#and its!! so. depressing. anyways ignore this i just needed to write this down somewhere
Hi. I don’t know if requests are still open or not, but I was wondering if you could do some headcannons of Hector, Isaac, Alucard and Trevor helping their S/O through a panic attack??
If you feel uncomfortable writing this or if requests are closed please feel free to ignore this request. I hope you are well and staying safe 💞
Ask: Hi. I don’t know if requests are still open or not, but I was wondering if you could do some headcanons of Hector, Isaac, Alucard, and Trevor helping their S/O through a panic attack??
If you feel uncomfortable writing this or if requests are closed please feel free to ignore this request. I hope you are well and staying safe 💞
A/N: Requests are still closed as of right now, but this one made it in before that- I’m just a super slow tortoise when it comes to getting things done. (I think I’ve had like a year of writer’s block. That or it was just a major depressive episode… Who’s to say?) Anyways, onwards and upwards! Here is how I think Hector, Isaac, Alucard, and Trevor would help their S/O through a panic attack. I hope they're good, normally when I'm panicking I just let myself freak tf out lol
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Hector:
Hector knows exactly what a panic attack is. Okay, well maybe he doesn’t know all the psychology behind it, but he’s had plenty himself, so he understands how overwhelming they can feel.
He may not pick up on the fact that you’re having one right away if he’s preoccupied with making night creatures at the moment. But he’s also one to worry about you- he’s lost almost everyone he’s loved in some way or another, so he makes a point of checking in between every couple of creations.
He’ll see your labored breathing, the fear in your eyes, or the way you bend your body in half and know immediately that something is wrong. He’s learned from observing your behavior: which words and movements mean you’re happy and which ones mean you need help.
He’ll physically come over to you, and place a reassuring hand on your shoulder. If you’re in his workshop, or somewhere else that isn’t exactly an ideal calm spot, he’ll usher you- carry you even- if he has to, to a safer place where the two of you can sit quietly.
If you’re okay with being touched, he’ll hold you close to him, placing one of his hands on the small of your back. Using the other, he’ll grasp one of your hands and bring it to his chest so you can focus on the rhythm of his heartbeat.
He takes deep calming breaths and urges you to match yours to his.
Once you're past the worst of it, he’ll leave you alone momentarily to go and make the two of you tea. The two of you can sip your tea and enjoy the company of your many adorable undead pets together. It may be unnerving to some, but to you, when you’re all together, it helps make the world look less intimidating.
Isaac:
Isaac doesn't panic often, or, well, ever to be quite honest. He used to be terrified as a kid, but now that he’s a man in charge of his own destiny, that’s all behind him. That doesn’t mean he’s unaware of your feelings or anything. As a matter of fact, he prefers the focus to be on your feelings so he doesn’t have to share his.
The first thing he has you do is drink some ice-cold water, to help your brain shift its focus from your overwhelming feelings to the shocking and quite refreshing feeling of the cool liquid going down your throat.
The second thing he does is rub soothing circles into the pulse points on both your wrists. He learned from an acupuncturist in one of his many travels, that these points, called the Great Abyss and the Spirit Gate respectively, are good pressure points to use in alleviating feelings of anxiety.
Thirdly, he makes sure those in and around the palace respect your privacy. He ushers any passersby away and uses his night creatures to reroute people to ensure no one other than him sees you in this state. He doesn’t want you to feel negatively judged for having feelings, because he lived his life like that for so long and he knows how awful it is.
Once you’ve reached the peak of your panic attack and begin to come down, he’ll ask if you want to talk about what triggered you in the first place. After all, he is the King of Styria now. If it’s something he can change in the palace, or in the way people work, you can bet he’s going to fix it for your benefit.
If it isn’t something he or you can change, but rather something you have no other choice but to live with, he mentally makes peace with it and urges you to do the same. Yes, feelings of panic are scary and they mess up your entire day, but if this is a part of who you are, he doesn’t want you to feel in any way angry at yourself or at fault. People carry all different burdens, this one just happens to be yours. And Isaac is more than happy, to let you know, you don’t carry this one alone.
Alucard:
Alucard is pretty stoic most of the time, at least, he tries to be. He’s not used to vocalizing or expressing how he feels. Hell, he doesn’t even really know how to process all that he feels, much less share it. So it’s safe to say, being a knowledgeable and comforting presence is foreign to him.
Greta and Sypha do end up teaching him a little bit, but you’re gonna have to be very honest and open with him going forward if you want him to anticipate your needs beyond eating and sleeping every once in a while.
You’d most likely come to him and tell him. Either with an “Alucard, I need you,” or even a whispered, “Help.” And he’d come running, like superspeed running, over to you.
Are you hurt? Are you bleeding? He’s checking for blood. No blood! Okay, any bruises? No bruises! He’s going through the physical list when he notices the way you’re trembling, the way you keep grasping at your chest, and the way you keep shaking your head ‘no’. He soon realizes it's not that kind of injury.
He takes you to your room and sets you gently on the bed. He asks you directly: what can he do, and what do you need? Whatever it is he’ll get it, or he’ll ask for someone else to get it, so he can stay there in the meantime and hold you.
He lets you play with his hair, something he rarely does, to keep your mind occupied on something else. He’ll even shift into his wolf form if you’d prefer a big fluffy doggie to cuddle with.
Stemming off of what he’s learned from Sypha and Greta, he reminds you how much he loves you, and how much you mean to him. He thinks you’re a wonderful person- brave and strong. Panic attacks don’t change that. And he’s not upset or even shocked- life is scary, and your guys’ life has been very scary.
Basically Alucard just wants you to know that even though he isn’t an expert at emotions, he’ll stay by your side, throughout it all.
Trevor:
Trevor actually used to have panic attacks a lot as a kid, but back then he had his family to help him through it. After they were taken from him, he shut down emotionally- something he needed to do to survive. So now, his emotional IQ isn’t the greatest. That doesn’t mean he’s not observant though.
Being a trained monster hunter, he’s good at reading people. He can spot fear or aggression from a distance, and he’d definitely be able to sense panic in you.
He would want to make sure the two of you are in a place and position for you to freak out freely, preferably away from prying strangers’ eyes. It’s not that he’s embarrassed, he just wants the two of you to feel safe enough to calm down, and it’s hard to do that with a bunch of judgemental eyes on you.
Trevor’s priority is safety: so once the two of you are clear of people (or night creatures), he turns his attention to you. He instructs you to take deep breaths: in through your nose and out through your mouth- he remembers reading something about that in one of his family’s books a long time ago.
If you’re not too hot, or in the middle of an anxiety-driven hot flash, he’ll offer you his coat/cloak to grip on or to cocoon yourself in. If you choose the former, he’ll place a reassuring hand on your shoulder, and practice his breathing with you. If you prefer the latter, he’ll pick your wrapped-up form and cradle you in his lap. And he’ll tell you stories from a happier time in his life- something he doesn’t share with anyone other than you- to distract your mind. It’s his way of being vulnerable with you.
Trevor knows he comes off as stony, bitter, and just completely over-it in general, but he never wants you to think he feels that way about you. He loves you, and he prides himself on his ability to protect you and keep you safe. You’re his family now. He’s going to stick through it all with you- thick and thin.
He might even softly sing some of the old Romanian lullabies his mother used to sing to him. But that’s only if you’re really, really panicked. Once you start teasing him about how he’s really just a big softie, he knows you’re going to be just fine.
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thoughts for today..
So, it’s pretty late in the evening here. Trying to get myself to start winding down. Although you and I both know how much of a struggle that is for me.. LOL. I’ve already considered doing a deep clean of my room.. It’s gotten pretty bad and I haven’t really done it since I moved in here 2 years ago... Yeah, clutter. Clutter EVERYWHERE because I’m a pack rat and never and I do mean never throw anything away. Memories, you know? But, maybe I need to start learning how to let some of those go.. kind of cleanse my surroundings so I can cleanse my soul. Rid myself of the baggage I carry around all the time. Heavy shit too.. I’ve been told I’m pretty hard on myself and I know it’s true but.. It’s hard to just, not expect so much more of myself when I should be looking for ways to cope and acamodate (sp?) myself I ridicule and put myself down or just straight ignore the fact that I know I may need extra help here and there with life things.. enough to where I just struggle on my own until I break down eventually.. I gotta work on that for sure. I’m going to start writing posts on here every day if I can, but I”m not going to set an impossible goal once again so, you’ll see something from me semi often I hope. Just to kinda get things out of my head and onto some kind of outlet/platform. I’m no artist, I can’t sing or write songs, I dont really exercise, I don’t do planners, I don’t do anything to let things go, let things out. I could just start randomly screaming I guess, but that may become alarming to some, So writing it is, or well, typing it is, Seeing as unfortunately I cannot write with a pen/pencil on paper anymore without my hand starting to cramp up after less than a page of hand writing,, it kills me to have to do this because I love the simple art of writing in a notebook with a new favorite pen and smelling the ink on paper.. but oh well, this will do. :/ enough depressing stuff though, today was okay I guess. It’s my last day off of the week and I got to spend it in court this morning, .Luckily things went how I’d hoped. I got an extention on my community service due date. Just a week, but that gives me time to finish the 11 out of 15 hours I have left. Hopefully I can anyways work around my work schedule. I work 4 out of the 7 days of the week. Hopefully soon to be 5 so I can start making some real money. I’m so excited for my first full paycheck (2 weeks worth of hours). I’m going to feel rich, it’s the most I’ve ever really made somewhere and I”m stoked to see the results of my hard work. I’ve really been busting my ass at this new job. Its another housekeeping position but at a sort of new place. I’m full time @ the La Quinta Inn and Suites now. Cleaning rooms.. fun fun fun. But its a job and an easy one at that, .Well, maybe a little physically taxing but I need that forced bit of exercise every day. I’ve been gaining weight again so this will slim down a smidge. Not that I really want to lose weight I just don’t want to sit around like a blob anymore. I’ve also been doing a lil side hustle.. it’s risky but it getting me through this last gap of no check until next week. I have help, but I think I”m okay at it myself. It’s also not very hard.. just risky if youre not smart about yourself. So i try to be as not dumb as possible in this business. The consequences are more than I’m really willing to face. But, if that day was to ever come of course I would face it. Aint no fuck shit in this bitch. I unlike a lot of people I know really knows and practices respect and loyalty. I wish some people could really see that and appreciate it for what it is... but oh well, thats a song I need to stop singing.. a broken record I’ve got to quit playing. If he loved me, I know where he would be,. and he’s not there so.. that tells me all I need to know. Or it should, I’m just stubborn and really honestly still want to hang on.. I really don’t know why. Matt says Stockholm Syndrome.. I kind of can believe that to be plausible.. just sucks knowing that that is what I had to come to accept as love.. because that’s all he knows how to show it.. and I knew the things I had to endure were worth it because, it meant he cared about me. He hurt me the most because he loved me the most... right? Ha.. yeah, right.. I miss him every day still, I can’t tell you why or how I can still say that and truly mean it but I do. I miss the good times.. I even sometimes miss the attention that came with the not so bad times.. the bad times though, I don’t miss. And wouldnt wish on anyone that has so much love for someone that continuously tries to intimidate, hurt, embarrass or punish them so they can feel big.. I would do anything for him. I did do anything for him.. Every day... And I still would would it not be for his habit of being physically and mentally abusive on a daily basis.. I wish he never had to go through the things that made him into the kind of man he is today. I wish no one had to.. I wish someone had been there to show him real love, to protect him, to give him a real childhood.. to not have it robbed from him at such a young fragile stage in his development as a person.. I wish that I could have loved the bad away. I tried so hard to love his pain away, his past, his rage.. I tried so so hard to show him what real love was. What it really felt like but.. He didn’t know what to do with it when I had such a compulsion to give it all I had. To give him all of me, every ounce of my being I wanted him to know I used to love him with. My heart beat for him, the blood in my veins still runs so hot for him and his touch.. His eyes on me.. the way his hands felt on me,. All over me.. the way his kiss felt all the way down my body.. teasing me in the end. Making the anticipation eat me alive before finally relieving me of my yearning.. letting me have all that I wanted of him.. It was so much about that though, so much of my love for him stemmed for the passion I felt for him during those times,, And I fell so hard for him physically.. It’s so crazy.. but thats how he works. That;s how he gets you. Really any woman.. but goodness.... I know it was real with me. And no one can tell me otherwise. How hard he’d give it to me.. How deep he would go.. making me feel like I’d become a part of him and he of me.. Him making just as much noise as I did.. not being able to contain his pleasure in what he was doing to me.. How good it felt.. grabbing my hair from behind me and gripping harder with every stroke.. ugh.. telling me when he wanted me to cum for him.. and goddamn did that make me lose it. Worked like a charm everytime that hot breath in my ear with those words.. that demand.. to show just how much control he had over my body in those moments. His voice.. fuck.. rough and low.. me responding with shakes all throughout my body as that pleasure pulsed through my entirety.. over and over again. Making me say his name amidst the cussing I always let out when I’m being railed right.. god bless america.. well this turned into something entirely different than what I had anticipated but.. I can dig it. LOL wonder how much content I could come with that would actually be acceptable as something worth reading,. God bless. Now I’m sitting here all uncomfortably hot and bothered. I wish he’d come fuck me one last time,. making sure I never forget who did it right.. always.. who changed my life in soooo many ways; not even just in hed either but i won’t get too emotional about it right now. Theres absolutely no excuse for the way he got me wrapped aroumd his finger.. Using sex as a bribe worse than candy for a fucking baby..Anyways,. this is probaly a pretty good stopping point. I’ll never understand how he could pick her over the shit we do .. but ohh well.. It hurts less and less everytime I’ve been reminded which gets less and less often as each day passes.. Okay, goodnight everybody.
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Could you talk more about sam and max being autistic idk I just like hearing your thoughts about it your doc was cool
you come to me on the day of my daughters wedding and ask me about sam and max autism headcanons, forcing me to open tumblr and start writing what ive been thinking recently about maxs autism in relation to him in 305
i talked about this in private a bit but i think 305 could be taken as an allegory for maxs giant autism and thinking you dont feel things the right way with ASD
-max turns into a giant horrible monster in 305, this could be taken as him literally seeing himself as a monster and the whole town, all their friends, see him as such and want him DEAD all except sam whos constantly vouching for max this entire episode. at the end when superego was like "wow! max is actually capable of self sacrifice! amazing!" sam says "told you so." very smug because he knew all along, he always knew max was capable of kindness and love because he sees it firsthand every day!
theyre partners and best friends, of course he knows him better than he knows himself. Literally in this case, where superego, personification of part of maxs brain, thinks hes not capable of feeling things in a normal, proper way, max doesnt think that about HIMSELF, superegos issue with max (maxs issue with himself lol) is that he thinks hes capable of more and max is just ignoring him he says specifically hes tried to push max towards the finer things in life and being more proper (max trying to push himself? talking about max and superego as separate when theyre essentially the same is so hard #HELP.) he thinks hes selfish and cruel and not capable of a selfless act.
theres even a line superego says to sam where he says "you of all people should be able to understand my frustration after years of being partnered with a creature driven by pure id" which is like. does max think sam gets frusterated with him and doesnt want him as a partner because of the way that he Is. max. this is a nice little parallel to sam just last episode having that thought "max is getting so powerful now soon he wont even need me :(" but thats getting away from my point a little. (veering into max depression discussion which is a whole can of worms on its own, but it is worth mentioning autism and depression often go hand in hand and some of maxs self worth issues can be attributed to feeling weird about his autism traits)
anyways of course max was capable of a selfless act, of course he would save sybil and her baby, he loves sybil and he loves babies and he has a lot of love in his little heart. so skipping ahead a bit to the biggest scene in sam and max that baffle and confuse millions, maxs reaction to coming back to sam.
a lot of people are confused by maxs nonchalance and casual retelling of the horrible events that apparently went down in his timeline where he had to kill his sam. (interestingly but a little off topic, he specifically says HE blew sam up, whereas in this tl, max killed HIMSELF, sam didnt do a thing. in fact he wouldve probably stayed trying to save him until they both blew up if superego hadnt convicned him itd be tooootally fine to leave. seriously sam its OK hes NOT going to blow up i promise. ok bye bye."
so max comes back, immediately tries to jump back into normalcy and jokes and feels unsure and uncomfortable when sam doesnt reciprocate. he looks confused when sam hugs him even. a lot of people are like "what the hell did he mean by this" but TBH as someone with ASD and lots of experience in the "getting bad news over the phone and then going to a funeral" pipeline i really felt a mind and soul connection with max there! this is mentioned somewhere int he sam and max bible for the cartoon but steve purcell writes something along the lines of "max sees things differently from anyone else" on the topic of his strange reactions to things. which is like. You have autism ->
theres an unskippable line in 305 right before you get to the endgame where sam says "why does max have tear ducts? i cant remember the last time ive seen max cry." and then immediately gets into maxs juxtaposed reaction to sams death to sams absolute MISERY over maxs. max might not feel grief in the way people would expect from a person. he might not even be sad. he might not feel things in the "proper" or "normal" way but that doesnt make him a 50 foot shambling eldritch monster, hes just wired differently. as someone with autism ive felt it too where i dont think i feel things in the right way. if something really sad and fucked up happens to me i dont feel sad and the only thing im immediately concerned with is feeling uncomfortable with watching the people around me crying which, as im typing this, makes me feel like a monster freak for being so cold and cruel, but thats the point im trying to get at, 305 could be read as an allegory for this exact feeling.. because at the end of the day max is just max and sam is happy to see him and accept him as he is. hes not a monster, hes just sams partner and best friend and its ok to be exactly the way he is without feeling the need to change
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I'm not sure if you have already done something like this before, and if you did, please let me know, I'd love to read it, BUT I was wondering if you could do a little thing, maybe with Sebastian Zöllner, where he is like totally behind on every fucking deadline, work is just piling up, he got into stress with his ex, the dishes are not done, he should go take out the trash, you know, everything is just piling up and he just cracks under the pressure, severely doubting his worth as a person. And his friend, the reader, gotta try their best to build him up again, telling him all the things they love about him, and it slowly turns into a love confession without them noticing.
Is this too elaborate, does that make sense for Seb? Idk. To me it does? Like he's always very...Seb around other people, but deep down I feel like he's always under this pressure to live up to his own and others expectations, wanting to be big and famous and perfect in a way.
I'm so sorry, brain go brrr.
Never Enough [Sebastian Zöllner x Reader]
Word Count: 4k
Warnings: bad habits (heavy smoking and drinking), self deprecation, depression and some fluff in the end.
A/N: I loved this prompt, I love to write Sebastian so thanks to you once more for giving me this opportunity
He should have probably realised something was wrong when the ashtray was vomiting cigarettes out from its dooming position beside the laptop.
He nervously used the left part of the one he just ended to scavenge some space and just pressed it along the others.
Or maybe when after another sip of the same cold coffee mixed with cheap gin he felt the walls of his stomach revolting and stirring against him, threatening a much bigger damage.
Or, again, when he felt like calling back Elke because he was so alone and he was hungry and tired, and she might hate him but he could pull some puppy eyes and maybe it would work. It usually did.
The truth was that he shouldn’t have taken up so many jobs, but the bank account was crying and he needed them, he needed the money.
But again: writing about the umpteenth girl- artist performing naked on a famous historic location?
Or do we have to talk about the way somebody splashed some colour here and there on a canvas saying it is the catharsis of his young mind against the social construct?
Please, may God spare him from the man calling himself landscape artist because he takes pictures of naked girls on a field.
Charged up with this amount of nothingness, he could just write and delete, write and delete, words count going quickly up to 400 only to go back at 0 in a snap of his fingers over the buttons, because he couldn’t just tear them down. He had to give them some hope, a glimpse of potential he couldn’t see and he wasn’t even aware it existed. Each of them disgusted him, but he was specifically asked to be entertaining and not a killer with his words.
So he kept swiping up videos and photos of these artists, trying to find one thing, one holy grail to get attached to and finally write one good optimistic line in the middle of the words he had to pull up to keep a moderate tone.
He rubbed his temple running over his hairline, which by the way was perfectly fine, before his hand reached down and he touched his t-shirt pulling on the neckline to gather some air, he was wearing his pyjama still, white stained shirt on blue tartan pants. He raised up the shirt and bowed his head down giving in a long inhale from the inside and just cringed to himself.
He looked around as he couldn’t stand up, if he did then he will get only more distracted and these articles needed to be ready for tomorrow.
He noticed the spray against the mosquitos on the floor, those little bastards always hiding under his desk to bite his ankles, he picked it up and sprayed it over himself like it was perfume hoping to ignore the need of a shower for few more hours.
His eyes scanned the small studio flat he was living now: the dishes sticking out of the sink, the noisy fridge buzzing. The one table that was also his work desk filled with used mugs, stained plates covered in cigarettes and leftovers, empty packages of his favourite brand discarded everywhere: from the bathroom up to the couch and to the small bed he owned. Damn, if he run out of cigarette it will be hard to ignore how he also run out of food.
The space was dark and gloomy, some of his stuff still packed up, the fake pop art panting of him and Elke staring at him reminding him of his other loss.
He didn’t touch the bed in days, he just slept on the seat or on the couch.
His attention was attracted by his phone buzzing.
He sat up straight as it was her, it was Elke.
Did she sense his discomfort?
“Elke” he picked up the call in a second.
“Wow, a quick answer, did you have your phone already in your hand or it happens just so late at night?”
Her sarcasm did’t go past him, but he just thought how long it was since he heard a human voice and not the recording of some idiot calling himself artist.
“No, I was thinking of you”
“Yes, sure, look I have sent you an email with the bills of the time you were here, the ones you have left to pay and it is only fair that you pay at least half of them”
“Sure” he just said it because he wanted to go past the point of money, he wanted her back. Maybe he could crush at her place, feel her hands through his hair, shower, sleep some good sleep and the articles will come around in few types “Elke, I was thinking we might…”
“I just called you for the bills”
“I know, but maybe we could have” his eyes darted at the top right of his laptop screen to see the time “a drink together?”
She huffed a laughter as he frowned lightly “I know you Seb, if it is money or sex what you’re looking for that door is closed and it has been for a long time”
“I know” he murmured as he let out a breathy sigh, a dooming sense of loneliness creeping over him like a giant spider ready to wrap him up and eat him “I just hoped…”
“Don’t hope Sebastian, you’re already an hopeless cause”
She hung up on him and he was left there, he kept that same pose with his phone against his ear. His eyes trailing once again over the empty page of his document on the screen, on the chaos surrounding him.
He nibbled on his bottom lip before running his tongue over the pained area.
He pushed the phone back down on the table with a tremble of his jaw and a shaky hand.
She was right.
What he did of his life anyway? He lost most of his occasions in life, he was now in his thirties and he concluded nothing of what he hoped to be, he failed in all the departments both as an artist and as a critic.
A jack of all trades is a master of none, and maybe only the first type of the famous quote could be applied to him.
He couldn’t even take the trash out or he couldn’t remember the last time he ate something that was vaguely resembling of fruits or vegetables. It is all good when you imagine yourself as a bohemian rooting against the world, when you convince yourself that’s only the proof you needed to know you are fighting well against a system of art that privileges banality and marketing over real artistic value and that, one day, all your struggles will be worth it.
Even Picasso was poor for a long time in Paris.
Damn, maybe to be in a situation like this in Paris would sound more romantic.
But the truth was: he never imagined to have to do it alone, that life would feel so overwhelming, that there wouldn’t be anything but extreme struggle, anger, loneliness and a terrible diet.
For a moment he wished to be a baby again, to be the bright boy he was and let mommy take care of his needs and his dirty shirt and empty stomach. He wished that maybe somebody noticed him before, that somebody saw his talent and helped him to pull it out instead of leaving him to do it on his own only to come late to every step.
And now it is too late, he is lost in the sea of terrible paid jobs and anguishing relationships, let’s not forget maybe he indeed had a receding hairline and he was doomed to get bold .
He squeezed his eyes as a soft sob took over his lip, hand running over his forehead as he pulled on his hair justifying his tears with some physical pain. He shook his head as he tried to gain back some composure, hand flung over to pick up his coffee mug and giving in a long gulp of the coffee, the same one he swore before to not touch again, only to almost choke on it, couching it out only to pick up the bottom hem of his shirt to clean his laptop screen.
He fucking hated to write on a computer, the old typewriters inspired him but that damn ink was too expensive now for his sore pockets.
He smirked to himself as he kept doing it, finding good excuses to call himself off any responsibility. But maybe Elke was right, well she surely was, she had two degrees, maybe he was really a lot cause.
He frowned as he wiped slowly the screen with his already stained shirt, the wetness sticking then against his skin as soon as he let it go giving him another shiver.
He didn’t have even the strength to cry, he could only accept it was over.
The curse that he shouted out loud when he heard knocking at the door, smashing him out of his thought spiral, generated an immediate anger reaction from him.
“Fuck, shit, if it is the fucking neighbour, I swear I will kill her cat or that rat she has as cat, fucking hell”
He grumbled as he stood up moving across the table not caring about his state, he only wanted to crawl back into a ball and maybe nuzzle a bit somewhere.
When his death glare appeared after the door opened in a powerful swing his eyebrows lifted immediately finding you on the other side.
He blinked, one of those sleepy blinks where somebody closes his eyes and then opens them really wide to make sure it is not made up in their brain, that one.
His eyebrows furrowed as he stared at you
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
“You should wash your mouth with holy water Sebastian” you said shaking your head raising your arms to show him some paper bags “I am bringing food and body shower”
He shook his head “Are you calling me stinky?”
“I am” You quickly replied moving past him into his place ignoring his groan.
He stood by the door slowly closing it, he was sure that old bitch was looking through her peephole, only then he stared at you try to make your way into the filthy kitchen. He was really embarrassed about his antics, but surely this time he exceeded some record.
“I am speechless Seb, I helped you with the moving and this place seems to have taken over you” you said as you knew he was in some rut when he kept such a long phone silence.
He was usually always texting, sending memes or one sentence texts.
You cared about him, deeply, you knew he was full of flaws and little quirks, but that’s what made him special. Nevertheless, you were worried about the state of the place, how it showed the way he let himself get dragged through the days.
So he observed you, better to say, your back, the way you moved around opening the window to let fresh air inside, turning on a lamp to make some light that wasn’t just the blue one of the screen. Pulling out commodities and food from your magic bags like some sort of Mary Poppins of struggling writers.
How you poured soap in the dirty load of dishes and pans, the way you marched securely to his desk to pick up that filthy mug and you frowned just sniffing at it.
“Is that poison?”
“Rat poison” he corrected you.
You shook your head as you cleaned a glass and filled it with water and among the groceries you pulled out a banana.
“Have this now, it will help” you said and he took the glass with one hand and the banana with the other like his brain was shut down.
He stared at you as you leaned your head slightly on side, he went through bad times after the break up but you had never seen him in such a helpless state.
He was chaotic but he always loved to keep up his appearance, to give that handsome and damned kind of vibe.
“Sebastian” you called him as his eyes spaced out and now where back on you “Are you alright?”
He observed you, he stared at your face like he was trying to recognise you, truth it was he kept pushing himself to say yes, say yes, say it is all good, make a joke, a remark, keep it up. You don’t need his burden, you don’t need to hate him like Elke and others do.
Just say yes.
“No” he said as his lips trembled and you watched his ironic mask fall right in front of you as he looked away hiding his tears, real tears, not the ones he can play out whenever he needs.
Just as quickly as you gave him the banana and the water you took them off his hands afraid he might hurt himself by dropping the glass in particular.
"Seb" you called his attention as he sobbed moving like a bird trying to hide his face against his own shoulder.
You took his now empty hands dragging him toward the couch and kicking off the pile of dirty clothes and discarded books on top of it to make him sit down with you.
"Talk to me"
He didn't, the man that was never out of words, even in the times he should have been, was now silent as a tombstone staring away from you as you gave a gentle squeeze to his hands. It pained you to see him in such a state.
So weak, so helpless like a lost child.
"I can't help you if you don't talk"
Sebastian shook his head still staring at the wall.
"You can't help me"
"Is it about writing? I can proof read you, it will be a moment"
He shook his head again making, hair bouncing from side to side.
"No, it is not important if I write or not"
You frowned at that comment.
"What the hell?" you just blurted out "Seb you're a talented writer, you're passionate, funny, witty, why shouldn't it be important?"
He looked up at you shaking his head "I can't write, I can't put together two sentences"
Your eyes travelled onto his side profile, truth to be told he looked worn out but he was still handsome like only Sebastian Zöllner could be. He had that chaotic charm, even with a wrinkled suit he was fearless, strong, poignant. You couldn't avoid him, he owned every place he stepped in and you could feel his gaze run through your bloodstream.
When he asks a question, he meant it, it was a test run into your bones and you loved every second of it.
His lips tightened as he diverted his gaze finally to you. You knew his relationship with Elke was important, he cared about others even if he didn't show it daily like most people do.
"Is it Elke?"
"No, she was just right"
"About what?"
He gulped, his throat dry as he pulled his bottom lip in his mouth grinding his teeth over it like playing something through that gesture.
"About me"
"Breakups are always shit, don't you even.."
"No Y/N" he interrupted you, he was serious, maybe his voice trembled but he wasn't lying or playing some role "I am really a lost cause, I mean look at his place"
His hand waved around the small flat like a drunk orchestra director.
"It is pure trash, I haven't finished unpacking, I didn't have food until you came, I am unable to look after myself, to look after the people that I care about. I worked so hard to be an artist and then I became a critic and now I am so knee deep into my own shit that I have more debts than entries, more failures than successes, more haters than friends"
He gulped down, the waterline of his eyes dangerously red and he sniffled up as he let out a little weak whisper "I just wish I could disappear"
"No"
It came out of you like a lighting bolt, it surged out of you before you could even elaborate. Like an order. A command.
"Seb, you're now in a rough patch of life, but you have always worked hard and well as a writer"
"I am a writer because I failed as an artist"
"You're a writer because you know of what you're talking about, because you're able to see the difference between marketing and passion, between hard work and laziness, because you respect that profession and it makes you the best critic"
"I just want to destroy them all because I am envious, Elke always said I am fuelled by my own envy”
"I have read pieces of yours only encouraging the rightful and bringing down the real frauds"
He shook his head as he was just fixating on the wrong, on the flaws, on the problems.
You huffed cupping his cheeks to force him to look at your eyes.
"Look at me" you said not admitting replies "you are talented in what you do, you are one of the best in your field and you're not on some big magazine only because they know they will have to put up with your shit: with the fact you always meet the people, you look at art pieces in presence, you touch them, you research the colours, you scrutinise everything to the bone"
He took your hands hating to be held like that but he squeezed them in his owns.
"And yes, you're allergic to ironing clothes and washing dishes is your personal nightmare, and yes, you give out many temper tantrums and have a terribly dark sense of humour, you are a failure at time and money management, you love filthy rich stuff and smoke like your life depends on it"
He stared at you, he listened quietly as you knew him from so long and many people, Elke included, wondered what you gained from helping him or just being around him that much. He often teased his ex about being jealous of you and she always said that it was like being jealous of a mortgage.
"So you agree?"
"I agree to say you are flawed like all of us, that you are just the perfect balance to your writing, you're what you write. You're passionate, you give out the two hundred percent of what you can give, you are like this, you go all-in in everything you do, there's no compromise, no mid way, no foreseeable change of direction, you speed up into the darkness and don't look back. You are bold, you take risks, you let people hate you because you do not compromise with who is son of who or who is the director of what gallery, you judge people over their real qualities. Because you talk to them in their face, because you don't hide that yes, you want to be great, because you're handsome and charming and smart, nobody can outsmart you in your field, not even that idiot you hate that much"
"Golo Fucking Moser" he murmured
"Golo Fucking Moser" you repeated with a chuckle "you don't have anything to envy to him beside the bruises he probably has on his knees for bending down to anyone"
He chuckled at that comment.
"And also, you're more attractive, that pisses off Seb, it is unfair to the poor man”
He leaned his head on side as you wouldn't normally shower him in compliments, he had enough ego for that, but you had never seen him like this and you wished to never see him again in such a state.
"You find me attractive?"
"Well for sure you're an eye candy" you joked
"I mean it"
You rolled your eyes blushing a bit and huffing a chuckle "I do, alight? It is universal knowledge"
He looked at you as he still held your hands in his, his thumbs making soft shapes over the back of your hand.
"That I am attractive or that you find me attractive?"
You groaned looking away with an embarrassed giggle “okay, okay, I see you're back in yourself, let's eat now"
You moved to stand up but he didn't do the same remaining sat in his spot.
"Tell me"
"I pumped your self esteem enough, now let me go"
He chuckled softly, he never really thought you'd be interested. He usually shows off so many bad traits that he has to tone himself down and really try hard to attract someone. It is all an effort on his part to appear better or at least less quirky.
And then now look at you, appreciating even his shit show.
"Y/N" he murmured giving you a soft squeeze. You kept silent not daring now to meet his gaze. He bowed his head trying to reach for your eyes with his gaze and he looked up at you, a smile that wasn't provocative over his lips.
You pulled back yanking your wrists off his grip to move straight into the kitchen corner.
You begun pulling ut some fresh vegetables and bread, you also got some cheese knowing he loves it, wanting him to have a good dinner.
He followed you almost immediately and soon you found his arms grasping you once more in a hug, his chest pressed against your back, his forehead on your shoulder.
"Seb, you..."
"I know, I stink, just give me a moment" he said and you obliged him gently caressing his arms around you.
You hated to be in the friend zone, but you wouldn't be able to survive to lose him forever or to have him joke about it.
Now he was quiet, tender like a hurt pup.
"Thank you, you know you can count on me too, right? For anything” he said and you chuckled softly “I know, you’re my favourite avenger”
He nodded brushing his crisp beard against your cheek and after few minutes stuck in that hug he dropped a kiss on your neck "love you”
He pulled back giving you a smile as he picked the shower gel you left on the counter bringing it with himself to the bathroom with a soft hum.
You smiled a bit bitterly to yourself as you guessed it was meant in a friendly way, but today it was alright. You could endure it. Also that kiss, he always did it when he was drunk, at parties or in the taxi back home after a viewing. It was his cuddly way to say things without saying them, without rambling, and you appreciated that silent language.
Maybe now he was drunk over his own feelings.
Just like you.
Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief @thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved @fictionlandslanddreams @charistory @greeneyedblondie44 @apparrio @hb8301 @whatawildone @rhymerhymerhyme @thehuiabird @lilith-blackrose @unbeatablecurlgirl @obsidianlaszlo @alindeluce @zemosimp05 @baronesszemo-blackwood @nocapesdahling @everythingbeginsineternity-blog @archangelproperty
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Star Trek, Stargate, and the Colors of Fandom
Like so many TNG fans the world over, the cast announcement for season 3 of Star Trek: Picard had me stunned, amazed, and then insanely over-the-top excited.
The entire TNG crew back together?!
It's the stuff of us fans' dreams.
When I need a serotonin boost, you bet I'll be playing that little preview video on repeat. (And reading co-showrunner Terry Matalas' tweets, which have been hilarious, if you haven't seen them.)
But my brain is still...my brain, and so of course it decided to insert its depressed, anxious thoughts into what should, by any measure, be 1 minute and 23 seconds of happiness.
If you're so excited about this, my depressed brain asked, why are you not at all excited about a new Stargate show?
Why are you so excited? my anxious brain asked. Aren't you worried they'll ruin everything you loved about TNG? You didn't like season 1 of Picard--remember?
My brain is depressed. And anxious. But it asks hard questions.
Really, I probably should have just ignored those questions. But it's my brain, and I can't really ignore them, so I started thinking. And this is what I came up with.
There are different colors of fandom.
Stargate is burnt orange. It's a blaze, burning, steady but true.
It's love and creation.
It's betrayal.
It grew from canon, yes, but really, my love for Stargate is its own thing now. I've fleshed out "my" versions of Jack and Teal'c and Sam and Daniel more fully than anyone could, in eight-ish seasons of TV. I write about them, I dream about them. I'm active in the fandom, and the community is better than the show. It's gotten me through a pandemic and given me friends and a writing hobby and a hundred photos of Richard Dean Anderson saved in my phone, and really, I'm grateful.
The betrayal I feel whenever I try to watch Avalon and see Cameron Mitchell, over and over, is both a blessing and a curse.
It's a curse because there's canon I cannot in good conscience like. At all. (I know many do enjoy it, and that's fine.) I waffle between disliking it and hating it and feeling like I'm an outsider among people who will just take canon as gospel, whether they like it or dislike it or just think it's meh. (There's a whole rant somewhere in there about how stupidly uncreative people are, trained to just follow the pack and too idiotic to do anything else. Not all of them, but some of them. But that's a post for another day.)
That betrayal is a blessing, too. That's what I realized when I sat down and tried to really think about the questions I was asking myself. The betrayal of canon is a blessing because it's the spark that causes me to write all the canon-divergent fluff deep in my heart. Canon-divergent angst, too, though that's much more difficult for me. It's a blessing that I should really be thankful for, because it forced me to create those versions of characters of which I am so proud. It forced me to write about them.
(I write about them far less than I'd like. But I do write about them.)
So I'm wary of a new show. The reasons I'm wary deserve their own post (there's one that's been sitting in my drafts for awhile--maybe it's time to release it into the world?) but really, I just need to let go of my wariness and embrace what Stargate has become to me. More than a fandom. Less than a complete show.
Anyway, Stargate is burnt orange. A blessing, a curse. Humor and loyalty and the campfire reflecting off four best friends who are closer than family. The color of the trees lining Jack's lake in the fall. The color of the sunrise Jack sees in Sam's smile.
TNG, though--TNG is indigo.
Calming. Serene. The color of royalty. Loyalty, too. (heh, a rhyme!)
TNG is royal. Untouchable, because somehow, despite the 80s spandex and the weird season 6-7 plots and the slightly problematic tone of some season 1-2 episodes, it is perfectly...complete.
I love every second of it.
Maybe it's nostalgia. (I spent so much of my childhood on the TNG DVD set.) Maybe I'm more willing to overlook the episodes I don't like. Maybe I--and I'm cringing as I type this--care about it less?
Yeah, that last one isn't true. What is true is that I really do love every second: the cringey seconds for being the cringe that washes away the seriousness, and the serious seconds for being some of the best sci-fi--scratch that, some of the best TV--that have ever been made.
Anyway, somehow I'm not too worried about TPTB ruining TNG. I've already made my peace with the fact that I'm always going to be on a different axis than most of the (active) Star Trek fandom. And, like I said, TNG is royal. It will stand like a statue, impervious to whatever we try to throw on top of it. It will stand there, and judge us, and that will be that.
Don't get me wrong, I'll definitely be disappointed if this reunion doesn't go the way I want it to. Somehow, though, I'm not so very bothered by that idea.
If I don't like it, I'll go back and watch All Good Things and imagine my own future for the best starship crew ever to grace a screen.
I hope I love it. But--sorry for being repetitive--TNG is indigo. The prospect of being fed a story I don't like doesn't burn the way burnt-orange SG1 does.
TNG is indigo like the depths of the ocean. The recesses of the night sky. Indigo like the surety of Picard's orders, the loyalty in Riker's grip on the observation room chair, the tilt of Guinan's hat and the steadiness of Crusher's hands. TNG is the color of Geordi's beloved warp core, glowing against the shiny 80s paneling of Engineering.
Maybe this reverses. Maybe I hate season 3 of Picard, and my indignation blazes up into red-hot fandom-ing. Maybe SG1 cools into cool seafoam green and there aren't any stories left in me. It's happened before, for other fandoms. It's the cycle of fandom life.
I don't know the future, but I'm going forward with a little more clarity on how I see my fandoms, and a little more color in my day. <3
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𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝
MASTERLIST☁️
Summary: When Draco has completely pushed himself away from you, things take a dark turn especially when your best friend, Harry Potter casts a sectumsempra spell on him.
Warning: angst and fluff☁️
Timeline: set during the half blood prince
I sat in my bed reading my favourite book while the moon shone brightly and rain poured down heavily. It had been raining all day however i didn’t mind. I loved everything about the rain and considered it as relaxing while I would open up a book and get lost into my own imagination.
It was 10.30pm, when I had read nearly half of the book that was in my hands but I couldn’t seem to finish it. My mind was pondering somewhere else, preventing me from completely finishing the book. What seemed to bother me was Draco.
He had promised that he would write to me during the summer break whenever he could but he never wrote to me once. I sent him a few letters then and there but I still didn’t earn a reply back. I was mainly worried about him. I wouldn’t stop sending him letters until I made sure he was completely fine but then I thought to myself, ‘what if he doesn’t want to write to me? What if he thinks I’m being clingy?’ So I eventually stopped from doing so.
There wasn’t much time left anyways. One more week and we would be going back to Hogwarts for our 6th year and how I yearned to see Draco badly than ever.
—
One week had gone by and there I was making my way to platform 9 and 3/4. A bunch of 1st years were bidding their goodbyes to their parents while the others boarded the train.
When I got inside my compartment, i was greeted by the golden trio. “Oh Merlin y/n, you haven’t been writing to us all winter,” groaned Hermione while she gave me a warm hug while Ron popped my suitcase onto the upper tier. I turned to face Harry, embracing him while he cradled me ever so slightly.
“You said you would write to all of us, what happened to that,” questioned Ron making his way towards me for a warm, welcoming hug. I lowered my gaze in disappointment and shame, looking at the floor.
“It’s Malfoy isn’t it?” Spat Harry furiously while he clenched his fists tight. My hand travelled to his bicep lightly gripping on it.
“Yes..but no,” I sighed, deeply exhaling while both Hermione and Ron cocked their heads in confusion.”He hasn’t been writing to me all summer...and I’m afraid that something’s wrong with him,” I blurted out quickly while I tried to not meet Harry’s gaze as my eyes filled with tears blurring my vision.
“I just knew he would do something like that, I warned you-,” Harry started venting before I cut him off.
“Harry please.. that’s not important right now. What’s important is Draco,” I muttered in defense of my boyfriend.
—
The whole train ride was awkward and the tension could have most definitely been cut with a knife. No one dared to say a word until we reached Hogwarts. Harry had glanced at me a couple of times and somewhere deep down I knew he only wanted what was best for me, and I couldn’t have appreciated it anymore but anyone who would say a word against Draco would have to fight me first.
—
In honour of all the students, a feast was held in the great hall. We all took our positions as we sat huddled together with our other fellow house members. I sat besides Harry while Ron and Hermione took their places opposite us. Purposely, I took my seat where I sat just so I could get to see Draco Malfoy.
While Dumbledore started his welcome back speech, I glanced at the platinum haired boy from across the hall as a look of depression smeared across his face. He looked different. His skin had turned paler than it already was and the spark that was usually in his eyes had faded away. I was becoming really concerned about Draco and seeing him look so devastated made my heart shatter into millions of tiny pieces.
When the feast had started, I had completely lost my appetite. Seeing my boyfriend look absolutely weak and mundane made me non- famished. My heart ached for him. I just wanted to be there for him assuring him that whatever he was going through I would be there for him no matter what. But what if I wasn’t? What if whatever that was causing his depression made me want to stay away from him? But I wouldn’t let that happen. No matter what.
—
A week had already flew by in a instant blur. I tried everything I could to get Draco to start opening up to me but nothing worked. He was constantly ignoring me as if I didn’t exist and as the days went by his depression seemed to get worser and since he kept neglecting me I started to feel heavily inferior.
—
It was way past curfew when I sat near my desk writing a letter addressed to Draco. My hands started trembling as I used my quill to write. Tears were spilling down my cheeks onto the piece of paper, staining it and causing the splodges of tears to become soggy and transparent.
To my beloved Draco,
I know that you don’t want anything to do with me right now but I just need you to know that I love and care about you and will continue to do so until the day I die. Whatever it is your going through I’ll always be with you no matter the circumstances but please don’t distance yourself away from me like this.
Yours, y/l/n
Sealing the envelope, I handed my ptilopsis owl, named Elvis, the letter that was in my hands a second ago. He took the object between its beak and flew out of the open glass stained windows, soaring high into the blanket of darkness, on its way to deliver the message to Malfoy.
—
The next day, I hoped that I had gotten a response from Draco however I was wrong. I never got a reply back. I wanted to help him overcome whatever it was but if he wasn’t going to cooperate with me then I couldn’t do anything to comfort him during this dark time.
—
Weeks started to pass by and I was becoming closer to Harry. It was no secret that me and Draco weren’t together. Or that’s what others thought as they never saw the two of us together again. And let’s say that’s what I also thought.
Harry and me became more than best friends. It was more like a situationship since we weren’t dating but we were closer than ever. It wasn’t until one evening Hermione word-vomited Harry’s secret to me.
—
“If only you knew about Harry,” she mumbled under her breathe when I started teasing her about Ronald.
“What did you say?” I questioned curiously while I pushed my silky hair behind me.
“It’s nothing, besides we should get going,” she replied defensively as she played with the hem of robe.
“No... what did you say about Harry? “ I asked eagerly while I stopped walking, completely facing the brunette girl in front of me. She awkwardly shifted her feet while she smoothed the fabric of her robe trying to avoid any eye contact. I gave her a slight nudge so she could snap out of it.
“He’s in love with you,”. That was it. Those were her words.
The phrase that came out of her mouth made me shudder. He couldn’t love me because I didn’t want him too.
Typically, many Gryffindors thought that I was simply using Harry, trying to make up for the loss of no longer being with Draco but that wasn’t the case. Harry was always there for me, a shoulder to cry on, someone to make me laugh when I was feeling down as ever but he could never replace Draco. No matter how hard I tried to move on from my former lover, nothing seemed to work. Thinking to myself that maybe Harry could fill in the missing gaps, the extra pieces to a lost puzzle, a way for me to escape my completely distorted imagination but I was wrong. No matter how much Harry loved me I assured myself that he would soon get over it, because he needed to. He had to.
—
Sitting in the great hall, I tried to sit as far as I could from Harry but he would scoot up closer towards me. Frequently asking me if I was okay or if I needed anything making sure I was completely fine, but how could I be ‘okay’ if I was stuck between my true love and someone I considered as my best friend. No no, I wasn’t stuck. I was certain about what I wanted. I wanted Draco. But things between the two of us came crumbling down.
Then there was Potter, someone who stuck by me when Draco made me feel inferior but how selfish was it of me too view everything from my perspective. Had I once put myself into Malfoy’s shoes and tried figuring out what demons he was battling with, that had caused him to be in such a state. But the issue was that I did. I did try my hardest to find out what was happening with him. What was going on inside his brain.But nothing helped.
I got up from my seat as the tension between me and Harry rised. I needed to honestly give myself a break from whatever was happening. Before I could leave, someone gripped my wrist gently. Turning myself around, I noticed Harry’s fingers wrapped around my wrist holding me back from leaving. It wasn’t until I noticed my eyes were beginning to tear up. I couldn’t face him. I couldn’t look him in the eye and disappoint him when he immensely cared for me. I wanted to give him the same passion back but my heart belonged to Draco and only him.
Suddenly, he hastily removed his hand from my wrist causing me to turn around, my back now facing him. There stood Draco. He shifted on his feet before he went striding out of the hall.
Harry started chasing after him and I intended to do so until Hermione pulled me back down onto the seat next to her.
“Y/n-“ was all she murmured before I wriggled out of her grasp running as quick as I could, heading out of the massive, substantial doors.
Luckily, I managed to hear the echoes of someone running down the hall way into the boys bathroom. The more swiftly I ran, the louder the clattering of the footsteps became audible.
I barged into the bathroom while I let out a blood curdling scream. Running to Draco who laid lifelessly groaning in pain in a puddle of murky blood infused water, i kneeled beside him resting his head onto my lap as I moved his platinum blonde hair out of his gashed face.
He was heavily injured as he had deep cuts carved all over his body. He whimpered in pain, while tears spilled out from the corner of his half shut eyes.
A piercing sensation depleted through my body, while my tears came streaming down my face, tasting the saltiness of my tear drops that lingered onto my quivering lips.
“Draco-“ I whispered while I swallowed the thick lump at the back of my throat while my face scrunched up in sorrow.
Standing from across the bathroom was Harry. His wand gripped tightly in his hand as I looked over my shoulder not fully turning. From the corner of my eye, I could still see the expression of guilt smeared across his face before he left in silence.
“SOMEBODY HELP!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, my shrieking voice echoing. My trembling fingers slowly glided across Draco’s cheek, wiping all of his tears away as he tried his best to stay awake, fluttering his wet eyelashes every now and then. My face hovered over his as he stared at me through his blurry vision trying to fight back his tears.
“Go get ... snape,” he said trying to muster all the courage he could to try and get up.“I can’t leave you here like that!” I sobbed through gritted teeth while my face flustered from all the heat. “Y/n... I’m sorry- I really am,” he apologised while the end of his lips curved into a frown and he desperately tried to hold back his tears.
Feeling a pang of pain in my chest from the sincerity of his words, I started sulking harder than before while he bought his hand up to my face wiping my tears. “Please don’t cry,” he mumbled while he caught his bottom lip between his teeth. Seeing the pain that he was going through, i wiped my face with the sleeves of my robe, smudging my mascara even more. I was a complete train wreck at this point as I squeezed his hand.
“Y/n... do you know- how much I love you?” The end of his sentence finishing of like a diminuendo. I cradled him slightly, letting out a small giggle while I plastered a small smile across my face.
It was the first time Draco had ever confessed his love for me and I couldn’t have been more elated. My smile then turned into a fine line as I pursed my lips and knitted my brows. “You don’t have to say... it back,” he murmured as his dark blue eyes softened.
“I love you too... and I really mean it. Draco your my everything,” I said confidently, exhaling deeply as I got those three words of my chest. Our eyes met and I found myself dipping low as my lips met his. I kissed him passionately as if it was the last time I’d ever kiss him again. I kissed him like there was no tomorrow.It felt like a whole moment of bliss until he started whincing in pain. I pulled back as I noticed his hands holding onto his side. Removing his head from my lap I scrambled to my feet heading for the door. “I’ll be back...just stay put!” I yelled back to him as I went to go and find Snape.
—
“Someone casted a sectumsempra spell on Mr. Malfoy, Miss . Y/l/n do you know who has done this to him?” He asked in his lifeless tone but more furious than ever.“It was Potter... he chased me here and casted the spell on me. He’s trying to kill me!,” interrupted Draco once Severus had healed him completely. “I’ll be dealing with him,” bellowed Snape as he stormed out of the bathroom, the back of his robe flaring.
“Are you okay Draco?” I questioned as I looked up to him. “Better than before,” he responded before taking his hand into mine.“Draco we need to talk,” the tone of my voice more mature than ever. He simply nodded while we walked to the slytherin common room.
Since no one was there, we sat in front of the warm, blazing fire holding one another as a blanket draped the two of us. One of his hands made its way into my hair, gently stroking it as my head leaned against his chest. “Why were you ignoring me all this time?” I interrogated as I pulled away from him tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
The same depressing look painted across his face. His eyes had turned a dark grey as he glanced at me before he started playing with the silver ring that was on his finger. I placed my hand on his arm giving him a reassuring look.
He started to roll up one of his sleeves as if something was plastered across the surface of his skin.
His wrist was branded with the signature dark mark and a tear drop glided down his pale face. My hand covered my mouth as I examined the familiar piece of dark art that was embedded into his arm.
“Your- your a death eater,” I gasped gently. He avoided meeting my gaze as I gawped in awe. “This ... this was the reason why I kept neglecting you. I didn’t want to drag you into any of this mess .. I-,” cutting him off I lifted his chin glaring into his emotion filled eyes. “Draco.. you know that I’ll always be there for you no matter what right?” I questioned as my thumb drew tiny circles on his cheek.
He hummed before I pulled him in for a kiss wrapping my arms around his neck. His lips were slightly chapped but I didn’t mind. A feeling of euphoria ran through my body like adrenaline while his breathing became more frantic and fast.
Pulling away panting, I locked his hand into mine as I sat in front of him. “I’ll always be here for you no matter what,” I panted while staring into his cold eyes as he slowly nodded.
A teardrop slipped down his cheek as I brushed it with my finger
“We can figure this out,” I reassured him.
“A mark doesn’t define who you are,”
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Small Things
Fandom: Thunderbirds
Rating: Teen
Genre: Family/Hurt/Comfort
Characters: Scott, Gordon, Virgil
More self indulgent Scott&Gordon fluff because I can and because this scene’s been living in my head rent-free for the past week or so. Might be the last thing I write for a while, because uni’s just decided to let me know I need to do 390 hours of independent study for a single module with the deadline in eight weeks, and if you’re any good at maths you’ll realise there’s a problem there (alternatively, stress might drive me to writing loads like January; we’ll see). There are implications of some level of depression in here, so watch out for that.
When an injury leaves Scott unable to do even the most simple things for himself and accordingly frustrated, it takes a brother who understands what it’s like to halt the slippery slope.
Scott was no stranger to injuries, or the frustration of the recovery period. He’d broken bones, torn open skin, and endured worse still, but that never made it easier – and definitely not this time. This time, he was arguably mostly intact, and yet found himself helpless nonetheless.
Burnt palms – both of them, and fingers to boot – meant he couldn’t do even the simplest of tasks by himself. Couldn’t dress himself, couldn’t eat, couldn’t do anything except wait for them to heal as he watched his brothers keep going out on rescues without him.
His family did what they could, Virgil in particular weathering the storm of his frustrations when they spilled over, but no matter how many little gadgets Brains designed to try and give him at least some independence, the fact still remained that he was useless and helpless.
Virgil was conked out on the couch, dead to the world despite his attempts to stave off exhaustion with caffeine in order to keep Scott company as he watched yet another movie – the only activity he seemed to be able to do without help. He’d wake up later, apologetic for passing out as though he hadn’t been on back-to-back rescues with any downtime swallowed up by fussing over his currently-helpless big brother, but for the moment, Scott was more than happy to let him sleep.
Not only did he need it, but the constant smothering was wearing thin. Scott was active, self-reliant and tireless. Even the most well-meaning assistance from Virgil – the one that helped him dress, cut his food, and all the other mundane tasks suddenly beyond his capabilities – was grating. He’d already snapped at him a few times, the most recent of which had been in response to a suggestion he did his hair, moments before John had called in another rescue and Virgil had had to leave before Scott could swallow down the ire, leaving him wallowing in guilt for several hours until he’d returned, dirty and exhausted but still patiently trying to help.
It was an honest relief to see his brother sleeping, even if it left Scott balled up on his own couch, trying to ignore the bandages wrapped around his hands and focus on the movie. He was failing miserably, all too aware that the healing process was still in the early stages and that it would be several more days before he could even think of using his hands. Even with the regularly-applied gel, they still hurt.
The movie was, in theory, one of his favourites. Virgil’s choice, after he’d huffed when asked if he wanted to choose. Right then, he just wanted to turn it off and-
The holoprojection paused, right in the middle of one of his normally-favourite scenes, and he blinked. That hadn’t been his doing. Despite Brains’ best efforts, telekinesis was still eluding him.
“Hey, Scott.” He turned his head to see Gordon jump down into the den. “Reckon you can do something for me?”
Scott held up his hands, in case Gordon had somehow forgotten. “No. Get Alan to help you with whatever it is.”
“Gotta be you, bro,” Gordon insisted, catching his wrists and tugging insistently. “You don’t need your hands for this.”
Despite himself, Scott found that he was intrigued. The promise of being able to do something was a powerful allure. “What is it?”
“C’mon,” Gordon insisted in leu of answering, and warning bells rang even as his younger brother successfully pulled him to his feet. Agreeing to help before hearing the details was always a no with this particular brother. His appetite for pranks was insatiable, and sometimes his timing left something to be desired. Scott couldn’t handle a prank. Not right now.
“Gordon, what are you doing?”
“Trust me,” his brother replied. Two words that often came with warning bells. Scott knew Gordon, though. Knew when trust me meant imminent pranking and warned that he should be running, and when he could genuinely trust whatever plan his brother had concocted. This was the latter, full sincerity with a hint of a plea behind it.
Trust was important in their family. It had to be, for International Rescue to work. Gordon knew that as well as any of them, and when he used that voice, it was always true. Whatever he had planned, he believed it wouldn’t negatively impact Scott.
He sighed, and let his shoulders sag, feeling the tension start to seep away. “Where are we going?”
Gordon’s hand was steady at the small of his back, guiding him gently through the house. Towards the bedrooms, and Scott stumbled to a halt when Gordon stopped outside his room. Of all the places he expected, his own bedroom was near the bottom of the list. “Gordon?”
“Come on, bro,” Gordon coaxed, opening the door and nudging him through it. Scott let him, still confused, and found himself guided to his bed. “Sit.”
Eyeing his brother, and still completely lost as to what he was planning, Scott obeyed. His bandaged, useless, hands rested in his lap, and he glared down at them before glancing back up to see that Gordon had left his side and was rummaging around in his bathroom.
“Hey!” What was he doing?
“Easy, Scott,” Gordon called back, turning around and returning. In his hands were Scott’s comb and hair gel, two items that hadn’t seen the light of day since his hands got burnt so badly they couldn’t hold either.
Scott didn’t appreciate the reminder that, despite Virgil’s pleading, his hair was a sorry mess.
“What are you doing with those?” he demanded, starting to stand. A hand on his shoulder stopped him, and he found himself looking up into compassionate amber eyes. Gordon gave him a small smile, barely a twitch of his lips but in that moment, it hit harder than his usual exaggerated expressions.
“Relax,” he said, clambering onto the bed and settling somewhere behind Scott. Attempts to turn his head were prevented by gentle hands, keeping him facing forwards. “I’ve got you.”
Scott’s mind was scrambling to work out what his brother had planned, and how this came into him doing anything for Gordon, but before he could finish putting the facts together there were gentle fingers in his hair, carding through softly and pulling wayward strands back from his face.
His immediate instinct was to pull away – he let his brothers do a lot, but his hair had always been off-limits, in no small part because it was an obvious target for Gordon and dye, but also just because it was. Even now, he’d refused to let Virgil touch it.
“Gordon-” he started, and the fingers retreated, only for arms to wrap around his shoulders from behind. Soft, comforting, and a far cry from the crushing squid hugs his water-loving brother loved to dish out. A weight against his back, and then a cheek pressed against his. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw strawberry blond hair, and amber eyes looking at him.
“Let me do this?” his brother asked, in that exact same tone he’d used earlier for trust me. Sincere, but a little pleading.
“Why?” His voice cracked, an unexpected show of weakness, and he flinched. Gordon didn’t acknowledge it, seemingly content to let him pretend it didn’t happen.
“I think it’ll help,” he murmured instead. “Please?”
Help who?
Scott didn’t see how letting Gordon do his hair would help anyone. It wouldn’t heal the burns any faster, wouldn’t give him back his independence any sooner.
But he’d never been able to say no to a brother when they asked like that, all quiet and sincere.
“Don’t mess it up,” he caved, looking away. He felt Gordon’s smile against his cheek anyway.
“Thanks, Scott.”
The arms retracted slowly, the cheek also leaving his, and he felt the mattress dip as Gordon shuffled back into position behind him.
Then the fingers were back in his hair, teasing out the tangles and knots that had formed with infinite patience and care. The motions were soothing in their repetitiveness, Gordon’s fingers dexterous and nimble as they preened out the worst of the mess, and despite himself Scott felt a little more tension bleed away.
Fingertips found his scalp and dragged across lightly, almost a massage, for a few brief moments, before retreating entirely.
Then it was the teeth of his comb, running through strands slowly but steadily and pausing whenever they nudged a tangle Gordon’s fingers hadn’t completely erased. Those, the comb bit into lightly, coaxing and cajoling the strands and never once tugging at his scalp.
Scott had no idea where Gordon had learnt to be so gentle with hair.
There was no mirror in view from where he was sat, but Scott didn’t need one to feel the weight of his hair slowly shifting, leaving its unkempt and chaotic tragedy and falling into the familiar style he favoured. Without gel, the strands at the front attempted to flop forwards, over his forehead, and he resisted the instinct to swipe them back.
His hands wouldn’t thank him, and the hair would inevitably get tangled in the bandages, but what actually stopped him was the sensation of Gordon interchanging comb with fingers as he continued to smooth the hair back until it fell just right. Gordon had asked to do this, and despite his initial misgivings, Scott found he was enjoying it. No-one had done his hair for him since he was a kid, Mom fussing and asserting her right as his mother to do so. Not like this.
Distracted by sudden memories, he missed the moment the comb left his hair for good, and startled slightly when the cool sensation of gel seeped through his hair. Gordon had returned to using his fingers, smoothing his hair into position with a precision no doubt born of seeing it so many times, and Scott closed his eyes.
The touches steadily grew lighter, lingering for longer and ghosting over what were presumably stray strands that needed a little more gel to keep in place, until they left all together.
He opened his eyes as the mattress shifted, turning his head to see Gordon slipping off the bed, rubbing his hands with a towel to get the gel off his fingers. Amber eyes surveyed his hair sharply, before Gordon gave another small, tender smile.
“Come on, bro.” Hands cradled his wrists, carefully away from the bandages, and drew him to his feet. “Now you get to judge my work.”
Scott let Gordon lead him to his bathroom, where the mirror hung above the sink. It was something he’d avoided looking at for the past few days, aware of his deteriorating hair yet unable to fix it and unwilling to let anyone else until Gordon wormed his way in with softly pleading sincerity, but a light nudge over the threshold had him reluctantly facing his reflection.
He looked like himself.
There were still bags under his eyes from the sleepless nights, and his skin was still pale and a little haunted, but his hair was gelled back just the way he liked it – the way he laboured over it every day even when he forwent other aspects of self-care because he didn’t have time – and while it was only one thing, it was enough to banish the unkempt shadow he’d become and replace it with something blessedly familiar. Blessedly normal.
Unconsciously, his back straightened, leaving him standing tall once again.
Gordon’s reflection joined his, standing alongside him as a hand rested on his shoulder.
“Any better?” his brother asked, worry in his eyes. Scott tore himself away from his reflection to look down at the flesh-and-blood young man next to him.
“Yeah,” he admitted. “Gords- what-?”
“When everything goes to hell, it’s the small things that make the difference,” Gordon said. The reminder was bittersweet – Gordon, too, had once been unable to do even the most basic of tasks unaided. “It helped me. I thought it was worth a try for you.”
A sense of normality amongst an ocean of uncertainty. Something to hold onto when he had nothing else.
Scott raised his arm, resting it lightly around Gordon’s shoulders.
“Thank you,” he murmured, looking back at the mirror where the man that looked much more like himself stood, arm around his little brother. In hindsight, it was obvious; a lack of self-care was a slippery slope – one he’d seen Gordon fight before.
“I know you’d rather do it yourself,” Gordon continued. “But remember, we’re here to help you.” The hand on his shoulder squeezed for a brief moment. “You just have to let us.”
Gordon looked relieved, Scott realised. He hadn’t noticed how worried his younger brother had been until it was gone, but the story was there, behind smiling eyes and a steadily growing grin on his face.
“Thanks,” he said again. There was nothing else he could say. Nothing that properly appreciated what his brother had done for him. Was offering to keep doing, if Scott was reading him right.
He was usually pretty accurate when it came to reading his brothers.
“Could-” he started, mouth ahead of his brain. “Could you-” He couldn’t quite get the words out, instincts still rebelling against asking for help – asking for this – despite it being freely offered.
“Keep doing it for you until you can do it yourself again?” Luckily – in this particular instance – Gordon could read him, too. Scott nodded jerkily. “Of course.”
The hand on his shoulder moved, arm reaching around him until Gordon had him in a half-embrace.
“Welcome back, big bro.”
If Virgil had any thoughts about Scott letting Gordon help when he’d been refused at every offer, he kept them firmly to himself when he was woken by the pair of them returning to finish the movie. Scott did, however, find himself subject to a bear hug, and relieved brown eyes looking him over.
In hindsight, it was obvious Virgil had seen what was happening all along, and Scott regretted getting snappy with him about it. Virgil waved off his apologies, but did consent to go and get some proper sleep in his bed as long as Gordon promised not to leave him alone while he did.
The insinuation that he needed a minder should have grated. Would have grated, half an hour before, when he was still a miserable mess curled up in the corner of a couch. But as Gordon promised, solemn sincerity that Virgil could trust, and settled more comfortably on the couch with his arm around his shoulders, Scott just found himself thankful for how much his brothers cared.
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What is Lost is Once Found Again (Lin Beifong x fem! reader)
A/N: this is the angst fic and i have finished editing it. been feeling down lately because of some things so whens a better time to write something angsty? also reader is a firebender bc i feel like firebenders do not get enough love. enjoy yall.
warnings: angst, emotional/physical abuse, one homophobic slur.
You saw how happy they were. They couldn’t keep their hands off of each other. The bouquet of flowers fell from your hands. Its petals falling like the pieces of your heart that shattered. Though, this was your fault wasn’t it? You had introduced them after all and they hit it off. The rest was history. She laughed; Tenzin had made her laugh. Your vision became blurry from the tears in your eyes. You wanted to scream. You had been too late. Lin looked over and waved at you. There was a grin on her face, something you never really saw from her. You swallowed the cry that threatened to claw its way out. The urge to vomit was strong. You waved back weakly. Their attention turned from you and back to them. The fresh wild flowers you had picked for her were now damaged. It didn’t matter anymore. She looked so happy standing next to him. Lin’s green eyes looked a bit soft as she noticed the bouquet. It was a rare sight to see her so happy. Her voice sounded blurry and muddled. It felt like you were watching a movie play out on the big screen of a theatre. Tenzin looked concerned at your state of being. Here you were standing in front of them but you seemed gone. Lin’s voice snapped you out of your daze.
Her strong features pulled in concern as she called your name softly. “Are you alright?” No, you weren’t. You couldn’t tell Lin how much it hurt to see how happy she was with Tenzin. You couldn’t confess your feelings that you’ve been harboring for a while. Tenzin was your best friend and you didn’t want to ruin how joyful he was. If he knew he’d step aside and let you have her. He’d swallow it all down just for you. Blinking, your lips quivered. “I-I was just going to visit my father’s grave,” you lied. Their faces dropped; they knew how important your father had been to you. “Is that what you were going to give him,” Tenzin asked gently, head motioning to the now ruined flowers on the gravel. At that moment you hated Tenzin. He was so soft and kind that you felt guilty about falling in love with his girlfriend. You nodded, “Doesn’t matter anyways. I-I gotta go...see you later.” They tried to stop you; they called after you but you ignored them. She was gone now. You were too late. They were so enamored with each other now it didn’t matter anymore. The ache in your heart was deep. You felt anchored in the cold icy waters of the ocean but you couldn’t reach out. Cement blocks held your feet every time as you dragged through the sand. The ache in your bones became numb with the cold and every time you screamed you’d choke on the water. He makes her happy, you told yourself. I was too late.
Neither of them really talked to you anymore. It was expected, though. They were a new couple in the honeymoon phase. That’s how your mother put it, the alcohol in her system making her words slur and her movements clumsy. Your father’s anniversary of his death had passed a couple days ago and your mom became even more depressed. You fought the urge to scorch the walls that night when she spat her venomous words towards you. They were a sharp blade but you didn’t care. It would sink its blades into your skin and blood would rise. Eventually, it all became numb. Her sharp hilt of words became numb once more. “It’s your fault he’s dead. It’s your fault he’s gone.” The words stung but she was right. Your father’s death was your fault. “You know,” Tenzin started, his legs swinging off the steps of your porch. “My family will always welcome you.” It was cold that night. The freezing air bit your fingers and the wind whipped your clothes around. Tenzin had come to check up on you. He always did every anniversary. “I know,” you said softly. “I know.”
“No wonder she doesn’t talk to you anymore. A handsome and kind man sweeps Lin off of her feet. I’d do the same.” Your mother was sober this morning. She was back to her usual jabs but the eggs in front of you helped drown her out. You clenched your fork tightly, your knuckles turned white. “Too bad you couldn’t get him first.” You slammed your fist down on the counter. Flames flickered in your hands. Its tongues threatened to burn the counter you sat at. Your mother whipped around, eyes growing wide at your burning hands. You could feel how scared she was. She didn’t bother you anymore that day.
Dammit Tenzin! Lin’s room was warm compared to your frozen house. You always envied her for it but not tonight. You held her tight as she vented about her boyfriend. Well, now ex boyfriend. The thought made you scoff. Pema was a sweet girl but she was selfish. Incredibly selfish. “Am I just unloveable?” You snapped out of your thoughts. Lin didn’t shed any tears but her voice sounded so broken. “No Lin no,” you said softly, rubbing her shoulder supportively. “Tenzin’s just a dumbass. Pema is selfish and wanted to break two people’s happiness. Tenzin was stupid to got for it. You are loveable Lin.” I love you. Lin swallowed thickly; you could see her fighting the tears. “It’s stupid to cry over.” “No,” you exclaimed, pulling her into your chest. “It’s something perfectly justified to cry over! If you wanna cry you should, it’s good to cry.” “Heh. Thanks.”
You smiled softly. The moon shone on her pale features beautifully through her bedroom window. You had snuck out that night but your mom had drunk herself to sleep. You couldn’t help but think how selfish Pema was to break two people apart. While you had kept your mouth shut and swallowed the hurt, she paraded around with Tenzin. Lin’s bedroom window was open after she helped you in. You felt guilty about throwing a small rock near her window. But, when you heard Tenzin had broken up with her from some gossip in town, you made haste to Lin. The box of fudge from the bakery you had bought for her was almost empty from eating both of your feelings. “Please don’t hurt him,” Lin said softly in your arms. Her eyes were heavy and her breathing was more shallow. “I’ll try not to,” you joked. She laughed. For the first time that night she laughed and your heart swelled at the thought. “Night Lin,” you whispered, setting her gently onto the bed. She snored softly, causing your heart to swell. You kissed her head and ventured home.
You swung your feet from Lin’s bathroom counter. Tenzin and Lin hadn’t talked in a little over a year. Being your best friend the two of you talked and you gave clipped answers when he’d ask about her. Anytime you saw Pema you felt the rage and felt flames in your palms threatening to burst. You had yelled at him for an hour about how stupid and selfish he was. Aang had to come outside and see what all the ruckus was about. “Fuck,” you said tightly. You came back to the present from the stinging pain of the rubbing alcohol. “Sorry,” Lin muttered. For being such a hardass she was gentle when she needed to be. The cotton ball was soft on your temple, giving you some relief. At least the nosebleed stopped, but your eye was beginning to swell. “She can’t be doing this to you anymore,” she said softly, her brows worrying. For being nineteen, Lin looked pretty mature. Though, she had always been more stern and responsible even as a kid.
“It’s fine,” you muttered, brushing it off. You winced at the alcohol again. “No it’s not,” she replied sternly. You could see her green eyes flare up but there was concern and worry underneath it. “If you need somewhere to stay you can stay with me. I don’t want you to have to go through this anymore.” You didn’t interrupt her rant. Interrupting Lin is the equivalent to poking a grumpy old bear/ “What happened this time?” You sighed. You really didn’t want to have this conversation. Lin was open minded about certain things but you weren’t sure about being attracted to the same gender. It was still something you yourself were coming to terms with. Your mother had found out and the glass bottle shattered on the wall. It was meant for your head. “Just her being her usual self. Getting mad at something,” you clipped. Lin could tell you weren’t telling the whole story but she let it drop, thankfully. “All done,” she said. “Thanks.” She nodded in reply. “Do you need to stay here tonight?” “I don’t wanna intrude. I can stay at Kiki’s.” Kiki’s was the bakery you had bought the box of fudge for Lin when Tenzin broke up with her. The owner was always kind to you and knew about your struggles. He was warm hearted and offered you a place to crash from time to time. He reminded you of your father. Lin shook her head. “You’re staying here tonight. Besides, I just got this place and I want to spend time with you.” Your heart warmed at her words. An unrequited crush, two years strong. How sad. Your mother’s words rang in your ears. “How could she ever love a fag like you?”
It was raining that morning. Kiki’s had hired you as a baker and offered you the room upstairs. Even though firebenders were known to be ambitious, passionate, and more aggressive than others, you had no drive or ambition. You didn’t know what you wanted in life but baking was something you were passionate about. “I’m gonna be out,” you shouted over your shoulder. “Alright be safe,” Maro, the store owner, called out from the back. Swinging your satchel over your shoulder you grabbed the box of leftover donuts for Lin. You balanced the two coffee cups on the box and swiftly left the place. Your bright blue bicycle rested on the side of the bakery. As you mounted your bike you smiled, excited to see Lin today. The two coffee cups sat in the cup holders on the sides of the basket while the donuts sat safely in the basket.The wind whipped through your hair and the rain drizzled lightly. The rain was light but you peddled quickly so the food wouldn’t be ruined. Lin’s wasn’t too far Kiki’s either. It felt freeing to be peddling down the hills; your worries flew away with the sweeping wind. Her apartment came into view. The thought of seeing her made you peddle faster. You placed your bike on the side of the building and pounded up the stairs. You held the box of donuts tightly in your hands, shielding it from the now pouring rain. Your heart quickened as you reached her front door. You had left Kiki’s at eight so she had to be up by now. You knocked on her door. Faintly, you could hear her footsteps. Lin greeted you with a blanket on her shoulders and a white tank top under it. Black sweats hugged her body nicely. The dark circles under her eyes were prominent in the bright gray morning. “What a surprise,” she said, the corners over her lips tugging upwards. You chuckled, “Had some leftovers and decided to visit. It’s been a while.” Her eyes lightened up at the sight of coffee and the delicious pastries. Lin held the door for you as you balanced the goodies and stepped into her apartment.
“Talked to Tenzin finally.” You almost choked on the sprinkled donut you were eating. Lin held her coffee cup in her hands as she glanced down at her kitchen counter. Her plain glazed donut sat on a napkin untouched. You gulped your food down. “That’s..great. What’d he say?” Lin chuckled at your answer. “He apologized, actually.” She sipped her black coffee. “Oh…” you trailed off. You weren’t sure how to respond. He had broken up with her three years ago and now apologized? “I don’t feel anything about it anymore. I was surprised, honestly.” You hummed, sipping your hot chocolate. “Took him long enough.” Lin snorted, “It did. I just can’t help but wonder...why.” You shot a confused glance her way, digging into the box for another sweet. A chocolate donut, this time. You missed the smile Lin had as she saw your childlike wonder and excitement about something so small as a pastry. “No one seems to have any interest in me anymore. Can’t help but wonder if I’m going to die alone,” she joked, taking another sip of her drink. You could hear a bit of sadness in her voice though. Passion bubbled in your chest and before you could think better you opened your mouth. “You’re not gonna die alone Lin. You’re sweet and kind and compassionate. You care about the people you love and are fiercely loyal. You’re intelligent and observant and also snarky. You’re just so….perfect!” The creeping anxiety surged when the answer you met with was silence. Muffled laughter escaped Lin’s lips as she tried to keep a straight face. It was rare; her body shook and the giggles turned into laughter. It rang in your ears and your heart swelled at the perfect sound. Before you could stop yourself, you kissed her.Her lips tasted like coffee and mint. She smelt like earth, paper, and leather. Her lips were soft and plush. Your eyes widened and immediately you pulled back. “I-I’m so s-sorry I-,” you sputtered, scurrying away from her. Lin just stared. There was no expression on her face as she looked at you. You felt tears run down your cheeks before you had a chance to stop them. A heavy lump sat in your throat and you dashed to get your bag. You left without another word, slamming Lin’s door behind you. She didn’t even try to stop you.
“I’m a fucking idiot,” you sobbed, the rain pouring, soaking you to the bone. You peddled faster, sobs unleashing from your throat. The road was hard to see from the rain and your blurry vision. You didn’t care, if something or someone hit you you would accept your fate. Hell, that would be a good one. Better than losing Lin for good. Once you wheeled your bike to it’s spot you dashed into Kiki’s. Customers sat at tables leaving the workers distracted so you bolted upstairs. You didn’t feel like having Maro interrogate your crying right now. As much as you loved the big jolly man, you couldn’t let him see you like this. You changed out of your wet clothes and threw on something comfortable. For the rest of the day you let your blankets embrace you and cried your heart out. Eventually, you drifted off to sleep.
It was five pm once you woke up again. The memory of kissing Lin and acting so stupid made you curse. Tears threatened to spill again and you trembled. A soft knock snapped you out of your thoughts. “Come in,” you croaked. Maro opened the door poking his head in. “Are you alright?” The dam broke loose. Instantly you were a sobbing mess again. The man who was almost like your father closed the door quickly and held you in his arms. “What happened,” he cooed, rocking you back and forth. You told him everything;about your mother, your father, and Lin. After you were finished he kissed the top of your head. “Give her some time. She’ll come around with an answer for you soon. She’d be lucky to have you.” “Thanks Maro,” you sniffled, wiping your eyes. A few moments of silence stretched. You didn’t believe his words, something told you that you pushed Lin away for good.“I think I’m gonna have to leave.” The giant man beneath you squawked. “I need to learn how to control my firebending still. I’ve shut it away for so long, I think it’s time now.” Maro sighed, “I knew this day would come. You’re sure of it? What if Lin comes for you?” You shook your head. “I don’t think she will Maro.” “Alright. When you come back, you have a home here at Kiki’s. Y’know that right?” “I-I know. Thank you Maro.”
The next morning Maro and his brother waved you off. Maro cried as he gave you one last hug and a box of sweets for the go. You felt tears well up in your eyes as you said goodbye to your only family. “T-thank you Maro for everything. I never deserved your kindness.” “Yes you do, you’re family. You’re my daughter,” Maro blubbered. Even Maro’s brother who was a stone faced man had tears in his eyes You smiled. Your lips quivered and tears streamed down your face. “I love you guys,” you choked out. “I-I’ll be back soon I promise.” With one last goodbye you made your way to Tenzin and his family for a farewell.Tenzin was sad to see you go but he understood. Some journeys were meant to be traveled alone. Aang wished you the best of your travels and sent a wool cloak with you. It was soft and the warmest thing you ever owned. Pema was there, and you were civil with her, but after what she had done to Lin you didn’t see her the same. Tenzin had given you an amulet he was keeping for you and it hung around your neck proudly. You hurried to the docks of Republic City. Missing the boat would certainly add to your already dampened spirits. As you swept through the streets you couldn’t help but think of Lin. The wounds were still fresh but you trudged on. Like a coward, you ran.
Your room was barren and cold. ‘Had it always been this cold,’ Lin thought. The baker, Maro, looked sad today. It was unusual for he was joyful and warm. But today his flame had been blown at, the smoke curling around his heart. Lin was paralyzed when you had kissed her. She couldn’t move until it was too late. A white envelope sat on your desk. Lin. She ran to the desk and ripped it open. As she read it, her eyes widened and her eyes felt watery. Dammit. She was too late. Lin flung the letter on the floor and bolted to the docks. The white parchment paper sifted through the air gracefully until it fell on the ground.
Lin,
I’m sorry. I did what must be done.
Goodbye,
xx
“No!” Lin cried out as the boat sailed away from view. Tears spilled from her cheeks and her teeth clenched. Her fists were balled tightly and her face twisted in anguish. You were gone, forever. She stood on the busy docs;people went around her throwing dirty looks her way. She didn’t care. They went around her mumbling under their breaths. She had been too late. “Line five, ship is boarding, line five, ship is boarding,” the guy called out. Lin perked up. Were you still here? Quickly, she scanned the line. Her heart stopped. She recognized the familiar body and the wool cloak shrouded protectively across their shoulders. Lin bounded over to you. Her hand grabbed your wrist tightly and she pulled you out of the line. “Hey-” your eyes widened as you saw her. “Lin? What are you-” “You’re an idiot you know that?” You gulped. You didn’t think Lin would talk to you anymore but her anger wasn’t unexpected. “I-I’m sorry,” you said softly, averting her intense gaze. “I-I wasn’t thinking clearly and I admit that. But if you’ve come here to ridicule me-” Lin smashed your lips with hers. A muffled squeak in surprise left you but you melted into her touch. Lin’s hands held your face tightly and her chest brushed up against yours. You sighed into the kiss allowing her tongue to enter your mouth and gently sucking on yours. She pulled away;both of you out of breath. Your cheeks heated up at the realization that the love of your life liked you back. “How long have you loved me,” Lin asked softly. Her eyes shone with fondness as she looked at you. “You know when you started dating Tenzin?” She nodded. “I was gonna confess to you then.” Lin’s eyes widened in shock. “Why didn’t you tell me?” You smiled sadly, “You looked so happy. I didn’t want to ruin that.” Lin kissed you again. Her hands held your waist in a tight grip and she bent you lower. You giggled, grabbing her face for support. There were tears in her eyes as she looked at you. You felt your eyes start to water and you laughed softly. “I love you,” Lin whispered, tears threatening to spill. “Don’t you ever leave me again.” You smiled, you were crying again but these were happy tears instead. Gently, she wiped the spilling tears from your cheeks with her thumbs. They felt a bit rough but you couldn’t complain. You nodded, swallowing thickly. “I love you too Lin.”
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prompt: aaron had a slight ED that he developed as a kid and is now being noticeable to the rest of the foxes even andrew and nicky kinda knew he forgot to eat but the stress from school and exy makes it worse....
I could easily expand on this and maybe one day I will. It hits kinda close to home tho so I’m going to err on the side of brevity just for my own mental space. Thank you so much for the ask! I hope this is what you’re looking for ❤️ ❤️ Take care of yourselves!
Warnings for depression, eating disorder.
Edit: this has been expanded and can also be found on my ao3
Part 1 | Part 2 | Ao3
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Wednesday | 6:04am
The alarm was screaming.
Its cries crashed against his senses like sea-storm waves and Aaron was without shelter. The sound had been crowding him for four minutes now, and he still couldn't lift a hand to make it stop -- even though he was perfectly aware and wide awake. He wanted to stop the sound, he needed the quiet back, but for whatever reason his hand just wouldn't listen to his brain no matter how many times he willed it to move.
Aaron hated days like this.
Wednesday | 8:43am
Nicky slung his arm around Aaron’s shoulders, a grin plastered on his face. His hair was slicked back like a low-budget greaser, halfway between wet and just damp. They’d just finished morning practice and he, Nicky, and Kevin were waiting out in the player’s lobby for Neil and Andrew to finish showering and changing so they could leave.
“Aw man, I am hungry. Please tell me that Andrew and Neil are gonna finish up soon so that we can go get a real breakfast.” Nicky's whining was easy enough to ignore most of the time, but today Aaron was tired and his patience was thin. He had three tests to study for, two essays to write, they had a game coming up on Friday, and Aaron didn't have the bandwidth for Nicky, too.
He shruged his cousin off with a snort. "I'm just gonna hitch a ride to the library." There were still a few hours before his first class of the day, and he needed to use that time for something productive.
"Aww, c'mon Aaron come to breakfast with us! We'll drop you at the library when we're done. It won't take too long!"
"What won't take too long?" When Aaron looked over, he saw Neil and Andrew coming out of the locker room, clean and changed.
"Breakfast!" Nicky announced. "Neil, tell Aaron to join us! It's a family breakfast -- he should be there!"
"You can't just label things "family" events as a way to require people to be there," Kevin said with a long-suffering sigh. Even so, Aaron noticed he already had the menu of their usual breakfast joint pulled up on his phone. The pictures of pancakes topped with glistening syrup and fluffy omelets made his stomach clench in an unpleasant way.
Aaron looked away.
"I've got a shit to do," he said. That would be his final word on it, and to demonstrate, Aaron turned to head toward the doors.
Except Andrew had moved to block him, though Aaron hadn't registered when his twin had circled them. Aaron frowned, lifting his chin in challenge.
Andrew just studied him for a long moment before looking just past Aaron, gaze darting over his shoulder to the others behind him. He lifted a hand and a second later a slim object snapped into it. When Andrew then held it out to him, Aaron saw it was a granola bar.
A quick glance over his shoulder exposed the granola bar thrower as Kevin, who was zipping his backpack shut. They matched gazes briefly and Kevin nodded toward the granola bar in Andrew's hand.
"If you aren't going to come to breakfast with us make sure you get something on your way to the library."
Aaron glared at him, then rolled his eyes and turned back to his brother. Andrew just looked at him, expression blank, and continued to hold out the damn granola bar like he could stand there all day without a care in the world.
A flash of resentment boiled through him. Of course Andrew could stand there so fucking unbothered. Barely anything affected him at all.
With an annoyed huff, Aaron snatched the bar out of Andrew's hand and shoved it into his pocket before stalking out of the building.
Wednesday | 1:15pm
Katelyn ❤️ (13:15): Hey baby! Prof Dixon bailed again ~ you free?
Aa. Min. (13:15): McCallister's?
Katelyn ❤️ (13:16): See u in 5! 😘
Wednesday | 1:23pm
Aaron stood inside the confused cacophony that was McCallister's, an on-campus restaurant that was the love child of a deli and a pub but four times too big, regretting his choices.
It wasn't even the noise that was bothering him the most. It was the smell.
Aaron took two steps into the restaurant and his stomach roiled. It twisted and tightened, curling in on itself in disgust at the sharp, slimy stench of cold cut deli meat cushioned on a waft of double-baked potatoes that filled the restaurant like wildfire's haze. He and Katelyn met here for lunch two or three times a week when their schedules lined up. They both liked the food and they had several corner booths where they could hide in and study together after eating. It was one of their favorite places. But right now, Aaron was fighting not to gag.
“Aaron!” Relief warred with dread at the sound of Katelyn’s voice and he hastily plastered on an imitation of the smile he usually didn’t even have to think about, that always rose to his lips whenever she was around all on its own. It didn’t today, but for Katelyn he could make the effort. For Katelyn, Aaron could do anything.
He turned around once that smile was fixed in place and wrapped his arms around her when she joined him, indulging in a quick kiss that soothed some of the nausea churning in his gut. When they broke apart, Aaron turned to lead them toward their usual booth but Katelyn stopped him with a hand on his arm.
“Babe is everything alright?” Worry painted a crease between her eyebrows, her mouth drawn down as she studied him.
Most days, Katelyn’s concern warmed him. It made him feel seen and loved and cherished. Today it put a slash of anxiety through his lungs, breath seeping out through the cut and concaving his chest under the weight of her scrutiny.
Aaron arranged his smile into something tired and unalarmed. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a long week, y’know?”
Katelyn hummed like she wasn’t sure she believed him but was deciding to trust him anyway, then she smiled and she released his arm only to take his hand, giving it a small squeeze. “Alright, then let’s get some lunch and shut out the rest of the world for at least a little bit, yeah?”
The smell of the restaurant was still choking him and even his skin felt tight. The absolute last thing he wanted to do right now was stay there another second, let alone the hour he had until he needed to think about heading to his next class.
“I’m so sorry Kate, I’ve got to meet with the TA for my history class. I remembered right after I texted you but I still wanted to see you so I figured I’d just tell you when you got here.” He offered an apologetic smile and did his best to ignore the way guilt was now mixing uncomfortably well with the sick already sloshing around in his stomach. Aaron did not like lying to Katelyn, it felt wrong. But he also couldn’t... he couldn’t explain what was wrong with him right now -- not because he didn’t know, but because he was sure explaining it was going to make him sound crazy and that was just the last thing he needed right now. It was better to slip away, go somewhere he could focus on homework or something and just... wait for it to pass.
Katelyn’s expression fell, flashing disappointment, then a sad understanding as she nodded. “Of course. It’s okay babe, really. I’m just glad I got to see you at all.” She smiled then -- that bright, warm, just-for-him smile that always had Aaron’s heart skipping. A small knot of tension loosened in his lower chest, just enough that he was able to take a small breath and offer a more genuine smile of his own in return.
“I love you,” he told her.
“I love you too, Aaron. Take care of yourself and I’ll see you later, okay?”
He made no promises before he made his escape, just a smile and a wave.
Wednesday | 3:37pm
The granola bar tasted like ash in his mouth. It felt like there were iron weights attached to his jaw, making it impossible for him to chew. A fist of repulsion locked around his throat, and it was a physical struggle to swallow.
This was the worst part about days like this.
Aaron knew he had to eat something, because he knew what could happen if he didn’t and the only thing worse than having to put up with feeling this way, dragging himself through the mud of his own psychosis one step, one mile, at a time -- was doing it with everyone watching him struggle.
So he forced himself through half the granola bar. He knew better than to push for more than that, or all his efforts would be wasted into the nearest trash can.
Wednesday | 7:51pm
Practice had been brutal. It had been so bad that even Nicky hadn’t been able to cheer himself through it and was just as bitter and on edge as the rest of them by the time they hit the showers.
Aaron sat in the lobby and waited for the others, feeling old. He felt tired. He just wanted these stupid pissing contests to stop and everyone to shut up. He wanted the world to be completely silent, completely empty. Emptiness sounded nice. Sounded peaceful. Sounded right.
The sharp scuff of shoe-rubber against tile had him cringing so hard his shoulders ached and he peeled his eyes open to glare at the source. Andrew stood there, hands in his pockets, blank-faced and too knowing.
Aaron snorted and looked away.
The couch shifted slightly as Andrew took the spot next to him. There was the soft shk of a blade cutting into something crisp and when Aaron looked over, Andrew was holding out a small sliver of apple. His brother wasn’t looking at him. Instead, the other Minyard was dispassionately staring at the tv, which was playing some sports channel that Aaron knew very well Andrew didn’t give a single shit about.
For a long moment Aaron just stared at the side of his twin’s face, but it was impossible to know what, if anything, he was thinking about. Finally, he looked at the sliver of apple. It was pale, small, unobtrusive. Aaron’s stomach clenched, a mix between hunger and repulsion. All he’d had today was that half a granola bar -- which had been both too much and not enough. His throat tightened as he stared at that innocuous slice of fruit, but he was almost focused more on the hand holding it. His eyes burned and he looked away, but not before taking the slice.
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i saw that you write for ikemen vampire as well, so if it's alright with you i was wondering if you could write headcanons for mozart, vincent, comte, and arthur with a depressed/suicidal s/o who's main coping mechanism is humor? like they joke abt suicide a lot + make jokes abt feeling shitty when asked since they dont wanna worry anyone much but their jokes start getting increasingly concerning bc its smth i do a lot lol,, u dont need to do this if ur not comfortable.. thx and love your work!!
anon added: wait fuck i just remembered only three characters for headcanons so just do it for mozart, vincent, and arthur. thank u!
notes: Whaaat, come on, you cannot just do my husband dirty like that, of course I’ll do all four 😆 Before we begin, since everyone experiences stuff like this differently, our experiences might not be exactly the same, so these might not be universal. In any case, I hope you feel better 🥺💕
trigger warning(s): depression, mentions of suicide, and suicidal ideation.
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
He did notice the jokes each time, but at first, he didn’t necessarily feel the need to intervene.
Once was alright, he thought you might just have a different sense of humor. Twice was morbid, but he brushed it off. But thrice was downright worrying, and he was starting to suspect something might be wrong.
He observed you make increasingly dark jokes for weeks on end, and brush off anyone who tried to ask you about them, before he decided that enough was enough.
“What is wrong with you?”
It’s a blunt question, completely tactless, but only because he’s actually quite concerned and doesn’t how else to put it. Nonetheless, it catches you off-guard.
“What do you mean?”
He rolls his eyes, “Don’t play dumb with me, (y/n). Have you been spending too much time with shitty Dazai again?”
When you don’t say anything, the scowl on his face melts into a concerned frown. He wants to help, he really does, but it’s hard for someone like him to deal with such heavy feelings, whether his own or someone else’s. After all, words have never been his preferred medium of expression.
So, he decides not to use them. Instead, he envelopes you in a long, silent hug. It’s a little stiff, but when you start crying softy on his shoulder, he gives in and pulls you even closer, gently stroking your hair.
Up until then, you had no idea that the stern, ice-cold Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart could ever feel so…familiarly warm and soft, with his arms around you.
“I’m not asking you to confess anything, (y/n). I’m not even asking you to tell me anything. I…actually have no idea how to fix any of this, but…Just…know that you don’t have to deal with this on your own.”
Vincent van Gogh
Out of everyone, it would probably take Vincent the least time to notice when something is wrong with you.
The morbid humor is one thing, but what really concerns him is how hollow your laugh has started to sound, and the glazed…empty look you get in your eyes when you think no one is looking.
He notices because he knows what to look for, because he has already seen too much of it, in himself.
“(Y/n), sweetheart, are you okay?”
“Hm? Yes, of course, Vincent. Why do you ask?”
“…Why do you think?”
There is a certain look in his eyes, so wistfully sad, as if mourning something he hasn’t even lost yet, and you just know that he knows. There is no use lying to him. In hindsight, you think, you should have known you could hide it from anyone except him.
When a lone tear slips down your cheek, he gently wipes it away and holds your face with both hands, looking into your eyes. To your surprise, and immense pain, his own are glistening with tears too.
“Why didn’t you say anything to me?”
“…Because it’s my problem and I didn’t want to drag you down with me.”
You realize it doesn’t make much sense now when you say it out loud, but you knew he was all too familiar with this complete and utter despair, this emptiness you felt inside of yourself, and you never wanted him to feel it again, even if it was by proxy.
But now, he stands in front of you, hands on either side of your face, and he places a chaste, gentle kiss on your forehead. He doesn’t say anything, but you realize what he means. I’m here. I understand. You’re not alone.
(note: for those who don’t know, Vincent van Gogh committed suicide at the age of thirty-seven.)
Le Comte de Saint-Germain
He is used to the residents of his mansion having…strange sense of humor and habits, honestly.
Even so, when you make a jest about killing yourself for the fifth time in a row, he can’t help but be worried. There are only two explanations, you either just have a very, very dark idea of humor, in which case there was nothing much he could do except gentle advisory, or there was indeed something very wrong.
He keeps hoping it’s not the latter, but days pass and your jokes keep getting more and more morbid, and any attempts to talk to you about the issue are only met with smooth elusiveness.
“I’m only kidding, Comte. Of course, I’m not going to throw myself off the roof. Probably.”
“…I think we need to talk, ma cherie.”
That sentence in itself is enough to scare anyone half to death, and when you have so much to hide, even more so.
The talk is long and tedious, with quite a lot of repressed emotions involved. On your part, first there is the defensive anger. Of course, there isn’t anything wrong, how dare he imply otherwise? Then there is the desperate denial, because ‘ignore the problem until it goes away’, right? Except, this problem isn’t going away on its own, and you both know that.
Finally, there is the reluctant acceptance, and a lot of crying. Throughout this, he is as calm and collected on the outside as he always is, even when you grip the front of his coat and cry in his embrace. You’re barely holding yourself together, so he needs to be your support.
But on the inside, there is a storm raging. You were supposed to be his responsibility. He was the one who brought you here, and he was just watching you wither away like this in front of his eyes? What kind of a person did that make him? Just how much of a failure is he?
“I’m so sorry for not noticing sooner, ma cherie. I have failed you.”
“Wh-what?”
“I was supposed to protect you from everything, including yourself. Evidently, I have failed at that, and my heart aches at the thought of you suffering all on your own. But I intend to rectify my fault a thousand times over.”
You stare up at him with wide eyes, and without a warning, more tears spill.
Arthur Conan Doyle
Peculiar taste of humor is kind of Arthur’s brand. He enjoys his shamelessly perverted jokes, so he assumed you enjoy your dark ones.
Even so, he does get a little worried when he notices how your first instinct to almost anything is self-deprecation and jokes about killing yourself at the slightest provocation, and how you laugh a little too loud and too much when asked about any of it.
The more he notices, the more concerned he gets, and the more confused about just what to do about it.
At first, he tries to deflect your morbid jokes with some of his own, just to see how you would react. But the moment he talks of killing himself, you go pale, asking him to stop with such distress in your voice that he ends up feeling guilty.
But even after that, it doesn’t stop you from doing it yourself.
“Welp, guess I’ll just go drown in a river somewhere.”
“Ahahaha, but consider this, how about you…don’t?”
He’s always so playful, and even fickle that it almost slips your mind that he is a writer, after all, and a very observant one at that. He is intelligent and notices every little thing, even if he doesn’t show it. That includes the fact that your laugh has been sounding more and more empty lately, your smile seeming more and more like fake plastic.
So, when he confronts you about it, it takes you by surprise.
“Whatever do you mean, Arthur? I’m fine.”
“Right…Stop lying to me, (y/n).”
You frown. You should have known how hard it would be to hide anything from Arthur for too long. How long did you really think you could keep up this façade? The realization comes like a slap to the face, and it’s almost like your metaphorical mask drops. You start crying.
He is distressed at the sudden turn of events, but tries his best to console you. As he hugs you to his chest, gently rubbing soothing circles on your back, he wonders if he could have done something to help you sooner.
“Listen, sweetheart. I don’t claim to know what you’re going through, but I do know that you need help. I know I cannot just fix whatever…this is, but I can promise that I’m going to be here with you, through everything”
You laugh bitterly, “It gets ugly.”
“I don’t care.” He shakes his head, “I’m going to be here with you, whether you want me to be or not, and I promise to hold you together as you scream your throat raw trying to hold yourself together, promise to…stand by you as you save yourself. You do not have to do this alone.”
He kisses you softly, only for a moment, soft and true on the lips.
“Show me every dark and hideous, every bitter thing about your soul…and then, let me love you anyway.”
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No answer
Soulmate AU
Bucky Barnes x Deaf!Reader
Marvel Cinematic Universe
Summary: In a world where everyone is born with their soulmates last words said to them before they die or leave is tattooed somewhere in your body, but your soulmate is unable to see them.
Warning: Angst, death, but fluff before all that.
Word count: 3k, yeah a bit long, sorry.
A/N: I felt like doing a deaf!reader in a soulmate au because why not. And this idea is not mine, i saw it somewhere and credit to them. And also, I kinda love having a deaf character.
Gif ain’t mine but THOSE EYES THO.
Soulmates last words appear as a silver-inked mark on people’s bodies as a punishment from the angels to their actions, yet you didn’t care about them, you saw not actual point in having the last words of the love of your life tattooed, you didn’t understand what did humanity did to have such a bitter punishment as the words you’ll last hear from the person you will love the most just to know that they won’t be there anymore. People actually didn’t enjoy this soulmate thing a lot since they lived wondering if they are with their actual person and won’t find out until the day comes.
So, indeed you didn’t paid too much attention to these words on your collarbone who seemed pretty damn sad and made you want to not even meet them, you didn’t want them to hurt if the scenario of your or their departing was as tragic as the words wrote in silver were.
“Doll, you can’t leave me now, not now.”
You couldn't imagine a happy and calm scenario where those words can be said, no, they were sad, depressive and desperate words, yet you didn't knew if they were because you died too soon or you lived a long live with someone who wasn't ready to let you. Anyway, whoever says does words is hurting and you don't want them to hurt.
You lived your live worrying internally about it to the point that no one else knew about your words and you didn’t spoke about them if you were asked. Yet, your heart now belonged to a man who you deep inside prayed wasn’t the one your words came from, the man whose arm you repaired when you met and made what nobody else has done for you in order to make you happy, Bucky Barnes.
Bucky and you got to know each other in a special way, it happened when he entered the laboratory searching for the person that was going to change his arm after a rough mission. You were arranging the tools you were about to use to place someone’s metal arm as Tony indicated you to. The one-armed man greeted you with a “Good night” and felt a little bit disrespected when you didn’t even flinch to his words, he repeated in case he spoke too softly but yet received no answer.
He sat kind of mad in one of the stools of the lab, waiting for someone else to come and stayed in silence for a while at the same time you searched for something in a shelf, not being tall enough to reach it. “You need help?” He offered talking loud enough for you to be able to hear, but you didn’t. He pursed his lips while staying there, watching you trying to reach for whatever you needed, standing on a stool.
He knew he did some things wrong in the past but you were disrespecting him quite a lot when you didn’t even greet back the simple good night he gave you. He stayed there again, waiting for someone to pay him attention.
Yet you kept there, in your world, not saying a word. After around ten minutes he stood there and you were still submerged in your own world. The impatience winning him over and in need of the repair he stood up the chair and walked to you.
“There’s actual no need to be rude to me, it’s kind of disrespectful.” He said firmly while approaching to where you stood, tapping your shoulder once and make you to flinch quite a lot.
You turned around scared and defensive, moving so quickly you tossed a couple of tools away the table.
The petrified look on your eyes made him feel some kind of pressure in his chest, a guiltiness like no other for scaring the fuck out of you. “Oh shoot, sorry ma’am.” He said but you didn’t answered him again.
You did a sign with your hands, dragging your index finger from your ear to your mouth. By the confused look on his face you stretched to grab a notebook you always had near you and wrote something with a black pen.
“I’m sorry, I’m deaf.” He read in the note, feeling even guiltier if that was possible, he got so mad at you for ignoring him around five times and it wasn’t your fault, you weren’t able to hear him.
“You read lips?” He wrote back in the notebook once you handed it to him, receiving a nod from you. “I do.” You said in a soft almost inaudible voice.
“I’m here for the arm Stark talked about.” He says not as fast as he was used to so you didn’t struggle and then pointed at his arm.
You gave him a soft, warm smile and pointed to a chair so he could take a seat, grabbing the set of things you already had prepared. “I’m really sorry ma’am, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He said when you looked at him before starting, gaining a weak “Don’t worry” in response.
Your voice was really weak, yet soft and warm that his first instinct was to protect you, feeling crazy for thinking such a thing about a women he didn’t knew. You kind of explained to him through the notebook that you were going to replace his arm with a new one Shuri sent from Wakanda and if something hurt he must tell you immediately by rising his hand or something; while he read the message he couldn’t help but think about how beautiful your handwriting was and how much patience you had with him to write everything. He nodded in response and left the book aside.
You started by asking him to remove his shirt so you could remove the arm, yet you ended helping him when some strands of cloth got stuck in the open metal. You couldn’t help yourself by looking for a few seconds to the man’s shirtless torso before starting to remove his old broken arm. You let the arm aside, now starting to fix the wires and cutting open some others so you could connect the shoulder to the new sensorial adjustments Shuri created. You applied him some anesthesia on the shoulder skin and flesh that was still there so the adjustment to the neurons wouldn’t hurt him.
The procedure went well until the readjustment part, he grabbed your hand with his flesh one when he felt a stung in his shoulder that hurt enough even with his really high pain tolerance. You stopped, looking worried at him as he closed his eyes shut, he hated being like this but shit, that hurt badly. After a while he nodded and let you continue with your worked.
He stared at you through the process, paying attention to the little details on your face so he could distract himself of you working and seeing his scars, he noticed the little wrinkles by your eyes when you smiled and noticed how calm you were and looked while working, without the terror he caused you a while ago.
You remember when you finished and connected the wire that made the arm functional, you remembered how he opened his eyes widely at the sensorial panels working, feeling your hands on his forearm. He looked at you in surprise and you chuckled a little under your breath.
You left the tools beside his old arm and watched his reaction, his metal arm moved, readjusting to the size of his shoulder and with his metal hand he reached to you but stopped, considering he could hurt you without knowing this arm’s strength so he instead reached for a tool near him, feeling the cold metal in his fingers and smiled.
“When something hit you abruptly or penetrates the covering top of the panels they will shut down so you won’t feel the hurt.” You handed him the notebook.
“Thank you...” Then it hit him, he hadn’t presented himself to you or asked for you name, where did his manners went? Back in his times his mom would’ve smacked him in the face the second she knew.
“Y/N” You said while doing the hand signs to it. Then he questioned himself about how to say to you his name, he reached out for the notebook again and wrote it so you could know it.
“It’s a pleasure Bu... Bucky?” You said in a question, not knowing how to pronounce it. Then smiling widely at him when he nodded to you, you said it right.
“The pleasure’s mine.” He said and stood up after you did. “I’m still sorry for scaring you.” He said with shame on his voice.
“No big deal, it happens usually.” You say in your soft weak voice and smile at him.
Now he had nothing to do there so you both walked to the entrance of the lab in slow pace in silence, when he got to the door he stood there. “How do you say goodnight?” He asks, wanting to properly greet you this time.
Your warm smile grows in your lips and you do slowly the hand sign, he copies you with concern and doubt in his expressions, smiling proudly when you say it back.
Then he was gone even if he wanted to stay longer, you light up a curious and interested side in him like no one else did before.
The days passed by with him coming periodically to see you for the reviewing of his new arm. Around the second Thursday of visiting you at your lab he greeted you in sign language, surprising you and making you feel extremely happy, he had seen you talk in ASL to your lab colleagues and felt bad for you having to write down everything for him or at least what you couldn’t speak.
He talked to Steve and Sam about you all the time to the point they knew more about you that they should. He talked about your facial expressions while talking in ASL, about how soft your voice was when you spoke, even about how now you knew he entered the lab with the new bracelet Tony made for you with its own AI named MAC (that stood for More Awesome Creations) which was connected to FRIDAY and buzzed in morse code when someone came in the lab.
After some more weeks the visits became biweekly yet he found a way to see you more often than that and you didn’t complain about it at all, you were really happy with having him around.
He got to know about you more and more every time he went, he learned your interests, your manners, your hobbies and even learnt about you past, he now knew that you became deaf twelve years ago at age of fifteen in an accident so you can still talk without hearing yourself. He started asking FRIDAY to show him some pages about learning ASL so you could talk freely with him and to surprise you.
In the matter of months, you two were like best friends, Tony hired you officially and permanently around four months before when you accomplished six months around here. Yet Bucky didn’t just felt things for you like he felt for Natasha or Wanda, his feelings were far away of what friends felt and each day they grew further to the point that Steve, Sam and even Tony and Nat were telling him to ask you out, but he was too afraid of rejection and to make your friendship go to waste that he kept his feelings for himself, befriending you.
On the other hand, you were like a part of the team by the year of being there and they all were pretty happy about your presence. They all had their very own way of friending you, Sam struggled a little bit with learning sign language so he uses quite a lot the little pocket notebook you gifted him so he can talk to you, Tony gifted you for your birthday an intelligent watch that writes in its screen what people are saying to you in case you don’t read the lips fast enough so you can use it in reunions.
Natasha and Clint didn’t struggle at all with learning the language and Steve was actually really agile at learning it too, surprising you a lot. Wanda struggled a bit more so she had another little notebook and pen in her pocket like Samuel, the Queens kid, Peter, was pretty fast at learning it to the point he easily became like your little brother since he spent most of the time at the lab upgrading his suit and his talkative-self forced himself to learn ASL so he can keep telling you about his day at school every day.
And so it went with everyone else, they adapting to you or you adapting to them, whatever came first.
Then, today was the day Fury finally decided to send you in a mission with the team since they were extracting some new tech and you were crucial to take care of it and evaluate it.
Obviously, you were left at the jet with Bruce, who even had some tea onboard to calm the nerves the mission gave him before his time to shine green came.
Bucky was actually really worried for you throughout the mission, thinking about finishing this as fast as possible so all of you can go back to the compound and to have you out of risk, save in his arms.
When the objective was achieved the super soldier was heading back to the jet with Wanda by his side. He smiled at the thought of being back at the compound, laying in the sofa watching a movie while you were reading and playing with his hair, as always.
But that wasn’t in the plans of destiny.
You smiled at both of them warmly and welcomed them, you hugged Wanda, who was the first one on board but when you were about to hug the super soldier his enhanced hearing sensed something, a click and some branches moving and before he could turn around someone shoot you, letting you stand there as a big red stain formed on your chest, right were you heart is, and another two stains formed on your stomach.
Both of them froze for a moment, looking at you as if it wasn’t real, then he finally turned around, spotting the sniper behind a bunch of trees, shooting at him with his weapon.
Bucky raced to reach you before you fell, grabbing you between his arms and leaning you down to the floor slowly as his eyes started to water.
“Doll, hey Y/N, look at me.” He said knowing you couldn’t hear him, his eyes terrified at the idea of losing you. “Doll, look at me, please.” He begged, his voice cracking as his hands were now stained with your blood.
You looked at him, staring right into his blue watery eyes, giving him a little warm smile just as the one you gave him when you first met. “Hey, I’m here.” You whispered with your soft and even weaker voice, rising your hand to spoon his cheek, rubbing your thumb in there to comfort him.
Wanda was shocked, standing by his side, she got down to her knees, putting her hand on Bucky’s shoulder as he held you in his arms, watching a scene no one will ever want to watched.
Then Steve and Tony came over, their joyful expressions breaking at the sight that welcomed them at the jet.
“Don’t leave me Y/N.” Bucky said desperately, you read his lips and tried to smile. “You can’t.” Shit. No, no, no, no, you didn’t like where this was going, no, shit no, it can’t be him, you’d prayed each night and day for him to not be the one so he wouldn’t hurt add he was doing now.
“Bucky, I love you, okay?” You whispered even weaker against the growing pain in your heart, rubbing the tears away of your man’s face. “I love you, remember that.”
It felt like a knife was stabbed in Bucky’s heart when those words came to his mind, no, you said the words that were tattooed on his ribs since almost a century ago, he couldn’t lose you now. “Doll, you can’t leave me now, not now.” He said with the pain in his chest increasing, his tears falling down his cheeks as your eyes were fixed in his.
You were his soulmate and you were just about to die, there was nothing to do, if there was the words wouldn’t be there.
Your chest hurt but not because of the bullet, not anymore, it hurt because of his words, you were soulmates but you were too afraid of ruining everything that didn’t even got to be together. The look in his eyes, his face, he knew it too but even if you tried to speak, no words came out. Both of you were crying, you wanted to kiss him to at least know how it would’ve felt but you couldn’t move too much anymore, you were giving your last breaths.
Bucky thought about it too, leaning until your nose touched his, giving you a delicate and sad first and last kiss. Then he couldn’t hear your heartbeat anymore, he separated a few inches to see you, lifeless with your eyes peacefully closed. “No, doll.” He muttered, not even caring about his colleagues seeing him. “Y/N...” He held your fragile and dead body against his, crying his heart out in your hair. After a little while Steve approached to his friend, putting his hand on his other shoulder.
“Buck, we need to go, more are coming.” He whispered carefully, as if the simplest words could shatter his friend in pieces.
“She was her all along, Steve, and I lost her.” He cried without letting you go and those words were like a bucket of cold water for the rest, Tony and Wanda crying you silently as Steve stepped back to give him the time he needed.
Their friend had just lost the love of his life.
You.
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Part 2 with da angst
2: Young Ranbob did not understand at all what was going on, infact he refused to believe he ever had anything to do with the sabotages, it was only when Dream took over completely and gave Ranbob enough of his mind to know what he was doing, did he finally accept it. He tried and tried to break Dreams control and get control of his body back, but nothing he did ever really worked, and the more he tried Dream eventually began to punish him, forcing him to stop. He felt aboustely awful, like a failure, a murder, and just a shitty person during all of this. His journal shows basically all of his mental decline, it went from normal, him recording special things during the day, to semi-normal, him expression concern and fear over the sabotages and killings (with some out of place words or sentences here and there appearing half way through, showing Dreams presence), to recordings from someone with obvious mental distress (misspelled words, extreme fear, showing fear of himself, hasty writings and drawings, very obviously out of place sentences (their neater than the rest and written differently, written by Dream), and meaningless words and sentences, obviously trying to say something but not knowing how too), all they way to flipping entries of when Ranbob is in control (sadness, despair, hasitly done, regret, and just heavy sentences) to when Dream is in control (Neat writing, stating "facts", showing a level of glee). Ranbob does still have it, he actually still uses it to record what happens in the groups and how far he's come. To the Gladiators its more of a "Hey I found this thing, lets read this thing." "No let's not read the thing." "Im going to ignore you and read it anyway.". The pictures are from the current ruined state of the City of Mizu, and pictures showing Ranbob at the fishermens house, struggling to walk and even eat on his own, though a few are from before Dream ever got a hold of Ranbob.
3: The way you just said "Causally drops some trauma on them, huh?" And "Traumatized gremlins" made me laugh so much. Its so accurate and made me just think of the brothers vibing toghere before I just pop in and drop tons of trauma on them before dipping. "Ah, damn, the opponent stared me in my chest." "WHY ARE YOU SO CALM ABOUT THIS!? YOUR BLEEDING OUT!" "Oh im used to this. Trust me I'll survive...probably." "RAN I SWEAR!". And "Ranbob when did you last eat?" "Uhhh, 2 days ago I think." "..." "D-did I eat too soon? I dont have to eat for another day or two max-" "Ranbob shut up and eat." "B-but-" "If you dont eat I'll tell Benjamin." "OK ok I'll eat." Ran thinks its normal to get stabbed often, while Ranbob thinks its normal to only eat every 2 or 3 days, and to not sleep for a long time. There is one particular hunter that's been hunting him the longest, they go by Raq and are the most determined to get Ran, though they don't plan on killing him, but rather kidnapping him and exploting him for pearls. It was a bit hard at first, Ran kept having to leave to wander around the City for a bit, though he eventually successfully got accustomed to staying in one place, though he does sometimes wish he could travel again.
4: A bit of everything, him getting violent and trying to run at first. But after that it fades more into what resembles a depressive state, with him refusing to move and crying while being lost in his head. He requires space to move around but be monitored in the first state, while for the second he needs constant comfort and physical contact. The aftermath was the fishermen and Jackie staying close to Ranbob for the next 2 days, while Grievous and Watson try to find Ran after he stormed off in anger and disbelief. Ran does know what a relapse means, but during the time he believes Ranbobs relapse might be something else (like his facade faulting maybe).
5: Not long at all, while Ran is carrying Jackie and Cletus makes fun of them as Ranbob is following him, Jackie quickly points out how Ranbob is like a lost puppy, and the same thing is basically happening to the two of them, but showed different ways. (The brothers making sure their family is safe by sticking close to them).
6: By the time they travel to Subbin, Ranbob has gained like 80 pounds and is a way more healthy weight and looks much more healthier than when the fishermen first found him.
7: Their usually either getting materials, looking around the area/exploring, being taught things by someone, or sleeping. Charles was the one who revived the nickname! He called him that when trying different tactics to calm him down from a nightmare, Ranbob immediately froze and after a while started to cry, Charles panicked but Ranbob quickly comforted him, saying he just hasn't heard Bobby used in such a long time and brings back both incredibly happy and incredibly sad memories. And with permission, Charles starts using it more. Ran also freezes when hearing it, immediately going ridged and almost ripping a map he has in his hands, when asked by Grievous what was wrong, he just growled out nothing and moved on. Though he does mull over it later, conflicting emotions running all over him.
8: Helping separate Ran and Ranbob was already big for the gladiators. As most people would just watch with glee. Then when they get time to talk and make the connection between Ran and Ranbob, they decide to make a exception and willingly put in effort to bond with the other group. Also them just naturally connecting made the bonding and trust easy between the groups.
9: They do both! They keep some books, pictures, and other stuff, but sell others as relics. Ranbob mostly disapproves of them selling the items, but also knows it'll probably be best to sell them, and have them either spread the story of Mizu as a warning, or have the story of Mizu destroyed by assumptions and twisting of the story.
10: I'm thinking maybe a Wilbur decendent is inhabiting a certain town, and when the groups stop in for a break, Wilbur decendant houses them and listens to their story, and tries to help?
11: They mostly just find them, they either find them in book stores or ruined towns and cities (maybe I can put The Masquerade tale in here somewhere), a wide range of people, from scholars to plain history nerds, to books from during the time of the SMP itself to books written by seemingly no one. Ranbob finds some himself, mostly when exploring with the group. I think I misworded this! Dream is the one who compared Ranbobs journal to Ranboos memory book! Ranbob knows of Ranboos memory book but he himself doesn't see the connection. Ran feels all of the above. He is extremely ashamed and disappointed in himself for hurting his brother, he hugs him tightly and apologizes non-stop, promising to make it all up to him, and while he asks for forgiveness he also says he doesnt expect for his brother to forgive him. Once he finally sees Dream for real though he's the first one to blindly attack and try to kill em. Though he doesnt succeed.
12: No one expect the brothers where outside in the rain when they fought. So no one knew of what was happening. Its only when Ran finally joined them, but alone, did they get scared and alarmed. And when Ran admits they got into a fight and Ranbob ran off, the fishermen immediately start yelling at Ran and run off to find Ranbob, screaming his name into the deafening thunder. Grievous follows them but Watson and Jackie hang back a bit, Jackie just looks at Ran with a heartbroken expression, tears in his eyes, and asks, with his voice shaking and laced with sadness, "Why can't you at least try to accept him, you dont have to like or forgive him, but why can't you just let him heal?" "Jackie..you dont know what's he done-" "I do know! And I'm willing to help him change and recover! You can't and your his brother! What kind of family member are you?" Ran tries to respond but Jackie just chokes and shakes his head at him, running off to follow the others. Watson then speaks up, simply saying "Mate, your doing more than hurting Ranbob at this point." Before running off to follow and join the others. Ran feels horrible, even before being confronted he so badly wanted to chase after Ranbob, but was to scared too and he constantly was trying to reassure himself that he did the right thing, but no matter what, he couldn't convince himself that was the truth. And after the confrontation, Ran is taking what was said to heart and also considering running away, leaving the group behind and sparing them of all the pain he believes he causes, believing that he's just as bad a family member as Ranbob was. But he doesnt, because he feels like he absolutely needs to talk to his brother and everyone else.
2: Oh god. Poor Ranbob. He really went through it. It does make me wonder, did anyone notice something was up? His mentor? Parents? Friends? Speaking off, what was his relationship with them all? From what I know, he seemed to be under a lot of pressure, so how did that effect things, and how did Dream’s presence change that? And uh, gladiators reactions to reading the diary? Also, did they get caught reading it, or? And how did everyone in general react to the pictures? The fishermen may have taken the latter, but how did they feel about seeing Ranbob before Dream came into the picture?
3: I tell it like it is, glad to hear it’s made you laugh though. And uh, oh boy. On one hand, I definitely shouldn’t laugh at stabbing and possible starvation. One the other. Ran’s reaction. Ranbob being threatened with Benjamin. Is he often threatened with Benjamin? What exactly happens if Benjamin is told? Will Raq be causing future problems? Is Ran happy to be on the road again?
4: That sucks. Did the gladiators witness it first hand, or did the fishermen kind of realize what was happening and split off for a bit? Reactions to either seeing or hearing this happen?
5: Ranbob’s reaction to this? Heck, all of the fishermen’s reactions?
6: As he should. If he ever starts looking even slightly thin again, Benjamin needs to jump into immediate action! Also, give him a blanket and warm drink, please? Please, he needs it, they all do.
7: So not too bad, that’s good. Charles was the one, huh? Interesting. Does Ranbob like having it back? And conflicting emotions, hmm? What would those emotions be? Does anyone ever notice the nickname makes him mad?
8: So the gladiators consider that their big approval? Why’s that? Like obviously, they helped break it up, but was it something particular? Did they get between the two? Jump into the arena? What?
9: A warning of Mizu...there’s something awfully tragic about that.
10: Sounds interesting! In what way would they be able to help?
11: Scattered about, hm? So Ranbob knows about Ranboo’s memory book? Did Dream tell him, or did Mizu have a copy, or? And yay, Ranbob finally gets a hug! Most wonderful! Sad Ran doesn’t succeed in murder, but meh. Always next time, I suppose.
12: You...you were really going for my heart when you wrote this, weren’t you? Um, first of all, ouch. Second of all, also ouch. That’s all I’ve got for you right now. Just, ouch, Anon. Ouch.
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Evening to ya, Ghosti✌️😆
Sorry if the wording sounds silly, but I wanted to ask if you know any rituals I could do for the New Years. 🤣 Christmas hasn't been exactly an easy time for me for various reasons and I tend to get the holiday blues pretty bad, and for a long old while New Years has felt very similar. I'm doing my best to feel hopeful and to have some faith for the new year, but it's turning out to be trickier than I anticipated. So I wanted to ask for suggestions as to do anything that could help feeling more hopeful, I dunno. :3
Though feel free to ignore this if you don't have the energy for it. I hope you had delightful holiday however you celebrated!!! 😊💖💖💖💖
Hey anon! (it’s now afternoon here in the UK, and it was morning when I started this! I got a bit carried away). I don’t know that I’m necessarily the right person to ask about this, but here are some ideas of things I’ve found helpful/centring/calming anyway which you could draw from. Other folks, please feel free to chime in with your favourite ways to put the old year to bed and welcome in the new one!
(first of all, I’m sending you lots of virtual ghostli hugs to help drive away those holiday blues. That sucks, and I’m so sorry it’s been so tough for you.)
Here’s a rundown of what’s below, and I’ll put in a ‘keep reading’ so that it’s not an incredibly long post! Some of it is more on the ‘spiritutal’ side of things, and others are just mundane and practical things.
Congratulate yourself on making it through the clusterfuck that was 2020
Make some tea and meditate on what’s been and what you wish for
Go outside, be still, and breathe deeply
Let go of negative events and thoughts by writing them down, then safely burning the paper
Disconnect from social media for a few days (or however long you’re comfortable with)
Start a bullet journal
Write lists of goals for 2021 and then refine/distill them down to 3 manageable objectives
Commit 100% to 6 months of positive change
Pick three dates/months in the year when good things will happen, and make them happen (including growing veg/fruit)
Light a candle on the full moon or New Year
Ok, so, first of all, you’ve made it through this year!! That’s no small accomplishment, given the sheer volume of absolute shite that has been flung at us from all angles, no matter where in the world you live. Celebrate that. Seriously, I’m not being flippant. Take a moment of stillness wherever you are, be ‘present’, and just think about the fact that you’re here, right now, reading this post. Not everyone is here any more for one reason or another, but you did it. Congratulate yourself and celebrate that. Treat yourself to a slice of cake (or something you really enjoy) specifically to celebrate making it through 2020.
Make a cup of tea (try a new blend or recipe perhaps, or stick with your absolute favourite), or make a comforting drink of your choice. As you pour the water into the cup, breathe in the steam and enjoy the scent of it. Try and imbue all the positive things - memories, achievements, moments etc. - that you encountered this year into the tea/drink, and think about them growing in strength as the tea steeps, and envisage them continuing on to next year too. When you drink the tea, you take the positive thoughts into yourself and they become a part of you. You could try it in the morning with a caffeinated drink (if you enjoy those) and let it fuel you for the day, or you could try a herbal tea at night to let the good vibes steep overnight while you rest. Make it part of your daily routine; a private meditation.
Go outside and find a quiet spot somewhere and either stand or sit and just soak up the atmosphere. If there’s a tree nearby, think about the way its roots are planted in the earth, its trunk stands tall, and its branches reach towards the sky. Feel that space inside you. Breathe deeply in and out, visualising your lungs filling to the deepest parts, starting at the bottom. Count to four for each inhale, and six out (or whatever you’re comfortable with, so long as the exhale is longer than the inhale). This will help to still you and calm you.
If you have something fireproof (can just be a ceramic bowl), take a piece of paper and make a moment to write down all the negative things about this year, using a pen that you’re comfortable with. If you’re not one for words, draw pictures. You can make it really beautiful or just scribble it all down - it doesn’t matter. Get that shit out. Look at it for a while and read it through, mentally letting go of each thing as your eyes pass over it, then light one corner (carefully!!!) and let it burn somewhere with good ventilation (a cooker hood is good for that, but outside is better). Visualise all that negativity being swallowed by the universe and let it go. My favourite line from the Seamus Heaney translation of Beowulf comes at Beowulf’s funeral when a Geat woman is singing her grief at his passing to the sky, and there’s the simple sentence: “Heaven swallowed the smoke.” How beautiful is that? The sky swallowed up her grief as she poured it out to the universe. The negativity might take some time to vanish from your life (it’s not going to disappear at the same time as the paper, sadly!), but watching it go can be the first stage of letting things go. I did this last year, and I’m only just letting go of the last things on that list, but it was a start, and it made me feel more at peace.
Disconnect from social media. I know that with so much more happening online this year out of necessity, we’ve become even more dependant on our phones and computers, and it’s wonderful that we have this chance to connect with people when we can’t see them face to face, but social media can also act as a crucible for negative feelings. People usually post the best or the worst aspects of what’s going on for them or what they care about, so it leads to a skewed view of both the world and of what’s going on amongst our connections. It’s easy to start feeling insignificant next to someone else because of their achievements or their looks etc. and it’s also easy to start to get a bleak outlook when the news is full of terrible stories and people are reacting to it in a volatile and often knee-jerk way. Take some time off - uninstall the apps, or put the limiter setting on, or just step back - for a day, two days, a week, whatever you’re comfortable with. It doesn’t have to be forever. If you use those platforms to talk to people, tell them what you’re doing, and give them another way to reach you if they need. No need to isolate yourself completely!! Think about how you felt before you started it (write it down?) and do the same afterwards, and compare. If it didn’t work for you, then that’s fine too.
Start a bullet journal! Now is the perfect time to start bullet journaling. I first started this year when I felt like time was slipping through my fingers and my life was out of my control, and it’s really helped me to get a sense of order back. It’s not the magic cure-all for procrastinators and time wasters, trust me, but it can help to organise your mind as well as your day, and keep track of your habits etc. It can be literally whatever tool you need it to be. There’s a trend on social media - particularly Instagram and YouTube - that shows off these gorgeous journals that are basically works of art in themselves, and while it’s absolutely fine to aspire to that if you want to, the essential point of the bullet journal is to be a tool. You can buy print-outs from Etsy if you don’t fancy doing your own spreads. But don’t get completely hung up on pretty spreads and layouts because you won’t use it fully then. If you’ve got ‘new book fear’, like I did, make your own! I literally started my journaling by folding a few pieces of paper over, slapping a few stickers on them to cheer them up, and writing some lists. I didn’t buy a ‘proper’ journal until July 2020 when I’d got the hang of what I wanted out of the tool, and how to use it. I adapted one or two things, and I’ll be changing one or two things for next year, but it was a good way to start.
Here are two ‘minimalist’ journals and styles that I found helpful when setting mine up. They focus on usefulness and practicality, rather than overwhelming, artistic spreads and cutesy designs. I’m about to do a ‘plan with me 2021’ journal video for YouTube, so I’ll put that up when I’ve finished it, in case that’s helpful.
Elsa Rhae
Pick Up Limes
Write down the things you want to achieve for 2021. These can be more abstract concepts like ‘more organised’ ‘healthier’ ‘start a business’ etc. Then, when you’ve got as many things as you’d ideally love to achieve/accomplish/manifest (don’t hold back at that stage), take another piece of paper and choose a maximum of six from that first lot to focus on, and below that, choose just three absolutely essential things to focus on. Make those your things for 2021.
Now, this one is a personal one for me, so it may not be applicable at all to you/others, but I’ll share it anyway. For me, I need to make some significant lifestyle changes for my physical and mental health. So, I’ve decided to commit to 6 months of really hard work to bring about those changes. Time is going to pass anyway, from January to June. Six months will come and go anyway. Where will I be in six months’ time? I could be physically and mentally exactly where I am today. That thought is super depressing to me. Or, I could devote 200% focus, commitment, and energy, and bring about those changes, and be the ‘me’ I want to be in six months’ time.
It’s like the adage of ‘given a week to write a speech, it will take you a week, but given a day to write the same speech, it will take you a day’ - your brain will tell you it takes the amount of time that you have at hand to accomplish the task, and that’s simply how long it then takes. Use those three things from the 2021 list above, and commit to making those three things happen.
As an aside, tell someone (whose opinions you value) that you’re going to do this. By telling someone, you’re helping to cement the idea in reality, and you’ve got a support to turn to if it gets rocky, someone to cheer you on, and someone to celebrate with who knew what a struggle and commitment this was to you in the first place.
Pick three points in the year where good things will happen. Book yourself something nice, save up for something and have it delivered then, or tell yourself that you will have achieved [x] by May, or September, or December. For me, it’s a working draft of my novel, and certain health goals by October, but make it yours, and keep those points fixed in your mind. It will help 2021 not to be one amorphous mass of time, and will give it structure and form. You could also choose to grow something in a pot - lots of vegetables can be grown cheaply from seed in a pot on a windowsill, and you’ll have something tasty to eat at the end of it!!
Here’s a slightly gentler idea to finish with:
On New Year’s Eve take a moment to yourself, go outside if it’s not raining or too cold etc., light a candle, hold it (safely) in your hands, and be still. It doesn’t have to be exactly at midnight, but it will help your focus if it’s dark. Otherwise, go to a quiet part of the house and turn the lights down so that the candle flame is your focus. As before, think about what you’ve achieved this year, and be honest, not just negative! It’s very easy to say ‘oh I didn’t achieve anything, it all sucks, it was all awful’, when there will be tiny victories tucked away in there, I promise you, even if it was the toughest year of your life. Then think about where you are at the moment, mentally and physically. Acknowledge that state of being. Look at it with honest eyes. This moment is not for anyone else, so you don’t need to colour it one way or another. It’s for you. If you’re finding it hard not to be negative, be neutral. Let those thoughts come and go, and then turn your mind to the future. Mentally feed those negative thoughts into the flame in front of you, one at a time. Say it out loud if that helps, but do what makes you comfortable. Let the light from the flame fill your mind and your heart, and think about your intentions for the new year.
Tonight (30th Dec) is a full moon, so if that is significant for you, you may wish to do this tonight instead of tomorrow.
I hope that some of that gives you some inspiration, and I hope that people will chime in with their own new year’s rituals and habits. Be honest with yourself but not harsh, and be positive but not unrealistic. This year has been one hell of a ride, and we’re not done yet... Here in the UK, we’ve got the highest numbers of Covid that we’ve ever had, we’re in the harshest lock down (Tier 4) and can’t visit anyone, and we’re also going through Brexit (which is proving a nightmare for everyone, especially small businesses...).
Control the things you can control, and learn and employ systems to ride out the things that are beyond your influence. And take heart - you have a family of folks on here, all across the world!
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As Time Passes Prologue : My Brother, part 1
AO3 link ; Prologue 1 (The Estate)
A collection of scenes from Vinnie’s early life. From his younger years as a toddler to his last years as a teen. From a life of fear to a life of uncertainty. From an abused child relying on the only good people in his life to a young adult determined to make things right for them.
TRIGGER WARNING : child abuse, violence, depression, mentions of drug and alcohol, infidelity. Basically anything that goes with messed up abusive parents. And to that regard, this fic is NOT made to romanticize abuse or mental illness ! There’s also a moment in part 2 mentioning a dystopic future with the urbanization of the world and its consequences on every species (it’s only one part and you see it coming). This also means mentions of animal abuse and LITERAL animal genocide !!
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Notes : Well, this took 8 months longer than expected…
Seriously. I started working on this chapter BEFORE “The Estate”, only deciding later to start with Cav’s backstory because it makes more sense given what I intend to write for chapters 3 and 4.
Though, that chapter is very, VERY long so that also explains the delay. And even despite the size, I feel like I tried to cram in too much elements and underdeveloped some stuff as a result. Like, that whole thing could be a fic in itself if I had enough ideas to fill the holes there and there.
On a lighter note, during that “hiatus”, I read the book “Wanderers” by Chuck Wending and one interlude gave me the idea of putting dates at the beginning of each new part of the story, which is going to come in VERY HANDY for the story (also the fact that the fic is called “As Time Passes” makes it even better).
As for the chapter itself, let’s just say that, after giving an idea of what Cavendish’s life used to be, now it’s time to show Dakota’s. Though, this chapter will be much longer and goes onto basically his entire life before B.O.T.T.. There are also a lot of dark stuff (as said in the trigger warning) because apparently my brain still hasn’t gotten past that teenager need to make anything as messed up as possible.
Regarding the sibling OCs, fun fact : the idea of Dakota having older siblings came partly from Tumblr and partly from my wish to have Dakota be an uncle due to how much the guy seems to love kids (but I don’t see him have his own, for reason that will be talked about in the main fic). Then, while listening to random songs and coming up with Dakavendish animations in my head (yeah I’m THAT kind of weirdo), I ended up listening to “A Guy Like You” from Disney Hunchback and suddenly Dakota had three siblings. Then all that needed to be done was give them a personality and choose which one would have a kid. And then make them all queer because I spend too much time on the internet.
Another thing about them, to make it easier at the beginning : there are four. And for the age-gap, as an example, the fic starts with the ages being 13 (Enzo “Enzie”), 9 (Bettina “Bettie”), 5 (Donatello “Donnie”) and 3 (Viviana “Vivie”/Vincenzo “Vinnie”).
(side-note about the writing at the beginning : using the wrong pronouns for a character is MUCH harder than I thought it would be)
Btw I don’t know how to draw so instead, if you want to see how the siblings look like, I made them in Miitopia (don’t ask). Here’s the link for it (just ignore my ramblings in this...).
Also, while the idea of him having siblings comes partly from my brain, the idea of Dakota being Italian is 100% from Tumblr and AO3 with like half the Dakavendish fandom who seems to follow this headcanon. Hell, I even have an irl friend who told me Dakota gives them a European vibe while I was telling them that one of the reasons people saw him as trans was his height.
(and I guess you could say the same thing about him having heterochromia and being colorblind ; all the credit for these two ideas goes to the fandom)
Btw, despite them being Italians, the dialogue is in english. In future chapters tho, depending on the character’s POV, some dialogue will either be in Italian or in English in italics.
And fun fact : while googling Italian names to help me name these characters, I discovered that there’s an Italian name that’s “Baldassare” and this is 100% how Dakota’s siblings and nephew/nieces would call Cavendish.
And one last “””fun””” fact : the character of Enzo is partly inspired by a guy I know who, by the age of 6, was the one to wake up, dress, feed, bring to school and overall raise his 4 younger siblings. And if you’re wondering, the guy is 23 now and is doing pretty fine (much, MUCH better than the shit I plan for my OC here). And no, the name of the OC isn’t inspired by this guy. I looked up random Italian names for each sibling + Vinnie’s dead name.
Anyways, onto the fic now. Enjoy !
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January 10, 2134
The morning started with their usual routine.
Vivie was sleeping soundly, her brother Donnie by her side, until their oldest brother Enzie came to wake them up. Vivie could hear her sister Bettie grumble, not helped by Enzie urging her to get up. He would always claim that, unlike the other two, she needed to be ready early. They didn’t go to school at the same hours. First it was Bettie, then Donnie, and finally Vivie was brought to the nursery.
Enzie also went to school. Bettie once said that Enzie always turned out late because his school started before them. But Enzie always insisted to take care of them first. The older brother didn’t like letting them alone with Mamma. And, truth be told, Vivie didn’t like it either.
Once Enzie reached their bed, Donnie pretended to still be sleeping and made snoring noises. Sometimes, Vivie would do the same. Today though, she just giggled, listening to her brothers argue.
She couldn’t open her eyes. The light hurt her. So she waited for her brothers to be done, for Enzie to focus his attention to her and give her her sunglasses.
Then, the four kids sat on the beds to have their breakfast, taking out the bags hiding under their beds. Years ago, way before Vivie was born, Enzie had decided that they should all hide their fruits and snacks in the bedroom instead of in the kitchen where Mamma could take them, and the others obeyed.
Enzie was always worried about food. Even though Mamma brought enough for them to eat everyday if they shared in small portions, Enzie insisted that it was never enough, that kids like them needed more than that. He always told them that, if they found something to eat, they should eat until they were full and share if some was left. As a result, Bettie and Donnie often brought food back from their lunch at school.
As for Enzie, how he always found something for the three of them was a mystery. Vivie had heard Bettie get angry at her brother more than once, accusing him of stealing food and talking about how he was going to end up in prison. But then Enzie would show what he got her, and she would stop yelling. But Vivie could see that she was still angry, and it made her sad too. Vivie heard that prison was bad, that the people who went left for a long time.
Vivie didn’t want Enzie to go to prison.
Who would take care of her, if Enzie was not here ?
…
…
Despite her young age, Vivie would sometimes feel bad for Enzie. He was very nice and always helped her when she was upset. But was anybody helping him ? Enzie slept on the scratchy couch in the living-room to let Bettie have her own bed. He refused to eat until his siblings ate enough. He helped Bettie with her homework before doing his. He never slept if one of them wasn’t, willing to tell as many songs and story as needed. He always went outside with them to watch over them. If one of them needed something from Mamma, he would talk to her for them.
Vivie couldn’t talk that well yet. While she knew a few words, she was said to be behind on language. But while she couldn’t communicate, she could observe.
When she was at the nursery, Vivie would see the other children, the other families. She was told about how a family worked.
The parents took care of the children. The parents fed the children, helped them with their homework, told them bedtime stories, watched over them, cared for them, have a bed for each one of them.
Mamma didn’t do any of this. She never did.
Mamma was just there, in the house, with them. Enzie told them not to talk to her. She could be dangerous when she was bothered.
And yet, she would go to them sometimes. She would go outside with them, just walking ahead as she brought Donnie and Vivie to the closest playground. She would mention them on the phone. Vivie even saw her go to Bettie’s school play once.
But the rest of the time, she would be lying down somewhere in “her side” of the house, glaring when any of her children would come close all the while holding one of those bottles Enzie completely forbid them to touch. Or she would be out of the house, especially at night, going to what Vivie supposed was her job.
So, since she was never there, Enzie took care of them.
It wasn’t normal. It wasn’t how the other children lived. Enzie was not an adult, at least Vivie didn’t think so. Bettie said he was as much of a child as she was.
But Vivie couldn’t do anything about it. As of right now, all she could do was finish her morning snack, brush her teeth, let Enzie dress her up and follow her older siblings as they packed for school, listening to the same instructions Enzie gave them each day : “Don’t go with any strangers.”, “Listen to your teachers.”, “Don’t get in trouble.”
Maybe it wasn’t normal, but it was all that Vivie knew. And at the very least, she supposed it was better than nothing.
---------------
October 30, 2134
Vivie didn’t understand how she ended up here, on the examination table of the nearest doctor. She had been in the bedroom, getting yelled at by Donnie for taking his clothes. She always liked his clothes more than her own. But when Enzie arrived to investigate the noise, a confusion happened.
Donnie complained that Vivie took his yellow shirt and his red pants. And while Vivie couldn’t lie about that, she insisted that everything she was wearing was of the same color and that Donnie was using two words that meant the same thing. While Donnie and Vivie went back and forth about colors, Enzie went to pick up a few clothes. He then quickly interrupted his younger siblings, sat Vivie down and asked her to tell him the color of each outfit.
The four years-old was confused but decided to comply. Describing blue shirts, purple costumes and pink underwear. But then, there was the color of the clothes she was wearing, a color Vivie had heard being called by three different names : yellow, red and green.
Each time the clothes would have this color, she would use one of those words randomly, getting several huffs from Donnie, making her feel like she was doing something wrong.
After a few more, the thirteen years-old asked Donnie to close the blinds and turn off every light, which the six years-old quickly did. Then, Enzie requested that his sister remove her sunglasses.
They tried his game again, leading to the same results. The girl started sniffing while twirling one temple of her sunglasses. Was there something wrong with her ? Were her eyes wrong again ? Enzie was quick to hold her and calm her down, singing her her favorite lullaby.
Next thing Vivie knew, she was walked to the hospital by her brother. There, a doctor tried to look at her eyes with a light, leading to a lot of struggling from the young child. He then followed with a guessing game with numbers hidden inside colored circles. It was only then that the doctor explained what was wrong with her.
He called it “color-blindness”. It meant that she didn’t see colors the same way other people did, the same way her siblings did. In his explanation, the doctor mentioned how it was incredibly rare for a girl to be colorblind without any sibling or parent being colorblind as well. Enzie replied that he never questioned his parents about it. And while Mamma seemed able to see colors just fine, the teen had no idea if Papà was the same as her.
But, in any case, there was a way to partially fix this.
The doctor excused himself for a minute, letting the anxious teen and the fidgety child alone. Enzie went to sit next to his sister, who was quick to jump on his lap. He ran a finger through the toddler’s curly hair and she pressed her head against his chest. She smiled, feeling peaceful and safe in his arms.
When the doctor came back, he was holding a small pair of glasses with orange lens, along with two identical balls. Enzie stood back up and the doctor gave the plastic balls to the toddler, telling her to raise her head so that he could put the new glasses.
Once Vivie opened her eyes with the new glasses in place, she found herself squeal in surprise.
The balls in her hands, they weren’t the same color at all ! And those colors…had she even seen them before ?!
While the doctor was talking to her brother, Vivie kept putting the glasses on and off, noticing the immediate difference in colors. How could this even be ?!
But before she could ask any question, Enzie gave her the other pair of sunglasses, took her in his arms, thanked the doctor and left the office.
Vivie seated herself in her brother’s arms, the movement from his walking slowly rocking her to sleep.
“Vivie ?”, the teen’s voice took away the fog in her mind.
“huh ?”
“Did you like seeing those colors with the new glasses ?”
“uh-huh.”, the toddler nodded.
“Do you want to have glasses like that all the time.”
“Yes !”, she replied, her head snapping away from Enzie’s shoulder.
“Then this Saturday we’ll got get you a pair. Okay ?”
“Okay !”
“Good. Now let’s go back home before Donnie or Bettie get on mamma’s nerves.”
As the teenager walked at a fast pace, a new question arose in his sister’s mind.
“Enzie ?”
“Yes ?”
“Do you…you will fall down for my new glasses ?”, the toddler asked full of worry. Bettie had told her the story of how she got her sunglasses. Apparently, she had refused to open her eyes as a baby and, everytime Enzie asked mamma to go see a doctor, she refused. She “didn’t care enough”, Bettie said. So Enzie decided to give her a reason to go, and jumped from a window, forcing mamma to bring him to the hospital, where the then-child was able to convince the doctor to help Vivie.
“Will I…oh ! Oh no, don’t worry !”, the teenager’s laugh didn’t do anything to ease Vivie’s worry. She pouted.
“Do not get hurt !”, she insisted.
“I promise you Vivie, we’re just going to go to a store. I…”, he looked away. “I can get the money for it…I mean…I’m sure mamma wouldn’t mind losing a few euros…”
“Mamma will help ? With no you falling ?”
“She will.”, Enzie assured. “And I won’t fall. Don’t worry about it, piccolina. Everything’s going to be alright.”
---------------
July 4, 2136
Vivie was hiding in a closet. She had done it again. She had taken Donnie’s clothes.
It was something she did a lot, something she had done for a long time now.
It wasn’t that she found it fun to annoy Donnie ! She just didn’t like her clothes. Bettie had tried to get her “good-looking girl clothes” with the little money they had for it, but Vivie couldn’t care less. She only wore the same few outfits, the ones that Bettie never called “girly”. The only “girly” thing she continuously wore was a heart-shaped pink hairclip, but only because it made her sister very happy.
She didn’t want “pretty girl clothes”, she liked Donnie’s clothes more, even if they were too big for her. She actually liked the size of these clothes, as she could flap her hands with the too-long sleeves of his winter shirts.
Sometimes, when Vivie wore his clothes, Donnie would just let it go and they’ll keep playing together. But other times, like today, Donnie got upset by it. And now, the seven years-old had gone to fetch their older brother.
So Vivie stayed hidden, not wanting to face Enzie’s anger. Las time she saw him, the fifteen years-old had been with Bettie, busy doing homework. And Enzie didn’t like being interrupted by their “small and stupid arguments”, as he once put it. Especially for homework. For the last year, he had been complaining more and more about how he never had the time to just sit down and work with three noisy kids running around and needing him left and right.
Still, it didn’t take long for the child to hear the sound of his footsteps getting louder and louder as he approached.
“Vivie !”, the older brother called.
“I’m not here !”, the five years-old replied. She heard her brother sigh.
“Vivie, come out there. We need to have a talk.”
“I don’t want to !”, another sigh.
“Vivie, I’m not mad at you. Just come out. I’m not going to yell.”
“...Promise ?”
“Promise.”
Tentatively, Vivie opened the closet’s door and caught sign of her brother. He was sitting on her and Donnie’s bed. As she opened the door a little more, he patted the space next to him.
She left the closet and went to sit on the bed. Enzie watched as the child scooted over towards him, looked at his face, scooted a little more, looked at him again and finally moved to sit on his knees.
“You want to talk ?”, Vivie asked.
The teen nodded.
“You’re not angry ?”
He shook his head. Vivie looked in front of her as she considered it. If Enzie wasn’t angry about the clothes, then why did he want to talk to her ? But her thoughts were interrupted by the fifteen years-old putting a hand in her hair, prompting his sister to snuggle against his chest.
“Polpetta ?”
“Yeah ?”
“Why do you keep stealing Donnie’s clothes ?”
“I don’t steal them.”, Vivie protested. “I wear them.”
“And why don’t you wear your clothes ? You don’t like them ?”, Enzie’s voice was calm and soft, though Vivie could still hear the sternness and tiredness his voice often carried.
The child shook her head as a reply.
“But you like Donnie’s clothes ?”
“Yes.”
“Why do you like them more than yours ?”
Vivie had to pause to think for a moment. With her worry from earlier and the drowsiness form feeling a hand play with her hair, she found it hard to think.
“Is it because of the colors ?”, Enzie continued. “Or the size ? Or is it because you have girl clothes ?”
“Yes ! That !”, she suddenly jerked.
“You don’t like girl clothes ?”
“Nuh-uh.”, she replied.
“Why not ?”
Vivie was back to thinking. Why didn’t she like girl clothes ? She knew she didn’t like it when Bettie called them girl clothes, but why ?
“Do you want me to tell you what I think ?”, Enzie asked with a smile. Vivie looked up at his face and the teen chuckled. “I think you don’t like girl clothes because you don’t like being a girl. Do you like being a girl ?”
Yet again, Vivie looked away with a frown as she tried to concentrate. Was it true ? Did she not like being a girl ?
Vivie didn’t like her girl clothes. She didn’t like people pointing at her and saying she was a girl. And everytime Bettie wanted to play with her, Vivie would refuse. She didn’t like playing dress-up with Bettie. She preferred to play marbles or yoyo with Donnie. Even at school, she tried and liked spending time with boys more than girls, even though the largest group of boys always rejected her.
But were all these feelings because she wasn’t a girl ?
“I dunno.”, she finally replied, looking at Enzie with a pleading look, as if her brother held all the answers.
“Let me put it that way.”, the teenager continued. “If you were a boy, would you be happy about it ? Just imagine yourself as a boy. With boy clothes. A boy’s voice. A boy’s name.”
Vivie did. She could picture herself among the other boys of kindergarten. She looked like them, talked like them, belonged with them. The thought made her smile. When she opened her eyes, she bounced, looking at her brother with a smile.
“I want to be a boy !”, she exclaimed.
“Are you sure ?”
Vivie nodded excitedly.
“Alright then.”, the teen shrugged. “Polpetta-to, since you’re so eager at the thought of being a boy, how about we got get the tablet downstair to find you an actual boy’s name ? And see if you like it ?”
Vivie jumped off of Enzie’s laps and ran downstairs, leaving the room before the teenager even had the time to stand up.
Half an hour later and the two siblings were still at the coffee table, Enzie reading through a list of names starting with the letter “v”. Vivie wanted a new name that sounded like her current one.
“Vittore ?”
“ummm. No.”
“What about Vladimir ?”
“…Maybe ?”
“We could call you Vladdie. Or Vaddie.”
“no.”
“Are you even sure you want a new name ? Maybe I was wrong earlier when I said you were a boy.”
“No ! You’re not wrong ! I’m a boy ! I want a boy’s name ! Just like you and Donnie !”
“Alright then.”, the teen sighed. He mumbled something.
“huh ?”
“Nevermind. How abou-“
“What are you two doing ?”, Vivie’s head perked up at the sound of Bettie’s voice. The eleven years-old was on top of the stairs, trying to look at the tablet over Enzie’s shoulder.
“Looking for a name for our little brother over here.”, the teen replied. “Where’s Donnie ?”
“In the bedroom.”, Bettie walked down the stairs. “You know Enzie, when I complained that Vivie acts like she wants to be a boy instead of being stuck as a girl, I was joking.”
“Maybe you were but he wasn’t. At least I think.”
he…their brother… Vivie liked being called that.
“Then…it looks like I don’t have a little sister after all.”, Bettie commented with a hint of sadness in her voice. This made Vivie frown. Sh-…He didn’t want to make his sister sad.
“Maybe not,”, the oldest brother defended. “but instead, you have a great little brother.”
“I guess…”, she went to stand near Vivie, her younger brother. “So,”, she continued. “you’re looking for a boy’s name ?”
“Uh-huh !”, the child replied.
“Found anything you like yet ?”
“We’re trying.”, Enzie replied, putting his head back onto the list.
With the teen’s attention away, Bettie turned back to Vivie.
“Say, once you’re done with that, how about we go return your clothes and buy you better ones ?”
“Yes !”, Vivie jumped in his seat. That’s when he remembered the hairclip he was still wearing. He took it off and presented it to Bettie. “For you.”, he explained. “I won’t wear it now. But you like it. So you should wear it.”
Bettie smiled. “Alright. Whatever you say, patatino.”, she looked at Enzie. “Found other names ?”
“You have Vivaldo, Vidone, Vezio, Vincenzo or Vincent in English,-”
“Vincenzo ?”, for some reason, the name stuck with him. Vincenzo…
“Do you like it ?”, Bettie asked. Vivie nodded. “You want to be called Vincenzo ?”
“I think so…yeah…yes ! I want to be Vincenzo !”
“Finally !”, Enzie sighed, dropping the tablet on the table. The two younger siblings just stared at him, until he glanced back and smirked. Bettie laughed.
“Let’s go return your old clothes, Vincenzo.”, the sister said, already on the move.
“Coming !”, the youngest sibling jumped to follow but was interrupted by a hand on his shoulder. Enzie ruffled his hair with a smile.
“Hope you’re going to enjoy being a boy, Vinnie.”
When the evening came, there was one last thing to do.
Vincenzo…Vinnie was standing in the doorway, his fingers tapping the wall as he anxiously watched Enzie walking towards Mamma. The woman was in the kitchen, making herself one of those drink Enzie prevented them to touch.
“…Claudia ?”, the teen asked.
“You know better than to bother me, Enzo.”, Mamma replied in a sharp tone without looking up from her bottle. She took a sip while Enzie seemed to gather his courage.
“It’s about-“
“Enzo.”, Mamma warned. Vinnie didn’t miss how her hand moved to the top of the bottle and he shivered, grabbing the wall. He knew exactly what mamma could do when she was angry.
“Vinnie is a boy, not a girl !”, the fifteen years-old blurted out before taking a few steps back.
Mamma turned around and glared at her son, but she didn’t make a move to hit him. Still, this didn’t make Vinnie feel any less tense.
“Vivie…Viviana. His name is Vincenzo now. He’s a boy.”, Enzie continued with a firmer voice.
Mamma’s gaze seemed to lose some of its anger, though she still gave the teen a dirty look. After a few seconds, she glanced at the child at the door and Vinnie froze. She started to make her way towards him, almost instantly followed by Enzie who ran to his little brother, holding him protectively against his chest.
Mamma ignored him, her gaze on her youngest child. Vinnie looked down, gripping Enzie’s shirt in fear.
“Very well, Vincenzo. And please make your brother understand not to bother me when I’m busy or he’ll deeply regret this.”, and with that, she went to her bedroom, bottle in hand.
Once she was out of view, Enzie let out a deep sigh of relief and let go of his brother. Vinnie continued to cling on his shirt for a moment. He started crying and buried his head in Enzie’s chest, trying to cover his sobs. The older brother ran his fingers in Vinnie’s hair in a soothing motion.
“Shhh, let it all out. It’s okay to cry.”, Vinnie kept his head where it was, though his sobs became louder. “There you go. It’s alright. Everything’s alright.”, Enzie was right, and Vinnie knew it.
Vinnie had a new name. He had new clothes.
His siblings supported him.
Enzie told him that, if he did continue to feel like a boy, there could be a few changes for him to do once he’s older, at least if he wished to. Enzie promised he would do anything to make sure these changes happen.
But for now, they did everything that could be done.
They talked to mamma.
Mamma had accepted him.
…
He was going to be alright.
As long as he stayed away from mamma, as long as he kept listening to Enzie, everything was going to be fine.
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March 22, 2137
Vinnie didn’t know what to make of Papà.
As far as the six years-old could remember, which wasn’t a lot, papà would show up from time to time starting in January. He would spend the afternoon talking to mamma, or going to her bedroom, and then he would leave.
Papà never stayed the entire night. He never showed up two days in a row.
And once spring was coming to an end, during the first days of July, he would leave and not come back for the rest of the year.
Vinnie was curious about the man. He was his papà after all ! But he never got to interact with him, never got to sit down and talk to him. He wanted to learn who he was, what he liked, why he was only here from time to time and why it was only during winter and spring…
Vinnie had tried asking his siblings about papà, but none of them gave him a satisfying answer.
Donnie was as lost as he was. He never had an opportunity to talk to papà, always afraid to run into mamma or to have Enzie yell at him for it.
Bettie looked at Vinnie with sad eyes, told him not to go see papà, that he was dangerous. When the brother asked why, the twelve years-old refused to answer.
As for Enzie…
Enzie didn’t like papà. He said papà was very dangerous, that he didn’t care about them, that the four kids shouldn’t waste their time with him.
Everytime the kids would stumble across him while walking through the house, papà would stop in his tracks to gaze at them with an indecipherable expression. Enzie would immediately shush his younger siblings away, all while glaring at the man. Sometimes, Vinnie would look at his papà and see him glare back at the teen.
While Vinnie didn’t know much about his papà, since he never got to interact with him, there was at least one thing he was sure of.
Enzie hated papà.
Papà hated Enzie.
And because of that, Enzie would never let his siblings approach him.
But one day, Vinnie got an occasion to talk to him.
Enzie was doing homework upstairs with Bettie. Now that the teenager was in high-school, and with the other siblings old enough to be unsupervised for a while, Enzie decided to spend more time working on his future. In the meantime, Bettie has chosen to step up and help him, looking after her younger siblings if needed.
But right now, neither of them was downstairs. Same thing for Donnie.
That was how Vinnie found himself peeking inside the living-room where his parents were. His papà was sitting on the couch with his arms and legs stretched out, while mamma seemed to be “making herself a drink” as Bettie called it. The child crouched down at the entrance and listened as his papà talked.
“-shouldn’t be there anyways.”
“You say the same thing every single year, Pietro. And yet, you always come crawling back to me. It’s been more than ten years. Just admit you can’t help it.”
“Just like you can’t help having your load of kids ? Do you have any idea how much they cost me ?!”
“You can stop sending me money any time you want.”, Vinnie could almost hear the laugh in her voice. “But I don’t think your little family will take it very well once I go to ask them for my money.”
Papà grumbled and looked away from her. “You’re the shittiest human being I ever met, Claudia. I hope you know that.”
“You’re no better yourself. Lying and cheating at any given chance. Honestly it’s a miracle she still doesn’t suspect a thing. You two really found each other. So naïve and in denial of the truth about the world. ~ ”
As mamma kept smirking and teasing papà, the man was getting more and more angry. Vinnie could see his hands gripping on the sofa, as if trying to rip it off. This made the child tense up at the prospect of his parents fighting.
“What now ?”, mamma suddenly spat in annoyance. The two adults glanced at Vinnie, and that’s when he realized that he had been anxiously tapping on the doorway’s wall, giving himself away with his noise.
“Umm…hi…”, Vinnie said in a quiet voice, waving awkwardly. Now that he had been caught spying, he might as well show himself more. Who knew, maybe this would be his only occasion ever to talk to papà !
Mamma just huffed and went back to pour her glass, while papà kept his eyes on the child.
“This is the youngest one, right ?”, papà asked. “Viviana ?”
“Vincenzo.”, mamma corrected before Vinnie could. “Turns out your daughter was a son this whole time.”
“And you changed her-his name, without my permission ?!”
“If you have a problem with that, you can talk to Enzo about it.”
Papà looked down, teeth gritted. “This child should learn a little respect.”, he spat.
“Have fun telling him that.”, mamma replied, completely impassive.
“Why don’t you at least try to teach that boy anything ?!”
“I don’t know. Why do you suddenly care about these children ?”, she shrugged. “Besides, Enzo’s almost an adult. He’s not my problem anymore.”
“You’re going to throw him out ?”
“He intends to throw himself out.”, mamma explained. “But maybe if you give us more financial support, he would have half a mind to stay.”, she joked. Papà was not amused at all.
The man punched the couch and fell silent, looking away from the mother and son. For a few moments, Vinnie just stood there, observing the man with hesitation. He knew he should be leaving, now. If Enzie saw him there, his older brother would kill him. But right now, as he felt so close to having a moment with the older man, his curiosity to meet his father was stronger than his fear of consequences.
Eventually, Vinnie saw papà’s fists unclench. This prompted the child to try and make a move. With hope to finally have a conversation with the man, Vinnie tentatively walked to the couch. When the man didn’t move, Vinnie put a hand on his knee.
Still no reaction.
Getting more and more hopeful, the six years-old hopped on his knees. Papà still didn’t move.
Well, it seemed like Vinnie had to start the conversation.
“I…um…”, Vinnie had his hands on his own knees, opening and closing his legs awkwardly as he thought of what to say. “I’m…I’m not Vivie anymore. I’m Vinnie now.”
No response.
After a few seconds, Vinnie started wondering if maybe his siblings were right. If maybe it would be better to just let it go and leave, especially seeing the dirty look mamma was giving him. But before the child could move, something he didn’t expect happened.
Papà put a hand on his back.
Vinnie froze and looked up. The man still wasn’t looking at him.
Without much thinking, Vinnie pressed his face against papà’s chest. Suddenly, the hand on his back start moving, reaching his shoulder and slowly rubbing it.
Vinnie looked up as papà looked down at his face. The child smiled but his gesture wasn’t reciprocated. The older man just seemed to study his face, keeping the same neutral expression.
Vinnie had no idea how much time wet by before papà decided to open his mouth.
“Why are you wearing those ?”, he asked, tapping the corner of Vinnie’s sunglasses.
Vinnie felt himself ready to jump in happiness. Papà was talking to him ! They were having an actual conversation ! He could learn more about him !
But instead, Vinnie did his best to stay calm, letting his only sign of excitement be the rapid movement of his legs. He really didn’t want to ruin the moment.
Besides, thinking of how papà had acted earlier made the child feel intimidated by the man.
“It’s..for my eyes.”, he explained. “The light is bad for my eyes. So I need to wear those. I also can’t see every color without them.”
“How did you get the money for that ?”, the man asked, glancing at mamma. “Why wasn’t I told about this ?”
“You would have known already if you spent more time here taking care of your children, since you suddenly seem to love them so much.”, she replied in a sharp tone. “Or would it be too suspicious for your dearest missus ? ~ ”
Papà didn’t replied, instead looking back at the child still in his lap. Vinnie didn’t really know what the adults were talking about, and he had a feeling it wasn’t something he was supposed to understand. If anybody were to take care of it, it would be Enzie.
Vinnie was still in his thoughts when papà lifted his head with a finger, taking a better look at his eyes. Remembering his experience at school, Vinnie instinctively grabbed the sides of his glasses in case papà tried to remove them.
“Your eyes…”, the man commented. “They’re different colors ?”
“Uh ? Oh ! Oh yes they are !”, Vinnie was quick to reply. He smiled again, seriously wondering why Enzie was so against them talking to papà. Sure, the man was a bit scary when talking with mamma, but at least he seemed to care about his son. More than mamma at least…Or, well, when he was around at least…
“Vincenzo ?”, papà was moving a hand in front of Vinnie’s face.
“Uh ? Oh ! right ! My eyes !”, Vinnie quickly pointed to his left eye, tapping the glass. “This one is blue. And this one-“, he pointed to his right eye. “is brown. Just like yours !”, he commented with a smile.
“…Sure.”
The man fell silent again and Vinnie looked down, trying to find another thing to say.
“…Sa-“
“VINNIE !”
Vinnie froze at the familiar and booming sound of his oldest brother’s voice.
Uh oh…
“Enz-“, papà tried.
“YOU GET AWAY FROM HIM !”
Enzie ran into the room, snatched the six years-old away and walked out, all while looking at the older man with a murderous stare. Vinnie was able to give one last glance at his parents before the door closed, seeing papà stare in confusion and anger at Enzie while mamma walked towards the man with the same impassive expression, as if she had expected something like that to happen.
With the door now closed, Enzie put his attention onto the scared child.
“WHAT WHERE YOU THINKING BEING WITH THEM ?!”
“I…I just wanted to talk to papà…”, Vinnie sheepishly replied, his head down.
“THAT MAN IS DANGEROUS, VINNIE !”
“But we were just talkin-“
“VINNIE !”
Vinnie fell quiet, finding himself unable to meet his brother’s gaze. He instead focused on the underside of the shirt he was gripping on.
After a few moments, Enzie managed to regain his composure. He sighed.
“Listen, Vinnie. I know you just want to talk to papà, but that man is a bad person. I’ve seen him hurt mamma before, he’s as dangerous as she is, if not more.”, Enzie lifted Vinnie’s head. “I just want you to be safe, polpetto, alright ?”, Vinnie nodded, still avoiding Enzie’s eyes. “Good.”, Enzie kissed his forehead. “Now let’s get back upstairs, alright ? I think I can already hear Donnie calling for you. ~ ”, the teen said in a way that Vinnie knew was an attempt to light up the mood.
“…Alright.”
Enzie held Vinnie’s hand as he led him to his bedroom. Vinnie just followed in silence, stuck into his own mind.
Enzie was a good person. He took care of Bettie, Donnie and him.
Enzie hated papà, and papà hated Enzie.
But did that really mean that papà was a bad person ?
Was there really no way he could prove that papà was better than Enzie thought ?
…
…Will Vinnie ever get the occasion to talk to him again ?
---------------
April 10, 2137
Enzie and Bettie talked a lot when they were doing homework. Sometimes, Vinnie would hide behind the office’s door to listen to them.
They talked about all kinds of topics. From school to the girls Bettie liked to even Donnie and Vinnie and how annoying the brothers could be at times, making the older duo feel exhausted.
But other times, they would talk about their parents, about how they felt about them.
It was obvious that Enzie hated those kinds of talks. But at the same time, he always seemed to use Bettie’s curiosity as an occasion to tell her to avoid being around them.
Bettie mostly asked questions about the relationship between her parents and why they acted the way they did. Enzie answered as best as he could, but even he barely knew about them.
However, among the flow of questions Vinnie heard Bettie ask, one in particular stood out to him.
Does mamma have other men in her life ? Does the four of us come from the same papà ?
When she asked this, Bettie was mostly talking about Donnie and how different the eight years-old looked compared to his siblings.
Curious, Vinnie started to pay attention to the facial features of his family and, soon enough, the six years-old understood what his sister meant :
Out of all of them, Donnie was the only one who didn’t look like papà at all.
Enzie was almost a perfect replica of papà. He had the man’s square chin and nose, his thick eyebrows that were more than often furrowed, along with papà’s curly hair that, in Enzie’s case, was slowly growing past his shoulders. Vinnie wondered how much the sixteen years-old hated looking so much like the man he despised more than anyone else. The only real difference between the men was color, with Enzie having mamma’s black hair and blue eyes where papà had brown eyes and light brown hair.
Vinnie was the second closest to papà. Just like Enzie, he had his old man’s chin, nose and curly hair, though his chin wasn’t as pronounced as his oldest brother. Vinnie even had a brown eye and brown hair, even if his hair was darker than papà’s. Aside from that, the child had one blue eye, like mamma’s, and his eyebrows were not as thick as papà’s or Enzie’s.
Bettie, on the other hand, was more of a mix of her parents. While she had a square chin, it was less pronounced, like for Vinnie. She also had mamma’s smaller nose and eyebrows. For the rest, it was all papà’s. She had his brown eyes and curly hair, which she almost always tied into a bun.
Finally, there was Donnie, who couldn’t be more alike to mamma. He had her rounder head, smaller nose, thin eyebrows and her long straight raven hair that he kept in a ponytail. The only thing that made him different from her, aside from height, voice and personality, was his brown eyes that deferred from her ocean blue ones. Though, as Bettie had pointed it out, a lot of people had brown eyes. From her point of view, any man with brown eyes could be Donnie’s father.
Vinnie never talked about it to Donnie. He didn’t feel the need to.
Even if he did wonder sometimes if they had the same father, it didn’t change the fact that Donnie was his big brother. That Donnie was his best friend and favorite playmate.
Papà or not, Vinnie loved Donnie as much as he loved Bettie and Enzie. If not more.
---------------
November 15, 2138
Today was the day.
It was Enzie’s 18th birthday. The day everything was going to get better. The day they were finally getting away from mamma and papà !
The oldest brother had been talking about it to his siblings for months. Now that he was an adult, he could “have custody of you three instead of losing you to the system”, as he said. Vinnie wasn’t sure if he fully understood what Enzie meant. At least there was one thing he was sure of.
Enzie was trying to protect them no matter the cost. He was willing to do anything for them.
That’s what led the four of them into a lawyer’s office.
Mamma was there with them. As far as Vinnie knew, she hadn’t shown any objections to her son’s decision and even wanted to help his case, claiming that the fastest the trial would go, the less money she would have to waste.
Mamma was sitting in one of the two chairs of the small office. Vinnie and Donnie were sharing the second one, the two oldest siblings standing between them and their mother. Vinnie was bouncing his legs, squirming a bit in his chair. Several times, Bettie gently nudged him, telling him to stand still, but he simply couldn’t do it.
He was bored.
Enzie and the lawyer were talking things Vinnie didn’t understand. And when he understood, his mind would quickly end up zoning out. He mostly thought about how papà was supposed to be here, wondering what was taking the man so long.
He wished he had his toys with him right now. Or anything else that could distract him.
It was during a short moment of focus that Vinnie heard the footsteps coming from the hall, getting louder and louder.
The door busted open, revealing a woman the eight years-old had never met before. She had long frizzy brown hair that was slowly falling back on her shoulders after her running. As she entered the room, she pushed her glasses back onto her nose and looked around until her emerald eyes landed on mamma. She glared at the black-haired lady.
“I had to see it with my own eyes to believe it !”, the new woman said.
“Missus Dakota, I presume ?”, mamma replied. She was sitting cross-legged, her arms folded and her eyes closed, seemingly completely unfazed by what was happening. This confused Vinnie. How could she be so calm when some stranger was yelling at her ?
The child, on the other hand, was glancing in fear at the new lady. When the door had opened, he instinctively took hold of Donnie’s shirt. The ten years-old had been quick to return the gesture. Meanwhile, Bettie had gotten closer to the chair while Enzie stood between the three of them and the door, arms stretched protectively.
“To think this all went under my nose for EIGHTEEN YEARS !”, the lady continued. Vinnie’s grip on his brother’s shirt tightened. The lady was taller than mamma, somehow making her even more intimidating in the moment.
Before mamma could reply, new footsteps could be heard outside. Despite the commotion in the room, all eyes turned towards the door. Two children peeked inside the room. They looked around the same ages as Donnie and Vinnie. But more importantly, their features looked awfully familiar to Vinnie.
Enzie was the first to react.
“Who the hell are you ?!”, he yelled, pointing at the two children. “Who are all of you and what are you doing here ?!”
Before the lady could answer, papà finally arrived, looking at her with an uncertain gaze.
“Serena, you shouldn-“, he tried gently.
“DON’T YOU TRY FINDING EXCUSES !”, the lady replied, her anger now directed towards papà. “HOW DARE YOU HIDE ME ALL THIS ?!”, she continued to yell, cutting papà everytime he was opening his mouth.
Vinnie started feeling tears form at the corner of his eyes. He was scared. Overwhelmed. He had no idea what was happening aside from “the adults are all fighting”. So naturally, the eight years-old turned his attention towards the one new adult that was always there when he was feeling upset. He moved to sit with his chest against the chair’s back, gripping it tightly. From here, he had a good view of his eldest brother.
Surely Enzie had the solution to all this. Surely he could make it all better.
At least, that was what Vinnie hoped.
The oldest brother was looking between the different adults in disbelief. Suddenly, he froze with a look of horror, as if he had just understood something really, really bad.
“YOU HAD A WIFE THIS WHOLE TIME ?!”
Somehow, Enzie’s booming voice managed to quiet the fighting. The lady -Serena- looked at him in confusion for a second, until her face bared the same shocked expression as the oldest brother.
“You didn’t know…?”, her whisper was barely audible. She glanced at the rest of the siblings. “None of you did…?”, while Vinnie believed she was still angry and could blow at any instant, he felt like there was a hint of sadness in her voice. Was she feeling pity for them ? Why for ? What did Enzie meant ? With everything happening, Vinnie found himself unable to follow.
“Bettina.”, mamma suddenly interrupted. Serena’s expression immediately darkened, as if she had just remembered the other woman was in the room. “Why don’t you take your younger siblings outside ? The adults are talking, and there’s already enough shouting as it stands.”
“I…um”, Bettie glanced at Enzie. The older brother put a hand on her shoulder and Vinnie could hear him whisper “go”. “Alright. Yeah.”, she turned to the boys still on the chair. “Come on, ometti. Let’s go to that playground we saw on the way in.”
Donnie and Vinnie shared a confused look before getting down the chair. The room was deadly silent as Bettie took their hands and led them out, under the adults’ gazes.
Right before the door closed behind them, Vinnie turned around one last time, seeing the adults ready to go at it again under the confused and concerned look of the lawyer.
He hoped Enzie would be alright…
--------------
December 3, 2138
The case had been taken into court. There had been a trial already, during which each sibling had been asked to testify about their living conditions. The younger trio spent their entire time talking about how their oldest brother had been taking care of them for as long as they could remember.
Vinnie didn’t know how to feel about all this. He had a hard time understanding everything. But most importantly, he was getting impatient.
It was obvious that mamma was bad at taking care of them. Why couldn’t the judge see it already ? They should already be on the road by now ! The eight years-old and his brother Donnie had already started to pack. Somehow, they hoped it could make things go faster.
The whole situation had also taken a toll on Vinnie’s grades. He already had trouble at school, between barely finding the motivation to do any homework unless someone was helping him and being seen by his teachers as agitated, more so than the other kids. And now that he had to worry about where he will end up soon, Vinnie simply couldn’t help zoning out in class to think about it.
And after the first trial, it only grew worse.
His teachers had gotten angry and started punishing him for it.
Vinnie couldn’t wait for Enzie to take them away.
…
…Enzie…
These last weeks, the older brother had been…distant. He spent all of his free-time in the office, working on his case. He only helped his siblings with basic things. Mostly food.
But more than that, the eighteen years-old had gotten more aggressive towards his parents since that day in the lawyer’s office. He couldn’t stand being downstairs if mamma was around. He was insulting them at any given chance, including during the trial they had had.
Enzie was also trying to get things to go as fast as possible. He absolutely wanted to leave before spring, before papà was around again.
Or so Vinnie thought he did.
According to Bettie, papà wasn’t going to ever come back home. At first, when the youngest brothers asked why, she refused to answer.
It had been like this ever since the day they met the lawyer. When they came back home that day, Enzie locked himself in a room, eventually letting Bettie in to tell her everything. The two then refused to explain the situation to their brothers.
That was, until one day.
Enzie had come back home, looking more stressed than usual. When Bettie went to ask if everything was alright, he snapped at her -something about their parents being the absolute worst-, and went to lock himself in the office. After that, Bettie had gone back to the bedroom, clearly upset by it all. And when Donnie and Vinnie asked her what Enzie meant, she told them the truth that forever changed Vinnie’s perception of his father :
Their parents never loved them. They never wanted them. At least, not the way they were meant to be wanted.
Their mother was a drug dealer, a criminal. There wasn’t a single penny she earned honestly. Her whole life revolved around getting money through schemes.
As it turned out, having children had been one of those schemes.
Mamma and papà met in an alley, in the middle of the night. Mamma had been out to sell illegal substances. Papà had gotten bored being home alone. His wife, Serena Dakota, had a job that led her to leave the country between January and July. They hadn’t been married for long when mamma and papà met. Bettie said it might have been a reason for his actions.
Papà “wanted a good time”, as Bettie said. He was out to meet a few women, doing things the older sister refused to explain to her brothers.
It was while looking for those women that papà ran into mamma. And when she heard what he wanted, she decided to use the situation to her advantage.
“She held him at gunpoint.”, Bettie explained to them. “The first night, Mamma had looked to steal his phone while he was sleeping and found the wedding ring he had been hiding in his jacket. She used that to blackmail him once Enzie was on the way.”
At first, papà had been happy to spend time with mamma. But then, his wife came home and they had to stop seeing each other. A month later, mamma called him out of nowhere.
She was pregnant.
According to Bettie, this had never been papà’s plan. Mamma had promised him that she was being careful. But, as per usual, mamma lied.
Knowing the child was his, she had been able to get money from him, threatening to reveal his secret to his wife. In exchange, papà only asked for two things : being the one to name them, and being able to visit them whenever.
The money had been the reason why mamma would sometimes go out with them or make sure they had good enough clothes or even prevent any of them from dying. She had to pretend like she liked her children. She needed people to believe they were one happy family, or else someone could call child services and “take away her safest source of income”. And while papà visiting them wasn’t part of her plan, it still at least helped her hiding the reality of her parenting.
Bettie believed that papà felt bad for them. The reason why he visited wasn’t because mamma forced him to be there. Sometimes, he just wanted to see his children, make sure they were still alive and well.
This was no excuse.
Even with Enzie’s warryness, he had had dozens of chances to talk to them, to be there for them.
At any moment, he could have said the truth to his wife. Instead, he lied to her. He kept her in the dark and made sure she still loved him. He had children with her, children he took care of. Children he loved.
Children he had chosen the name of years before they were born. Names he made sure none of his “other kids” had.
As he was hearing the truth, Vinnie felt like his parents had just thrown one of their bottles on his body, the glass piercing through his chest. For the following hour after Bettie finished explaining, Vinnie had felt empty. He ended up lying in Bettie’s arms, completely frozen, completely unfazed by the world around him.
Enzie was right.
Enzie had always been right.
Their parents were dangerous. Their parents never loved them. Their parents couldn’t care any less about them.
There was no point trying to get their attention, trying to get their affection. They were heartless. They never had the space in their hearts for him.
Vinnie was an unwanted child. They all were.
They were children born from an affair. Used by their monstrous mother to get money from their unconcerned father.
Enzie had been right all along.
…
…
From now on, Vinnie would listen to Enzie. He would listen to everything his older brother says.
Unlike his parents, Enzie loved him. Enzie wanted what was best for him.
Enzie was the only parent he needed.
---------------
March 22, 2139
“It had been clear for a long time now that Ms. Claudia Drowssap and Mr. Pietro Dakota are not fit to take care of their biological children. However, the question of whether or not Mr. Enzo Dakota could take care of said children had yet to be answered. Today, we have chosen an answer to this question.
While we still remain uncertain of his abilities to provide for them, this court had been told that Mr. Dakota found job opportunities along with possible apartments in Napoli. Furthermore, it is painfully obvious that Mr. Dakota is incredibly attached to his siblings and had been their only anchor for most of their life. For their own well-being as well as his, we believe that separating the four of them is out of the question.
Thus, this court is ready to give its judgment. The custody of the present Bettina, Donatello and Vincenzo Dakota will be granted to their brother Mr. Enzo Dakota. Their parents, Ms. Claudia Drowssap and Mr. Pietro Dakota, will have to repair their inaptitude by paying child support for the next five years. Furthermore, Ms. Drowssap and Mr. Dakota Sr are not to be allowed to visit their children. Finally, they will not be able to keep any other child they may have in the future.
If Mr. Dakota Jr decides to file a claim for child abuse, more consequences might come their way.
This court is adjourned.”
Vinnie couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
They did it.
They really did it !
The banging of the gavel resonated across the room, announcing the end of this session. The end of their last session. Vinnie jumped out of his seat, seeing from the corner of his eyes that he wasn’t the only one. As soon as the way was cleared enough, Bettie and Donnie ran towards Enzie. The youngest sibling immediately followed suit.
They jumped into his arms, all smiles and laughs. Even after they pulled away, the happy chatter remained. Bettie congratulated Enzie excitedly while Donnie was holding onto her, pushing her back and forth. Vinnie himself was jumping in place, his fists shaking left and right in excitement.
They were finally free ! They could finally get away from mamma and papà !
After a few more moments of celebration, Enzie led the group outside. They had to go home and pack up. The oldest brother told them they would leave as soon as possible.
“ENZO !”
The siblings had barely finished walking down the stairs when they saw papà walking towards them. The man was walking fast, teeth gritted and fists clenched, looking at his oldest son with a murderous glare.
Enzie stood in front of his younger siblings, shielding them with his arms. Afraid, Vinnie went to hug Donnie. When papà was only a few steps away, the eight years-old closed his eyes. He heard the footsteps stop, followed by ruffling and a short grunt. Vinnie felt Donnie tense.
“Are you happy with yourself ?! Are you proud of what you did ?!”
Vinnie dared opening his eyes and almost gasped. Papà had grabbed Enzie by the collar.
“Because of you, I lost my wife ! I lost my home ! I might even lose my job ! All because YOU decided to get involved in MY business !”
“All I did was trying to survive !”, Enzie replied, returning papà’s glare. “I’ll never apologize for that.”
“YOU RUINED MY LIFE !”
“YOU RUINED YOUR OWN LIFE !”, Enzie pushed papà away from him. The older man raised a fist but didn’t hit his son. Instead, he looked as the younger trio protectively put their hands on Enzie.
“Go.”, Bettie spoke up with a shaking voice. “Leave us alone.”
“…”, papà’s glare was now directed at the four of them. “You are all nothing but a bunch of ungrateful bastards.”, he growled.
“What should we be grateful for ?”, Vinnie surprised himself by deciding to speak. He knew he shouldn’t. Papà was dangerous, he could clearly see it right now. Enzie had been right about that, just like for anything else. And Enzie had told him never to talk to papà again.
And yet, the child couldn’t stop the words from flowing out of his mouth.
“Have you ever done anything to us ?! Have you ever cared for us ?! DO YOU EVEN LOVE US ?!”
Vinnie felt tears stream down his cheeks. He started sobbing.
“Vinnie…”, Donnie murmured. The ten years-old held his younger sibling. “shhh. It’s okay.”, he soothed. “It’s okay to cry.”, Donnie let a hand gently run into Vinnie’s hair, copying the way their oldest brother comforted them. The youngest sibling leaned into the embrace, crying into Donnie’s shirt. When he tried opening his eyes, he noticed that papà was looking away, seemingly more upset than angry after what his son said.
Enzie was the one to break the silence.
“You’re dead to us.”, he spat. “Don’t ever try to see us again, or they’ll be consequences. And if you don’t keep paying for support, I’ll sue for the child neglect.”, he threatened. “If you think your life is already ruined, you’re not ready for the hell I’m ready to put you through if you ever DARE try anything against us.”
The two men glared at each other for what felt like forever. Enzie’s last words kept replaying in Vinnie’s head. He wondered with dread how serious his older brother was, how far he was willing to go for them.
Finally, after a painfully long silence, papà started to back away. He walked a certain distance, glared at his chil- at them one last time, and turned away.
Enzie snorted. “Come on.”, he told his siblings. “Let’s go home. We have a lot to do if we want to leave.”
The oldest brother started to walk away, soon followed by his sister. Donnie and Vinnie looked at each other as they pulled away from their hug, before finally following the older duo.
As he followed the group, Vinnie couldn’t help but look around him, look back at the older man.
From afar, the eight years-old noticed mamma. She was looking at the man as well.
Despite everything that had happened, she was smiling.
-------------------------
Note : Regarding Vinnie being trans, I’m well-aware that someone doesn’t “become” a boy, they’ve always been one. But since Vinnie is 5 when he realizes that he’s a man, the characters simplify it to “becoming a boy” so that Vinnie can understand easily.
Italian translations :
Mamma : mom
Papà : dad
Piccolina : little one (female)
Polpetto : meatball (apparently it’s a nickname for young kids/siblings)
Patatino : little potato (for some reason I love this nickname)
Ometto : little man (ometti is plural)
Piccino : tiny one
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Blond Janus Darkside Headcanons
I noticed how I haven't written down any info on the dark sides (Wrath, Apathy, Depression, Remus and pre-AA Virgil). More will be added.
Masterpost
Taglist:
@mother-snake, @writerstrashbin, @psychedelicships, @cryptidwriterdotcom (ask to be removed or added)
Wrath
Leader of the dark sides
Can induce a blind rage
When the rage is happening the recipient cannot control what they say or do and react simply on their first thought
The rage becomes stronger the more angry the person becomes
Wrath can't bring someone out of the rage. He can induce it but the person has to come out of it themselves
He has almost no control of Apathy because of that due to his lack of emotion
Likes to wear a partial suit. Finds that the coat is restricting and makes more complex movements hard
Still owns the coat. Just never wears it.
Symbol is tattooed on his left wrist
Orange and black color scheme. Like this:
Immediate reaction to almost anything is to yell.
Loves huge parties
If he's going to make a point, he makes it loud and clear. Often in front of other people so they can see what happens if you step out of line
Rules the dark sides more like a dictatorship then a family or of equel footing
Believes that they have to bend Thomas to their will and that the light sides are complete fools who will only destroy Thomas life
Wants Thomas to take what he wants and not to worry about who he leaves behind
If Thomas has to kill a politician to get what he wants? Sure go ahead. As long as he gets what he wants
When angry, Wrath is ruthless
He'll take your deepest fear and taunt you with it until you snap under the strain and comply to his every whim
He refuses to take no for an answer
Because of his hatred for the lights; he takes it out on Janus
He's big on public humiliation
If Janus would step out of line; well, he doesn't need all of those scales does he? He's sure Apathy would love to see the reactions if you rip some off
To aid in the control of the others; Wrath has complete control over the food supply
When the others are listening and followings orders. Good, they get to eat properly
When they don't? Your options are moldy bread or cheese that has been out in the open for about a month.
Him and Apathy eat like kings while the others decide between food poisoning and starvation
Likes to take words of affection and make them have a negative meaning (ex: the word Love.) after beating the hell out of someone, he would make them look directly in his eyes and says that he loves them... And he makes them say it back
He hates it when the others cry
Says that they're doing it for attention and that they should shut the fuck up
Apathy
Second in command
Can nullify peoples emotions. Leaving them feeling like an empty shell. The effects normally break after an hour
If Apathy knows your name he can control you like a puppet
White and black outfit. White shirt with black suspenders and pants.
Doesn't show where he keeps his symbol (its on his right ankle, its more like a tattoo then a patch)
Has a deep obsession with fire
Owns a zippo (a lighter that flips open)
Often feels empty due to his function. The fire makes him feel warm, feel more human (as human as the sides can be anyway)
Doesn't quite understand emotion. He understands the basics of it (cry = sad, laugh = hqppy, yell = angry.) but the more complex reactions confuse the hell out of him. Crying out of happiness is one of the things he will never understand.
Because of his lack of understanding of emotions; Apathy tries to understand through making others feel said emotions
Wants to know how someone would react when you break a precious item? Time to find a couple photos.
Will someone scream when you waterboard them? Hm well, only one way to test that.
Opinions change like a flip of a switch
One day he'll help you make dinner with a plastered on smile. The next he'll knock you out and burn you with his lighter with that same smile
Has only properly laughed twice
The first time was when Thomas accidentally laughed at someones funeral (he couldn't cope that the person was gone and his default reaction was to laugh)
The second was after the three of them (wrath, depression and him) shut off the heating to Janus' room and locked him inside
In order to understand things he doesn't know; he does experiments
He's not allowed to experiment on Wrath and Depression has no fun reactions. So he has his fun with Janus instead
Kinda likes it when blood stains his dress shirt
Because its warm. The warmth that once came from the person now belongs to him and it eases the cold empty feeling only slighty and temporary but its warm
He's indifferent on the lights. They're a little too perky for his tastes
Depression
Third in command
Doesn't really get a lot of say with decisions
Can erase certain memories (he doesn't use it very often)
Wears a medium blue dress shirt, brown leather suspenders with a black bowtie.
Normally keeps his sleeve rolled up
When crying; his eyes leak black
If the tears hit your skin, its a 10% chance that you could collapse and start spewing your insecurities while your eyes leak black
Symbol is on the back of his neck
Doesn't really mind not having the control that Apathy and Wrath have
Less work for him to do anyway
Couldn't care about the other twos blatant abuse of Janus
He sees it as a way to keep Janus in line
If Virgil wanted to play father figure he can go ahead. But that doesn't mean he has to be kind
Respects and looks up to Wrath
Normally just follows the lead of the others
He's the epitome of the duckling following the leader
Wrath has steak and potatoes for dinner? Depression also wants that too
Wrath says that they need to bend Thomas to their will? Well duh! Of course!
Wrath says that Janus has been out of line lately? Well why don't we break his leg again to show him a lesson
Most of the time, the food restrictions have no effect on him bc he listens to Wraths every word
Virgil
Was the second in command before he left
Opposed Wrath on his more extreme tactics
Has the ability to control shadows and others own Anxiety
Hated the dress code that Wrath insists on having. What kind of person wears suspenders and a dress shirt daily anyway?
Still wears the stupid things anyway because Wrath said to and he's not in the mood to get beat
Symbol is tattooed on underneath his shirt. The left side
After adopting Janus he lost his position as Wrath's right hand
Kinda pissed him off when he got demoted. Not bc of the loss of power. But bc he couldn't protect Janus as well
After adopting Janus he became the 4th in power (after Depression)
Remus
Is the epitome of don't give a shit
He has the power to conjure things and cause intrusive thoughts
Half the time he ignores the dress code completely
Typically opting for his normal clothes but does own a uniform as well
(if anyone has a better photo of this outfit pls pls pls DM me. I've looked through hundreds of photos and this is the best dark green dress shirt with suspenders I got)
Symbol is tattooed on the swell of his back
Gets practically no opinion on dealings or decisions with plans
Remus is a indifferent party. One moment he'll help you. The next he'll stab you in the back
He mostly just works with who can give him what he wants the fastest
He actually feels pity for Janus
Not like he'll ever act on that but he still feels a bit bad for the guy
Remus is kinda like that uncle at family get togethers that no-one talks to or cares about but he's always there
Janus
Oh boy, where to start?
Has the lowest rank out of every other side
His power (the ability to make people unable to talk) can only be used on the light side of the mind
He is also unable to heal immediately on the dark side
Meaning that he has to treat his wounds the old fashioned way
Doesn't really like the dress code
Only gets to wear his normal outfit when he's visting the light sides
Blond hair (wow! Really? Not like its the the name of the au!!)
His patch isn't a tattoo
This boi has the biggest fucking sweet tooth you could ever imagine
He is also so fucking short
His shoes have lifts to make him taller
He's cold blooded
When he gets focused, he bleps
This is turning fluffy-
He is literally covered head to toe in scars
Almost no skin was left untouched
Lying is a defense mechanism for him. He's deceit! He can lie his way out of anything!
Heavily disagrees on Wraths views
Thomas should get ahead, of course he should. But that shouldn't come at the price of someones life or the cost of his reputation
Hurting someone to get ahead in the short-term is only going to harm you in the long term
To hide the bruses, he applies thick layers of makeup and illusions if he's on the light side
Hasn't gotten a good sleep in years
He's terrified that someone will break into in bedroom while he's sleeping and finish him off
Or that they'll cut the heating again and he'll slowly freeze to death
Or that they'll drag him out of his room and chain him up somewhere to become nothing but a punching bag
He has agoraphobia (fear of open spaces)
Hasn't had positive touch since Virgil left
He has venom. Its very lethal and only activates when threatened
When angry, his eyes glow yellow and his canine teeth grow sharp and long that they stick out of his mouth slightly like fangs
Was meant to be a light side and function as Validity and Societal Self Preservation. But the dark sides found him first and brought him back with them
Virgil is his father figure
Doesn't really know how to feel after finding out that he's not a dark side
He does feel really really lied to and betrayed
But... Virgil is his dad. Virgil raised him
How could he be upset?
Writes down all of his thoughts and complaints in journals that he keeps in his room
He started writing journals when he was very young, so there is hundreds of them
Honestly doesn't know how to feel about him being a light side.
He's mad at Wrath. He knows that. But he can't do anything because his powers don't work on the dark side
He might as well be powerless.
When on the light side (so when all his powers work) his powers include: silencing others, the ability to repress sides/ make them unable to appear to Thomas and illusions.
His title is technically Validity with the added function of societal self preservation
Still goes by Deceit anyway
----
Has three brands burned onto him via Apathy
Is on his left ankle. Its his snake symbol. About the size of your fist
On his right bicep. The word "monster" in bolded writing. About two fingers in thickness.
Left chest, above his heart. The words "Property of the Dark Sides" in cursive text. The writing sits in a box.
All the brands are extremely painful for Janus if touched. Brand #3 is the brand he hates the most
His scales are more in patches then a perfect 50/50 split down his body
More will be added in the future.
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