#i am pretty sure i am riding that depression wave hard right now | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ttuesday · 3 years

Note

Hi! Could you do one where the fellers take care/react to a reader who has depression and is having a bad day/few days? Thank you! <3 <3 <3

I hope you get through this slump anon, honestly I’ve felt the same way too recently but I’m sure we’re both gonna get through this wave of bad days <3

Arthur

Arthur noticed your change in mood after the first day. He could tell something was off but he didn’t want to push you for answers. He had asked you if you were ok and you’d always reply saying you were fine, though that was an obvious lie.

After a few days and seeing no improvement in your mode, Arthur decides to push you a little more. This time after you said you were yet again ‘fine’, he sighs “You sure? You seem down lately”. He isn’t great with his words and scared of saying the wrong thing.

He knows that whenever he feels down that saying around camp can do more harm than good, so Arthur suggests you go stake out Cornwall’s factory with him for a mission. Nothing much happens but giving your mind something else to focus on certainly helps.

If you do decide to tell Arthur about how you’re feeling, he stays quiet and nods along to everything you say. Even if you only tell him a small bit, he feels honoured that you trust him enough to say it and he makes sure you know that no matter what, he’s always going to be there for you.

Charles

Charles could tell from your demeanour that something wasn’t right. It’s the little things Charles picked up on, like how you now had to force a smile more often or how you always seemed distracted during conversations.

Charles overheard a few of the others asking if you were ok and you always gave the same answer so he didn’t bother asking you that question again. Instead he asks if you’ll go hunting with him. He tells you how he needed an extra pair of hands acts totally casual .

After a nice ride through the forest and some relaxed conversation, Charles leads you through to a small opening where he apparently saw some deer. He hopes being out in nature and away from everyone will help your mind relax.

He doesn’t push you to talk about how you feel, Charles just wants you to have a good time and to have a genuine smile on your face. If you want to talk about your feelings then Charles is happy to listen and try to come up with solutions but ultimately he just wants you to have a good day.

Dutch

It took Dutch a few days to fully realise you were feeling down but he does notice it eventually. First he just presumed that you were feeling down because a job didn’t go to plan but he got worried when you’re mood didn’t seem to lighten.

His first approach to trying to cheer you up is by giving you materialistic goods. Dutch surprises you by giving you a shiny new pocket watch he just so happened to ‘find’ somewhere and he even gives you some money form the donations box and tells you to buy yourself something nice.

But Dutch can see that his plan didn’t work. Sure materialistic items are nice but they didn’t change how you were feeling. It’s times like this Dutch is happy he has Hosea to give him some advice on how to help you.

While the gang is distracted serving up dinner, Dutch pulls you aside and says “I know you haven’t been yourself lately and I know I can’t make you talk to me but if you ever feel like chatting, I’m always here for you”. He doesn’t want you to feel forced into talking but Dutch wants to make sure you know he’s there.

Micah

Micah knows this sounds kinda creepy but he likes to keep an eye on you when you’re in camp. So because of this, it’s actually pretty obvious to him when your mood changes.

When he tries to get you to open up first, he’s very abrupt and straight out asks you what’s wrong with you. But when he realises this method only pushes you further away from him, he attempts to take a more relaxed and calm approach.

When he sees you’ve trailed off by the edge of camp, Micah follows you out with two glasses and a bottle of whiskey. He’s always found it easier to talk when he’s had a drink and he’s hoping you’ll feel the same.

He doesn’t expect you to tell him all about how you feel but if being there and occasionally annoying you works as a distraction from that dreadful feeling, then he’s happy to do that. He wants you to feel like you can tell him things like this, even though he understands he ain’t the most trustworthy person out there.

John

John can be kinda awkward at times and sure, he doesn’t know how to have those deep emotional conversations but he cares about you and genuinely wants the best for you.

He tries to be subtle about it and says little comments every now and again like “Well you know where I am if you wanna talk” or he’ll compliment you throughout the day, just to make sure you know how great you are as a person.

But when he sees you’re not feeling any better, he starts to worry. On the outside it’s easy to see John as someone who doesn’t notice the change within you but the truth is John sees it but he’s scared that if he brings it up, he’ll accidentally make it worse.

In the end, John goes with what he feels in the moment. Seeing the sad, drained look on your face, John’s almost sure his heart is breaking. Sighing, he holds out his arms and says “C’mere”. John hugs your for as long as you need, not daring to let go first. Sometimes you’d be surprised how great a hug can be.

Javier

Javier likes seeing your smile. It’s the one thing that’s guaranteed to make his day better. One of his favourite things in the world is making you smile, especially since it gives him that butterfly feeling in his stomach. So he’s recognises when your smile seems too forced or as though you’re smiling without genuinely feeling happy.

Javier sits with you and reminisces about old memories, hoping stories of goofy robberies that somehow didn’t get ye killed would make you smile. And it works! …but only for a little while.

Javier knows that this feeling comes and goes, and that sometimes it can seem like it’s in the background of your mind for weeks. When he first left Mexico, he had strong feelings like this too so he knows how each day can differ and how the feeling fluctuates.

But Javier tells you he’ll be by your side for all of it. He wants to be the shoulder you cry on and for the nights that seem long and dark, he’s there. He lets you rest your head on his lap and Javier hums a few songs as he runs his fingers through your hair.

Bill

We all know what Bill is like. It can take him a while to understand how you feel but the main thing is he tries to help in whatever way he can. At first he thinks that you just feel sad over something. He doesn’t think it’s a big deal and Bill just thinks the feeling will fade in a few days. But it doesn’t.

Something that always helps Bill destress and forget about life’s problems for a while is playing with Cain. He’s convinced that dog has superpowers cause Bill’s in a good mood whenever Cain comes around. One day when Cain comes over to Bill for some belly rubs, Bill gets you to join in too.

You spend the rest of the afternoon with the two of them, using Bill’s bandana to play tug of war with Cain and laughing when Cain flops down on Bill, tired from all the games.

As ye relax, Bill distracts you some more by telling you a few stories, like when he drunkenly mistook a cow for his horse. Bill doesn’t care if he has to tell you a thousand stories and pet a thousand dogs with you, if it’ll make you smile again then he’s willing to do it.

Sean

Sean wants to be the most helpful person ever. He wants to be there for you through it all, holding your hand each step on the way. Seriously, when Sean sees the shift in your mood and notices you aren’t your usual self then he holds on to your hand and doesn’t plan on letting go anytime soon.

Anytime you want to talk, Sean has no problem stopping whatever he’s doing and giving you his undivided attention. You’re so goddamn special to him and he’s scared of losing you, so he puts 110% into making you feel more comfortable in yourself.

Whenever Sean hears about a robbery or sets up a job, he always brings you along, whether you wanna go or not. He doesn’t think staying around camp all the time is good for you so whenever he goes out, he drags you out with him for a change of scenery

Does Sean know what he’s doing or if he’s helping you overcome this? No, he’s just winging it but this man will literally do anything if it means getting you out of this slump.

Hosea

This is Hosea, of course he notices when you become more reclusive and depressed. Hosea’s a strong believer in love and support helping people get through anything, and so that’s what he gives you.

It doesn’t matter where ye are, what time of day it is or if you’re in the middle of a shootout, if you need Hosea then he’s there to reassure you and tell you everything’s going to be alright.

He understands how it can be hard to talk about things like this and how sometimes it feels like you can’t put your emotions into the right words. If you try to talk about how you feel but start to get upset, then Hosea stops you and instead suggests you just sit with him for a while and wait for the feeling to pass.

He never tries to pressure you into talking and if anyone gets pissed off cause you’re not ‘pulling your weight’ around camp then Hosea becomes absolutely furious with them, unholstering his gun making sure the person knows they’re a fool for saying such a thing.

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sunmoonandeddie · 4 years

Text

saturdays

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3,467

summary: Bucky Barnes has a new routine.

warnings: Some swearing

a/n: This was my March 2020 one shot for my Patreon that they received early access to. Let me know what y’all think!

Bucky Barnes has a new routine.

Sundays are for sleeping in before eventually making his way to Brooklyn, where he picks up three bouquets and an egg, bacon, and cheese breakfast sandwich from Sal’s bodega before going to the cemetery. He sits against his sister’s tombstone—his parents’ to his right—and eats his late breakfast. He sits and talks for a few hours before leaving the flowers on their graves. He always has to have peonies, since those were Becca’s favorites.

Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays are for training. He wakes up at five in the morning to go running with Sam, something he thought would end when Steve went back to be with Peggy Carter. But he wasn’t bitter. No.

But which thing he wasn’t bitter about, he’d never tell.

Along with the run, he spends most of the day sparring and battling simulations in the gym. He has short breaks for meals, but he pretty much is on go until after dinner, when he goes straight to bed.

But Fridays are his favorite. Because he gets to sleep in until nine-thirty in the morning, which is a luxury he’s not used to. Then Sam and him grab a late breakfast together before Bucky goes into the city for his therapy session.

And Bucky likes his therapist! Which he was really, really surprised about! But Marlene is good. Marlene is good because she doesn’t placate him. She calls him out on his shit, and pushes him forward. Because if it had been up to him, he would’ve stopped seeing her after their third meeting, when she had him drawing with fucking crayons that snapped in his hand way too easily. But it’s been over a year since he started seeing her, and even though he still has his bad days, his bad days now would’ve been his best days before.

“So, you think you’re finally ready to go through Rebecca’s things?” Marlene asks, looking at him with a peaceful expression.

“I don’t think so, I am,” he says firmly, feeling a rush of triumph as a smile spreads across her lips. “It’s time, you know?”

She nods in understanding, humming. “Do you have someone going with you?”

Usually, Sam would go with him for things like this, and just in general. They were attached at the hip, especially after the whole Steve leaving thing.

Yeah, they were both hit pretty hard with that.

“Yes, but I…” He sighs, rubbing his hands on his jeans. “I think this is something I need to do alone. At least, the going through her stuff part… But he is going with me to move the stuff to the Tower.”

“Good, good,” she says, her brows slightly furrowed. “And how are you feeling today about Steve leaving?”

Bucky lets out a huff of air, taking a moment to think about it. “To be completely honest with you… I’m kind of over it today. I have other things to do and yeah, I would’ve liked him to be here for it, but that’s not how it is. And him leaving is more about him than it is about me.” He shrugs, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Just because he decided to go back doesn’t mean he wanted to leave me.”

Marlene sets her clipboard to the side, a warm smile on her face. “Well, Bucky, I think we’ll end today on that thought.” She stands up, offering her hand for him to shake as she does everyday. “You’ve done well today. You should be proud of yourself.”

He leaves with a wave and a “See you next week!” as he always does.

He hadn’t known about the storage unit full of his sister’s stuff until about eight months ago, when he asked Maria Hill if there was anything left of hers. He knew that SHIELD had been the ones to take control of her assets when she had no children, since she was the sister of a Howling Commando and the best friend of Captain America.

Becca had died in December of 2013. He’d missed her by less than six months.

It was heartbreaking when he first found out, and still is, if he was being honest. But at least he has her stuff to go through, even though he has no idea what all is going to be in the storage unit. Stevie hadn’t had anything other than what the Smithsonian had snatched up.

The car ride to the storage facility is quiet, Sam at the wheel. Bucky still hasn’t gotten his license, since he doesn’t see a point. Why should he when there’s the subway and Uber and even just good old fashioned walking? “You’ve gotta save the Earth, Sam,” he says when he really feels like irritating the other man.

“You sure you’re ready for this, man?” Sam asks as they stand in front of storage unit 429.

“Yeah,” Buck says, punching in the key code and lifting up the door. “Yeah, I’m ready.” He flips the light switch on the wall, and is shocked by just how much stuff there is. There’s boxes upon boxes upon boxes.

Sam’s hands go to his hips as he looks at it, whistling. “Alright. Let’s get it loaded.”

It takes several hours and three trips to get everything from the storage unit to the Tower, and by the end of it, the both of them just collapse on the couch with a couple of beers and a pizza to share between them.

But Saturday morning comes bright and early, and even though it’s his only day out of the week where he has absolutely nothing to do, Bucky knows he has to start going through her things.

The first four boxes are just clothes. Clothes upon clothes upon clothes. He finds a baby blue dress that she used to wear for church, starched to perfection, and he holds it to his chest for a long time. He cries then.

And he knows that the fact that she’s hoarded so many clothes has a lot to do from growing up during the Depression. He still finds himself falling into old habits of checking the price of food, despite the fact that he never has to worry about money again with his Avengers salary and the backpay from being a POW.

He finds his parents’ wedding rings, and the string of pearls his ma wore for special occasions.

And then he finds an old shoe box, and when he opens it up, he finds letters. Letters upon letters upon letters. They’re in bundles, tied together with fraying ribbon. The paper is yellowed and soft from being folded and unfolded so many times, and he can see the looping black letters that covered the pages.

He takes the ones that look the oldest and unties them, he takes the top one from the stack and sets the rest to the side, before carefully unfolding it.

“Ruthie,” he says quietly as he reads the name at the bottom, not even bothering to read it yet. “Ruthie…” His eyes pop open as he suddenly remembers, remembers receiving letters everyday from a girl in the Bronx. They were never romantic, but it was nice being able to write to someone and not having to hide how bad it was, like he had to with his ma and Becca. She even sent her picture once, so he could know who he was writing to. “Ruthie!”

He spends the rest of the day reading the letters, and passes out sometime around four in the morning with his face on a letter. He takes the letters with him to his family’s graves the next day, reading to them after he replaces the flowers.

It takes him two more days to finish reading all the letters, in between breaks while training and staying up until he absolutely can’t.

He cries a lot while he reads it. He’s not afraid to admit that. But it’s nice to remember that he had a friend to listen to him during one of the worst times of his life.

Bucky’s almost afraid to look her up, to find out if she was still alive, and if he could go see her, to thank her. They wrote back and forth until the day he fell off the train, and he knows that had to be pretty jarring for her.

But then Sam finds out about the letters—it would be hard for him not to, considering that he was walking around with his nose in the letters for days—and it’s all over.

Turns out, she’s alive. She’s alive, and she’s still in Queens.

He goes the next Saturday, taking his bike all the way to the other borough. He looks a little intimidating and extremely different from how he looked back then, but he hopes she recognizes him. He really, really hopes she recognizes him, because otherwise this’ll be real awkward.

He stands in front of the door for a long time, taking his hands in and out of his pockets about eight times before he finally reaches up and knocks.

And then the door opens, and there’s Ruthie.

Well, not Ruthie, though at first glance, you’re the perfect picture of her. You’ve got her hair and her eyes, and the curve of her lips. But the nose is different.

“Can I help you?” You ask, raising your eyebrows at him. You’re wiping your hand on a hand towel, peering at him like you recognize him from somewhere but you don’t know where.

“Hi, uh,” he says slowly. His throat is suddenly so dry that he can barely talk. “I’m Bucky. Bucky Barnes. I was pen pals with—”

He’s cut off by Ruthie herself appearing in the doorway. She’s much older—she is ninety-nine, after all—but it’s definitely her. “Did you say Bucky Barnes?” The little old lady’s eyes widened as she saw him, her hand over her heart. “Oh, my stars, it’s really you. I heard about what happened to you, and I…” She shakes her head, clicking her tongue. “Why, it almost gave me a heart attack, you know.”

“Little Ruthie Pratt from Queens,” he says, reaching in his pocket and holding up the letters. “I found these while, uh, going through my sister’s stuff.”

“I still have mine!” Ruthie says, pulling him inside.

It’s nice and homey and everything that Bucky had thought it would be. The front foyer is covered in photos, and there’s quite a few of you. You’re clearly one of Ruthie’s pride and joys, if the sheer amount of them has anything to do about it.

“I used to read these to my grandbaby here,” Ruthie says as she comes back with an old oak jewelry box in hand. “Anytime she stayed the night—her parents worked a lot when she was growing up—she always asked me to read her one of my ‘Bucky letters.’”

“Grandmama,” you say, cheeks flushing as you avoid his eyes.

“It was so cute! She used to recite them word for word along with me!” Ruthie teases as they go to the living room.

It’s quaint, with soft pastel colors dominating the room. He sits on a floral sofa that’s got a circle with dark hair on it, the marking of a furry friend’s favorite spot. He watches as you move to the kitchen, grabbing a pitcher of what looks like tea and a few glasses.

You sit beside her with the ease of knowing that you belong here, pouring yourself a glass. “Grandmama, do you want some tea?”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes as she opens the box and looks for the oldest one. “You keep that monstrosity away from me,” she says. Seemingly remembering Bucky’s presence, she says, “My daughter’s husband is from Louisiana. Ridiculous man got both her and my grandbaby addicted to that absolute sludge.”

The secret smile you give him as the two of you listen to her tirade about sweet tea makes him feel at ease, and sets the tone for the rest of the afternoon.

Things go on as normal, or as normal as they can.

And Marlene happens to think that all of this is absolutely fantastic for him. She loves that he’s now spending time with Ruthie and you, reconnecting with his past while understanding that he doesn’t have to be the person he was in the letters.

He’s different. He’s not the Bucky that Ruthie knew back then.

It’s an unusually warm day in November four months later when he takes you out for a coffee, just the two of you. And it isn’t a date—really, it isn’t—but he finds himself wanting it to be about halfway through his second coffee.

And that’s why he starts talking about dating to Marlene, who had, quite frankly, been waiting for him to realize his feelings for a while.

“I think I’m in love with her,” he says as he storms into his therapy session, eyes wild and hair a disarray. He’s clearly been worrying real hard about it.

Marlene looks up at him, peering over the silver rim of her glasses. “Oh, really?” She says nonchalantly, as though she doesn’t have you in her notes about him. “And why is that?”

Bucky can’t help the frown on his face as he realizes that she didn’t even ask who he was talking about, because she knew. “I… I don’t know,” he says, slumping into his usual chair. “She makes me happy. Happier than I’ve ever been. And she always makes me laugh, even at the most inappropriate of times.” His gaze softens the more he thinks about you. “And she isn’t scared of me. She doesn’t judge me. She’s read about everything I did in the war, even before HYDRA, and she doesn’t care.” His hands are sweating as he rubs them together. “Actually, it’s not that she doesn’t care—she does care—but she cares because she… she loves me.”

You love him. And sure, he knows that. You’ve said that you love him multiple times, even if you only mean it as a friend way.

But the thought that he has someone who loves him that doesn’t have to is… groundbreaking.

“She loves me, and she wants me to be okay,” he says, looking up at Marlene then.

His therapist has a pleased look in her eyes, even if she won’t let it show with a smile. “I think she’s good for you,” she says simply, her pen held loosely in her hand. “Are you seeing her again soon?”

“I’m seeing her tomorrow night,” he says, his heart growing light. “We’re grabbing a few drinks to celebrate her finally graduating from cosmetology school.”

It’s a big deal for you, completely something. You’re smart, there’s no denying that, but when it comes to schooling… You’d done well in high school, but college proved to be the bane of your existence.

You’d dropped out in the middle of your junior year, and that had been it. You’d moved to Queens to live with Ruthie after, working various low level jobs and trying to find something that fit.

But you’d fit in at cosmetology school. Hell, you excelled. And you enjoyed it! You enjoyed waking up in the morning and going to your classes!

You cried when you got your certificate, and it was now framed in Ruthie’s house until you start your first salon job in two weeks.

“Are you going to tell her about your feelings?” Marlene asks curiously.

Now that makes him pause.

“... Should I?” Bucky asks, feeling a wave of anxiety coming over him. “What if she doesn’t feel the same way? And she sees me as just a friend?”

“If she’s really your friend, she won’t abandon you just because you tell her you have romantic feelings for her.”

“You sure about that?”

Marlene fixes him with a look, raising one perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

He runs his tongue over his teeth. “Fine. You’re sure,” he says, slumping a little in his chair. “Doesn’t mean it’s easy.”

She snorts, making a note on her pad. “I never said it was going to be easy, Bucky. Doesn’t mean it can’t be done.”

The next night, he spends an hour and a half trying to decide what to wear. “It shouldn’t be this hard,” he grumbles as he switches shirts for the forty-ninth time. “It’s just drinks.”

Sam, however, is having a great time watching his new best friend freak out over seeing a girl for the first time. “I mean, she already agreed to going out with your ugly mug, man. It’s not gonna matter what you wear.”

And in some way, that helps. A little.

But he does have to threaten Sam with bodily harm if he spies on his date that’s not really a date.

He almost boxes him the ear when he insists for the fourth time that it’s a date.

He shows up at your door with a bouquet of flowers from Sal’s bodega, the buttons of his dark blue henley left open, exposing a smattering of chest hair.

When you open the door, the air is knocked from his lungs. You look absolutely radiant. The light from the sinking sun is giving you a halo-like glow, and he’s sure, not for the first time, that you’re an actual angel.

“Hi,” you say, a flush on your cheeks as you see the flowers. “Are those… Are those for me?”

He nods dumbly, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat. “Y-Yes,” he says, pushing them into your arms. “As a congrats. For, you know, graduating. And stuff.”

“Thank you,” you say as you take them, handing them to Ruthie.

She’s standing just inside the door, a giddy look on her face as she holds the flowers, watching you take the motorcycle helmet from his hands. “Have her back by twelve!”

“Grandmama!”

“Fine! Twelve-thirty!”

You’re clearly embarrassed by her antics as he helps you on behind him, guiding your arms around his waist.

“You ready?” He asks, his voice breathy.

A shiver runs down your spine as you nod, wrapping your arms tighter around him as he starts the bike, taking off.

“She doesn’t actually mean that,” you say as he leads you into the tiny, out of the way bar. You’re fixing your hair, trying your best to appear presentable. “I’m grown, you know. I don’t… I don’t have a curfew.”

A slow smile spreads over his lips as he listens to you ramble. “I know,” he says finally, figuring he should put you out of your misery. “Ruthie does like to tease those she loves.”

The bar is quaint, clearly a local place that tourists haven’t invaded. He leads you to a high table, calling out your order to the lone bartender.

“So, I—”

“I like you,” Bucky says, unintentionally cutting you off with a wince. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt you, but I really, really like you, and I really, really want this to be a date, but if you don’t feel the same way then I completely understand and we can just forget that I ever said anything and everything can just go back to normal and that might be the best thing because, quite frankly, I haven’t dated since the forties and I have no idea how dating is supposed to work nowadays, but I’d really like to try it with you but only if you—”

His rambling is cut off as you place your hand on his, intertwining your fingers. “Okay,” you say, like it’s the easiest thing ever. “It’s a date.”

He stares at you for an embarrassingly long time, his mouth dry. “Uh… What?” He says quietly. His heart is pounding at an unnaturally fast pace, and he honestly thinks he might be on the verge of a heart attack.

“I like you, too,” you say, smiling at the bartender as he brings you over your drinks. You look so beautiful, your eyes the brightest thing in the dim lighting of the bar. “So this is a date.”

“Okay,” he breathes out, a wave of relief washing over him. “It’s a date.”

He’s a little starstruck as you continue on with what you were going to say before, a pink blush dusting his cheeks. Your hand stays in his for the rest of the night, occasionally giving a little squeeze as though you’re reminding him that you’re still there and you’re not going to disappear.

And it feels good.

And okay, Marlene may have been right.

And yeah, Fridays might be good. But as he sits there with you until the late hours of the night, he’s sure: Saturdays are his new favorite day. Because Saturdays brought him a new beginning when he wasn’t expecting it.

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n

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whump-town · 3 years

Text

The Blood That Haunts Me

post-scratch fic

no pairings

Hotch has a bad heart

word count 6k

In Savannah Hayes’ experience, Saturday’s are typically for parents with screaming toddlers looking for emergency medicine to soothe their fears about whatever toy their child has shoved up their nose or to ask an aged nurse what to do with this croup that just won’t go away. It’s scrapes and bruises from a fender bender with kids just learning to drive and roughly two to three broken arms from seven-year-olds learning to ride a bike without training wheels. With any luck, there will be only one underage kid in a banana bag and the college kids will be in and out for stitches and gone as quickly as they come. There’s always the regulars - older men and women that buzz with the opportunity to be out of their houses even if it’s to withstand the pain of stitches and staples on their thin skin.

Rarely has Savannah faced a Saturday where she knew someone being pulled into her emergency room. Virginia isn’t the biggest place but her friends are young and healthy and Saturdays are for squirmy children and stupid teenagers. When she sees him with his ankles stretched out over the end of the stretcher and a large hand weakly fighting with the paramedic to hold the oxygen mask over her face she’s certain of his identity. She’s good with faces and his is unmistakable.

“You shouldn’t be on break yet, baby.” Derek picks up on the first ring, the sound of Hank babbling loudly in the background making him chuckle deeply as he moves. The phone pinched between his shoulder and cheek, she can hear him pick up their son. Talking back to the baby.

Savannah is sitting in the emergency room, camped out behind the desk as she catalogs patient information. Despite it being a Saturday, the hospital is startlingly pretty timid (knock on wood). When there is a new patient the clatter is noticed. So when Hotch came in, supine but weakly fighting against the oxygen mask pulled down over his mouth, Savannah noticed. Even drugged and combative, he’s distinctly himself.

And as Savannah tells Derek, describes the man she’s quite fond of, he doesn’t believe her. Hotch doesn’t go to the hospital and no one’s heard from him in forever, he’s probably not even in Virginia. Garcia said Jack started high school last fall and if they were home and situated again with no contact then… Well, what are they supposed to do? “Derek--” Savannah can hear the pitch change in his voice. Derek goes from dismissive to genuinely worried and now pulling at strings because no one has talked to Hotch in months (nearly two years) and the idea of seeing him now is terrifying. “I am positive that it’s Hotch.” She leans around the monitor, frowning as she watches some nurses she knows buzz around him. Throwing out words she can’t make out entirely but she can see what they’re doing and it makes her heart jump a little to hear medications that they put orders out for.

Hotch makes a noise - it has to be loud for her to hear it from the distance she’s at. “Baby,” she stands and it makes her heart do a weird clenching thing when she catches a glimpse at his face. Sees that he’s crying and clearly upset. “Derek, he’s getting all kinds of agitated. I’m gonna call you back in a second, okay?” She doesn’t wait for an answer and tosses her phone down on her chair before calling out for one of the nurses she recognizes with a wave.

The nurse smiles when she sees Savannah - she’s got a particular gift with patients like Hotch.

“I know this one,” Savannah says, approaching the bed. “What have you got?”

Savannah doesn’t have all the details on the accident that occurred in 2009 with George Foyet. It’s not Derek’s story to tell and it’s not exactly the easiest one to bring into conversation. She’s aware of vague things like his collapse a few years later from scar tissue that caused him to bleed internally and that Hotch's ex-wife was killed by a serial killer. Mostly, she knows that Hotch is dependable and secure and that when he went into witness protection nearly two years ago his absence had crushed them all. Even if the likes of Emily Prentiss and her just as stubborn as hell husband would never admit it.

“Mild tachycardia and respiratory depression -” The nurse tells her about Hotch’s underactive thyroid, something he’s supposed to take medication for ever since the stabbing damaged the organs function. How it’s throwing his heart into tachycardia and it’s getting worse, not responding to medicine yet.

Savannah may not know what happened with George Foyet but she knows Derek regards Hotch as this infallible wall of a man. One she’s come to understand he thinks can’t ever fall down and one that, despite how fondly he’ll speak about him, annoys the hell out of him. Personally, Savannah thinks Aaron Hotchner is just a sweet man. She likes him and his little quirks. He’s quite the odd pairing when he gets together with Emily and Dave but they’re a funny crowd.

What she isn’t expecting is the mess of scars littering his chest. Experience allows her to date some of them by sight - their distinct shape and coloration clustering them into the same time frame and she can’t imagine how someone gets over half a dozen wounds like that at once. They don’t end there. On his right side, there’s a nearly faded out of existence scar from a chest tube. A puncture wound- something blunt she’d assumed by way of its roundness. Even a few rougher-looking, jagged scars that she assumes are shrapnel because Derek has nearly identical ones.

Savannah is a few moments too late to prevent Hotch from being pulled down by a sedative but he’s fighting it, blinking slowly to try and remain awake. “Hey,” she greets softly, turning his wrist over so she can see IV sight in his elbow. It’s secure and there’s nothing special to note but it’s going to bruise. “Long time no see Agent Hotchner.” She squeezes his fingers, smiling at the recognition behind his eyes even if his lips only form a silent mouthed version of her name.

With a smile - remembering the first time they met and how gently he’d taken her hand before shaking his head and admonishing “everyone calls me Hotch” - she reaches down and fixes his hair. He’s let it grow out since he left the BAU. Derek had been livid when he got word that Hotch wasn’t coming back despite the fact that he too left the unit. “How are you feeling, Hotch? Can I call someone?”

His eyes slide shut and for a moment she thinks he’s given in, sunk down low where his pain and his ailments can’t get him. He taps a finger against her palm and she understands he’s still here. “Morgan?” he rasps.

She nods, “Derek already knows you’re here. I imagine he’ll have the whole crew here in no time.” He grimaces, cracking an eye open to give her a look she understands entirely. She’s only ever faced their smothering worry once when Hank was born but she knows it’s a lot. It’s hard to imagine they’re going to somehow be less present and attuned with him than they with her. He’s not looking forward to that and it’s understandable. “Don’t worry,” she promises, “I’ll have your back when they get here.”

He nods, dull eyes sinking back under his eyelids. She holds his hand until she’s certain he’s fallen asleep.

“So,” the nurse asks softly. She moves and tubes and wires around so that they’re not laying against his bare skin. Folding the blankets over Hotch’s hips and leaving his chest bare. He’s still tachycardic, breathing laboriously through inflamed lungs. “How do you know this guy?”

Savannah sits down on the edge of the bed, taking Hotch’s hand into her own. Working her thumb in gentle, hypnotic motions between his knuckles and smiling sadly at the relieved rasping sigh that leaves his parted pale lips. “Family,” she answers because she’s not sure what the answer really is but in some way… yeah, family.

The nurse nods, going about what needs to be done while Savannah stays on the edge of the bed. She does what she can until she clears her throat. “Hey,” the nurse smiles, sympathetic to the soft faraway look in Savannah’s eyes. “Doctor Hamilton admitted him so I need to take him up to the--”

Savannah stands immediately, nodding. “Yeah,” she lays his hand back down on his chest. Stepping away from the bed, “sorry.” She shakes her head, stepping back as the brakes come up and he’s set into motion. “Second floor?” Savannah assumes.

The nurse nods, “he’ll be in room one seventeen. I’ll let the desk know he’s one of yours.”

Savannah watches him disappear down the hall, met at the mouth of the hall by other nurses and staff nodding as they take him to the right floor. She’d been there long enough to see his heart monitor and to identify the ventricular tachycardia plaguing him. He’ll likely need a pacemaker and she’s already racing to a solution. He’ll need to be monitored after surgery but can go home. Hank’s a little too small still but they have the guest room. If Derek cleans up the mess he lets Hank make in there--

Savannah’s heart sinks to the floor and she turns around. Hit with the sudden memory of the last event she saw Hotch at and remembers slowly that Hotch has a son and someone needs to find him.

All morning something had been off, Hotch didn’t have to say it for Jack to know. The oatmeal was made oddly, Hotch’s hands trembling so much he’d gotten the measurements wrong. Too much brown sugar but Jack hadn’t seemed to mind it being too sweet. He’d been distracted by his oatmeal and unalarmed by signs he hasn’t learned to be aware of. If Hotch had gotten up late or made breakfast and then laid down on the couch then Jack would have noticed. Bad days come frequently and like most storms look and sound distinct.

High anxiety days are an early rise, the sound of lights being turned on and off as Hotch fails to get comfortable in any room. Coming out of his room and finding his father curled up on the couch. His knees drawn up and a pillow pressed into his chest, a heated blanket wrapped around him like a cocoon. It’s lightly tiptoeing around the house so Hotch stays asleep and avoids him once he does move and allows his aching back to stretch out. Jack knows to keep his music down and to call Jessica if Hotch locks himself away.

Though time has dampened it’s severity it’s not impossible to find his father trying to work through untreated PTSD or ride out an intense wave of depression. Leaving him immobile or desperate for a distraction. Jack knows those things. He understands them and, like the blasting siren that screams out before a tornado, Jack knows when to duck for cover and ride out the storm.

But Jack had no idea what a heart attack would look like. What to expect or even if a heart attack had been what he’d seen.

Hands over his ears, Jack Hotchner sinks into the emotionless walls surrounding him. Trying to find the place past his body where everything ceases to exist. Insistently, against his will, he’s pulled back to a decade ago. To the sound of gunshots tearing through the only home he’d ever known. To Emily wiping his tears away with the palm of her hand, their backs to the carnage his father created in the fall. To a hospital not unlike this one where his father was patched up - open wounds covered and drugs numbing his rough edges - until Jack had finally been able to see him. The feeling of his father’s chest, broad and forever, solid as he’d curled his legs into his lap. His father cried softly as he explained what happened, what he’d done.

“Mommy isn’t coming home, buddy.”

Pinching his eyes shut, Jack rocks himself back and forth. He can’t go there. Not alone. He can’t go back to Foyet. He’s too old for those silly games. Too old for nightmares and monsters hiding under his bed. Unaware of the ones still crawling out of his father’s closet, wrapping their cold fingers around his ankle and threatening to pull him into the darkness with them.

You’re never too old for monsters.

Spencer had found the time to confide in Jack about being raised by a mentally ill single mother. His intent was to demonstrate to Jack that not only did he understand the pre-teens intense fury with his father but that the emotions would abate and Jack would have only a few moments to decide what to do next. How Spencer had turned eighteen and had to have his mother committed to an institution. A decision that haunted him but that he ultimately understood it was simply the only option. One day, Spencer clarified, Jack would understand the way his father worked.

Until that moment, Jack had been more or less paying attention. When it came to all things Uncle Spence, Jack typically has a longer attention span and all the patience in the world but the moment Jack realizes this was a one-on-one sort of deal he was done. He wanted out. But Reid stuttered. That one day, and the words had come out so quickly if he’d had a chance Reid would have stopped them, Jack would realize just what that meant. He’d look at his father and all the magic of his childish love would fall away and Jack would be left with his father’s bare bones. And it would be terrifying but, often, that’s all love is: all the bits bleached down to their true forms.

He gets it now, okay? The nutty academic parent with bouts of deep depression, an obsession with their jobs, and no idea how to say I love you like everyone else. He gets the comparison now. Can he be done? He wants to go home. He’s done learning this stupid lesson about love or whatever bullshit this is supposed to represent. When does it end? It’s going to end, right?

Derek Morgan falters in the doorway, stalled like an engine as he stands at the edge of the messy room. Hank hums in Derek’s left ear, bouncing his foot against Derek’s hip as he stands stationary and trying to wrap his head around everything happening. It’s overwhelming. Derek hasn’t seen Hotch in two years and if the sight of him alone - laid out right here - doesn’t bring its own intense wave of anger and longing then the sight of his uncovered chest is it’s own thing as well.

Hotch is on the bed, curled slightly to his right with the blankets leaving his pale chilled skin open. Even with his face turned into the pillow behind his head, he looks deathly pale in comparison to the white bedspread. Entirely too limp, too still as he lays there pulling in breaths audible over the hiss of the canal running under his nose. Nearly drowned out, consumed by the natural hums of the hospital and constant motion of the monitors to his left and the dissatisfied beep of the blood-pressure cuff around his right arm.

Savannah warned him of what he’d find once he got inside in case she got called away to a patient when he got there. She told him the buzz around the staff, what Hotch’s cardiologist thought and it stung to hear her warn him ahead of time what Hotch looked like, worse, she imagined, than what Derek was imaging. Weaker, she’d said as if the word was some sort of betrayal. He’s weak and Derek can’t push him and he’d wanted to advocate for himself but he couldn’t.

With tears in his eyes, he’d promised to be on his best behavior and Derek realized just how awful he and Hotch could be towards one another. How everyone sees it. He’d wondered if… Well, if Hotch hated him for it. They’d been close once. Partners. Haley used to joke she half expected he’d steal Aaron away from her. That old joke used to make Jason laugh so hard, the two of them together were the cause of all his worry and stress. Now…

Well, now Derek is standing in a room that can’t be more than a 120-foot space with far too much equipment in it feeling like he’s never been so far away from Hotch. So disconnected.

Hotch makes a soft sound from the bed, twitching his nose and flexing his fingers. There are more drugs than blood in him, keeping him weak and tired and unable to pick apart his surroundings. Hazy eyes blink open, peeled apart like they each weigh twenty pounds, and the simple act of keeping them open burns. He can’t make out the world around him very well but he sees the empty chairs on his left and the expanse of white all around. The hospital, he knows, and no one showed up.

Maybe they finally got wise and are leaving him to his own devices. Leaving him to rot where he won’t be missed. Sinking into the fibers of the bed and disappearing. They’ll stop pumping him so full of drugs and just let him wilt away. He wants it, craves the nothing he knows he’ll find. No masks or deception or this anger he feels burning and rearing its ugly head. Just nothing.

Derek steps into the room, sniffling to draw in some noise before he steps into Hotch’s line of sight. Hoping not to startle him, as he clears his throat, meeting Hotch’s gaze for only a moment looking down at his shoes. “Just me and Hank,” he offers. He tucks his hands into his pockets. He can feel Hotch still looking at him, hearing those painstakingly slow, labored breaths. He wishes he hadn’t come. To escape all this restless vulnerability.

Hotch’s eyes sink back shut, pale lips parting to mumbling, “Derek,” under his breath. Savannah told him Hotch wouldn’t even likely know he was there. The drugs are affecting his mental facilities, sedating him to keep him calm while they run tests. When he can remember what’s happening he’s scared and when he can’t… he has a baseline memory that hardly differentiates friend from foe. It’s the latter of which Savannah needs him to be aware of because Hotch’s heart can’t handle the stress. His mind is too clouded and his body too weak, he just needs someone to hold his hand. Someone to distract him.

Derek’s expecting a conversation. For Hotch to say something. To apologize for running off or to pay Hank some sort of mind. There’s not even a stiff silence, Hotch looks so weak, so pliant Derek isn’t sure he can even speak. He realizes that despite all the hefty warnings, despite everything that he was told he still walked into this room expecting Aaron Hotchner. He wanted, he needed the man in the suit, with that stern scowl, and gravelly voice. He’d needed the mask and instead he got the man. The man without the armor, just blood.

And it scares him.

It scares Derek that Hotch can’t put up his shields, that he can’t hide and play their cat and mouse game of anger and misunderstanding. They only have blind defeat.

Derek sits down in the visitor’s chair, shushing Hank when he squirms with agitation. Hank immediately starts touching everything in sight. Reaching and leaning dangerously out of Morgan’s lap, to touch the bed and smack his hand against the rail. A sound that makes Hotch’s eyes peel open to slivers before they shut again, unbothered. “Don’t touch that,” Derek pulls Hank into his lap, redirecting his attention.

He knows, from the low whine Hank lets out, that this isn’t going to work for very long. Mercifully, there’s a knock at the door and Savannah peeks her head in. Waving at Hank who fights his limbs out of Derek’s hold to be placed on the floor so he can propel his body in the direction of his mother.

“Hello baby,” Savannah scoops him right up. Grinning at that way he toddles, that quick toddler pace because he doesn’t know how to pump the brakes. How to set himself into motion that isn’t just guided by leaning forward and running.

Derek stands from his chair, clearing his throat and glancing down at Hotch before looking back to his wife and son.

Savannah can see his hesitation, his worry. “Why don’t we go to the cafeteria and get a snack? Hmm?” She jogs Hank up in her arms and he brightens at the offering - knowing pudding or a cookie is coming his way. “Derek?” She offers out her hand to him, “come on. I’ll explain everything to you downstairs.”

“Ugh--” all he can see is Hotch shivering. His skin slick with sweat from the strain on his body but the way he’s curled into the side. Trying to produce warmth where it isn’t. “Just give me a second.” Derek knows he can’t just throw the blanket over Hotch and he works himself up, gets upset just thinking about the mass of awful scars keeping his friend held together. All the old scars are bare for anyone and everyone to see. If Hotch had the presence of mind for it, he’d be upset.

With a gentleness born with great amounts of stress, Derek gently works the lower half of the blanket over Hotch’s leg. He folds the lower half over and hesitates, stares at Hotch, and wonders just how much he’s allowed. Hotch is cold and Derek knows that means his arms too but that crosses their line. They’re never spoken out loud, only shot through glances about trust and touch but Hotch is asleep or maybe lost to his haze of drugs (and Derek’s not really sure if there’s a difference between those two things). So, he picks up Hotch’s hand, swallowing against the uncomfortable swell of his throat when he feels just how cold the other man’s skin is. He tucks Hotch’s hand carefully against his chest.

Hotch’s face twitches, a grimace that makes him jerk his head but he doesn’t move his hand so Derek leaves it. Carefully, still watching and waiting for some explosive reaction but none come. Derek turns the heated blanket up to the highest setting, making sure even Hotch’s shoulders are covered. Tucking the blanket just under his chin.

Hotch groans from the back of his throat, a startling noise that comes with blinding panic. His eyes fly open, darting around the room and to Derek but not seeing. Derek can’t tell if it’s pain or fear but the machine over his shoulder picks up pace, reflecting Hotch’s distress. Hotch swallows thickly, mouth opening and eyes flicking around the room. Twisting, fighting his body in a futile battle where he loses no matter the outcome. Kicking out and dislodging blankets as he’s blinded by his pain.

“Step back Derek.” Derek just stands there, frozen. Savannah grabs him by the arm and pulls him back, allowing other people to come into the room. “He’s okay,” she mumbles, eyes glued to Hotch. He’s fighting blindly, anything and everything. His heart can’t take it, her eyes flick from his bare skin to the monitors. To the staff also taking note. “Derek, we can’t be in here.”

They pull the crash cart close, preparing vials of medicine before their eyes.

“What’re they--” Derek can’t move. He stands there watching them move blankets out of the way. Listening as they pull open a drawer and settle a machine on top and he knows what it is. Doesn’t need to be told what’s happening next. “Savannah.” He stumbles back, shaking his head. The machine wines, a high-pitched squeal that makes Derek’s heart pick up.

He doesn’t see, doesn’t watch.

He’s standing in the hall when the machine fires off. Can close his eyes but can’t unhear the sound of Hotch’s low groan, a punched-out sound but he’s alive. Still pulling in breaths.

“Morgan?”

He was still a baby the last time Morgan saw him. Quickly trying to climb to his father’s height but every bit as graceful as a colt, and angry. Angry with his father for falling into this same repeated history and questioning what he knew. How much of his father’s strength is something else? What does he really know about the man who raised him? Because he got himself a chunk of history, started to understand the man he’d always blindly turned to. His hero. Instead, he got glimpses, stories about the boy his mother knew and he could no longer recognize him.

But standing here now is a whole teenager. Blonde hair grown out and even taller, built unmistakably like his father with all height in his legs and pale.

“Jack.” Morgan stumbles back when Jack collides into him, long arms wrapping around him. “Oh my God,” he whispers. “When the hell did you get so big?” He’s standing there, a whole armful of the kid he used to give piggyback rides to.

Jack pulls away and wipes his eyes, furiously wipes his eyes so that Morgan can unsee the tears streaming down his face. “My-- My dad,” he asks. “Did you see him?” Jack looks at the room, alerted by the sounds coming from within, but Morgan steps in the way. “Morgan is he-- is he in there?” Jack worms his way out of Morgan’s arms, a whole tangle of long limbs.

Hotch would be proud to know Jack is exactly like him, real scrappy. A lot of fight for such a lanky person.

“Jack,” Morgan pulls him away from the door. Despite how much he wants to go to Hotch too, that’s not where Jack should be. That’s not what Jack should see. “Come on, kid. We can’t go in there. Come on.” The fight leaves him easily enough, he’s really just a kid standing there looking for someone to tell him what to do. Anyone to point him where he’s supposed to be.

Jack still wants to turn, as if pulled by strings.

“I called Rossi,” Morgan offers. Something to distract him, something good. “Everyone else? Reid and Garcia and Emily? They’re on their way, okay?” And even with loaded promises Jack can’t find the nerve to respond. Their names used to be a solace. Someone to call when he needs help with his math homework. To show up with books on whatever cool thing he’s into this week. His family.

People he hasn’t seen in forever.

They do come.

Hank’s ambling about, babbling to Morgan as he pulls his father around the waiting room. It’s his excited squeal that alerts them to the other’s arrival. To Reid holding the door open so the others can pass. The pile-up that happens, shocked inhales and silence as they stand there and look at the carnage. At Jack’s tear-stained face and Morgan going where Hank pulls but empty, fearful.

“Uncle Dave?” Jack stands up, wiping at his face with the back of his hand.

Dave smiles, “hey kiddo.” He doesn’t argue against the armful of Jack he gets, just closes him up. “Christ,” Dave whispers. “You’re a giant.”

“What is he feeding you?” Jack turns around and finds Emily and all she can do is laugh as he hugs her too. Finds herself all wrapped up in his long arms. “I’m going to give him a piece of my mind,” she whispers, “letting you get so big.” She squeezes him tight, cups the back of his head.

There’s not much more time for reunions, never much time for anything.

“Aaron Hotchner?”

Never get used to this part either. The sitting. The waiting. The calling.

Savannah was right about the tachycardia.

“With your permission - ” and it’s important that detail be added. That Hotch can’t make this decision for himself anymore and it’s resting entirely on the shoulders of Jessica or Dave and Emily alternatively. That doesn’t mean it’s not like a kick to the gut. A cruel taunt. “We would like to prepare him for the surgery now while he’s stable.” Stable? Is that what he is? Laying back there with defibrillator pads on his chest and sedated to the point that Morgan wasn’t sure Hotch could even recognize him.

Jack sniffles, ducking his head and whispering to Emily. Attached to her hip, clinging to her. She shakes her head and brushes his hair back, “it doesn’t work like that, Jack.” Jack’s lower lip trembles and it breaks Emily’s heart so she interrupts the doctors. Despite the voice at the back of her head telling her this isn’t a good idea. Despite the sour twist in her stomach. The way she knows Hotch wouldn’t want this. “I know there are strict rules,” and that alone should be enough to know they’re likely to be shot down. “Is there any chance he can go back before the surgery? This is his son, he’s fifteen. He’ll be sixteen soon. You’re hardly breaking the rules at all.”

Soon is a bit of a stretch. Jack’s an October baby.

The doctor looks at Jack and sighs like this is really putting him off but nods. “Yeah, quickly. Five minutes, do you understand? You can’t be back there long,”

And Jack thinks he’s won something grand. That he’ll be faced with the same mirage Morgan was expecting. His dad will be sitting back there tall and strong, probably just tired like he’s sick. But he takes one step into the room and wishes he hadn’t come. Hadn’t asked.

They haven’t removed the defibrillator pads on his chest just pulled a blanket over his stomach but that only minimally covers the damage. There are still visibly warped bullet wounds and jagged surgical scars to be seen. But Dave has seen all that. He’d been there to watch the blood spray out when the scar on Hotch’s shoulder took place. Shouted as the gunshot sprayed out and Hotch grunted, being sent back into the wall behind him. But that was… God, that was a lifetime ago when Hotch was just a kid.

Dave turns behind him and sees Jack frozen in the doorway, eyes wide. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Jack nods but he can hardly move, can’t force himself to move further into the room. He’s seen his father shirtless, not enough times to really gather anything but he’s seen the damage of years of this job has caused. But this is different. Jack isn’t six, isn’t watching him shave. He’s standing there watching him pull in laborious breaths, struggling to keep living.

“You know,” Rossi sits down in the visitor’s chair. “When you were born he cried so hard that Gideon had to call me.” He looks back at Jack, watching his face for some inclination that he’s going to either come into the room or run away. “Haley was exhausted but… She was beautiful, always was. No matter if she was showing up at the office to haul your father home by the ear in her pajamas or crying her make-up off in the waiting room waiting for your knucklehead father to get out of surgery.”

But he’s missed the point.

He chances a glance to Hotch, watching his pale face twist in discomfort. “You were born at eleven at night and by that point I was already in bed and done for the night by ten kind of guy.” He can still remember sighing and almost ignoring his phone when it had gone off. “I got to the hospital and your dad was sitting on the floor just outside the room, sobbing so hard I thought he’d pass out.” It’s still pretty surprising he didn’t pass out. “Didn’t think he could do it. You were so small, small, and pink and screaming your little head off.”

Jack huffs, smiling as he kicks at the ground. Looking everywhere but his father or Dave.

“But I picked him up,” grabbed him by his shirt and forced him to his feet. Managing the tough love Gideon couldn’t bring himself to enforce. “I don’t think he stopped crying until he fell asleep. Just sitting there with you in his arms crying.” Rossi sighs shakes his head. “Honestly, you were tiny. Had a-- Had a thing with your heart and…” Rossi had held Jack after Hotch and Haley finally managed to catch some sleep. A nurse had figured he or Gideon one had to be a grandfather, why else would they be there? They’d sat there with Jack for about an hour just gushing over how small and cute he was. Trying to keep the baby content so Haley could get some sleep.

Drowsily his voice cuts through the silence, nothing but a ghost of a whisper. “An atrial septal defect.” It’s all he can manage but it’s enough to get their attention. Jack had been born with an atrial septal defect and they knew about it in advance just after Haley’s pregnancy got tricky. It was just a tiny little hole in his atrium, closed before he was a whole year old. That doesn’t mean it didn’t scare the hell out of them first. Leave them to check his bassinet every few hours. To make sure he was okay, still breathing.

“The doctor said I shouldn’t play soccer because of it.” Jack manages a few steps and comes to the very end of the bed. His fingers just barely touching the bed frame. “But you let me play anyways.”

Hotch clears his throat, shakes his head. “I didn’t. Jessica did.” He grimaces, shifting uselessly to find a position that doesn’t hurt. “Said-- She said if you were anything like me you’d find a way.” He’s talked himself breathless, gasping and fighting to breathe. “Might as well-- Might as well make it easy on myself. Just let you do it.” So he had. He signed Jack up for soccer despite his own fears and went to every match he could. Every practice. Until he was the only parent paying attention.

He coughs softly, setting off a weight and ache in his lungs. “Jessica--” he cuts himself off, coughing until he holds his breath and fists the sheets in his hand to keep from still.

Jack looks away, fixes his eyes on the floor.

Dave calls it. Hotch won’t admit he’s not okay and Dave would venture Jack has that same stubborn-streak, doesn’t want to think that Hotch isn’t okay.

“Come on,” Dave motions for Jack to follow him. “Times up, better get out of here before they kick us out.” Five or so minutes, that’s all they had and that’s passed. “You’ll be fine,” Dave promises.

He struggles to get his breath, to say something coherent. “Wait,” he grabs Dave’s shirt. Hospitals are so cold, they’re scary and miserable and he doesn’t want to be here. He wants to go home. “I’m sorry,” he manages. “I’m sorry.”

Dave pulls Jack on, can’t leave him behind, and can’t stay any longer.

“What did he mean?” Jack asks. He keeps looking back, looking over his shoulder to the room. “Why’d he say that?” He has to run to keep up with Dave’s pace. “Dave, please. Why’d he say he was sorry?”

Dave stops and just stands for a moment, looking at the hall before them. “He’s scared,” Dave answers, finally. “He’s just scared, that’s all.”

He doesn't think he’s going to make it. That’s the horrible ugly truth. That’s why he apologized. Just in case.

“Come on,” Dave holds out his arm. Smiles a smile that doesn't even try to make it to his eyes and wraps an arm around Jack. “It’s going to be okay. You know that?”

Jack looks back over his shoulder once more, to the room. He doesn’t buy it for a second but he nods anyway. “Course,” he answers.

“Good. That’s good.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #savannah hayes #derek morgan #hank morgan #jack hotchner #david rossi #emily prentiss #spencer reid #penelope garcia #jennifer jareau

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thegracelessfaceless · 3 years

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Hi love bug! Thank you so much in advance. Seeing your stuff in my ask box always makes me super happy.

So, I’m Elsie, she/her/hers, and bi (but I lean heavily towards men rn). I’m a Virgo sun, Scorpio rising and Aquarius moon. I’m also an introvert, but I love being around other people! I just get,,,,, tired easily.

I’m East Asian + Southeast Asian (Chinese and Vietnamese). I’m barely 5’0 tall! Long, black hair that reached my upper thighs and dark brown eyes that you can’t even see the pupil lmfao. I always have painted nails, usually red. I’m pretty athletic and I also like to think I have nice thighs—most of my workouts include building up my legs lol. I wear big gold hoop earrings. I also wear round Harry Potter glasses. My body isn’t very curvy, in fact I’m pretty flat but I am COVERED in stretch marks. I also have acne flare ups from time to time but it’s usually nothing noticeable anymore.

I’d like to think I’m a pretty chill person, likes to go with the flow and stuff like that. My friends say I’m often their therapist or their mom, which is kinda funny because that’s what I’m in uni for, to be a therapist. I’m a pretty determined and motivated person? I like to push myself pretty hard ngl but I also like to just hang out and take it slow. I also like to do stupid things like exploring abandoned buildings at 2am. I’m also big into intersectional feminism. I’ve also been told I’m really approachable and friendly, but bro I am so shy and quiet in public unless I get to know you.

I can get pretty stubborn tbh, it depends once again on what the topic is but once I’ve set my mind to it, that’s how it’s going to be. I also have low self esteem and my depression sometimes makes it hard for me to even get out of bed at times. I usually don’t know when to stop giving myself to other people, which means I get pretty exhausted and fast. I’m also prone to overthinking which stresses me out. And when I’m stressed, I can honestly get a little bitey.

I apologize to inanimate objects if I’ve bumped into them, and I also have a tendency to talk to myself? I also am a witch! I’m currently elbows deep in some deity work and ngl my energy is all over the place. I also have a weird habit of waving to security cameras I see in public because I like to think the people watching those cameras get a kick out of it lol.

I really like coffee, tea, singing with my ukulele, playing piano, drawing and art in general. I haven’t been able to draw as much as I’d like recently but I do have some animatics in my head. I also really like Victoria’s Secret perfumes, specifically strawberry pound cake—it’s what I always smell like lol. Crystals are super fun imo. I live next to a huge lake and it’s honestly one of my favorite places to be. Ocean animals are my favorite! I also really like car rides with like, one other person and just exploring the world and talking. The music I listen to is a lot of classic rap, lofi-hip hop, modern rap, some pop artists and Ella Fitzgerald, Gloria Gaynor, HaroinFather, KYLE, and ofc Hollywood Undead.

I cannot stand centipedes those things horrify me. I also don’t like rude people, bigots, people who purposely start drama or hypocrites. People who put other people down aren’t cool either. I don’t really like parties or being around lots of people, they make me anxious and kinda suffocated. People who try to force me to do stuff aren’t cool in my books either. I also think red meat is kinda gross, but that’s just because it makes me exhausted.

Eeeee I am so sorry if this is too much, but thank you so much in advance. Nothing but love to you, and all your future writing and everything you’ve done so far. 💕

Heyy! I almost hit the roof when your follow came in 😅.

So I told myself that Brian and Hoody are disqualified because of obvious bias, but, damn you make it hard!

So, Brian aside, I match you with...

The Puppeteer/Jonathan Blake

I know, I know, odd choice right?

But you came under his attention, and just when he thought you were getting ready to bend to his will, you'd rally. He found it... Refreshing that you keep fighting, no matter how low you feel.

Of course, he had to be persistent in gaining your trust. You weren't falling for his smooth talking ways. He tried not to use any information gained from his psychic gifts... but if they helped him know something you've really been wanting or something that's bothering him, that's a different story. It took him years to gain your trust and that was only after he slipped and let some of his old self, from before he became The Puppeteer, out. You seemed to prefer that side of him, so he revealed it more frequently.

Jonathan is an introvert too, and like you, being around other people can tire him out. He prefers nights in or long car rides with you with some good but soft music playing.

Jonathan finds it ironic that you want to be a therapist while his main method of feeding is by intensifying depression symptoms. In ways, you've softened him. He'll spare those who seem to have the drive to live. But he views it as a friendly competition of sorts. Like a married couple of lawyers, but one works for the prosecution and the other works for the defense. How many souls can you save verses how many he can take?

Jonathan will listen to every crystal fact you have, and want to know more about your witchiness. He's like a sponge. Throw information at him and he's soaking it up.

Let's gloss over the fact that he can control golden threads from his fingers. I'm sure it'll come up in #just chatting.

Jonathan is a caffeine addict, that and cigarettes are what fueled him when he first went to college. He loves drawing with you over a hot cup of coffee.

Eat what you want, Jonathan doesn't really care. He might take a bite of something every now and then, but he doesn't really need it. This makes it so he finds your scent... Intoxicating.

#creepypasta #creepypasta matchups #the puppeteer #the puppeteer x reader

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internalsealpanic · 4 years

Text

Lover, Tell Me, if You’re Able

Summary: You trek down to the underworld to save a certain Robin using your admittedly limited knowledge of Greek Mythology. Nothing a little moxie can’t fix right?

a/n: I’ve been wanting to do an Orpheus Eurydice thing with Jason for a while now. I’m pretty sure this has been done but I really wanted to take a stab at it.

listen to this song while reading: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zP47npl3rHo

warnings: angst, slight body horror, unhealthy grieving, bad decisions, and kind of an eating disorder caused by unhealthy grieving. There is some tooth rotting fluff though.

word count: 5,049

You snorted in your usual short, breathy laugh—which according to certain asshats sounded less like a laugh and more like the death rattle of a hyena —as you nearly tripped over what felt like the fiftieth rock in the past half hour. You cursed quietly wrapping your shaking arms around yourself letting your unkempt fingernails dig into your thoroughly abused coat which probably had a few unwanted holes by now. It wasn’t even that cold nor was it even remotely scary. You know, aside form the ghostly moaning bouncing off the walls but that was par for the course in Gotham subways. No big deal.

After what felt like the seventieth rock, you swore. You swore loud and vicious and cutting. You swore to capital ‘G’ god that when you found Jason Peter Todd you were gonna curb stomp his ass into next week. This is his fault for being stupid enough to- to-

Just like that, your anger and frustration plummeted into grief.

Your mind fell back to the funeral,

For the first since you entered the dark tunnel a few hours ago—a few days ago?—, you could feel the cavernous walls threatening to close in on you as you took another shaky step.

To all the ‘I’m sorrys’ and condolences,

You could feel your rib cage fall open. Each gentle pat on, gentle look, and hushed whispers scooping out your insides leaving a vast empty cavity save for a heart that ached too much to beat properly and a pair of lungs clogged with too tar to breathe. The expanse of your chest feeling too full and too hollow at once.

To all the ‘he died too young’ crap,

No shit!

No friggin shit!

He was 16. He was six-fucking-teen. He just got his fucking driver’s license.

You wanted to scream but the words lingered in your bones. Instead, the nestled and furled into a mantra and worked their way up to your throat, burning. As if folding and creasing them into a perfect, proper eulogy of hand-picked words would bring him back.

You knew it wouldn’t. You weren’t foolish. You weren’t that hopeful. You weren’t even disgustingly hopeful. You were Alley born. You were practical and brutally realistic. You were also not dumb. As much as people in Gotham Academy seem to believe, you weren’t stupid. You knew there was no ending to his story that involved a long peaceful life. He was also a child of the Alley, born of Gotham’s gutter, there was no way he would not die young.

Your tongue felt heavy like a tombstone being set into place.

And to all the ‘he’s in a better place now’

HA!

The words set your grief a flame burning it into the kind of white anger that consumes even those around you.

Fucking hilarious.

Just fanfuckingtastic.

You’d see about that.

You took a long sobering breath holding it in afraid that if you breathed out the anger would seep out leaving you with nothing but grief.

After what felt like an eternity, you breathed out sure that all the anger, all the irritation, and all the sputtering hope had settled in your bones.

You were going to get him back.

You will.

——————————————————————————————————————————

Jason tapped the edge of your science textbook with his pencil morse coding something and clearly demanding your attention. You rolled your eyes, moved your textbook an inch closer to you, and continued reading through the passage electing to ignore your likely scowling best friend.

He tapped again. You didn’t look up sure that he’d go away if you pretended his existence was an elaborate hoax. This ingenious strategy is probably why you two have been glued together for the last 10 years.

Losing patience, he snatched up your textbook earning a petulant, half-hearted glare from you. “What the fuck do you want, Jay?”

“Do you remember the Myth of Orpheus and Eurydice?”

You blinked at him, honestly confused.

He gave you a questioning look. He could probably see the gears turning in your head.

You’d heard the names before but you were struggling to associate them with anything. Until it clicked.

“Oh yeah, Hadestown the dude with the guitar-”

“Lyre,”

You made an affronted noise which made him roll his eyes at you but you could see the slight twitch in his lips at your antics. You would count that as a win.

“He plays the lyre, you uncultured swine. Did you even read the packet?” He asked lightly tapping your head with your textbook.

“Your posh bitch is showing,” you snorted. he tapped your head just a tinsy bit harder with the textbook. You scowled at him. He gave you a gentle reassuring smile which roughly translated to ‘it was an accident I swear’. “Uh sure. Yeah. Course, I read the packet” you lied reaching over for your textbook which he sets down on the table behind him.

“Are you even literate?” He joked.

“Last time I checked I needed that to forge doctor’s notes for rich snots,” Jason wrinkled his nose trying his level best to scowl at you but from the crow's feet forming at the corners of his eyes the laughter bubbling in his chest was clearly winning out. You knew he was just worried about the unnecessary risk you were taking but it was a bad habit from the Alley days you couldn’t shake. It wasn’t like you were likely to get caught.

“The In Class Essay is next period, dip shit” he sneered as harshly as he could. He was so bad at being a hard ass that you just smiled. “Yet here you are talking to me and depriving me of my education,” you snarked, gesturing vaguely to your book.

You could technically get up and get it yourself but you were too lazy and you were pretty sure Jason wasn’t gonna let you get the book that easily. “Sides, it’s English who cares?” At that, Jason wrinkled his nose in disgust. “How am I friends with you again?”

You hummed, leaning back in your chair, tilting your head back dramatically before flinging yourself over the table to snatch up the textbook from the table behind him. You were a good amount taller than Jason which really wasn’t something to be too proud of. The bar wasn’t too fucking high.

You plopped back down to your chair grinning ear to ear victoriously immensely enjoying his shocked look. Then he looked like he was about to deck you.

“Well for starters, I’ve saved your ass from getting shanked about 15 times now. That’s just counting instances out of uniform,” He looked at you affronted. You simply rolled your shoulders. “Plus,” You reached into your blazer pocket and produced a beat-up looking tootsie pop ring.”You’re the one who proposed,”

Jason turned a luminescent shade of red as if you had just pulled out his entire cash of porn which you’ve done. “Why do you still have that?! How?”

“Because you still haven’t given me a proper one,” you said smugly tilting your head to the side inviting him for a rebuttal. He sighed exasperated. Resting his chin on his hand, palm covering half of his face, he glared at the opposite wall making damned sure that he didn’t look your way. The flush in his ears peaked through his cropped curls. It was hard to catch but your nosy ass definitely heard him mumble “I’m saving up,”.

Your face broke into a stupidly wide smile, a warm feeling bubbling up in you. “I’ll hold you to that, lover,” you cooed cheerfully, giving him a quick peck on the nose as the bell rang. You could see the mortification attack his entire being in waves.

——————————————————————————————————————————-

Stumbling out of the tunnel, you find yourself in a fray of souls all crowding towards the shore. You keep your head down and shuffle in step with the dead.

‘The dead hate the living’ Constantine warned as he handed you the drachma and a beat-up old map. You handed him a wad of cash. He didn’t seem to care that money was dirty.

You keep your expression carefully blank and focus on your feet but the sheer anxiety crawling up your spine rattling every vertebra was making that very difficult. You swallowed thickly trying to think of anything else but the depressing moans and absolutely haunted expressions were also making your life difficult. Instead, you focus on your award-winning bullshit speech that was surely going to win over the lord and lady of the underworld. Ok, sure, you weren’t half the thief Jason was nor were you even half as smart. But you were definitely the better conman. You might have had absolutely no interest in English class but words have always been your friend. You could definitely spin it with the best of them. It helped that all the rough edges that came with being an Alley kid tucked themselves neatly away behind trustworthy eyes and easy smiles. Even gods could be taken for a ride, right?

Somehow you made it to the shore without incident and even got yourself on the boat without even as much as a glance from the ferryman. That was a little unnerving but you weren’t about to complain. Not when it brought you a step closer to your goal. It might have been partially due to your unkempt appearance. Long nails, dead fish eyes, ratty coat, sallow cheeks, and dimming complexion all thanks to this wonderful diet called ‘grieving over your dumbass boyfriend/best friend because he decided to be a dramatic bitch and die an untimely death’. Part of you wonders if you simply want to bring him back so you could murder him. Maybe. Looking around at the haunted looks on your fellow passengers move that to a probably.

Uncomfortable, you jam your hands into your coat pockets. One hand dug deep into the recesses of the pocket where the little ring was safely squirreled away. You fidgeted with it passing it from finger to finger like the coin trick you’d learned a while back.

——————————————————————————————————————————

“Marry me,” Jason demanded unsurely, kneeling on one knee clasping your hand with both of his tiny ones. His little face ironed into something serious but cheeks flushed making them, what the girls called, pinchable but even at age 6, you were able to resist if simply for the fact that you were dumbstruck by the fact that your best friend and crush was suddenly at your doorstep in the middle of the day and clasping your hand.

“What?” You asked tugging your hand away but he didn’t let go. He absolutely refused to.

“Marry me,” he insisted. “I’m proposing,” he added shyly seeing how the confused furrow in your brow did not disappear. “Lena said it was a good idea,” he added quietly.

A round of hoots and hollers exploded behind you including Lena who was laughing her ass off. Even Carol and Lassie who were busy doing their makeup were snickering and giving you a thumbs up respectively. Your face burned hot and you scowled at all of them which just made them laugh louder. You snapped your attention back to Jason who looked at you with bright earnest blue eyes. Fuck. You crossed your arms trying to look intimidating and failing miserably because of just how goddamned cute he looked. Manipulative bastard.

“Don’t you need a ring for that, bud?” you challenged.

“Oh yeah,” He scrambled digging through his various pockets before producing a tootsie pop ring. Your hackles rose. What the hell Lena?

“Look at the size of that rock!” Josaline hollered from behind you. You could see the teasing smile on her face. You wanted to shrink. You wanted to maul them. You also wanted to burst because your crush likes you. You had a tiny, itsy bitsy crush on Jason for a while now. You’ve always declared that it was small but that didn’t stop the girls from teasing you relentlessly and this was just a nail in the coffin. You wanted to scream at Jason but the way he looked at you made your little heart flutter.

“Fine,”

He grinned wide. “Great! We can share rent,” he said his earnest smile turning cheeky. You swore some of the girls were choking from laughter. That was the moment you decided to make Jason Todd’s life miserable.

——————————————————————————————————————————-

As it turns out, traversing the underworld wasn’t that hard.

Nope. It wasn’t any harder than going around crime alley. At least here, you weren’t too worried about getting shot.

Nope.

It was just incredibly. Fucking. Depressing.

The atmosphere was suffocating and the only thing you’ve heard for hours were people listing their regrets when they weren’t too busy sobbing. Given they have every right to be this way. They did die after all. But Christ! You being able to understand it didn’t mean you could stand it.

Jason owed you big time.

Jason owed you the largest bowl of ice cream complete with 20 different flavors of your choosing, a mountain of whipped cream, a shovel full of sprinkles, and an ungodly amount of chocolate syrup.

And a hug. A long ass, bone crushing hug.

Yeah, you’re definitely demanding a hug. You don’t care if his pansy ass tries to break for it. You were getting the hug.

Once this was done-

You turned the thought over in your head pointedly ignoring the fat droplets of tears now streaking your face. You weren’t entirely sure whether they were from relief or unrelenting anxiety. If you succeed, your 8 months of hell would have been worth it.

But what if I fail?

What happens when I fail?

The thought seized your breath, your lungs constricting as if their cage of bones was threatening to collapse in on itself in your effort to shrink away from the possibility. You stopped breathing completely. A bad habit you picked up from your first foster home after social services took you from your home. Apparently, they didn’t think a group of hookers could provide a safe loving environment for a kid. Assholes. Breathing meant relaxing. Relaxing meant letting your guard down. Letting your guard down led to bad things. Jason never commented on your new habit after you two reunited. After you both found yourselves at the mercy of Gotham’s streets.

“Lover tell me if you can~” You paused but not quite long enough for a response. Not like a few months ago when you’d wait catatonically for Jason to respond with the verse you’d forgotten in his oddly melodious voice. Singing was the one way you’d learned to breathe out after locking up without triggering a panic attack. Sure, it annoyed the hell out of a lot of people but who cares. You liked it. Your voice was decent. Plus, Jason loved it when you sang. Your breaths flowed easier accompanied by a melody and the smile on Jason’s face every time you sang always took your breath away.

——————————————————————————————————————————-

“ Lover, tell me if you can Who’s gonna buy the wedding bands?~” You hummed the rest of the forgotten stanza under your breath as you wrap the ‘acquired’ blanket around the both of you. Gotham winters were a bitch but you tried your best to keep your spirits up which basically meant teasing Jason to hell and back. Who knew calling him lover would annoy him so much?

Instead of the intended reaction, Jason simply continued to the next stanza sounding a lot more in tone than you. You huffed partially from amusement partially from frustration.

“Figures you would know this song,” you teased.

Jason scowled tugging more of the blanket around himself as a lame form of retaliation. You leaned in closer to him and wrapped your arms around him. He huffed not really able to stay mad at you for too long.“It’s from Hadestown. The old woman at the pawnshop always plays it when she’s working,”

“Horse shit, all she ever plays when I’m there is Madame Guillotine,” You wrinkled your nose.”She probably hates me,”

“Gee, I wonder what that’s about,” Jason smirked.

“You know, she probably has a crush on you,”

“EW! Shut up!”

“Come on we gotta milk it-”

He elbowed you.

“Fine,” you relented, rubbing your chest and letting your head lean on his. You watched the snowfall basking in what little warmth you shared.

“Promise me you’ll sing that when-”

“IF”

“When we get married,”

“Fine but ya gotta sing the entire GI Joe theme song plus the Baby Shark Song,”

“BET”

——————————————————————————————————————————-

You stood before large obsidian doors bouncing on the balls of your feet. The doors were carved elegantly with swirling patterns and sprawling carvings of flowers and bones. Dramatic but very pretty. Your stomach churned as the doors lurched open.

You were going to be sick.

Before you were a long table piled high with every kind of food you could think of. Likely you would have had to pick up your jaw and mop up a cascade of drool from the floor if not for the last few months. Your stomach threatened to implode if you kept looking. Months of not eating properly did that to you. The first few months were the worst. You were barely able to keep a bite down without your body convulsing and rejecting it. Sadness had hollowed you out and filled you with something else during those months.

Now, you shifted your gaze to focus on the tall man sitting imperiously at the other end of the table on a throne carved out of precious metal. How someone looked imperious while eating was a mystery to you. It might be the fact that he was abnormally large looking to be around 10 ft tall. His frame was broad which contrasted greatly with the regal features of his face which were set in a rather loving configuration as he stared deep into the eyes of the dark-skinned woman as she recounted what sounded like a hilarious encounter with a dryad. The woman was unnaturally pretty with sculpted features and wild curls. She looked right at home underneath the sun which made her presence here ease your fraying nerves. They smiled at each other smitten with each other’s presence which almost made you feel guilty for interrupting their moment of marital bliss.

You clear your throat as politely as you could drawing their attention and possibly their ire towards you. You took a deep breath, the kind that inflated your entire body, and forced it out through your nostrils as your mouth was busy reconfiguring itself into an easy smile.

“My Lord Hades. My Lady Persephone,” You greeted bowing your head courteously. Your gestures were less grandiose and theatrical as the ones you used on the rich punks in Gotham which they happily lapped up. No, you made sure every movement, every posture, and every word was quieter, trying your damnedest to radiate sincerity and reverence from every pore in your body. Sure, you didn’t have Jason’s easy charisma and sure, you didn’t have the power Dick had for making everyone fall in love with you instantly but you were damned if you were going to make a fool of yourself in front of two literal gods and squander your only chance at getting your boy back. Not when you’ve come so far. Not when you’ve done so much. Not when you’ve dirtied your hands this much.

Hades looked neither pleased nor displeased by your presence. Good enough. The fact that you were still intact might have something to do with the mischief in Persephone’s eyes. She looked extremely amused despite your interruption. You hoped, which you didn’t normally do, that that boded well for you.

“I am her-”

“We know,” Hades interrupts.

Your body twitched. Rude. But you schooled your features into something resembling pleasantry.

“You’re here for the boy,” He adds, waving his hand. Without time for your brain to process. Jason is there battered, bloodied, and bruised. The dazed look in his eyes made him look haunted which made your breath seize. A cocktail of anger and sadness and relief swelled in you as your body twitched forward. All you wanted to do was hold him, to stroke his hair, to sing to him, to take him to Dr.Thompkins to get his injuries sorted out, and possibly watch the old woman thwack him on the head half a dozen times. Hell, you would offer to count. Your stomach churned and you felt dizzy. This is the most alive you’ve felt in months. This is also the most fearful you’ve felt in months. You felt like you were going to fall apart and recongeal into an entirely new person.

Focus.

It was hard to do when you saw how tattered his Robin uniform looked but you managed to straighten yourself out enough in time to catch Hades as he watched you appraisingly, searching for raw desperation in your features. You tucked it away in your bones and in the deepest recesses of your chest. He seemed amused and even mildly impressed by your restraint so he dined to push further.

“What are you willing to trade for him?”

Everything.

Your mind screamed automatically. The word dangled thickly at the edge of your tongue.

You would have plucked each and every star out of the sky and fashioned them into a necklace that would adorn Lady Persephone’s neck.

You would have used Poseidon’s ocean to douse the sun.

You would have used the fires of Tartarus to set the world ablaze. It deserved it for the hand it dealt Jason.

You would do anything if it meant having Jason back in your arms.

You bit your cheek hard forcing yourself to refocus. You shifted your posture making a show of thinking if only to gather yourself. You knew the answer. It might not have been the right one and if you’re being honest, it wasn’t even a good one. You rolled your shoulders trying to mold yourself into a more sure version of yourself.

“My future,”

The room plunged into silence.

Jason who had looked like he was not all there widened his eyes and shook his head at you. You simply leveled him a smile full of cocksure and hot air. Sure, your future wasn’t worth much. People have told you as much. But it was a novel offer. It wasn’t every day that a mortal offered their fate to you and gods love nothing more than novelty.

Both gods remained silent. Hades narrowing his eyes at you and Persephone stared at you with an unreadable expression. The longer the silence wore on the more your confidence waned. The treacherous chorus in your head began to sing of the failure that has yet to happen.

Persephone let out a trill of delighted laughter and Hades shook his head in amusement, his solemn lips twitching into the beginnings of a smile. Both you and Jason stiffened.

“My love, just let them go,” Persephone pleaded sweetly cupping Hades’s face gently. It was an intimate gesture that made even you soft.

“My dear…”

“It was not the boy’s time, my love,”

Damn straight, it wasn’t!

Hades let out an exasperated sigh before looking at you again. “I will grant you both freedom if you pass my trials,”

“Anything!” The word spilled out of you too quickly, too raw. A satisfied smile wrinkled at the corners of Hades’s eyes. Fucker.

“I will have you do three trials-” He flicked his hand and Jason materialized beside you. “-with the boy’s aid,” Without an ounce of hesitation, you gathered him into your arms with all the bravado and restraint giving way too stupidly unfiltered happiness. Without meaning to, you let fat droplets of tears streak your face. Jason copped your face giving you a wry smile and wiping away the tears with his thumb.

“You look like shit,”

“So do you,”

You both laughed. You kissed his palm and took his hand from your face and kissed his knuckle. A flush crept on to Jason’s face but he couldn’t hide that any better than he could hide the loving look in his eyes when he looked into yours.

The trials were almost insultingly easy especially when you had the world’s best Robin with you. Sure, you were battered and bruised but it was nothing you could not handle. You suspected that Persephone was rooting for you. That or Hades just wanted you out of his hair. Either way, you didn’t care. There was no way you were failing.

You returned to Hades’ hall, arms full of spoils, and Jason’s hand interlaced with yours. You both try to fight off the hopeful feeling bubbling in your chest but there was no helping it when his hand was warm in yours. You smiled gratefully at Persephone who returned it in kind, looking sincerely happy for the both of you. You made a note to send her an appropriate sacrifice once you were back on the surface.

Hades inspected your spoils and hummed. Your stomach lurched. Jason squeezed your hand and kissed your nose. Persephone practically squealed at the adorable gesture while Hades just smiled at his wife’s antics.

“You have succeeded,”

“Thank you-”

“But I have one last trial for you,”

Hades holds up his hand before you could protest.

“Do you recall the deal I made with Orpheus?”

You nodded almost numbly. Jason gave you a surprised look which you returned with a scowl.

“Good. I will make the same deal with you. Does that sound fair to you?”

You both nodded frantically. You knew this would be hard especially with your frayed nerves but it was nothing you could not handle.

On the way to the tunnel, you held each other close, soaking up contact while you could. When you reached the tunnel, you hesitantly let go of his hand making sure to remember the feeling of your fingers intertwined together. He pressed kisses to every inch of your face likely feeling guilty over your haggard state. You whispered jokes and half baked promises to appease him in return as you squeezed him harder. You walked tensely up the tunnel trailed by his ever quieting footsteps. You began to hum every song you could think of including the very annoying ones which earned you a lot of annoyed grunts and critiques from your ghostly companion. You also chattered about everything you could think of. All the latest gossip. All the things you learned during your global crime spree. You may have left out the crime spree but you could deal with the fall out later. Instead, you focused on the happy things. The things you wanted to do with him once you two got out. Once, you brought him back to Gotham. Sure, Bruce was probably going to maul you for all the trouble you’ve caused the JLA but fuck them. Seriously fuck them.

After what felt like an eternity, you saw it. You saw light. Bright, crisp, and blinding. You were going to cry. You were almost there. You were almost out. Your body launched into a sprint. Your chest felt like something in it shook loose and your body was lighter than it had ever been. You were almost there. You could almost feel the sun on your skin.

You ran into the light and -

——————————————————————————————————————————-

You woke up on the damp earth.

Everything ached.

Your veins felt rusty and sluggish.

Your mind even more so.

Snow flitted down to the earth in gentle feathery flakes.

Your senses returned to you one by one.

The sound of shouting and car horns littered the periphery of your consciousness.

Your fingers felt cold and numb.

The familiar smell and taste of Gotham smog overwhelmed your senses.

That wasn’t right.

That wasn’t right at all. You were in Mani in southern Peloponnese. You were face to face with one of the Gates of Hades just a few hours ago.

You shuffled through your coat. You did not have your drachma. You did not have your map.

You snapped your head in every direction looking desperately for any sign of Jason. Not even a single footprint.

Your stomach dropped as despair took hold of you and clung to every bone in your body. Pulling yourself up unsteadily, you stood taking baby steps towards a thoroughly battered brick wall. Fishing your phone out of your pocket, your phone began dialing a number automatically.

“You have reached Wayne Manor,” Alfred’s posh voice carries over the phone.

Your breath stutters. The words claw their way out of your chest.

“Jason- Jason, he-”

Alfred remained silent. Alfred was likely shaking his head in pity. You couldn’t stand that. You could barely stand the feeling of your skin right now. Your resounding failure rippled underneath your skin making you tremble on to your knees. You could do nothing but crumple to the ground in pathetic sobs as the weight of agony and despair weighed over you.

“Jason. Jason. Jason.”

You whispered apologetically, reverently. The words would not call him back. Those words could never call him back.

—————————————————————————————————————————–

Piece by piece Jason returned to himself.

Jason woke up swallowed in darkness. It was deep and unyielding. Even his training with Batman could not alleviate the anxiety that brought.

The second thing to return was his hearing. It was deathly silent save for the pounding of his own heart and his frantic breathing.

Where was he?

The air around him tasted stale and the resolute smell of formaldehyde was inescapable.

Then the pain lanced through and all his memories came back in a splotchy kaleidoscope of fear, fire, and pain.

He was dead.

He died.

He was in Ethiopia.

He was trying to save his mom.

Oh god.

Where is Bruce?

Where is he?

Why is it so dark?

Jason tried to move his limbs but it was no use. He was boxed in.

That’s when the smell of earth hit him.

Jason pressed his hands every which way.

He was literally boxed in.

Was he in a coffin?

He tried to scream.

His mouth was wired shut.

Oh god.

He was going to die.

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The ending was a bit rushed. I might edit it later. Thank you so much for reading. Feel free to roast me in the comments.

(Note: I tried editing the ending to make it more panicky and claustrophobic. I don’t know if t worked.)

This was inspired by the fact that Jason Todd: Not-So-Outlaw by goawayolivia never answers how Jason came back.

Here is my answer. It is pure dumbassery.

taglist:

@birdy-bat-writes (enabler)

@idkmanicantenglish (sweet heart)

@batarella (Because I honestly blame you for this)

@multifandomgirl-us

@foenixphire

#jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #Jason Todd #angst #My writing #attempts at humor #dc fanfiction #reader insert #imagine #hurt/comfort #kind of #more on hurt #have fun #batboys #batkids

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delimeful · 4 years

Text

or set your teeth against my throat (1)

warnings: vampires, blood, injury, violence, abduction, non consensual blood drinking, depressive thoughts, mild hypnosis, murder mention

Vampires, Roman was finding, seemed to have an even more shit sense of hospitality than he’d previously assumed.

Maybe it was ungenerous of him, considering this was the only coven he’d interacted with up close and personal, but he wasn’t really feeling particularly generous at the moment. When he’d been cornered, isolated from the rest of his pack, he’d expected a quick and valorous death, fighting to the last. Not… this.

Another rock made contact with the bars of his cage, the clang of stone on metal vibrating around him. His ears twitched down to flatten against his skull without his input, and he snarled low in his throat as a jeering laugh rose from the crowd.

As if it wasn’t bad enough, being taken hostage for whatever nefarious purposes they had in mind, bound and muzzled like some common animal, no, they had to parade him through the streets and batter his cage with pebbles and glass and whatever other projectiles the bloodsuckers thought fitting to torment their captive audience with.

None of it could get through the enchantment on the bars, so he wasn't struck, but it was still rough on the ears. And his feelings.

Not that they cared. That was probably the point, actually.

Gathering his resolve, he forced himself to remain still and unflinching as another shard of rock hit the cage and spun away, clenching his hands to keep them from trembling. None of this mattered. It didn’t matter what they did to him, because he would not break. He wouldn’t tell them a single thing about his pack, not one scrap of information.

He would die first, and without regrets.

As it turned out, the coven-- Kin of Æternam, they called themselves-- didn’t seem to care for information. Not a single vampire spoke to him as he was moved further and further into the town, and he couldn’t exactly initiate a conversation himself with a gag in his mouth.

Instead, he watched, and found to no surprise that he didn’t like what he saw.

He’d known many vampires were nomadic, but it was one thing to distantly know and another thing entirely to see the human town around them, half the houses smoldering and the other half looking uncomfortably ransacked. He could see the dark splatters of dried blood along walls or among the dirt, though mercifully it seemed like it had been long enough since their invasion that any remaining human bodies had been cleared away.

Roman didn’t risk interacting with humans often. He knew the tales that were spread about werewolves, and the last thing his tiny pack needed was an angry mob on their tails. Even with his reservations, though, he would never wish something like this upon them. Upon anyone.

The Æternam vamps walked among the ruins casually, as though this was everyday scenery, and Roman supposed that for them, it probably was. Simple routine; find a human settlement, feed to their unbeating hearts’ content, hold revel, and then depart again. Rinse and repeat.

It was enough to turn his stomach, and he was almost grateful when his view of the town was blocked off by their entry into the large stone fort that loomed over all else. Almost.

His opinion of the place went downhill as soon as he saw the ostentatious throne and the vampire sprawled across it, both placed on a literal gilded pedestal. Dark raven hair, corpse-like skin, and glowing red eyes painted the picture of the archetypal tyrant vamp. He found himself strangely disappointed by the lack of originality in the man’s presentation. If he was going to die to a bloodsucker, couldn’t it at least be one with a sense of style?

One of the attendant vamps pulled the door of his prison open, and Roman lunged against his restraints with all his might, snarling past the muzzle. The attendant flinched back, but the iron cuffs that bound him held firm no matter how hard he strained. The vampire on the throne laughed, the way one might at a child throwing a tantrum.

“Oh, you are a spitfire, aren’t you? All the better.”

Roman tried to convey how much this guy’s villain aesthetic sucked with his heated glare alone. He was pretty sure Virgil could have created a better evil persona than this guy in his sleep. At age twelve. While feverish. It was sad, really.

The platitudinous prick-- Roman instantly decided to alternate between very clever and very rude nicknames for the guy in his head-- beckoned, and the attendant unlocked the chain keeping him bolted to the floor of the cage. They proceeded to grab the connecting bar between the cuffs locked around his arms and maneuver him up the steps to the pedestal with probably more force than strictly necessary.

Roman had been riding in that cage for hours, and as such, had time to prepare for a lot of potential scenarios. He grew more and more tense the closer he got to the trite enthroned bastard, mentally readying himself for what was likely to be at best an assault on his person and at worst, a horrifying and gory death.

Instead, he was steered to the side of the throne, and then shoved to his knees, at which point he realized that a horrifying and gory death might not be so bad after all. Because now the attendant was locking his cuffs into a new platform, one that was designed to force him to stay hunched over and kneeling at the side of the throne. He growled, prying at the restraints, but there was little give in the cuffs. He was stuck like this, practically on display for the world to see.

“Perfect, right where a mutt like you belongs,” Vlad the Contemptible smiled sharply, as though proud of his pitiful insult.

Were all vampires this insufferably smug? Like, was it part of the package, along with the dumb looking fangs and the tacky glowing eyes? He was glad that werewolves had eyes that merely reflected light, like the respectable, well-designed creatures of nature they were.

It was possible that Roman was rambling, mentally, a little bit. He wished desperately that he could protest the indignity of it all, denounce these freaks and their humiliating tactics, but in this state, there was little he could do but glare impotently.

The bloodsucker seemed entirely too content to ignore him and his glaring hatred entirely for the next few hours, which confused Roman at first. Clearly, he was still alive for a reason, and he felt as though he’d done more than enough waiting to learn about his fate at this point. Plus, his knees hurt.

At the very least, the pain in the neck on the throne next to him seemed like the type to gloat, so why wasn’t he?

As dusk fell, Roman got his answer. More and more vamps filtered into the wide stone hall, filling the space with their corpse-cold bodies and idle chatter. Once the last bit of sun had faded over the horizon, the Toothed Tyrant slowly straightened up in his seat, drawing all the eyes in the room to him. This was what he’d been waiting for.

What was the point in gloating about your evil deeds without an audience to lavish you in praise for it?

“Kin of mine. As I’m sure many of you have noticed, we have a... guest with us this evening.”

Roman shivered as those icy, glowing gazes moved towards him, jeering or morbidly curious or hungry. He pulled at the chains once more just to have something else to focus on, the shift and clink of the metal drowned out by his rapid heartbeat in his ears. He wondered if the vamps could hear it, too.

The pitiful excuse for a villain was still talking. “... fullest potency once the full moon hits, and our hunt will decide who claims such a reward.” His half-lidded gaze slid over to Roman. “A beast like this one has engaged in plenty of hunts before, I assume? Though, probably not as prey. I’m sure it’ll get used to the sensation eventually.”

Even with the gag, Roman could snarl as fierce as any wolf, and the rumbling growl emanating from his chest made some of the closer vamps lean away.

It didn’t seem to have any effect on the worst human leech of them all. He just smiled in a satisfied sort of way before rising to his feet. “What a rebellious spirit. Perhaps you should save that for the hunt, mutt?”

Think up some new nicknames, you absolute bore, Roman thought at him, just in case those rumors about vampires reading minds were true.

The vamp walked closer, until he was at the edge of the platform and Roman had to crane his head back to see his face.

“Let’s give us both a taste of what’s to come, then.”

Without pause, there were suddenly hands on his shirt, dragging him upwards until the restraints threatened to dislocate something. One moment, he was nearly face to face with the vamp, meeting those eye-searing red pupils. In the next, his vision blurred as sharp pain shot through his neck.

The vamp had sunk its nasty fangs in on either side of his jugular, not deep enough to kill him, but enough that it would only take the slightest twitch of the head for his throat to be ripped right out. His body kept frozen even as he began to choke, his mouth tasting of iron and salt.

There was nothing he could do. He couldn’t escape, couldn’t attack, couldn’t even die until these monsters allowed it. The more he fought and resisted, the tighter their grasp on him would become, and the more he would suffer. It would be better to just give up now, save himself the trouble.

(Why am I… That’s not right--)

Roman only realized the vampire was withdrawing when those sharp teeth finally pulled away carelessly, causing a new wave of pain to roll through him. He automatically tried to reach for his throat, to stem the bleeding, but his bound hands could barely rise a few inches. He bent his head down instead, his pride stinging silently as a cacophony of mockery sounded all around him.

Once his fingers touched flesh, however, he could only feel shallow cuts rather than the gaping wounds he knew should be there. He coughed wetly, and red splattered across his hands, but he could breathe once more. However bad the bite had been, it had healed near instantly.

Of course. It was beginning to sink in that they wouldn’t let him perish that easily.

The vampire king was speaking again, eyes brighter than before, and his words blurred together and slipped away from Roman’s understanding. He could only notice the smear of deep red on the vampire’s face, and shudder where he lay as a chill set into his bones.

Time passed in a haze, marked by the constant flurry of vamp activity in the fort around him, the occasional meal to keep him alive, and his connection to the ever-waxing moon.

He felt a faint sense of concern about the way days seemed to slip away, and also about how far away and hard to grasp the concern itself felt. There was something seriously wrong when the growing light of the moon felt more like an approaching deadline than a relief.

The one other thing marking the time, he would much rather forget. Every night without fail, no matter how he fought, the same vampire would drag him up and plunge dagger-like teeth into his throat, leaving him drained and weak on the cold floor afterwards.

Roman wasn’t a fool; he knew that the bites were the reason he felt so exhausted and fuzzy. He just couldn’t do anything about it. The feeling of helplessness only grew stronger and stronger after each night, and slowly, he began to lose the will to fight the dreary feelings off.

By the time the night before the full moon hit, hope was hard to find.

He was slumped awkwardly against the ground when the door to the chamber creaked open, and the noise jolted him out of his dozing as quick as anything. His muscles went rigid and tense.

The head vamp hadn’t drank from him yet today, having left in the middle of the day with an extensive entourage for… something. It had probably been mentioned in earshot-- they weren’t very careful about what he did and did not hear-- but Roman hadn’t been paying enough attention. Maybe they were scouting out new territory?

Regardless, he had sort of been hoping it would keep the bloodsucker out of his hair for long enough that he could recover even just a bit before… before he ran out of time. So much for that.

To his surprise, there was no trace of the vamp’s normal arrogant strides. In fact, there was barely any sound at all. Roman could only tell that someone was approaching by the shifting of shadows and that dusty undead smell.

Suddenly, there was a cold palm on his arm, and he jerked up with a jagged snarl, his mind screaming at him to do anything to prevent being bitten again. The palm was yanked away instantly, and Roman could see the silhouette of the vamp before him.

It definitely wasn’t the head vamp. Smaller, and with curled hair that reflected the torchlight. He couldn’t see his expression, and his mind still screamed dangerous. His growl increased in intensity as the vamp extended a hand again, but he’d called Roman’s bluff: he had no way to defend himself in the restraints. Whatever the vamp was going to do, he couldn’t stop it.

The vamp’s other hand rose, and Roman couldn’t stop himself from flinching.

It made it all the more surprising when he heard the clank of a key in a lock. His eyes shot open, and to his disbelief, the chain connecting his cuffs to the platform went loose, no longer attached. A moment later, the vamp’s hands were on his cuffs, but rather than grab them and drag him, there was another clank.

For the first time in days, fresh air grazed his wrists. His hands were free.

A surge of adrenaline hit him, and he twisted quicker than the vamp could react, pinning him to the ground with a knee to the abdomen and a hand over his throat. It would keep the creature from getting enough air to call out an alarm. With his other hand, he immediately tore at the muzzle, his nails going claw-sharp to tear through the straps. He spat the remnants of the wretched thing out, and turned his attention to the vamp.

Cold hands curled over Roman’s own, like he wanted to pry the hand off his throat, but other than that, he wasn’t struggling against Roman’s hold. Oddly enough, his chest was rising and falling in an uncanny mimicry of panicked breathing, and even his eyes seemed oddly dark for a vamp. Roman would have thought him a human if not for the unmistakable fangs.

His grip tightened at the reminder. “You’re not getting any more blood out of me,” he growled, his voice rough and crackly. His whole body felt out of practice. If he stood up and bolted, he risked falling flat on his own face, and if he turned and the vamp lunged…

No. Easier to just… just vanquish the vamp so he couldn’t do anything. One less thing to worry about during his escape.

He lifted his other hand, claws pinched together as a makeshift stake. The vampire twitched once, his mouth opening briefly as though to speak, and then seemed to slump. His hands stopped tugging at Roman’s fingers around his neck, and he pinched his eyes closed, bracing for the blow.

Roman frowned. Was this a ploy for sympathy?

He could feel the way the vamp trembled under him, unnaturally lifelike.

… It was an effective one. Shit.

He lowered his hand slowly, loosened his grip, waiting for the moment the stranger dropped the ruse and lunged. It didn’t come. He just kept waiting for Roman to hurt him.

He abruptly felt a little sick to his stomach. He let go of the vamp’s throat. The guy opened one eye slowly, like he thought it was a trick.

“If you get up from this spot, if you even twitch before I’m out of this building, I’ll make sure you regret it,” Roman threatened, a growl under the words and his lip curling up slightly to bare his teeth. “You won’t get mercy twice.”

The vamp’s expression did something complicated (Confusion? Relief? Disappointment?) but when Roman scuttled back, he stayed laid out on the floor, not moving a muscle. Roman let a breath out slowly, some of the tension fading from him. “Well… good. Keep doing that.”

He could practically hear Virgil sighing as his awkwardness overwhelmed any menace his threat might have instilled. It wasn’t his fault he was off-script, okay? This vampire was… weird.

Roman shuffled back a few more steps on weak legs, and then, once he was sure he was far enough away, he let the shift wash over him like a warm breeze. Four unsteady legs were better than two, and if he leaned a little on his instincts, his inner wolf would make his gait mostly smooth. It was a small but invaluable aid as as he sprinted down long, musty halls until he was finally, finally out of that cursed fortress.

Roman was so relieved he could have cried. He was still weak, and his head was still foggy, but he didn't stop until there was finally trees around him and dirt under his feet. As he collapsed, the night air still tasted like victory.

#sanders sides #vampire au #fantasy au #ts roman #ts patton #blood tw #violence tw #hurt/comfort #more comfort next chapter lol #writing #my writing #bthb #or set your teeth against my throat #osytamt #werewolf au #this ones a little dark and sad at first but this is only the first chapter!#murder mention #ok i think thats everything #im tired im taking a break for the rest of the day

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

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Survey #463

“the siren sings a lonely song of all the wants & hungers / the lust of love, a brute desire”

Describe the person that you would like to be in three years. I want my mental health to be in great condition, I really want to be in much better physical shape, ideally be living with somebody in our own place, have a job I'm happy with, have an improved social life, my own license and car... Think back to when you first met your significant other (or ex). Was your first impression of them accurate? It's funny, I honestly don't remember what my first impression of Girt was. I don't even recall our first interaction. I'm sure it was most likely that he was friendly, because he is and always has been. What is your most noticeable personality trait? Probably that I'm really, really shy. What kind of natural disaster is most common where you live? Hurricanes. Which of your family members do you resemble the most? I guess one of my immediate sisters? People tend to say stuff like they can definitely tell we're related. Have you ever had an animal get into your attic? No. Who knows you better than anyone else? Hell, probably whoever reads these. When was the last time you started a “new chapter” of your life? I guess you could call dating Girt a "new chapter." I have a much, much stronger feeling of this attempt being more successful than the last now that I've been able to change my angle on how I see him. What’s the most expensive thing your car needed to get done? I don't have my own vehicle and never have. If you had a thousand dollars to spend on a pricey brand you like but can’t really afford (until now of course), which ONE brand would you choose? *shrug* Most products of highly expensive brands I find hideous anyway. Do you still talk to any of your old teachers? Yeah. One is a close family friend and actually our landlord. Does your family still use the home phone or are you all on cell phones now? We haven't had a landline is yeeeeaaarrrrsssss. Ever go to another school’s prom? No; my boyfriend went to the same school as me. Do you ever venture into the woods? What do you normally do there? No; we live in the city now. :/ When I DID live in the woods, I absolutely loved wandering around with my camera for stuff to take pics of. Does your significant other ever make you mix CDs? None ever have but omg I wish that would be adorable. How did you dress your freshman year of high school? I was one of them emo kids. Would you ever date your best friend of the opposite sex? WELP that's what I'm doing lol. Would you say you have a high sex drive or not so much? I'd call it normal? Higher sometimes, lower other times, but not to either extreme. Come with an unpopular opinion. Silent Hill: Homecoming is a great game and while there's a lot of fan service from the movie, it belongs in the series. It's actually my second (or third)-favorite installment. Most of the SH community absolutely hate that game. What’s the worst thing a friend has either done or said to you? A lot of shit Colleen would say if we got into arguments. She'd ridicule effects of my depression, said I'd never know what it's like to pay my own bills, stuff like that. She's hateful as fuck and everything cut deep. What’s fake about you? Like extensions, fake nails, botox etc. Nothing physical. If you got the chance, would you audition for a reality show? No. Have you ever gotten into a Facebook fight? More than once. What’s the cheesiest thing you’ve ever experienced irl? Hm, I'm unsure. Favorite flavor of jelly bean? Probably watermelon. Do you use Tinder? If yes, have you ever met up with someone you matched? No. You do you, but if I understand Tinder correctly, it just seems... really shallow to me. Like don't you JUST see their picture to decide if you're interested or not? It just enforces the false belief that appearance really matters in love. You just poured your heart out to your crush and all he/she does is respond “k”. What do you respond/do? Well, I don't have a crush anymore; my boyfriend and I literally exchanged "I love you"s last night. That's not a crush. But for the sake of the question, I'll imagine I was single and this happened, in which case I would be both hurt and annoyed. Like, either tell me you return the feelings or not. It's not hard. What's your favorite thing to order from McDonald’s? I usually get a quarter pounder w/ cheese or a McDouble, occasionally with a small or medium fry, depending on how hungry I am. When do you feel your sexiest? Never, hunny. What's your favorite emoji? I don't really have one? It just depends on what the situation calls for. What’s your skincare routine? I don't really have one... I just use a washcloth to clean my face. Who all out of your immediate family smokes? My dad and stepmom. Do you like incense or candles better? Incense, totally. Do you respect your parents? Yeah. What’s your bf/gf’s name? It's technically Donald Jr., but since high school, I've known him as Girt, a nickname I won't explain for his privacy. Do you wear glasses? Yeah. Do you like The Beatles? I honestly don't. Except "Hey, Jude." What was the last reason you got excited? Last night. When we were saying goodbye, I was scared to, but I told Girt I loved him, and he immediately said it back confidently. My heart did like five flips. I'm still over the moon about it. Yes, we just got back together, but we've been in each other's lives as a constant since HS, and after changing my angle of how I looked at him, it's not at all platonic anymore. Do you know anyone who drinks the pickle juice from the jar? Sara does alskdjfklwejrl;er Name something crazy that’s happened recently? Uhhhh... I dunno. My life is very uneventful to have something really "crazy" happen. Can you say for a fact that you’re happy right now? I'm happy about some things, but also nervous and self-doubtful. Have you ever zip lined? No, but they look fun. I'd just be really scared of losing my grip. If you broke your computer, would you be able to fix it on your own? Ha, no. Have you ever been on a boat and got sick? No, but the one time I was at the beach and on a boat riding to an island, I was TERRIFIED I was going to get sick because of the waves. I didn't, thankfully. Did you sleep well last night? For the most part. My new mask might just be working. Do your parents try and plan your life for you? Not at all. Do you have any pictures of you kissing someone? Yes. List two things about yourself that you find embarrassing. My weight and how dark my leg hair is. Do you like to cuddle with your pet when you are sad? Yes. Do you find piercing attractive or unattractive? h o t Do you have any secret hiding spots in your room? To put money, yes. Do you like parmesan cheese on your spaghetti? Ew, no. I don't like parmesan. Does your best girl friend have any talents that you don’t? Yeah. She can animate well, for one. And sing like a fucking champ. Do you have any video game systems in your room? Which one(s)? My Nintendo DS Lite is in here. Well, and my laptop is a gaming one. What color eyes does the last person you kissed have? ... Oh WOW I've known this man for a fuckin decade and somehow I'm not sure??? But I want to say light blue? Have you ever taken a ride in a helicopter? No. Have you ever visited hot springs? No. How slowly or quickly would you say you eat? I'm aware I eat too fast, because my mom will point it out almost without fail if we eat in sight of each other. I'm not a messy eater at all, just... fast. Chewing your food and swallowing isn't a complex task. I've made active efforts to slow down, I just haven't been able to succeed. It doesn't feel normal. That and I've come to discover that when I chew food TOO much, I don't like the mushy texture of it in my mouth. What did you do the last time you were with friends? Yesterday Girt and I planned to watch shitty Netflix anime for some laughs, but we wound up starting Attack on Titan, which I am officially pretty into. What kind of cologne/perfume do you like the opposite sex to wear? I don't care if they wear any or not, so long as they know how to clean themselves and therefore not actually smell bad. If you celebrate Christmas, do you get a real tree or an artificial tree? We always use a fake one. Is there someone who means a lot to you but they don’t know that? My sisters probably don't, really... Is money important to you? Live your whole life poor and I want to see you answer "no" to this. Have you ever watched a meteor shower? No. Do you like Slim Jims? LOOOOOOOVE them. Would you rather write a mystery or love story? Love story. Are you muscular? No. Working for it. Do you have one of those removable hand-held shower heads? Yes. Originally, this house didn't, but I hated it so much that Mom bought one. How many burners does your stove have? Four. Has your car ever been broken into? Mom's hasn't.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''blood milk and sky'' by white zombie

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princeanxious · 3 years

Text

Longish artist/writer rant/vent aimed at my ADHD under the cut bc I needed to get this off my chest-

Rip to every idea I have that my brain demands I make a reality when in the past year I've maybe managed to doodle something at least once a week and maybe managed write something to posting levels of completion once every full moon

Like. If I had it my way I would have whole chapter updates for at least three different major fics each week, and it would rotate between nine major fics each week at least, and be posting one-shots for random one off ideas whenever they came to me.

I spend so much time thinking up of tons of au ideas because i genuinely enjoy them and doing it, and it hurts so much that I am unable to keep up with my creativity no matter how much I want to. Im well aware of burn out, and thr fact that that kind of schedule is pretty unattainable and would result in burn out, but like.

If I could just pick up a fic/chapter that Ive planned out(because ive got a list, and tons of different notes for ideas I want to create but just can't manage to slow down enough to keep focusing on it) and once a week write even just a paragraph, heck, a sentence, or finish a small silly art piece or a doodle, I'd be doing better than I am right now.

This frustration isnt even born from the aspect of 'gotta keep creating content for approval' thing that it usually is, either.

Its a genuine frustration born from the inability to just get my stupidly scattered brain back together. Creating these things, writing them out, drawing them out, I have so many ideas that I want to explore even just for myself to enjoy!

Im pretty sure my brain wouldn't give me countless au prompts, fic ideas, drawing plans, and animatic ideas rent-free every week if I didnt genuinely enjoy exploring it.

I know that I'm not gonna get to explore every idea, but the fact that I have a good number started already that still cling happily to my brain even if its been literal months or even a year since I've posted about them, the fact that they and so many others are so present in my brain and let me get as far and writing the ideas down or getting to the sketch phase, and then whatever it is in my brain that kept nagging me to writing out for the happy chemicals and excitement of sharing it as well as just having physical existance and evidence of an idea that I worked hard on, something that I'm proud of and just.

Like a whisp ungraspable of smoke, that energy or motivation is gone?

And even tho its gone my brain is still screaming at me to continue it, we still want to work on it, we still have so much left undone, we cant stop now! But we cant.

Its like opening a door long enough to feel the breeze or wave at a dog passing by, but trying to open the door all the way to follow and explore only triggers the door to shut tight.

Its like trying to figure out how to get to the other side of a very tall wall. We know that we cant reach the other side of the wall, we have in the past, but sometimes it only makes it grow higher. We know how to do it, to get through the wall, but we know that it takes time and effort and a very specific amount of work to break down the wall, and we know that trying to do tedious tasks that are boring to our brain like that simply creates another wall. Sometimes we're lucky, and we can climb the wall with a burst of energy and ride that energy for all its worth to get to the other side, but then it leaves us exhausted, and climbing the wall will not be an option again for a time.

Its a frustration born from the fact that I know whats wrong with my brain, I do, Ive spent so much of my life with adhd, depression, and anxiety, I've had to learn whats wrong because thats the only way to know how to tackle the issues that they bring.

Its the frustration that despite knowing whats wrong, I still cant make myself face the wall like I know I should. Knowing about it doesnt stop the issue, using effort to adress it does.

And that's where I am. Stuck inside our head, with a creativity in constant flux, and more often than not inability to pick up a pencil to draw, or pull up a keyboard and write. Staring at the wall in our head with the familiarity of being lifelong acquaintances.

#luka rants #prince system #adhd things

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loudlypanickinginvenezolano · 3 years

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Care for you. (Sneak, Sneak.)

Sonic has a bad day. A real bad, and rough day, that lefts him drained and tired in ways he feels are dangerous...

Shadow cant have that, now can he?

Now its a question of wherever Sonic will left him help ride this out, or not...

Soon on AO3!

You can read it under the cut though!

If you squint hard enough you can see some references to depression and/or panic attacks. If I missed something I should have known to tag, please, let me know.

Silence. Solicitude. Calmness. It wasn’t often that Sonic felt such a hard craving for them. That he felt almost a need, such a need so strong it was pretty much breathing down on his neck, and weighing down on his back.

Sonic was tired.

He was oh so tired, so weary to a soul-deep level he tried to not feel so commonly. He really couldn’t afford it, after all, and yet today… today was rough, to call it something.

Battling since early, public appearance all around the place, people screaming, calling his name, cameras being shoved into his face and all… he was used to it, it was…okay, of sorts.

What wasn’t okay was trying to manipulate him. What wasn’t right was using his name to pull people into things that really weren’tokay. What wasn’t right was getting his ears pulled or his body touched or grabbed just because they wanted a rise out of him. To invade his personal space like he didn’t have any kind of right over it anymore. Like it didn’t exist anymore.

What wasn’t right were the set up cameras always waiting for him to mess up.

Always.

The noise.

The fakeness of it all.

The sickening heat.

The hurt on his body.

The ache of his legs.

The pain on his neck and back.

The smoke filling up his nostrils.

The unsavory questions.

The objectifying looks.

It was too much, sometimes.

He ran, and ran, and ran. It felt like ages. It felt like a torture, like if everything was trying to claw out his body and just step on his heart.

His breath was shallow, hitched. His body was sweating, and shivering with an unknown force.

Sonic was tired.

he collapsed on his knees, and then on the soft moss covered ground with barely a sound, gasping with all of his might and trying to get back the feeling on his sore body.

He wasn’t even sure about how much time did he spent like that…he only came to himself when he felt someone approaching, and he had to change his sprawling figure a little, already searching into himself for the last bid of energy into his being so he could flash a smile and wave off any concern or rude question he knew may be on his way.

When he opened his eyes, startled red ones were everything he saw.

It was enough of a shock to had him of all persons spluttering rather unflattering in front of his boyfriend, who fell back on his bottom and was rubbing his eye with his fist, grimacing.

“I am not quite fond of the water plays, hedgehog. Try to keep them to yourself?” he gritted, a disgusted expression clear on his face.

Casual.

“What are you doin-How did you find me?!” Sonic squeaked, blinking furiously and trying to stand on his still jelly like legs. That was, of course, a failure.

Shadow just frowned at him, lifting the basket he held on his hand right on his eye level, half full with things Sonic couldn’t really name, and gesturing at it with this free hand.

Oh.

In Sonic´s defense he… well. He didn’t notice it, honestly, and how was that possible was a serious question he won’t dwell on.

He totally wouldn’t think about what could have happened had it been something AND someone different. Nop.

Not today!

“I was picking up things for dinner and tomorrow breakfast, as I always do, hedgehog. Always. Do. Shouldn’t you know that by now?”

“Yeah but you don’t… you usually don’t… just how late is it?”

Shadow´s frown deepened. “have you hit your head?”

“Aw, C´mon it’s a valid question! I… I…Don’t know for sure, but it is not why I- You were searching for me?” he changed the subject to what was, for him, a more pressing matter, doing the effort on sitting up even if all his body screamed at him to not do, to just lay there.

“Should I have?” Shadow tilted his head, some curiosity on his eyes as he didn’t bother in hide how his eyes trailed down Sonic´s body, searchingly, before looking back at his eyes, arching his eye ridge. “Something I should know?”

“No.” The word was out of his mouth before he ever really thought about it, a small shake that was everything his head could manage at the moment. “There…there really is not, babe. Nothing to worry your pretty head about, kay?” Shifting his weight, he reached out a hand, not minding a bit the slow spreading pain on his upper muscles, actually, it was the last thing on his mind right now. How could he stop to think about the annoying sensation when all of his focus was on the hybrid in front of him, a tender smile in those lips he adored so much as Shadow rubbed his cheek against his palm, letting him cradle his face with no complain. Damn.

He loved Shadow´s smiles.

“Up?”

“Whatever you wish.” Shadow´s hand came up as well, holding his still just so he could twist a bit and left a little kiss on his palm and then his knuckles, not paying mind to Sonic´s blush or the little burns or scratches littered on his skin. He didn’t comment, and didn’t ask neither.

Sonic thought he loved him a little bit more than before.

With barely a move, now the both of them were standing, Shadow´s arm finding its way around Sonic´s body, steadying him while holding him close, as finally, the hedgehog was able to plant a kiss on his forehead. “Sorry, I pulled you too hard.”

“…No biggie.”

Thing was…He didn’t. it was him the one at fault. The one that needed a second to find his right footing even now, as he felt his boyfriend kiss his cheekbone, and then his cheek. They just waited, for what? Shadow wasn’t sure, and he didn’t think Sonic knew it, neither, but they did, just breathing in, holding each other as the azure leaned more and more on him...until suddenly they weren’t, each taking a step back in synchrony.

Sonic stretched, glaze on the far away trees.

Shadow crouched, setting his basket in the ground so he could pick up the ingredients that fell off.

A peach bared hand was firmly perched on a dark shoulder, though, and a gloved one rested on top of it, quietly.

Neither talked for a while, content just as they were. Comfortable.

It really wasn’t something to scoff at in their life styles.

However, the sun was starting to go down, and the skies were darkening with quite the speed, suspicious raising in Shadow´s stomach as he eyed the gloomy clouds he could see.

They needed to move.

Straightening up once more, Shadow took Sonic´s hand off his shoulder, holding it to his lips so a small tender kiss could be laid on the [Wounded. Sonic is wounded.] appendage, softly lowering it and letting it go, despite his lover´s pout and confusion.

A small flicker towards the rain clouds ahead of them, and Sonic eyes cleared slightly in understanding. Good.

He started to walk away, calm, slowly, studying the plush greenery around him with scientific dedication, stopping from time to time to sniff at a few, or rub a single leaf between his fingers, sometimes taking a few and setting in inside his basket, sometimes taking the time to scribble down a few words after looking around.

If Sonic noticed or doubted his slow pace, he didn’t say something, focused in the ground at his feet, making sure the rain was still far, and trying to keep up with the ebony steps.

If he noticed Shadow´s lingering glances, he ignored them.

Shadow was okay with silence.

“I take it I was close to the house, then?”

But…maybe Sonic was not. Part of him was growing restless, and he kind of half hoped his boyfriend would suddenly propose to Chaos control away.

Usually he would say no. He knew that. even when tired, or slightly wounded.

Running, even walking, always gave him a rush. Life.

He was so tired though. He almost didn’t want to think of it at all…

“You would be quite right, dear.” A silence. Ruby eyes snapped to his left, getting lost in the deep mess of foliage. His words were also lost, apparently. Sonic could almost see the gears on his brain working overtime. “I take it you weren’t planning on coming home?”

Home…

Well. It was curious that from all the places he could have ended in he so casually found himself that close to Shadow´s house.

To home.

Yeah. He liked that word. It was especially lovely coming out of Shadow´s lips. It was especially lovely knowing that the dark hero saw him as part of that home.

“How could I not, Hn?! Wouldn’t have missed it for nothin´!” He assured, and this time the smile that grazed his lips came easily to him. It came with life, and love, and Shadow didn’t have any kind of shame at the way he marveled at it, before a small yet equally heartfelt smile formed on himself.

I adore you, it seemed to say. Thank you, it seemed to scream.

The dark hero looked away for a moment, bottom lip softly held between his teeth. He was happy. Sonic could tell. He was so happy and the only thing they did was smile at each other.

How simple, wasn’t it?

Sonic wasn’t happy. He didn’t think he was. But it was an improvement, that was for sure. Like calm was finally edging into his consciousness, closing, and closing in.

It was a good feeling.

In a way, he was happy to had it. He was happy to have Shadow with him.

He still felt tired. But it was okay.

Once home he was going to rest. And then maybe he wouldn’t feel so bad afterward.

It was going to be okay.

#Yeah sorry.#Sonadow #Fluff #God I love my grandpa but he surely loves to talk and drive me up the walls when I need it the least #Sonic fanfiction #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #sth #Be kind with yourself

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written-inthe-clouds · 4 years

Text

Twilight rewrite Part 2

I am starting a new post for the rest of the rewrite because the other was getting WAY too long! Hope you guys like this! I debated if I wanted to include Edward’s POV, but I think it added a lot to it. Obviously I don’t know how Smeyer plans on writing for him, but I think the voice I gave him felt pretty true to character.

Chapter 2 Part 2

Bella’s POV

I was gently woken from my coma like sleep by the smell of bacon and pancakes. I rolled over, only to be struck by the realization that there was someone next to be last night, but now her spot was vacant. I pushed myself out of bed, making my way to the smell, finding Alice standing in the kitchen, setting a plate on the table for me.

“Morning! I figured you’d want food before we left, and I’ve been up so I thought, why not cook.” her voice was much too cheery for the morning in my opinion, but she made food, so the good outweighed the bad. I slumped into my chair, slathered my food in syrup, and began to eat. I couldn’t remember the last time someone made me pancakes. Alice wore a satisfied smile across her face and she sat down to join me.

It didn’t take either of us long to get ready to head to school. I generally wore jeans and whatever t shirt was closest to me in my closet since a rain jacket hid it anyway. I loaned Alice a shirt so she wouldn’t have to wear the exact outfit she had worn the day before. She offered to drive us both to school, and I didnt see a reason to protest. The ride was fairly silent, but a comfortable silence. Paramore softly played in the background as we made our way through the light rain. She mentioned that the rain was going to pick up today and had thought my truck might not be up for the slick roads. I was still shocked at the amount she seemed to care for me, but I got the feeling she was just a very nice person in general.

When we pulled into the parking lot, it was fairly full. She pulled into an empty spot next to a silver volvo, where I saw who I know understood were her siblings. Rosalie turned to face us, with a forced smile on her face. The rest of them seemed unbothered by my presents, until I got out of the car.

Alice went down the line and introduced me to each of the boys. The one she was with, Jasper, looked as if he had just bitten his lip. His brows were pulled together and I could have sworn he was holding his breath. He had sandy blonde hair and had tanned skin and muscles that seemed like what you might get from working outside a lot. The biggest of the boys, Emmett smiled widely and offered a wave. He towered over the others and had dark brown hair. He was tanned like Jasper, but not quite as much, and his muscles definitely seemed like the kind he spent hours working on. The last one, Edward, wore an odd expression. It seemed like he was trying to figure out where he knew me from, or maybe he was just incredibly annoyed with Alice for bringing me into their group. I couldn’t quite tell. His hair was a reddish brown that sat in a mess of loose curls on his head. He was much more pale than his brothers, but he also had a muscular build. He was a little taller than Jasper, but seemed so much younger in the face. There was a softness to him, even with his less than happy expression. I tried not to stare too hard, but as I looked them all over, I realized that their eyes were all varying shades of golden brown. Edwards were the darkest, but they all seemed to be just a few shades off from one another, which stuck out to me simply because only two of them were related by blood.

“I better head to class. Thanks for the ride, Alice.” I took the pause after the introductions as my way out. I wasn’t offended that none of them seemed to have anything to say to me, because honestly I wasn’t sure what to say to any of them either. Alice had been nice, coming to hangout with me, but I didn’t want to just insert myself into their group, especially since everyone was paired off but Edward. I was fine being alone, and I was ready to go back to that.

Edwards POV

Alice had asked us to all wait for her in the parking lot. I wasn’t sure why she was doing all of this. She insisted on helping Isabella Swan, and I understood it to an extent, but what I didn’t understand was why we all had to suddenly be involved. She had called me last night, telling me she thought Bella needed a better group of friends, but I informed her that we shouldn’t be that group. Rose was right. We couldn’t risk our family’s safety by taking in a human. I respected Alice for wanting to help her, but there was a line.

I had seen Bella around school before, just in passing. She always wore muted colors and had her head in a book or looked at her feet as she walked. Alice talked often about her visions of Bella becoming more and more depressed, and had even shared them with me. I felt for her situation, but I left the helping to Alice. I wasn’t about to stick my nose in human business, especially when the human didn’t really seem to want help.

When Alice’s car pulled up next to us, we all braced ourselves in our own way. Jasper immediately held his breath, being the newest to our lifestyle. Rosalie tried her best to seem happy, and Emmett - Well Emmett just smiled. He didn’t mine Alice’s mission, and even said he had felt bad for Bella. It wasn’t that any of the rest of us lacked compassion, but Emmett was the most childlike of us all. He wore his feelings on his sleeve, unlike me. Who tried to forget the human emotions that plagued me.

Bella got out of the car, and I immediately listened for her thoughts. I wanted to know what she thought of us. Thought of Alice. I hoped that Alice had been discrete, but I wasn’t sure what Bella might have picked up on. I waited, trying to find her voice, but there was nothing. I tried to tune the others out, thinking that their thoughts were simply too loud, but there was nothing.

My visions changed, but I’m worried it will change back. We both know that one night isn’t going to save her. Play nice. Alice’s voice practically screamed in my head. I nodded in her direction, but immediately turned my attention to Bella. Her long, brown hair was tucked behind one ear, the other side framed the side of her slim, slightly rounded face. She must have not spent much time outside in Phoenix because she was about as pale as I was. There wasn’t anything that particularly stood out about her features, but I couldn’t deny the natural beauty she held.

I tried not to stare too intensely at the poor girl. She seemed incredibly uncomfortable, and quickly excused herself. The whole time she was walking away, I tried to catch something. Maybe her voice was quiet. Maybe I wasn’t listening hard enough, distracted by my own thoughts or Alice’s. Nonetheless, I couldn’t hear anything.

“Wow. Way to play nice. None of you said anything! Thanks for the help you guys.” Alice’s voice dripped with sarcasm. She shot me a menacing glance. What’s your problem?

“I couldn’t hear her thoughts.” I said flatly. Still confused by what had just happened. You didn’t hear anything? Like nothing at all? Are you sure? Alice paused, wondering if I was joking.

“Maybe she wasn’t thinking about anything.” Emmett said out loud, causing all eyes to turn on him. Idiot. Rosalie thought to herself. I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. Is he serious? Alice asked me. Dear lord Jasper moaned.

“Emmett. That’s not how that works. You can’t just not think. You’re always thinking about something, even if you aren’t actively trying to.” I tried my best to not let the implied idiot slip through my explanation. No one but Alice could truly begin to understand how my gift worked, so I understood his confusion. It was still amusing.

I now had a mission, not too much different from Alice’s. I needed to figure out what was going on with Bella. I had to know why I couldn’t read her mind, so I decided I’d try to, from a distance, listen to those around her and see if I could pick up on something. Some people’s voices were soft and didn’t break through the louder ones. I also didn’t know her well, so that would also make it hard to hear. No matter the reason, I wanted to figure it out. I wanted to know more about her.

Bella’s POV

The day passed like every other, until lunch. As I was in line getting food, Alice practically materialized next to me. I was lucky I didn’t jump out of my skin.

“Sit with us?” she asked, though she was practically pulling me towards her family’s table. I supposed sitting in silence at a different table couldn’t really hurt. When I walked past my usual group, I could feel their eyes following me to the Cullen’s table. Alice sat next to Jasper and gestured for me to sit in the open seat next to Edward. The only seat left. As I took my seat, I saw Edward shift slightly away from me out of the corner of my eye. I took a quick scan of all of their faces, trying to see if I had imagined their eyes all being so similar. I hadn’t.

“How’s everyone's day going?” Alice started up the conversation. A low chuckle left Edward’s lips, though I wasn’t sure what he was laughing at. Alice shot a glare in his direction that caused him to sit up slightly in his seat.

“Pretty good.” I decided to speak up first, not wanting to seem rude. “Just normal stuff I guess. Trying to remember if I have my old paper on Chaucer from last year so I don’t have to write a new one.”

“How are you settling in? Are you liking Forks?” Edward’s voice was low, so low it seemed as if he were whispering. I sat there for a moment before I realized he was waiting for my response. His voice caught me off guard. It was deep and melodic, but there was something about how he looked at me when he spoke, like he wasn’t sure if I would hear him. His jaw was clenched, and his face held a puzzled look. I couldn’t deny how handsome he was, but tried to focus on his words and nothing more.

“I like it fine, I guess. It’s basically the same as it was when I was a kid. Just weird to be back here. Weird to be in the rain all of the time.”

“You don’t like the rain.” he wasn’t asking. He reiterated my statement back to me as if to verify it. I nodded back, not sure what else to say. Edward shifted in his seat, and looked to his siblings, waiting for someone else to speak I supposed. “Forks isn’t all bad. There isn’t a ton to do around here, but it's kind of a make your own adventure. Lots of places to hike and play ball.” Emmett’s voice was gruff but kind. Rosalie smiled when he spoke and placed her hand on his. I had thought the whole dating foster siblings thing would be weird, but they seemed to really care for one another. It was clear even in such a small action.

“You guys play sports a lot?” I asked Emmett. I should have guessed that hiking and general outside activities would be his type of thing.

“Oh yeah. Especially baseball. Like I said, not much to do, but there's a whole lot of woods to explore.”

“Aren’t there like, bears and stuff in the woods? I’d be too scared to spend much time out there.” apparently my comment was amusing because each of them broke into quiet laughter. I obviously missed the joke. “What? Are bears not scary here or something?”

“It’s just a very city thing to say.” Edward was still chuckling to himself. “How much time did you spend here as a child?”

“Some Christmases when I was little. Every summer until I was a teenager and got tired of it. I didn’t like going back and forth and then my mom got sick and died so.” Edward immediately looked down at his hands. I realized I had come across a little harshly considering he had only been joking around before about the bears. Maybe I was more city than I realized, but I was embarrassed to have the whole table laugh at me.

“I’m sorry. I heard about your mother. That must have been very hard for you.” Edward’s eyes were locked on mine. I felt my breath hitch in my throat. His voice was soft and kind. He seemed genuinely concerned that he had struck a nerve.

“It’s fine. Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m just a blunt person.” I let out a small laugh, remembering how much my mom used to tell being blunt was just a nicer way of saying I was being rude. She wasn’t wrong.

“Blunt is good. Just means you’re honest.” Edward smiled a crooked smile at me and I couldn’t help but smile back. I felt a wash of comfort as I looked into his face. He didn’t seem to mind my little snap, and neither did the rest of them. I remember that they had all lost their parents somehow, so maybe they were just the people to say that kind of thing to.

The bell sounded, signaling the end of lunch. I wrapped up my untouched sandwich so I could sneak it into my next class and got up from the table. I looked over to see Jessica’s eyes locked on me, undoubtedly waiting to hear every detail. I turned to say goodbye to the Cullens, and Edward was looking at Jessica, trying hard to hide a smile. Maybe he liked Jessica, and was wanting to talk to me to get to her. I couldn’t think of a better reason for him to have taken an interest in me. Other than to be nice to Alice.

“I’ll meet you outside your last class, okay.” Alice rested her small hand on my shoulder and flashed a sweet smile. I couldn’t help but feel we were already close friends despite the fact that I didn’t generally make friends quickly. But I already felt a sense of comfort around her, especially now. I nodded in agreement and headed off to class.

The minute I walked into Biology, Jessica was waiting to pounce. She wasn’t even in the class with me, but I guess she couldn’t wait to hear about my lunch with the Cullens.

“So what is up?” her voice was eager.

“What do you mean?” I wasn’t sure what part she was most interested in, the fact that I sat with the family or the fact that, from an outside perspective, it looked like I was there to be with Edward.

“The Cullens? You sat with them! How did that happen?” she sounded annoyed that I didn’t just start from the beginning like she would have.

“Oh uh, Alice came over last night to work on homework and it got late so she slept over and then she invited me to eat lunch with them. Nothing crazy.”

“She came to your house? And spent the night? I don’t think I’ve ever seen the Cullens talk to anyone else since they moved here. I mean, they just all seem so shy, I didn’t think they’d ever ask someone to sit with them.” Jessica was breathless as she worked through the mystery of the Cullens in her mind.

“She’s really nice.” I defended, not liking Jessica’s implication that the Cullens were too rude to talk to anyone. Someone like Jessica didn’t realize how hard it was to lose a parents, and they had each lost both of theirs. It changes you. It certainly changed me.

“Oh I mean, yeah. I didn’t think she was mean or anything. Just odd.” Jessica backed off a little. This was the most we had ever spoken, and I think she understood I was equally as weirded out by Alice’s sudden interest in me. “One more question though, were my eyes deceiving me or was Edward Cullen like, making eyes at you the whole time?”

“I can wholeheartedly tell you you’re wrong there.” I couldn’t help but laugh at the thought, “He asked me how I liked Forks and that was pretty much it.” I decided to leave out the dead mom talk of it all.

“Are you sure because he hardly took his eyes off of you. God, isn’t he beautiful?” Jessica leaned in and whispered as Mr. Banner walked in. “I highly doubt that, Jessica.” I began to take my seat, hoping she’d take that as a signal that the conversation had run its course.

“You do think he’s cute! You’re totally blushing.” she gushed louder than I would have liked her to, causing my cheeks to flush more.

“I’m not blind, okay. Yeah he’s pretty, but he was just being nice. I can promise you.” I whispered, hoping it was quiet enough that even Jessica might have trouble hearing me. Mr. Banner directed her to head to class, and she giggled as she ran from the room, leaving me behind red faced and a little annoyed.

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hadenodom-stories · 3 years

Text

Clair’s Voyage, Part 1

Clair woke up in a cold sweat. There was no light breaking through her open window, and her heavy dark Navy curtains made no noise as they wavered in the summer wind. It was the 5th of July, and she was freaking out. Have you ever had a dream that stays on your mind and colors your mood for an entire day? Clair had just endured the second such dream in as many nights.

Regardless of the dread her dream had instilled in her, she knew she had to get up and moving. Yesterday's dream had nearly sapped her of all of her energy, and her friend Elaine had noticed at the neighborhood 4th of July cookout. "I've never seen you in such a foul mood", she'd remarked. She couldn't let that happen today. She had a very important interview, and her entire future potentially hinged on it. She couldn't be in a dour, depressed state -- 'Then I'll have to fake a smile', she thought, 'and I'm absolute shit at that'.

Despite a grim determination to force herself into a better mood, she found herself dwelling on the previous day's events as she trudged through the hallways of her quiet house towards the kitchen. By the time she was sitting down, her head full of frizzy auburn hair slumped forward beholding the sight of a depressing bowl of some "healthy" cereal that'd been sitting in the cupboards well past its expiration date, her mind was busy replaying and reliving the most traumatic part of that day. The part that she'd seen before in a nightmare just hours before it happened in real life. The part of the day that was at first clouded in a sense of Déjà vu -- a surreal "I've seen all of these events, in this exact order, before..." sense -- until it burst into traumatic realness. The pops and whizzes of fireworks zooming into the sky. The cheers of the neighborhood kids as one particularly bright, low, and loud firecracker exploded. Her younger brother looking at her with a cheeky "watch this" expression as he prepared to light a cobbled-together collection of old fireworks that he'd taped together and put into a small pipe to launch. His uncomprehending, still-excited face as the spark ran along the fuse far too fast and the pipe began to tilt back towards him. The flash and screams afterwards. And everything going black once she saw the blood and exposed bone. Once she realized how bad it might be...

She neatly placed her spoon back on the table and stood up. 'No way I can fucking eat now', she thought. As she walked out onto the back patio and tossed the now-soggy cereal out into the yard for the local cats to enjoy, she remembered her mom's instructions:

"Look, go home. Just go home. You heard the doctor, honey. He's going to be alright. They're doing their best. We won't be able to see him for quite a while. I'll stay here for now. Just go home and sleep in your own bed. Get you mind off of it and come back when you're able."

Clair slammed the patio door shut behind her, furious now. She understood that her mother wasn't exactly a master of emotional understanding or empathy, but how could she be so fucking stupid? How could her mom just think that she'd be able to go home and be comfortable knowing her brother was in surgery, having seen what happened to him? 'I'm an adult now, but goddamn, how do I even process this on my own? How do I just move on with my life? How can she expect me to just go home, forget all about it, and then get ready for this interview?"

She continued to ruminate and curse her mother's lack of empathy - or at least the kind of empathy Clair expected - as she lazily got ready for her interview. It was only 5 AM and her interview wasn't until 9, but there wasn't anything else to do and she certainly couldn't go back to sleep. She was going to put on a frightfully awful dress - she hated dresses - with a pair of shiny black businesslike pumps - which she also loathed - and apply more makeup than usual, and then go spend a couple of hours at the hospital trying to get an update on her brother's situation. 'I'll go ahead and let mom know that I can't handle this on my own while I'm there', she thought. 'She won't care, but I'll let her know'

In her old, grey Civic hatchback with the paint peeling, she barely focused on the road or on driving. The static-filled dulcet tones of an NPR reporter reciting headlines momentarily calmed her, but she wasn't processing any of the words. She was just busy thinking of what she could remember from last night's dream. It was a mess - all she could remember was some boy she barely recognized (but couldn't place) talking to her mother, and her mother suddenly displaying more emotion than Clair had ever seen from her - but she still wasn't able to actually identify the emotion her mother was feeling in the dream. Something like shock - or confusion - or betrayal - or all of those. Clair tried in vain to figure out who the boy in the dream was - his face looked very familiar, but she couldn't remember where, other than the dream, she'd seen him. And as for what emotion her mother had been reacting with or what the boy had been telling her mother, she was at a complete loss. Her eyes flashed upon a sign and her brakes squealed. Lost in thought, she'd almost missed the exit for the hospital.

The hospital was a tiny rural hospital on the edge of town, a decaying building full of old doctors and young underpaid nurses, kept alive on a shoestring budget despite the exorbitant prices it charged you for the simple privilege of remaining alive. Clair was sure that her mom wasn't ready for any of the financial burden her brother had just incurred -- at least not on the meager retirement checks and alimony they'd subsisted on since her dad had left. Walking into the main waiting room, she was mentally prepared to hit her mom hard with three questions: "How is he?", "When can I see him?", and "You're not going to make me stay at the house by myself for another night". The last one wasn't a question, but she expected, at the very least, her mother's acknowledgement. Instead, she was met by the face from her dream - the unfamiliar boy - walking out of an empty waiting room. She couldn't help but stop in her tracks and stare at him. "You're Micheal's sister, right?", the boy said, seemingly unphased by her glare. "Yes", she finally managed to respond. "He's not here anymore", the boy replied.

"What?"

"They took him to a hospital in Jacksonville. He's stable. Your mom didn't call you and tell you?"

"No..."

"Oh, well. They left about 30 minutes ago. He's stable, but your mom's kind of a wreck. I stayed to meet up with his friend Lisa who wants to ride with me to Jacksonville. He's going to go into another surgery to try to save his face and they said he'll probably be ready for visitors by later tonight."

'This is absurd', Clair thought. 'How can this random boy know more about my brother's situation than me. How could my mom be so detached as to not tell me any of this? And I'll be goddamned if anyone's going to finally visit my brother's hospital room before me'

"You can ride with us if you'd like", the boy offered.

"No, thanks, I actually have to drive to Jacksonville this morning anyways. I have an interview at 9..."

"Say no more... I guess I'll see you there"

With that, the boy walked past her. She turned and followed him outside. "So... who are you?"

"Oh, we've met before I think. I'm Cavill, Micheal's... we're friends. I've been here since last night worried sick about him. I guess your mom wanted you to be home so you wouldn't worry yourself sick like her."

"Fat lot of good that did", Clair replied drearily. "And yeah, we have met... Micheal just never bothers to introduce his friends to us. I guess he gets that from mom, the habit of keeping everyone at a distance"

"Cigarette?" Cavill was holding out a crumpled pack of smokes. It was odd to think that anyone Micheal hung out with smoked -- to Clair, she couldn't think of her brother as anything but a kid. Hell, she had a hard time calling herself an "adult"

"No thanks", she replied, waving sheepishly.

"I quit like a month ago - most on your brother's insistence. But sitting here waiting last night and stressing out... I just couldn't do it. I went and bought a pack of smokes. Micheal would be ashamed of me."

"Don't say that. I've never known Micheal to be anything but supportive"

"Yeah, but he..." Cavill's voice trailed off as he began to choke up. "He's the only person that really ever cared, you know? And I care about him too. I don't want to let him down." A single tear ran down his cheek.

Clair was at a complete loss. She always came to a complete loss when anyone cried or became vulnerable around her. 'I guess I'm not too unlike my mother', she thought.

"You won't. You know he talks about you sometimes? The other day he told me that you're learning guitar and that you're pretty good"

"I'm not, and he knows it. He just..."

She wasn't sure why Cavill was trailing off now. She'd met friends of her brother's before, but something was different in the way Cavill talked about his bond with Micheal. What was it?

Suddenly, some neurons firing in her brain or some semblance of emotional intelligence came to her, and it made sense. Months before, Micheal had confessed to her that he was in a relationship but said it was a secret and refused to give her any more details. It'd annoyed her at the time - she hated secrets in any form and saw them as puzzles or riddles that she needed to solve - but now, with her brother's somewhat-secretive friend quietly crying over a cigarette in front of her, an uncomfortably vulnerable figure, she felt like she was close to unraveling this particular puzzle. She eyed Cavill again, taking him in. He was a bit taller than her brother, and thinner. His hair was golden-brown and jettisoned out from his head at odd angles, like some sort of anime character's. His face didn't quite match it - soft angles, a small button of a nose, and thin lips. Blue eyes. He looked absolutely sad, and she couldn't stand to leave him here on his own.

"You're going to Jacksonville, right?", she said.

"Yeah, but I'm waiting for Lisa, remember? She's my ride"

"Well, you can ride with me if you want. I'm going right now."

"That's probably more convenient. Lisa lives between here and Jacksonville and hasn't even left her house yet".

"Well, I'll make some room in my car. And I have an interview later on, so I won't be able to give you a ride back until after lunch"

"That's okay, I'm staying at the hospital for the day if I can help it"

Clair looked at Cavill, who'd extinguished his cigarette between his fingers and was starting to walk behind her towards her car. "Go wash you hands and splash some water on your face", she said. "I don't want the smell of cigarettes in my car, and besides, you look tired"

Cranking her car, her head disappeared in thought again. What was the meaning of the dream she'd had the night before? What kind of secret life had her brother been living? Who is this Cavill kid she's seen around who's suddenly very attached to her brother? Why would her mom not tell her that her brother had been taken to a hospital an hour's drive south for surgery? What was Cavill telling her mom in the dream she'd just had, and why did it make her mom so... upset?

She couldn't sit there with her thoughts for a second longer, so she reached for the pair of pliers in the center console and used them to twist the metal stub on which her car radio's volume knob had once rested. The dulcet tones of the NPR announcer now filled the silence:

"Next on NPR: We talk to an experimental psychologist about a new study on the phenomenon of apparently precognitive dreams. Can dreams predict the future?"

Not even NPR was going to give her a moment of escapism.

=============================================

This is part one of my unfinished series about a girl named Clair whose dreams begin to mirror reality (sounds fun until it happens to you!), which for now is going to be titled “Clair’s Voyage”. I started writing a story along these lines, with much less detail, a few years ago until it was apparent that I was writing a longer story than I’d set out to write. At that time, I just saved the draft but left it unfinished. Now, I’m adding more details and breaking it out into different parts. It may become a book by the time I’m done. Clair, you see, is an aspiring psychiatrist - she loves studying the mind and how it works - but right now she’s just trying to struggle through community college and get a job as a secretary at the local psychiatric hospital. She’s also trying to struggle with the traumatic events surrounding an eerie July 4th, on which her brother was grievously injured in a scene that played out exactly how it had played out in her nightmare the night before. With her brother’s boyfriend, Cavill, at her side, she’s about to embark on a journey of discovery and empowerment filled with ups and downs and unspeakable trauma. So be sure to tune in for the next Part of Clair’s Voyage.

#Clair's Voyage #short story #tumblr fiction #writeblr #writing #creative writing #psychology #dreamscape #dreams #nightmares #amwriting #ya #hadenodom stories

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havethetimeofyourstyles · 4 years

Text

Lovin’ You’s the Antidote

Just in case, trigger warning for mentions of: depression, anxiety, family issues/abandonment.

*gif not mine*

“You look amazing.” Harry says as he gives you a hug and a kiss on the side of your head.

You were wearing a simple black top, jeans, and loafers. You were a simple girl, and that’s what Harry likes most about you.

You blush and look down, fixing your hair. “Thank you. You look great as well.” He was wearing long cream flared pants with a black t shirt. His hair looked amazing as always; his curls seeming much more curlier than usual.

You were a quiet girl. Not shy per se, you just don’t talk much; you’d rather listen. It takes a lot for some people to break you out of your shell. And as much as you like Harry, your feelings for him don’t differ than anyone else. You’ve had a hard time trusting people in the past and you just don’t want to get your heart broken.

Harry is somewhat frustrated with that because he knows you don’t talk much. He wants to get to know you, like really get to know you. He hasn’t even gotten to kiss you yet because of how closed off you are, and it’s been four dates with about four hangouts on the side for about two months. But you’ve let him kiss you on the cheek and forehead, but never where he really wants to kiss you.

And it’s not like you don’t talk to him at all. You’ve told him basic things he needed to know about you like hobbies, where you work, favorite food, your favorite time of the day, etc., but you never go deeper than that. He is still glad that you’re there to listen. Some people in the past always seem to brush off what he says or talk over him, and he’s happy that you don’t complain about him talking.

Harry knew you were a simple person. You’ve told him that you’d much rather prefer sitting in a park rather than a fancy restaurant, and he appreciated that. It was definitely different than the other girls he’s dated, but he never told them that he’d rather have a nice and quiet conversation somewhere secluded than bringing them out to a fancy restaurant where paps are involved.

So he took you to a hole-in-the-wall sandwich shop that you knew you would appreciate more. He liked that about you; how you were always so appreciative of the little things and supportive of the small local vendors that some people in LA wouldn’t think twice about going to.

As you two were looking over the menu, you mentioned how you briefly saw Gemma walking down the streets when she was in town, but you didn’t go up to her because you felt as if it were awkward and you were nervous, obviously, and you’ve never met her before, just know how she looks like because of the pictures Harry has shown you.

“Ahh, you’re fine. She’s the second kindest woman I know, right behind my mum, of course. So, no need to be nervous. They do know that I’m seeing someone, however. But they’re the sweetest people you’ll ever come to know. I’m actually quite excited about going up there for the holidays and all that. Mum makes this amazing roast that I’ll have to get you to try, and our family friends come over or we go to their house, and we do a family game night, which I take pretty seriously as I’m the competitive kind of player. But everyone is super lovely and we have an amazing time together. If you’re up for it, you can come with! I’ll have to ask mum and everyone else of course, but I’m sure they’ll love more company.” Harry ends his ramble with a smile, knowing as if he was talking a bit too much. And although, you don’t mind it, you love hearing Harry talk, you’re a bit overwhelmed with everything.

“That all seems very lovely.” You say with a nervous smile and look down at your menu, completing ignoring his offer about going with him to his family’s. Harry notices and decides to change the subject.

“So… what about you? Going to your family’s-”

“Stop. Just stop.” You interrupt.

“Sorry?” Harry asks confused as he sensed your switch in moods.

“You’ve always asked about my family ever since the first date and I don’t answer the question. Don’t you get the hint that I don’t want to talk about them or…?” Harry gulps, not knowing what to say.

“I’m sorry. Truly I am. It’s just that… we’ve been on four dates already and hung out multiple times, and I still feel like I don’t even know you yet.”

“Well, sometimes it’s best that way, don’t you think?” You say rather harshly and Harry sighs. You close the menu and Harry looks at you. “Do you mind taking me home?”

“Look, I’m sorry if I overstepped-”

“I’m just not in the mood to eat right now. Can you take me home please? Or I can call an Uber.” Your eyes welled up, and he feels bad for pressing the subject.

“No, no. I’ll take you home.” Harry got up from his seat and put a $20 bill out on the table even though you didn't order anything.

The car ride was silent. Tension filled the car quick once you two got in and you wanted to jump out ever since. You’re sure this is the longest car ride you’ve ever been in, even though you live about 15 minutes away from the shop.

Once the car stops, you’re quick to open the door and get out. You look at him for possibly the last time because you think he probably won’t want to see you again. “Thanks for the ride.” You say and shut the door. You quickly walk to your front door, but Harry calls out for you.

You turn around and see him hunched over with the middle console with the passenger window open. “I’m hoping someday you’ll be able to trust me and open up. But if not, then I understand. But I’m sorry again.” You nod and give him a sad smile and proceed to turn around to open the door. Once you’re in, you see Harry still there, watching you go inside. You give him a small wave, which you don’t even know if he can see that far, and close the door. You look out your window behind the curtain and see him finally drive off, sighing to yourself because of how that ended.

“I mean, he was—is a great guy. But I really think that was our last date— I don’t know if that counts as a date because it ended right when it started, and I screwed up something that could have possibly been a long term thing.” You sighed.

“You didn’t screw it up. You don’t even know if he never wants to see you again, but I think you should let him in, yknow?” You hear your sister speak through the phone.

“I don’t know…” you debate as you look up at your ceiling while you’re spread across the whole bed.

“Listen, lil sis. You can’t keep comparing the people that’s current in your life to the people from your past. They’re in the past for a reason. Harry seemed like a great guy since the moment you called me after your first date, and he seems to care a lot about you. C’mon… take that chance and move forward.” You know she’s right (and that’s not because she’s a therapist). “You’ve been trapped and you’re waiting for the right time to unlock yourself from the cage, but you’re the only one with the key.”

“Call him, okay? I’ve gotta go, but keep me updated on the wedding plans!” She teases and you can’t help but crack a smile.

“Oh shut up.”

It’s been two days since the last time you saw him, and you found yourself on his doorstep, waiting for yourself to knock and face him. You were going to give it a week, but you couldn’t keep sitting at your apartment and drown in the guilt that’s kept you up.

As you raise your hand to knock, the door swings open, revealing Harry who makes you go weak in the knees.

“Oh, hey.” He says in surprise. “I didn’t know you were stopping by.”

“Y-Yeah. Sorry, I should’ve called.”

“No worries. What brings you by?”

“I was wondering if you were busy so we could talk?” You look down, waiting for his rejection. Of course he’s busy, you think, he was already on his way out.

“No, no. I was just on my way to get some groceries at the market, but I can do that later. Did you want to come in?” Your eyes widen.

“Uh, do you want to go down to the beach?” Harry thinks and wonders why you’d rather go out.

“Yeah, sure. Your car or mine?”

“I actually walked here, so if you don’t mind-”

“You walked? That’s like a 20 minute walk and I’m on top of the hill.” He looks at you concerningly.

“It’s not a big deal. I just really needed to talk to you.” Harry nods and he can’t help but blush. He thinks he must mean something to her if she’s willing to walk that far for him.

“Okay, well… shall we?”

As Harry drives, you notice how he’s gripping the steering wheel tightly and all you want to do is to tell him to relax, but you look forward, watching him enter the highway.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” You hear him whisper under his breath.

“What happened?”

“I took the wrong route.” You take a look around you and you notice you’re driving along the coast of Pacific Coast Highway. The sun is shining and hitting your faces as it reflects off the water in Malibu: your favorite time of the day.

“You can just turn around?”

“This highway goes on for miles, it-”

“Harry.” He stops talking and glances at you. You gently put your hand on his arm, somehow calming him down.

“Let’s just… drive?”

Harry nods as he calms down a bit, continuing to drive on the highway that seems to last a lifetime that will take you to the end of god knows where. But it’s okay because you’re with him.

As Harry parks in a lot that overlooks the ocean, you both get out of the car and he follows you quickly as you’re already on a path that leads towards the beach. Harry walks slightly behind you, feeling as if he’s walking around eggshells around you.

You lead to the beach and bend down to take your sandals off, Harry doing the same with his shoes. You walk on the sand that makes you feel at peace. You walk towards the big rocks that sit in front of the beach houses and you take a seat on the rock that was safe enough to climb and Harry does the same.

You both look out at the ocean, watching the sun set on a chilly Sunday. You had gone to the beach many times when you felt scared. The sun setting seeming to calm you down wherever you are, and being on the beach made it seem like you were closer to it, calming your nerves and anxiety down.

It’s quiet between the both of you as you embrace the silence and truly be in the moment as you watch beautiful sight in front of you and beside you.

“I’m sorry,” you start. “I’m sorry for not talking much, not opening up as much.” You don’t look at him (more afraid to look at him because you know you’ll start crying anytime soon) as you keep looking out at the ocean. Harry feels his heart physically ache and turns to look at you, making you look at him.

“It’s okay, I understand. I know it’s hard to open up to people, but I just want to say sorry that I keep bringing the subject up.” You feel your heart flutter and give him a small smile.

“You have nothing to be sorry about. The subject of family is scary to talk about for me and I was just overwhelmed when you kept talking about yours. And it made me think how much I want what you have.” Harry raises his eyebrows, but he learned not to ask anymore. He’d just wait for you to say whatever you want.

You took a deep breath, “I’m scared to open up because the last time I did... they went behind my back and spilled everything. ‘They’ meaning my ex.”

“I’m sorry if I was pressing the subject. You don’t have to talk to me about-”

“I want to. I need to. I keep living in the past and I don’t want to anymore.” All Harry can do is nod. “I want to open up... I do. I’m just scared.”

“There’s no need to be scared, baby. It’s just me.” Harry comforts you, and your heart can’t help but skip a beat when he called you baby. He puts his hand on your knee and caresses it with his thumb.

“ So… I don’t have any real parents. Ever since I could remember, I was jumping around from foster home to foster home and I’ve never really had a stable home before. Right before I turned 18, there was this one couple that miraculously wanted to adopt me and take me into their home and older kids don’t really get adopted, but a year and into living with them, I was getting comfortable. I was finally accepting that I had a home. But then they passed away and then I turned 18, and I was on my own.”

Harry grabs your hand as he sees you’re trying to calm yourself down. You wrap your hand around his as well, and you look up at him. He looks at you, not with pity, but someone who’s just wants to be there for you. He’s giving you the whole floor to talk and he’s there to listen, to support you.

“I got a job not too far away from here, actually, saved enough and got a very small apartment. I hated it, I hated being alone. So I went back to the adoption center and asked if they knew who my real parents were. They didn’t give me their names at first, for some reason, but I kept asking and I started crying, and eventually they felt bad and gave me their names. I found out that they had passed away when I was 15. I started doing research on my family and then I found out I had an older sister. I don’t know how I found her. The universe probably gave me a free pass. But I found her and it took me a while to message her, but I eventually did and… we look alike, yknow?” You smile at how similar you look like to your loving sister. “She was given up to my aunt, my birth mother’s sister, by our parents, but they had a falling out and never talked since, that’s why they didn’t know about me. But after my sister and I decided to meet up for the first time, we’ve been inseparable ever since. She doesn’t live too far away from me, about an hour. She has a family and everything.”

“I’d love to meet her.” Harry immediately regrets his words as it’s too fast to meet families. “Only if you’d like. I don’t-”

“I’d love for you two to meet.” You smile in reassurance. Harry smiles back nervously.

“My ex… I met him when I was 19 at the place I used to work at. He used to come in every week and he became a regular, and I worked everyday so of course I would remember him. But anyways, we dated for about a year and a half. When I noticed that it started going downhill, I talked to him about it like you’re supposed to do when relationships go down—I don’t know, it was my first relationship ever and I just knew you had to do that because of movies. Anyways, when I went to go talk to him, he broke up with me. He said he didn’t love me anymore… I was crushed. I didn't know what I did or how I could’ve made it better. But a week later, I downloaded social media and followed all of my— or his friends, and saw that he practically posted my whole life on the internet. Everything that I told him: my situation with family, my sister, my living situation, everything. I don't know why he did it; I still don’t know why. But he was just a total asshole.” You chuckle and Harry nods, slightly seeing red because he wants to find your ex and punch him where it hurts. How could anyone do that to such an angel?

“But I went on lockdown and became depressed. I didn’t want to see anyone. I vowed that I would never open up to anyone like that anymore. It hurts, sometimes it still does, and that happened like 6 years ago?”

Harry moves closer to you. “You have every right to be hurt, but you don’t deserve that. Ever.” You nod, finally understanding that you deserve so much better than what your ex did to you. You sniffle and look up at him.

“I used to come here after work after everything that had happened. I got off when the sun was setting and I ran everyday to this exact spot on this exact rock to watch the sun set. It relaxed me; it calmed my nerves. It became my safe place and it probably always will be. The sun and the ocean has been there for me more than anyone I came across, besides my sister. But that’s why I wanted to take you here, why I wanted to tell you everything here.” Harry puts his arm around you and you turn to face him in his hold.

“Thank you… for opening up. Thank you for everything you told me, I know it must’ve been hard.” He kisses your forehead.

“Thank you for being so patient with me, and I’m sorry for pushing you away.” Harry hugs you tighter and you hug him back. After a few moments, you let go and looks up at him.

“I don’t want to be scared anymore.” He cups you’re cheeks and wipes the tears that have fallen.

“You don’t have to be anymore. I’m here.” His forehead meets yours and he closes his eyes.

“I want this, Harry. I want this so bad.” You say, referring to the relationship and love that will blossom into something so beautiful. One hand grabs his wrist that holds your face and you put your other hand on one side of his face.

“It’s yours, love. You can have it.” Your lips are practically brushing together. Harry wants to kiss you so bad and you’re waiting for him to kiss you too, but you know he’s being hesitant because of you. So you lean in and meet his lips, kissing him for the first time like there’s no tomorrow.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer; needing to feel him closer. Your lips move in sync with his as sparks rage through your body, making the kiss more electrifying with adoration. And you’re sure that it’s a feeling you want to feel all the time when you’re with him.

He pulls away slowly and you whimper at the loss of contact. He looks at you and smiles.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.” He bites his lip and you smile shyly and thank him.

The sun was in the middle of setting and he looks at you with so much love as the light hits your face beautifully. Your eyes illuminating with specs of gold coming out from them.

You can tell he’s getting lost with just looking at you, and you’ve never had someone look at you so closely before. You peck his lip, “What?”

“Golden, baby. You’re so golden.”

#harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles ff #harry styles one shot #harry styles one direction #harry styles fanfiction #harry #solo harry #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles fine line #golden

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wu-sisyphus-gang · 3 years

Text

Motion Sickness Chapter 59

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I rolled up on the Seventh Heaven on a motorcycle with Neo riding behind me with both arms wrapped around my waist. She exhaled through her nose in a slow sigh.

"Good evening Mantle. Good evening SDC. Good evening Mother who lives in the corner of my eye but disappears when I try and look at you. What do you think, Neo? We finally going to get what we deserve?" I asked.

She squeezed my chest tightly.

"I meant about Cinder. Though you and I probably deserve to have other shit happen to us. Don't you think? Just a little?"

I stroked the engine and it went off like a gun while I sat outside the bar and waited for Avalanche. The cobblestone street wasn't crowded with the little motorcycle. I'd seen some bigger models that called out to me but for now this little one was enough for me.

"I mean the shit we've done..." I laughed. I laughed hard. It was funny. It was all so, so funny. Why wasn't I able to laugh at me like this all the time? "The shit we've done we probably deserve some horrible shit to happen to us. Probably something like exactly what happened. They call that karma. Not what will happen to us for what we've done, the shit that is happening to us for what we did."

"You with Roman," I murmured. "I imagine you did some horrible awful shit. I'm not worried about it. I do awful shit too."

She squeezed me tighter. I embraced the feeling. The touch of another was something so simple. It was something so alien to me at the moment but it was all too Cetra. Maybe I was just stopping Neo from getting close to me. Maybe she wanted to be close to me. Maybe I was the only real stopping block.

I wanted to embrace it, even if it was something from a sadist like Neo. She got off on torture and killing people. And hey, I liked it too. I liked my boot on the necks of those who would stand against me. I liked killing Tyrian. I savored in the memory of his blood pouring out onto the street. I wasn't about pain but I was about killing. I was this sort of monster that reveled in death.

Would Ruby love me now? If she could see the things I'd become would she pull at my hair and kiss my chest? Would her heart beat faster for me still? I could distantly remember the pulse between her legs. I remembered the taste of her sweat, it was sweet like cinnamon. I remembered when she rode me out in an Anima forest and I recalled pressing her against the tile of a shower. Breathless moans leaving her little frame. The skin of her neck against my teeth. Her full lips against mine, so tender against my own harshness. The memory of it was enough to make me shift in the motorcycle seat with Neo clinging to me.

I wasn't sure I had the answer. Or maybe I just didn't want to accept the answer I had. Maybe I didn't like it. Maybe I was just depressing and wallowing in it. Or maybe I had a good point. Maybe at some point somewhere I'd crossed a line.

Bugs crawled around behind my face. I could feel it in my eyes and ears tonight. I picked at the inside of my ear and rubbed an eye, slow and hard.

The soft whisperings of Mother were fit enough to drive me mad. They were loud tonight. Or maybe not. It was hard to tell. It didn't exactly come with a volume setting or a good frame of reference. There was nothing to compare the loudness to. It came and it went. The bugs were like that too.

I was an alien monster to Ruby. I was part Grimm somewhere inside of me. Maybe that was how I'd tracked the Nuckelavee so well. I knew its heart because my own heart beat that same black. My blood and insides were red but so was that of the Grimm. I was inhuman.

Would Weiss still give me that small affectionate smile I remembered gleaming at me in the early Mistrali dawn? A teasing smirk on her blushing face with her hair down around her shoulders.

Would Yang still laugh when I bit back against her?

Could I ever go back? Could I ever be forgiven because I killed my friends? Maybe I really should just kill myself and be done with it. If I turned it on me… if I evened it out… would that make it better? Could I get into heaven if I killed myself?

My friends would want me to go on. It wasn't fair. I just wanted to die.

I pulled my pipe out and took a long draw on it. I had a lot I wanted to relax about. My thoughts were wild and creeping up on me.

I'd never have another calm and patient conversation with Ren. Nor would I ever share a bubbly dialogue with Nora. That was my fault. I may blame Mother but I had been the one to draw my blade against them.

What was Ruby feeling right now as I set off to cause more chaos? Did she still think of me? Did I deserve to have her think of me like that? No. I didn't. And it wasn't because I was born a monster. It was because I embraced it. I tortured, maimed, and killed with impunity.

Ruby would never do something like that. Her heart would go out to each and every person she ever hurt. Meanwhile I was content to smoke and forget 'em.

I exhaled a long batch of smoke out into the cool Mantle night air. I let the earthly odor and feeling settle over me. It was fast. Inhaling drugs worked quick like that. Much faster than anything other than injections. Ghostly hands wrapped over me. The cold suddenly didn't feel so bad and Neo's arms felt nice and warm.

Her hands gripped one another tight, just under my armor where she could be comfortable. "We deserve to die. Me and you. You and I." I told her. "And it'll get us, too. Just you wait and see."

Avalanche came backing out in a little turquoise truck. It backfired a little as it came rolling away from the bar.

I gestured to them with a wave and let them lead the way down the street. It wasn't busy out and I was able tailgate Avalanche pretty closely as we made our way to the mine.

Thoughts crept in on me as I drove under the influence. It was actually pretty easy. I'd fought Tyrian under the influence and that went well enough. My control was fine and as we slipped into traffic I was aware.

I put my pipe in my pocket and out of sight. I didn't need some officer to pull me over because of basically nothing before the operation even started.

We rode up on this massive open pit mine and stopped our vehicles. It had a spiraling depth of road to it for heavy machinery with the walls braced by metallic supports.

"Neo, watch the rides."

She nodded. She leaned her parasol against her shoulder and leaned herself in turn against my new bike.

It was a shallow gold and stripped with platinum. It was easier on the eyes than Yang's bike was. The colors were dull and metallic unlike the bright colors of Bumble Bee. She even named her bike. Maybe I'd name mine too. Maybe one I was a little more attached to than this. I could fucking afford it, I'd bought a whole plane. A nice bike would be nothing. Depending on just how nice it was.

I stepped away and Neo took my hand for a moment and squeezed my fingers. I hesitated for a moment and grabbed her hand back and returned her squeeze.

Then I stepped away for real.

Avalanche swung their way out of their truck. The vehicle heaved as Wenge made his way out of the back of it with his machine gun in hand. Bisque stepped out of the driver's seat, pistol drawn and at the ready. Jasper stepped out of shotgun with an easy grin and a wave at me.

I stared down into the large open pit of the mine with the spiraling road.

"You didn't forget the charges, did you?" I asked.

"Oh, right," Wenge mumbled. He tossed an explosive at my head which I caught.

"Where am I setting this up?" I asked. I began to step down the rings into the large open pit. Blowing the sides of the place would cause a landslide and bury the dust that was ready and waiting for extraction.

"One over there." Bisque pointed. "And another over… there. That should just about do it. Then we blow it remotely."

I laid down a wall of the place on both legs and I walked up to a strut he'd indicated and began to strap the charge into place with duct tape. I set it for remote activation with a push of a button.

"So far this is going very well!" Jasper exclaimed next to me.

A small Schnee Dust Company marked airship spun overhead. It came in low and fast.

"Go set the last charge." I told her. I drew my sword and advanced on two men descending from the plane. I activated my semblance and drew my sword. I flew up to match the height of the plane with a mighty leap. I bladebeamed it.

The beam crashed into the hovering plane and it began to spin out from the tremendous attack. Pieces flew off as it started to spiral into the massive pit. I watched the plane start to level out but it was clearly struggling to remain in the air. I had been hoping to outright destroy it but this was close enough.

I turned back to the two who had descended on guide wires. They were picking themselves off the ground where they fell from the spinning plane.

I stepped up to them and charged my semblance.

"You must be Cloud Strife." The redhead said. He coughed a little but stood firm. He pulled an electro-stick on me as he stood up and caught his breath. The other man just raised his fists with a quiet grunt.

"That's me," I spoke quietly. Speaking quiet is always more threatening than speaking loud. At least in my experience.

Kill the girl. And the boy.

Like that. Exactly like that.

"I'm Rosso. And this is Rude." He gestured with his stick. He brushed dust off of his slacks. They were both wearing full suits and Rude was even wearing a tie. Rosso on the other hand was wearing a pair of goggles up above his eyes and he had an exposed chest under his jacket. He had tattoos next to his eyes, as well.

"We're the Turks. We're going to fuck up six ways to Sunday."

"I'll make this quick." I lowered my sword down at Rosso.

He laughed like I didn't just cut down the plane he was riding in. "Get 'em Rude."

Rude came at me with his fists. I blocked the heavy string of attacks he came at me with using the wide side of my blade. I spaced him out with the giant sword. I swung it around my body and into his gut and knocked him off his feet.

Rosso came at me in an electric blue blur. It was bright blue unlike my deep wafting blue semblance. A speed semblance perhaps. He moved behind me and hit me in the back of the head with his stick. I spun to deal with him but he just blurred away again.

Rude came at me once more. He was enormously strong, but slow. His partner more than made up for his lack of speed, however.

"Cloud's engaged the Turks." Came through a mic in my ear. It was Jasper's voice. "How long until the charges are set?"

My semblance activated. When Rosso came by for another swing I blocked his attack on my sword and reached out and grabbed him by the throat.

"Rude! Help!" I slammed him into the ground through his words.

I was at my most dangerous in a one on one fight. There were certain adaptations I had to make in a two on one fight that made me considerably less formidable. For one I couldn't stand there and non-limit Cross Slash my enemies. It just took too much time while an enemy could come up behind me.

Rude tackled me but I rolled rather than be grabbed by him. I came back up to my feet.

I flew at Rude and brought my sword in a tremendous swing upwards. It caught him in the chest and smashed him into the air. I jumped and swiped my sword down over my head in a brutal strike downwards that slammed him into the ground.

Rosso appeared next to where I landed and hit me in the back with his staff, making me stumble forward. He moved around and hit me in the gut, lightning fast. I grunted and bent over.

He made for another pass but I blocked it with the wide side of Crocea Mors and slashed him to the ground such that he landed on his ass and a blue crackling of aura went over him. He wasn't out just yet but he couldn't keep getting hit by me while I was Limit Broken. He just couldn't afford it, didn't have the aura.

Rude came at me from the other side and I kicked him in the chest and brought my sword down on his head, forcing him to sidestep.

I pulled a lightning crystal from my pocket and crushed it. I swept my hand towards Rosso but Rude reached out and grabbed my arm. I stared at him for a moment in surprise before it blew up in both of our faces.

I kick-jumped my way back to my feet easily and was just in time to block another swing of Rosso's electro-stick. He pushed me back on a pocket of air rather than forcing my feet to slide over the ground. He pushed me all the way back into the side of the pit along the dirt road we fought on.

I flew straight up on the wall and front-flipped over his head, I swung my sword at his back in a non-Limit Break Braver as I flipped over him but he moved out of the way of the helmsplitter with a narrow dodge.

I backflipped in place in his direction and nearly pinned him against the wall with an upward slicing aerial attack. He tried to step in and do some damage with his staff but I followed him with two horizontal slashes that forced him to block the first and jump out of the way of the second.

Rude came up on me in a huge bear hug. He grabbed me from behind and suplexed me. I felt my neck slam against the ground.

I slid back to my feet, already hovering back up. Rude clubbed me once and I thrust Crocea Mors forward and caught him. Then I pulled him into the air with it and then slammed him back into the ground.

"Charges are almost set." Wenge's voice came through my head. "And done. We're good to go."

I backflipped in place and hit Rude with a devastating falling aerial attack that swung horizontally. It forced him to slide back and made his aura flare up in a deep electric yellow.

I chased after him and kicked him in the middle of the chest. Then I kicked him in the side of the leg, making him fall, then I brought my blade around on the side of his head.

Rosso clashed with my blade before I could bring it around on the side of his partner's head. He grunted under the force of my early executed attack.

"Gah! What are you made out of?" Rosso grunted.

"I'm a hunter. A real one." I put my shoulder into the side of the blade and slammed the entire thing into his chest and knocked him to the ground. “You’re both bad jokes. I’d laugh but I don’t find it very funny.”

I was still holding on to my semblance. In a two on one fight like this I needed the speed and strength buffs more than I needed to spend it. Without the movement improvements I'd be unable to keep up with Rosso's speed. So unless I cornered him with it, I'd still need it. It was a difficult balance to play.

So I chased him after I knocked him back and brought my sword down in a massive downwards swing. I gambled and spent my Limit on a Cross Slash. I only caught Rosso in the last two swings of it but it shattered Rosso's aura and slammed him back into the crater wall.

Rude came at me but even in my non-elevated state he was terribly slow. I swept my blade at him which he caught on his knuckles. Then I hit him in the gut with my blade, and after that I kneed him.

I tapped my microphone. "Set off the charges."

"But Cloud…!" Bisque's voice came through.

"Just do it!”

I felt the charges go off and the rockslide begin as the struts collapsed. I hovered above and backflipped three times against the wall of the crater and escaped. I landed neatly beside Avalanche and Neo as the walls came tumbling in.

I looked down and over and saw Rosso and Rude climbing back on guide wires in the still recovering plane. I watched it take off with the two 'Turks' in tow. I felt almost positive that I'd be seeing them again.

"Let's mosey," I told them. I straddled my bike. Neo hopped on and wrapped her arms around me again. She pressed herself tight against me.

I watched and waited for Avalanche to climb back into their truck.

Then I spun off on a cloud of dirt.

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

-WG

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trying-write-fanfics · 4 years

Text

Hitoshi Shinso X Reader part 4

“I just wanted to say thanks for healing my face.” He said. “That’s gotta be a nice quirk.”

“Yeah of course. I just didn’t think it was fair of him to just punch you like that because you didn’t know what you were expecting from him. Sorry if I was too handsy. I use to be really bad at acting in crisis, but now I kinda forget where I am with it.” She rambled. “Weren’t you in general studies?”

“You remember that from the sports festival last year?” He asked her.

“Yeah, you stood out big time. It was mostly class A with a sprinkle of the other hero class, but you weren’t even in the hero course at all. That and your mind controls gotta be pretty cool. That could probably prevent a lot of injuries.”

He was surprised she wasn’t off put by his quirk, no villain comments, no hoping he doesn’t use it on her, but praise that it could be used for something heroic rather than evil. The surprise died down once he realized her healing quirk would probably just enjoy the relief to prevent injuries.

“It only works if you answer a question and can be broken easily.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“I’m sure if you keep using it, it’ll expand its abilities. Benny, Sonny, and I all learned new things about our quirks.”

“Really?” Shinso asked.

“Oh yeah!” Her eyes sparkled. “I use to only be able to close open wounds, but now I can soothe pain, heal bruises under the skin, and more!”

“How did you train your quirk with all that? You know a lot of sick people?”he asked her

“Yeah, I work at a hospital emergency room. If I went to a hero program I wouldn’t get much variety when dealing with injuries or illnesses.”

“Illnesses?”

“I can’t get rid of viruses, but I can reduce a lot of symptoms.”

So she was just perfect all around. She saves people, she heals people, she feels the urgency to reduce pain in the world and was gorgeous.

“Will you be back here?” He asked.

“Yeah we have a lot of tests to catch up on so the hero committee knows we’re on the right track. That and UA is gonna let us use their gym after school hours.”

“Why’s that?”

“Seems like the hero committee is really rooting for us.” She told him.

“Oh my god (nickname) our ride is here!” Blaze yelled.

L/n gave Shinso a little wave goodbye and a smile. It was an image he kept thinking about, like it was going to be an important memory. Sadly there was another pair of eyes watching in jealousy.

“I wish I saw all three in action!” Midoriya said. “To see someone like Blaze fight would be amazing. How did she learn to control such a power.” Midoriya rambled.

“Yeah...she might be amazing. We haven’t seen anything.” Urakaka said.

“And L/n what type of fighting style has she learned. I mean all three have combat styles that don’t rely on their quirks and probably some for their quirks.” Midoriya said. “Does your face still hurt, Shinso?”

“What...oh no.” He said being brought back from zoning out.

“Were you sore like after recovery girl or is the sensation different?” Midoriya asked.

“Um, I’m not tired.” He wasn’t really paying attention.

“I didn’t even know out of school programs were options for…” Iida’s voice started to zone into the static.

For Shinso he thought he played it smart. He acknowledged in his own mind that L/n was pretty, but it didn’t mean anything, anyone can be beautiful. She apologized for her mistakes, but anyone can be kind. She even liked the idea of his quirk which is rare, but anyone can bring new surprises. Yet his heart beat, waiting to see her again excitedly. That feeling killed him. He thought it was stupid how he was falling for her from the littlest interaction. She healed him! That’s just what a healer does! She was worried when Shinso was punched by the abercrombie model. His mind was dissecting every little interaction the two had together, remembering every detail of words and exchanges that had happened. Shinso stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. Looking into his eyes he took a deep break.

“Fuck.” He sighed, he was deep in it so fast.

“What’s the matter? Are you constipated?” Denki asked while brushing his teeth.

The next few days weren’t really important to Shinso. L/n was out of sight out of mind, until Benny came to the school gym, just him. Midoriya was with him after class asking him questions. Benny gave a few demonstrations of how to surprise punch someone, by baiting them with a fake swing with a real swing. He noticed Shinso was watching him and called him over.

“Hey wild purple rain cloud!” Benny called over. “Staring at my nice pecs?”

“No, just wondering where the rest of your group is.” Shinso said.

Benny laid back down on the bench to press some weights.

“Sonny is studying for her school exams and (nick name) is at work making bank.” Benny said through grunts.

“It must be nice having such a helpful quirk.” Midoriya said. “Always able to help people.”

“Yeah it’s a burden on her.” Benny was quick to say.

“Why’s that?” Midoriya got embarrassed for fawning over someone’s curse.

“Imagine it, the second your quirk develops your parents celebrate about having this golden child who's going to be the best doctor in the world. Only she never wanted to be a doctor and when you get to school people only wanna be friends with you and introduce you to their sick relatives. It’s depressing. Not only that but you have to wait for the people your recusing to come to you and look at you like you’re they’re only hope. I’m surprised she hasn’t blown up yet.” Benny dropped the weight loudly.

“Oh I didn’t know she suffered liked that.” Midoriya said.

“I mean it’s like that for most great helpful quirks like that. She won’t tell you that, but that’s what’s it like for her.”

“How do you know if she doesn’t talk about it.” Shinso asked.

“All three of us went to grade school and middle school together. It’s not hard to piece together how badly the world wants to use your friend.” Benny explained.

Shinso nodded as he was piecing more of this picture of L/n he had. People were fake nice to him in order to avoid him using his quirk while people were fake nice to her to use her quirk.

“Hey, you’re that guy whose doing a home school hero program?” Bakugo was asking.

“And?” Benny cocked his eyebrow.

#x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha fanfiction #series #hitoshi shinsou #hitoshi shinso #bnha shinso x reader #shinso x reader #hitoshi x reader #hitoshi shinso x reader #shinso hitoshi #shinsou hitoshi

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rafe-cameron · 4 years

Text

THE ANALYSIS OF JOHN B ROUTLEDGE

In the fandom, what I've seen is a lot of what I feel is misinterpretation of John B's character, which is leading to a lot of unnecessary slander, and overall a negative vibe surrounding John B, and giving a negative wave of backlash to those who do like his character. I am all for positive emotions, and supporting and liking and disliking whatever characters you'd like! Though, I would like to put this out here just as a way of explaining what I've seen in his character. This is not a professional opinion by any means, but I do have a habit and (ringing my own bell) talent in analyzing different characters from an unbiased point of view.

DISCLAIMER: All of this is not fact, but a closely analyzed opinion. You are free to disagree and I genuinely do not care if you don't like John B! I wrote this because I wanted to and feel it could help. And this is written FOR JOHN B. Don't hit me with comments of “but JJ also” or “but Kie didn't MEAN to” or anything, because I am not writing about them. I’m writing this one for John B, about John B, and how someone would view life through his eyes and with everything that happened.

Now, onto the analysis.

Episode 1:

John B has a wave of issues being presented in not-so friendly forms. A 16 year old is living alone, considering his father has been missing for 9 months. Looking at it that way, he's had to finish his school year while juggling constant jobs to take care to himself, for food, gas, and paying bills, on top of school. Even if it's revealed he missed a lot of school that year, it's hard to blame him. His mom left him when he was still a baby, His uncle by definition also abandoned him, and his father is gone. He's threatened with foster care daily, which means he would lose everything that he has, his home, and his friends, which are the only thing keeping his head above water.

That alone is enough to give him intense abandonment issues. Both parental figures left, his guardian is as he described it “MIA”, so his ability to process how people see him and how he sees relationships is going to be, at best, rocky. He's going to have it in his head that everyone around him can leave at any time and he won't have any sort of say in it. Not to mention the depression and the anxiety that would bubble up from all of this. Depression makes you lash out, anxiety makes you pull away, two things he's shown to have trouble controlling.

He gets an idea for a way to try and make his life better, and get money to support himself, JJ being the one to hype that up despite Kie and Pope being against it.

Come the party later that night at the boneyard. A widespread party with lots of people there, lots of drinking, and comes the fight between Topper and JJ, which led to John B stepping in to protect JJ.

This is the first of many times where John B is almost murdered or killed. Hearing Topper yells “dont make me drown you like your old man”, then being drowned by him, while everyone stood and watched until JJ went off his shits and saved him.

This? Is all just the first episode. A peek into the curtain of how his family abandoned him, then he gets his shit beaten in, and he gets drowned by Topper. This would only worsen his already fragile mental state. At this point, he's ready to call it off, and leave it alone, but JJ gets desperate to help his friend and himself, and he goes along with it. This leads to, again, him getting shot at by the two guys hunting down the compass he stole off the boat. The second time John B is almost killed.

“With no parents, no money, and no one looking out for me, I've got no chance, unless I make it on my own.”

He sees no way out of the hole he's in anymore unless he fights tooth and nail to get out of it, no matter what it takes.

Episode 2:

In this episode, he's got it in his head now that since he found a compass on a wrecked boat, that his dad is trying to reach out to him. When you have abandonment issues as deep-running as John B, any possible chance that someone who left already is trying to come back? You run with it. You cling to it like it is all you have, and for him, it is. This compass is all that he has to go on, and he's desperate to try and figure it out because this is his fathers last way of communicating with him.

He goes to Ms. Lana's house, and has to both watch and listen to two men terrorize her, and he is told vaguely by Ms. Lana that it is horrible that he has the compass. He returns home to talk to his friends, and goes to his dads office for the first time in a long time, and has to relive the fact his fathers gone at that point.

Only for the two guys to come to John B's house. They break in and completely ransack the place, they steal a good chunk of John B's fathers stuff. They have to sneak out of the window and go to hide until the two men leave, but, he has to sit and watch these people break apart his home and steal from him.

After all of that, they go to the lighthouse, where he's thrown into another panic over this compass that no one is telling him about. He's frustrated, and he's scared. They leave the lighthouse and in a complete blind instinct of adrenaline, he kisses Kie, and gets rejected by her. Then, he gets arrested, questioned, and has to get bailed out by Kie's dad, who insults him. Now Kie won't talk to him, and he has to go home to his damaged house.

He also has to get fired from hi only stable job, so now he has no money and no job, a damaged home, and lost a friend for now.

Not only that, but he does get hunted down by those two men again, and is almost killed for thr 3rd time, and runs through an electric fence, where he's almost killed the 4th time. He gives up his fathers compass, and while ull of hurt and despair for everything, returns home to try and move past everything, but he catches another glimpse of possibility, and he clings to it all over again.

And, his urge and crave to hunt down his dad only grows as they find the Redfield tomb thingy and find the package left behind by Big John.

Episode 3:

It starts off with John B having to sit through the emotion that comes with hearing his fathers voice for the first time in 9 months. The pain and the confusion and how much he missed him rushing back, it's a feeling that is hard to describe, but it is draining, and it doesn't feel good.

He talks to everyone about how he just wants to have a normal life, and stop stressing so much about damn near everything.

He's decently up in this episode, but his actions only worsen. He encourages stealing, and puts himself into risky situations. This is the bud of the suicidal/reckless tendencies he starts to develop as he starts to lose regard for his own safety, because subconsciously, he sees no point in caring about what happens to himself and those around him. This is where he gets desperate for a reason to keep existing, because he lost every other one that he had.

Episode 4:

In this episode, they find the merchant. They track it down and find it's empty, but John B isn't ready to give up.

He gets met, unfortunately, with DCS, who force him to pack, and start to take him away. In an attempt to not leave behind anything? He jumps from a moving vehicle, and is now being hunted down for the first time.

He's taken in by Sarah.

DISCLAIMER: OPINION.

This is where we see Sarah see that things with John B aren't cookie cutter. She knows hes plotting something, and she wants to get away from her Kook life and do something different and exciting. So, she tags along for the ride. Her and John B go out and Sarah puts John B into a situation where he is being led on by her, despite her being in a relationship. But, her desperation to break from her box gets the best of her, and John B clings to that romance, because a romantic relationship has a more solid foundation than a friendship to him. They're less likely to leave him. So, he wants to run with it.

This is a huge part of why he kissed Kie. In his eyes, if he's dating them, maybe they wont leave, but he can't have that same situation with just a friend. He knows that, and this is where he starts to push away his friends. Bite before you can get bitten, it's depression + abandonment issues 101.

Episode 5:

This one is.. a mess. Its a mess.

We start right off the bat with John B realizing that he can't go home anymore. JJ and John B get into a pretty nasty argument. JJ is concerned for his friend, and he wants him to be safe and stop all of this, naturally, but to John B? He hears JJ trying to give him on him, to abandon him, and to leave all of this. He reacts to this by lashing out at him, yelling at him, and talking about how he just wants to stop because he got beat up. Which, John B is still under the assumption it was just the Kooks, when it was both the Kooks and his father – something John B didn't catch onto. After they yell at eachother, John B has JJ following him again. It's a safe zone once more in John B's mind.

Then, after the party is crashed and they all meet up, John B tries to explain that Sarah got wrapped up into all of this. He has Kie, Pope, and even if JJ knew already, he's not too happy about it either. So he's got everyone mad at him for this, and even if spirits are high in terms of his recklessly driven hunt, he sees everyone around him getting angrier, and angrier. And that? Is making him angry too.

He goes to meet Sarah at the hawks nest. And once again, he is almost killed. He's shoved off of it by none other than Topper (who has tried to murder him twice now), and plummets, and ends up in the hospital.

But things can start to turn around, because Ward took him in and he has a legal guardian now, right?

No.

Ward is plotting to keep John B under his nose to make sure he doesn't find anything else out.

Episode 6:

Again, not much happens here. Things seem to be going good and despite Wards want for John B laying low, he doesn't. He finds the gold.

Episode 7:

Here, we have another instance in which JJ's bad ideas get John B (and everyone) put into danger. After trying to pawn off the gold, they get stopped by Barry, who threatens to kill him and robs them. John B is quick to jump into the line of fire and get the gold back, desperate to keep it. He succeeds, but JJ barrels into Barrys house and robs him. JJ manhandles John B a good few times for trying to stop him.

And nearing the end of this, he's told by Ward that Ward knows about the gold, and wants John B to give it all up.

John B says no. He's gotten this far and can't lose it all to Ward. Not only that? But he finds out Ward had something to do with his father disappearing. That sort of news is heartbreaking. John B snaps just a little more, but so does Ward.

Episode 8:

John B and ward get into it. Ward is messy and doesn't hesitate to try and kill John B while they're on the boat. Again, for the 7th time, John B is almost killed, but escapes it just in time to keep going.

He goes to Lana, who explains that Ward was the one who killed his father. He finds out now that the man he trusted and the man that took him in both wanted to steal from him, and murdered his only parent? That's too much to carry for any one person.

Ward tells authorities John B tried to kill him, and he's being hunted down even more than he was before.

He sees now that again, all of his friends are both worried and angry with him. He's panicking at this point. He's stuck on the run and can't seem to catch a break, more so now that Ward figured out where the gold is, and sees him trying to leave with it.

Episode 9:

John B now is framed for the murder of Peterkin. He's almost killed by Rafe at the runway, and is now on the run again. He's facing major charges and none of them are of things he actually ever did.

John B has no choice but to run away from the OBX, from the US< and try and figure out what to do with himself from there.

He's almost killed by Rafe, again, because he set the bell tower ablaze.

But he manages to escape long enough so everyone can put together the pieces of his escape plan.

Episode 10:

He leaves. He leaves with Sarah on the boat, but of course, power has to go back on, and they lose their cover. They're both hunted down, chased out to sea, and is considered dead because of the storm. He survives again, but just by the skin of his teeth.

Looking back on everything that happened to him just in these episodes, on top of knowing he had to deal with his father being gone for months without a clue of how to take care of himself, plus the fact he's now headed for his gold without anything but one bar and the clothes on his back?

John B quite literally lost everything. He lost his family, his home, his friends, his job, everything that kept his head above water, yet, he's expected to be the strong one, and the leader of the group.

He has expectations that he cant meet, and he's getting the wrong kind of help for his issues. Depression, anxiety, trust issues, abandonment issues, and I wouldn't be surprised if various forms of PTSD stemmed from everything that's happened to him. In no way is John B a perfect person. He is a flawed and complex character, who made poor choices, and acted out in bad ways, but, the entire gang is guilty of doing some bad things too.

JJ's aggression and lack of impulse control.

Pope's passive aggression and constant cold shoulder to not getting what he wants.

Kie's hostility and lack of self restraint.

Topper's sexism and abusiveness.

Rafe's drug abuse and abusiveness.

Again, you are so more than welcome to dislike and like whatever characters you want! Though, I hope this point of view can help clear up some of the thing's ive seen on John B being irredeemable and a bad friend to everyone.

John B is a wonderfully written, intense, lovable character, and I wanted to share my thoughts on him, his trauma, and his life! If anyone wants to see more deep character analysis', don't be afraid to request them! I enjoy doing them!

- jv

#outer banks #obx #john b obx #john b #john b routledge #john booker routledge #jj maybank #pope heyward #kiara carrera #rafe cameron #topper thorton #sarah cameron

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