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transgenderteensurvivalguide · 3 years

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“Elliot Page doesn’t remember exactly how long he had been asking.

But he does remember the acute feeling of triumph when, around age 9, he was finally allowed to cut his hair short. “I felt like a boy,” Page says. “I wanted to be a boy. I would ask my mom if I could be someday.” Growing up in Halifax, Nova Scotia, Page visualized himself as a boy in imaginary games, freed from the discomfort of how other people saw him: as a girl. After the haircut, strangers finally started perceiving him the way he saw himself, and it felt both right and exciting.

The joy was short-lived. Months later, Page got his first break, landing a part as a daughter in a Canadian mining family in the TV movie Pit Pony. He wore a wig for the film, and when Pit Pony became a TV show, he grew his hair out again. “I became a professional actor at the age of 10,” Page says. And pursuing that passion came with a difficult compromise. “Of course I had to look a certain way.”

We are speaking in late February. It is the first interview Page, 34, has given since disclosing in December that he is transgender, in a heartfelt letter posted to Instagram, and he is crying before I have even uttered a question. “Sorry, I’m going to be emotional, but that’s cool, right?” he says, smiling through his tears.

It’s hard for him to talk about the days that led up to that disclosure. When I ask how he was feeling, he looks away, his neck exposed by a new short haircut. After a pause, he presses his hand to his heart and closes his eyes. “This feeling of true excitement and deep gratitude to have made it to this point in my life,” he says, “mixed with a lot of fear and anxiety.”

It’s not hard to understand why a trans person would be dealing with conflicting feelings in this moment. Increased social acceptance has led to more young people describing themselves as trans—1.8% of Gen Z compared with 0.2% of boomers, according to a recent Gallup poll—yet this has fueled conservatives who are stoking fears about a “transgender craze.” President Joe Biden has restored the right of transgender military members to serve openly, and in Hollywood, trans people have never had more meaningful time onscreen. Meanwhile, J.K. Rowling is leveraging her cultural capital to oppose transgender equality in the name of feminism, and lawmakers are arguing in the halls of Congress over the validity of gender identities. “Sex has become a political football in the culture wars,” says Chase Strangio, deputy director for transgender justice at the ACLU.

(Full article with photos continued under the “read more”)

And so Page—who charmed America as a precocious pregnant teenager in Juno, constructed dreamscapes in Inception and now stars in Netflix’s hit superhero show The Umbrella Academy, the third season of which he’s filming in Toronto—expected that his news would be met with both applause and vitriol. “What I was anticipating was a lot of support and love and a massive amount of hatred and transphobia,” says Page. “That’s essentially what happened.” What he did not anticipate was just how big this story would be. Page’s announcement, which made him one of the most famous out trans people in the world, started trending on Twitter in more than 20 countries. He gained more than 400,000 new followers on Instagram on that day alone. Thousands of articles were published. Likes and shares reached the millions. Right-wing podcasters readied their rhetoric about “women in men’s locker rooms.” Casting directors reached out to Page’s manager saying it would be an honor to cast Page in their next big movie.

So, it was a lot. Over the course of two conversations, Page will say that understanding himself in all the specifics remains a work in progress. Fathoming one’s gender, an identity innate and performed, personal and social, fixed and evolving, is complicated enough without being under a spotlight that never seems to turn off. But having arrived at a critical juncture, Page feels a deep sense of responsibility to share his truth. “Extremely influential people are spreading these myths and damaging rhetoric—every day you’re seeing our existence debated,” Page says. “Transgender people are so very real.”

That role in Pit Pony led to other productions and eventually, when Page was 16, to a film called Mouth to Mouth. Playing a young anarchist, Page had a chance to cut his hair again. This time, he shaved it off completely. The kids at his high school teased him, but in photos he has posted from that time on social media he looks at ease. Page’s head was still shaved when he mailed in an audition tape for the 2005 thriller Hard Candy. The people in charge of casting asked him to audition again in a wig. Soon, the hair was back.

Page’s tour de force performance in Hard Candy led, two years later, to Juno, a low-budget indie film that brought Page Oscar, BAFTA and Golden Globe nominations and sudden megafame. The actor, then 21, struggled with the stresses of that ascension. The endless primping, red carpets and magazine spreads were all agonizing reminders of the disconnect between how the world saw Page and who he knew himself to be. “I just never recognized myself,” Page says. “For a long time I could not even look at a photo of myself.” It was difficult to watch the movies too, especially ones in which he played more feminine roles.

Page loved making movies, but he also felt alienated by Hollywood and its standards. Alia Shawkat, a close friend and co-star in 2009’s Whip It,describes all the attention from Juno as scarring. “He had a really hard time with the press and expectations,” Shawkat says. “‘Put this on! And look this way! And this is sexy!’”

By the time he appeared in blockbusters like X-Men: The Last Stand and Inception, Page was suffering from depression, anxiety and panic attacks. He didn’t know, he says, “how to explain to people that even though [I was] an actor, just putting on a T-shirt cut for a woman would make me so unwell.” Shawkat recalls Page’s struggles with clothes. “I’d be like, ‘Hey, look at all these nice outfits you’re getting,’ and he would say, ‘It’s not me. It feels like a costume,’” she says. Page tried to convince himself that he was fine, that someone who was fortunate enough to have made it shouldn’t have complaints. But he felt exhausted by the work required to “just exist,” and thought more than once about quitting acting.

In 2014, Page came out as gay, despite feeling for years that “being out was impossible” given his career. (Gender identity and sexual orientation are, of course, distinct, but one queer identity can coexist with another.) In an emotional speech at a Human Rights Campaign conference, Page talked about being part of an industry “that places crushing standards” on actors and viewers alike. “There are pervasive stereotypes about masculinity and femininity that define how we’re all supposed to act, dress and speak,” Page went on. “And they serve no one.”

The actor started wearing suits on the red carpet. He found love, marrying choreographer Emma Portner in 2018. He asserted more agency in his career, producing his own films with LGBTQ leads like Freeheld and My Days of Mercy. And he made a masculine wardrobe a condition of taking roles. Yet the daily discord was becoming unbearable. “The difference in how I felt before coming out as gay to after was massive,” says Page. “But did the discomfort in my body ever go away? No, no, no, no.”

In part, it was the isolation forced by the pandemic that brought to a head Page’s wrestling with gender. (Page and Portner separated last summer, and the two divorced in early 2021. “We’ve remained close friends,” Page says.) “I had a lot of time on my own to really focus on things that I think, in so many ways, unconsciously, I was avoiding,” he says. He was inspired by trailblazing trans icons like Janet Mock and Laverne Cox, who found success in Hollywood while living authentically. Trans writers helped him understand his feelings; Page saw himself reflected in P. Carl’s memoir Becoming a Man. Eventually “shame and discomfort” gave way to revelation. “I was finally able to embrace being transgender,” Page says, “and letting myself fully become who I am.”

This led to a series of decisions. One was asking the world to call him by a different name, Elliot, which he says he’s always liked. Page has a tattoo that says E.P. PHONE HOME, a reference to a movie about a young boy with that name. “I loved E.T. when I was a kid and always wanted to look like the boys in the movies, right?” he says. The other decision was to use different pronouns—for the record, both he/him and they/them are fine. (When I ask if he has a preference on pronouns for the purposes of this story, Page says, “He/him is great.”)

A day before we first speak, Page will talk to his mom about this interview and she will tell him, “I’m just so proud of my son.” He grows emotional relating this and tries to explain that his mom, the daughter of a minister, who was born in the 1950s, was always trying to do what she thought was best for her child, even if that meant encouraging young Page to act like a girl. “She wants me to be who I am and supports me fully,” Page says. “It is a testament to how people really change.”

Another decision was to get top surgery. Page volunteers this information early in our conversation; at the time he posted his disclosure on Instagram, he was recovering in Toronto. Like many trans people, Page emphasizes being trans isn’t all about surgery. For some people, it’s unnecessary. For others, it’s unaffordable. For the wider world, the media’s focus on it has sensationalized transgender bodies, inviting invasive and inappropriate questions. But Page describes surgery as something that, for him, has made it possible to finally recognize himself when he looks in the mirror, providing catharsis he’s been waiting for since the “total hell” of puberty. “It has completely transformed my life,” he says. So much of his energy was spent on being uncomfortable in his body, he says. Now he has that energy back.

For the transgender community at large, visibility does not automatically lead to acceptance. Around the globe, transgender people deal disproportionately with violence and discrimination. Anti-trans hate crimes are on the rise in the U.K. along with increasingly transphobic rhetoric in newspapers and tabloids. In the U.S., in addition to the perennial challenges trans people face with issues like poverty and homelessness, a flurry of bills in state legislatures would make it a crime to provide transition-related medical care to trans youth. And crass old jokes are still in circulation. When Biden lifted the ban on open service for transgender troops, Saturday Night Live’s Michael Che did a bit on Weekend Update about the policy being called “don’t ask, don’t tuck.”

Page says coming out as trans was “selfish” on one level: “It’s for me. I want to live and be who I am.” But he also felt a moral imperative to do so, given the times. Human identity is complicated and mysterious, but politics insists on fitting everything into boxes. In today’s culture wars, simplistic beliefs about gender—e.g., chromosomes = destiny—are so widespread and so deep-seated that many people who hold those beliefs don’t feel compelled to consider whether they might be incomplete or prejudiced. On Feb. 24, after a passionate debate on legislation that would ban discrimination against LGBTQ people, Representative Marie Newman, an Illinois Democrat, proudly displayed the pride flag in support of her daughter, who is trans. Representative Marjorie Taylor Greene, a Georgia Republican, responded by hanging a poster outside her office that read: There are TWO genders: MALE & FEMALE.

The next day Dr. Rachel Levine, who stands to become the first openly transgender federal official confirmed by the Senate, endured a tirade from Senator Rand Paul about “genital mutilation” during her confirmation hearing. My second conversation with Page happens shortly after this. He brings it up almost immediately, and seems both heartbroken and determined. He wants to emphasize that top surgery, for him, was “not only life-changing but lifesaving.” He implores people to educate themselves about trans lives, to learn how crucial medical care can be, to understand that lack of access to it is one of the many reasons that an estimated 41% of transgender people have attempted suicide, according to one survey.

Page has been in the political trenches for a while, having leaned into progressive activism after coming out as queer in 2014. For two seasons, he and best friend Ian Daniel filmed Gaycation, a Viceland series that explored LGBTQ culture around the world and, at one point, showed Page grilling Senator Ted Cruz at the Iowa State Fair about discrimination against queer people. In 2019, Page made a documentary called There’s Something in the Water, which explores environmental hardships experienced by communities of color in Nova Scotia, with $350,000 of his own money. That activism extends to his own industry: in 2017, he published a Facebook post that, among other things, accused director Brett Ratner of forcibly outing him as gay on the set of an X-Men movie. (A representative for Ratner did not respond to a request for comment.)

As a trans person who is white, wealthy and famous, Page has a unique kind of privilege, and with it an opportunity to advocate for those with less. According to the U.S. Trans Survey, a large-scale report from 2015, transgender people of color are more likely to experience unemployment, harassment by police and refusals of medical care. Nearly half of all Black respondents reported being denied equal treatment, verbally harassed and/or physically attacked in the past year. Trans people as a group fare much worse on such stats than the general population. “My privilege has allowed me to have resources to get through and to be where I am today,” Page says, “and of course I want to use that privilege and platform to help in the ways I can.”

Since his disclosure, Page has been mostly quiet on social media. One exception has been to tweet on behalf of the ACLU, which is in the midst of fighting anti-trans bills and laws around the country, including those that ban transgender girls and women from participating in sports. Mississippi Governor Tate Reeves says he will sign such a bill in the name of “protect[ing] young girls.” Page played competitive soccer and vividly recalls the agony of being told he would have to play on the girls’ team once he aged out of mixed-gender squads. After an appeal, Page was allowed to play with the boys for an additional year. Today, several bills list genitalia as a requirement for deciding who plays on which team. “I would have been in that position as a kid,” Page says. “It’s horrific.”

All this advocacy is unlikely to make life easier. “You can’t enter into certain spaces as a public trans person,” says the ACLU’s Strangio, “without being prepared to spend some percentage of your life being threatened and harassed.” Yet, while he seems overwhelmed at times, Page is also eager. Many of the political attacks on trans people—whether it is a mandate that bathroom use be determined by birth sex, a blanket ban on medical interventions for trans kids or the suggestion that trans men are simply wayward women beguiled by male privilege—carry the same subtext: that trans people are mistaken about who they are. “We know who we are,” Page says. “People cling to these firm ideas [about gender] because it makes people feel safe. But if we could just celebrate all the wonderful complexities of people, the world would be such a better place.”

Even if Page weren’t vocal, his public presence would communicate something powerful. That is in part because of what Paisley Currah, a professor of political science at Brooklyn College, calls “visibility gaps.” Historically, trans women have been more visible, in culture and in Hollywood, than trans men. There are many explanations: Our culture is obsessed with femininity. Men’s bodies are less policed and scrutinized. Patriarchal people tend to get more emotional about who is considered to be in the same category as their daughters. “And a lot of trans men don’t stand out as trans,” says Currah, who is a trans man himself. “I think we’ve taken up less of the public’s attention because masculinity is sort of the norm.”

During our interviews, Page will repeatedly refer to himself as a “transgender guy.” He also calls himself nonbinary and queer, but for him, transmasculinity is at the center of the conversation right now. “It’s a complicated journey,” he says, “and an ongoing process.”

While the visibility gap means that trans men have been spared some of the hate endured by trans women, it has also meant that people like Page have had fewer models. “There were no examples,” Page says of growing up in Halifax in the 1990s. There are many queer people who have felt “that how they feel deep inside isn’t a real thing because they never saw it reflected back to them,” says Tiq Milan, an activist, author and transgender man. Page offers a reflection: “They can see that and say, ‘You know what, that’s who I am too,’” Milan says. When there aren’t examples, he says, “people make monsters of us.”

For decades, that was something Hollywood did. As detailed in the 2020 Netflix documentary Disclosure, transgender people have been portrayed onscreen as villainous and deceitful, tragic subplots or the butt of jokes. In a sign of just how far the industry has come—spurred on by productions like Pose and trailblazers like Mock—Netflix offered to change the credits on The Umbrella Academy the same day that its star posted his statement on social media. Now when an episode ends, the first words viewers see are “Elliot Page.”

Today, there are many out trans and nonbinary actors, directors and producers. Storylines involving trans people are more common, more respectful. Sometimes that aspect of identity is even incidental, rather than the crux of a morality tale. And yet Hollywood can still seem a frightening place for LGBTQ people to come out. “It’s an industry that says, ‘Don’t do that,’” says director Silas Howard, who got his break on Amazon’s show Transparent, which made efforts to hire transgender crew members. “I wouldn’t have been hired if they didn’t have a trans initiative,” Howard says. “I’m always aware of that.”

So what will it mean for Page’s career? While Page has appeared in many projects, he also faced challenges landing female leads because he didn’t fit Hollywood’s narrow mold. Since Page’s Instagram post, his team is seeing more activity than they have in years. Many of the offers coming in—to direct, to produce, to act—are trans-related, but there are also some “dude roles.”

Downtime in quarantine helped Page accept his gender identity. “I was finally able to embrace being transgender,” he says.

Page was attracted to the role of Vanya in The Umbrella Academy because—in the first season, released in 2019—Vanya is crushed by self-loathing, believing herself to be the only ordinary sibling in an extraordinary family. The character can barely summon the courage to move through the world. “I related to how much Vanya was closed off,” Page says. Now on set filming the third season, co-workers have seen a change in the actor. “It seems like there’s a tremendous weight off his shoulders, a feeling of comfort,” says showrunner Steve Blackman. “There’s a lightness, a lot more smiling.” For Page, returning to set has been validating, if awkward at times. Yes, people accidentally use the wrong pronouns—“It’s going to be an adjustment,” Page says—but co-workers also see and acknowledge him.

The debate over whether cisgender people, who have repeatedly collected awards for playing trans characters, should continue to do so has largely been settled. However, trans actors have rarely been considered for cisgender parts. Whatever challenges might lie ahead, Page seems exuberant about playing a new spectrum of roles. “I’m really excited to act, now that I’m fully who I am, in this body,” Page says. “No matter the challenges and difficult moments of this, nothing amounts to getting to feel how I feel now.”

This includes having short hair again. During our interview, Page keeps rearranging strands on his forehead. It took a long time for him to return to the barber’s chair and ask to cut it short, but he got there. And how did that haircut feel?

Page tears up again, then smiles. “I just could not have enjoyed it more,” he says.”

#suicide m #transphobia m #Elliot Page #transgender #representation #celebrities #actors #tv #movies #rep #trans #transmasculine #nonbinary #queer #long post

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tammythompson-singslikea-muppet · 3 years

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Reconciliation (Stan Uris x reader x Richie Tozier, Reddie)

I'm finally back! It's probably been a year since I posted Betrayal and shit has really hit the fan since then, but here I am a year later with part 2!

Here is a link to part 1

Warning: swearing

Aged up: 18/19

You tried to catch up with Stan as he power-walked out of the house. He stopped short when he realized his car wasn't there. "Stan" You catch his attention and he turns around. His chest rising and falling at a quick pace, "You heard everything in there?" Stan's voice was quiet, much quieter than just a minute ago. You nod and he sighs. "I'm sor-" You cut him off "Don't be" You take a step forward and bring your hand up to push some curls out of his face. He leans into your hand, not stopping himself for once. No yearning, no shouting in his head over his actions. Just the feel of your soft palm against his cheek. Stan takes a deep breath, feeling himself calm down in the wake of your touch. "Can we go somewhere?" Stan's voice barely above a whisper. "Of course."

Richie leaned back against the wall and slid down to the floor. He brushed his hands through his hair 'God I fucked up' "Man you really fucked up." Richie looked up. "Thanks, Bill your a real help." Bill put his hands up in defense. "I gotta say I really didn't see that one coming," Eddie spoke up. Bill and Mike nodded in agreement. "I mean I knew *something* was going on but holy shit I didn't think they were in love with each other," Beverly added. "We know Stanley's in love with her but is she in love with Stan? I mean she was just in a serious relationship like a week ago" "Yeah I wonder what happened to that relationship?" Ben's eyes sharp at Eddie, voice stiff and slightly viscous, "Alright! Alright!! None of that!" Mike's authoritative voice made it known he was seriously done with all the fighting. "She loves him" The group turned their heads at Richie's small voice, Ha stared down at the floor and spoke softly. "She may not be in love with him right now, but I could see it. She's falling for Stan."

Eddie looked over at Richie. A mix of emotions reached throughout the boy. He hated seeing Richie like this, but he also hated that it was about you. Mostly he hated that it was about you. He couldn't control it, no matter how much he wished that he could. What is it exactly that Richie is so mad at? Is he upset that he potentially ruined his relationship with Stan? Is he upset that Stan is in love with (Y/N) or that Stan claimed he neither loved nor cared about (Y/N)? Is Richie still in love with (Y/N)? If so is he mad that (Y/N) could be in love with Stan or that she is moving on so quickly? Eddie couldn't help but feel like he was still second to you. It's not like Richie chose to tell you. He kept telling Eddie that he would for at least 2 weeks, but then she found out in her own way. Eddie feared that maybe he was never gonna tell you. Or now that you found out does Richie regret it? 'Alright, Alright Eddie calm the fuck down! Just go talk to Richie.' "Eds?" "Yeah Rich." "I'm gonna go." Richie's tone sounded soft, defeated. It broke Eddie's heart to see him like this. "Yeah sure I'll go grab my keys-" Richie cut him off politely. "I'm just gonna walk. I think I wanna be alone right now. I'll call you later." Richie placed a hand on the back of Eddie's head pulling him close and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "OK. Be safe please."

"Where are we going?" You ask Stan who is driving and keeping silent. "You'll see. Um, go into the glove compartment a find the clear tape." You scrunch your eyebrows together. "You been stashing things in my glove compartment, Uris?" You found a clear tape and put it into the radio. Temptation by New Order flooded in through the speakers. A smile grew on your face as you turned the volume nob up. Stan looked over at you for a second just to see your growing smile. "I made you a tape and left it in here for the next time you complain that there's nothing good on the radio." A fit of giggles came from your mouth. "Stanley Uris made me a fucking mix-tape." You continued to laugh. It brought a smile, growing wider by the second, to see you so happy and blissful listening to your favorite music, a song he loved as well.

And I've never seen anyone quite like you before. No, I've never met anyone quite like you before.

Richie's emotions were confusing him now more than ever. He loved (Y/N). He truly did, but he just wasn't in love with her. Guilt consumes him every night before sleep and every time he sees you. He never wanted to hurt you. But when it comes to Eddie he's impulsive even a little reckless. Richie knew that he fucked up massively. Not only with you but with Stan and he even feels so with Eddie. He felt that if he just would have been honest with you before jumping into things with Eds maybe Eddie wouldn't have lost his best friend. He still couldn't wrap his head around how much of an idiot and a dick he was about Stanley. What in the fucking hell would lead him to believe that Stanley Uris of all people would fuck around with someone's feelings like that? He had already caused (Y/N) enough pain maybe he was trying to be a hero or something. Do something right for once, but of course, it was just another gigantic fuck up! Executed wonderfully by your very own Richie Tozier. Richie had noticed that he walked straight to the quarry. He picked up a stone and skipped it across the water.

Stan pulled the car over along where the road stopped and the tree's started. "Come on." Stan walked over to your side of the car and opened the door for you and held out his hand. You took his hand and walked beside him into the woods. "You trying to get me to some secret secondary location?" "What, you don't recognize where we're going?" You looked around a bit and shook your head. "Well, then I guess it will be a surprise." "I guess this is the day I get murder in the woods. Goodbye world you were never all that good to me but at least my murder is hot as hell." You almost couldn't see Stan's blush from how much he was laughing. You're hands brush as you walked close together. Stan felt a little nervous to take it, it's not like he hasn't held your hand before but right now he feels it holds so much more. 'Good' he thought to himself. 'It does mean more. Let it mean more.' He took your hand in his and warmth spread throughout the both of you. Just the two of you holding hands walking through the trees with Stan pointing out some birds to you, felt so blissful. At this moment you realized you had never felt this way with Richie. The two of you had a lot in common and play off each other well jokes and conversation-wise. But maybe that wasn't all a relationship needed. You had felt that's why Richie and you were so perfect together. Maybe this was finally the start to forgiving Richie and regaining some normalcy, realizing that maybe we weren't perfect or meant to be after all. If this is how Richie felt with Eddie you felt that you could somewhat understand why he was so in a rush to have it. It was scary how new this thing with Stan was yet how important it felt to you. You would go to the ends of the earth to protect what you had with Stan, no one in the world made you feel as safe and comforted as Stanley Uris. What Richie did, going behind your back, was in no way how he should've handled the situation. You let him into some of the most vulnerable spaces in your mind and life, entrusting him with your heart and your deepest thoughts, that you were his only person. That wasn't something easy to forgive, not something to easily recover from, especially having that trust broken with someone else with who you were very close. You may be happy and blissful at this moment, but you definitely knew the consequences of Richie's actions would come back to rear its ugly head sooner or later. But you believed that understanding was one of the first steps toward forgiveness. The more you walked the louder the sound of running water became. Soon you could even see the running water. You realized Stan had brought you to the barrens.'But why the barrens?' you thought to yourself. You reached the edge of the water and looked over to Stan. "C'mon" he grabbed your hand and stepped out onto a rock in the water. You did your best to follow, it finally dawns on you that you were headed toward the clubhouse.

When you got to the small clearing Stan went ahead and lifted the hatch to the small underground area where the losers used to hang out. "I've only been here a couple of times." You said as you climbed down the ladder. "Yeah, I guess we started hanging out other places more." Stan walked over to the hammock getting in. He smiled and reached his arms out like a little kid asking for a hug. You raised an eyebrow at him. "I know. I always feel like I'm gonna fall out of this thing, but it's safe I promise." "Okay," You say drawing out the word in a skeptical tone. You yelped as it wobbled and Stan gripped his arms around your waist as the hammock swung a little. "See, safe." You let out an amused huff and relaxed into Stan. Your back was pressed against his chest, both of your heads finding slightly uncomfortable spots in the crooks of the other's neck. "I remember one of the first times Eddie ever brought you to hang around with us was down here." Stan played with your hands in your lap. "I remember looking over and seeing you smiling, talking to Beverly. It was really hot out, your cheeks were pink. Richie gave you his shower cap and you, him, and Bill talked about comic books." You closed your eyes just listening to Stan talk softly into your hair. "Beverly came over to me when she noticed. She was joking around told me to stop staring, that it was rude. I hadn't even noticed that I was staring. I got nervous cuz, -hoping you didn't notice. You were so beautiful I couldn't help but stare." You blushed and let out a chuckle, your stomach filling up with butterflies. "I don't expect you to say back any time soon, and I in no means want to rush you, but I-" Stan paused, thinking about the impact of his words. He started to think maybe he should give you a little time, but then you leaned your head up to look at him. And when he looked down into your eyes there was no way stopping the words from falling out of his mouth. "I love you." The look in Stan's eyes was intoxicating, you could have stared in his eyes for the rest of both your lives, but instead, you brought your hand up to his jaw and tilted your head bringing yours and Stan's lips together. Equally as intoxicating as the look in his eyes. The two of you felt as if you were floating on clouds. Like you two were the only two people in the world. You pulled away and smiled, Stan pressed his forehead against yours. "I know" You and Stan laughed.

"Ok Rich. You just need to apologize. I'm sure they'll forgive you. They're your friends, basically your family." Richie walked back into town talking to himself. "And you hurt them and accused them of shitty things and now all your friends will hate you forever cuz you were a total dick and even their grandchildren will hate the name, Richie Tozier." Richie stopped for a second and groaned, rubbing his hands up and down his face under his glasses. He took a deep breath and continued walking.

Mike opened the door to Richie. "Hey man, come in." "Is Eds still here." "Yeah, he's in the living room. Rich," Mike put a hand on his shoulder. "He's worried about you. We all kinda are. There's been a lot going on with you four I just want to remind you that if you need someone to talk to we're all here for you buddy." "Thanks, man." Richie continues into the living room and sees Ben and Eddie talking. He breathes a sigh of relief, knowing how much it hurt Eddie that Ben wouldn't talk to him. They hugged and Ben got up off the couch and saw Richie. "I'm really sorry Richie. It was really rude to treat you like that-" Richie cut him off. "It's ok man really, I get it. She's your friend, I was a dick." "Yeah but you and Eddie are my friends too." "Well then what do you say Haystack," Richie extended out a hand. "Back to buds." Ben agreed and shook Richie's hand. Richie took a seat next to Eddie on the couch. "Hey, I'm glad your back I wanted to-" Richie leaned in and kissed Eddie. "As much as I love you and your adorable rambling I wanted to apologize." Eddie was suddenly very nervous. He thought to himself 'Shit this is it. He still loves Kassidy.' "Sure, Sure yeah. Umm a-about what Rich?" Richie took Eddie's hands in his fiddling with them out of nerves. "About everything. About not telling Kassidy. About not even being decent enough to break it off first so neither of you would get hurt. All of this would have been so much easier and nobody would've had to lose any friends. I'm just so sorry Eddie, I love you and I never wanted to hurt you like that." Eddie was so relieved to hear those words come out of Richie's mouth. He put a hand up to Richie's cheek and leaned to kiss him. "I love you too Richie." Richie chuckled in relief "Thank fuck."

You and Stan walked back to the car hand in hand. "So what do you wanna do now? " You leaned your back up against the car door "Oh I don't know maybe some more of this." Stan leaned himself against the car by his forearm and with his other hand lifted your chin, leaning down connecting your lips. You hummed against his lips. "Well, I do love doing that." "Do you want to go back to your place-" Stan pressed a small kiss on your neck "Watch a movie." "Shit!" Stan's head shot up. "I left my house keys at Bens." "We can sneak through your bedroom window." You push yourself off of the car, past Stan, and walked to the other side pulling your door open. "I don't wanna go back there either but with any luck, Richie won't be there." Stan groaned and got into the car.

You wrapped your knuckles on the door and Mike opened it with a smile. "I just forgot my keys." Mike let you in past him to the table where the keys sat. You quickly walked over to the table and grabbed your keys. Turning around back towards the door you catch Richie staring from the couch next to Eddie. For once you didn't feel the wind knocked out of you. But you couldn't say that the feeling of wanting to punch him had dulled any. You carried on toward the door when Richie called out your name. You sighed and banged your head on Mike's front door and contemplated for a second whether or not you should pretend you didn't hear him and keep walking. Apparently, you had stayed there a bit too long. Richie tapped two fingers on your shoulder. "I was just wondering if you would let me talk at you for a second. You don't need to say anything, or react in any way really-" You turned around and put your hands on his shoulders. He froze silent as you drew a deep breath. "I forgive you." It wasn't easy to say, you weren't even sure it was true. A part of you wanted to keep him dangling in wonder and guilt but you knew that you would eventually fully forgive him and the more you saw him moping around the more you would most likely enjoy watching him suffer for what he did. But if he just thought that you had forgiven him then maybe he would go back to his old trashmouth self and you all could move on.

Richie was taken by surprise, to say the least. He felt relief for a fleeting moment until he remembers Stan. "He's out in the car" He heard him speak softly. She somehow always knew what was going on inside his head, that's what made him think that she was so great, that they would be so great together. Against your better judgment, you grimaced and said, "I can give you five minutes. But he has the car keys so I can't promise he won't dive off on you." Richie threw his arms around you and squeezed you, "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" "Yeah, sure get off me" He smiled at you, "Sorry." As Richie walked out the door he turned back to you, "He wouldn't drive off without his best girl." Richie started making trumpets sound in the tune of 'A Long Long Time' by Kitty Kallen and closed the door. You rolled your eyes as you and Mike laughed

Richie fell silent as he walked up to your car with Stan in the front seat. He raised his hand and tapped on the window. Stan kept his stare forward and locked the car door. Richie sighed. "Stan please." Richie heard the click of the car doors unlock and walked around to the other side and got in. "I'm so sorry. I was being a complete shit of a person and totally overreacted. I do care about her, I do! That's why I got so angry and it totally fucked up my judgment." Stan wasn't saying anything and it started to make Richie even more nervous. "I was angry and confused and I honestly don't know where all of that came from. That's not what I think of you at all, you gotta know that, Stan. You're one of my best friends and the best dude I know and I'm so sorry I said all of those things. I know I really fucked up." The two of them sat and stared out the windshield, Richie's leg bounced up and down from nerves until Stanley broke the silence. "I'm sorry too. That I turned my back on you. I couldn't understand how you had the most perfect girl right in front of you and seeing you hurt her made me angry too. I mean we all saw you and Eddie happening eventually, but I didn't think you two would go and do that. I love her and I guess I let that get in the way of our friendship." "I mean dude I don't really think I could blame you. I've seen the way she looks at you. It can make someone do stupid and crazy things." "Well then I guess that explains why you are so stupid and crazy," Stan laughed, "Eddie looks at you like that 24\7." Richie turned away laughing and hoped it hid the bright red flush on his cheeks. "I can't believe she actually forgave me." "Yeah me neither, to be honest." Stanley dead-panned. "Buuut," Stan took a calming deep breath, "If she can forgive you, then I guess I should too."

Eddie walked up to (Y\N) hesitantly as she was laughing with Mike. Mike saw Eddie and took that as his cue to leave, or rather to eavesdrop from the kitchen with Beverly, Ben, and Bill.

"Thanks for uh.. for forgiving Richie, he's been a wreck," Eddie said. "N-not that I've been fine! I-I feel completely terrible for what I did. But I mean I-I-I'm not trying to make you feel bad for me or anything. O-or for Richie. I just mean that we're both really sorry. I'm so, so very sorry (Y/N)." Eddie stammered through quickly. Man, do your shoes look mighty interesting at that moment. 'You forgave Richie why is it so hard to forgive Eddie. Maybe because we only gave Richie a premature apology so we could all get back to normal? Should I have to do that with Eddie too? Fuck that neither of them deserves it!' You fought back and forth with yourself in your head before finally looking up at Eddie. You took a deep breath, "I know...I-" Eddie cut you off "You don't have to." "I feel like I should." "You already kinda forgave Richie I know that's a big thing so you can hate me for as long as you need I deserve it." You smiled at Eddie and walked out of the house. Richie saw you walking towards the car and stepped out leaving the door open for you. You got in and leaned over to Stanley cupping the side of his face to bring him closer and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Stan started the car as you buckled. You tucked your legs up onto the seat and curled up to get comfy. Stan rests his hand over on one of your legs as you closed your eye

taglist: @elisaa-shelby @trashxqueen @igotahammer @pillowjj @screechinglawyer @campcampie

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peralta-guaranteed · 3 years

Note

good trope or bad trope: one of them waking up from surgery or something and being so high on drugs they forget they're together and the other has to explain it

good trope GOOD trope good trope! and this was probably just a question but I couldn't resiiiist

-*-

It's kind of sad to think about the fact that Amy is already used to monitors beeping in a cold hospital room around her squad and, mostly, around her partner. They've been in so many horrible situations, so many little moments where she's had to worry about them, that today she's almost glad she doesn't have to. Jake's surgery had neither been scheduled nor planned, and there had been a whole lot of panic leading up to it when she drove him to the hospital wincing in pain, his arms clutched around his lower stomach, but the doctor's told her they came in early enough for it to be a more routine procedure rather than an emergency. And now his appendix was out, and he would be hurting and healing for a while, but the trepidation about that is nowhere close to the fear she's used to feeling while sitting in these uncomfortable hospital chairs, wondering when the person in the bed next to her would wake up. The last time she'd been in this position, Rosa was hooked up to so many many more machines, and she looked like a bad wax figurine of herself, all pale and stiff.

Jake looks almost fine, no breathing mask or tube down his nostril, just a little beeping heart monitor and some infusion in his arm. The nurse told her he'd be waking up soon when she lead her into the room, and that they could probably go home later that evening already.

(She also told her that he'd been one of the more amusing patients she'd had under anesthesia, which was not a surprise, and that he'd been asking for her every time he groggily opened his eyes for just a few seconds, which was not a surprise either.)

He blinks awake slowly, eyes darting around the room as if to figure out where he is, before they land on her and stay stuck, his forehead creasing in confusion for a second before he grins.

"Heyyyy, it'sa Santiago!" He tries in a croaky voice, and Amy reaches for the cup of ice water the nurse brought in to hand it to him. He's shaky, but he can handle it alone, she notes almost subconsciously - she remembers enough moments where she's had to feed him ice chips instead because he could barely move his arms.

"Hey." She answers with a softer smile as he gulps down almost the whole cup - considering he still hates water, he must really need it. "How are you feeling?"

"Oh, just splendid, thanks." He quips before trying to sit up more and wincing, the stitches in his stomach upset. "What the hell did I do this time to end up here?"

"What?"

"I mean, I don't remember a chase or a fight, but it sure feels like I took a knife to the stomach or something?"

They look at each other, equally confused, before Amy shakes her head.

"You dont remember-? It wasn't a work thing, Jake, your appendix almost burst."

"Ah dang. That's not even a cool story for a new scar." He sighs as he leans back a bit against the pillow and carefully palms the space where she knows the skin is going to be light pink and rougher than usual from now on. "Sorry they made you wait around for my stupid ass to recover, or is the squad at least taking turns?"

She stares at him, her mind racing, and it seems to make him nervous. He's still trying to go for that usual grin, but his eyes are darting around, sticking to parts of her without looking directly into her eyes, and she can see he's getting fidgety. Mixing that with what he's saying, and the way he's saying it - his voice is different, somehow, more - guarded, or distant, it's hard to explain, but she only remembers it from a long time ago - makes her suddenly realise.

He's been given some very heavy duty painkillers and narcotics, she hears the nurse's voice in her head, so he might be disoriented or confused for quite a while. It shows differently in lots of people, so I can't tell you what to expect, but he'll be back to normal once it passes through his system.

He doesn't remember, she thinks. He doesn't remember... a lot.

"Jake." She gets his nervous attention back, trying to school her voice into something calm and friendly, instead of the equally nervous and somewhat excited giggle she wants to let out so bad. "I think you're still working through your medication. Can you tell me what the last thing you remember is?"

He leans back again and stares at the ceiling, and it's hard to read the emotions on his face.

"Just... regular work stuff, to be honest. Nothing big."

"Okay, then what is the last big thing you can think of?"

"Uh." He swallows, and Amy refills his water cup, but he doesn't take it. "I, uh, I remember Hoytsman kidnapping me." He laughs a short laugh, obviously trying to make it seem lighter than it ever was, but that's not the only reason Amy feels her heart jump.

His mind is stuck before their relationship. After Sofia left him. He thinks he's woken up after being injured at work, and there's no one there waiting for him except for a work partner who he's been trying so hard to pretend he doesn't like anymore, and for whom he obviously has to play the "I'm okay!" role still.

"Wow. Uh. Okay." She babbles, trying to find a way to be gentle and not confuse him any more. "Then, uh, I guess, well, your medication should pass soon, I think, and you'll remember more, so don't worry-"

"Amy." He's staring at her when she finally looks up, and notes her shorter hair, her far more comfortable outfit than the pantsuits he sees her wear at work, and even while high on drugs it's not that hard for him to put two and two together. "How much am I missing?"

"Quite a lot." She finally admits, but drops her look down into her lap, to her folded hands, and she unconsciously covers her wedding ring before he can see it. "A few years."

"Years?!" He squeals while leaning forward and then groans, because that has definitely upset his wound.

"It's okay, the nurse said it would happen." She quickly tries to calm him. "It's - you'll remember when the anaesthetic passes properly, so it's alright."

"Alright, yeah." He nods and finally settles into the pillow again, as silence envelops them for a few awkward moments, in which Amy's mind races through all the things he's missing right now.

"Okay." He interrupts her sad little mental storybook of their life's drama. "Let's play a game until then, huh? I call it 'Shock&Tell'."

"Jake-"

"It's easy, you'll get the rules. Basically, you tell me stuff I don't know right now and see how shocked you can get me."

"That's not funny-"

"Oh, I think it is. I know how much you like to have me speechless." He grins at her, and she can't resist.

"Title of your sex tape."

"Amy Santiago!" He gasps with a laugh, but there's hesitation in his eyes, and she remembers they weren't exactly at a flirting stage back where he is right now. "For that alone, you have to play a round with me."

"I can't think of anything shocking at the moment." She lies, and he sees right through her.

"Okay, then tell me the worst thing you think happens to me in those years, and the best. From your opinion."

She sighs and stares at her hands again, but she knows he won't let up - he's not gotten any less obnoxious from back then to now.

"Alright. The worst thing. You went to jail." She states, matter of fact, and watches his eyes practically bulge out of his head.

"Holy shi- WhAT?! Like, for a crime? Or-what-did I-what?!"

"You were innocent!" She says as fast as she can, and watches him deflate only a little.

"I sure fucking hope so! But still, what- how- why- ?"

"You and Rosa were framed by a criminally corrupt cop. It took us a few months to get evidence against her and have her sentenced instead."

"A few months." He whispers and stares at his hands, scrunching up the blanket he's wrapped in.

"You weren't alone." Her voice is soft and calm now, seeing him in such a state of unrest, and it takes all she has not to pull him into a hug - it'd probably both confuse and actually hurt him right now, given the stitches. "I mean, you were alone in prison, but we- the squad - we were all fighting for you and Rosa, and Charles and I visited you, and we- I- we never gave up on you."

He smiles, soft and a little broken, but he nods, as if that was something he'd always expect.

"Okay, now the best thing. Because lemme tell you, Santiago, you have to make up for that suckerpunch."

She smiles much wider now, almost grins as she leans forward to finally reach for his hand, entangling their fingers (to which he goes along almost automatically) and feeling her rings clink against the one on his. Jake's eyes are frozen on her hand in his, where he can see a shiny wedding band over what is clearly his Nana's old engagement ring, and he's barely breathing.

"Oh my god." He whispers a moment later, squeezing her hand almost painfully tight as he looks at her again, and she's still smiling.

"We're married?"

"Yeah."

"To- to each other?"

"Yeah, you doofus." She laughs.

"I'm- I'm your husband." He whispers again. "Even thought I went to jail?!"

"Well", she still laughs softly at the absolute shine in his eyes, the awe on his face. "You proposed after that. But I would've married you before, anyway." I would've married you before a lot of things you don't remember, she thinks but doesn't dare say, for fear he'll ask about those other things.

"You're my wife." He says, still stunned, and she nods. "We're married."

She nods again, and watches as the confused awe on his face turns into an almost relieved joy, and his bottom lip trembles as tears start rolling down his cheeks.

"Jake..." She whispers in turn now, her free hand (that is not currently being gripped by both of his) cupping his face and wiping away some of the tears that keep flowing.

"You're happy?" He asks with trepidation in his voice, and Amy wonders if the emotional rollercoaster is another side-effect of his medicine or just his lowered inhibitions. "I'm a good husband?"

"I couldn't wish for a better husband. You make me very happy." She's almost close to tears now herself. "I love you so much."

He gasps at that, and pulls her still gripped hand up to his face, pulling her closer to him in the process.

"I love you, Amy." is his answer, and she realises he means it, even with all the things he doesn't remember, all the things he doesn't know yet. "I love you so much. I can't believe I get to marry you."

His tears have calmed down a little by now, and she fixes her awkward pose of leaning forward and having both arms reach for his face by climbing up onto the bed with him, as he lowers their hands and looks at her with stars in his eyes and so much love on his face, she can't resist to pass the last few inches and kiss him.

His eyes are still closed when she pulls back and touches her forehead to his, and he's whispering again.

"Wow."

"Well, that's certainly an appreciated reaction." She giggles.

"Don't tell me I don't react like that every time you kiss me, because there's no way I'll believe that."

"Yeah." She smiles again as he opens his eyes and smiles back. "Yeah, you kinda do."

And just to prove it, she kisses him again.

#B99 #Brooklyn 99 #Peraltiago #Jake Peralta #Amy Santiago #my writing #ficlet

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subbing-for-clones · 3 years

Text

She Who Walks the Line Between Part 3

Maul x GreyJedi!Reader

Word Count: 2682

WARNINGS: blood, fluffy fluff starts picking up

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The few hours of sleep he was able to achieve were filled with nightmares that consisted of his memories returning. His life played out behind his eyelids charging his sadness, terror and his fury. Yet before his mind could plummet to unreachable depths, he sensed a calming presence in the back of his mind. A hand that reached out for him to hold onto. He had no idea that during his rest he became quite vocal and Y/N stood in his doorway using the force to ease him back into a relaxed state. Pulling him further away from the unseen dangers that threatened to pull him down and drown him.

He woke with a start, not remembering where he was. His first thought was why it didn’t smell like fire and burning fuels mixed with humid gasses. When he felt his legs shift under the blankets the events that took place yesterday flooded back to the forefront of his memory. He smelled the sweet sugary aroma of a plate towering with baked apples and honeyed meat sitting on his night stand but before he indulged his groaning stomach, movement from outside the window caught his eye. It was his savior.

Not covered in the same make of dress she wore yesterday. Today she adorned a fitted white cloth binding across her chest and beige trousers that bagged around her thighs but were tight just below her knees. Barefooted, she dual wielded white lightsabers in the Ataru style. Dodging quickly and lunging aggressively toward an invisible attacker. Gracefully she connected the two sabers so they appeared to be a single double sided weapon. Twirling them so quickly and dancing on her feet so lightly his eyes had trouble keeping up. She was working through forms he both recognized and ones he had never seen before. He could see a light glimmer of sweat slicked across her form catching in the early morning sunlight. She must have been training for hours already. Strands of hair falling out of the bun she had tied up to keep the majority of her locks out of her eyeline.

He took and ate the breakfast she prepared slowly, studying her through the glass with admiration. Obviously satisfied with her efforts she hung her now sheathed sabers from the gate and tended the goats and chickens within the pen. Despite her hostile training they were calm and trotted up to her as she passed through the gate. He watched her feed the animals and her mouth form words he couldn't hear, assuming they were praises as they danced around her.

~~~~~

The next two weeks were more of the same every day. You meditated and trained in the mornings before tending to your animals. You knew his eyes were on you while he ate the food you always left for him, always watching. You feigned ignorance and never mentioned that you caught him staring, surprising yourself with the fact that you kind of liked the attention. When you had finished your morning routine you would find him dressed in his room practicing the basic movements and exercises you assigned to him for his physical therapy. Satisfied he was actually doing them you would go shower and dressing in your usual slitted dresses that you preferred.

You would eat again together and continue helping him work his legs. After the first few days he joined you in your afternoon meditation followed by more exercises or flipping through one of your many books, light music always on in the background. The longer he was in your care the softer his eyes looked, the stronger his legs got and he came to be more comfortable in your proximity. You had both gotten used to one another's company. You had spent so much time alone on this planet you had forgotten what it was like to have a companion. A rather agreeable one at that. It was nice.

~~~~~

Now able to walk on his own with only the help from a cane he joined Y/N outside every morning. Still unable to train as she did, he practiced walking around the pen surrounded by the animals. He could see a smile grace her lips when he interacted gently with them. When she had finished, she strode over to him leaning up against the fence with her arms crossed and her brows furrowed.

"What is it?" He asked, honey eyes filled with concern that he had upset her somehow. He tended to revert back to the frightened apprentice she realized he had been at one point in his life if she wasn’t careful. Despite the fact that he had never one been the cause of even a slight frustration within her.

"I have to leave for a day or two, stock up on some things this planet doesn't have. I need you to stay here, I fear a storm is coming and I don't want to leave the animals unattended. Would you be alright with that?”

Sighing with relief he agreed and watched as she boarded her ship and took off.

The next day after she had left, he must have looked up to the sky every hour impatiently waiting for her to return. He ate much less without her, swearing to himself that it didn't taste as good if it didn't come from her hands. He did however keep up with his exercises and spent much of his free time with the goats and chickens. That night he had even more trouble falling asleep than he usually did; missing her company. After tossing and turning until daybreak he made a daring move, striding toward Y/N's room without his cane for the first time.

He had never been inside of it but he had caught glances after noticing she had been sleeping with her door open, starting a few days after his arrival. Sheer white curtains hung in front of the transparasteel panes that overlooked the garden. Like the rest of the house, not a single chronometer in sight. The need to keep time didn't really exist in this place, he enjoyed that small detail over the past few weeks. It was starkly different from how he was raised, every moment of every day planned down to the second. Even a slight deviation always resulting with a beating. He had to keep reminding himself that she was not his master. When he did forget she would always lend a kind reminder she was master of nothing and no one.

The pine-colored rug under foot was exceptionally plush and extended across most of the floor, the polished dark wooden flooring peeking out only around the edges of the room. A long desk was situated beneath the large viewport. Atop it lay several data-tapes and empty books. She must be copying the information by hand he assessed. Actual paper writing was extremely rare and her home was filled with paper sheeted books bound in various leathers. One of the books sat open with a pen resting on it, the entry was short but he loved seeing her handwriting nonetheless. Without lifting the journal, he stood and read the page entry, curiosity getting the better of him.

Maul- Day 17:

‘He is recovering faster than I had originally anticipated but I am also not surprised. He has to be strong to have survived as long as he did on his own in the condition he came to me in. Already walking on his own supported only by a cane by day 10. He is gaining weight slowly but is starting to look healthier. He will snap back quickly once he can walk on his own again, unaided by a crutch. His eyes aren’t nearly as blood shot and the lighter shade of color in his horns and nails indicates he is getting proper nutrients and that his hormones have balanced out.

His mind seems to be healing as well, I haven't asked about his memories but I know they come in the form of nightmares. He responds well to my attempts to calm him in his sleep. They still come every night but he has gone from an excessive number of fits to only two or three a night. He is still wildly unbalanced but the scale is starting to tip in the right direction. I have come to realize that I enjoy his presence. He seems to be more comfortable with small talk. I like his voice, alas my mind wanders.’

Maul hobbled over to her bed and hesitantly laid down on top of it not daring to mess up the bedding too much. Several realizations crossing his mind. One, she had actually come to care for him as he was starting to care for her. Two, he learned why she slept with her door open now. His hearts raced at the thought of her standing in his doorway calming him while he slept. Three, she liked his voice. He had always been scolded if he spoke unnecessarily, taught to be silent as shadows. But she liked his voice. He could smell her on her pillows, a sweet earthy scent that lingered in his nose. Very quickly sleep took him.

He awoke that evening as the sun was starting to set to the sound of thunder ripping through the sky. His belly growled, he had grown accustomed to several meals a day and his hunger had caught up to him. Being sure to straighten out the blankets on her bed he stood and made his way to the kitchen. Opening the cooler for the first time, he found a plate with a large cooked steak and a note.

‘You had better eat this before I return. You have to eat even if I'm not there. -Y/N’

He smiled at her sentiment. As usual with everything she made, it was like ambrosia in his mouth. The moment he finished eating he sensed the animals were distressed. Not bringing his cane he made his way slowly outside to the barn. The rain came down almost violently, lightning streaking across the now black sky while thunder crashed angrily.

He was soaking wet by the time he got inside to check the animals who were immediately calmed when they saw him. Sighing he sat in the middle of the floor and began his meditation to stave away his and their anxiety of the storm. He had hoped she wasn't flying in this but she was already away longer than she said she'd be. That didn't help the knot of worry growing in his belly.

~~~~~

When you came out of hyperspace and entered the atmosphere you realized you must have put the coordinates in a digit off. You were on the wrong side of the planet, jungle stretched out as far as you could see. This wouldn’t be the first time you had accidently come home in the wrong hemisphere. You sighed at your own antics. It was too dangerous to fly back out to space so you had to navigate through the storm down here. Your ship seemed to attract the lightning but you managed to sense it a split second before it struck, narrowly dodging the persistent bolts. Before long you could just make out the break that gave way to the grasslands. You started lowering out of the sky but were distracted to see Maul coming out of the barn. It was just a moment of distraction but an important moment, you didn't sense the lightning. You were struck and it killed the power sending you nose first straight into the soil with a loud crash. Your vision blacked out after hitting your head on impact knocking you unconscious.

~~~~~

No...NO... fuck.

Maul watched as the bolt hit her ship and she crashed out in the field. Eyes wide with panic he ran as fast as his new legs would carry, almost giving out several times before he reached the fallen ship. He raised his arms, using the force for the first time in weeks he opened the door and lowering the ramp. It didn't reach the ground due to the crafts hazardous angle. Force jumping inside he landed on his feet with a shocking pain that radiated through his torso. Snarling he made his way to the cockpit where he found her starting to wake up.

~~~~~

You felt strong hands on your arms gently squeezing, you sighed into the touch rubbing your head and your eyes. When they finally opened the first thing you saw were two brightly glowing golden orbs. Rubbing your eyes again, your vision fully returning, you realized they belonged to a very worried looking Zabrack. Who was covered in...straw?

Remembering what distracted you in the first place you burst into laughter. Hard, rolling laughter.

The worry on his face shifted into confusion. He slowly wiped the blood off your temple from where you hit your head. Then he lifted you bridal style and started walking out of the ship. Finding a new reserve of strength and determination he carried you all the way to your home. Although you stopped laughing you still giggled, picking pieces of straw off the back of his tunic. Finally realizing what you found so amusing he smiled, "the storm scared the goats so I meditated with them. I ended up falling asleep out there."

He now stood in the living room, still in his arms you replied, "I kind figured as much." You pressed your forehead to his for a moment, butterflies dancing in both of your stomachs. He set you down on the couch slowly and fetched a cool wet cloth. Tenderly, he dabbed at the cut. You watched him closely, a slight blush fanning across your cheeks. He was so soft, so careful in this moment, so near you, a stark comparison to the man who had first landed in your field not long ago.

He heard your heartbeat quicken and saw your blush, causing his face to deepen slightly along with yours. Quickly he stood, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck looking anywhere but at you. "I think you'll be alright," he stammered. "It's just a shallow laceration."

You also stood, inches from him. He was taller than you were, not by much, but it was noticeable when you were this close to his body. "I could've told you that but noooo you had to cast aside your cane and come to the rescue... Thank you." You batted your long eyelashes at him and he gulped, gaze not leaving your own this time.

"I have a present for you."

"You do?" He asked now distracted from your devilishly plump lips.

"Yeah, quick stop on Naboo, few broken necks, spines and bribes later aaaaaaand.." you reached behind your back unclipping a third lightsaber from your belt. Still rough where it had been sliced in half you presented it to him. "Tada!"

"You did this for me?" He asked slowly taking it in his hands. It seemed.. heavier than he remembered. But it was his.

"Yes I did,” you stated matter-o-factly. Now that your obviously strong enough not only to walk but to carry me across the field, like the damsel in distress that I was, covered in straw no less. We will start training together. But for now, I'm exhausted. It's the middle of the night and I've had a maker damned day." You took a chance and leaned up into him, pressing your lips against his cheekbone with your hands on his chest, holding them there for a few seconds you felt him go ridged.

Turning on the ball of your foot you wandered back into your bedroom. "Goodnight Maul." You called without turning to see his reaction.

He held the place on his cheek where your kiss landed just before, mind reeling and melting at the same time. "Goodnight Y/N," he murmured. Not leaving his spot.

#maul fluff #darth maul #star wars maul #maul x reader #jedi knight #sith warrior #star wars #grey jedi #star wars fluff #starwars au #x reader #starwars x reader #jedi reader #reader insert

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zodiyack · 4 years

Text

Should I Stay Or Should I Go

Pairing: Jonathan Byers x Female!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, teen angst, fluff, a smol mature reference?

Words: 1,834

Summary: Her mom’s boyfriend practically ruins and controls her life, going as far as to force them to move. It doesn’t sit well with the couple, and they both have their own way of solving it.

Song: Should I Stay Or Should I Go by The Clash

Key: Lyrics = Bold + Italic, Memories (and sometimes emphasis/thoughts) = Italic

Note: I’m sorry if it sucks, I liked the ending with the song, so I tried to make a full story, and...I just don’t like it as much as the ending lol it doesn’t help that i’ve tried writing a section every other day...it’s hard to get it to make sense when you do that oop

Taglist: @matth1w, @redspaceace, @fandom-puff, @darling-i-read-it

Masterlist | Stranger Things Masterlist

Darling, you got to let me know, Should I stay or should I go? If you say that you are mine; I'll be here 'til the end of time. So you got to let me know, Should I stay or should I go?

Listening to random artists, genres, pretty much just music, was pretty much everything they had done all day. Jonathan made a mix-tape for his girlfriend, his and her favorite songs in a randomized order on the cassette tape. It was the second one he’d made, and he was eager to have her listen to it.

Practically shoving past Y/n’s mother and into his girlfriend’s room was the first thing he’d done upon arriving. The second being putting the cassette tape into the player, and the third informing Y/n on what it was.

"You hungry?” Y/n sat up, giggling softly as Jonathan played with the socks covering her feet, a small tickle against her feet every now and then. He nodded and moved his arms, allowing her to hop off her bed and walk to the kitchen. “Oh- hey mom.”

Her mother was at the kitchen counter. Even though she was dressed to cook, something had clearly been on her mind as she was just leaning against the surface and squinting her eyes while she stared into space. The distraction was powerful, from what Y/n could tell, because when she greeted her mother, she made a startled yelp and jumped slightly.

“Sweetie! I uh...I need to talk to you... Could you please send Jonathan home?” Y/n hesitated, but nodded. She left to get her boyfriend, returning and giving him a kiss after he put his shoes back on. “Oh, Jonathan! Could you please tell your mother I said hello?”

“Of course.” He smiled shyly, “Thank you for having me over, Mrs. L/n.”

“Anytime! Thank you for coming, Jonathan!” She waited until he left to turn and ask Y/n to sit down for a moment. “I...Well, I- um...”

“Mom? If you need a moment, I can wait-”

“No! I just...I’ve decided to start seeing people again and...I’ve got a boyfriend daring!”

Y/n stared at her mom for a second or two, then began laughing. Her mother was shy but happy and wanted her daughter to be happy for her. Happy for the fact that she was recovering from the divorce. That, Y/n could understand, but she couldn’t help but laugh.

“That’s great mom! Is he cute?”

The woman blushed, biting her lower lip as she leaned back on the counter nervously. “Yes... That’s not all I’d like to talk about though....I want to invite him for dinner.”

“Really? Okay, I’ll go hang out with the Byers’ so you guys can have some priva-”

“No, sweetie...I want to invite him to eat dinner with us. The both of us.”

It's always tease, tease, tease, You're happy when I'm on my knees. One day it's fine and next it's black. So if you want me off your back, Well, come on and let me know, Should I stay or should I go?

"How was it?”

“He’s an asshole!!” She flopped onto her back, a pained, but faux, expression covered her features. Jonathan laughed, moving stray hairs out of her face and smiling brightly. “What? Do I got somethin’ on my face?”

“No... You’re just...” He lifted his camera from it’s spot- dangling off his neck, and to his eye. The clicks sounded as he shot photos of Y/n, smiling to himself as he looked through the lens. “Beautiful.”

“Yeah yeah, keep stroking my ego camera-man. But like I was saying, he’s a dick!”

“No,” he lowered his camera, “you said asshole.”

She rolled her eyes and smiled back at him. “Shut up.”

“Only if you make me.”

Taking his quip as a challenge, she grabbed his head and began to pull him down. Her eyes looked into his with genuine interest. Their lips came close to touching and-

“Y/n! Your mom’s on the phone!!”

The couple sighed and pulled apart. “Thank you, Joyce!” She frowned to Jonathan, pecking his lips and walking out of his room. But she didn’t leave with out quirking a brow, a corner of her mouth lifting as well, and adding quietly, “10 pm. My window or yours?”

Should I stay or should I go now? Should I stay or should I go now? If I go, there will be trouble, And if I stay it will be double, So come on and let me know

This indecision's bugging me. If you don't want me, set me free. Exactly whom I'm supposed to be, Don't you know which clothes even fit me? Come on and let me know, Should I cool it or should I blow?

Split!

"I have to go.”

“What?”

“He’s making us move.” Her mom’s boyfriend decided he’d had enough with Hawkins, especially after he’d caught Jonathan sneaking into Y/n’s room. From then on, he called her things like slut, bitch and whore. The night she’d told Jonathan about it, he joked, but with 100% seriousness, “it’s like he’s never heard of a teenager, or even been one for that matter.”

Their argument had escalated.

“Why? He shouldn’t get to decide what you or your mom have to or get to do, you’re almost an adult and your mom’s an adult, I don’t see why he’s all of a sudden the boss.”

“That’s exactly what I said! But- my mom agreed...we’re moving next week.”

His expression dropped. “Next week?”

“Next week.” Y/n repeated as confirmation.

Jonathan held her gaze for a moment or two before rolling his eyes and running and through his hair, “That’s bullshit.”

“E-excuse me?”

“It’s bullshit. You could ask your mother if you could live here with us or something, or even run away, you have so many choices, but you choose to give up and go with that- that- that dick?”

“Yes! Because, like you said, I’m almost an adult. Not an adult, almost. I can’t just leave my mom with him either-”

“All I’m getting is that you’re either a dumbass or just a coward. Either way, you’re his bitch, and you’ll always be his bitch if you don’t learn how to tell him no.” He was acting out emotionally, the words extreme and unintended.

And while Y/n knew that, her heart couldn’t take too much. “I’m not, his bitch.” She stormed out of the Byers house, thanking Joyce in a rush, and hopped into her car, slamming the door shut tightly. Inside the car, with much more privacy, she sighed and wiped her hands down her face, attempting to control her breathing.

Attempting to no avail, at that. She slammed her fist on the wheel a couple times, tears running down her cheeks as she let out pained-whimper-like-sounds. Then, having just let some of the anger out, she breathed in deeply, exhaled, and repeated a couple times before driving back home.

“I can get Jonathan-”

“Thanks, Mrs. Byers...but...he and I aren’t really...on speaking terms...” She averted her gaze. The time from the rest of the week had effected her appearance and nearly everything about her.

She hadn’t slept, noticeable by the bags below her eyes, she had a hard time thinking straight, noticeable for many reasons, eating was a problem as well- some nights she’d eat her snacks like they were a buffet, and others she’d just poke and stare at it with a bland expression.

Joyce studied her more, not quite letting her get off her ‘mom-radar’ this time. Curse the upside down, curse it taking Will, and curse the Mind Flayer. Joyce’s ability to notice when someone’s lying or hiding something practically heightened after everything that happened in the upside down. “A-are you alright, sweetie?”

“Mhm...”

“Mom, have you seen- Oh.” Jonathan walked into the room, perfect timing. “Y/n. Are you...moving today?”

“Uh- yeah...I just...I wanted to...” It’d been so awkward after their fight.

“Here, sweetie, you go talk in his room, I’ll stay out here and get some stuff for you and your mom.” She couldn’t argue, as Joyce was already leading them to Jonathan’s room.

“So...”

“So.”

They kept quiet as an awkward tension filled Jonathan’s room. A minute went by, still full of silence.

Two minutes.

Three minutes.

Four minutes.

Five minutes.

Y/n thought to herself, ‘what if I did something I’d regret?’

Six minutes.

Jonathan had pondered as well, ‘it’s the last time I’ll see her...’

Seven minutes.

Their eyes, puffy from crying, met.

Eight minutes.

Y/n and Jonathan now fully faced each other.

Nine minutes.

They both talked to their inner thoughts, saying the same thing unknowingly;

‘do it.’

Ten minutes-

Their lips met in a feverish kiss, one that probably would’ve finished with clothes strewn about and a bed shaking under the weight of two bodies made one had Joyce not stepped in to drop off two mugs for both teens.

“Oh!” The shock was evident in her voice before she began to laugh a little. Both Y/n and Jonathan had pulled away in an instant as they realized their position. “Well I’m glad you’ve made up!” She set the mugs down and began to leave the room, “Wait! I forgot, Y/n, your mom said to be home in five.”

Y/n thanked Joyce and waited until she closed the door, then pulled Jonathan in for another kiss. He was the one to pull away, and intentionally this time. “Before you go, I need you to know something.”

Her arms still relaxed around his neck. “What is it?”

“Remember when I called you his...”

“Yeah.”

“I- uh- ...I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean any of what I said that night. I was just- ...I was scared. I am scared...”

“Why?”

“Because...I don’t want to lose you. But I want you to be happy, with your mom.”

She scrunched her brows, growing more confused as he tried to explain why he felt the way he felt.

He wanted her to be happy, which she was when she was with him- so it didn’t make much sense, but he didn’t want to lose her, which she returned the feelings about.

“I’m happy with you, Jonathan. I love you, so so much. I promise, one day, I’ll try something. I’ll visit you or maybe run away with you, I’ll do something. I promise, okay?” He nodded, holding her close to him for the few minutes they had left.

Should I stay or should I go now? Should I stay or should I go now? If I go there will be trouble, And if I stay it will be double; So ya gotta let me know, Should I cool it or should I blow?

He never let her see Jonathan. In fact, he specifically forbid her, like he had the authority to do that, from seeing or calling or even writing to him. Her ass of a step-father had pushed her last button, and she was centimeters away from snapping.

Y/n revved her engine, hesitating in her choice. She could go, or she could stay.

If she left, her mother would be heartbroken and her step-father would blame her if she were to ever return home.

If she stayed, she’d miss out on being with the love of her life, likely making him think she decided she didn’t love him despite telling him so.

Then again, she couldn’t take another day with that bastard of a step-father.

Adjusting the mirror in the front of the car, she took one last look at her step-father’s home, revving the engine louder until he came outside. He shouted at her, but the stereo, which blasted The Clash from the mix-tape Jonathan had made her, and her engine drowned out his voice.

Y/n removed her eyes from his reflection, focusing on the road and picturing herself in Jonathan’s arms again.

And how he’d been right.

She was acting like her stepdad’s bitch. But Y/n snapped out of it, just like Jonathan had said she could. She was done being his bitch. She was done letting him be such a dick to her. She was done letting him prevent her from being happy.

“Fuck you, asshole.” With a smirk upon her lips and a jump of her heart, she pressed on the gas.

Should I stay or should I go now? If I go there will be trouble, And if I stay it will be double; So ya gotta let me know me tienes que decir, Should I stay or should I go?

#jonathan byers #jonathan byers x reader #charlie heaton #charlie heaton x reader #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things reader insert #reader insert #x reader #all readers #the clash #should i stay or should i go #byers #will byers #joyce byers #feelin' creative- might delete later #someone slap me the next time I think about chickening out of posting a fic #pls

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mamabearcat · 3 years

Text

Hungry Ghosts

I didn’t get a chance to write anything for Halloween this year like I planned. But here’s a spooky excerpt from The Importance of Ramen, parts of chapters 7 and 8. If you haven’t read it, I think there’s enough context there for you to work out what’s going on. Hope everyone’s Halloween is going as well as it can this year!

Inuyasha went back inside the hut. The others were still asleep, but he cleaned out the firepit, replacing the slightly damp logs from last night with fresh kindling. He had the fire going and Kagome's kettle filled with water for tea by the time she returned. One look at her face had him realising that something was wrong.

She was leaning against the doorframe, sweat beading on her forehead and upper lip. "Sorry… I'm… okay. I'm okay. Squatting down just hurt my leg a little more than I thought it would."

Without a word, he walked over to her and picked her up, carrying her back to the small nest made by her empty sleeping bag. After seating her carefully on the softly padded surface, he placed his hand on her forehead again.

Kagome tried to weakly bat his hand away. "Stop fussing Inuyasha. I told you I'm fine. It's the first time I've walked on this leg since yesterday; it was bound to hurt a bit." She plastered a smile on her face. "Look, I'll even drink more of that disgusting tea if it will stop you making a big deal out of nothing."

Inuyasha, ignored her hand, taking in her sweaty face and pale complexion. "You're not fine, wench. You had a slight fever when you woke up this morning, and it's already a little worse. Let me look at those wounds of yours to make sure they're not infected."

The commotion had woken Miroku and Sango. Miroku brought the first aid kit over, while Sango mixed more of the herbal tea that Kagome had drunk last night. Kagome rolled her eyes and sighed but decided it would be less trouble to let everyone fuss.

Inuyasha carefully unwrapped the bandages on Kagome's upper left arm, being cautious of the still healing bruise below her elbow. He gently slid his clawed forefinger underneath the tape and gauze on one side of the wound and then the other, cutting through so he could lift the gauze off her wound. The skin around the deep cut was pink, but he could see that the wound was healing nicely, beginning to knit the muscle back together. He gave it a good sniff, just to make sure.

"This one's okay", he said. He moved aside so Sango could rub some of the healing cream from Kagome's first aid kit around the wound and redress it.

He moved towards Kagome's thigh on the other side and was surprised when she placed a defensive hand in front of it. "Kagome, I need to check."

"Sorry", she flushed, moving her hand out of the way. "I'm being a big wuss. This one just hurts a little more".

He placed his hand on the bandage and immediately knew the news wasn't good. "Kagome, this one's infected", he sighed. "I can feel the heat coming through the bandage without even looking at it."

"Dammit", muttered Kagome. "I was sure the saline would combat that."

Inuyasha removed the bandage even more gently than he had the previous one. Kagome kept herself as still as possible, making no sound, but her lowered brows and tight expression told the story of how much pain she was actually in. She whimpered a little as Inuyasha lifted the gauze away from the wound and drew in a deep breath.

"Fuck Kagome, no wonder it was hurting". The skin around the deeper puncture wound was bright red and shiny, the swelling spreading outwards around her thigh, pulling against the edges of the weeping gash. Red lines at the edge of the swelling streaked upwards on her leg. Inuyasha barely had to sniff to scent the smell of infection in her leg.

Sango peered over Inuyasha's shoulder at Kagome's thigh, and her face grew grim. "Take her back through the well, Inuyasha. She needs to get to a healer in her time as soon as possible." She gestured towards the red streaks travelling up Kagome's thigh. "These marks are a sign of a deep infection. I've seen them on other Taijiya who have been injured. Some of them recovered, but most …" She took a deep breath. "The infection grew rapidly worse no matter what our healers did. All they could do was ease their pain. Once they became confused and lost consciousness, we knew that they would never recover."

Kagome looked at them both, wide-eyed. "Don't you think you're being a little overly dramatic, Sango?", she chuckled weakly. "I mean, I just got back, and we need to get back on the jewel shard hunt. I'm sure if I just rest for today, then tomorrow, I'll be fine." She took in Inuyasha and Sango's serious expressions and looked towards Miroku. "Miroku, tell them that I just need some rest, and then we can all get going again."

Miroku squatted down next to Kagome, holding the mug of herbal tea that Sango had prepared a few minutes ago. "Now, Kagome", he said, his usual calm smile a contrast to the anxious grimace on Kagome's face, "what sort of elder brother would I be if I counselled against a course of action that would have you healing faster?"

He pushed the tea into her unwilling hands, smiling encouragingly as she forced herself to sip the bitter liquid. "If it's just simple rest that you need, surely a rest in your own time in a comfortable bed under your mother's loving care will speed your recovery. And, if as Sango suggests, a trip to a healer is required, that should not trouble you if you know it will bring your family here peace of mind. I'm sure if Inuyasha puts his mind to it, he could have you home before dark."

He looked questioningly at Inuyasha, who nodded brusquely. Miroku leaned closer to Sango, who was still leaning over Inuyasha's shoulder. "Do not trouble yourself about the rest of us while you're gone, we will muddle along together just fine." A sudden resounding slap, as Sango backhanded Miroku across the cheek, startled Kagome then had her giggling. Obviously, his wandering hand had been unable to resist the temptation of Sango's pert derriere as she leant forward.

Inuyasha rolled his eyes at the pair's familiar antics, but didn't move from his spot beside Kagome, as Sango knelt to begin the process of rewrapping the wound in Kagome's thigh. He removed the tea from Kagome's tense hands and placed the mug on the floor, so it would not be spilt, and held her hands in his own instead. His ears drooped and laid flat on his head at the quiet whimpers escaping through Kagome's clenched teeth as Sango cleaned and packed the wound with fresh gauze.

"Looks like we're goin' on another run, wench", he said quietly. He cleared his throat, trying to force a cheery note into his voice. "Maybe if I get ya home early enough, your mother will have time to make that crunchy chicken stuff. The one Souta likes so much. What's it called again?"

"Karaage" muttered Kagome through compressed lips. She really wanted to smile at Inuyasha's attempts to take her mind off what Sango was doing, but her leg hurt so badly, even worse than when the beetle had first gouged the hole in her leg. She tried her best, gasping a little. "It's a shame she doesn't know we're coming; she might have bought steak for you."

He grinned. "Now that would be worth runnin' back for." He tried not to wince as Kagome dug her blunt fingernails into his palms as Sango tightened the bandage on her thigh.

"All done", said Sango, using some of the special cleaning gel on her hands after she had rinsed them in the water pail as Kagome had taught her. She repacked the medical kit, as Miroku and the now awake Shippou bustled about making breakfast, cooking rice and making tea.

"Drink your tea Kagome", encouraged Inuyasha, letting go of her hands to pick up the mug.

She flapped her hand at him. "Gimme a minute", she panted. "I feel like I'm gonna… gonna…" Her eyes suddenly widened as her palm slapped over her mouth. Inuyasha had the good sense to let go of the mug and grab the almost empty water pail next to Kagome, tipping the water out and thrusting it in front of her face just in time. Sango padded back over to scoop Kagome's long hair out of the way into a tail over her shoulder, rubbing her back comfortingly as Kagome hurled what was left of last night's dinner into the pail in front of her.

"Hnn, that was so gross", moaned Kagome. "I'm so sorry." She spat one last time into the bucket, then wiped her mouth with a damp cloth offered by Sango. Embarrassment flooded her face, and she hung her head. Inuyasha dipped his head down sideways until it was almost perpendicular with the floor, so he could look see her expression.

"What's with that face, wench?" he questioned, looking at her narrowed eyes and downturned mouth.

Kagome looked up, her eyes blazing in her sweaty pale face. "Do you really have to ask?", she fired back. "I got targeted by a demon again, got myself injured, and now you're gonna have to babysit me and take me home. And to top it all off, I just ruined everyone's breakfast by chucking up in front of them while they were eating."

Inuyasha grunted. "First of all, the beetle was after the shard, not you, and the way it grabbed you took everyone by surprise, me included. Second, yes, I am takin' you home, but you ain't no baby and if you sit me on the way there, I will not be happy. And" he said, glancing over his shoulder and taking in Miroku calmly sipping tea while Sango served herself rice and Shippou and Kirara continued chewing, "breakfast don't look ruined to me."

Shippou's wide eyes took everything in as he continued munching on his rice ball. "Ish Kagmee gna ee mmk?", he asked Miroku, barely coherent behind the large mouthful of rice he was still chewing.

"She will be fine. Inuyasha will make sure of it by taking her back through the well and letting healers in her time assess her injury", replied Miroku comfortingly, patting the kit on the head as he continued to drink his tea.

Inuyasha sat down with them and began shovelling rice into his mouth, sculling hot tea as quickly as he could. Sango's assessment of Kagome's wound had him worried. Put an enemy in front of him that was threatening Kagome, and he would give his all to take it down, no sweat, but infection was a battle he couldn't fight for her. His mind went back to an image of long ago, his own hand tiny in the sweaty clasp of his mother's, her eyes closed as she struggled for every breath while the infection in her lungs fought to defeat her. Darkness and cold. She was so cold. He pushed the thought away.

"Miroku, Sango, you may as well go back to Kaede's while we're gone. That way I can come back through the well and let you know she's okay." Miroku and Sango nodded. "I'm gonna go over the mountain instead of around, that should take about two hours off my time."

"Over Mount Mitsumine?", asked Miroku. Inuyasha nodded, tapping his foot impatiently as Sango tied some extra rice balls and a flask of water into a cloth for him to carry in case Kagome grew hungry or thirsty later.

Miroku was puzzled – his mind was tickling him, trying to feed him information pertinent to the shrine on Mount Mitsumine, but he couldn't quite remember. He made an angry tsking noise; it was just out of reach, and he was sure it was something of importance.

Inuyasha squatted down in front of Kagome with his back facing her. She had done her best with the tea, taking a few more sips, but looked sweaty and tired, and Inuyasha felt his concern for her rising. He pushed it down again.

"Okay Kagome, the faster we leave, the faster you can be home sleepin' in that girly pink bed a yours" he teased, as she slowly eased herself forward, draping her arms over his shoulders. Instead of holding onto her thighs as he usually did, he created a seat under her bottom for her by interlocking his fingers behind his back. He straightened himself up slowly, bouncing her slightly, getting her into position. Kagome buried her face in his hair, whimpering in pain at the pressure his forearm put on her swollen thigh. "Shit, this ain't gonna work". He was going to have to carry her in front of him again, but it was hard on his arms, and would slow them down as they went over the mountain.

Shippou's worried face brightened, and he whispered in Sango's ear. "Wait, Inuyasha, Shippou's had a really good idea!" Sango spoke to Miroku and he dropped a few coins into her hand. She bolted out the door and came back a short time later with a long piece of thickly woven indigo fabric.

"What the fuck's that for?" Inuyasha grunted. Sango motioned for Inuyasha to bend down again, then motioned for Kagome to climb onto Inuyasha's back. She put the top centre of the piece of long cloth over Kagome, up near her neck, and tucked the rest of the width underneath Kagome's bottom, creating a pocket for her to sit in. She drew the long tails of fabric up over Inuyasha's shoulders, wrapping them under his arms, and then under and over Kagome's legs on each side, pulling the tails firmly back around to the front. She held onto the fabric and motioned for Inuyasha to stand. He did so cautiously, worried that Kagome would fall, but to his surprise, she was held in tightly to his back by the fabric and felt lighter than she usually did.

"You 'kay Kagome?", he asked, trying to look over his shoulder at her.

Kagome rested her head on his shoulder. The fabric had her snuggled in tight against his back and was supporting her leg without pushing on the wound too much.

"Yeah, I'm good", she murmured. Sango tied the long tails of fabric around Inuyasha's waist, being careful to make the knot above the Tessaiga so he would still be able to draw it if required.

"Now you have your arms free if you need them", she grinned. "It was Shippou's idea – he reminded me how busy mamas carry their children when they need to get stuff done. I used to… to carry Kohaku like this when he was little, when my mother and father were away on a raid and I needed to practice my drills". She smiled a little tearfully at the picture Inuyasha and Kagome made. "He always seemed very comfortable that way – he usually went to sleep when I wore him like this." Sango tucked the small tied cloth of food into the top of the wrap near Kagome's shoulder. "Now you're all set to go".

"Thanks Sango. Thanks runt – you did good." Inuyasha paused to ruffle the fox kit's fluffy red fringe and Shippou beamed under the rare praise. After a final nod to Miroku, Inuyasha ran out the door, slowly at first, until he grew to trust that Kagome wouldn't fall. He sped up and was soon out of sight.

Sango and Shippou finished up their breakfast and began tidying everything into Kagome's gigantic backpack. Sango looked sideways at Miroku, who was still muttering to himself. "What's up?", she asked.

"There was something about the shrine at Mount Mitsumine", muttered Miroku, "but I can't quite…" Suddenly he stopped, looking apprehensively at Sango. "Oh no. Hidarugami! I remember hearing from a traveller that they haunt the trail near the shrine!" Sango stared at him, open mouthed.

Overhearing the conversation, Shippou nodded, familiar with this particular entity. "Ah. Good thing they took some rice balls with them."

👻 👻 👻

Inuyasha ran like the wind, his feet pounding the ground as regular as a heartbeat. He could feel that Kagome had dozed off, the gentle sway of the fabric hammock she was supported in easing her pain a little. Inuyasha smiled. The runt did have some good ideas occasionally. He would just keep going until she woke, get as much ground covered as he could. They were already nearly up the mountain, the zig zagging trail no match for the sure footed hanyou.

The dappled light under the trees kept away the summer heat, and the splashing water from the little waterfall they were currently passing was refreshing. Brightly coloured finches flew overhead, flying through the spray in an effort to keep cool. He could keep going for a few more hours yet without needing to take a break. He could see the brightly coloured gate of Mitsumine Shrine up ahead. They just needed to get through this narrow-wooded part first and then the path down the other side of the mountain would open out, as more travellers from Edo used that road to make a pilgrimage to the mountain shrine.

Suddenly he felt like he'd hit a wall. Weakness caused his limbs to tremble and he dropped to one knee, staggering, trying to keep his balance with Kagome on his back. What the fuck was going on! His throat felt dry and cracked, his stomach clenched in on itself like hadn't eaten in weeks. He lurched to his feet and forced himself to keep moving, but each step dragged like something was siphoning off every ounce of energy he'd ever possessed.

Inuyasha growled in outrage. He would not let whatever this barrier was beat him. He would keep going. Kagome needed him to keep going. He heard her moan softly behind him, and it gave him the will to take a few more steps before his legs faltered and he slammed into the ground face first.

"Gome", he whispered, turning his face away from the sandy dirt of the mountain pass, his sandpaper dry throat cracking what was left of his voice, "you 'kay?" She moaned softly again, and against his will, Inuyasha's eyes rolled back in his head. The cheerful birds continued their twittering, splashing in the puddles left by the side of the waterfall, paying no heed to the pair collapsed on the path beside them.

👻 👻 👻

Kagome was jolted out of her doze as Inuyasha staggered beneath her, dropping to one knee. A sudden wash of fear prickled the back of her neck as the dappled sunlight around them was swallowed up; she could no longer see the path ahead, and the air was suffocatingly silent.

Turning towards the waterfall her panic grew as she realised that the previously tumbling water was still. The little finches hung motionless in mid-air, the droplets of mist they had been flying through only moments before hovering as if gravity had ceased to exist. They were caught in a bubble outside time, and she had no clue what had caused it. Kagome shivered, about to question Inuyasha about what had caused his stumble, when a slight movement in the trees caught her eye; she saw them.

She felt almost paralysed by bone deep terror as the shadowy forms approached from the darkened edges of her vision. There was movement on both sides of the path, they were surrounded, but it was difficult to see any details of what they were or to count how many as they shifted in and out of the darkness. Ten, twelve maybe? Whatever they were, they gave off an undeniably menacing aura.

This wasn't good. Her bow had been left with Miroku and Sango, not that she would be able to shoot with her injured arm, and she didn't have much experience channelling her miko abilities without the focus of an arrow. Her hands and arms were tucked in tightly to her chest; she could try to wriggle them free with an effort but was worried that would throw off Inuyasha's tottering balance.

Then Kagome realised that she wouldn't be able to bring her reiki to her hands anyway, not without injuring Inuyasha. She clenched her shaking fingers into fists tight against Inuyasha's back, unable to do anything but watch and wait as the pack of unknown foes came forward into the dim light and circled around them. Kagome felt bile burn its way into the back of her throat. She had already felt ill, but to see these things up close…

Empty sockets where eyes once where, skin stretched taut over bone they advanced, lipless mouths leering in delight at the fear of their prey. Ragged kimonos and wisps of hair fluttering in a ghostly breeze of their own making, they floated around Kagome and Inuyasha, no feet to tie them to the earth. Some appeared to have lost their kimonos entirely, clothed only in tattered fundoshi, bone white skin as tight as a drum over ribs, stomachs distended with malnutrition and split with decay.

As they approached in an ever-tightening circle, the ominous silence was replaced by sibilant whispers of hunger and death. Inuyasha staggered to his feet, moving forward on the path, but how could he, when the path was no longer there? She heard him growl in rage as he struggled forwards, and she couldn't help but let out a small moan of horror as she felt the slight brush of ragged cloth against her cheek as one of them glided towards her.

The spectre reached out a bony hand and caressed Kagome's dark hair, running her locks through its skeletal fingers almost as a lover would. The head sagged on an inhumanely long neck, and the eyeless creature licked where its lips once were, tongue blackened and swollen. "You will join usss", it whispered, bending its head close to her ear and she shuddered, recoiling at the unwanted touch. She almost screamed as the dry tongue curved along the rim of her ear. "Join usss, in hunger, join usss in death."

The spectre's head lolled forward as it turned its eyeless gaze towards Inuyasha. The realisation suddenly hit her that he couldn't see the spirits; had no idea of the threat they were facing. Before she could free her arm to try and knock the spectre's hand away, it reached out towards Inuyasha's face as he grimly struggled to keep moving forwards, a light touch sweeping across his mouth and nose. Kagome would have shrieked if she was not already breathless with horror as Inuyasha pitched forward suddenly, slamming them both into the damp sandy earth of the mountain path.

She watched as Inuyasha dragged his face sideways in the dirt, his beautiful amber eyes clouded in pain. "Gome, you 'kay?" he asked, his voice raspy. She wanted to answer, to give him some reassurance, but could only produce a small sound of fear.

What should she do? How could she fight back? She didn't want to accidentally purify Inuyasha with her reiki; she didn't even know what these things were, just that they spoke of hunger and death and that she was terrified of them. Inuyasha's eyes suddenly rolled back in his head, and with horror she felt his breathing become shallow, his heartbeat slowing with every beat. She was frantic. He was going to die, here on this path, and she was powerless.

A small thought swelled in her mind, bright as a bead. 'You are not powerless. You are a shrine maiden, a miko.' Pulling together her last vestiges of courage, Kagome closed her eyes, and imagined a thin beam of reiki that rose up into the air then spread outwards like an umbrella, forming a bubble of protection around herself and Inuyasha. She had no idea if her effort was affecting these things, and her mind churned, searching every memory for an inkling of what these creatures might be, trying not to weep at the sound of Inuyasha's rattling breath. She didn't think they were demons. Not demons, but dead things. Dead things on a deserted path, that wanted them to join them in death. Hungry dead things. Hungry ghosts. A long-forgotten memory suddenly unfolded.

Her father was whistling cheerfully, preparing for a weekend hike with his friends. She was sitting on the kitchen counter nearby, swinging her little legs. One by one, she handed him his first aid supplies to be packed into his backpack, and she grinned in excitement at being considered old enough to help Daddy while Mama went outside to hang out the washing. Grandpa had come into the kitchen to make tea. He rifled through the pantry and grabbed a package of mochi, pushing them into her father's hands.

"Don't forget my son, you should take these with you. It's always better to be safe than sorry when walking on a mountain path." Her father had rolled his eyes and then winked at her, but willingly packed the mochi into his backpack.

"Don't worry father, I'll be sure to be on the lookout for hungry ghosts."

Hungry ghosts. She vaguely remembered legends about those that died far from home during famine times. Their lack of proper burial caused them to wander in continued pain and hunger, and they lingered on deserted paths to force others to join them in death. That had to be what these things were! But how did you get rid of them? Was she meant to recite a prayer?

She gritted her teeth at her lack of knowledge; she was sure that Miroku would know this. Why had her grandfather suggested that her father carry mochi? Maybe it was something to do with food. Did you feed them, or yourself?

Using her last reserves of energy, Kagome wiggled her arms that were pinned by the tight wrap against Inuyasha's back, panting with the effort of maintaining the barrier. Managing to free them enough to reach the cloth that Sango had tied the rice balls and bottled water in, she frantically scrabbled to untie the knot with numb fingers, her terror rising as Inuyasha's laboured breaths stilled - then began again, now so shallow that they were almost a sigh.

'Gotta hurry, gotta hurry!' She was gasping in her haste, hoping against hope that the barrier that she'd tried to erect was keeping the ghosts at bay. There were two rice balls. She broke one in half and stuffed a chunk into Inuyasha's lax mouth and the other half in her own, then hurled the remaining rice through the paper-thin barrier at the spectres looming over them. After gulping down her own rice, she stroked Inuyasha's face and neck with shaking fingers. His usually tan skin was paper white, a bluish tinge spreading around his mouth and nose.

"Inuyasha, swallow. You have to swallow the rice." Hysterical tears rolled down Kagome's panic-stricken face, dripping onto his hair and cheeks as her voice grew more shrill. "Inuyasha! Please, please wake up. Stay here with me, don't go with them!" She tried tilting his head back by pushing on his chin, hoping it would cause a swallowing reflex, but terrified that in his unresponsive state she would force him to choke. Her panicked voice and stroking must have reached him on some level; his throat moved slightly as he swallowed a small morsel of rice without opening his eyes.

As if a switch had been flicked, the horror was gone.

It was a beautiful summer's day. Birds chirped cheerfully, flying through the rainbow hued spray thrown up by the gurgling waterfall, splashing noisily in the puddles, twittering their enjoyment. Noticing the cooked rice now scattered on the path, they swooped, squabbling and pecking, eager to take advantage of an easy meal. The dappled sunlight patterned the ground around them, leaves swaying in the breeze, and the delicate green of the forest framed the colourful gate of the shrine clearly visible up ahead.

Kagome dropped her head to Inuyasha's shoulder and sobbed quietly, releasing the barrier as the intense fear gradually ebbed away. She felt utterly drained. She took comfort in Inuyasha's heart beating steady and true beneath her, his back muscles moving rhythmically with each firm inhale and exhale of air. Her sobs suddenly turned to giggles when Inuyasha popped open an eye and spat the remaining rice out of his mouth, coughing and spluttering a little, wiping at his face. Rising on his elbow, he turned to look over his shoulder at her, growling his annoyance. "Kagome, why is there fucking rice up my nose?!"

#the importance of ramen #inukag fanfic #hidarugami #Mamabearcat fanfic

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guigz1-coldwar · 3 years

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'An lot of things ' : New chapter for "Redemption in a Spirit in a Cold War" is out !

"An lot of things"

Chapter Summary : After talks in her head with 'Bell' & Lazar while the others were saving her, Yirina could finally awake, free from 2 weeks of been an Perseus prisoner.....and she has an lot of things to say....

Link of the Picrew used !

To read it on AO3, click here !

Words : +3000

Taglist : @snowgoldwaylon , @clxudtea , @efingart

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Again....I have to wait again....again. I don't know in fact if they managed to save me....or they failed but I'm still thinking so they must have succeeded. When the safehouse disappeared along with Lazar...with everything, it could have probably means that they were getting at the end of the operation to save me. I don't know how but during that long wait, I could have swear that in the back of my head, their voices...I could hear them perfectly at sometimes, trying to keep me alive, to ensure that me, Yirina Grigoriev, will open her eyes again after I passed out and continue to live....

And that what I could feel in my body when, after an very long time of patience, my eyes could finally open slowly, still blurry before discovering where I was now. It was an medical room, the one of the safehouse of Verdansk, me in an sort of hospital bed, still dressed in the same clothes I had for 2 weeks now with the slight difference that bandages were felt below an new shirt that replaced the bloody one, right on the gunshot wound at an few centimeters from my heart, that pain still present.

However, there were no one present in the room except me....&....& Park, laid down on another bed, still sleeping and seeing her like that, it was making me mostly sad, fearing for her state since the moment that she passed out in the jeep but it was looking like she was better on her face. I couldn't stay on that medical bed, despite my state. I was maybe feeling an pain in the shoudler but I was able to get out of the bed, going next to Park's one...to be close of her....they took us apart for 2 weeks, only able to see her once in that period.

"Park." I whispered as I was arriving near her bed, posing my hands delicately on it to look at her before I decided to put my right hand on her face, wanting to feel that touch on my fingers. "We did it...we escaped." I repeated my words of hope to her and....she brought an little smile on her face as she was unconscious, maybe having heard me or dreaming of me.....an smile that I missed.

Honestly, I wanted to take her in my arms, tell her how much I love her and stay with her but....I didn't want to worsen her state, preferring to let her wake up properly before actually doing this with her. As I was so much thinking of her, I was remember Lazar's suggestion in my head....'ask her hand'....it was an good idea and I could refind my mother's ring, still inside the same pocket I put it along with Adler's sunglasses. I took it but for the moment, I decided to keep it with me, putting it at my own hand.

"I'm coming back, Park." I said as I decided to let Park alone for the moment, trying to go find the others before putting an little kiss on her forehead and then, starting to walk slowly out of the room.

I thought that I would find someone that were probably going to get here but instead, I was met with nobody in the small hallway that was separating the dorm to the main room and seeming like it was the beginning of the day, it was more likely to find everyone back in where they were all working and when I slowly open the door, I could find an group of them around what I remember to be Woods's office.

"Bullshit !" The first person that I heard inside that room was Woods himself, sounding an bit enthusiatic....but it wasn't because I was here because he didn't see me, no one saw me....must be playing with cards....

"One queen." I then heard Song spoke up, the person that Woods was looking at. "And....two queens !" She then exclaimed when she put her card on the middle of the desk....is that this game Zasha talked about weeks ago ?...

"How in the fucking world ?" Woods complained, almost ready to throw out his own cards away and no one in the room was seeing me as I was arriving near them...slowly. "It's impossible to have two queens in here !" He then start to pick up the cards in the middle.

"You're just an loser or something, Woods ?" Sims scoffed, an smile on his face before I decided to intervene.

"By looking at it, yes !" I replied at Woods place, laughing about it before retracting because of the pain.

"Go fuck yourself, Yirina !" He yelled, sounding very normal before everyone stopped themselves in their moves, all eyes going wide as they were all now looking at me...finally...."My god !" Woods breathed, been the first to go up from his chair, soon followed by Sims, Wolf & Song.

"Good to see you all." I told them as Woods make the first move, going to take me in his arms, wrapping them around me.....an bit firmly. "Woods, my shoulder." I whispered to him as his arms weren't doing very good to me now.

"Oh shit, I'm sorry." He apologized, withdrawing from me with an smile on his face.

"And we all thought to have lose you." Sims proclaimed, moving to shake hands with me, thinking that he wouldn't do like Woods. "You gave to everyone an damn scare." He added after we shook hands.

"But as we see, you're back." Song was the next one, repeating the same process with her before doing the same thing with Wolf.

"Might need some bourbon, would you ?" Wolf proposed gently but I politely refused for that, gesturing that it wasn't an good idea for me.

"I....how is everyone ?" I asked to all like that.

"Oh, we're well !" Sims responded, removing his cap to scratch his forehead as I moved to get sit on an chair near by....from an desk that wasn't even mine...I couldn't remember where it was. "And you ?"

"I can't really say that I'm well to be honest." I claimed even after getting that promised freedom, it was going to take time....an long time before we can...if we can forget about these events. "I'm sure that you want to know what happened."

"If you don't want to tell, it's okay." Woods expressed his worries about what happened during 2 weeks to me & Park but they all needed to know.

"No, it's important." I told him before I looked around the room, only seeing the four of them inside. "Where's Hudson ?" I demanded.

"He took an flight back to the US...he said that he needed to check up Adler's recovery." Wolf answered as the group were also going to sit on their chairs, moving them to get next to me.

"So, Adler is now safe & already away..." I whispered, thinking about him and seeing him, getting treated perfectly by the CIA. "By the way before starting, take those, Sims." I added, wanting to give Adler's sunglasses to him.

"No, you should give them back to him by yourself, it's better." Sims refused to take them, causing me to keep them with me, wondering why Sims wouldn't want them now.

"What happened, Grigoriev ?" Song questioned me, already in the subject.

"Well, it turned out that our mission in the Yamantau was an trap : Hudson set us up." I started and like I predicted, eyes went wide at all sides.

"That's why that fucker flied away, he didn't want to face you after you accused him to set you up." He rolled his eyes around, looking at Hudson's desk in shame.

"We were captured and it seems that we were hold in an Kastovian base at the north of Verdansk." I continued to tell them the story, slowly because I wanted to tell them...everything. "In fact, they didn't try to torture us." I admitted but I know that this was false...they tortured us mentally. "Just at the beginning."

"Only at the beginning ?" Wolf repeated.

"Wolf, let her speak." Sims objected, putting his hand on Wolf's shoulder before making an sign with his head to continue.

"They tried to make me pass some tests...to bring me back." I said, realizing that I couldn't lie anymore. "Okay, I stop to lie now, I need to tell the truth about who I am !"

"Yirina, you don't..."

"I have to do this, Woods." I cut him straight in his words. "I never actually defected from Perseus...well, I wanted to but someone in the CIA saw something else." I took an deep breath and closing my eyes. "Adler actually brainwashed me." I revealed despite that Sims, Woods & Song were already aware of it but not Wolf.

"Brainwashed ?" I could see him move his lips that were basically saying these words.

"I was given an name...Bell." I whispered, mixed about thinking of that name....was it good or bad ? "The CIA were trying to break me into revealing Perseus location and I did tell them but what I gained was an bullet in the head." I exclaimed, pointing at my scar. "I only woke up 4 months ago in an hospital in Moscow."

"Shit but what happened next ?" Wolf asked, curious & shocked.

"I couldn't go back to Perseus, only going back to the CIA....no, I came back to the MI6, to Park." I asserted my choice, knowing that it was the best to do. "During these 4 months, I managed to get an part of my memories back, discovering things about me that I couldn't believe right." I was sounding an little bit happy by saying that, thinking positively. "When they captured me the 2th of June, I had to act as 'Bell' until I cracked after they almost tried to kill Park." I revealed.

"Damnit but what did they try to do ? Who was there ?" Song demanded.

"Adler was there but they must have transferred him away before you can all recover him the 10th of June." I remembered that moment when Stitch, Freya & Knight looked at that video tape. "I know that because....Stitch viewed an tape of your rescue attempts you did." I told them as they were surprised that I was able to know that.

"We should have maybe cleaned up the place more better." Woods muttered, scratching his cheeks but that wasn't his fault.

"I cracked but they were still hoping to have me back so....they tried to brainwash me again." I breathed by saying those words. "They got their hands on the CIA files about me, they tried to use it against me but somehow, it didn't work."

"Wait, you're actually saying that Perseus tried to brainwash you again ?" I nodded at Sims question, surprised to hear that.

"Perseus thought that they have won and they kept their guard low...Wraith was the one who were accompanying me the day before I escaped with Park." I assured them before my thought was on Freya. "Wraith...is in fact my old girlfriend if you all want to know." I preferred to reveal that detail that I hide to everyone and like I thought, eyes went wide again. "Yeah, I know, that's stupid from me to hide that."

"No, not at all." Song reassured me, reajusting herself on her chair.

"To tell the truth, we did escape with the help of someone on their side : Sonya Kuzmin." I told them, mentioning their name but at the second I told it, I felt like a regret, thinking that I should have keep silence about it. "They...uhm...I was wearing an backpack when I arrived here, where is it ?" I literally changed the subject, hoping that no one was going to ask me back about them.

"Got it, don't move." Woods replied, going up from his chair quickly to get the backpack that was on another desk before coming back with it in his hands. "Here you go." He handed me the bag, taking it in my hands.

"I was able to come back with some of my things but...." I stopped myself when I could feel my hands touching Lazar's diary. "Woods, Sims....it belonged to Lazar." I showed them the book, seeing the sad feeling on their eyes.

"Shit." They both mumbled in unison.

"I don't know how they got it but....it's really strange." I gave my opinion on the subject as I wanted to give them the book but both refused to take it, prompting me to put it back in the bag, thinking that I was the one to keep it. "And then....we were able to escape and...everyone knows what happened next." I exclaimed, keeping the bag on my lap, my hands over it.

"That's quite an big story to say." Sims quoted, passing his hands throught his face.

"And about all of you, what happened in 2 weeks ?" I asked them, now wanting to know their side of the story.

"Nothing too big except Adler's rescue 6 days ago." Woods answered, raising his shoulders to me. "On these 2 weeks, we were mostly trying to find out about where you could have been." He added.

"And where's Rivas ?" I questioned them as I thought that she was also here.

"She got wounded 2 days after we saved Adler and Hudson moved her out of the operation for the time being until she recovered and can come back." Wolf was the one to respond to me crossing his arms and looking towards an direction away. "As you & Park got saved, the CIA is going to think to pull us out of Verdansk but with Perseus moves, it's better to say cautious."

"And it's sure that you're going to need help." I proclaimed but Woods shook his head.

"Yeah but you & Park, you're going back to England." He said but it was sure that our state wasn't going to allow us to stay here.

"Yeah, that's logic." I stated.

"To say, we got calls almost everyday from an certain Zasha Smirnov of the MI6." Wolf scoffed, getting my full attention on him at hearing this name.

"Zasha called you ?" I whispered and everyone nodded.

"They were worried as hell and each day, they wanted to get updated about the situation." Sims completed, passing his hand behind his head. "At least now, they know that you were saved."

"They will be people to replace you & Park for the moment but as we think, you will be out for an long time until you can both come back." Woods explained and I nodded, knowing that we got no choices. "I think that it will be an cryptographer from the CIA called Liliya Petrov, is that right, Sims ?" He demanded and Sims nodded.

"You will be leaving tomorrow, we already make calls to the MI6 and for the moment, you & Park take an rest." Sims told me, getting up from his chair. "Like we said, it's making us very happy that you're still alive." He added with an smile before moving his chair back near Woods desk.

"You're right, I should go back with Park." I breathed, also going up from my chair as the others were putting their chairs back to where they took them. "Thank you all again for having saved me." I thanked them.

"We did what we had to do, Yirina." Woods smiled at me before going back to his desk.

"And now, don't be an loser !" I scoffed, seeing him taking back the cards to play their game and I was greeted by an middle finger from him, making me laugh before I start to move away from the room to get back at the medical room.

It was necessary to tell them everything and now, I was able to go back with Park, hoping that she was maybe awake but when I stepped inside the room, she was still sleeping on her bed, making me feel an bit sad to still see her like that. I returned back near her, now holding her left hand in my right one, keeping it with me gently until....I could witness her eyes slowly opening, sending more delight.

"Yiri...." That was her first word that she pronounced and I was already happy to have her back.

"My god, Park." I whispered, my voice filled with emotions and my eyes starting to cry for real, getting taken over by the emotions. "You're here." I added, an smile on my face and looking at our both hands.

"Yes, I'm here." She slowly grinned to me, her eyes rather focused on the ring that was on my right hand. "Is that your mother's ring ?" She asked and I nodded. "It's looking beautiful."

"Thanks." I snorted, quickly passing my hand through my face to clean up any tears on it. "Park, you don't know how much I'm freaking happy to see you back."

"Me too." She affirmed, sharing the same pain. "Not able to see you for days, it was painful." She continued, taking an breath to focus back. "Seeing you but on that stretcher, it brought me back bad memories."

"I know." I muttered, remembering the events 3 years ago. "I don't know how I managed to hold on and to survive the trigger memories." I said. "Both of us....I maybe going to sound like Adler but...we've really been through hell together, we've really fought together, we've...we've really bled together." I admitted, really sounding like Adler but all true in my words.

"But at the end, we succeeded to survive, now awaiting for the next part." She told me silently before she moved aside a little on her bed. "Please, come." She suggested, wanting to have me on her bed and I had to comply, installing myself on the space she did for me on that bed. "I have thought to have lost you for good when I saw you with that bullet wound." She started, moving her arms around me as I did the same with my left arm, posing it above her shoulders.

"I was already accepting my fate but I was convinced." I proclaimed, sounding sadly as I was feeling back that skin with my fingers...it was making me sad & happy at the same time. "I knew that I have to continue fighting for you and for me."

"And you know that we're here, that I'm here for that." She admitted, getting me closer of her as we both exchanged glares, seeing the sadness in our eyes. "Yirina, I love you, I will never abandon you."

"I love you too, you're the only thing that is keeping me alive with my friends." I affirmed proudly as I closed my eyes, finally feeling the freedom to be back with her again after these horrible days....

"They wanted to break us apart but we showed that we are unbreakable....forever !"

#cod bocw #cod cold war #cod black ops cold war #cod cw #call of duty cold war #cod #call of duty #cod bell #black ops cold war #yirina grigoriev #helen park #fem!bell

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brightbeautifulthings · 3 years

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The Dead House by Dawn Kurtagich

"I'm the thing in the dark, just like the Viking used to tell me. I'm the creature coming up from the basement, the thing under the bed. I have nothing to fear in the dark. I am the dark. I am afraid."

Year Read: 2020

Rating: 4/5

About: Carly has a secret that few people know: she shares a body with her sister, Kaitlyn. Carly has the daytime hours, while Kaitlyn has the night, and they have been this way for as long as they can remember. After their parents' deaths, their psychiatrist becomes convinced that Carly suffers from dissociative identity disorder (DID), and she begins treatment to merge their personalities. Yet Kaitlyn is convinced that both of them are real, and Carly's friend Naida suspects that they are two souls sharing the same body. Soon a third, sinister force begins haunting Kaitlyn and causing trouble for them at school. The Dead House tells their story in mixed media format, including Kaitlyn's diary entries, notes between the sisters, police notes, and interviews. Trigger warnings: death (on-page), parent death (off-page), graphic violence, some gore, body horror, severe injury, blood, hospitals, institutionalization, mental illness, DID, depression, eating disorders/anorexia, sexual harassment, grief.

Thoughts: I wavered between three and four stars on this, but if I hesitate that long, I usually round up. The fact is that I liked it quite a bit more than And The Trees Crept In, and I think it's more successful at what it's doing overall. Experimental structures can be hit or miss, but this one mostly works. Is it totally necessary to remove us from the story by placing it in a "recovered" diary and police file? I doubt it. It helps with the ambiguous ending, but there are plenty of ways to avoid closure in more traditional narrative styles. Kurtagich gets around it by fudging the diary/video format in some instances, in my opinion: it doesn't always read like a diary and slips into a more conventional-sounding narrative to place us in the action. I minded that less than the police report notes, which occasionally intrude to tell us how to interpret something instead of leaving it to the reader. I like to form my own conclusions, thank you. But all in all, I think it works fine, and it's a nice YA introduction to less conventional narrative structures.

I really like the premise of the novel, and right away I found myself sympathizing with Carly and Kaitlyn's situation. The book blurb is a little misleading in saying that Kaitlyn is her identical twin; in fact, Carly and Kaitlyn are two distinct personalities sharing the same body, and I like that the novel never chooses a side on whether she has DID or there is something supernatural going on. On that, we are left to draw our own conclusions, and there's evidence to support it either way (though I always prefer supernatural over psychological). We have a clear sense of Kaitlyn's personality from her diary, and I enjoyed her rebelliousness (sometimes for its own sake) and her strong, sisterly bond with Carly. Carly's personality and experiences are more distanced, but I think that works for the plot, and Kaitlyn's reflections do enough to establish their history. Their friends and love interests were mostly background noise for me, but that also helps to emphasize Kaitlyn’s isolation.

Due to the format, the book is pretty fast-paced for its size, and I was absorbed enough to finish it in around 24 hours. In terms of scares, I wanted a little more, but that's almost always the case. Instead, The Dead House does a nice job of building tension and creating atmosphere with the small but escalating changes in Kaitlyn and Carly's situation and Kaitlyn's bizarre and creepy hallucinations of a smiling girl. I really like the way Kurtagich invented her own mythology to address the supernatural (rather than misappropriating another culture's, as Voodoo so often is), and I'm hoping "The Naida Tapes" will fill in a bit more of that. There's a bit of surprisingly graphic gore/body horror, which is probably the most climactic part of the book. The end is a mild letdown. All the horror and suspense have built up but don't quite go anywhere, and it feels like, without the benefit of Kaitlyn's diary, we're sidelined for the actual conclusion. Still, it's a solid YA horror venture and likely something I’ll revisit in the future.

#book review #the dead house #dawn kurtagich #ya horror #4/5 #rating: 4/5 #2020

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breaking-shadows · 3 years

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Breaking Shadows

Chapter 2

The angel left promising he would return soon. He left me alone, with my grandmother very much alive and her soul intact.

I looked at the cuckoo clock mounted on the wall. It had been intricately carved to tell the story of Hansel and Gretel. Creepy, for a witch. The devious children who ate a witch out of house and home and then murdered her for all her generosity.

The hands read nearly four-fifteen.

I imagined sinking into the soft mattress of my bed and curling up in the duvet, but if that happened, I’d be there for the duration. I fell asleep on the sofa, wrapped in a dressing gown, to the low hum of the TV.

The light of breaking dawn woke me before half six.

“Officers attended the scene in Cullfield, a suburb of New York City...”

I peeled open an eyelid. The TV continued to play to itself, showing American-looking police standing by a strip of bright yellow tape.

“...the whole town was found massacred in what eyewitnesses have described as a bloodbath.”

Bolting upright, I grappled for the remote to turn the volume up, heart hammering against my ribcage.

“Police have appealed for witnesses and urge neighbouring towns to be vigilant. We’ll have more on this breaking story as the information comes through. Now, here’s the news wherever you are.” The opening credits rolled for the local news.

Footsteps sounded on the floorboards above. Gran was up. She must be feeling better. I switched off the TV and raced upstairs.

“Gran!” I called. “Gran!”

I caught her leaving my room, eyes puffy and red-ringed, skin grey. The soft grey curls framing her face were wild. She gave a gasp, sucking the air from the room and fell back against the door.

My feet stalled on the top step. “Are you okay?”

Her mouth bobbed struggling to form words that wouldn’t come.

“Gran?”

“Oh my – Riley!” she crossed the few steps between us and wrapped me in her arms, the scent of lavender triggering a dormant headache. One of her hands went to my hair, pulling my head towards her shoulder. Over and over she whispered my name.

Then she pushed me away, holding me at arm’s length. Withered hands cupped my face, her thumbs making downward strokes with her thumbs. She laughed through her tears.

“What did you want me for?”

“Are we not going to talk about this?”

Gran released my face to wipe her wet cheeks with the back of her hand, sniffing away the tears as though they’d never been. “There’s nothing to talk about, Riley. I’m tired, I must not have recovered as much as I’d thought.”

I wanted to tell her she’d be fine, that the illness wouldn’t be rearing its ugly head again, but then she’d want to know why. Even I wasn’t proud about how I’d gone about it, but seeing Gran like this again, well enough to be on her feet or nearly tumbling from them… I’d made the right choice.

“Once more then, what did you want me for?”

What did I want her for? “The news. On the news, there’s something about a massacre in a town on the outskirts of New York. From the sounds of it, it seems like the whole town. I didn’t know if it merited checking out. It could be a coven.”

Gran looked thoughtful. “It’s possible. I have a meeting with our coven this morning, I will raise it, contact other covens there. Even if it wasn’t a coven, something like that may require investigation. Can you remember the name of the place?”

“No, I can’t. But it must be all over the news.”

A weak smile crossed Gran’s face, the one she gave me when I wasn’t being helpful.

“Do you need me to come?”

“Ha! Don’t think you’re getting out of your studies that easily. Talking about school, unless you get a move on, you’re going to be late.”

“Fine. Am I still okay to go out tonight?”

Gran cupped my face in her hands. “Of course, of course. Go Riley, and live.”

I took a swig from the bottle in my hand, grimacing at the bitter taste. The shaped glass knocked against my teeth. Something had been off with Gran. Yes, she’d been ill, so ill I’d made a deal with a servant of death to save her soul. But still –

“God Riley. You’re quiet. You’re here now, you might as well enjoy it.” Kat knelt on the blanket beside me.

I could smell it as soon as Kat sat down, the stench of stale smoke burning my nostrils. “Please tell me you haven’t been smoking,” I coughed, wafting the fumes away with my hand.

“Of course, I haven’t,” she said before diving into her bag. She plucked out a shocking pink aerosol can and sprayed it all over herself with a few squirts in the air for good measure. “Simon insists he won’t stop though, so until Channing Tatum becomes available, I’m sticking with him. Anyway, back to you, what’s up?”

I balanced the almost full bottle in the grass, the contents settling uneasily in my stomach. Once again, it would be easier to tell the truth. Although confessing to be a witch would throw up more questions than answers for Kat, and Gran would surely kill me for divulging our secrets.

“I told you earlier I was tired, I didn’t sleep well.” Striking a deal with an angel in the early hours of the morning proved to be more time-consuming that I’d originally planned.

“You’re seventeen,” Kat yawned. “You should be able to stay up all night and not feel its effects. But if you’re feeling shit, why don’t we find something to put a smile on your face? Where’s Will?”

I shrugged. “I haven’t seen him for a while. The last time I did, he was fighting his way to the front of the crowd.” I bobbed my head towards the fifty-deep crowd who were dancing and swaying in ways unsuited to the heavy metal band rocking it out on stage.

Kat had spent weeks talking about this clandestine festival. She’d had to sneak out under the hooked nose of her strict mother, and I felt guilty for spoiling it. Now, with my ears ringing because of the constant din, I wished I’d stuck to the lie I’d tried after lunch. My boyfriend had barely looked at me, never mind spent any time with me, and I found myself disturbed by fleeting thoughts of the angel in Will’s absence.

Smoke gathered, seeping into my pores choking my lungs. Makeshift fire pits sprang up everywhere in the clearing in the middle of Derwent Woods. Uneasiness prickled my skin. As a water witch, fire put me on edge, and probably affected me more than any of the nemocanes in attendance. Nemocanes were non-witches, those without power.

“Do you want to go find him?” Kat tilted her head and fluttered her fake eyelashes.

I’d known her long enough to know she wasn’t asking and before I knew it, Kat had pulled me to my feet. “Come on, let’s see if we can get Will to put a smile on your face. If anyone can, I’m sure it’s him.”

We delved deeper through the crowd, ducking, and weaving through twisting bodies and flailing arms, some of which smacked me straight in the face. The stench was almost unbearable, cheap perfume, the musty smell of beer all mixed in with sweat and smoke.

“I can’t see them, can you?”

“They’ve got to be here somewhere,” said Kat. She craned her neck to scan the crowd. “Tell you what, if you go to the right, I’ll go this way, and we’ll send the other a text if we find them. Okay? Great.”

“Kat, wait!” But the mass of bodies had already swallowed my friend, bottles of alcohol raised in the air, the crowd singing as loud as their voices would let them.

Fighting my way in the direction Kat told me to go, I was confronted by one unfamiliar face after another. They swam before my eyes and merged into one continuous blur. Heat rose in my face. Sweat coated my forehead, droplets running down the length of my neck. I tugged at the stiff collar of my denim jacket, but the more I did, the more it closed around my neck like a vice.

More limbs struck.

The fire was overwhelming.

I fought for air.

My hand raced around my neck in a frantic motion. The contents of dancing bottles dripped down onto my hair and face. Gran would think I’d drank a brewery.

I forced my way to the back of the crowd, pushing through people as though they were water and I was desperate for the shore. Breaking out into the open, I inhaled as much fresh air as I could, letting the space subdue the rising panic within.

The constant roar of the band was the only reminder of where I was and the only thing stopping me from falling to my knees and making a spectacle of myself before most of the year twelve and thirteens.

A glint of white flashed through the trees ahead.

Then another.

My blood turned to stone.

Then a hand clamped down on my shoulder, and I spun, blood throbbing.

“Where have you been?”

“Nowhere.”

I looked back towards the treeline.

“You okay? Riley?” Kat’s voice was muffled and far away. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I’m not sure I haven’t,” I mumbled.

“What? Doesn’t matter. Come on, I’ve found the boys.” Grabbing hold of my wrist, Kat pulled me through the crowd where I couldn’t help but look back.

Ghosts – a definite possibility and harmless in most cases. Demon – more likely and more deadly. I looked around at all those gathered. Shit, so many. It would be a bloodbath.

“Here they are,” Kat thrust me forward.

Will and Simon had worked their way right to the front. Lyrics flew from their mouths delivered out of tune between swigs of beer. As soon as Will’s eyes found mine, he stumbled to me with a lopsided grin on his handsome face. I felt a pang in my stomach as another face popped into my head.

Mentally, I told it to piss off.

“W-w-where have you been?” he slurred. His hands were all over my back, moving lower and lower. Will leaned in read to place a kiss on my lips. Reaching back, I stopped his hands travelling further but welcomed the kiss I’d waited all night for.

Despite tasting that wretched alcohol, my heart leapt. Worries of dangers lurking beyond the trees evaporated. I’d probably imagined it anyway. Reaching up, I ran my hand through his short dirty-blond hair.

“We need more time together,” he said, lips pressing against my ear. “Alone.”

I tensed. The meaning was as clear as ringing bells and set in my insides like concrete. I plastered a smile on my face. After all, it was what I wanted, wasn’t it? Having pined for him for the last four years with not one sign I was even on his radar, I was determined to make the most of being his.

Somewhere, screams pierced the deafening music.

“What was that?” Will asked, pulling away.

I ignored him. With my body as still as stone, I looked to see what had caused panic to roll through the crowd. People fled in all directions, frantic limbs flying. I’d stood still long enough to feel the loss of Will’s body heat and watch him leave to join the dispersing group.

Nausea surged when I realised they were running away from the treeline where I thought I’d glimpsed something other.

Shit.

The music cut off and a loud crash sounded as the musicians abandoned their instruments.

“Will? Kat? I spun on the spot desperately trying to find my friends. I battled against the onslaught of bodies, the only one going towards what made everyone else flee.

The screaming was terrible. It punctured my mind until I couldn’t think straight. A tall blur of blond hair and white t-shirt barged my shoulder and knocked me to the ground, not bothering to stop. I hissed at the sharp pain in my hands. Lifting them from the grassy field, thick blood trickled from a jagged wound across my palm. The fragmented remains of a glass bottle lay hidden in the glass coated in my blood. Black in the moonlight, the droplets slid down my hand and into the grass.

Shadows emerged from the trees, the stark darkness of the woods bleeding into the clearing. They moved in quick, sharp jerks barely touching the ground with their stick-like limbs. The only creatures I had ever seen scurry like that were spiders.

Demons. But what kind, I didn’t know, had never encountered them in any of my witch studies. My pulse drummed in my ears as all other sounds died. They drew closer, the pale white of their skin stretching over thin, sharp bones like a translucent film. Two pointed pincers bulged out of the side of their head and around the front of their faces. Fire danced in their feline-like eyes.

The only one left in the clearing, I pushed myself back onto my feet. Only me and a dozen of these things. I grimaced at the throbbing in my hand, and took calculated steps towards the demons, taking care not to trip over the abandoned debris strewn over the grass.

There were seconds left before they reached me. Would flooding the clearing work? Should I send out a jet of water to blast them back? Quick. Decide.

“Are you going to make a half-arsed attempt to get away or just let them kill you?”

I whirled on the familiar voice to find the angel standing there. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Saving you.”

The untamed black hair grazed his shoulders. He held my gaze steady and sure, his lips slightly parted. Something registered on his face and a darkness bloomed in his widening eyes burning with such intensity that the night sky with all its stars and wonders paled in comparison.

I blinked the image of him away and clicked my tongue. “Save yourself.” With that, I sent three demons skittling with a low jet of water.

“There’s too many of them, we’ll never make it. Come on,” Rafe reached back and grabbed my wrist to pull me with him.

Not that I wanted to admit it, but he was right. We barrelled across the grass heading for the stage. My much shorter legs struggled to keep up with his longer strides. Even in frantic escape mode, Rafe moved with grace while all my energy was spent trying to stay upright.

He glanced over his shoulder. “They’re gaining on us. Hurry!”

“Can’t you sprout your wings and fly us out of here?”

“No.”

“Why the hell not?”

“I’ll explain if we survive this.”

I groaned as he increased his speed dragging me with him, my thighs and calves burning.

“I need to get to the coven.”

Each penetrating stab reverberated across the ground, and the closer they got, the more their screeched pierced my ear drums. Rafe stopped when we reached a black and silver motorcycle propped up by a short leg at the side of the stage.

“Hop on,” he said, throwing his leg over. With a kick of his boot, the leg flicked up and the engine roared into life. He looked at me once more. “What are you waiting for?”

“There isn’t a helmet,” I hesitated.

Dark amusement flickered in his eyes. “Seriously? We’re getting chased by demons who I know want to kill us and you’re worried about where the helmet is.”

I could have explained. I could have told him why the sheer thought of getting on that bike was giving me palpitations and shortening my breath. But I didn’t.

“Safety first,” was all I said.

“Get on the bike, Riley.”

I stopped myself throwing up. “If we die now, I’m betting it’s down to a lack of safety equipment and not shiny demons with excellent cheekbones.” I hitched up my long skirt and jumped on. At first, I didn’t know where to place my hands and settled on the thin strip of leather between us.

“Here,” he reached round, grabbed both my hands, and pulled them around his waist. My injured hang stung. My chest crashed into the solid wall of his back.

“I need you to hold on,” he shouted over the noise of the engine.

Gripping tighter, I brushed the contours of his stomach muscles. Heat bloomed on my cheeks and I was thankful he couldn’t see the fire in my face.

We sped away and the creatures gave chase.

“Head for Valestone,” I called. “We’ll be safe there.”

Rafe drove straight into the forest. I wondered if he hoped the trees would act as an obstacle to slow the creatures down. Derwent Forest was thick and known for the dense canopy capable of blocking most rays. Especially now, as midnight fast approached, everywhere was black except for the small distance illuminated by the bike’s headlamp and the smouldering fires left in the clearing.

“Do you know what those things are?”

“Arachna demons. Half human and half spider. All of them female.”

“They can’t be.”

“Female or demons? Hang on!” he steered left, avoiding a row of tree trunks. The bike weaved in and out of trees effortlessly navigating root laden paths as though he’d driven this way a thousand times.

Daring to look back, my loose hair lashed my face like gilded whips. Somehow, my faux daisy headband stayed in place. A good thing for Rafe because if it flew off, I’d make him go back for it. Demons be damned.

“They’re getting closer!”

“They can’t move that quick. These are new ones emerging from the undergrowth.”

My head snapped back to him. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“None of this is about making you feel better,” he called back, swerving again.

We hit an emerging root. My hands wrapped tighter around him to stop myself from falling off, but he jumped the bike and landed them back on the ground on the other side.

“You okay back there?”

“Yes,” I said into the rushing wind. It whistled as it sailed by my ear.

A volcano of dirt and greenery erupted ahead. Rafe jammed on the brakes and skidded, landing at an angle. Two white pincers grappled out of the ground. He paused for a beat before flying off in the direction we faced.

“Not much further now,” he called back.

In the distance, the shadows of the forest faded paling to navy blue and lighter still as we neared the edge of the forest. I felt easier knowing we would soon be out. I’d have to wake my grandmother and summon the coven to deal with the demons – Arachna, Rafe called them. How strange I’d never heard of them before.

We broke out of the boundary of the forest and slammed into the village. The closed lichgate of our village’s Norman church lay ahead, the church on our right, silhouetted against the sky. The interior was nothing more than an illusion created for any tourists making their way to Valestone or visitors from nearby towns. Witches in our coven could see through the magic veil like it was a splash of oil in a puddle.

I gave a little yelp as Rafe spun the bike, landing parallel to the forest with the church behind us. He twisted the key and the noise died.

“Well that’s something new,” he stared up at the sky, scanning across the span of the village.

Following his gaze, I smiled, knowing what had piqued his interest. “It’s a protection dome for the coven. Powered by the High Witch.” When I spoke, my head felt like it was submerged in water, my words muffled, and ears blocked.

And still the creatures came, their skin shining like a pearl in the moonlight.

“Here they come.”

One creature placed a pincer across the boundary marked by a row of uniform trees. As soon as they did, electric flashes surged up the offending limb until it covered the whole demon. It crackled, steam rising high before its body went limp and slumped to the ground, lifeless. Two other demons scurried up to the dead body, trying to nudge it alive with a pincer but when it didn’t move, they retreated in a hurry taking the whole horde with them.

“Nothing that intends harm can enter.”

“Impressive. I might need a word with your High Witch.”

I dismounted; my attention fixed on the smouldering mass of flesh. “I’m not so sure about that,” I said absently. “A servant of death seeking her out about a protection dome might freak her out.”

“Point taken.”

I turned to smile at Rafe. “Nice bike.”

He rubbed the back of his neck and threw his leg over the motorcycle to stand next to me.

“Yeah, it’s not mine. Some idiot left it next to the stage with keys in the ignition. An idiot I’m very grateful to, but I’m just going to leave it here. Are you going to be okay?”

“Yes. I’m going to wake my grandmother with the wonderful news that half of the neighbouring town have witnessed and were nearly eaten by demons. Some possibly eaten if I don’t get a move on.” I studied the gash across my palm, flecks of dried blood formed a boundary around the open wound.

“Are you hurt?”

I snatched it away, hiding it by my side. “Just a little scratch.”

“Show me.”

“I said it’s fine.”

Rafe sighed and held an upturned hand. There wasn’t a moment of hesitation in my mind and before I knew it, he was cradling my hand in his almost reverently as he ran a calloused finger tip down my palm.

My breath bated. He smelled of soap. Clean, like rolling in freshly washed linen. I couldn’t look at his face.

“When you get home, I want you to properly clean the wound.”

“My Gran will have a poultice of witch hazel leaves and bark. She’ll sort it.” I would have sworn I saw a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“And I’ll come back tomorrow to heal it when I have my powers back.”

My head snapped up. “What do you mean? Is that why you couldn’t fly? Have you lost your powers?”

“So many questions, little witch.”

I cocked my head to one side silently demanding answers.

“Angels are given a day off, if you will, every ten thousand souls they collect. Today is mine, but you live the day as a mortal. No powers, no wings.”

“You had a day off and you decided to creep around a teenage party? Not that you look much older than we do…”

At that, Rafe chucked. “Get going, or someone is going to find themselves at the mercy of an Arachna demon.”

“I need my hand back.”

A hint of colour stained his cheeks, but he dropped my hand as though the contact burned him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

Rafe nodded in reply.

I kicked my legs into gear. I made it to the end of the lane before the urge to look back became too much. He should’ve gone, but he was still there, lounging against the stolen bike, watching.

It took everything I had to move away.

Chapter 1

#breaking shadows #wip #mywip #young adult #witches #ANGELOFDEATH #rafe #riley

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imsadstuff · 4 years

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what is yoongi's problem

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hazel-writes · 3 years

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Summary: You embark on your first mission off-board the Finalizer, but only to learn that trouble tends to follow you no matter where you are...

Word Count: 2,800

Notes: Things are starting to pick up!

Warnings: strong canon-typical violence, blood

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

I think it's gonna be a long, long time

'Til touchdown brings me 'round again to find

I'm not the man they think I am at home

Oh no, no, no

I'm a rocket man

• Rocket Man - Elton John •

This was your first time in the hangar since Ms. Stoney had rudely ushered you to your quarters on your first day onboard the Finalizer.

As you entered, you were once again faced with the great speckled wall of never-ending space. The scariness of its infinite expanse reminded you of the first time you ever saw the ocean.

You were ten. You and your family had traveled to a remote part of Lothal for your father’s birthday. He had been wanting a change of scenery to spark some new inspiration for his paintings and your mother had surprised him with the impromptu vacation.

You didn’t remember much from that trip, but you did recall your older brother, Doran, attempting to teach you how to swim.

“Move your arms like this, and your legs like this,” he said, demonstrating the correct movements.

You crossed your arms defiantly. “I still don’t understand why you want me to learn how to swim. We don’t live anywhere near the ocean!”

Doran’s eyes lit up. “Maybe someday you will. Maybe someday there’ll be a huge rainstorm and the whole world will flood, and you, thanks to me, will be the only person on Lothal who knows how to swim. You’ll escape, start your own civilization, and be queen of the new world.”

You raised a sceptical eyebrow. “So you’re saying, if I learn how to swim, I’ll become queen of the world?”

He smirked. “Precisely.”

You looked to your mother, still not fully believing him. “Ma, is that true?”

She shrugged. “Crazier things have happened.”

"Okay, fine. I’ll learn how to swim. But I don’t want to be queen.” You look out to the vast ocean, trying to find its end. “It would be much too lonely to rule the world on my own.”

As if on cue, you were pulled from your memory when the First Order’s own ruler entered the hangar, accompanied by General Hux and a brigade of stormtroopers.

The Commander and General made their way onto a small private shuttle, while the troopers entered a larger one to their left. You, Akilah, Takoda, Rilea, and Soren followed behind the troopers.

————————————

The ride to Dantooine was cramped and bumpy, but much shorter than you imagined it to be.

When the shuttle lowered its ramp for the troopers to exit, the view you were met with left you breathless.

Your eyes were embraced by a kaleidoscope of colors. Green hills framed small valley villages like nature’s very own picture frames. Blue skies provided the perfect backdrop. Pink and purple flowers dotted the rolling ground and ancient trees towered over them, almost protectively.

Takoda laughed, nudging you forward, “What, you’ve never seen a tree before?”

“Not like this,” you replied, awestruck.

He sighed, looking around, his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, I suppose this place is kinda special.”

You laughed. “You suppose? ”

Rilea appeared next to you. “Koda lived here for a while; he’s used to it’s ‘specialness’ by now.”

You turned back to Koda, surprised. “You lived here? On Dantooine?”

“Yep, a long time ago,” he sighed again.

This shocked you. “Even though there’s so many Resista-”

You are silenced midway through your question as General Hux began to speak to the group.

“All of you have your missions. This should be a quick, easy job. Myself and Commander Ren will be speaking with the leaders here. Troopers, only engage with citizens if absolutely necessary. If any resist violently, kill them. We will not waste our time on wannabe rebel scum.” He turned in your direction. “You five, distribute the posters and try not to get yourselves killed.” He pauses. “You are all dismissed.”

The crowd dispersed as you turned to face your team members.

“Well that was downright inspiring,” Soren quipped sarcastically.

Rilea scoffed, “ You’re one to talk, Mr. Melancholy.”

Soren rolled his eyes.

“So how does this work?” you asked, changing the subject.

“I think it’s best if we split up,” Rilea said, “We have a lot of ground to cover.”

“Sounds good!” Koda replied. “Meet back here in an hour?”

We all nod.

Akilah speaks up. “Just remember: keep your head down. Try to put up the posters when there aren’t too many people nearby. If you get into any trouble, run back here. Got it?”

We all nod again.

“Good. I’ll see you all in an hour,” she said before walking away.

You start in the opposite direction, towards a thick tree-line at the edge of the meadow that the shuttles landed in.

After walking for about twenty minutes, you came across some small buildings — a mix of houses, tiny shops, and public amenities.

You took out your stack of posters, pulled one off of the top, and taped it to the building closest to you.

Success.

You found another building with a white wall, pulled out a second poster, and had just started to put it up when you were approached by three men.

“What do you think you’re doing, First Order scum ?”

Why is it always me?

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you.” You took a step back, smiling. “Just putting up some posters.”

The man nearest to you, who was sporting a floppy brown haircut, spoke next. “Posters… is that what you call ’em?” he laughed. “ We usually refer to them as First Order trash!”

He walked towards you, stumbling a little, and snatched the poster out of your hand before crumpling it into a ball.

The man smelled like alcohol and looking around, you noticed that the building you decided to tape your poster to was a cantina.

Great.

The man threw the crumpled-up poster in your direction and you stumbled backwards, dropping the rest of the posters on the dirt below.

“What a shame,” one of the other men said sarcastically. He wore a dark blue shirt that was ripped on one sleeve.

You attempt to stay calm. “Look, I don’t want any trouble — I’m just doing my job.”

“Ha!” the floppy-haired man scoffs, looking at his two comrades. “We’ve heard that one before, haven’t we boys?”

“Yeah!” the man with the ripped shirt shouted emphatically, “Were you ‘just doing your job’ when you murdered my brothers and sisters? When you destroyed our houses? When you stole our land and resources?”

You were lost for words. “I- I’m sorry. I truly am.”

“You really think I’m some bantha-brained idiot?” he replied, infuriated. “If you were ‘truly sorry’ you wouldn’t be putting up those posters.”

“I know, it’s just-”

The floppy-haired man spoke up again, a sinister smile on his lips. “You know what boys, I think we should give the Order a taste of their own medicine.”

You didn’t like where this was going. “Please, let me just-”

Before you could get another word out, the man had grabbed your arm roughly.

You tried to squirm out of his grasp, but he was too strong. You could try using your newfound powers, but you remembered what Commander Ren had told you: don’t reveal your Force abilities while on the mission.

Thinking quickly, you were able to bring your knee up to hit him where it hurt, and he stumbled back momentarily, cursing.

The other two men surged forward, slamming you into the wall behind you. Your head made contact with the hard surface and you saw stars.

Feeling dizzy and disoriented, your body slid to the ground, as the men began to search your pockets.

“What- what do you want?” you managed to choke out, still dazed from the impact on your head.

The man you had hit, having recovered from your blow, made his way back over to you.

“Shut up, you sithspit.”

His words spurred a surge of energy within you, and you did your best to grab and scratch at the hands that were searching your pockets, only to have the floppy-haired man backhand you, hard .

Your cheek stung, and so did your emotions. You felt angry. Hurt. Constricted. Frustrated. Trapped.

A familiar sixth sense began to build within you, begging to be released from your body.

No, no, no, you thought. Remember what the Commander said. Remember what he said. Don’t disappoint him. Not again.

You felt the sense within you retreat and you breathed a sigh of relief. Your head was pulsing to the painful rhythm of your panicked heart. You could feel blood seep from the spot on your cheek where the man had hit you.

The guy with the blue shirt, having found the credits you had brought along with you in case of emergency, shouted in victory.

“We’ll be having a big feast tonight, fellas!” he shouted, holding out your coins for them to see.

"Wait-” you started, knowing that without those credits, you’d be pretty much broke.

“What did I say, girl — shut your mouth!”

You felt a heavy boot make contact with your already nauseous stomach.

Your eyes glazed over, silent tears falling, as you curled into the smallest ball you could manage. It was what you did as a child whenever you heard the X-Wings and TIE fighters exchanging fire above your house.

Your ears suddenly picked up the sound of another pair of heavy footsteps approach from a nearby alley.

Through bleary eyes, you watched as each of your attackers were lifted off the ground and thrown into the wall opposite to you with sickening crunches.

You shuffled back as fast as you could, given your current state, not wanting to incur the wrath of whatever it was that approached you.

Your back hit a hard wall and you could do nothing more than shut your eyes and shield your head with your arms, preparing for the imminent attack.

“Stop.”

A voice sounded from in front of you.

A familiar voice.

“Commander,” you whispered, hoarsely.

He knelt down, his mask scanning your slumped body.

“You need medical attention,” he said, in his typical ‘stating a question as an order’ tone.

“Yes, I think you may be right,” you responded, letting out a pained chuckle.

He continued to stare at you, intently, through his visor. You began to feel a prickling at the back of your head, much like the time in Hux’s office. Except now, it was gentler — comforting. And this time, you embraced it, letting it in completely.

After a moment, the prickling stopped.

The Commander looked down for a moment, as if uncomfortable with what he was going to say next.

“You- you didn’t defend yourself,” he said in a tone you had never heard from him before. He sounded confused, conflicted.

“I tried,” you said, rubbing your hands, which were still sore from clawing at your attacker’s limbs.

“I meant with the Force,” he continued. “You felt prompted to do so with Hux, and yet with this more... threatening encounter, you refused.”

You gazed up at him, surprised that he didn’t already know the answer to his own question.

“You told me not to,” you said simply, looking at him, the corner of your mouth twitching upwards.

“And you would rather risk death than defy my orders?”

Finally, you thought. A genuine question.

“I trusted that the reasons behind your orders were important,” you replied, confident in your explanation.

He seemed taken aback by that. Maybe he wasn’t used to people following his orders because they ‘trusted’ him. Instead, he was probably used to them following his orders out of fear .

You started to stand, but your stomach reeled at the attempted movement. You sucked in a sharp breath of air through clenched teeth and put a hand on the wall behind you for stability.

Your head was spinning — you had hit it harder than you thought. Lights danced before your eyes, making it hard to see.

The Commander’s cloaked shape rose next to you, and as your eyes followed his movement, you realized you had almost forgotten how tall he was.

He reached a gloved hand towards you, slowing slightly when he got close, almost as if he was expecting you to flinch.

You didn’t.

He took that as a sign to continue his maneuver. Placing one arm below your shoulders and the other at the backs of your knees, he wordlessly lifted you off of the ground and into his arms.

You were on the brink of consciousness, but managed to whisper a final “thank you” before drifting into an unrestful sleep.

———————————

When you woke, you weren’t in your bed like before. You looked down, only to realize you were still in the arms of your Commander.

Slightly embarrassed at your vulnerable state, you closed your eyes and pretended to be asleep, as to avoid any potential awkwardness.

“I know you’re awake.”

Kriff.

You opened a hesitant eye and looked up at the source of the deep, rumbling voice, but his mask was pointed straight ahead, on the trees in front of him.

“Where are we?” you asked, your voice coming out hoarser than you wished it to.

Still looking forward, he responded. “We’re almost back to the shuttle.”

“Oh,” you replied.

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you; no noise was present other than the breeze blowing the leaves of nearby trees and the sound of the Commander’s boots crunching twigs and branches at a steady pace beneath you.

His walking slowed as you neared the edge of the tree line. You looked past it to see the larger meadow where the First Order shuttles were situated.

The Commander came to a complete stop and looked down at you quickly, before bringing his eyes back to the clearing ahead.

There was that strange emotion again: confliction.

He probably doesn’t want to be seen carrying me, you thought. Too much visible empathy isn’t good for his menacing reputation…

You decided to speak up first — making the decision for him. “You can let me down now, I’m fine.”

He shifted his glance downwards as you moved in his grip. However, instead of letting you go, as per your instructions, he maintained his tight hold.

You wished you could read his mind like he had read yours back on the Finalizer.

What was he thinking?

Why does he seem so conflicted all of a sudden?

Why is he helping you, again?

Suddenly, as if in response to your questions, waves of intense feeling washed over you.

Anger. Frustration. Confliction. Curiosity. Reluctance.

It took you a second to realize that these weren’t your feelings, they were his.

Shocked by your sudden intrusion into his mind, he looked at you, tilting his head slightly to the side, before guiding you to stand on your feet. The Commander remained silent as you leaned on a nearby tree for support.

He glanced between you and the shuttles, shifting uncomfortably on his feet.

“Go,” you waved him in the direction of the meadow.

He didn’t move.

“Go,” you spoke again, softly, attempting a smile. “I understand.”

Seemingly content with your reply, he nodded his head slightly, and headed into the meadow, cape blowing in the breeze behind him.

Breathing a sigh of relief, you waited for five minutes, giving the Commander enough time to get to the shuttles before you followed.

The pain in your head, cheek, and abdomen increased, so you began to stumble into the meadow, hoping to make it to the shuttles before you passed out again.

Luckily, a familiar voice called your name.

“Guys, come on — I found her!” Akilah’s words sounded across the meadow.

Your exhaustion got the best of you, and you crumpled into the soft grass beneath you.

“Sor, come help me!”

You looked up to see Akilah’s worried face, followed by Soren’s confused one.

Koda and Rilea followed close behind, but Akilah soon directed them back towards the shuttle to warn the medical crew of your arrival.

She directed her attention back at you, smiling. “Here, hold on, we’ll get you back in no time. Sor, grab her other arm.”

You felt your body lift off the ground, Akilah holding up your left side and Soren holding up your right.

“Wait,” you spoke, barely a whisper. “I- I dropped the posters.”

Soren looked at Akilah. “Is she serious right now?”

“Umm… I’m really not sure,” she replied, frowning. “Could be a head injury.”

“We better get her back,” Soren replied, as the two of them helped you back to the shuttle.

They laid you on a makeshift bed and the on-board medic began attending to your injuries.

You used the last of your strength to lift your head slightly to search for Commander Ren, but he was nowhere to be found.

Dropping your head back onto the pillow, you closed your eyes, finally embracing the comforting darkness of sleep.

———————————————

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etraytin · 3 years

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Quarantine, Day 242

November 8 Back home, thank god, and recovering from camping. Camping is definitely not my favorite activity but the kiddo loves it and had been super disappointed to realize that the three-day Cub Scout camping trip from last year was almost surely not going to happen even before his pack disbanded. So of course I had to jump on this spur-of-the-moment one night local camping gig, even though it is literally November. I was also a little worried that he might not get along with members of the new pack, and figured that there are much worse ways to tell how kids are going to get along than by throwing them together for twenty hours of outdoor activities time. We ended up having a good time, for the most part, and the kids ended up getting along pretty well. One kid in the pack is definitely a bit of a pissant who needs to learn manners, but the kiddo managed to bond with that kid's main deputy over a shared deep interest in Among Us and extremely dumb jokes, so things weren't too bad. I think there is going to be some continuing friction there, but not so much that it should ruin things with so many other boys around to hang out with. Definitely the worst part of the trip for me personally was not any interpersonal stuff but the realization that the three mile hike was not, as last year's had been, a pack activity with parents staying home and doing stuff around the camp, but a full-group activity. I am capable of walking three and a half miles (the final actual distance) if I need to, but it is not a leisure activity for me. It is also not what I want to do immediately before having to pitch a ten-person tent and then sleep outdoors, but we make sacrifices for our children and also to not be the only one not doing the supportive thing that all the other moms and dads are doing. Uuuuugh. Also the only thing worse than a three and a half mile walk is a three and a half mile walk while wearing a face mask most of the time. After the walk and setting up our tent, which the kiddo and I were able to do on our own in about ten minutes, not too bad, everyone started getting ready for dinner. Mask discipline during this portion of the campout became very shoddy, but at least we were outdoors in the breeze and everyone was sanitizing their hands. Dinner was foil-wrapped pita pizza pockets that were good but required time to prep and cook, so I broke out the emergency pack of hot dogs and long forks and the kids went to town on that while they were waiting. Cub Scouts are pretty much always ravenous. We did pita pockets, and then transitioned almost immediately into smores cones and cups, also wrapped in foil and cooked on the grill or in the coals. They were good, but so much messier in the end than just making smores! I gave in to temptation and flambeed a couple of marshmallows on a stick because that is how I like them best. The kids told ghost stories (sort of) and improvised a live-action version of Among Us that was basically tag in the dark with a lot of screaming. Hopefully nobody was camping out this weekend with the expectation of a lot of peace and quiet. We did get them to simmer down by eight-thirty or so, because we are responsible adults who never, ever get tired of shushing children. The kiddo and I were both pretty beat by the end of the night, and it was getting cold. I had a big Intex air mattress we'd already blown up in the tent, and although we'd forgotten pillows, I was still hoping for a comfy night. Unfortunately we'd only been in bed maybe twenty minutes when the kiddo noticed an air leak in the bed. We patched it with medical tape (the only tape we had), reinflated the bed and hoped for the best. It did okay for awhile, but it turns out that laying on an air mattress outside is a good way to get all the heat sucked out of your body. We shivered and tried to sleep for awhile longer, then wound up laying my sleeping bag down on the mattress and both of us huddled under his sleeping bag. Eventually we were warm enough to sleep (it was about 50 outside at this point, not like super cold, but certainly very uncomfortable) except that the mattress continued slowly leaking through the night until eventually the kiddo rolled all the way across the mattress and knocked me off the side of the bed. By this time it was nearly six in the morning, so we gave up on the bed and went to go relax and get warm in the car. It was an excellent choice. The one nice thing we did get to do that night was watch President- Elect Biden's speech on my phone, since we hadn't been able to watch it live. That was one funny thing I noticed, nobody on the entire trip said a single thing about the election except for like one joke in the morning about Alaska's speed at counting ballots. I guess it's not too surprising considering that I suspect most of the other parents are pretty conservative and probably not feeling super great, but it did seem a little strange that they weren't even commiserating. I remember in 2016 I was basically crying on my friends' shoulders from the get-go. Maybe people just don't know how to feel yet. In any case, the silence was much preferable to having to get into a political argument and I wasn't going to start gloating or anything, so I just followed the news on my phone all evening and participated in the not-saying-anything. In the morning, once we'd made the trek to the thankfully-heated bathrooms and warmed up our cold bodies in the car, we had breakfast with the group. This was egg-hashbrowns-cheese mix in foil packets, making sort of omlette-y things that turned out pretty tasty! We also did crescent rolls wrapped around the long forks, kind of doughy and burnt but entertaining. There was also coffee, courtesy of my propane stove and kettle, which made it slightly easier to cope with the new day. After breakfast was a slow and easy sort of camp-breaking, mostly done by the adults while the boys played. It was really nice to give the kiddo a chance to just run around outside with some other kids, especially since we'll be quarantining for the next couple of weeks. I guess if we were ever going to get exposed, now is the time for it when we've already cleared our schedule? In any case, eventually we struck the tents and cleaned everything up and headed home a little before eleven. We got home, I put away our leftover cold stuff in the fridge, and then retreated to the bedroom for a two hour nap. The kiddo didn't nap, but he fell asleep before suppertime in our bed and stayed there until we managed to coax him to his own bed at 11pm, so hopefully he'll be recovered by tomorrow as well. It was a busy weekend, and I feel better than I have in a long time.

#quarantine #camping

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sourbkg · 4 years

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the grinch (3) (bakugou katsuki x reader)

—the final part!!! once again, a huge thank you to @myhero-ghoul and @yuuthnoodle ( @a-boy-is-a-gun) for helping me out this together, I love you both!!—

1/3 2/3 3/3

The night before, you were told to put your gift under the tree so Jirou could take some nice pictures of the mix, which you happily complied. When it came time for the gift exchange, Bakugou is nowhere to be found. You’d spent hours upon hours on his gift, and you hoped maybe he had the decency to come open it with everyone else— but you didn’t let your hopes rise too high.

So, your gift remained unopened under the tree while Secret Santa after Secret Santa grabbed their gifts and announced who their receiver was and had the satisfaction of seeing them open whatever gift.

When it was Kirishima’s turn, he shot you a knowing look while calling out to Tokoyami, handing him the eloquently wrapped box and watching as he opened it with nimble fingers.

Well, nimble until Dark Shadow got impatient and tore the wrapping apart, quickly lifting up the cloth to reveal the cloak. Tokoyami felt the fabric between his fingers before smiling at Kirishima, thanking him for the wonderful gift while slipping it over his arms.

And then, to your pleasant surprise, Bakugou joined the circle, one hand shoved in his pocket while the other held a wrapped gift. He shoved the present to Midoriya, who took it with shaky hands before unwrapping it and giving a happy gasp.

“This is— a Mint Condition All Might Figurine! There were only ten of these models made! How’d did you manage—“

“Doesn’t fucking matter.” Bakugou growled.

You stood before Bakugou had the chance to leave, grabbing the present you made for him and offering it to him with a smile.

“Merry Christmas?”

“Tch.” He rolled his eyes but took the present regardless, going for the card you taped on top of it first.

He opened it delicately, as if he was afraid he tearing it would ruin the overall appeal of it, and skimmed over the inside.

‘Dear Bakugou Katsuki,

I had no idea what to get you and I hope this is up to your standards.’

Starting normal enough, he continued to read. Only, the further he read, the… harsher the words got. Ranging from complaints about how he’s treated everyone the past few weeks (even going as far as ridiculing him specifically for how he’s treated Monoma), to how you haven’t enjoyed his sour attitude overall, especially how his hate seemed to multiply by tenfold since the holiday season began.

And with the final sentence, you stated:

‘I don’t feel like I know you anymore, and because of that, I don’t think we should be friends.

Signed, (l/n) (f/n).’

He glanced towards you, looking at the stupid smile you had on your face. Why did you have a stupid smile on your face? What was the point in inviting him in the first fucking place if all he had done was ruin the mood? The card in his hand was crumbled in his fist, the other thrusting the gift back into your arms.

He ignored your look of hurt and confusion, throwing the remains of the card to the side, “If this is your way of a joke, it’s not fucking funny.”

“What? What do you mean, Bakugou, why’d you—“

He ignored you, turning on his heel to leave, and he would have, but he heard that stupid rat Monoma speak and he lost all control.

“Something the matter, Bakugou? Don’t like your gift?”

The blonde spun back around and in one swift, brutal move, punched Monoma right in the nose.

The area filled with gasps and shrieks, ranging from ‘oh my god’s to ‘Bakugou!’

But he heard your erratic voice through it all, immediately at Monoma’s side to nurse his wound.

“What the hell Bakugou?!” You screamed, setting the present that was meant for him on the floor to check if Monoma’s nose was broken.

“There a problem?” He growled, eyes narrowing and fingers flexing, “you still don’t like my attitude?”

“What are you talking about?” You tore your gaze from Monoma’s bleeding nose to the culprit, who looked ready to murder and cry all in one go. Tears brimming the corners of his eyes that he blinked away harshly.

He opened his mouth to reply, but Kirishima came and pressed a hand to his shoulder, nudging him in the direction towards the doors.

“C’mon man, I think you need a breather…”

Bakugou shook his hand off, shooting a glare his way before sending you one last look and stomping off.

———

The following night was not a pleasant one for the steaming blonde. Kirishima took it upon himself to ‘comfort’ him after his unsavory meltdown, opting to have a sleepover in his room to the blonde’s despair. Usually, Bakugou would be out like a light by nine at the latest. Tonight, the green flash of his alarm clock seemed to mock him.

2:49 am

Why the fuck was he still up and thinking about that stupid card you gave him? It’s not like it mattered what you thought of him. He shouldn’t still be dwelling on it.

A stray tear fell from his eyes and he wiped it away hastily, mentally blaming it on how he was laying before pushing himself up and out of bed. Kirishima laid splayed on the floor beside him, snoring softly, and he made it a point to step around him. At least one of them could sleep.

Bakugou closed the door to his room as quietly as he could, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding while making his way to the common area. Maybe a snack would help him sleep.

By the time he made it down the stairs, he realized he’d forgotten that everything was still decorated. With a scowl, he opened the refrigerator and grabbed the milk, then a glass from the cupboard and poured himself a cup.

All while a stupid fake tree smiled at him, bright eyed and white teeth.

He slapped it off the counter without a second thought, relishing in the small ‘clank’ it made when it hit the floor as he sipped his drink.

When he finished his glass, he quickly washed the cup and put the milk away, glancing to the tree that laid on the floor. He should be the bigger person and pick it up, but really, what was the point?

With a huff, he kicked it away from him, tearing down some tinsel that dangled from in front of the cabinets while he was at it. Why should he have to stare at this shit? He didn’t even like Christmas. It was just a stupid time to get ridiculed by his parents and for spoiled kids to get things they don’t need.

Spoiled kids like Monoma, who could get something like you.

He grunted, yanking down more tinsel.

This was ridiculous.

“Dude, really?” A voice came from behind him. He jumped, dropping the silver plastic from his hands and looking to the newcomer.

Kirishima stood, fighting a yawn, “Are you really tearing the Christmas stuff down?”

“Does it look like I’m tearing the fucking Christmas stuff down?” Bakugou asked with a snark, glancing away from his companion.

“Yeah.” Kirishima said without hesitation, gesturing to the tinsel and tree that surrounded him, “That’s exactly what it looks like, actually.”

The only response he received was an eyeroll, followed by Bakugou walking past him to the hangout area, all while taking down more Christmas decorations in his wake.

“Come on, this isn’t manly at all.” Kirishima scratched the back of his neck, trying to convince his friend to stop.

“I’m not asking you to stay.” Bakugou grunted, taking down some lights that were strung above the TV.

“I don’t even understand why (l/n) wrote that stuff—“

“Why (l/n) wrote what stuff?”

Your voice came out of nowhere, startling both boys, who whipped around to face you.

Bakugou recovered quicker out of the two, sneering in your direction while pulling the rest of the lights down with a harsh yank.

“Like you don’t already know.”

You let out a little laugh, looking to your feet, “What was it? The ‘I don’t like your attitude’ bit? Or maybe the ‘We shouldn’t be friends anymore’. I bet it’s that one.”

“Yeah, actually. It is that.” Sarcasm was laced heavily in his voice, but that didn’t stop him from pulling a wreath off the wall and tossing it to the side.

“So that’s it? You don’t wanna talk about it?”

You were met with silence, and as a response looked to Kirishima, “Come on, Kiri, help me out here.”

“Sorry, (l/n), this… is between you guys.” With a shrug of his shoulders he was gone, leaving you to stare after him before your eyes fell back on the blonde’s form.

“Bakugou—“ you started, only to see him start to walk to a new area, hearing him scoff when you followed.

“Okay, fine. You don’t wanna talk? Don’t. That’s not gonna stop me from telling you what happened.”

You noticed he paused pulling a candy cane from the wall before he continued, and you took this as your sign to continue as well.

“Someone switched the cards you were supposed to get.” You said simply, watching his reaction. Another grunt left his lips in disbelief and you frowned.

“I’m being serious! The one I actually wrote for you was sitting on my bed when I went back into my dorm earlier. I…”

He heard you take a deep breath, turning to face you for a brief second with a raised eyebrow.

“I was gonna leave it at your door. Knock and then leave it and the present, but you never answered and I didn’t want to just…I didn’t want the box to just sit in the hall, so I figured I’d check if you were down here. And you are. And I left the present on the table with the card. And I’d really like you open them. Please.”

You whispered the last part with such desperation that he could’ve believed you were telling the truth. But one question still lingered in his mind.

“Who switched the cards out?” He had an idea, but he wanted to hear you confirm it.

You looked away from him, “I think… I don’t know for sure, but I think Monoma might have…”

Bingo.

He made a noise from the back of his throat, between a scoff and a laugh, before moving past you to the dining room where the present and card sat waiting. You followed behind him meekly, biting your lip when he picked up the card.

He gave you a sideways glance as he tore the seal.

‘Dear Bakugou Katsuki,

I thought for a while about what to get you and I hope you like what I picked’

He grimaced slightly reading the first sentence, it resembling the ‘fake’ far too well.

But, as he continued to read, he realized the two were completely different. It started with you apologizing for forcing him to join the Christmas Shenanigans, saying how you hoped he would’ve enjoyed them the tiniest bit, though it seems he didn’t.

‘I genuinely hope you enjoy this present.

Signed, (l/n) (y/n).’

So it really wasn’t as bad as the fake. With a small satisfied nod, he reached for the gift and unwrapped it. Underneath the dorky Christmas paper was… a book? He glanced up to you, seeing you had your hands clasped in front of your face with your shoulders hunched. You made a noise and motioned for him to continue.

And he did, opening the book to the first page.

The title read ‘U.A. Memories’ with a huge smiley face underneath. He flipped to the next page and there were pictures of him and Kirishima laughing while Sero dangled from the ceiling with his tape wrapped around his body. Under the picture said the date it happened, followed by ‘remember when sero taped himself to the roof but no one helped him down because they were laughing too hard? mr. aizawa had to come cut him down’.

Every page following it had something similar, a picture of something stupid that happened with his friends, a date, and a small description of what it was. Some even dated back to the first year at U.A.

He was… surprised. This had to of taken a while, every word being handwritten and each picture glued down. You probably had to ask everyone for the pictures, seeing as you weren’t even present for half of the activities that were shown.

And at the very back of the book, in tiny letters on a sticky note read:

‘you can ignore this and save me the embarrassment, but i really really like you and think it would be cool if we went and got some hot chocolate together?’

Was this… were you asking him out? Was this a confession?

He snapped the book closed quickly after reading it, turning on his heel to face you.

“You like me?” He asked with a grunt, watching as your eyes widened, but you nodded your head.

Your eyes widened even more when he grabbed you by your upper arm and pulled you closer to him, clumsily pressing his lips to yours in a quick kiss. You didn’t even have time to react before it was over, a small squeak leaving you when he pulled away. Then he looked up, and you followed his gaze to see mistletoe. Taped to the ceiling. Surely Sero’s doing. You’d have to thank him later.

A smile made its way to your lips, wrapping yours arms around his neck and pulling him back for another kiss. It was awkward and had too much teeth to be considered anything true, but you weren’t complaining. Not when you had the best Christmas present given to you.

#bnha #mha #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #boku no hero acadamia #my hero acadamia x reader #my hero acadamia #the grinch au

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bluejayblueskies · 4 years

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tendrillar

Part 21 of Whumptober 2020

Fandom: The Magnus Archives Characters: Jonathan Sims, Martin Blackwood, Basira Hussain, Melanie King, Georgie Barker, Helen | The Distortion Tags: Whump, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Unreality, Mild Body Horror, Hurt/Comfort

Read on Ao3

The Archivist sees himself in a warped and twisted mirror, just for a moment, before it shatters with a scream of agony. It ripples through corridors that twist right, and right, and right, and shards of silver-sharp litter a carpet that isn’t. Doors appear and disappear, red and black and hardwood and steel and all folding under the weight of a thousand eyes trying to understand that which is by nature unknowable and should remain a spiraling mix of uncertainty and distrust.

He’s on the ground, if you could call it a ground. He retches up a shimmering cloud of static and curlicues that bore into his eyes in a desperate, furious plea to get out, Archivist. Get. Out!

Pinpricks turn into slices of red-hot pain as knives that are fingers and fingers that are not his turn his mind upon its axis, and he’s falling up, through a series of reflections of versions of himself that are not quite, and he’s shattering.

You do not belong here, Archivist. I. Did. Not. Invite. You.

A yellow door flickers at the edge of his vision, and he focuses on it with every strength of Seeing and Knowing and Beholding he still retains in this place so removed from sanity, from anything within the realm of corporeality. It shudders and ripples and snaps into place for just a moment, its handle an irradiant glow of tremoring existence.

The Archivist grips it tightly, feeling spiral scars scald themselves onto his skin and veins and mind, and pulls.

Georgie and Melanie spill out first, stumbling through a once-there-now-gone yellow doorway with eyes like stained glass and hands that grip the other’s white-knuckled and shaking. Basira’s there in an instant, gripping Melanie by the arm and asking, firmly, who she is. What’s her name? Yes, she has a name. She’s safe. She can’t see because she’s blind. No, it’s not from… from in there. Yes, Melanie. Her name is Melanie.

Georgie just stares at Melanie, like she’s seeing her for the first time, and whispers, “It… it was supposed to be safe. She said it would be safe.”

Then, the door shudders, in a way that doors should not be able to move. It twists, and implodes and explodes in equal measure, and becomes everything that it is not and everything that it has always been, and then, in a transition that Martin’s brain refuses to process, the door becomes not a door becomes Jon, slumped onto the hard-packed dirt of the in-between that exists in places that aren’t feared.

“Shit, shit, Jon!” Martin cries, and then he’s kneeling at Jon’s side, and oh god, is he breathing? There are curling lines pulsing just beneath the surface of Jon’s skin, stained a color that it hurts Martin’s eyes to look at and shifting in impossibly intricate patterns that fold in on themselves in ways beyond the confines of dimensionality. Martin places a careful hand on Jon’s face, and then pulls it back with a bitten-out curse. It’s like touching an open flame. “Jon, can you hear me? I- I need you to wake up, Jon. You’re- you’re out of there, you’re safe. I- I think she’s gone. Helen. It. Whatever. So you- you can wake up.”

Martin looks at Jon, at the stillness of his face, at the lack of rise-and-fall of his chest, and feels a nausea born of six months of waiting and grieving and loss rising within him once again. “Jon, please.”

He hesitates, just a moment, before steeling himself and placing a hand on Jon’s face once again. The heat is instantaneous, and Martin feels a scream of agony well up within him; he bites his tongue around it and refuses to move. With fingers on fire and spiral lines beginning to wind their way up his wrist, Martin moves his hand over Jon’s eyes, and tries, very hard, to remember what it felt like when Jon had done the same, standing outside yet another domain of fear and staring at the Panopticon in the distance, and had said, in that gentle voice that Martin adores more than anything, “Can you see it?”

“Yes,” Martin said, in a voice strangled by tears. “Yes, I- I can see it.” The cabin, where they had spent three weeks—three lovely, fleeting weeks—that might be the only weeks they would ever get, now dissolved into an eager host for those who wished for respite. And everything else, as he felt Beholding rush into him and through him, and he finally understood, if only a little, what it was to be an Archivist. Though he hadn’t told Jon that. And Jon, true to his word, had never looked.

Martin Looks now, as he calls upon a connection he so desperately wishes were not there, but that has been hardened through curiosity and certainty and a love for that which the Eye holds dearest above all else, and hopes desperately that it’s enough. “Jon, I need you to look,” he says, voice strangled in agony as the spiraling lines begin to thread through his chest. “Can you see it? Can… can you see me?”

The tears that drip from his nose sizzle into vapor against a hand that wishes nothing more than to let go. In a voice barely audible over the sobs threatening to rip their way from his throat, Martin says, “Can. You. See. Me?”

The Spiral curls and pulses against his heart, and Jon opens his Eyes.

“For the last time,” Jon says stubbornly, “I am fine—”

His words dissolve into a series of stuttered, distorted noises, not unlike that of a record skipping or a tape recorder rewinding, as the spirals still laced under his skin dance with quiet laughter and he glitches. Martin really, really tries not to laugh when Jon snaps back into himself with a sulking frown etched onto his face, but, well.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says at the affronted look Jon gives him. “Look, I know you want to get back to our terribly journey into Mordor, to throw the ring into Mount Doom and all that, but it’s going to be really hard to travel when you’re still not recovered from- from the supernatural equivalent of a really bad infection. You almost died, Jon.”

“It’s not—” Jon cuts off with a frustrated groan. “I just. I don’t like waiting.”

“I know.” Martin places a hand on Jon’s arm and pulls him in for a gentle embrace. Jon folds into him, and Martin tries to ignore the way that the spirals still entangled with his veins and tendons pulse in quiet relief as they’re brought closer to that from which they came. Tries to ignore the way that Jon’s eyes, just for a moment, swirl with a thousand colors never seen. “But we have time. Basira’s still trying to hunt down that lead on Jonah’s weakness, whatever that means, and Melanie and Georgie are still recovering.” He lets out a sigh and holds Jon just a bit tighter. “Christ, they spent two years in there, Jon. Or, at- at least what counts as two years in that place. And Helen never told us. She smiled, and laughed, and told us she was here to help, and the entire time two of our friends were just- just lost inside her!”

“I think she meant to,” Jon says quietly. His breath tickles the side of Martin’s neck as he pulls back, just enough to look Martin in the eyes, then away at the ground. “To help. The corridors, they- they were safer than what’s out there, at the start. She was safer at the start. But over time she just…” He sighs. “This world, it isn’t kind to those who cling to their humanity. And I suppose she just found it easier, in the end. To let go. After that…”

“… Melanie and Georgie were just an unfinished meal,” Martin says, and Jon reluctantly nods. “Yeah, I get it. That doesn’t make it right. You’ve clung to your humanity well enough.”

With a smile, Jon says, “Well, I certainly had help.”

“Flatterer,” Martin says, and presses a light kiss to Jon’s lips. There’s a static that lingers after Martin pulls back, prickling his mouth with pins and needles; he wonders, absently, if that’s something he’ll have to get used to. The static, and the glitching, and the spirals inked upon their skin in mirrored concentricity. Perhaps it’s a part of them now, just as the eyes that gaze lovingly upon the Archivist stare within and through him and the swirling mist that longs to claim what once was its still lingers within Martin. Perhaps it’s just another mark: another story for the Archive.

Jon flickers once more, the distortion sending shockwaves of staticky laughter and dizzying wrongness through Martin. This time, when he groans, it’s in resignation.

“I… see your point,” he concedes, and he sounds so grumpy that Martin can’t quite fight back another smile. Jon pulls free from Martin’s embrace, though a hand lingers on Martin’s before he threads their fingers together and squeezes lightly. “But soon.”

Martin squeezes Jon’s hand in return, and feels a bit of that unnatural heat return as he does so. “Soon.”

Jon smiles softly, the lines that spiral through his face and cluster around his eyes smiling in kind, and Martin can’t help but feel that this is not a sickness that can be cured by time. Soon, he promises himself, as he guides Jon back to the cluster of blankets and sleeping bags they’ve been calling a bed, and hopes that the lies he tells himself will appease those that now make themselves home within their souls.

#whumptober2020 #no.21 #i don't feel so well #the magnus archives #fic #unreality cw

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