,” Kai hummed in response to let me know that he was listening, “what happened to drinks with your brother?”

Kai pulled me closer mumbling into my hair, “this is more important,” 

Smiling I closed my eyes and drifted off into a much needed sleep in the comfort of his arms.

#kaito and mallory #snz fic #snz oc

[hongism]

finding beauty in your darkest places chapter 5

Pairing: TBA (i have no clue at the moment, ot7 for now)

Genre: Psychiatric Clinic!au, Heavy Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 8310

Warnings: strong language; deals with mental and emotional illnesses and disorders as a heavy theme of the story, future graphic depictions of disorders - please do not read if this makes you uncomfortable

Rating: PG-13/Mature

Summary: Everyone has their issues, and everyone deals with them differently. Jungkook thinks that avoiding his problems is the best option out there.

aka

Jeon Jungkook is the newest patient at the Omelas Specialized Psychiatric Clinic, and he just wants to get in and out as quickly as possible so that he can go back to university and be with his friends again. Of course, that doesn't work out according to his plan.

a/n: to the dearest person who said in the survey that they just want hobi to be okay, I'm crying ;-; that’s the purest most wholesome thing ever. also i’m sorry in advance :/

Chapter:

4 | 5 | 6

Finding Beauty in Your Darkest Places

Chapter 5: Falling in a White Room

After almost two weeks, Jungkook can still say with utmost confidence that he despises white rooms. There lies a suffocating stillness in the monotonous walls, and he would rather be anywhere else if he had the opportunity. Alas, he has nowhere to go, especially now as the clock is drawing nearer and nearer to 11:27. His hands won't find a suitable resting position, either gripping his bed sheets or sweatpants in a tight grasp, and the ever growing pit of uneasiness in his stomach continues to nag at his thoughts. He cannot tell whether the anxiety surrounds the danger of getting caught tonight or having to face you again after the argument that passed in the afternoon.

"You are nothing but a means to an end."

That line hasn't left Jungkook's thoughts since it tumbled from your lips, but he has no intention of forcing it out of his mind either because it serves as some sort of cruel reminder. Maybe a reminder that he overstepped a very clear boundary, or that he's gotten too comfortable in only two weeks at the clinic, or even that you aren't a friend to him — not even close. Friends have the luxury of knowing things about each other. You have drawn the line between any possible sort of friendship he could have with you. So yes, Jungkook knows that he is nothing. Nothing but a means to an end to you, and nothing to everyone else in the clinic. That's life, isn't it?

"Jungkook? You there?" Jimin is the one to cut Jungkook free from the confines of his thoughts, bringing him back to the reality of the dimly lit room. Jungkook looks up and finds Taehyung's and Jimin's stares from where they sit on Taehyung's bed. "I asked if you wanted to join the next game." Jimin motions to the playing cards on the bed before him, and Jungkook shakes his head before he finishes speaking.

"Sorry, I'm not feeling it right now." Jimin shrugs, gaze lingering on Jungkook's fidgeting form for a few more seconds, and then redirects his attention to Taehyung.

"You know that Miyeon is getting better?" He asks, and whilst the question is not meant for Jungkook, he listens in anyways.

"Oh?" Taehyung lowers his cards a bit but remains more focused on the game rather than Jimin's attempts at conversation.

"Eunbi was telling me about it after dinner. She said Miyeon hasn't thrown up in over three weeks — a new record for her — and she seems to be in a much better mood nowadays."

"Now that you mention it, I kinda noticed that. Well, the mood part at least. Do you think...do the doctors think she's doing well?"

"Hm? Oh apparently so. Miyeon told me that they've given her a lot more privileges and are letting her go out more. If this keeps up, then she could be gone by the end of the month. Two months at the latest, I'd say." Gone by the end of the month… All that talk about how patients stay for such a long time, and yet now we're talking about someone leaving? Seems so strange.

"Do you really think so?" Taehyung voices the surprise Jungkook feels. "I mean, it seems kinda early? Soon? She's only been at the clinic since the beginning of the year." Nine months? That's not nearly as long as everyone claims it to be. I wonder…maybe I can get out that quickly too? Jungkook's knee begins to bounce up and down on its own accord, leaving the bed to squeak along with the movement. Both Jimin and Taehyung glance in his direction.

"Sorry," Jungkook mutters, then presses his palms against his knees to keep them from moving any more.

"It's early, yea, but she's been on top of her medications and appointments. Everything is going well for her, and she really seems to want to get past this so it makes sense that she's managed to do so well in such a short amount of time." Jimin pauses to heave a deep sigh, eyeing his cards with pursed lips before continuing with his train of thought. "Eunbi isn't ready for her to go though. She says she doesn't know what she'll do if she has a room to herself again."

"We can help keep her grounded for awhile! If it gets too bad, that is."

"Miyeon has become the one to reign her in and bring her back to reality whenever an episode hits. You can't just replace someone like that at the drop of a hat."

"At the drop of a hat? What does that mean?"

"Ah, it's just a saying, Tae. What I'm trying to say is that it's like your bear. We can't just give you a new one and expect you to be okay." Jungkook bites down hard on his tongue, and even though he knows both Jimin and Taehyung are aware of your intentions to sneak around at some point, you specifically told Jungkook not to breathe a word. I just wanna say that it'll be alright. I want to tell him that we're going to find it tonight. For reassurance only, but I can't even do that. Jimin continues speaking without hesitation, unaware of Jungkook's sudden panic and rigidness on his side of the room. "It would be great if the nurses could move someone into her room, but there isn't anyone who would be willing or able to."

"I'll miss Miyeon if she does go," Taehyung admits as he drops the cards to the bed. "She always humors me when I wanna talk about something random and laughs at my jokes too! Unlike you." He pokes his tongue out at Jimin, who scoffs back.

"They aren't funny though. She's just being nice!" Taehyung ignores Jimin's retorts, returning with a sigh much like Jimin's earlier one.

"Won't it be weird if she goes all the sudden? I've gotten used to her being a part of our group." Jimin merely hums in response. Jungkook glances down at his watch, eyes chasing after the second hand that ticks around in its methodical, rhythmic circle on its trip. His hand is unstable, a tremble taking hold of his whole arm from his shoulder to the tips of his fingers, but Jungkook focuses more on the time rather than the shaking of his hand.

"It's past eleven. Won't you get in trouble for not being in your room by now?" He inquires, question directed towards the man he stares at now, and Jimin responds by pushing his tongue through his lips and poking the corner of his mouth. He rolls his eyes as he looks up at Jungkook.

"The last thing I wanna do now is go back to my room. I seriously can't stand living with Yesung, especially after Y/N slapped him. I swear, it feels like we've been living with each other for one week and not over a year now. We butt heads most of the time already, but it's hell during a switch." Jimin drops the cards held in between his fingers and shrugs before saying, "I may as well go back before the nurses make it to my room though."

"Oh, did Yesung only get here a year ago?" Jungkook asks, interest peaked at the information Jimin presented.

"Nah, he came over two years ago but moved into my room when Hoseok arrived at the clinic. He needed a room to himself, according to the nurses, and I wasn't in a position to argue with them."

"Why weren't you roommates with Taehyung? That seems like a logical decision given that the two of you are friends."

"I'm sure they would've paired us up if they had the chance to, but I already had a roommate when Tae arrived. Not much of an opportunity there." Jimin shrugs once more, tucking the cards together until they form a neat stack, then passes the deck over to Taehyung. As soon as he has his hands on them, Taehyung begins reorganizing all the work Jimin did to make them neat. He sets them out on the mattress again, only to pick the cards up one by one in perfect order based on number and suit and color.

"How long have you been at the clinic then?" Although the question leaves his lips with great hesitance, Jimin meets his inquiry with a quick shake of his head. Jungkook almost thinks that he's telling him that he's asked the wrong question and to drop the topic, but Jimin starts speaking again and melts Jungkook's worries. He taps his chin, one short index finger against the smooth expanse of skin there. A laugh cuts through the silence surrounding them.

"It doesn't really matter, does it?"

"Oh, y-yea sorry for asking. I shouldn't have pried."

"I don't mind, don't worry. It's more that I don't particularly like broadcasting the length of my stay here. Part of me feels a bit ashamed about it because no matter how hard I try, I can't get better. As happy as I am for Miyeon for getting better and doing well in such a short amount of time, I can't help but to feel bitter because she's doing what I can't do. Despite all our similarities, I can't do the little things she has been able to achieve in only nine months. Allowing others to know how long it's taken me just to make the minimal progress that I have…ah never mind. It's too late for this! We don't need such serious talk at this hour. Goodnight Jungkook, goodnight Tae!" Jimin hops off Taehyung's bed without another word, making a beeline for the door and whisking out of it before anyone can stop him (neither Taehyung or Jungkook really make an effort to however). Once the door snaps shut, Taehyung and Jungkook find themselves in another lingering silence. After a few minutes of Jungkook watching Taehyung sort the playing cards and tuck them away in the drawer of his end table, Taehyung breaks the quiet with a drawn out sigh.

"I feel terrible for Jimin. Don't tell him I said anything to you, but…I wish there was more I could do for him. He's always putting me first and trying to do things for me but never looks out for himself. I wish he would let me help too." Taehyung thumbs the material of his linens, tugging at the sheets without direction, then flips over to turn off his desk light. "I'm gonna go to sleep. I don't feel good right now." Jungkook watches the man crawl under his sheets through the dim yellow light of his own lamp. Taehyung places his back to Jungkook, and the bed creaks as he tries to settle into a comfortable position.

Jungkook still has over twenty minutes to kill before it's time for him to meet with you, so once he's certain that Taehyung's breathing is steady enough for sleep, he tugs the journal pressed between his mattress and the bed frame out. Flipping to Jimin's designated page, he quickly begins to scribble down all the new information, including new pages for Eunbi and Miyeon.

The sound of the door sliding open startles Jungkook out of his reverie, pen scraping a bit too roughly across the page and leaving an ugly black streak through the words. He jerks his head up to see who stands in the doorway. It's Nurse Irene, who is accompanied by an unfamiliar young nurse.

"Mr. Jeon and — I'm assuming Mr. Kim is asleep already?" Nurse Irene speaks in a loud and clear tone, no care about the fact that Taehyung is trying to sleep only a couple feet away from where she stands. Jungkook nods in response, pressing his journal closer to his lap and attempting to hide it from view as best he can. "Good. Sleep well, Mr. Jeon. Remember the rules." Nurse Irene's small monologue is a routine one, something she says every time she comes by to check the room at night, so it shouldn't come as a surprise to Jungkook. Yet the fact that he actually is planning on breaking the rules tonight sends a surge of panic through his system, and he looks away from the nurse before she recognizes the sudden panic on his features. The door shuts again a moment later, and Jungkook is in the clear. At least, clear enough to return to his musings over his journal and review all the work he added to the ink-marred pages. His peace and quiet doesn't last long, and before he knows it, there is another noise at the door — a series of sharp raps this time. Jungkook glances at his watch, and a string of curses leaves his lips as he drops his journal and shoves the pen somewhere between the pages then rushes to get to the door as quietly as he can without disturbing Taehyung. He doesn't check to see who is standing on the other side, because he already knows and he is well aware that you are not going to be happy to see him.

"You are fifteen seconds late." You grip Jungkook's sleeve and spit the words out between gritted teeth. He barely has enough time to slide the door shut before you are tugging him down the hallway.

"I-I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? Sorry doesn't give us more time! I specifically told you two and a half minutes was all we had. Now you've wasted thirty seconds and kept me waiting."

"Ah, you're being too loud!" Jungkook tries to keep his voice down. "Taehyung is trying to sleep." You pause at the revelation, and Jungkook sees worry flash across your eyes through the darkness. You shake away the emotion and turn away, hand dropping from his sleeve. Jungkook chases after you, struggling to make out your form against the darkness. "Do — do you have a flashlight? I can barely see."

"It's not that dark, you'll be fine." You retort and follow it up with a scoff that seems to echo through the hall. "Are you scared of the dark, Jungkookie?"

"What? No! I can't see well and have no clue where we're going. It's not like I know my way around here in the dark."

"Shh, people are trying to sleep. Just follow the sound of my voice if you think you'll get lost." Jungkook trails after you, and his eyes slowly become more adjusted to the darkness. Ah, I forgot to turn my lamp off. I hope that doesn't keep Taehyung up. He watches your back, being sure to not let too much distance grow between the two of you, and as silence takes over, his mind revisits the argument you had earlier in the day. And, of course, that little nagging comment which refuses to leave Jungkook's mind.

"You are nothing but a means to an end."

Nothing. He doesn't bring the topic up again — partially because he's concerned you might repeat what you said with more vehemence, but also because he can't even tell whether you remember it or not. Did she really mean what she said? Was it just a defense mechanism to protect herself? Jungkook gnaws on the inside of his lower lip, pinching the skin there until it breaks under the pressure of his teeth. When the metallic taste of blood touches his tongue, he stops and lets it coat the inside of his mouth as though it will prevent him from saying anything he might regret. Does she even feel sorry for saying those things?

Jungkook doesn't have the opportunity to continue down that train of thought because you've stopped and are bending over a door handle. He listens closely to the series of clicks and noises that come next, a few curses muttered from your lips slipping in on occasion, then the door swings open with a bit too much force and hits the wall with a bang. You huff and straighten your back, a cocky smirk spread across your lips that Jungkook can only see because your teeth are reflecting what little light there is. You step into the laundry room first, hitting the light switch as you go and filling the room with light that hurts to look at.

"That would've been a lot easier if we had thirty extra seconds of time." The backhanded comment stings as much as the open wound in Jungkook's mouth. He frowns and avoids looking at you. "Lighten up, Jungkookie. We have a job to do."

"Won't the cameras catch the light coming from here?" Jungkook redirects the conversation in hopes of changing the topic, and you take the bait.

"No, the cameras don't cover the laundry room or outside the door. They're mainly for checking the hallway with all the bedrooms and other areas where patients would be. The laundry room isn't exactly a place where we should be, so they didn't bother to put cameras over here." Why did she worry about us getting here so quickly then? Jungkook pushes that thought aside in favor of joining you by the dryers. "Um, go through all the dryers. I'll start looking through the clothes bins and cabinets." Jungkook does as asked, opening the dryers one at a time to search for Taehyung's bear.

"What does the bear look like?"

"It's just a typical stuffed bear, looks like any other one you'd see in a store."

"Why can't you just get a replacement or give Taehyung one of the other stuffed animals you have in your room?" Jungkook pulls his head out of one of the dryers to look at you over his shoulder.

"I can't just 'get him a new one', Jungkook. I gave Taehyung this specific bear for a reason, and giving him a new one won't fix anything."

"I'm confused still."

"And I'm not sure what you want me to say."

"I mean, Jimin said something similar earlier but it didn't make sense then either."

"I can't make you understand."

"Yeah, forget it." Jungkook huffs and moves onto the next dryer. You and Jungkook continue your respective searches in silence, neither bothering to attempt conversation again. Jungkook double checks the dryers again after his initial run-through but still comes up short on finding the bear. He looks back in your direction, watching as you dig through the same bin of clothes he saw you start with. "Any luck?" He asks and shuts the dryers.

"No. I can't find it. Did you see it in the dryers?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I double checked and everything."

"Let's switch. You go through the bins and cabinets, I'll check the dryers."

"Y/N, we already looked through them." Jungkook presses his palms against his knees and pushes himself up to stand straight.

"Maybe we missed something." You spin on your heel and go for the dryers, but Jungkook grabs hold of your arm.

"It's not here. We should go check the kitchen because looking over and over again won't help," he urges, motioning towards the door.

"We must have missed something."

"No, Y/N. It's not here. Please, can we go to the kitchen now?" Jungkook moves for the door, stepping a bit into the hall and pulling you along with him. You keep looking back to the laundry room even as Jungkook turns the lights off, as though the bear will somehow miraculously materialize while you stare but it doesn't.

"Whatever," you mutter once Jungkook shuts the door. "Let's just go." You run a hand through your loose hair, avoiding Jungkook's gaze. He follows your lead and walks a few feet behind you as you make your way to the kitchen. It is equally dark there, but you don't go for the light switch this time. "The cameras will catch it if we turn the main lights on. I'll get the pantry light instead." Jungkook nods at your explanation and looks at the fridge. It's still in the slightly shifted position he moved it to earlier in the day, albeit there is a slight dent in the side now from where he punched it. Jungkook runs a thumb over his bruised knuckles.

Faint yellow light streams across the floor of the kitchen, providing a minimal amount of visibility but enough for Jungkook to see the cabinets and you more clearly.

"I'll look through the cabinets and drawers over here. Go ahead and get started on those." You don't wait to see whether Jungkook does as asked and busy yourself with the searching instead. He mimics your actions. Part of him wants to make some conversation, if only to ease the anxiety that bubbles in his gut anytime he's left in silence with you.

All this effort for a bear…does it really help? It's been gone since I arrived, and Taehyung seems to be doing alright without it now. He wasn't fine the first day but for the past few days…I don't understand how much impact a stuffed animal can have.

No luck. Thirty minutes later, Jungkook has searched through his side of the kitchen at least three times, and he knows that you have as well but you show no signs of slowing down. He, on the other hand, it ready to call it quits and stop looking for the bear, which is obviously not here either. He collapses on the floor with a sign, plopping on the tile a bit too roughly, and his rear end stings from the impact. You glance back at him midway through a cabinet but don't comment on his decision to stop looking with you.

"Where else could it be?" He inquires once you return to digging through the cabinet.

"It could be in either Mingyu or Yesung's room."

"Jimin mentioned that he shares a room with Yesung."

"I'm aware of that."

"Why don't…why don't you just ask him to look through the room? That would be easiest, wouldn't it?" Jungkook is hesitant about the suggestion for some reason, as though he knows what your response is going to be before you say it, and you don't let him down when you speak next.

"I don't trust him to do a good enough job looking for it."

"Why? Do you think he's dumb or something?" The question holds a hint of hostility in it, and Jungkook didn't intend for that to slip in but he can't take it back now.

"No, I don't think that." Your tone is a bit too quiet, and you have your head in a cabinet so Jungkook has to lean forward to catch your words. "I simply don't trust him to look for it. I am the only person I can trust to do a good enough job looking, and that's why I've been double checking everything myself."

"Why don't you get someone you trust to help?"

"Oh? Like who?"

"Namjoon, Yoongi, Seokjin, I don't know," Jungkook mutters, dipping his head as he speaks. He doesn't want to bring up Yoongi again in case you retaliate with harsh words once more. You don't show any signs of anger though. Sighing, you shut the cabinet you're working on and move onto the next.

"That's…a different kind of trust, but I'm going to say anything more on that."

You continue searching in silence, not offering any more words for Jungkook, and he doesn't press for answers, unwilling to risk angering you. Different kind of trust? What does that mean? She doesn't trust them to help her look for a stuffed bear? That doesn't make sense…there must be something else. I don't believe that excuse. Then again, she told me not to mention anything about the plans to Yoongi or Namjoon. But why? What would they do if they knew? Wouldn't they help?

"Fuck!" Your sudden cuss stops Jungkook in his tracks, and he jolts at the sound of a cabinet slamming shut. You turn away from the cabinets, hands finding purchase on the counter and gripping the granite. "I can't find it anywhere. It's not here. It wasn't in the laundry room. God, we're so screwed. This means that Mingyu or Yesung has it in one of their rooms."

"So…what're we gonna do?"

"I don't know." For once, you seem to be at a loss.

"Are we gonna sneak into their room while they're gone?"

"No, I—we can't do that. Getting caught by Mingyu is too big of a risk. I would rather start a fist fight with him in the meal room than sneak into his room."

"I'll do it then."

"Huh?"

"I'll sneak into his room." Jungkook lifts himself off the floor and leans against the counter so that he's opposite you now, staring you in the eye with a newfound resolve. "I'm not scared of him."

"You think I'm scared of him? Mingyu isn't the problem."

"Then what is?"

"Come on, you've got a brain and can put two and two together." You shift, hip colliding with the edge of the counter, but you barely bat an eye at the contact. "Why do you think Mingyu didn't get in as much trouble as I did when we fought? Or why the nurses didn't interfere for so long until Yesung got involved."

"I thought it was just because they don't care. That's what Namjoon told me, at least."

"And you didn't think that maybe Namjoon was holding something back? He is just as scared as everyone else in the clinic. No one fucks with Mingyu for a reason. I just don't give a big enough shit to let him treat Taehyung the way he does. He can walk all over me any day of the week, but he can't mess with someone who can't or won't defend themselves." You stop your rant, glancing at the wall clock beside the fridge. Jungkook follows your line of sight to read the time as well, disappointed at the sight of it. "We still have plenty of time before the camera glitches again." Yeah, two whole hours of this mess. You move away from the counter, making another round of the cabinets, and Jungkook watches on with little amusement.

"Why didn't Mingyu in trouble, if it's not due to the nurses not caring?"

"I'm not going to spell it out for you, Jeon. Think about his name."

"It's Mingyu? I don't get what game you're trying to play. Why can't you explain it already?" You turn to face Jungkook just so that he can see the over-exaggerated roll of your eyes before responding.

"I thought you were smarter than this, but obviously not." Jungkook opens his mouth to counter your comment, but you lift a finger to keep him from speaking. "His name is Choi Mingyu. Do you remember who runs the clinic?"

"Dr. Choi, but isn't Choi a common name?"

"You've met with the good doctor. Tell me the family resemblance isn't there."

"I-I, well now that you—yes it's there."

"That's part of the reason why Mingyu is so arrogant and full of himself. His father is in charge of the clinic."

"Why is he here of all places though? There's tons of other clinics out there that he could be at. Why would his family want him here?"

"Why wouldn't they? It makes it easy. They can keep their kid in the same place that Dad is in charge of. On top of that, his own father gets to control the care as well. They don't care if it's counterproductive, but it is. It worsens half of Mingyu's problems and makes his ego even bigger, which affects us more than anyone else."

"Ah, I think — I think I get it now. If we get caught in Mingyu's room, he would tell his dad and make things living hell for us."

"Not necessarily, but it would probably extend our stays by at least another year, and we would lose our privileges on top of that."

"It's not like I have any privileges to revoke right now though."

"Do you really want to stay longer?"

"No, of course not."

"That's what I thought." You hum and laugh to yourself.

"Why do you and Mingyu have such a bad relationship anyways? Has it always been like this? How long has he been here?"

"Honestly? I don't even remember anymore, but it's been awhile. We've never gotten along. Ever since he got here, he's been thrusting his dumbass attitude in everyone's faces, but I didn't pay much attention to him at first because I didn't really care when I first arrived. His ego is too big for him to deal with anyone who disagrees with him, and our views don't line up that well. We don't think the same way, and sure you can agree to disagree with some people, but Mingyu doesn't operate like that. His ego made sense back when he was a teenager. I wrote him off as a typical teenage asshole then, although now I know that he's insufferable no matter what age he is." Jungkook nods along with your words, taking in all the information to remember for later when he has access to his journal again.

"I understand a bit better now," he says more to himself than to you. "How does Yesung fall into the picture though?"

"He is a lot like me, in that he's in it for himself. So, Yesung is searching for the easiest way to live in the clinic and thinks that by siding with Mingyu, he has that easy way out. To be honest, Yesung isn't a bad person, at least he hasn't always been, but he has become one by spending all his time with Mingyu. I'm sure things would be a lot different if Yesung cared about someone other than himself."

"I see." Jungkook pulls at a loose string on one of his socks, tugging it until the string becomes a loop, and puffs his cheeks full of air. "Thank you for explaining all that for me. And answering my questions. I know you don't really like being asked so many questions."

"Well, you aren't asking anything personal about me. You've only been asking about other people, and they happen to be people I don't care for, so I don't care about keeping my mouth shut for them. Besides, Mingyu would love the attention." You've reached the end of the line of cabinets by now and are about to make another lap around the kitchen to check again, but Jungkook calls out to stop you.

"Y/N, you don't have to keep searching the cabinets. The bear is obviously not there."

"No, no, no. It has to be here somewhere." You run your fingers through your hair and tug hard on the strands. Ignoring Jungkook's words, you move towards the cabinets again and open each one. "I'm not going to find it in time. Taehyung has been waiting long enough already, but he needs it. I need to get it for him. If I can't find it tonight, then I'm failing him. He needs me to find it." Jungkook moves around the counter and reaches out in an effort to stop you, but you move away from his outstretched arm too quickly for him to catch. "I know it's here somewhere. Mingyu and Yesung are dumb, they can't have many places to put it. It has to be here somewhere."

"Y/N," Jungkook sighs. He intercepts you in the midst of your war path to the next set of cabinets, pressing his fingers around your wrist. He nearly lets go immediately after out of sheer shock, because as his fingers dip under the fabric of your sleeve, he feels the ridges of scars across your skin. Rows of them, one after another against his fingers, and he subconsciously drags his thumb over them. I've never noticed—they don't feel fresh but…I never saw them before, did I? I don't remember, but it's not something I ever paid attention to. "Why are you panicking so much? It'll be okay. Taehyung has done well without the bear thus far, and he seems to be willing to wait until we can find it. If it takes a bit more time, then so be it." You look up at Jungkook, yellow light from the pantry hitting the side of your face and casting crude shadows over your features. Your brows knit together. Instead of pulling away and putting up your defensive walls, you drop your shoulders and bite your lower lip.

"I can't let him down, Jungkook. I can't. I have to do this for him, I need to help him now, and I can't waste any time."

"It'll be okay, Y/N. You just need to give it a bit more time. We will find it, I promise. You have been helping Taehyung enough as it is."

"It's not enough though."

"What's not enough?" He asks, trying to maintain eye contact as you start lowering your chin.

"Me." A searing ache spreads across Jungkook's chest. Under his grip, you're trembling, and he tightens his hold as though it will do something to make you feel better. "I'm not enough. I can't fix Taehyung by just being me. Hell, I don't know if I can fix it at all."

"It's okay to not be enough," Jungkook mutters. The low rumble of the fridge almost blocks out his words, but you hear him nonetheless, eyes flitting up to meet his. He isn't sure whether his words have any impact, but he also has no clue how to help you in this situation. How to comfort, help, console, anything. He doesn't know what the hell he's doing.

"You're a liar. Not being enough has never helped anyone." You frown, and Jungkook mirrors your expression with a frown of his own.

"No one is ever enough, Y/N. We can't be perfect for everyone, and you don't need to be." Your frown deepens, and you blink up at Jungkook. You don't react further than that for a few moments. Jungkook can almost see the gears turning in your mind as you take in his words. Then you pull away, and Jungkook has to release your wrist. You hug your arms to your chest, slouching forward as you do, and all he sees is how small and vulnerable you seem.

"I'm trying to keep you at a distance. Why don't you get that? I don't want you to get close to me."

"Why? I'm trying to help. I don't underst—” 

"Stay out of my personal life." You shift, turning your back to him.

"But why, Y/N? I don't understand why you're trying so hard to push me away."

"I have hurt enough people by letting them get close and involved in my personal life. I'm not a good person, I only care about myself, so why would you want to get involved with that? I'm selfish and rude and insensitive."

"You aren't going to hurt me," Jungkook insists, and he takes a step closer to you.

"Again, you're a liar. That's exactly what Yoongi said, and he turned out to be a liar." Jungkook stops dead in his tracks. Eyes wide, mouth agape, he stares at the back of your head. She brought him up. Oh god, what do I say?

"What?"

That's all Jungkook can manage in the heat of the moment, although it might be because his throat is closing up from the panic coursing through his veins. All he can think about is your reaction earlier when you talked about Yoongi, and he would rather not hear you repeat the cruel words.

"You are a liar. Just like Yoongi was. You are going to turn out to be an exact replica of him, and I don't want that in my life again. It would be better to keep you at a distance than to hurt you the way I hurt Yoongi." You can't see the stutter in Jungkook's jaw, the way he moves his lips with no voice because he's at a loss. Being silent surely isn't the proper answer, so Jungkook struggles to manage a response.

"I-I, uh, didn't realize that's what happened. I thought — it doesn't seem like that's the case."

"We're fine now."

"Why? Because you pushed him away?" Jungkook presses his lips together in a moment of doubt and hesitation, then with a deep inhale of breath, he continues on with his train of thought. The pent up frustration in his gut pushes its way to the foreground, ready to spill out and bare itself to reality. "Is that what you're gonna do to Taehyung when he gets too close? Or Namjoon if he starts pushing boundaries? Are you doing that to Jimin now? You obviously push him away for some reason, but maybe it's simply because you can't stand the thought of being vulnerable in front of someone. What about Hoseok? You'll do that to him too? You claim it's so that you don't hurt them, but can't you see that's exactly what you're doing by be—” 

A sharp pain spreads across his right cheek, and for a moment, Jungkook has no clue what happened. He doesn't get the change to finish his train of thought thanks to the shock that wipes his mind of what he was going to say. Without looking your way, he lifts shaking fingers to his cheek, which is suddenly cold compared to the rest of his body, and when he pulls it away, crimson paints his fingertips. Blood? Am I bleeding? He wipes at his cheek once more with his thumb, finding a smear of blood on his skin. Not mine though.

"Are you hurt?" He asks and lifts his chin to look you in the eye. He catches a glimpse of the expression of anger only a moment before it dissipates into bewilderment. You lean back, eyes following the movement of Jungkook's hands as he reaches forward to bare your palms to the ceiling. Sure enough, blood coats the skin there, and deep crescent cuts mar the middle of your palms, still oozing the red liquid. Your hands are trembling again, fingers twitching. "Is there a first aid kit in here?"

"I, um, yea there's one in the pantry," you whisper in response.

Jungkook pulls away and darts for the pantry in search of the object in mind. He digs around for a bit longer than he would like, having to shift random snack and cereal boxes to get to it, and upon returning to the kitchen, he finds you at the sink. You're running hot water over your palms, silently watching the blood leave red streaks in the clear liquid and fall into the sink unceremoniously.

"Why aren't you mad at me?" You ask under your breath.

"I deserved it. I've been told that I'm too vocal with my opinions, and it gets me into trouble more often than not." He shrugs as he pops the first aid kit open.

"I'm sorry that I hit you."

"You don't need to apologize."

A pause. Then,

"Yes I do."

"I deserved it."

"Okay."

He steals a glance at you out of the corner of his eye, then turns the water off for you and breaks open one of the packs of sterile alcohol prep pads.

"Is this what happened when you fought with Mingyu and Yesung? I saw the blood on Yesung's cheek but wasn't sure where it came from…” 

"It happens a lot," you admit. Your fingers twitch when Jungkook presses the alcohol pad against your wounds, but you relax them a moment later after getting used to the sting. "Better than cutting myself, right?" He presses the pad a bit too hard, and you visibly wince at the force of the contact. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't joke about that."

Jungkook doesn't say anything as he turns away, dumping the used prep pads in the trash can. You've taken over when he returns to his post by your side, and you tug the roll of white gauze loose. Jungkook views your attempts to wrap your hands up by yourself. You begin to struggle with the motions not long after, so he pulls it away from you and begins to wrap your palms himself.

"Why do you think you'll hurt me if I get close?" He asks. Maybe it's the attempts to help you, or the fact that you feel a bit guilty for hitting him, but you actually relent and decide to answer his question.

"That's what happens to everyone who gets close to me."

"Is that the case for Namjoon and Seokjin?"

"In all honesty, Seokjin doesn't know me very well. He never asks personal questions. Often, he talks about himself instead, and I can't blame him for that because I know it's not something he can wholly control. As for Namjoon…there's always been some sort of unspoken agreement. He doesn't ask, maybe because he knows how I will react. But he does know a lot about me — a lot more than anyone else — but he doesn't push me the way some other people do. The same goes for the other way around. In my defense though, it's easier if I keep people at a distance."

"Who is it easier for?"

"Look, I know that it's selfish and wrong. I know I'm not a good person, but that isn't going to stop me from trying to protect myself."

"You are a good person. It's obvious from the way you talk about Taehyung and Hoseok, and I can tell that you want to help them more than anything else. It — well, it doesn't seem like you want to help yourself." Jungkook gently snips the gauze and locks it into place with two short pieces of tape. "You don't need to put up this facade to convince everyone that you're strong," he says while tucking everything back into the first aid kit.

"It's a bit ironic, I think. You are telling me all this, but you do the exact same things." You flex your fingers a bit around the new bandages, then meet Jungkook's eyes. "The strong facade isn't to hide myself. It's to be strong for other people who can't be strong themselves. I am being strong for Taehyung and Hoseok. Namjoon, Yoongi, Seokjin — they can take care of themselves and be strong for themselves, they've proven it to me before. But Taehyung and Hoseok don't have that sort of luxury."

"Why do you feel an obligation to do that for them? Is it some sort of repentance for past mistakes? Or a way to make up for not feeling good enough in the past?" Your eyes flit away from his, and Jungkook is sure that he's hit the nail on the head with his assumptions. The melancholic haze that drifts to cover your eyes in a dreary film reflects sadness.

"It's almost 3:33. We should head back soon." Jungkook purses his lips but doesn't say anything else. Instead, he returns the first aid kit to where he found it and comes back to the kitchen to find you clutching the edges of the sink, hovering over it. Jungkook announces his presence by flicking the light switch to the pantry off. You pull back from the sink, dragging the heel of your hand across your cheek before looking over at Jungkook. "I just want to make something clear before we go back. Whatever my reasons for helping Taehyung and Hoseok are…you don't need to know them. Helping is helping, and all I can hope is that it's enough."

"But if you don't help yourself—” 

"Then who cares?"

"You should let people help you too," Jungkook says, putting a good amount of force behind his words. "I want to help you, and…if it means that you let me in even just a little bit, then I am more than willing to drop the strong facade I carry." You press your lips into a frown. Jungkook sighs as he realizes that you aren't going to offer any sort of response.

"Hello?"

Jungkook nearly jumps out of his own skin at the sound of the new voice. He jerks his head in the direction of the voice, and through the darkness, he finds a head of orange hair. Empty eyes. Blank expression. Staring forward, but not looking at anything in particular, and certainly not focused on either of the people standing in the middle of the kitchen. You, on the other hand, seem completely unfazed by the intrusion. You simply shift your head towards the sound, but once your eyes recognize Hoseok standing at the edge of the kitchen, you lunge forward.

"Hoseok?" You dart around the counter to get closer to the man. "Did something happen? Are you alright? What are you doing up? Why you not in your room?" You spew the questions at him.

"I-I — do I know you?" Jungkook thinks Hoseok is directing the question at him for a split second, but Hoseok is staring you in the eye instead. You freeze, the hand that you had outstretched to him falling to your side limply. Jungkook's heart clenches as he reads the expression that flashes across your face, one that bears sadness and a sense of familiarity as though this situation has repeated itself time and time again.

"No, you don't. Are you alright?"

"I'm not sure how I got here. I was walking in the hallway to a door at the end of the hall and then all the sudden, I'm here. I heard some voices, and they told me to go here I think. They directed me here. It was Yunho, Yunho told me to come here." Hoseok speaks with a flat tone, nothing showing through his stony exterior, and Jungkook watches on with increasing discomfort.

"He did? That's nice of him. He brought you here to us, so we can help you now."

"You know Yunho? Does Yunho know you?"

You offer a weak smile.

"Yes, Hoseok. I know Yunho very well. He's a friend of mine."

"Oh. I see. Are you a friend of mine too then?"

"I am. Can you tell me which door you were trying to get to earlier?"

"It was a door. A white door with a silver handle, and you know the door it — it sli-slides open instead of opening normally. And there's a plaque with a name on it — the name, um, the name was L/N Y/N. I knocked, I think, but there was no answer. I remember a voice telling me to go there whenever I felt like I was in trouble though. The voice — a girl's voice — she told me to go there when I needed her help, but she wasn't there. Then Yunho started telling me where to go instead."

"And now you're here."

"Yea, now I'm here."

"Well, Hoseok, uh…my name is L/N Y/N. Yunho must have remembered that I wasn't in my room and brought you here instead."

"You know Yunho?"

"Yes, I do." Your voice wavers a bit, smile falters, and you take a step closer to Hoseok. "I'm supposed to help you whenever you feel like you're in trouble. How are you?"

"I, well, I'm not good. The mean voices are telling me things again."

"Are they? Did you listen to them?"

"Yea…yes. I don't feel good."

Jungkook glances at his watch. 3:36. We missed our chance.

"Okay, I understand. Hoseok, do you want me to come back to your room with you?"

"I don't know. Yes. No. I'm not sure. I don't feel good though."

"Alright, let's walk back—Hoseok!" Jungkook snaps his head up as you shout. Hoseok stumbles forward, wobbling on his feet, then collapses. You lunge forward to catch him, but his weight presses down on you too hard, and suddenly both you and Hoseok are on the floor. "Shit. Shit! Fucking hell. Fuck!" You slap the ground, and the sound echoes.

"What do I do? What do I need to do? How do I help?" Jungkook asks as he rushes to meet you on the floor. Hoseok isn't moving anymore. Oh God…what happened?

"Go get someone! Now!"

"Who am I supposed to get?"

"I don't fucking care! Get someone! Hurry!" You yell. As your eyes meet his, Jungkook sees the shine of tears welling there, and he stumbles back at the sight.

"Okay, okay. Okay. Don't worry. I'll get someone. It'll be okay, Y/N."

"Fuck, no it won't! I was supposed to be there. I told him to come to my room, and I wasn't there!"

"Y/N, please. I am gonna get someone. Everything is going to be okay, I swear. I'll be right back."

"Fucking hurry," you shout, voice coming out a bit hoarse this time. Jungkook glances at you one more time before turning to sprint out of the kitchen. He doesn't think twice about the cameras in the hall. His mind is reeling so much at his point that he doesn't even know where he's going.

Is he okay? What happened? What the hell is going on?

Jungkook scans each plaque as he passes them, barely taking in the names, before stopping at a door near the end of the hall. He bangs his fist against the white panels, so much force and vehemence in his strikes that his fist stings from the impact. He keeps knocking and knocking, head craned to look down towards the mouth of the hallway as he does. When the door slides open, Jungkook nearly falls forward because his fist doesn't meet a hard surface anymore, and someone steadies him before he falls flat on his face.

"What the hell do you want?"

...

a/n: sorry this took so long to get out!! school kicked my butt recently, but i am very happy and proud of this chapter! i hope you guys enjoy it as much as i do!

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