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palmett-hoes · 3 years

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per your post "every single one of the monsters is autistic and/or adhd" will you elaborate on that?, if you do i will love you forever (not that i wont if you dont do it)

oh boy i would love to!!! unironically nothing brings me more joy than writing long, convoluted character analysis posts

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okay so i’ve written several posts before about why andrew is autistic. his moral code, the roundabout way he communicates, his body language, his stimulation-seeking behavior, his strict adherence to transactional deals, the emphasis on honesty, and a dozen other details. at this point i just take andrew being autistic as fact, not just an interpretation

h o w e v e r i also hc that andrew is dyslexic, which is also a neurodiverse condition

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similarly, i’ve seen more than one person interpret kevin as autistic, and i absolutely agree that it fits. not just the hyperfocus on exy but mostly the way he communicates. he’s very indirect, especially in his affection but very direct with his opinions. he tries to be helpful in a material way to the people he cares about, even if he comes off as negative. he wants the people he cares about to be safe and successful so he pushes them to work hard and reminds them in measurable ways how to stay healthy. he doesn’t factor in a lot of room for emotions, so instead he focuses on quantifiable things that he can improve. i personally act very similarly. approaching someone emotionally is hard for me, so when the people i care about have problems all i can think to do is try offering solutions, check up on their well-being, etc. practicality instead of conventional sentiment is extremely common with asd

- - -

so now let’s talk about neil. i had to think on this one for a WHILE but ultimately came to the conclusion that neil is adhd, probably hyperactive type.

like obviously neil is high energy. i would say he probably does the most exercise of anyone on the team. morning run, morning practice, afternoon practice, night practice with kevin and andrew, plus he doesn’t have a car so he runs to class (on a BIG ass campus), and goes for an extra run when he feels stressed. that’s... insane, honestly.

neil reminds me SO MUCH of this post that goes:

“Was just informed by my mom that I do in fact have ADHD and the reason I thought I didn’t was because ever since I was seven whenever I got super energetic my mom would have me go chop wood so now when I’m feeling The ADHD I go chop wood”

(phenomenal post) and that’s neil to a t. tell me this isn’t exactly how neil handles his problems and also exactly what mary would have had to do to keep her unmedicated and very energetic son focused on the task of staying alive

neil also definitely has that ADHD on/off switch with his interest. the obvious being exy which is like the definition of a hyperfixation, but you can see it in other things: the way he runs totally hot or totally cold with people, his complete disinterest in his schoolwork, the way he can’t seem to sit still long enough to follow movies. but then there’s also the hyperfocus. doing the same drill for hours on end. watching exy game after exy game. staring at andrew until time falls away

what’s more, neil on many occasions shows racing thoughts, both in an anxiety way (and anxiety often goes hand-and-hand with adhd) but also as a way to quickly and accurately take in details about people to build a character profile of them. this is what allows him to connect with the foxes, how he manages to get through andrew’s puzzles, and even how he knows what to say in order to knock riko down a peg. his brain just works so fast and it takes in a lot of very specific details and disparate information to make connections.

but also like,, neil has a HUGE problem with time blindness. like the instant he didn’t have his mother around to manage and direct him anymore he lost all sense of time. he stayed in Millport for a YEAR. and what did he keep telling himself during that time? basically “i really need to move on, but not just yet.” for a YEAR! then he gets to palmetto and he’s like “i’ll cut and run in a month or two” then he doesn’t “i’ll be gone by halloween” wrong again “i’ll leave by the raven’s game” nope. like,, the boy just has NO sense of time and he can’t seem to make himself DO anything outside of an externally enforced schedule. and even then,,, HE HAD 48 FUCKING DAYS TO FIGURE OUT SOMETHING TO DO TO NOT GET MURDERED! 48 WHOLE DAYS. he didn’t make a plan, he didn’t write down any letters with goodbyes, he didn’t GO TO THE FBI LIKE HE’D INTENDED TO THE WHOLE TIME! nah he just made out with andrew and when he finally got to zero he was just like “ah shit, that was fast. oh well guess i’ll die” and that’s time blindness, babey!

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let’s move on to nicky.

now i think it would be really easy to say nicky is just adhd because he’s high energy and forgetful but tbh,, i don’t think that’s all of it. like if you really look at nicky’s character and especially at his problems, he has asd problems just as much as he has adhd problems.

so nicky is dual diagnosis asd and adhd. also nicky reminds me a lot of a girl i used to know who was autistic/adhd

so, adhd:

very generally speaking, ppl with adhd will struggle with sitting still, listening to and following instructions, planning/organization, following a schedule, and some social boundaries like “appropriate” times and topics of conversation

i would say you see hints of this with nicky. he’s definitely a rambunctious personality, constantly on the move, constantly stimulation seeking. he’s very tactile. he likes to dance, he likes to party, he complains about it but he’s an elite-level athlete. he’s also decidedly very chatty, and doesn’t seem to really pay attention to what he’s saying. he distracts himself and the people around him have to keep him on track. he has some trouble with boundaries. he’s a little all over the place. he’s almost a bit of an adhd stereotype

also one thing i find interesting is that when neil sees him in the library doing work neil is surprised to see he’s capable of that, especially bc when we see the upperclassmen doing work they generally do it in their dorms or on the bus and/or with other people around. that hyper-social nicky would be alone in a quiet place is weird. but this is like the most common tip for dealing with adhd. don’t do it in a familiar space. have a designated space and time to do work. limit distractions. just a lil detail

so now, asd:

in all honesty, most of nicky’s actual problems in the narrative could be viewed as stemming from asd symptoms. his number one issue being that he has a lot of trouble with nonverbal cues (and tbh, verbal ones too). the twins are mostly quiet. andrew especially (when he’s sober) communicates primarily nonverbally, and nicky seems to have a lot of trouble with this. despite knowing them for the longest on the team, nicky honestly seems to have the least insight into the way either of the twins actually thinks or processes things. he loves them, and he’s very forgiving of them, but he fundamentally doesn’t understand them.

the twins, andrew especially, put up a LOT of nonverbal boundaries, and nicky sort of inadvertently keeps trampling all over them. he’s touchy in a way they don’t like. he talks a lot about their personal lives to other people. he treats them like they’re joking when they’re serious. etc. and like,,, you kind of get the sense that the upperclassmen feel similarly about him. beyond the homophobia, beyond the fact that he’s loyal to andrew, the upperclassmen still treat him with this sense of,, bafflement, i suppose? it’s clear that they don’t really understand him and he doesn’t really understand them. although, nicky IS curious about the upperclassmen, while the upperclassmen are pretty dismissive of him. it reminds me of when my sweet, floppy dog tries to play with my cat. their body language is different; they’re each receiving different signals than they believe they’re sending out

only,, nicky loves people!! he likes being around them, he likes talking to them. he’s interested in their lives and stories, but it’s very clear that he can’t read between the lines on people. he has an incredibly hard time with people who expect their actions to speak for them, which is most people, but is especially his cousins.

actually this is very much also an issue that i have: things need to be spelled out for me. the way i deal with it is i ask a lot of questions. ‘how do you want me to react to this potential situation?’ ‘what are specific things that make you most comfortable?’ ‘please explain to me exactly how you feel and what has prompted those feelings?’ and i’m always communicating vice versa like that with other people. a lot of specifics in both questions and answers

and the interesting thing is, when i was skimming through the books reviewing dialogue styles for another ask, i noticed that, actually, nicky DOES do this. with neil and the upperclassmen, nicky asks a LOT of quick, clarifying questions. things that ask after tone, that ask after intent. it’s kinda sad that he does this for communicating with acquaintances, but with the twins, the people he’s closest to, he makes a lot more assumptions. and i’m really proud of nicky for having this coping skill, because i can’t imagine it’s something he grew up doing. there’s no way he was raised in an environment that fostered this kind of open communication so it must have been something he learned about much later, probably in germany with the kloses, which would also explain why he’s a lil imperfect about it

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now last but not least, aaron

this is another one i had to think through for a long time before it felt like it fit

much like how i felt that it would be easy to read nicky as simply adhd rather than also asd, i think it would be easy to say aaron is autistic simply because he is quieter, less rambunctious. however, i actually think he’s adhd, likely primarily inattentive type

in all honesty, aaron’s #1 character trait for the first two books is basically that he’s disconnected. detached. separated both from his family and his team. not in the same forcefully apathetic way that andrew is, more,, spaced out. he’s just kind,, there. not really paying attention to what’s going on, tuning in every once in a while only if something really catches his eye/ear then tuning right back out again. just sits in his corner and plays on his phone. and the thing is, from the moments when he does tune in, you can tell that he actually does care. he backs nicky when seth insults him in tfc, and we know he cares deeply about andrew even if he’s become disillusioned with their fraught relationship. he even hangs with his family, doesn’t seem to really try and slip away to other friends besides katelyn, he’s fine spending his leisure time with the monsters. so it’s not totally apathy, he’s just,,, tuned out most of the time

and, yea, that sounds like adhd. it’s not the type that most people are familiar with, and for a lot of people this causes it to slip under the radar. it can make it hard to get help or a dx because it doesn’t fit with how adhd “should” look or how someone “should” act, but difficulty focusing your thoughts and staying in tune with the current moment is absolutely part of adhd

addiction is also a huge problem for people with adhd. a lot of stimulants affect people with adhd very differently than neurotypicals, especially in small doses, and an adhd kid who’s struggled their whole lives with the disorder might try speed or god-forbid meth or fuck even coffee and suddenly find that things are a lot easier for them. they start to self-medicate, they don’t actually know what they’re doing, and then they’re addicted, and everything spirals out of control. we don’t know too many details about aaron’s addiction other than that his mother enabled him, but wouldn’t this fit? it’s also an explanation for aaron still taking drugs at eden’s, given that cracker dust seems to be a mild amphetamine. (aaron talk to betsy about the neurocog and get an actual prescription please)

(total throw away but aaron plays videogames and videogames are like,, adhd culture)

#Anonymous #txt #andrew minyard #kevin day #neil josten #nicky hemmick #aaron minyard #my posts #im talkin #cw addiction #cw addiction mentioned

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terrascookiejar-archive · 4 years

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Purple Yam canonically has PTSD

Hey I’ve been thinking a lot lately and want to offer an alternative take on a character the fandom seems to LOVE to Hate. Purple Yam Cookie.

Purple Yam Cookie’s rage comes from the fact that he is deeply traumatized.

Now a lot of people tend to take things about Purple Yam at face value, for a few reasons. But we’re not going to get into the race debacle or bigoted opinions here. We’re here to talk about the thing everyone overlooks, His Character.

And yes if you take time to actually read and consider what is in the game about Yam, you’d understand that a character was there.

Starting at the place where we learn the most about cookies initially, his story

Now there’s two very, VERY important takeaways from this story I want to bring up to all of you.

Purple Yam was baked in extreme temperatures again and again until the heat finally got to his head. Ever since, Purple Yam Cookie has been in an angered state (to say the least!) that’s why we advise being extremely cautious around him.

and

The Cookie (Purple Yam) claims that no one has suffered in the “flames of hell” more than him, but little does he know that - in fact - other Cookies went through the Witch’s oven too...

We know that Yam likes to talk a lot about “The Fiery Hell” and how we “Have No Idea How Hot it was In there”

I think the one thing we need to think about is the fact that Yam didn’t just go through the Oven ONCE. He went through it an UNKNOWN amount of times until it BROKE him MENTALLY.

Now trauma isn’t always someone becoming reclusive or someone becoming weak or depressed, etc. etc. The fact of the matter is everyone experiences trauma differently, and anger? Anger is a VERY common side effect of trauma. In fact a very, very common symptom of PTSD IS Anger!!

Now there’s a great article on PTSD and not just how but why Anger is a common side effects, from the US Department of Veteran Affairs (Because, well, PTSD is a common thing coming back from war)

Anger is often a large part of a survivor's response to trauma. It is a core piece of the survival response in human beings. Anger helps us cope with life's stresses by giving us energy to keep going in the face of trouble or blocks. (...) One way of thinking is that high levels of anger are related to a natural survival instinct. When faced with extreme threat, people often respond with anger. Anger can help a person survive by shifting his or her focus. The person focuses all of his or her attention, thought, and action toward survival. Anger is also a common response to events that seem unfair or in which you have been made a victim. Research shows that anger can be especially common if you have been betrayed by others. This may be most often seen in cases of trauma that involve exploitation or violence.

Now all these things we can attribute to Purple Yam in spades.

Purple Yam’s whole skill is based his anger, reaching a fever pitch and becoming “a tornado of rage.” It’s a trigger response, and when he reaches the end of his energy??? He gets blasts of rage that happen very rapidly, It’s a the end of his energy. This is his survival instinct.

And too, we need to identify the fact that Purple Yam seems to very much believe that no one has it worse than him. He might not be aware that other cookies have gone through what he has, though I think the most likely attribution is that he thinks his experience was worse because he was forced to experience it over and over again. You could say that others attributing the fact they went through the oven as well might make Yam believe they are challenging him by marginalizing what happened to him. In fact, everything is a challenge to him now.

Purple Yam is always looking for a fight. Always.

Fighting seems to be the one outlet for him to get all this rage out. This is the only way he can cope with his anger. The anger and rage that he was baked to his breaking point into having can only be satiated by fighting.

One could argue that losing to Dark Choco was SUCH a blow to his pride, because fighting is the only that makes Yam feel GOOD about what happened. Losing was the ultimate threat to who he IS and what DEFINES him at this point that he NEEDS to get it back. He NEEDS to find Dark Choco and RECLAIM the ONE thing that makes Yam happy and proud. His raw power as a fighter.

and this doesn’t just extends to fighting, his anger overtakes EVERYTHING.

Going back to the article, it illustrates my next point well.

In people with PTSD, their response to extreme threat can become "stuck." This may lead to responding to all stress in survival mode. If you have PTSD, you may be more likely to react to any stress with "full activation." You may react as if your life or self were threatened

Now Purple Yam is not great with any other emotions, he literally responds to ANYTHING from a threat to a COMPLIMENT with ANGER and INSTIGATION. Yam is literally so unable to cope with anything that’s not anger, that the stress of it turns itself around and back to being anger again.

Everything he can’t deal with his activating that survival instinct and turning back to anger. Which only adds to the destructive nature he gives off. Every little thing becomes as bad as his life being in danger, even if it’s small.

With this all established. There’s one more important thing I’d like to talk about. There’s more to Yam than his anger.

Yes Purple Yam has PTSD, Yes Purple Yam is very angry and anger is his one outlet to his trauma. However, like an actual Sweet Potato, there’s actually an inner sweetness to Yam beneath all the heat.

We need to remember that someone with any kind of Trauma isn’t just someone WITH trauma. They are someone

Very much brought upon symbolically, like many cookies, through his magic candy item.

This sweet potato might look scary with its sharp spikes, but it tastes like heaven. But who could be brave enough to try this thing in the beginning?

Scary with spikes, but something much nicer on the inside? Hmmm.

Now to round this out, how do I know that there’s potential for Yam to be something more that isn’t just defined by the anger that he uses to cope? Why the first guild adventure of course!!!

The first time we see Yam, he’s busted down the walls of... some place and meets Milk Cookie who, in Milk Cookie fashion, greets him with open arms thinking he’s here to join his guild.

Throughout the adventure, we see something NOBODY likes to talk about. A CHANGE IN YAM’S CHARACTER.

In the beginning, things are very tense between Milk and Yam once Milk finds out Yam wants to challenge Dark Choco! Milk Cookie doesn’t just easily let Purple Yam get away with the idea that he’s going to hurt the cleric’s mentor! So Milk cautiously follows from a distance whilst being threatened by Yam to stop following him.

That’s when they encounter a jellyworm and a fight ensues.

The next time we see these two, Yam is still questioning why Milk is following him. It can be assumed that not many cookies would stick around Yam up until his point. A lot of the tension that mired the beginning is gone, and Milk seems to be more trusting of Yam as a cookie. Perhaps after the encounter starting to realize that inner good that Yam has under the surface. While Yam has gone from threatening to mild annoyance at Milk’s refusal to leave him alone. Seemingly to only let Milk follow along because he won’t leave the Berserker alone.

After saving Purple Yam from a close call, Milk Cookie suggests that perhaps it would be better if the two work together. Purple Yam, though begrudgingly, agrees. Though when Milk Cookie frames it in the form of the challenge, Purple Yam is far more on board. Almost as if Milk Cookie has come to understand how Purple Yam’s mindset works and it can be attributed to a positive goal rather than a negative one.

Yam has gone from being hostile, being threatening, being mildly annoyed, to accepting help in the form of Milk Cookie to ultimately reach his goal. The two might have different goals in mind, but thanks to Milk Cookie’s patience and perseverance he’s managed to even get a cookie as stubborn as Purple Yam to work with him to make it to the end.

Now I’m not gonna say the obvious. However I will leave you with this thought. Someone is suffering heavily from trauma that results in episodes of anger, and someone comes into their life who doesn’t entirely get what’s going on, but wants to help. It might be met with animosity... yet with patience, perseverance, and understanding can come to help that person to cope. Thus allowing the one with PTSD room to open up and perhaps find outlets outside of anger. Gaining someone who, though might not always agree and have all the answers, can be one they can trust to help them.

Maybe there was always more to the first guild adventure than meets the eye.

#Purple Yam Cookie #Cookie Run #Cookie Run Ovenbreak #Cookie Run Discourse #Something to consider

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dimigex · 3 years

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New Altered Reality Chapter!

A03 / FF

I think it’s been like . . two years since I updated this story XD oops. The story is linked at the top if you want the full chapter and/or story. This is only a portion of the new chapter because it’s over 6k words

"Why don't you go train for a little while? It might take your mind off things." Rin made the suggestion as gentle as possible, ignoring the frustration that seethed just beneath the surface of her calm. She wanted the apartment to herself for a few hours and desperately needed Kakashi to stop fussing over her. Then, she'd be able to relax the way that she was supposed to. The man's constant attention put her on edge.

Since the doctor's appointment four days ago, Kakashi had been acting like a brooding hen. When Rin stood up to get her book from the bedroom, he'd jumped to his feet and offered to go instead. He didn't want her standing long enough to cook or clean, so he'd taken over those duties as well. While Kakashi was decent in the kitchen, he'd kept everything bland and refused to add any salt to the dishes. If the man mentioned her blood pressure one more time, Rin was fairly certain that hers would rise to dangerous levels when she yelled at him.

At Rin's words, Kakashi glanced up from the book in his lap. The man's brow furrowed as he marked his place with a finger. "What if you need something while I'm gone?"

"Then, I'll get it myself," Rin answered. She moderated her tone to placating rather than annoyed. It was more difficult than she expected. "I'm hardly an invalid, you know?"

"The doctor said you needed rest." Kakashi argued for the umpteenth time, as if Rin had forgotten it, as if he would give her a chance to forget it.

Rin held up her hand to stop Kakashi's next arguments before they could form. Slowly, she counted to five under her breath. The idea of laying in bed or on the couch for even one minute longer made her physically ill. She had done everything that she was supposed to: drinking glass after glass of water to keep herself hydrated, keeping the lights dim and the room quiet, resting on her left side whenever possible. There had been a dozen tiny things that might make a difference, or might not.

While that scenario would sound like a dream for some women, to Rin, it was a nightmare. She missed the days when training and missions kept her mind and body racing. When she was in the village, Rin kept herself busy wherever the hospital needed an extra set of hands. She hadn't chosen her specialization yet, but she was leaning toward pediatrics. Most medical nin worked in triage and emergencies, but there were plenty of quiet days as well. Rin liked the idea of helping children feel better rather than focusing on battle injuries.

Rin realized that her mind had drifted from the topic at hand and brought her eyes back to Kakashi. She couldn't help but appreciate the changes in her husband in the past few days, even when they annoyed her. In some ways, he was more like himself and others, he was totally different. Rin could manage the symptoms of her pregnancy; she'd done that when morning sickness left her more or less living on the bathroom floor for two months. But, she couldn't handle the hovering worry that radiated off of Kakashi.

"Why don't you go see if Minato has an update on your team?" Rin suggested, pushing into a sitting position.

Apprehension entered Kakashi's eyes. The man still hadn't been able to explain his nervousness over the chunin exams, no matter how much he tried. Rin almost felt bad for bringing up the memory, almost. Team Seven was the only distraction that could get Kakashi out of her hair for an hour or two. Sensing the man's wavering resolve, Rin pushed. "I'm just going to take a bath anyway. A cool one," Rin amended when Kakashi opened his mouth. He had been reading one of her many books about the dos and don't of pregnancy; Rin wished that she'd thrown them out once she finished.

"I'm sure he would have sent someone if there was news," Kakashi countered. His voice lacked its usual certainty, however. He wanted to know what was happening with his students as much as Rin wanted some time to breathe.

Rin nodded, running a hand through her hair. "Probably, but it would be good for you to get your mind off this mess." She gestured around the apartment. "Besides, if I need you, I can create a clone to find you. I still know how to do some things."

Over the past few months, Rin had been developing her chakra control. Once her pregnancy had been confirmed, she'd been removed from active duty. With missions off the table, she spent more time at the hospital. Even so, Rin was only permitted to assist with certain cases, so she spent her free time working through exercises that improved her control. Hopefully, that would allow her the freedom to study more medical ninjutsu after the baby was born. If she'd learned anything from being on a team with hotheaded Obito and reckless Kakashi, it was that a medic was always necessary.

"You promise you'll come find me if you need anything?" Kakashi's voice held a note of uncertainty that surprised Rin. When she nodded, he tucked a strip of cloth into the book on his lap and placed it on the table. "I won't be gone long, but maybe you're right. I'm sure there are rumors about teams finishing the second exam by now."

"Take your time," Rin offered, schooling her face to impassivity. If she looked hopeful at the free time, Kakashi would see the trap. He stood, stretching the stiff muscles in his back, then glanced in her direction. A slight frown appeared on his face.

He's debating whether or not to kiss me, Rin realized with a start. While Kakashi had changed significantly over the past few days, the hesitancy about displaying emotions with her remained. Honestly, it didn't bother Rin as much as his lost memories did. Kakashi had always been private and reserved with his affections. Deciding to meet him halfway, Rin caught his hand with hers and squeezed. Kakashi exhaled in relief.

"Go on," Rin prompted, dropping her fingers away. "I'll be good, I promise."

A smile tugged at the corners of Kakashi's mouth as he stepped closer. To Rin's surprise, he leaned in and pressed a warm kiss to her forehead. An unfamiliar explosion of heat washed through her chest at the gesture. "I'll bring dinner home," Kakashi continued, completely unaware of the effect he had on her. "Don't even think of trying to make it while I'm gone."

"Promise," Rin laughed, hoping that her smile disguised the fact that she had just been considering that very thing.

When the door shut behind Kakashi, Rin glanced at the calendar on the wall. She calculated how much longer she'd have to endure Kakashi's worrying before life could get back to normal. If everything went perfectly, they would meet their son in twelve weeks; Rin could hang on that long. She didn't have a choice.

When a brief knock sounded on the office door, Minato glanced up from the paperwork in his hand. Shikaku slipped through before he had time to answer, and Minato's heart leaped into his throat. "Has there been news?"

The second chunin exam was coming to a close, and there still hadn't been any word of Naruto's team. Minato knew that his son and his teammates were talented shinobi, but the exams were designed to be taxing. He'd seen just as many groups fail because of bad luck as poor skill. With the relative peace in the shinobi nations, fewer genin were advanced to the next rank. Minato agreed with the changes, but he could still remember all too well how quickly the ninja wars had started.

Shikaku shook his head as he shut the door behind him. "None about Team Seven."

Minato understood what the man wasn't saying; there were more important things to worry about than Naruto's advancement. Shikaku's son was also competing in the exams, he had to be wondering about the same things as Minato, but Shikaku remained detached. He stayed focused on the other matters that required his attention to keep the village running. Shikaku had been an excellent pick as Minato's second in command, and Minato didn't know what he would do without him most days.

Dipping his head in understanding, Minato pressed a thumb and forefinger against his eyes to stave off a headache. It had been a stressful week. When he wasn't torn between worries over Kakashi's memory and Naruto's performance, Minato had been dealing with chaos of having multiple villages together. There had been half a dozen fights to break up, tempers that needed soothing, and the exhaustion of hosting delegates. He cringed. "What is it this time? A broken nose over which kage is the strongest? Blood feud over the death of a distant relative? A comment taken the wrong way?"

"None of the above." Shikaku didn't crack a smile at Minato's attempted levity. Whatever he had come to say must be bad. Minato waited in silence. "I wasn't sure what to make of the report, so I brought it to you immediately. Someone made an attempt against the village barrier."

Minato shifted, mind flashing back to Kakashi's warning about Orochimaru. Even so, he forced himself to think logically rather than responding with a knee jerk reaction. "Did the Anbu tasked with that portion of the village find anything out of the ordinary? Which team was it?"

Again, Shikaku shook his head. "Obito's team deemed it a false alarm, something bound to happen with this many foreigners in the village."

Minato nodded without answering. Technically, his advisor shouldn't know the names of the men and women in Anbu, but Obito's presence hadn't been easy to hide, especially from someone who worked closely with Minato. Shikaku had been an effective jonin commander because he knew the strengths and weaknesses of every jonin in the village. There were few who weren't under his purview at some point, but Minato had no doubt that the man knew them as well. He wouldn't be good at his job if he didn't.

"Was there any evidence to suggest otherwise, anything at all?" Minato hated asking the question, but he couldn't afford to be lax with village safety during the chunin exams. There had been too many warnings to write this off as a coincidence. Though, he knew that if Shikaku had more information, he would have supplied it already.

Shikaku's sigh spoke volumes. He'd been under the same pressure as Minato the past couple of weeks. "No, everything appears to be in order."

Minato wondered if Shikaku had been thinking about Kakashi's warning when he brought that message. As much as Minato wanted to, he hadn't been able to keep that solely between himself and Inoichi. He relied on Shikaku too much to withhold such critical information. Even so, he held back as much as he could about Kakashi's memory loss. Until he figured out the cause, the less that everyone else knew, the better.

Tapping long fingers against the polished wood of his desk, Minato considered. He wanted to hear the report from his Anbu, but that would require summoning Obito. Or, perhaps, he could get by with asking Tenzo about it. The remorse that Obito had shown for what he did to Kakashi wasn't enough; the boy needed to realize that his behavior would not be tolerated. Minato decided to summon Tenzo once Shikaku left and get the full report on the disturbance. Though, he suspected it was a false alarm.

Sensing that he'd only skimmed the surface of Shikaku's reports, Minato nodded. "What else?"

A wry grin twisted the jonin's commander's face as he glanced down at the notes in his hand. "Uchiha Fugaku has requested a private meeting with you." Minato's eyebrows rose at that, wondering who Fugaku would want to talk about, one of his sons or Obito. It wasn't like the clan head to meet with Minato for something minor.

Minato dipped his head in understanding, then Shikaku continued his thought. "He requests a private meeting in the Uchiha compound."

The locale didn't surprise Minato. Fugaku must have found out something about the mystery surrounding Kakashi, but it wasn't something he wanted to risk being overhead. Which meant that it probably touched on some clan secret. Having the Hokage come to the compound instead of the other way around would raise the clan's opinion of Fugaku, at least. There were still some people, particularly in the Uchiha clan, who wished that Fugaku had become Hokage instead of Minato. Hopefully the man's information would be worth the hassle.

Minato glanced at the clock. It wasn't quite noon, and he was already longing for home. "When am I supposed to be there?"

Shikaku consulted his notes to be sure he was correct before speaking. "Tonight. Your schedule was too full to allow time during the day, and with the second exam ending in the morning, there wasn't another opportunity."

Fugaku didn't want to wait that long, Minato realized after a moment. He dipped his head in understanding; there were a million loose ends that needed to be tied up before the final exam could begin. Even problems as important as this one had to wait. Minato rubbed at his temples in frustration, then gestured for Shikaku to continue. "What else?"

(Full chapter and story available on A03 and FF, linked at top of the post)

#Dimi writes #Altered Reality Update #KakaRin #Kakashi #Rin #Full chapter available on Archive and Fanfic #This update is ridiculously old and I'm sorry #Hopefully this will give me inspiration to keep going

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katsidhe · 4 years

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7.02 final thoughts? (Idk if this one has been requested yet)

7.02 Final Thoughts

*rubs hands* Ah, yes, the episode that got me into SPN. I could talk forever about season 7.

Fun drinking game: take a shot every time someone makes a different colorful idiom about Sam being insane. Hint: you’ll die, because I counted 25.

(I WONDER WHY Sam didn’t want to tell Bobby or Dean about his active symptoms of psychosis. Truly, a mystery for the ages.)

Even setting Hallucifer aside, this episode highlights so many of the things I high-key LOVE about season 7: the erosion of Sam and Dean’s support network (as tenuous as that already was)—take away Bobby’s house, take away angelic healing, take away the Impala, make them vulnerable and alone and crumbling under the weight of the trauma they’ve accumulated. The broken leg, Sam’s head injury and seizure in the ambulance? Strapped down, badly injured, the fates of their friends uncertain, headed into the belly of the beast? ICONIC. Over the top. Amazing.

It’s a similar kinda thing to Jody’s predicament—sure, she’s capable enough ordinarily, but if you give her surgery and drug her and leave her alone in a hospital with a liver-eating monster on the prowl, the stakes look a lot different, don’t they? I’ve seen this episode approximately one gazillion times but every time I get tense for her.

Quick thoughts on the Leviathans, which have a reputation as an underwhelming SPN villain. Perhaps because of how unsubtle and half-baked they are as metaphor for corporate greed/capitalistic consumption, perhaps because of how their promise of truly terrifying Old Ones, Cthulu-esque devourers, never quite came true (except for a bit in 7.01 and 7.02, yikes!). But honestly I’ve always liked them—I like how their organization and assimilation of knowledge drives the Winchesters deeper underground than even the Apocalypse did; I like how they made the Winchesters’ entire world into something mundanely unsafe and miserable; I like how they showcase the horror of a enemy composed of lockstep drones, the way that Heaven (and Hell, sometimes) tries to be, but never truly manages; I like Dick Roman’s gleeful ravenousness; I like their spooky mouths; hell, I even like the Dick jokes.

Bobby’s solicitousness towards Dean, and how awkwardly he talks to Sam a little later in the episode, is very emblematic of how bone-deep uncomfortable he is around an honest-to-God mental illness, and, well, around Sam’s issues in general. Which doesn’t make him a bad person, or unsupportive, necessarily. But it’s very evident that he’s got no clue what to say to Sam or how to handle him, that he’s leagues more comfortable dealing with Dean’s problems (as has often been the case regardless of Sam’s mental health).

A related, but separate point: the lengths the show goes to to emphasize “look, Dean’s not okay,” while Sam’s in the middle of a psychotic break… It baffles me a little every time I see this episode, when Bobby walks away from Sam all “yyyyeah I gotta go do some work” and then is immediately all “ok but Dean, how are YOU feeling?” It’d be one thing if Dean weren’t emotionally demonstrative, and if Sam were—if Sam, at this point in the episode, was so obviously struggling to such a painful degree that Bobby wants to make sure Dean’s not overlooking his own reactions. But that’s not really the case. Apart from some flinching, Sam’s been very matter-of-fact about the whole thing so far.

This is our first deep-dive into Sam post-Cage, a full season about he returned. And I love it to pieces, you guys. I love how these inescapable, soul-deep consequences are the inevitable answer to the moral of Sam’s story, where he interred himself with his worst nightmare, forever.

Dean after Hell is clawing for moral high ground. Dean focuses on this bleak kind of virtue, this idea of martyrdom and righteous struggle that eventually unspools and reveals itself to be fundamentally unmoored. He needs some kind of redemption for himself after what he was forced to do in Hell; he needs to own his destiny, and he needs that destiny to be meaningful and good, and he channels his violence outward in that cause.

Sam does not take any kind of high ground. He hurts... himself. He gnaws inward. No illusions about how “messed up” he is—he sidelines himself before Dean or Bobby can say a single word; he figures he needs to be on top of it, needs to get out ahead of the danger he could represent and reassure his family that he knows he’s a hazard. Sam has learned to repress and downplay and hide his traumas and his freakishness both to avoid feeling stigmatized and to avoid being a burden on the people he loves, especially on his brother. So when Dean reacts with fear (understandable) and anger (less so), Sam takes it in stride.

Hallucifer is probably my favorite thing this show has ever done. I could probably write another thousand words on Hallucifer alone—on how Sam’s using this face for coping, for compartmentalizing; both to hurt himself and to keep himself company, to sort through his pain and arrive at a place where it’s at all tenable for him to exist.

Sam’s skepticism about professional mental health treatment—his idea that this is a problem he can handle himself, that a doctor would "just stuff [him] full of pills”—is clearly one born of the family mold. This is his dismissive response to Hallucifer!Dean’s accusation that Sam won’t be able to cut it on his own. This denial, this idea that Sam knows he needs to get a handle on this, and therefore that he MUST do it himself, make a science of it, is fascinating.

On the subject of denial: Hallucifer poses a simple question to Sam: are you sure you got out? And Sam’s NOT sure. Faith that he’s free is yet another maybe-lie that Sam must tell himself with maniacal intensity this season, for the sake of his own sanity, to avoid the voice in his head telling him to shoot himself.

That Scene in the warehouse. Dean’s advice to Sam is to trust in Dean as the cornerstone of his reality. Asks him to build his whole world on his trust in Dean. What choice does Sam have? Who else can Sam rely on? What else can he do? There is no one else, nothing else. There’s only Dean, or Lucifer. It’s a dichotomy. It’s so CHILLING.

Especially in the context of what we know comes next—7.03, where Dean lies to Sam’s face, murders Amy, and uses Sam’s ~insanity~ to defuse Sam’s (justified) anger. And then, season 8, and 9, and 10, and, y’know what, the entire show.

Sam drives his thumb into his bleeding hand, and it’s SPN in a nutshell—forever choosing the claustrophobia of the path of slightly less resistance, forever clinging to the misery of a life that’s only just this side of bearable, burying yourself in the toxic fallout because the alternative is unimaginably nightmarish—using the trappings of free will, of defiance, to choose to claw holes in yourself so that someone else won’t. There is no escape.

Dean’s threat of murder-suicide on the phone is so clearly meant to be sympathetic. And yes, on a certain level it absolutely is; and then on another level, it’s, y’know, MURDER-suicide, where Dean’s taking explicit responsibility for and ownership of Sam’s life, even though Sam’s pretty clearly lucid. Dean’s assuming as a matter of course his ability and right to make that decision for Sam. How Dean views and deals with Sam’s instability in season 7 lays major groundwork for Dean’s willingness to let in Gadreel in 9.01.

#final thoughts #7.02 #sam and lucifer #sam and hallucinations #sam and dean #sam and self-harm #sam and hell #sam and trauma #sam and mental illness #sam and abuse #dean critical #sam and suicide #season 7 more like season HEAVEN #(except that spn heaven sucks ofc and s7 emphatically does not)

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lunaticpuppetmaster · 3 years

Photo

My contribute for Konoha Simps server collab!

Trying to do both drabble and an art was a poor decidion as i am a lil bit late.

Special Thanks to @pfreadsandwrites who beta-readed this drabble!

Title: Lost and Found.

Pairing: Kiba Inuzuka x OC (Tsubasa Yuki)

Summary: Everyone knows that everything you lose will end up in your soulmates possesions. Some people go crazy trying to find their destined one with practically no information. Tsubasa was never interested in finding hers and there is a chance she would never be able to.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death, hurt/comfort

Word count: 6907

When the first symptoms of the family curse appeared, Tsubasa already knew she was doomed. The sickness was rare and there wasn’t much information about it in the Yuki clan library even before the genocide, while after it… well, no information survived. To be honest she did not have much hope at the beginning when her ice-natured chakra just only started to act like a parasite, eating her body and breaking thin bones.

But her sensei had. Mei had always been protective of her pupils, acting like a big sister even after the trio passed the chunin exam. So, when the worst happened, she used all her resources in order to save one of them. Unfortunately, even Kirigakure medics famous for their body knowledge were unsuccessful. The only hope was the best medic alive, Tsunade-hime herself.

Tsubasa did not know how she convinced Tsunade to help or what she promised to her (probably rare Kiri herbs), but the sannin agreed to work on her case. She didn’t promise a cure. To the girl’s pleasure, unlike her sensei, the 5th hokage was rational and she stated right from the start that the chances of recovery were very low and more likely she would just extend the Yuki girl’s agony. It was hurtful, but honest. Tsubasa always respected honesty… and her sensei. She had no other choice, but to promise Mei that she will fight till the end even though she did not want to.

“Maybe you will find your soulmate there,”- said Mei before her departure.

Mei was one of those people who always wanted to find their soulmate, however that was not the reason why she said it. She appreciated different manifestations of love: between friends, parental, sisterly and etc. She also knew that Tsubasa was a pessimist and even the love of people who were close to her was not enough to restore her will to live. At least if she were deeply in love with her soulmate, Mei hoped that Tsubasa could finally find the strength to fight.

Soulmates were always a bone of contention between different social groups: commoners, nobility and shinobi. Especially the last one. Missions and loyalty towards the village must be a number one priority for a ninja. But with soulmates everything became much harder.

Still even the biggest soulmate deniers tried their best to ‘lose things’. Even though little was known about soulmates nature, over the years people were able to learn a couple of useful things:

1 - Every item you lose will end up in your soulmate’s possessions.

2 - You cannot send a letter or any kind of writing this way.

3 - You cannot just throw away a random thing in the air or leave it intentionally on a park bench. So, you must really lose the thing to make it reach your soulmate.

The world was never peaceful. Neither for commoners nor shinobi, so desire to help for so called “true one” was understandable. People tried to tie various useful items with slim strings to their clothes like meds and water. When it came to shinobi they usually tied small scrolls to their bags or jackets hoping that during fights the thread would be cut or ripped and the item lost. Such scrolls were usually filled with food, kunais or ninja pills. Supplies that suddenly appeared managed to save some shinobi on the verge of death more than once. So even soulmate deniers had an opinion that it was practical to help the soulmate and very rude to ignore it. Help for help, life for life, nothing more. Tsubasa was one such person.

Of course, every skilled shinobi could tell from which village the lost item appeared.

Yuki’s soulmate for example was from Konoha. Her teammate Hiroto recognized a specific plant in a found ninja pill. So, she had some chances to run into him during her stay.

But Tsubasa did not want a soulmate. She did not need some stranger. She wanted to stay in Kiri and spend her last days with people she loved with all her heart and soul. Hadn’t she suffered enough? It didn’t look like it.

This was how she ended up in Konoha; or rather in a spare room of Yamanaka-hime’s house. Although Tsunade made efforts, in Yuki’s opinion, she clearly did not have an intention to heal her, but to collect information about how the disease proceeds under various factors, in order to save other unfortunate ones… Tsubasa could tell it from her students. Tsunade put her under the care of somewhat inexperienced newbies, ones who could crawl into her head and feel the patient’s condition themselves. Tsubasa did not blame her for that. She would be happy if her death could help someone. The girl rather felt sorry for distracting Ino from her more important patients. The hime herself was cheerful and sunny person, but in moments that required professionalism she could turn cold and focused with the flick of a finger. “She would be a perfect clan leader one day,” Tsubasa thought.

To be honest Yamanaka’s jutsu was useful for more than just therapy. When they first met, Yuki just simply let Ino read her mind and see her past. It was much faster and easier, plus all the secret information she knew as an ANBU was sealed. In order to get it, they would have had to use much stronger and more traumatic jutsu (and of course torture). Moreover, she was going to die soon, so did it really matter how many people knew her story?

Though when Tsubasa saw the girl’s blank face after reading her mind, she felt guilty. The blonde stayed silent for a few seconds before giving her a hug. She did not need words to say that she will do her best.

Ino was easy to befriend. She also was good at distracting from negative thoughts. Between her regular Tsunade checkups and preparations for missions (It was important to monitor the development of the disease in the field, and all missions would be related to information gathering about the Yuki clan) they were chatting, watching movies and sometimes working in the flower shop. Thanks to Tsubasa’s honey-coloured hair most people mistook her as a distant relative of Yamanaka, so no one asked questions.

Once they ended up talking about soulmates. It started when Ino found some spilled ink on her carpet one day. Hime did not know much about her soulmate except he was really… an artistic type. Through the years she collected various brushes, pencils, erasers and doodles. Once she even found a whole sketchbook (unfortunately half torn)! But there was one thing that made her upset. He never “lost” anything to help her like the majority did.

“Maybe he is from a strict ninja family or a specific ANBU team”, she said with a sad smile.

If Ino’s soulmate was artistic, Tsubasa’s was… quite “special”. Because only a “special” person would end up losing a 6-kilo bag of dog food. Even now, after seven years Tsubasa sometimes wondered ‘how?’.. It was not a pen or a trinket which could be easily left on an academy desk, but a giant bag of dog food! No, he was a good soulmate who was “losing” supplies for her (that once saved her teammate’s life) unlike Ino’s, but still… Even when the blonde heard about it, she could not believe it and then started to laugh hysterically. After such silly small talks Tsubasa felt like she wasn’t fully alone in this foreign village. It almost felt like she had found a friend.

Unlike the other forced teammate.

Every village had a system of having at least 3 people in a team. Moreover, Tsubasa was suffering from her disease and Ino concentrated on helping her. They needed another member.

Tsubasa did not like him from the start. He was loud, narcissistic, clingy and insolent. The kunoichi was easily fed up with his behaviour. She spat out what exactly she thought of him to his face before going back to the Yamanaka estate. Only when she was alone in her room, she understood all her stupidity. She shouldn’t have acted so idiotic and lose her cool. It was essential for a ninja. She also understood why he was chosen among all of the shinobi. As a member of the Inuzuka clan he had a ninken who was already big enough to carry a man. It would be useful in case she became unconscious due to the illness. But she could not help it. A lot of bad things were going on in her life. She felt useless and helpless since she was banned from using her ice chakra. Mei also banned her from using anything that would hide her emotions. She thought that Tsubasa finally needed to learn how to speak and deal with new people. Babysitting was not helpful, so she wanted to try something more radical. Tsubasa understood, but understanding wasn’t enough to cope with the stress. Now she was sitting in the corner of her room shivering. Usually, she would take her father’s mask – the only thing left after his death- and put the cold material close to her forehead thinking what he would say or do. She couldn’t do it any longer. Some of her belongings and a mask were lost during a powerful chakra release at the beginning of the disease.

A few minutes passed before she started to feel better. A sudden knock on the door took her out of thoughts. Tsubasa went to open it thinking it would be Ino. Unfortunately, it was him. The cause for today’s bad mood and their third teammate – Kiba Inuzuka himself. She sighed and looked at him through the door, hiding most of her body behind it. The young man in front of her hesitated and looked a little bit strange or uncertain.

”Listen, I came here to apologise.“

Tsubasa raised her brow. Surely she should have been the one to apologise?. Plus, the boy looked like someone who would rather make a bunch of excuses and snap back than accept he was wrong.

“Well, I shouldn’t have invaded your personal space in the first place.” He scratched the back of his head and looked away. Judging by his behavior, the girl started to understand what actually made his behavior change.“And …uhm, Ino told me about your case so…”

“Showed you,” said Yuki her guess as a statement.

”She d-did not show me much!”

”That’s okay. I don’t mind and Ino knows that.”

“Anyway, I want to start on a clean slate. Here, take it. It’s a half mask and a bottle of blue paint so you can customize it with your clan symbol.”

”Actually…”

“I know that you are not allowed to use anything to hide your emotions, but it is a half mask and I made the holes for eyes bigger so your emotions will be perfectly visible. This is not technically breaking the rule and you will definitely feel better due to your um… well, habit. Just enjoy it, okay? I have to go now, bye!

“W-wait! I cannot…”

But the boy already left, forcing the girl to accept.

After that, though the relationship between the trio smoothed out, it was far from perfect. Tsubasa preferred to act more as a solo player despite her health condition, Kiba was still too loud and tried to act like the leader he never was and Ino … Ino tried not to go crazy in this whole mess called a team. However, overall, their missions were rather calm. Perhaps the three of them needed time to get used to each other before they could accept the others’ faults and learn to compromise. The tension completely disappeared at rest time, when tired teenagers passed time by talking to each other. Often they talked about soulmates. Someone was consulting with others about what would be more useful to seal in a tie-down scroll, the other one was looking through a travel bag for new supplies (or accidentally dropped useless things), another was thinking about loud who their soulmate might be. On one of such days, all of a sudden Tsubasa discovered earrings in a sealed scroll. They were simple and consisted of three deep blue feathers each. The girl looked at them in surprise, not knowing how to react. But, on the contrary, Ino reacted too happily.

“These are so cute! And they match your eye color! Quite a nice present for a soulmate that has never seen you.”

“This must have been a mistake.”

“It was in a scroll. How could this be a mistake? Looks like your soulmate really wishes to meet you and…”

“I don’t need a soulmate, Ino! Like, I don’t believe in perfect matches made by spiritual forces or some sort. I never wanted to have him in the first place! I have a dream to achieve, a family in Kiri. No way if I survive, I will leave it all behind because of some questionable romance! That’s ridiculous!”

Ino sighed and Kiba remained silent. The conversation came to an end. But not the attention from Tsubasa’s soulmate or their mission.

One of those days, when all sorts of cute things and sweets instead of standard ammunition began to show up in Tsubasa’s scrolls more and more, their group stumbled upon really strong opponents. The longer the battle continued the more obvious it became that they were not going to win. Unless Tsubasa broke the rule and used her clan’s abilities. Mei’s order, both as sensei and as Mizukage, always stood above many moral principles for Yuki, but now it was a completely different case. Neither Ino nor Kiba with the sweetest and bravest Akamaru should have been involved in this from the very beginning. They were not supposed to die or risk their lives because of some terminally ill girl from another village and a questionable contract between their Kages. They must live, survive and Tsubasa made up her mind. At first, she managed to eliminate a couple of ninjas and slightly injure the rest using the element of surprise. She was incredibly lucky, because the disoriented opponents were much easier to finish off for Kiba and Ino. Tsubasa by this moment had already lost her eyesight from the tension and saw the battlefield only as a set of white and light gray colors. She lost her breath and her strength to stand upright. But it was nothing compared to the pain that washed over her seconds later.

The kunoichi screamed in pain as she felt blood filling her mouth and an ice crust covering her internal organs. She fell on the cold dusty ground, heart-rendering screams leaving her lips with the blood pulsing her temples, ice needles tearing the muscles of her arms and legs. It seemed like nothing existed except for the all-consuming pain. Through the wall of never-ending white noise, she heard the sounds of Ino’s commands and Akamaru’s frightened barking. This was the last thing she felt before passing out.

Tsubasa woke up with a heavy head and pain all over her body. She listened to her senses before opening her eyes… and it would have been better not to listen to them. Someone brazenly pressed her close to their body and sniffed into the ear. When she opened her eyes the girl immediately screamed. In general, it was a completely normal reaction when you find yourself half-dressed in the arms of an equally half-dressed man. Of course, given that she was half-asleep, her only response was a stream of unpleasant curses and swearing. At first Kiba, who was still sleepy, was happy that the girl woke up, but soon joined the exchange of curses until a joyful, but terribly tired Ino ran up to them, immediately trying to interrupt the catfight and change the topic. Kiba waved his hand resentfully and went off in an unknown direction. Ino stayed with Tsubasa alone.

“Sit down and drink this.”

“Okay, but can I ask you a question first? What the hell happened here?”

”Your disease went out of control. I could barely suppress it. This time it was… too strong. Not like before. When I was finally able to improve your condition, you were still unconscious, your temperature dropped to terribly low levels, and some ice crystals did not disappear. We didn’t risk taking you back to the village in such poor condition. At first, we tried to wrap you up warm, but that didn’t help. Your clothes were quickly soaked by the cold coming from you and it only aggravated your condition. Then we decided that we would warm you one by one with the heat of our bodies. Well, Akamaru too.

Tsubasa howled in embarrassment and Ino sighed.

“Don’t worry. I think Kiba understands what the situation looked like for you. Or he will understand. He is a hot-head, you know, and he needs some time to calm down. But he will.”

”Still, that doesn’t change the fact that I snapped at him twice for literally nothing, especially the last time when I should have said ‘thank you for trying to save my dumb ass’. I feel terrible.”

The blonde girl patted her dejected friend on the shoulder and then said, “ Drink the medicine or, I swear to God, you will regret that you woke up.

The group’s return journey took place in silence. Despite the fact that Tsubasa apologized to Kiba and he accepted the apology, the kunoichi was still tormented by her conscience. She needed to apologize to him properly. Stealing a glance at the still visible ice crystals on her hand, a thought flashed through her: “While I can still do it.”

Night is definitely a wonderful and mysterious time of the day. Too bad that not everyone can enjoy its beauty, but there are also some who would be glad to miss it. For example, some unfortunate souls from the Inuzuka clan. It just so happened that a heightened sense of smell was not the only animal trait some clan members shared. Heightened hearing, too. In battle it was somewhat useful while in everyday life - irritating. During the day, in a mixture of noises, it did not cause much discomfort, but at night, when all the sounds disappeared, a can kicked by a drunk felt like a hit in the head. It is not surprising that such “lucky” clan members often suffered from insomnia and generally lived in the rhythm of night owls, which was very difficult for the shinobi world, where everyone was entirely early birds.

So was Kiba. However, tonight it felt different. His day was active and the sounds on the street did not disturb him, still he could not sleep. It seemed that the whole atmosphere of the house became more and more oppressive with every second spent inside, and the inner desire to walk through the village at night became stronger with every minute. He just wanted to go outside and run. He did not know where, but somewhere, where it was important for him to be now. In the end, when he accepted the fact that he obviously would not sleep today, the young man called his faithful dog and quietly left the house. The night was calm and fresh from the recent rain. Perhaps even too much, but it did not bother Kiba. He gladly wandered through old village streets, breathing in deeply the cold night air until he found himself near the playground. Or better to say, found someone.

Tsubasa sat on the swing all hunched up, almost motionless like a statue, and although this time her face wasn’t hidden by a mask, but her honey hair, Kiba knew that the girl was clearly not radiating joy.

“May I sit?,” he asked. Tsubasa didn’t even flinch.

“Yes.”

Kiba looked at the girl. When they first met, she was strong, cold and impenetrable. A true warrior. But now things were different. As a shinobi, he was not afraid to die on the battlefield, surrounded by dead and, possibly, even rotting bodies. But seeing a person fade like this, when they were unable to do anything about their state, when they burned out like a candle, turning with every second into a pale copy of their former self is what really scared him. At first, he didn’t care much what would happen to Yuki, but now, when her life glimmered on a candle stub, saving her was important. Either she will survive, and he will get rid of animal all-consuming fear, or her pale face, disfigured by illness, in the tongues of the funeral flame will haunt him till the end of his days.

Akamaru rested his head on Tsubasa’s lap. Still lost in her heavy thoughts, Yuki let her hands go of the swing chain and started to mechanically stroke and scratch the ninken behind the ears.

”Hey Tsu, I know that you are that type of shinobi who tries to follow the code perfectly. But we are not made of steel. You are not made of steel. You are feeling bad and tired. It’s unlikely that I will hear something that Ino did not show me or did not hear from you. Sharing pain as a shinobi is hard, but it’s even harder to keep your cool when you are on the verge of being broken by your own emotions. Even though I talk too much, anything you tell me tonight will stay here, I promise. So, tell me what’s eating you.

”You’re right. I am tired. I am weak, although I’ve tried to prove myself otherwise for my whole goddamn life. Even when I felt bad and thought that everything was lost, I clung to a few good things that I had. What does not kill makes us stronger, and the world, even drowning in war and blood, is still too beautiful to give up, especially the little things that everyone forgets. That’s what my father taught me. My path has never been covered with rose petals. Well.., for most people, actually. Still, I didn’t stop fighting for the people I love. Only when the clan curse showed itself… I was really scared. I felt completely helpless. And after the recent events… Fuck all my experience, knowledge and even more ranks. I am useless. I… I must accept the truth. I will die soon Kiba and I do not want to die here.”

Her previously smooth and still voice started to crack. Her shoulders shivered slightly.

“You, Ino and your friends are wonderful people and in general I like Konoha, but it will never be my home, and you will never replace my family. I hate to break promises, but I really don’t want to keep the one I gave to sensei and friends. I just want to give up and go back to Kiri. I miss them so much and want to see them one last time. Besides there is also one thing that bothers me…”

Mei was not that wrong when she said that Tsubasa might fall in love in Konoha. She actually did, but not with the soulmate destined by the stars. She fell in love with an eccentric, slightly arrogant and silly boy who may have not really known her, but still tried to help. Simply because he did not lose faith in her or their team, because he acted friendly with her and could cheer her up even in her darkest moments. For the fact that he could knock on the window at one in the morning and invite her into the forest to look at the fireflies. Just like that. It wasn’t like love at first sight, or a long courtship. With each passing day her feelings grew stronger washing over her like waves. Unfortunately, there were few “BUTs” that Tsubasa could not ignore:

She was from another village and even though there were many bad things in the hidden Mist, she was not going to betray it or move anywhere. She promised herself to help Sensei make the village a better place, and she was not going to give up on her dream either. Kiba was also too loyal to his family and friends. He would never leave them for some Kirigakure girl.

Moreover, Tsubasa felt guilty about her soulmate. Yes, she never saw him, but that did not stop him from taking care of her and obviously dreaming about their meeting. It would be wrong just not to care about his feelings.

Most importantly, that applied to both Kiba and the unknown “true one” - she was dying. She was a weak sick girl who had a month left to live at best. Of course, she could confess her feelings to the boy next to her right now, feel loved and die with a drop of happiness… But was it fair for Kiba who would have to live with this burden until the end of his days? Definitely not. She couldn’t do that to him. That’s why she would rather stay silent, burn out from her feelings, because at least she would not let him suffer.

“I just don’t know what to do… I feel lost.”

She lifted her head, blue feathers of her earnings blowing in the wind. Her face was emotionless and her body calm, yet uncontrollable tears were streaming down her face.

The boy took her freezing hand and pulled her into a hug. Tsubasa bit her lip, burying her face in his shoulder and soaking his jacket with tears.

”You lost only because you gave up right away as soon as you found out about your diagnosis! Stop thinking about the fucking disease! Focus on something else! Not on the loved ones, since it causes you so much pain. Focus on your dreams! On your soulmate!”

“Why are you so obsessed with the idea of soulmates?”

“Why are you so disgusted with the idea itself?”

She let his hand go and exhaled. There was no trace of her emotional outburst except for her bloodshot eyes. Tsubasa grabbed the swing chains, thinking for a second.

“I do not believe in fairy tales about gods, who loved each other and were separated, that blessed all mortal couples with a secret connection, in revenge to the rest of the pantheon. Why did everyone suddenly start to think that it was a love connection? What if that bond means a strong friendship? And how can finding lost things help my soulmate find me or specifically, my body? The only variant I see is where you tattoo the coordinates on your hand and lose it in battle. An ‘excellent’ plan! Moreover, where are the guarantees that soulmate couples will be happy? Give me one example.”

”Ino’s parents are soulmates.”

Both of them suddenly turned silent.

”As far as I know, Mrs. Yamanaka did not even know our language when she arrived here. She was from another country, with completely different customs, still she risked going into the unknown. And I don’t know any stronger couple.”

“The way you talk about it… Your parents aren’t soulmates either, are they?”

He nodded.

”Don’t get me wrong, I love my mother. In fact, my father left when I was one year old, so she and my sister raised me. But… My mother is a very difficult person. As far as I can remember, it was always important for her to be the first and she never cared about the feelings of others. This is good for a warrior, but not for a family member. She could easily say things that will hurt you, including the ones she said on purpose, as a joke in order to please her ego. When you tried to talk to her about this and ask her to tone it down a little, she pretended to listen at first, but soon forgot about it. As for my father, he was not from our clan, not even from our village. He was a stranger and ended up being at the very bottom of the clan’s hierarchy. My sister said that he could stand a lot of things, but not the betrayal and disregard towards him from his once loved one. Of course, this was not the only reason he left. After that, looking at how Ino’s parents perfectly understand each other and always try to find a compromise, on how strong their union is… I want the same kind of family. Yes, I can act like my mother, be short tempered and impulsive. I think you noticed it when we first met. I admit I behaved horribly, but with people close to me, whom I don’t want to lose, I try to control myself and work on it.”

“That’s… amazing Kiba. And despite the fact that you mostly act like a jerk -” he snorted and a small smile formed on her lips- “I have to admit that after knowing you better, I have respect for you. You don’t try to please everyone. You give all of yourself and your warmth only to the ones that are close to you. Only to those who, in your opinion, deserve it, disregarding the rest. This is right. I share the same point of view. But since you really want to find your soulmate, have you ever thought that you might end up being the one to leave your home? Are you ready for such a sacrifice yourself?”

Kiba fell silent. At first it seemed that he was deep in thought, but in reality, everything was different. He was frightened and listened to the silence of the night trying to find out if someone was eavesdropping on them. For a moment, the girl even thought that he used ninjutsu to sniff out strangers and make sure that there were no one near them.

As white as a sheet, he took her hand and ‘wrote’ his answer on the inside of her palm with a finger:

“Yes”

She glanced at him. His actions spoke louder than words.

“Your father is dead, isn’t he?”

”Were you born in a clan or joined it later, you cannot leave it.”

”I understand. After all, in Kiri, a lot is happening inside our clans too.”

They both sat in uncomfortable silence.

“When you said that my parents are not soulmates, you also said “either”. So..?”

“You heard right. You know that before Terumi-sama, Kirigakure was overflowing with nepotism and bribery? Well, people were willing to do anything to move up the career ladder. My mother really wanted a higher position in ANBU, so she made my father fall in love with her and convinced him that she was his soulmate. As you understand, it was also important for my father to find ‘the true one’ but when he realized that he was fooled it was already too late. He comforted himself with the fact that he seemed to love my mother even without that spiritual bond, plus he loved me with all his heart and soul. But in fact, the love between my parents was one-sided… and because of the special treatment to the Yuki clan, my father was never at home. So… when you start looking for your destined one, please be careful, okay? I do not want the same fate for you or for anyone else.”

Okay, let’s change the topic” - he waved his hands in a playful defensive gesture “You mentioned that you have a dream. So, what kind of dream?”

“Well, you chose a bad one to distract me, because my dream is deeply connected with my family. You know about the genocide of the Yuki clan?”

“Mmm, sorry, to be honest, not really. Only that when the Uchiha clan was massacred, the elders whispered with each other that it could be the same case as it was with your clan, where it was the Kage’s order or some sort.”

“The Yuki clan was once considered to be one of the most powerful clans in the village of the Hidden Mist. And of course, quite dangerous, especially for the past Mizukage, or rather, for the one who controlled him. So, one night, the entire main branch was killed and the clan’s library burned down. The Yuki clan was officially made part of a lower caste. Some clan members managed to escape, while others were often sent on dangerous and suicidal missions. Now from the once large clan, only 30-40 people remain in Kiri, and most of them are elders and children. For comparison, grandfather Naoki had four children, the same age as my father, and only one daughter remained alive. As you know, my frightened and repressed clan avoided communicating with each other. In fact, in my childhood, it was as if the clan did not exist at all. Childhood in Kiri was not easy, but the other children at least had a clan, a large family that stood up for them. I wanted it too. I wanted to be a part of a clan and before my illness I dreamed of reviving the Yuki clan, regaining lost knowledge and finding all the relatives lost around the world, whom, as far as I heard, were not liked by both ninjas and civilians. But now after that illness… I must find every single Yuki alive to make sure that no one will be alone while fighting the family curse and that no one will go through the same pain as me, giving them a chance to be cured. And I will do it, no matter what… If I survive, of course…”

“It’s … A great dream to achieve-,” he scratched his head not knowing what to say- “And I am sure you will! Just don’t be so pessimistic! “

”I am realistic.”

“Pessimistic.”

“Realistic!”

“OK, OK!” he chuckled.“Looks like only realists like you, who talk about how bad and terrible everything will be, turn out to be chuunins.”

“What? Kiba, I don’t… urgh forget it! Arguing with you on any topic is simply useless when you are stubborn as a mule.”

“Said another mule!”

She laughed. Warmly and sincerely, for the first time this evening, and perhaps since they returned from that ill-fated mission.

”By the way, if your life in the hidden mist was so bad why do you hate the idea of moving to another place? Like here, to Konoha?”

“First of all, my life in Kiri is perfect now. Secondly, when people will learn that I am from the hidden mist they will hate me. The only thing that saves me now is that commoners think I am a distant relative of Ino.”

“Why do you think that?”

“You never heard why Kiri women are hated so much?”

“No.”

“Well let me tell you,” she grinned sinisterly. “One year, in our village, due to hunger, disease and war, there were practically no men left. Then the women decided to fill this gap by stealing men from other villages. But then they questioned themselves, how to transport healthy and adult shinobi without harming them? This is how the world-famous art of Kirigakure ANBU was born, thanks to which we can immobilize even the most powerful warrior,” she chuckled as a senbon she used in some missions appeared from nowhere, - “With the combination of many factors, but still. Well, those poor souls who ended up in Kiri … they essentially had no choice, but to marry ladies there if they wanted to live.”

“Are you joking?!”

“I’m not! In fact, my great-grandfather was kidnapped from the village hidden in the Stone. So, be careful Inuzuka Kiba! Who knows, maybe my illness is just a part of a secret mission and I’m actually here to pick up suitable candidates… And you might end up being one of them! You may turn out to be a good third husband for me, you know?”

He laughed.

“Oh really? Well, I would die to see how you would try to steal me with such an amazing guard as Akamaru!”

“Oh darling,” she grinned and hugged the huge white dog,” I would find a way to make that adorable boy my partner in crime! “

Akamaru happily barked in agreement and both teenagers burst into laughter, almost falling off the swing.

“By the way,” she said after a small pause, “I have to admit that fireflies are much more beautiful in Konoha. Thank you for letting me enjoy such beauty…”

He bit his lip and took her hand in his. The Ice crystals were still showing from her bandage returned them both to the dreadful reality.

“You will survive Tsu, I promise you, and you will see many more fireflies. Not only these.”

She looked at him with a faded, crooked smile. A smile that only gravely ill and very tired people have. Kiba returned her a look and his heart squeezed painfully in his chest, skipping a beat.

“Don’t make a promise that you can’t keep.”

”I’ll keep it! You will see. We are close to finding the ancient temple of the Yuki clan, and there definitely should be information on how to cure you. And after the next mission is completed, we will go to a grill bar! In the land of water there are only sea creatures and practically no normal beef. I cannot let you go back to Kiri without letting you know all the delights of good meat.”

She chuckled.

“If you say so.”

But there would be no grill bar or any next time. They found information about the temple location, but at the cost of everything else. The disease turned out to be unstoppable at this point. Luckily, they managed to reach it in time and save Tsubasa’s life.

Three months had passed since her miraculous recovery. Representatives of the Mist village appeared in Konoha the next day and took the girl with them, not allowing her even to say goodbye to her new friends. Still, their paths will cross in the future.

Upon returning to Kiri, Tsubasa began to communicate a lot with Ino through letters, which made the Mizukage almost ecstatic. She hoped that friendship with the clan princess would turn into a possible strong political tie in the future. One way or another, Mei was going to make her children, if not a future Mizukage, then those on whom the village could rely. Sometimes Mei was so happy about the benefits that Tsubasa had a feeling that her illness and departure to Konoha were part of Sensei’s plan to improve relationships with the village from the very beginning. However, she thought it was too weird and silly to be true.

She also sent letters to Kiba. Feelings for him that suddenly flared up in her heart were not planning to disappear, but she still had no intention of getting into his personal life. He wanted to find his soulmate, and she respected that wish. This was the least she could do for him. “Besides,” she thought while drinking peach tea in the evenings and remembering how he was trying to warm her drastically freezing body on their trip to the temple, “it is unlikely that we would have succeeded even if there would be no soulmate. We are too loyal and attached to our villages and clans. None of us would move to another village for the sake of other. Only a soulmate had such privilege.“

Therefore, she was happy to be his friend at least, send the boxes of tangerines and dried seafood snacks on special occasions, help with advice on everyday problems that all teenagers went through, regardless of which shinobi village they were born in, and just talk about all sorts of nonsense.

At six am, there was a loud knock on the door. Tsubasa was just getting ready for the training and she had no idea who would need to see her at such an early hour (her teammates were waiting for her at the training field, so it could not be them).

A familiar figure was standing outside of the door. Tired from the road, a little nervous, but smiling. Holding a medium-sized flat box under his arm.

“Kiba? What are you doing here, especially this early?!”

“There were reasons,” he said giving her a box, “may i come in?”

“Of course, you can, I’ll make you some tea and something to eat for you two.”

The girl moved away to the side, letting the boy and his dog into the apartment. Akamaru immediately stretched and laid himself on the carpet of the living room, while Kiba took a seat in the kitchen.

“So, what’s the reason you came here?”

“Open the box,” he said with a smile.

Tsubasa raised her eyebrows skeptically. She put the box on the table, thin fingers gripping the blue lid and pulling it up. Her father’s mask with its cold material was staring right into the girl from the inside. Frozen in complete shock, looking at the once-lost thing dear to her heart, she did not notice how Kiba approached her from behind.

“I just felt lost,” he said in a soft voice, while tucking a loose strand behind her ear. Their faces were only a few inches apart, “And desperately wanted to be found.”

#Kiba Inuzuka #kiba #naruto oc #kiba inuzuka x oc #konoha simps server collab #server collab #konoha simps #kiba inuzuka #soulmate #kiba x oc #naruto #naruto drabble #drabble #soulmate au

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writingwithadinosaur · 4 years

Text

“Under the Knife” - Part 10 (Finale)

My Masterlist - Here

Story Masterlist - Here

My Tag List - Here

Hannibal Lecter x Reader, Will Graham x Sister!Reader

Word Count: 3,800-ish

Key: Chunks of text in italics are (Y/N)’s thoughts. Y/N = Your Name, H/C = Your Hair Color, E/C = Your Eye Color

Warnings: Cursing, talk of violence, talk of death

Summary: You are Will Graham’s sister who works with him at the FBI. When you get offered a job promotion, life starts to change. Some changes for the better; Some for the worst.

Author’s Note: Well, we are finally at the final chapter. This has been such an incredibly challenging story to work on, but I have learned so much from this process that will no doubt help shape my future stories.

Thank you to all of the readers who have liked, reblogged, commented, messaged, and reached out to me. This has been the best response I’ve gotten on a story and it has filled me with a level of appreciation that I wasn’t expecting. <3

With the sappy stuff out of the way, please enjoy the final chapter of “Under the Knife.”

This is beta-read by @theeactress, but please let me know if there is something that we missed or that we should look at again!

- DreaSaurusREX

Tag List: @fruitloopzzz @theeactress @melconnor2007 @ashenfallsof @geeksareunique @all-by-myself98 @sj-thefan @fuck-your-bad-vibes-dude @ntlmundy @a-person-unlabled @germansarechill @rentheanonymous @liadamerondjarin

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“Taking into account that Henry Urik was left-handed, I was able to throw my head back, causing him to falter, and then lean to my right in order to escape his grasp and not have my throat sliced open. This gave me enough time to get back to the table and get my hands on the gun.”

“Unfortunately, the gun was empty. It’s common for killers to use unloaded or fake guns as intimidation techniques with their victims. My mistake gave Henry enough time to stabilize himself and grab hold of me again, resulting in a mild concussion and being knocked unconscious until a few hours later. Luckily Dr.Lecter was able to fight, thus saving me until Special Agent Crawford and his team could come.” You looked around and saw a few people taking notes while others just nodded their heads. Checking your watch, you saw that you had a few more minutes left to fill up. “And with that, I have time for one or two questions before we leave.”

The lights faded up a little bit, nothing too harsh for you. You quickly scanned over the larger than the normal crowd in your lecture hall.

The fact that you, a survivor of the Virginia Scalpel, were giving a lecture on the case had attracted the minds of not only your normal trainees but the higher-ups as well.

It was a slightly dizzying feeling to see the faces of management in your lecture hall, but that could also be the still healing minor concussion from a serial killer slamming you into a table a little less than a week ago. Either way, you took this time to sit on your desk and drink some water as you pointed to one of the trainees in the first row.

“I don’t want to bring up anything too triggering, ma’am, but I--”

“Kid, if I wasn’t okay enough to jump back into the shitstorm named Henry Urik, I wouldn’t have agreed to be here today.” A scattering of chuckles echoed through the hall. You were glad to hear that your lighthearted comment helped ease the tension in the room. “Please, continue. I’ll be okay, I promise.” The agent nodded and took a breath, whatever they were going to ask must have been weighing on their mind enough to scare them. You could tell that they were trying to hide it, but your ability to read people's subtleties was strong.

“Thank you, ma’am. I wanted to ask for your advice. What should we be aware of if we’re ever in a similar situation with an unstable or unpredictable suspect? What do we do?”

You nodded and thought for a moment before you responded. You had a feeling that this type of question would come up now or through an email later on. Fiddling with your ring, you spoke.

“To be honest, you have to be able to assess everything at the moment. I may have seemed to have a handle on the situation externally, but internally? I was a quivering, frantic, and terrified mess. With Henry’s focus being solely on me, I knew I couldn’t just sit there. I knew that if I froze, it could have cost not only my life but also Hannibal’s.” You took a deep inhale through your nose before continuing. The thought of losing Hannibal hurt your heart. “My advice: really focus on the suspect. What are they saying? How are they saying it? What are they doing? Are there any mannerisms o-or phrases that hint at any sort of soft spot?”

You held up a finger and turned to your computer, scrolling back through your presentation until you found the slide you were looking for. It was a diagram showing how all of the victims tied to Henry as well as Henry’s symptoms. You turned back towards your class.

“While I knew a majority of this information before my encounter with Dr.Urik, I only knew the facts at face value. When he and I talked about his experiences with all of these doctors, Henry let his anger and annoyance towards these men out. His voice changed from the seemingly calm and confident man that had just had a gun pointed at me, to a frustrated patient who just wanted answers that he believed in.”

“Now if we want to talk about more physical tells, that is the premise for another lecture entirely. You can tell a lot about a person without either of you having to utter a word.”

You looked at the trainee, they were watching you, truly listening to everything you had to say. From the almost unnoticeably tensed jaw to the stiff posture, this future agent was using all of their power not to tremble in fear at the thought of being in a scenario like this. You saw the fear in their eyes.

“As long as you breathe, remember your training, and let yourself fully assess the situation at hand, you’ll do the best you can do. Trust me, there were two very distinct moments that night where I thought and accepted the possibility that I was going to die. That’s a risk we all take with this job. But I focused on what I could do next and kept going. And that’s what you’ll learn throughout your time in training and in the field. You cannot stop, you have to keep going.”

You ended with a smile directly to the trainee to try to calm their nerves even a little bit. They visibly took a deep breath and nodded, giving you a quiet “thank you” before writing something in their notebook. Your saw movement out of the corner of your eye. Will and Hannibal were now standing off to the side, letting you know that you were almost done. Will was more rigid than usual. You assumed he heard the part about accepting death and he did not like that thought.

Hannibal caught your eye as he tapped his watch. Nodding, you looked back to the class, prepared to dismiss them. That was until you saw a hand near the back. Before you could say or do anything, the man with the raised hand spoke.

“How were you able to confirm the Scalpel’s motive? What stood out with him that made him suspect number 1?” You took a slightly larger breath as you realized it was one of the assistant directors speaking. Blinking a few times and gathering your thoughts you tried to sound as professional as you could.

“Well, we originally were looking for an active doctor. Someone who could have access to the equipment and drugs needed for these killings. But then we realized that it could be a former doctor who was now a patient of these doctors.” You gestured to the slide projected behind you. “As for motive, we could only theorize until we talked to Henry himself. And while talking to him face-to-face last week revealed a lot, we cannot actually confirm anything when it comes to his psyche.”

“But you said it yourself, he was frustrated at the answers that these doctors had given him. So wouldn’t the Virginia Scalpel murders be crimes of passion, making his motive emotional overload?” The man spoke. You were thrown off just a bit, but found your way back to correct wording.

“They actually weren’t crimes of passion. Those are usually impulsive and emotionally driven. The Virginia Scalpel crime scenes, especially that of Dr.Pencalt and his wife, showed us that Henry was methodical and purposeful.”

“Yes, there could have been an emotionally charged aspect to it. He was upset with these men. I theorized with Dr.Lecter and Special Agent Crawford that these killings could have been some sort of pain relief for his headaches. The act of slaying these men took all of his focus, alleviating the pounding in his head.”

“At one point, he said that killing was a form of mercy and life could be considered torture. So he could very well have just wanted to spare them from this mortal coil. Or maybe Henry saw these murders as a way of honoring them. Maybe there was even a thrill-seeking aspect that he got a kick from.” You stood up from your spot on your desk, feeling yourself getting a bit weary after so much talking over the last hour or so, and tried to politely wrap this all up.

“Where I’m going with this is the fact that we can theorize all we want-- Hell, we can even settle on what we believe his motive was. But that’s all it’ll be: A belief. We will never truly know because Dr. Urik was found dead in the woods behind his former office building, stabbed a handful of times, and had enough of his own paralytic drug in his system to take down an ostrich.”

They were out of your sightline, but Hannibal and Will both smirked at how well you had handled the situation. It wasn’t often that managerial positions were proven wrong in front of a classroom full of people. However, both of their smiles slowly fell as the assistant director continued.

“I guess his death is a breath of fresh air, right? You can sleep at night knowing that the Virginia Scalpel is no longer out there. No more target on your back.” The assistant director tried to say that as a lighthearted joke. Something to lighten the mood. But you forced a pained smile and spoke your mind.

“Yes. I am thankful that I don’t have to worry about a scalpel cutting into my cheek again, or almost slicing my throat, or finding Dr. Lecter chopped into pieces in his bed or maybe even Henry breaking his pattern and going after the last bit of family that I have left. I guess sleeping should be easier, shouldn’t it?”

You looked directly at the man as you spoke, the gravity of your situation and the insensitivity of his statements hitting him. You shifted your gaze to the trainees that were in the first few rows and continued, straightfaced.

“But I am curious as to what he would have to say and how that perspective could have helped us catch others like him. I hope that you all can find that same curiosity as I do. If we can catch them and talk to them, we could learn what makes them tick and get information that could help us catch the next one before it's too late.” You let a beat of silence pass, letting your words sink into the minds of the young ones. “Thank you all for your time. For questions regarding the Virginia Scalpel case, please contact Special Agent Crawford and he will see if you are authorized to view the file notes. If you need to reach me for any reason other than the Virginia Scalpel case, you all have my email. Stay safe out there.”

You turned away from the class and shut down your computer, trying to gather your things as the room applauded. You raised a hand as a way of saying “thank you but please stop” and they all filed out of the room.

“I think that went well despite Assistant Director Ass-Hat’s commentary at the end there” Will made his way to you, grabbing your jacket from the chair behind you and holding it in his hands, gripping it tighter than normal as if doing so would solidify in his brain that you were here and safe.

“Thanks. For someone with a shaken brain, I think I did pretty good today.” You joked back at your brother. Looking over your shoulder, you saw the beginnings of his brain spiraling with worry.

If he was being honest, Will still hasn’t fully gotten over the events of last week. It was his exact fear almost coming true. And while he was forever thankful that you were alive today, he was worried that this near-death experience wouldn’t be enough to stop you from continuing to work active cases. The fact that you wanted to give this presentation so soon after you were released from the hospital validated his worry more and more.

“I still think it’s too soon for you to be back here.”

“If you had your way, I would never step foot near this building again, Will.” You joke over your shoulder as you slide your laptop into your bag. “But I also think that that is just your way of trying to get me to be a 24/7 dog sitter.” Will huffed out a breath that sounded like a dry chuckle.

“I’m not saying that, but if you ask Winston or the others, I’m sure they would be all for that idea.”

You finally turn fully to Will and lightly smack his arm. His face fades from a small smile to an unmasked face of worry as he looks down at the jacket in his hands that he is still fiddling with.

“I know this isn’t going to change your decision on whether or not you stay with Jack’s team, but I really don’t like that idea.”

“You said the same thing the first time we had this conversation.”

“Yes, but that was before you got seriously injured while working a case.”

“I wasn’t seriously injured.” Will was going to interject, but you kept talking. “But I understand. What we do is dangerous. But I’m going to say the same thing I said last time: I have the chance to save lives, and that is a good enough reason for me to stay.”

Before either of you could continue, Hannibal finally made his way over. His hand landed comfortably on your lower back for a long moment to alert you of his presence.

You and Hannibal had talked about your mutual feelings for one another and agreed to start exploring a romantic relationship. That being said, you haven't told Will yet. Luckily, the gesture from Hannibal was easily passed as friendly to your unknowing brother.

“The assistant director wanted me to pass along his apology, (Y/N). He didn’t mean to insult you with his statements.” You waved your hand dismissively.

“I know he didn’t mean to. But it was a nice excuse to hand a ‘powerful male’ his ass in front of a whole room. I’m sure his ego will bounce back in no time.” You let a devilish smirk grace your features, earning a smile from Hannibal and a chuckle from Will.

Hannibal looked to Will and saw how he was holding your jacket. Hannibal just offered his hand.

“I can take that, Will. You should go. You don’t want to be late for your own lecture. I will make sure your sister is safe.”

The hospital discharged you, but you were still healing. The cut on your cheek was almost healed, but you kept a bandage on it to be safe. A scar would surely form, permanently reminding you of your first case. Most people would associate it with the fear of impending doom by the hands of a serial killer. But you were actually okay with it. You saw it as a reminder of what you were able to survive.

The most inconvenient thing was that you weren’t allowed to drive yourself. Between the healing concussion and the medications you were on, driving was not the safest thing. So Hannibal and Will took it upon themselves to compare schedules and be your drivers.

When Hannibal had afternoon patients or had to work late on something, you would stay with Will. On days where Will was needed at work, you would stay with Hannibal. Sometimes you would stay in their homes, and sometimes they would crash on your couch. Well, Will would crash on your couch. Hannibal would share the bed with you, protecting you from anything that would try to get you physically or mentally.

Even when you decided to stay at Hannibal’s home, you felt safe. The dining room was a bit haunting. But you knew that no matter what, if something felt off or if you were in any sort of danger, Hannibal would step up and help the best he could.

Your boys (and the dogs) made sure you were safe no matter where you were.

If there was anyone Will trusted to watch over you, it was Hannibal. He was the reason you weren’t the Scalpel’s ninth victim.

Will just nodded and struggled to hand over the jacket. Your heart ached because you knew how easily concerned he got when it came to you. But you could also see that he was trying to let go of some of that worry, letting himself see that Hannibal was a safe man to have in your life. You closed the gap between you and Will and wrapped your arms around him, feeling how tense and distraught he was.

“I will text you as soon as I get home, alright?” Will nodded his head as he squeezed you just a bit tighter. You squeezed back, knowing he needed the reassurance. He pulled away and you patted his shoulder. “Don’t give your kids too much shit today.”

You both snorted, knowing there was some truth behind the joke. Will said goodbye to Hannibal and left the room, leaving you and Hannibal alone.

As much as you wanted to hurry up and get out of here, you had to lean against the desk as you zipped up your bag, really feeling your lack of energy now.

“Are you alright?” Nodding, you took a sip from your water bottle before speaking.

“Yes? Did a lot of talking and thinking today. I think I’m starting to get tired.” You let a chuckle-esque exhale come through your nostrils. “Gotta build my energy back up.”

Hannibal stood in front of you, gently placed your jacket down on the desk, and took one on your hands in his. To any normal person, it just looked like he was holding your hand to comfort you. But you knew him. He was gathering data: Pulse, temperature, if your hands were clammy, and whatever else he could find out. But he was also holding your hand to comfort you a little.

After determining your vitals to be manageable, he lifts his hand to brush a few strands of hair from your face, letting his thumb stroke your cheek for a moment.

“I think it's time to go home and rest, don’t you?” Hannibal proposed. You nodded and grabbed your jacket from next to you.

“My place or yours?”

“Your choice, my love.” You couldn’t help but smile at the new and special sobriquet that Hannibal had started using more frequently. Hannibal kissed the back of your hand before helping you stand up, putting your hand on his arm to guide you out.

“I think my place tonight. And maybe we can stop at the store on the way and you can finally show me how to cook something worthy of the esteemed food artist, Hannibal Lecter?” Hannibal smirked at your dramatics.

“Do you think you’ll have the energy for that?”

“No. But I’d still like to try.” You leaned towards Hannibal and felt a pleading smile make its way across your face, knowing Hannibal was already going to agree to your idea. He still pretended to think it over before nodding.

“That sounds like a lovely evening.” You felt yourself wiggle just a bit out of happiness, Hannibal smiled at the cuteness of the motion.

Hannibal reached out and touched the doorknob, but before he could open the door, you were distracted by your phone buzzing in your pocket. When you looked at the caller ID, your feet stopped moving and your heart dropped. You couldn’t tell if it was out of fear or excitement. Maybe a weird mix of both.

Hannibal turned to you, watching your face carefully as you answered.

“(Y/N) speaking.”

“How you feelin’, (Y/N)?” You hadn’t heard Jack’s happy voice in a while. You weren’t sure if this one was real or fake. So you proceeded with caution.

“I’ve been better, but I’m also doing a lot better compared to a few days ago.”

“Good. Good...” Crawford trailed off, his mind obviously on something else.

There was an awkward silence. You knew Jack was trying to figure out how to phrase something without stressing you out after the last couple of weeks. You knew what that something was and you appreciated the effort to try and not overwhelm you, but you didn’t like this small talk part. So you took a deep breath before kick-starting the conversation that you knew Jack was trying to ease into.

“I get the feeling that this isn’t a social call, is it, Jack?”

“No. It is not, (Y/N). We have another odd case that we could use your help with.”

You felt your thumb subconsciously go to wiggle your ring. You knew this conversation was going to happen eventually, but even knowing that didn’t lessen the anxiety you felt. Hannibal stepped closer and took your hand in his, lightly running his thumb across your knuckles. You knew he was trying to ease your mind with the small gesture. You mouthed “Thank you” to him and smiled.

Jack continued before you could say anything. “You don’t have to give me an answer right now. But the sooner the better.”

“How about I get back to you tomorrow afternoon?” You stated more than asked. Jack agreed to that and hung up. Hannibal could see that you weren’t stressed but you also weren’t excited.

“I take it Agent Crawford wants to borrow your mind again?” You nod your head, going back and forth in your mind about whether or not to take him up on his offer again or let yourself rest for a bit longer. “What’s stopping you from saying yes?”

“Not much to be honest.” You look at Hannibal and see him watching you, ready to react to anything you say or do. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Could you be my partner, Hannibal?” You ask and almost fear his response. You didn’t want to be a burden. But very quickly you are met with that lovely rare smile of his.

“It would be an honor to be your partner, in life and on a case.” You smile as you lean towards him and he meets you halfway, pecking your lips softly, his hand smoothing its way to your back. The two of you pull away and he ushers you out of the room. “After all, someone has to protect that beautiful and reckless mind of yours.”

You shot Hannibal a look as the two of you walked to his car, ready for one more relaxing night before jumping right back into the chaos.

#hannibal lecter #Hannibal TV #hannibal fanfiction #hannibal fandom #hannibal lecter x reader #will graham x sibling!reader #sibling!will graham #Sibling!Will Graham x Reader #will graham #will graham x reader #will graham / reader #hannibal lecter / reader

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brokenbarnes · 4 years

Text

Those Three Words

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Genre: Angst/fluff

Description: Bucky’s nightmares don’t always stay at night, but you clean him up after a mission and bring him back into the light.

Warnings: blood, gore, PTSD symptoms???

A/N: Hi y’all I’ve been so uninspired but I managed to pull this one out of my ass. Hope you enjoy. Idk if this is a drabble or a fic but whatever

There were many nights when Bucky woke up, screaming his throat raw from another night terror or you found him standing stiff as a rod, waiting instructions from a handler who would never come. It was a miracle when the both of you slept through the night. When that happened, he would wake you up with gentle kisses across your skin, his hands tracing patterns in your back or arms. “How’d you sleep?” You’d ask, already knowing the answer. “Great,” he murmured, sliding his lips across your collarbone. It wasn’t only during the night that the memories would haunt him. You were curled up in bed after a long painful day of training new recruits when the doorknob twisted. Him, Steve and Nat had been gone for three weeks in Eastern Africa on a recon mission. Over the phone, Bucky told you that things were alright; but the tone of his voice told you otherwise. Now, here he was in the doorway, his stealth suit a little battered, a little bloody with some wear and tear. To be honest, it was in better shape than most times he had returned from a long mission. “Hey,” you sat up, letting the blankets fall down around you. “I didn’t know you guys were coming home.” “We wrapped things up early,” he murmured, shutting the door behind him. You stood up and wrapped your arms around him tightly. He hissed as your body pressed into his front, but not from your soft curves or gentle touch. “Are you hurt?” You pulled away, scanning his body for injuries. “M’fine, Doll,” he murmured. You touched his ribs and he winced audibly. “Liar,” you murmured with a coy smile, sliding your hand into his. “Come on, Honey.”

Into the bathroom you went, pulling out the state-of-the-art first-aid kit from the cabinet. You had finally bitten the bullet and ordered the best Amazon could provide after he started missions with the team. Bucky started to unzip his suit, gently prying off pieces of the thick Kevlar and tossing it onto the tile next to him. “How did the mission go?” You asked, popping open the latches and balancing the kit on the counter. He bent his head, focusing on the straps for his chest piece. You paused your actions, taking notice in his body language. A gentle hand swept over his hair, tucking a thick piece behind his ear. “Honey, what happened?” You asked softly. Bucky slid the piece from his chest and it dropped to the floor, the white of his undershirt was stained red on his right side and a few more blotches scattered across his chest. “Whenever we get near them, I can’t shake ‘em,” Bucky shook his head, leaning against the counter. “I stepped inside the compound and just… felt like I was back in there again.” You brushed your hands through his hair and down his back softly, letting his words come out at their own pace. That’s what you’ve learned about your soldier, if you give him time; everything will come out. “I screwed up,” he admitted, looking up into your eyes. “Steve told me not to go into this room and… it looked exactly like the room that I used to be in. Where they would…” he squeezed his eyes shut, “punish me.” You nodded, letting him know that you were listening. Your fingers traced over the black metal of his arm, following the gold pattern. “I… I couldn’t move,” he whispered. “Steve found me before the agents did, but he had to drag me out. I was a wreck.” “Oh, Honey,” you whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “You can’t control that.” After a beat or two of silence, you tapped your fingers on his undershirt. “Can I take this off?” He nodded, wincing as he lifted his arms and you pulled the soiled cloth over his head. It went into the pile on the floor next to him. His wounds weren’t deep, but a good enough to cause some discomfort. Even for a super soldier. “The worst thing is,” he licked his dry lips. “I don’t remember any of it, all I remember is walking into the compound.” “Do you want to talk to Cho?” You asked, pushing the pile of clothes farther away from you. There’s an odor rising into the air and you want it as far away from you as possible. “I don’t know,” he admitted, letting his shoulders drop. “I don’t know if I want to remember it or not.” “It could be for the best,” you suggested. “Just another memory I won’t remember,” he shook his head. “Hey,” you said sternly, making him look at you. “Be positive, remember?” That was something different about you than any other Avenger, you forced him to look on the Brightside. When the darkness took over his mind, you reached in and turned on the light. “So, how did this happen?” You asked, reaching for the alcohol wipes and nodding to the gash in his ribs. “Fell out of a balcony.” “You fell out of a balcony?” As he told you the story, you cleaned out the worst of them. They’d heal up by tomorrow, but you wanted to make sure that they were clean before they sealed up. He hissed as you pressed the disinfectant to his side. The bleeding had stopped already but left a nasty gash. Your touch was gentle, washing away any anxiety he had about the mission or memories conjured up by the inky darkness of the HYDRA compound. He loved you but hadn’t told you that yet. He loved the way your hair fell in your face when you cleaned him up, he loved the way you didn’t treat him like glass and he loved the way you fit in his arms in the cover of the night. “Bucky?” You smiled, staring at him expectantly and he realized you had asked a question. “Sorry, what?” He blinked. You smiled patiently, brushing your thumb over his cheek softly. “I asked if there was anything else I need to worry about.” “Well other than sharing a bed with an unstable assassin, I think that’s about it,” his lips curled up in a hint of a smile. “Well, whoever this unstable assassin is, should shower before going to bed,” you teased, pecking his lips softly. Now, he fully smiled, and it always made your heart flutter. You washed your hands before leaving him to shower, he always liked to shower by himself, especially after sour missions. You laid out a set of clean clothes for him on the counter and tip-toed out of the room back to bed. The shower shut off just as you were lifting the covers. Bucky came back to you, sliding under the covers, smelling like your body wash and shampoo. He tugged you into his arms, pressing his face into your hair. “I missed you,” you murmured into his chest. Three weeks was long enough. “I missed you too,” he whispered. You could tell how exhausted he was, so you pulled the covers up around each other and hit play on the remote. He sank into the pillows, a familiar look in his eyes from the guilt gnawing away. He brushed the hair away from your face and shook his head. “I don’t think tonight is going to be a good night,” he whispered, tears filling his eyes. “That’s alright, Honey,” you told him honestly. “I’ll be here.” Those three words gave him enough strength to go through another night. They weren’t the ideal three words that every couple hoped for, but they meant a lot to him. It meant that you weren’t giving up on him. Even when just a few hours later, when he woke up with his hands clenched in the sheets and a clear sheen of sweat coating his skin; you didn’t give up. A cool set of hands of gentle hands found him in the darkness, calling out his name until he could force his eyes open. “I’m here,” you whispered. “Come back to me, Bucky.” And he always did.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #Avengers #avengers imagine #avengers x reader #Winter Soldier #winter soldier imagine

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akkermans · 4 years

Photo

( madelyn cline / cis woman ) PHILIPPA ‘PIP’ AKKERMANS is 22 years old and is a JUNIOR at thales university. SHE is majoring in JOURNALISM and is known for being THE DESPONDENT as SHE can be CURIOUS and INSIGHTFUL as well as SELF-PUNISHING and MOODY. every time i see HER, SHE reminds me of SMOKE RISING FROM A CIGARETTE, THE CRUNCH OF LEAVES UNDERFOOT, INCOHERENT SCRIBBLINGS IN A NOTEBOOK.

hi hello hi i’m hero, i’m 22, she/they and i live in the est tz! i’m a recentish graduate who likes horror, my cat, and a damn fine cup of coffee!! i’m so excited to be here w/ pip!! if u wld like to plot, give this a like or hmu on my discord @ ‘garlic bed #3345′!!

full name: philippa ‘pip’ akkermans

birthdate: june 24, 1998

age: 22

gender: cisgender woman

pronouns: she/her

zodiac: cancer

nationality: dutch-american

ethnicity: white

hometown: utrecht, the netherlands

languages: dutch, german, english

family:

julian akkermans, father

lotte de vries, stepmother

amelia akkermans, mother (deceased)

sophie akkermans, twin sister (deceased)

orientation: bisexual biromantic

religion: atheist (formerly catholic)

height: 5 ft 6 in

distinguishing features: thin scar from crown of head to right eyebrow, eyes, lips

character inspo: theo crain, alaska young, shane and ryan from buzzfeed unsolved, camille preaker

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃

TRIGGERS: death, car accident, alcohol and drug use, mental illness (depression, ptsd)

born in utrecht, the netherlands to a dutch father and american mother, pip akkermans’ life has been marked with tragedy since she was born. it seems to follow her. she was born five minutes before her twin sister, sophie, but as the two girls took their first breath, their mother took her last, leaving julian akkermans a single father.

growing up without a mother, pip and sophie found solace in each other, forming a bond akin to many twins, one so close, so dependent, it was like they were in their own little bubble. sophie was always the bright one, the one who walked into a room and immediately lit it up. pip was always the quieter of the two, her energy more dour, more withdrawn. but together they were a team, causing trouble left and right, getting out of it with sophie’s sweet smile.

their father was never the same after their mother died, but the coldness that possessed julian was all they’ve ever known. often times he was out of the house, unable to properly step up in the role of father to girls that were the spitting image of his lost love and the sole reason she’s gone. he drank. a lot. but he was never violent, simply sad.

he starts going out a lot, and eventually, brings home a woman that he says is going to become their step mother. a wedding quickly ensues. there’s a meanness in her, a clear disdain for the twins. but they don’t care, they don’t need to. they have each other. they’ll always have each other.

they’re fourteen and visiting amsterdam for the weekend when their car is hit head on by another, there’s enough momentum to flip them twice. the driver and pip are fine, minor injuries, but sophie passes away before anyone arrives, her hand in her sister’s as she takes her last breath.

pip is distraught, and for obvious reasons, she’s lost the better part of herself, even though she promised she wouldn’t go away. if her dad is heartbroken, he doesn’t show it. he simply continues to pull away. eventually sending pip to live with her aunt in america, rhode island to be specific.

she doesn’t exactly adjust well, not only is she still reeling from the death of her sister, but she’s experiencing intense feelings of detachment and nightmares of sophie every night, among other symptoms. her aunt eventually takes her to a psychologist, where she’s eventually diagnosed with depression and ptsd.

thus begins her long journey into managing her mental health, her aunt showing a surprising amount of support. she wishes on some level, that she had always grown up with her, that her father sent them away when they were children, maybe she wouldn’t feel so alone. maybe sophie would still be here.

for the first year in america, she doesn’t quite have friends, because she prefers her usual solitude. but eventually, she finds her group of friends, within her soccer team, her clubs, anything to get her mind off of her old life.

she tries to be normal, she really does, but she knows something is off– she feels empty, all the time, and her medication makes her feel like a zombie. eventually she falls into a crowd that is prone to partying, drinking, smoking. she’s sneaking out most nights to join them at their spot.

her senior year, she spins out, has a very public breakdown, that ends up leading to her taking a leave of absence from school, and essentially once again, returning to pariah status.

she does manage to graduate and get into thales university, by sheer force and extracurriculars, where she begins majoring in journalism, because it’s always been something she’s interested in, having been a part of her school’s newspaper before, well, everything.

she meets nana in one of their gen eds, and they hit it off immediately. they’re practically inseparable for a few years, until there’s an incident of pip being caught in a compromising position with one of nana’s flings at the time (it wasn’t what it looked like) and before she has a chance to explain, they’re no longer speaking.

nana goes missing a few weeks afterwards, and the emptiness comes back, feeling guilty as if it was her fault. as if everything that has happened has been a result of knowing pip and her general trail of misery. she was going to apologize, too. she just never got the chance.

now with the death of steven, her curiosity is piqued, her journalistic instinct triggered by the mystery afoot, and focusing on that means she doesn’t have to think about herself, because by god, she does not want to think about herself.

TL;DR: pip and her twin sister, sophie, are born in utrecht, the netherlands– their mother dies when they’re born. their father withdraws, eventually remarrying a bitter woman. when pip and sophie are 14, they’re involved in an accident that takes sophie’s life, and leaves pip alone, a bit traumatized. she moves to america to live with her maternal aunt, and goes to high school there, until she essentially has a breakdown her senior year. she meets nana her first year of thales, and they’re inseparable until a misunderstanding a month or two before she disappeared. now with steven’s death, she’s using her journalism skills to investigate it all.

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

between the melancholy is a very bright girl. she’s always been rather inquisitive and observant, the quieter one of the akkermans twins. as she grows older, learns to live without her sister, learns to live alone, she grows into her own voice. she becomes someone unafraid to speak her mind, simply because she has nothing left to lose. she’s a bit dry, a bit sarcastic, and her humor can border morbid on occasion because she’s gotta laugh or else she’ll cry. she has a bit of trouble sticking her nose in places it shouldn’t be. she’s rather loyal, but it takes a lot for her to trust you– she trusted nana, and look where that got her. that being said, she has long bouts of depression, and detachment, which she’s been trying to manage for years now, but still, in the quiet moments, there’s a feeling the girl is rather– haunted.

𝐓𝐈𝐃𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐒

she has pretty good investigative skills! she works on the newspaper at the school, so she’s kind of all over the place

explores a lot, likes to wander because it clears her head, though it also means she’ll probably enter places she’s not usually allowed (i.e. abandoned buildings, etc.)

also a soccer player! she’s played soccer for a good amount of her life, except her senior year of high school when she withdrew, she’s debating quitting the team here though

has a slight dutch accent, it’s noticeable mostly on specific words

disaster bi….. disaster bisexual…. usually stumbles into relationships and they never last due to her own shortcomings

can’t drive fr shit never learned how, fr some… obvious reasons, has some anxiety getting

has a few tattoos! her first and favorite was two butterflies on her wrist for sophie

has two piercings in each ear, a daith piercing in her right, and a upper cartilege piercing on her left

doesn’t really talk about her sister, however, claims she sees her/feels her sometimes

a skeptical believer of ghosts and spirits, mostly likes the stories that comes with her

speaks to her father once every two years, their relationship is nonexistent

likes to have a beer every so often but doesn’t exactly party, if u do see her at parties she’s prob lounging on a couch chatting with someone who’s name she’ll never remember

lived on campus for the first two years but this year got her own apartment, has an esa, a two year old scottish fold named noodle

has an extensive collection of sweaters and cardigans

kind of an old lady……. just learning about tiktok now

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

partner in crime – the ryan to her shane, the trixie to her katya, maybe they’re not the best of friends but they get into a LOT of trouble together

the reason nana and her stopped talking – pretty much nana walked in on a situation and misread it entirely and her drama loving ass cut pip off until her disappearance

friends

former friends – pip pulls away a lot, she is the undoer in a lot of relationships… or maybe it was your muse….

roommates (2-3) – new girl-esque shenanigans to be had!

newspaper coworkers

soccer teammates

someone she’s been helping with a case

fwb (f/m/nb) – girl has got needs, and doesn’t always like to be alone so

exes (f/m/nb) – prob broke up because pip’s inability to ever truly connect to other’s… haha! or it could be on good terms, and they’re pals now

crush (f/m/nb) – either way, reciprocated or unreciprocated, but it’s weird and you’re both kinda hot?

people she has Hooked Up w/ and now it’s awkard (f/m/nb)

rivals, but are we?

only likes her because her cat – noodle rights, babey!

‘she accidentally stole your coffee order once, but hey, she’s pretty cool’ – prob bought u a new one after she drank a bit of it…. now you see each other around fondly

‘she stuck her nose in your business for the Scoop’

hate-to-love friendship – i want to k*ll you to hey you’re pretty alright but don’t tell anybody i said that

‘you sent her an anonymous tip, but she accidentally figured out it was you’

someone who gets her out of her shell – takes her to parties! out with friends!

anything in my wanted tag!

#pyrrhic.intro #intro.#death tw #car accident tw #alcohol use tw #drug use tw #ptsd tw #depression tw #blood tw #only because the watercolor on the graphic does look a lil like it

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chibisquirt · 4 years

Note

You don't have to answer, but if you wouldn't mind. What are some things you've learned about ADHD from Tumblr that are applicable to you, or others you may now? I've been reading more on it and how it manifests in girls/women and was curious when I read your rb on that post about Grammarly

I don’t mind at all! Fair warning: this is gonna be LONG.

I’m going to start by repeating something I mentioned in that post: I was diagnosed in third grade, which was over two decades ago. I had my diagnosis halfway through elementary school, much less high school and two rounds of college. So a lot of the old information about ADHD I learned as a young person, and those things are worth exploring, too.

Example: It’s not that I’m not listening, Mrs. Nock, it’s just that if I try to keep my hands still, then the only thing I will retain from the lesson will be keep your hands still and not the things you trying to teach, which are supposedly important!

(Mrs. Nock was the one who said to me, “I believe you believe you’re paying attention.” Yes, it’s been fifteen years. Yes, I’m still mad. If you can’t have basic respect for your students, don’t teach.)

I figured out half on my own, half because of the counselling that if I had a fidget tool that didn’t require words I would pay better attention than if I tried to sit still. (I still remember being mocked by my dad for fidgeting well after making that discovery, though. Apparently diagnoses should only inform compassion when they’re his.) On the same lines, I also figured out that music in the background wouldn’t work for me if it had words, and television is too distracting for me to use at all. (I have a friend, though, whose ADHD works the opposite way: he has difficulty focusing if there isn’t a television in the background. Yes, both are valid.)

So, the Classics:

I always had trouble with organization and cleaning, had trouble with schedules and calendars and managing my time. Those are the things they’ll warn you about, the things they’ll tell you in counselling are natural and normal things for people with ADHD to have trouble with. Trouble paying attention, sure. Trouble sitting still. Procrastination. Got it.

But if you turn those traits around and re-frame them, they become a new set of symptoms. Adaptations for these new symptoms are more personal and universally applicable in my life, and therefore, to my mind, more useful.

Take Procrastination. (No really: please take it.) That just means “putting it off until tomorrow,” and there are lots of reasons to do it: “don’t have the tool I need” is one of the biggies, “want to conserve steps” trips me up a lot, “I still have time to get to it” is HUGE for me... But a lot of times, these are just superficial reasons. The re-framed symptom is, Trouble making yourself do things you don’t want to do.

ADHD is an executive function disorder. That’s a phrase I first learned on Tumblr, by the way; it may have been mentioned by one of my earlier counsellors, but it definitely wasn’t taught.

This is why soooo many of us have struggled with the perception (including self-perception) that we’re lazy! But no one tells the kid in the wheelchair he’s just lazy for not playing basketball. (Okay, they totally do. People are terrible. Ignore that, stick to the point.) I reframe this the way I do because acknowledging this as a symptom, taking the blame out of it, makes it easier to find adaptation.

Now, this is a personal post. YMMV. But I have an easier time managing my conduct if, instead of calling myself lazy a procrastinator, I say, “I keep not doing that --> oh it’s because I Don’t Wanna --> how can I con myself into doing it?” (Strategies include bargaining, making it easier, powering through but then allowing yourself to stop afterwards, just acknowledging that I Don’t Wanna and allowing that to be valid...) Procrastination is an action, but “executive function disorder” is a disease and “I Don’t Wanna” is its trigger, just as much as an allergy and a clump of ragweed are. “Procrastination” is a powerful sphynx against which I’m helpless, but “I Don’t Wanna Disease” lets me start cultivating my metaphorical catnip and researching the answers to common riddles.

And while we’re talking about procrastination--and trouble with deadlines, and schedules in general--let’s talk about Time Insensitivity. Missed deadlines and perpetual lateness (perpetual) are external actions, just like procrastination, and they can have all sorts of explanations.

(Shoutout to Mrs. Pollack, who looked around a classroom containing thirteen-year-old me, and, knowing full well that I was chronically tardy, declared that “anybody who’s always running late, deep down, they just doesn’t care about anybody else’s time.” Great job with calling the thirteen-year-old a heartless bitch, Mrs. Pollack! As you can tell, I definitely forgot it very quickly, and didn’t at all have a self-critical breakdown about it, periodically revisiting the question of my own inherent selfishness for years!!!)

But ignoring the external actions, let’s take a compassionate look inside the head again. Executive function includes regulation of, and awareness of the passing of, time. Again: you can’t play the basketball with no legs. We literally do not realize what time is doing. Sometimes we do--if we devote enough of our attention to it, which may be a large amount for some, a small amount for others, or a variable amount for the same person. But our brains literally don’t process it the same way.

But hold on a minute--let’s go back to that analogy. Because actually, people with no legs can play basketball! It’s just that you have to use the adaptation of wheelchairs to do it--and that’s an adaptation for the game and for the players.

I use alarms. I’ve recently seen a post about audio memos as alarms. There are people who just slap clocks everywhere. When I was forced to work in a kitchen with no clocks, I used the multi-setting timer and set it for like four hours so I would know if I was keeping on schedule. I also chose a job environment where much of my shift is the same as itself, and rigid punctuality isn’t enforced--that’s adapting my environment, instead of myself. There’s all kinds of adaptations. But you have to know you have the condition before you can compensate for it.

Here’s a fun little story: when I was... oh, eleven? Twelve? My Quaker Meeting’s youth group (#7 whitest phrase I’ve ever written) went to the museum together. One of the stops was in the children’s section, there was a... a pegboard, I think? With some kind of problem on it. A puzzle. Me and a couple others sat down at it, and it took me a while, but eventually I solved it, and I looked up.

I blinked. “Where is everybody?” I said.

“They left,” said my mom. “Half an hour ago.”

I was stunned. “Half an hour ago?! But I couldn’t’ve spent more than ten minutes on this!”

“I promise you, it was half an hour.”

“Why didn’t you call me?? Why didn’t you say my name?”

“We did. Several times.”

To this day, I will swear myself blind that I never heard a thing.

Hyperfocusing. They’ll tell you about the problems focusing; oh yes. They’ll tell you allll about that one. But they won’t tell you about the flip side of it. They won’t tell you about the times when the rest of the world falls away, and the only two things in the world are you and whatever problem you’re trying to solve.

D’y’know what, I bet that’s the reason I test well. I just realized this now, phrasing it like that, but--I’ve always tested well, even when my actual practical applications of things are mediocre I do well with the classroom testing on it. I scored a 39 on the MCAT, back when it was out of 45 and not whatever it is now. (To those with the plain good sense not to want to be doctors: that’s pretty good.) And I just bet it’s because, once I get focused on solving the problems, the other problems--nerves, intrusive thoughts, anxiety--just don’t have room to get in. Hyperfocusing can be a superpower, if you can harness it.

But it can also blind you to everything else. And it works in smaller ways, too: once I think I understand something, it is very difficult for me to perceive information that contradicts that understanding. I still get the map of the Elflands backwards every time I read The Goblin Emperor, just because I pictured it one way, and every indication in the text that it was the other way just fell on deaf ears.

And this one leads right into the next, which is Rejection Sensitivity Disorder. RSD is hyperfocus, but it’s hyperfocus on how everyone must hate you. It’s delightful! I’ve been diagnosed with anxiety and depression, as well, and I do have both of those things, but for my money, I think that this one symptom of ADHD--which no doctor has ever even mentioned to me--has hurt me more than both of those conditions combined.

The last one I’m going to bring up is Auditory Processing Disorder. Now, I’ve gone and gotten re-diagnosed twice in my life, and the last time was just a few years ago, so they actually used this one in the test. The psychologist told me about it, she just didn’t use the phrase Auditory Processing Disorder, and she didn’t tell me that it was its own symptom--she just used it for the test.

What she did was, she gave me two hearing tests, one to test whether or not I could hear, and then the other a list of words that all sounded alike, and I had to mark which one I was hearing. The second part of that was very long, and very boring, and despite scoring perfectly on the first test, I got several wrong on the second. I was actually surprised by that; I at no point suspected I had heard any of them wrong. When she gave me the test, told me this was proof by contradiction, that we were ruling out hearing loss as an alternative explanation for my difficulties. It was only after the test was done that she explained that the pattern I showed was actually part of the diagnosis of ADHD; that we get bored, and stop really paying attention, and that we don’t even know we’re doing it.

...Okay, but you couldn’t have mentioned the part where I also do that every day in real life, lady?!?! It’s not just when we’re bored, it’s not just for long processes. I do this all the time. I actually tell people now that “I actually have a neurological condition that makes it hard for me to hear; I can tell that you’re speaking, but I can’t tell what you’re saying.”

This is 100% true. It is a neurological condition.

We label this a condition, but as a society, we don’t treat it that way. Society treats it as yet another excuse. It’s not. You’re not lazy, stupid or crazy. Neither am I.

I have a condition. Acknowledging that is the first step of treatment. Not five thousand sticky notes, not binders or filing systems or even taking all the doors off the cupboards (although I definitely plan to do that one as soon as I possibly can). Not counselling sessions with so many different people I can’t even name them all, for the love of god please understand that you can’t just fix it with pills.

(Although mad props to the people who thought Concerta would magically solve me at the age of nine! Spoiler alert: it did not do that! But it did mean that my parents felt comfortable blaming me for all my failures again, so it did at least some of what it was designed for, I guess. :) )

I have spent the last few years re-understanding my ADHD it as is: a neurological condition, a disability, and a simple fact of life. A starting place, instead of yet more proof of my own inherent insufficiency. And you know what? When you take the blame and self-hatred out of the diagnosis--when you stop cursing it as the cause of all your problems and start trying to work with it, instead--it gets a lot easier to manage.

#laexploradoraaa

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mediocrevideopodcast · 4 years

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Hi there!! For the matchup if I may! I'm a straight female, introverted, INFP. I spend all my time listening to Lo-fi music or scary stories on Youtube while I work on my art or writing. I have a lot of anxiety issues and depression and have panic attacks relatively often.

I hope that's enough information about me!

I match you with...

Raphael!! My first thought was Donatello, although I ended up settling on Raph. His happy and extroverted nature is great at combatting symptoms of depression. Whenever you’re having trouble getting out of bed, showering, eating, etc. He’ll be right there to help. He won’t force you to do anything you can’t do, either. If it’s one of those days, he’ll be right there with a mug of tea that looks just a little too small in his hands. It’s cute, really. He’s also great with managing panic attacks! One would think he would choke under the pressure, but he’s had a lot of practice with his brothers. His responses are automatic, at this point. He’s great at sitting patiently, waiting for your okay to touch or hold you. His “gentle voice” is actually really, really calming. He super digs the Lo-Fi as well. You don’t have to wear headphones around him: he’s more than happy to chill out too! (He really likes Jazz Hop Cafe, although he’ll listen to pretty much anything.) He’ll listen to the scary stories too, but you might have to hold his hand afterwards! If it’s the true ones, they don’t scare him as much. He’s never gonna be able to use Craigslist anyways, so who cares if someone tries to lure him in and kill him? He can just beat ‘em up anyways. Creepypastas & the paranormal though? He can’t punch ghosts!!! (He’s still gonna listen to em anyways.) He’s also your number one supporter with everything you do!! He’s not a great beta reader or art critic, but he knows he likes it! He always reblogs your stuff. <3 He also likes to lay down next to you while you work! He thinks the vibes are nice. He also loves how you look when you’re focused. - Loves to carry you around. Whenever you go somewhere in the hidden city, he’ll put you up on his shoulders. Not only do you get a good view, but you’re also put above the crowd! Considering how tall some of the yokai are, it’s actually not even a weird sight. - He’s not a great cook, but he makes good drinks! His coffee and tea are supernaturally good, and you have no idea how he does it. He also has your favorite brands and flavors memorized. - Loves learning about the things you’re interested in! Into a new show? He’s there to binge it with you! New game? He’ll look up some playthroughs so he can get into it too! Movies? He has trouble sitting through them if they aren’t animated/Jupiter Jim, but he’ll do his best!! Worst comes to worst, he’ll split it into parts so he can digest it easier. He loves to hear you talk about the things that make you happy <3 - Advice king. He’s always here to listen to what’s troubling you, and he gives really good advice on overcoming it! - Always asks if it’s a punchable problem. You can never tell if he’s joking or not, but either way, it’s funny. - Definitely tries to get you out of the lair a little bit. You don’t have to do anything crazy, but he’s definitely for “out-on-the-town” dates. - Whenever you guys go to Run of the Mill he always asks for those kid’s mats and crayons. He just wants to see what you can do with the tiny crayons. He always gets you to laugh about it. - (The next time you come in, you see the doodles hung up in the Kid’s Art section. Apparently not many yokai kids can keep their papers in one piece, so having a drawing make it is a bit of a rarity. Hueso REFUSES to tell anyone an adult drew it: He needs a paper up there, damn it. It becomes an inside joke between you and Raph.) - Cuddle king. <3 - Honestly, he’s just really supportive. He’ll always be there for you, no matter what.

Also everyone go check out her blog!! Her art & writing is actually god-tier <3

#lissa-bugg #matchups #I LOVE UR BLOG SMMMMMMMMMM I HOPE THIS WAS OKAY <3

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jmsebastian · 4 years

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Why I Hope The Future of Castlevania (if There is One) Remembers Lords of Shadow

Some time ago I wrote about the two DLC chapters for Castlevania: Lords of Shadow and why you probably don’t want to play them. Those chapters are extremely disappointing and not representative of the game as a whole. As such, I always meant to write about the main game, but found it difficult to focus on something specific. Straight out reviews can be fun, but this is a big budget popular game we’re talking about. There are tons of reviews out there for it already. Instead, I want to talk about why the first installment of the series is still monumentally important to the franchise as a whole and why there are more lessons to learn from it for any future installments than there are to be learned from any other game in the series.

For any who don’t know, Lords of Shadow acts as a complete series reset. Several little elements from the original canon, if you can call it that, make their way into the game, though often in very different form. As I don’t get hung up about continuity or canon, this was an obvious good choice. It allowed MercurySteam and the folks at Konami to incorporate the things they liked about Castlevania without having the constraints of finding space within a pre-existing history. And like so many reboots, the story they chose was an origin story, both of the Belmonts and the series constant antagonist, Dracula.

Essentially, Lords of Shadow chronicles the birth of Dracula by way of the game protagonist, Gabriel Belmont. Unable to overcome the grief from the death of his wife, Marie, whom he killed while under the influence of belated antagonist, Zobek, Gabriel acquires incredible power and defeats Satan. Even after declaring to believe in forgiveness and receiving the forgiveness he so desperately seeks from his wife, Gabriel still descends into despair. We learn at the very end of the game that he’s forsaken humanity and become Dracula.

As the Lords of Shadow series broke away from the previous Castlevania timeline, so should a new 3D Castlevania game break away from the Lords of Shadow timeline. The poor reception to Lords of Shadow 2 killed that series and there is no point trying to bring it back. I’m certainly not eager to see a new origin story, but there’s no reason to think a new game would need to start at the beginning. Just as the original NES Castlevania started centuries after the first Belmont took up arms against the vampire lord, so too could a new title start at any point along a new timeline.

As large a departure from the source material as Lords of Shadow’s story was, the way it plays departed even further. Granted, none of the 3D entries truly capture the spirit of the 2D entries simply due to the nature of moving in 3D space. Castlevania and Legacy of Darkness for the Nintendo 64 adhered the closest, while Lament of Innocence and Curse of Darkness for the PlayStation 2 ventured more into brawler territory.

Lords of Shadow is heavy on the platforming, but rather than trying to time a perfect leap over a pit and Medusa head, you instead shimmy across ledges and use your whip to swing across gaps and repel down walls. It’s much more akin to how platforming works in a game like Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time or the rebooted Tomb Raider series. This allowed the game to showcase its art direction very specifically. Since the game controls the camera at all times, they could position you exactly how they wanted to give you pause at majestic waterfalls in the background, or exaggerate the sense of scale against towering bosses.

While I prefer camera control to rest with the player, there is something to be said for the framing that a game controlled camera allows for.

While I love the more ridiculous and difficult platforming of the Nintendo 64 games, there is a steep learning curve to it. On top of that, the hallmark problems of 3D platforming (issues with camera position and depth of field) have never really been solved. The negative impact of the symptoms may have been lessened over the years, but the core issues remain. That means you have essentially have to choose where to focus your game. Do you put your effort into making your platforming as excellent as challenging as rewarding as possible, or do you focus on the action elements?

Lords of Shadow focused largely on the action. The game is most satisfying when you have small groups of weaker enemies to tear through with your favorite combat techniques, or more difficult single enemies where you have to learn their patterns so you can time your dodges and blocks effectively. The only real complaint about the combat system is that many of the techniques that you can learn feel frivolous. Upgrading a handful of the basic ones is more than enough to get you through and it’s quite difficult to remember the numerous button combinations needed for each new technique you learn. It’s easy enough to use two or three that you know well and ignore everything else.

The more interesting aspect of combat are the various relic powers. These add holy or demonic magic properties to your techniques depending on which type of magic you have activated. I prefer these types of upgrades because they don’t require you to memorize a new set of commands for a marginal benefit. They simply amplify the effectiveness of certain techniques, and push you toward using certain ones. Having more of these that you could select from would have been a nice way to round out the combat without further complicating it. This is something I’d prefer to be lifted from the game rather than the basic combat elements. After all, there are other action games like Devil May Cry or Bayonetta that serve as better combat templates than Lords of Shadow.

The outstanding question you may be asking is “why make a 3D Castlevania game at all?”. It’s a fair question. The games from the series that have really stood the test of time are those in 2D. The legacy of the classic NES titles and the Igavania titles is well-respected and lives on through an abundance of games that took inspiration for a reason. Igarashi himself managed to put together a spiritual successor to both Symphony of the Night and Dracula’s Curse, cementing that legacy for a long time to come. There is no such legacy for the 3D entries.

As much as I adore the quirks and charm of the 3D entries in the series, I’d be lying to myself if I said any of them were truly outstanding. Lords of Shadow may have come close, but its shortcomings are too numerous and the legacy of the series as a whole tarnishes even the brightest elements. Castlevania deserves a truly outstanding 3D game. The opportunity for it is there, so long as whoever makes it learns the lessons of how and why games like Lords of Shadow fall just short.

#Castlevania #Lords of Shadow #konami #bayonetta #devil may cry

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introvert-no-chameleon · 4 years

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Chapter 2: Monstrous Consequences

I almost forgot to put the text version on Tumblr!

Here’s chapter 2 of Of Monsters and McGuckets. The next chapter will probably be a big one, since I have a better idea where the story is going now, so it might take longer than just a couple of days for me to write and edit.

Don’t worry, folks. I fully plan on seeing this fic through.

Chapter 1 on Tumblr, if you don’t use/like Archive of Our Own.

Fiddleford usually made a point to ignore the way the Pines brothers acted on the rare occasions where they all shared a meal, despite the offense it was to his Southern upbringing. His Ma would’ve slapped him across the head if he didn’t chew with his mouth closed or say grace before every meal (a habit he kept even long after he stopped going to church).

He’d hate to imagine what she’d do if he ever ate like his two housemates. Stanley paid as much mind to table manners as he did the law, which was none. Sometimes he’d chew with his mouth open just to tick Fiddleford off, and even go as far as putting his muddy boots on the table if he really wanted to get a rise out of his boyfriend. On the other end of the spectrum sat Stanford, who either inhaled his food in a hurry to get back to his research or left it on his plate until it got too cold to eat while he made field notes.

Yet even those memories were not nearly as bad as the scene unfolding in front of him. Stanford had his paws splayed on the table, his face shoved on to his plate. Egg and grease smeared all over his mouth, and Stanford didn’t seem to notice. The silverware lay unused next to Stanford’s plate, jingling whenever he shifted to get a better angle.

Fiddleford held the edge of the table in a death grip to prevent his employer from tipping it over, and only for that reason. It certainly wasn’t because he was getting very uncomfortable staring at those large, powerful jaws rip into his bacon with a growl, while he held it in place with one paw, like a lion would, he imagined, tear into a dead gazelle. Nor did it have anything to do with the earlier, far too casual comment about Stanford wanting to maul things.

Not at all. If Fiddleford happened to take a big gulp of coffee that felt like tar coming down his throat, that was just because of something else.

He took a chance to see how Stanley was doing. His boyfriend poked at his food with the edge of a claw, and Fiddleford wondered if he could even eat, or if he needed to in this form. Just as he meant to ask, Stan chewed his bacon, shrugged, tipped the contents inside his mouth, and swallowed his entire breakfast and the ceramic plate with a loud crunch. And burped afterward.

Fiddleford quietly sipped the rest of his coffee for the remainder of the meal and made a note to avoid eating with them until they got turned back to normal.

After the ordeal that was breakfast, they finally began retracing their steps to the lake. The woods in Gravity Falls managed to have an underlying, buzzing energy to it. It felt as if everything, even the trees themselves, were teeming with life, a fact that used to fill Fiddleford with wonderment. However, as he became aware of the fact that not everything in the forest was as keen as respecting sentient life as he was, that excitement got replaced by the kind of dread that settled heavy on his shoulders and wouldn't be shaken off until he was back in the safety of their home.

Stanford was excitedly talking about the notes he’d just made as they walked. Even with his ever-present anxiety, Fiddleford still found himself listening to what little they knew of their most recent discovery.

“I’ve decided to call the mysterious liquid in the lake Fluvius Cantatis,” said Stanford, ducking under a branch. “Judging by the fact that I saw a few deer drink from the lake and suffer no outward symptoms, I’m guessing the water only affects humans.”

Stanley walked right through the branch, snapping it by just walking into it. The man didn’t flinch. Heck, Fiddleford would be surprised if he’d noticed it.

“That’s mighty interestin’,” said Fiddleford. “Perhaps the water’s been enchanted? Or…cursed?” He shuddered at the thought. If exploring Gravity Falls had taught him anything, it was that curses were stubborn, tricky things that weren’t dealt with so easily.

“Both are a possibility,” said Stanford, nonplussed. “If it was, indeed, enchanted, then there’s a good chance that we may be able to figure it out with some study. I’ve learned a few spells from the walls of that cavern we explored while finding Mothman, so it may help us get back to normal.”

“I sure hope so,” said Fiddleford. “There ain’t no tellin’ what might happen if ya stay like this too long.”

“Yeah, like how I’m going to use the toilet when I’m a giant rock,” said Stanley with a smirk.

Stanford rolled his eyes and continued forward.

“Don’t be crude, Stanley,” said Fiddleford.

The gargoyle shrugged. “Just tryin’ to lighten the mood.” He noticed Fiddleford adjust his backpack for the third time in the last minute. “You, uh, need help there, Fidds?”

“If yer careful,” he said, placing the heavy bag on the ground. Now that he was free of the weight, his shoulders began to ache something awful. Fiddleford cracked his back as he straightened up, groaning. For the fourth time that week, he thought about finally getting around to making that appointment with the town chiropractor.

“Jeez, what’re you carrying in this thing?” Stanley picked up the pack and flipped the top open.

Inside were two pairs of thick rubber gloves, a few beakers wrapped in bubble wrap, metal tongues, a thermometer, glass jars with lids and an entire hazmat suit that Stanley had “borrowed” from some godforsaken government facility one night he and Stanford had gotten while drunk out of their minds. (Those were the only details he'd been given in regards to what went down that night, and after careful consideration, Fiddleford decided that it was probably for the best that it stayed that way).

Stanley raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “A bit much, dontcha think?”

Fiddleford huffed. “One of us has to be careful. That lake don’t sit right with me, an’ it’s better if one of us isn’t affected by whatever yer afflictions are.”

Stanley swung the backpack over one shoulder. “Relax, I’m pretty sure ya gotta bathe in this stuff for it to do anything. Me an’ Ford jumped right into it.”

“We don’t know that,” said Fiddleford. “An’ I don’t want to take any chances.”

Stanley cast a glance at his brother, who was walking ahead of them, focusing on re-discovering the path they’d went on yesterday. He put a hand on Fiddleford’s shoulder. Even with Stanley being as gentle as could be, the weight of his hand felt crushing. He sucked in a breath.

“Sorry! Shit, I didn’t mean—”

“I-it’s okay. Yer just stronger than usual, s’all.”

Stanley’s joints made a grinding sound as he retracted his hand and let it fall by his side. He cleared his throat. “Look, I’m right here whatever happens, alright? And uh,” He cleared his throat. “If Ford gets carried away, just let me know and I’ll wrestle him back to the shack with us if I haveta.”

“I-I may frighten easy, but there’s no need to be tip-toeing around me as if I’m some sorta newborn kitten.” He forced himself to fake what he’d hoped looked like a reassuring smile.

Stanley frowned, and Fiddleford didn’t need a magic spell to know that the man disagreed. “Look, Fidds. I guess we haven’t really talked about this, an’ this might not be the best place to have this conversation, but…I can’t help but notice you’ve been more on edge lately.”

The way he said those things made the Southern man bristle. He crossed his arms. “I don’t follow.” Fiddleford’s tone was about as inviting as a grizzly bear in a picnic. “Whatever happened to me bein’ more assertive?”

“Hey, I meant that. But…” Stan rubbed the back of his neck. The friction made a grinding sound that only served to worsen Fiddleford’s nerves. “Fidds. Come on. You jump outta your seat if you so much as see a gnome—”

“Those little devils kidnapped me, if ya haven’t forgotten!”

Stanley winced, probably remembering the “Gnome Incident”, as they all called it. It was a sore subject for Fiddleford. Not only did he get mistaken for a woman, but he also ended up getting dragged halfway through the forest by an army of small but astonishingly strong men while tied up like a hog. When Stanley and Stanford came to help after at least a half-hour of humiliation, they’d gotten so many bite marks and bruises from the whole rescue mission that they’d almost considered going to the hospital. The remaining shred of their dignities had been the only reason they hadn’t.

As if that all hadn’t been bad enough, the ropes had left some nasty cuts on Fiddleford’s wrists and ankles. It took weeks for them to heal, and to this day Stanley would still punt away any gnomes that were unfortunate enough to be in Fiddleford’s vicinity.

“Yeah, that’s my point. You’ve just been more jumpy, and…” Stanley seemed to be struggling to get the words out of his mouth. He was squirming where he stood.

In other circumstances, Fiddleford wouldn’t have given him such a hard time. Stan was being more open with his emotions, and that wasn’t easy for him. The young scientist just wished it hadn’t been this particular subject he’d decided to be open about. “An’ what?”

“Look, I’m getting’ kinda worried. You looked like you were about to have a heart attack this mornin’ when we came to the shack.”

Fiddleford set his jaw. “Is that what this mornin’ was? Ya thought that I’d still have my tail stuck between mah legs even after I knew it was you?” He hadn’t expected his anxiety to be so obvious, and now that he knew it was, it was like having someone tear his clothes off in the middle of the town. “Well, excuse me for exercisin’ some caution!”

Stan raised his hands at him, defensively. “Hey, that ain’t what I meant.”

Fiddleford squared his shoulders. “You think that just ‘cause I’m not as well-adjusted to this town’s strangeness as the two of ya, I should just stay inside and have my nose in a book or tinkerin’ away while ya and yer brother do all the dangerous work!”

In actuality, the thought of him doing just that appealed to him greatly, but he wasn’t about to admit that. “I’ll have ya know, I’m an inventor! I’ve made things that could fry a man in two flicks of a lamb’s tail!”

Stanley’s brows furrowed. “I have…no idea what that means.”

“It means, Stanley, that I ain’t some dainty thing that ya need to protect. I’m a grown man with a son of mine own, and I’m more than capable of lookin’ after myself!”

“Fidds, come on! Don’t be like that!”

But Fiddleford had stomped past Stanley, keeping his gaze straight ahead. He caught up with Stanford, who had just came across a couple of bushes that Fiddleford assumed concealed the entrance to the lake.

“Ah, perfect,” said Stanford, blissfully unaware of the tension between Fiddleford and Stanley (business as usual, then). “It’s right past here. Allow Stanley and I to go first. After all, we have already been exposed, and there’s—”

That was it. Fiddleford walked ahead, ignoring whatever was about to come out of Stanford’s mouth. Which was not, he quickly realized, an intelligent thing to do, as his next step sent him sliding down a steep dirt slope that had no business being there.

The twins called his name somewhere behind him, but it was too late. He was tumbling down, the world a blur of browns and greens. He inhaled some dirt and coughed in a vain attempt to clear his burning lungs. Just as he thought he’d be doing this forever, he splashed into a body of knee-deep water and stopped moving.

And now there he was, on his hands and knees, looking like a right fool, in front of his boss and boyfriend, no less. He sighed, bringing a shaky hand to his face, staring down at his reflection. The water had a strange purple hue. Wasn’t that just his luck that he wiped his face with water that had probably been contaminated or—

“Oh,” he said, staring at his palms. The skin began to tingle, glowing with a soft purple light. “Shit.”

A headache that felt as if the Devil Himself had just driven spikes into Fiddleford’s head had him doubling over. The pain was strongest on the left and right sides of his skull. His legs ached, and his feet felt numb. He watched with detached, morbid fascination as they broke through his shoes and got longer, until he was staring, slack-jawed at a set of rabbit feet. He wiggled the toes, his brain still struggling to process his new, horrifying reality.

The entire bottom half of him was part hare, tufts of chestnut brown fur poking out of the waistline of his now torn-up pants. He tried standing up, gasping as his head swung back, heavier than he’d ever remembered it being. He quickly held it in place with his (thank goodness!) human hands. Licking his lips, he brought his hands up to the top of his head. His fingers caressed what felt an awful lot like two large antlers, and a pair of rabbit ears.

A jackalope. He was a jackalope.

Of all the things, of all the mythological creatures in all of existence, he was a goddamn hare with antlers, because life had decided that Fiddleford McGucket hadn’t suffered enough today. The only solace he found was the fact that his face was still human, if the reflection of the lake was anything to go by, which was at least something. He’d probably drown himself right then and there if he had a rabbit nose or some other nonsense like that.

Fiddleford dragged himself out of the lake. The water didn’t drip or fall off his skin. Instead, his body seemed to absorb it. That wasn’t worrying at all.

“Fidds, are you okay? Shit, hold on, I’m almost there!”

Stanley skid down the slope and ran towards him. His wings were raised off the ground so he could run without tripping over them, and his eyes glowed more intensely than he’d seen them yet. Stanford wasn’t far behind, his wings occasionally flapping to help him keep his balance.

The usual sense of relief he’d get whenever Stanley came to his aid was, to his increasing concern, being overrun by something else. It was like somebody had flipped a switch inside of him, activating a strong, fight-or-flight instinct that Fiddleford couldn’t ignore even if he wanted to.

Suddenly, his mind didn’t see Stanley Pines, his beloved partner, and Stanford Pines, his good friend and employer. All he could take in were teeth and jaws and claws that could gut a creature like himself in seconds. This new instinct was worse than any panic attack he’d ever had, his throat tightening, his breathing labored, his head throbbing, seemingly taking over his own body, which began to move as if on its own accord.

He ran back in the woods, getting as far away from Stanley as his legs would carry him, which turned out to be incredibly far, incredibly fast. His heart thumped against his chest as he kept moving forward, crashing through bushes, any coherent thought was far gone, replaced with the need to get away now.

Had he been in his right mind, he’d have noticed Stanley’s big, heartbroken eyes on his back until he was out of sight, swallowed up by Gravity Falls’ forest.

Stanford caught up to Stanley just as the latter watched his boyfriend run into the forest at a pace that would almost put Stan’s car to shame. He’d barely seen what Fiddleford had turned into after falling into the lake, but whatever it was looked like some weird bunny-thing that probably had little to no way to defend itself. Well, he guessed running like hell was a damn good way to defend oneself. Couldn’t argue with the results.

“Great.” Stanley held his head. “Just fuckin’ peachy.”

“That could have gone better,” said Stanford.

“You decide to become Captain Obvious today or somethin’?” snapped Stanley. He gestured towards the direction Fiddleford went. “How the fuck are we gonna find him?”

“Calm down, Stan. I have a plan.” Ford pushed his glasses up his nose. “Do you remember those microchips that Fiddleford made?”

Stanley stared at his brother as if he’d just started speaking another language. “Sixer, this ain’t time for your nerd talk, Fidds could get eaten by a mountain lion or bear if we don’t do somethin’!”

Ford glared at him. “This is why I’m bringing it up. Fiddleford it to help us track each other in the case that one of us gets abducted again.” Ford rummaged through the knapsack he always brought with him and pulled out a clunky metal remote with a glass screen. He turned it on. “Aha!”

“What?”

“It’s working magnificently! Fiddleford will be pleased to know that the remote has no problems picking up his signal.”

Stan loved his brother, he really did, but it was shit like his brother managing to be excited about some science gizmo while his friend was hopping around the woods in a panic that really tested his patience. “Yeah, I’m sure he’d also love to be alive to talk about it, so why don’t ya shut yer yap for five seconds so we can get him?”

Ford huffed. He stared back down at the screen. “He’s going towards the middle of the forest, so at least he isn’t near any caves.” He stopped talking, eyes widening. “We need to move. He’s coming across Manotaur territory.”

Stanley swore. “Then let’s go already!”

“Stan, you’re slower like this. You should let me—”

“Oh, hell no, Pointdexter. I’m not waitin’ here while you go off after him. He’s gonna freak out if he sees you alone.”

Ford opened his mouth, saw the expression that Stan had on his face, and let whatever stupid thing he was going to tell Stan, die. “Fine but try not to lose me. I’m going to have to…” He sighed. “Run on four legs.”

Even in his state of mind, Stanley couldn’t resist grinning. “Maybe this situation isn’t all bad.”

Ford took off his boot and threw it at his brother. It bounced off him. Stan didn’t even feel it.

“Fiddleford better be grateful for this,” muttered Ford as he freed himself of his other shoe and began to—there was no other word for it—gallop in the direction Fiddleford went.

Filing the mental image of his brother running around like a giant housecat for later, Stan lumbered behind him. He was determined to keep up, not wanting to waste more time.

#of monsters and mcguckets #fiddlestan #mystery trio #mystery trio au #monster falls #fiddleford hadron mcgucket #fiddleford mcgucket #young fiddleford #young stanley pines #young stanford pines #young stan bros #gargoyle!stan #sphinx!ford #jackalope!fiddleford #archive of our own #my writing

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