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kindasleepywriter · 5 months

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Bird of Prey - Chapter 6: Tempest

Bird of Prey masterlist. Azriel x Reader.

Chapter summary: Feyre dives into unwanted memories, and Azriel deals with the consequences you have to endure.

Story rating: Mature - Minors DNI

Warnings: Torture, blood, burns, use of the word "half-breed", trauma response. This is a heavy chapter- but balanced with fluff, so much fluff<3

Word count: 5.6k

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The few days spent alone with Lucien had done you a lot of good. Cassian and Nesta weren’t around often, and it was refreshing to finally let your guard down, being able to exhale after centuries of holding your breath. The two of you were barely able to scratch the surface of all that you’d lived in the last two hundred and something years.

He was completely in love with his mate, and you were profoundly grateful that the mother had granted him a reprieve and a circle of people he trusted. Elain seemed like a sweet girl- a good soul that had managed to keep her softness through unending trauma. You’d never tell Lucien that you still didn’t trust her, of course, but you knew he was aware of your ‘hesitancy to accept people’, as he’d called it once. Over dinners and late-night chats, he’d gone quickly over the rocky beginnings of their relationship- and Azriel’s part in that turbulence- but he reassured you that there was no bad blood, and Azriel had even been to one to finally convince Elain to take a chance on Lucien. You didn’t know how you felt about that information, so you willfully ignored it.

His friends, his band of exiles, as he called them, also seemed like interesting people- especially the firebird. He was excited about the prospect of introducing you to them and, even though you were reticent to meet strangers, there was little you wouldn’t do for him. You could try, at the very least.

Then, there was the elephant in the room. Amarantha. You already knew the gist of what had happened during those fifty years, but he recounted how he had experienced it in Spring, his friends sent to slaughter in the human lands in hopes of ending her reign. He knew you understood what being trapped felt like. You’d offered him the best support you could muster, pushing past your discomfort at the subject.

“Where were you during that time, anyways? How did you hide from that nightmare for five decades?”, Lucien asked, sitting in an armchair to the side of yours where both of you were taking comfort in the crackle of a low fire in the sitting room. “I heard you disappeared during that time. No one heard about any contracts you might’ve taken.”

“Well, I didn’t have the chance to be in Velaris when the curse rose from under the mountain”, you muttered sarcastically, “but I already had so few ties to people. It wasn’t hard to keep track of them and… well. You’re aware of what I do when a messenger decides to let slip important details. They know the consequences signing on.”

Lucien winced. “Did it happen often.?”

“Only once, at the end of the first year. A shopkeeper who thought he might be able to gain Amarantha’s favor by selling me out. I decided not to take any chances after that and I took shelter as far as I could, even hiding in the human lands for a while. Any contracts I could’ve gotten during that time would’ve probably been on her orders, directly or not. I didn’t want to participate in her destruction. I did visit you in spring once or twice over the decades, though. I think I rather prefer you without the mask.”

“You’re not the only one, but I also think not ripping the collars of my shirts while dressing is really the best thing about losing it.”, he chuckled. “I’m glad to hear you weren’t hurt during her reign. She really had an obsession over you, but you never even heard about that, did you?”

You shook your head, confused. You knew she’d have interest in someone with your skillset, but you weren’t exactly well known. You wouldn’t be very good at your job if you left witnesses.

“What did I ever do to piss her off? I’ve never even been close to her for contracts, it’s not like she could’ve had a grudge against me.”

“She didn’t need to know you to resent you- You know your old reputation, Feather, but you’ve got to understand that it’s not just a rumor circulating through the undercities anymore,” he said, “People were clinging on to every hope they could during those decades. The idea of someone who had the power to take down rulers… It caught on like a brushfire.”

“But I wasn’t even there.”

“That’s a detail the common folk didn’t care about.”

“And yet, its still the most crucial one.”, you sighed. “By the mother, they might’ve thought I’d be their savior, but I didn’t talk to a single soul for half a century.”

“Now, that’s one long dry spell, I’ll say that your uptight attitude with the others is so much more unders- ow!”, he yelped as you smacked him in the arm with the book that sat on the table between you.

“If you think me not getting any for a couple years is enough for me to not check your audacity, Kit, I-“

“Now that I think about it, maybe that explains the tension between you and a certain spymaster, I’m sure after so long out there you just can’t- stop it!” Another smack, as he held you at arm’s length to protect himself from any further literary assaults, but he continued undeterred.

“I mean, with the way you’re watching him, I feel like you’re really earning your title of Bir-“

You clapped a hand over his mouth, hissing. “Not here!”You had no idea who could be listening in. Using your ‘professional’ name wasn’t the best idea.

He wrenched your arm away from him, laughing. “They’re not going to hurt you. They’re not who you think they are, Feathers. The act they put up before was mostly just that, an act. I know you heard the rumors, that you-”

Your mind flipped like a switch from amusement to anger, and you shoved him away. Lucien’s face immediately went white at your change in demeanor.

“Heard the rumors, Lucien? I didn’t just hear them, I saw them! I’ll be damned before any of these damn faes fool me into believing their bullshit. The camps, they’re a nightmare.”

You were seething. He knew of your history, and to disregard their actions as mere court gossip felt like a betrayal.

“You don’t know what it’s like to see a little girl’s wings pinned to the town square because she went just a little too far in the forest”, you spat, “women carrying so many bruises that their skin was more purple than skin colored, flinching whenever a door opened!”

A soft voice put an end to your tirade. “I’m sorry you’ve been witness to such a horrible event. These clippings… They’re harrowing.”, the High Lady said, standing in the doorway of the room with her arms loosely folded as she stared at you, pain flashing in her eyes. You hadn’t noticed her, in your anger. Immediately, you stiffened and tried to calm your breathing, but struggled when you heard Lucien let out a breath of relief behind you. You fought every urge to turn around and swing at him. He’d get his verbal beating later. You forced your voice back into neutrality, years of practice aiding you.

“I assume that you disapprove of the practice, then.”, you said, venom still subtly lacing your words despite your efforts.

“Of course, I do.”, she sighed. “We’ve been doing what we can to stop them, I swear that to you, but it’s easier to try and lift a mountain than to convince the Lords watching over the camps.”

You narrowed your eyes, not offering a word. If convincing them was the problem, you thought, then perhaps a change in leadership was needed. Either for those Lords… or higher in the ranks. Still, you felt a certain amount of honesty in her words. Maybe she had a distaste for the practice, but it didn’t mean her entourage did.

She exhaled, noticing your closed off body language. She walked slowly into the room, sparing a glance at Lucien, standing still for a moment before turning back to you. “I was told you asked for me specifically, to hear what you’re willing to share.”

Ah, right. The planned dive into the most intimate part of yourself: your memories. You’d almost forgotten about it, in the comfort of Lucien’s presence. Almost.

Lucien shuffled around you awkwardly, nodding to Feyre as he left the room with haste. If your jaw could clench any harder, you were pretty sure your teeth would have started cracking by now.

“You seemed like the better alternative.”, you said.

“Yes, I know Rhys can be a little much when you meet him for the first time. Trust me, I didn’t like him at first either.”

Mentally, you rolled her eyes. What words were hers, which ones were his, and were any of them truthful? You couldn’t know.

Feyre looked disappointed at your lack of response. If she thought a few niceties would change your mind about her mate, she was wrong.

“Well, we can get started, if you’d like. This will only take a minute.”

You nodded.

She gestured to the velvet couch that sat parallel to the armchairs you and Lucien had occupied, and you sat, keeping a certain distance from her. You felt the fire’s warmth at your side. A cold shiver ran through you despite it.

“What do I need to do, exactly? Do I need to close my eyes, or…”

The truth was that you had no idea how daemati powers worked. You’d had a certain amount of training in the Dawn court against it, but it was always from a position of defense. The instinct to bar anyone from your mind had been drilled into you as a young fae, and the idea of letting someone in was making every nerve in your body recoil. You didn’t want people to see even the most minute emotional reaction, and Feyre would be privy to your entire history and thoughts.

“If you feel like you need to, you may, but it’s not necessary. Just lower your shields and I’ll make sure to keep it as brief as possible. You can go afterwards, but invite you to stay, should you choose too. You’re Lucien’s friend, he’s told us good things about you…”, she said.

You braced yourself for the intrusion, keeping quiet and watching her carefully as you dismantled your barriers, brick by brick. She seemed to abandon the idea of convincing you. You felt the soft scratch of sharp talons against them, figuratively knocking at your door. The feeling was too familiar to Rhysand’s powers, and you couldn’t help but shudder at the thought. You finally made an opening in your stone walls.

Her incorporeal presence started to sort through your mind. You appreciated that she let you see her exploring and that she focused on the relevant parts of your memories. You knew that was a conscious choice on her part and you felt the slightest appreciation for how respectful she was in the situation. You felt a warmth from her as the thought crossed your mind, immediately turning your gratefulness into wariness again.

She started at the most recent events, thankfully skipping your time since you’d arrived in Velaris, and travelled backwards in time. She saw the confrontation with Azriel in the woods, the hunt for the Illyrian spy across Prythian, back to the initial arrangement that had taken place.

You almost felt her shock as she witnessed your messenger transmitting the details of the contract, lingering on it just a moment too long for it to go unnoticed. The story of the young woman and what she suffered, her forced marriage, her destroyed wings. You felt Feyre’s fury run through you as she processed the information. Her emotional state agitated her, so much that some of her memories slipped through.

You could see her discussing with her circle in a large room, a table covered in what seemed to be reports and maps, debating on ways to protect the women in the camps. You saw fragments of her and Rhysand, locked in an embrace in the morning light, whispering about the horror they’d seen, his hold on her tightening as tears ran down her cheeks. You felt like an intruder, these were private conversations, intimate moments, but you couldn’t help but be shocked at the idea that the court really did want to change the camps. Was she the only one pushing for this, or did they listen to her pleas for change? She did hate those clippings, that you were sure of. You let out an exhale of relief, ready to rebuild your barriers.

What you didn’t expect, however, was for her to keep going. You began to struggle as you tried to stack brick after brick, shoving her out, but she was too strong. She wasn’t finished, and you were powerless to stop it, but panic ran through you. You couldn’t tell where her emotions started and when yours ended, if the thoughts running through you were hers, yours, or somebody else’s.

You tried to throw every thought possible at her, stop her descent into your past, but she was too far gone in the trauma of your past. She was getting too close, too deep, and you were shaking through it all.

“Stop.”, you gritted out aloud. “You know I wasn’t here to cause problems, stop going through my fucking past, let me go!”

It was as if she didn’t hear you, but she let out a gasp of shock when she completely bypassed your time in Autumn, flying instead to the one moment you had never shared with anyone like a moth to a flame. Ice ran through your veins. Anything but this, any other memory, you pleaded, but you were met with only growing alarm and dread. You were both engulfed by the weight of your pain.

“Dad, please, I didn’t think, I’m sorry!”

You were sobbing, a large weight on your chest as two hands gripped the bone that ran along the top of each of your wings so harshly that you could feel the fingernails drawing blood and ripping out soft dawn feathers. Your full feathers weren’t even completely mature yet, you weren’t even fully grown yet.

“Damn right you didn’t think, you ungrateful little shit. I was clear that you would not come back here.”, the man spit out. “You’re not my daughter, never was. I don’t care that your mother died pretending to have the right to fight. I’m not responsible for a disgusting fucking chicken like you!”

You squinted through the pain at him, his knees digging into your thorax as he held you down. You couldn’t breathe. His stocky frame blocked out the light that filtered through the shut windows, his wings fully extended as you struggled against his hold. His leathery black wings.

“I’ll go right now”, you pleaded, “I’ll never be seen in the night court again, I swear, please, just let me go!”

His hand gripped tighter, a loud cry echoing through your lungs.

“And have Arevos think me weak, letting a few tears from a half-breed like you sway me? Never, not in a million years. You’ll learn the consequences of your actions. You’ll see what happens to lowly women like you who would rather destroy a man’s reputation than know your place.”

He swung a fist at you, dizzying you as you choked on the blood now flowing down your throat. He moved behind you, stepping on you in the process, and started dragging you out the door, grabbing only your wings. You screamed in pain, sobbing uncontrollably as red-hot pain shot through your muscles and back, feathers ripping out and leaving bloody trails as your father stepped through the camp furiously. You clawed at the floor, trying to grip at anything to yank yourself out of his grip, only catching dirt and stones and your fingernails ripping.

He hauled you out to the forest, closely followed by Arevos and a few other legionnaires. They watched, laughing, as Aravos’ son handed your father a blade. Kallon. The only person in this forsaken camp who’d ever spoken to you like a person, now laughing at your torture as if you were only entertainment. The dagger radiated warmth, its metal red from where it had been laying in a nearby campfire. Your crying impossibly grew louder, your pleas ignored as you tried to call for Kallon’s help, tried to bargain, to negotiate, but they didn’t care. They all watched on with vicious smirks as the legionnaires freed your father’s hands and held your wings down for him.

You’d never felt pain like this before. Broken bones, sprained muscles, you were familiar with. This? It didn’t even begin to compare. You felt like it went on for hours, pain drowning out the laughter of the sadists that surrounded you. You wailed and screamed until your throat wouldn’t let anymore more than pained croaks come out, vocal cords giving up on you as your spirit was crushed by the reality of what was happening. Your wings were who you are, and you knew this might be the last time you’d ever see them.

You prayed to the mother to let you dive into unconsciousness, to grant you the peacefulness of death, but your prayers were useless, and you could picture the goddess spitting at your feet in disgust. You were delirious, still feeling every touch and burn of that dagger as it sliced through your flesh as if you were a slaughtered animal, only worth anything torn apart and freed of your vile skin.

An unspeakable amount of time late, bored of the spectacle that was your murder. They let go of your body and left it on the forest floor, every shred of your body and soul bleeding profusely, meeting with dirt and moss. Fertilizer was all you would ever be, all that you were worthy of. Your breath was barely more than a whisper, a crackle of fire inside your chest. When the dark embraced you, your life draining into the ground along with your silent tears, you only felt gratefulness that your torment was over.

Someone was saying your name. It resonated around you despite you barely hearing it, like an echo in a dark cave. You felt the hard floor beneath you, no longer embedded into your grave as distant shouts reached your ears. You were crying, rolled into a fetal position. You were screaming, the crackle of fire and pain ever present within you.

“What the HELL did you do to her, Feyre?”, you heard a deep voice yell.

“I don’t know, I couldn’t stop falling into her memories, it was like I’d fallen through a crack in her mind! I can’t stop seeing it, the torture, the pain…”, a panicked feminine voice replied.

You were still howling like a wounded animal, your eyes closed tightly. A torrent of wind was whipping your face, sharp pain still coursing through your veins, a ghost underneath your skin. You could make out hands slowly lifting you from the ground, startling you into resisting in the darkness, your screaming turning to sobs and pleas of mercy, but cold mist surrounded you, an unknown familiarity only barely making a dent in calming you. You were shaking uncontrollably from your sobs, the pain fainter than it had been moments ago.

“Shh, it’s okay Dove”, a voice whispered to you, even though it still seemed so distant from you, muted in the roaring consuming your mind. “You’re safe, they can’t get you here. You can breathe.”

You couldn’t stop your sobs. It was if every emotion you’d ever felt, ever suppressed were rushing out of you all at once. You were drowning beneath the waves. Firm hands traced circles on your back, and a softer wind laid on your skin like a blanket. Your hands gripped the thin fabric that you felt brush against your fingers. The warm voice kept murmuring, soothing you.

You could only lay there helpless against the never-ending agony as you cried.

When you came to again, it was to the sound of voices again. A soft touch was running over your back.

“She destroyed the sitting room; we can’t let her stay here.”

“Maybe if Feyre hadn’t gone looking in places she shouldn’t have, it could’ve been prevented.” You felt deep vibrations against your cheek.

“Watch it, you’re clearly too invested in her to-”

“Rhys, let him be.” A feminine voice, this time. “What matters here is how she even managed to summon that storm. We didn’t even feel any power from her and then this happens… I showed Mor, and she said it was exactly like the one I’d made before she saved me from Tamlin’s manor. We can’t just-”

You couldn’t help a whimper from leaving you from the tension the room, your hands flat against the same fabric as before. You felt exhaustion down to every single bone in your body. The surface against which you laid shifted, the warm circles stopping for just a moment.

“Az… We’ll come back later, but we need to meet whenever possible. We haven’t told Lucien yet, he’s with Elain at their cottage, but I won’t be able to hold keep in the dark for long, and we all know he’ll freak out.”

“Just let me handle it for now, Rhys.”

You felt the sun harshly against your eyelids and back as you gained more awareness and tried to blink the sleep out of your eyes to grasp your surroundings. You stretched out your legs a little, the hand on your back tightening and keeping you from going too far. Your eyes got used to the light, and you became aware of the body underneath your hands. You squinted and looked up at Azriel, sighing. He was watching you like a hawk, worry written all over his face.

Wait. Azriel?

You yelped and jumped out of his hold, almost toppling over the side of the bed from the force of your wings snapping shut, Azriel’s hands stopping you from falling face first of the ground by gripping your waist and lifting you up into a sitting position in front of him.

Your eyes widened as you scampered to the foot of the bed away from him, your brain still in a fog of exhaustion that confused your senses and your heart beating like a hummingbird’s. How did you end up here?

“What- What happened?”, you said, agitated and too tired to wrangle your demeanor into calculated cold.

“Feyre didn’t have the decency to keep her curiosity under control when she paid a little visit to your memories, that’s what happened.”, he grumbled, still watching you as if he feared you’d run for the door at any moment.

His fear wasn’t unfounded. You were considering the option, still freaking out a little over the proximity you two had shared.

You looked around yourself, finally realizing that the two of you were in the bedroom you’d been staying in, a book still open face down on the other side of the bed just like you’d left it to talk to Lucien. You could faintly remember talking to Feyre, the relief you’d felt… And then the terror. It all came rushing back and you curled against yourself. Shadows wrapped around your ankles and legs softly, cooling your now overheated skin.

“She saw… she saw everything, didn’t she?”, you said, your voice cracking. Your eyes filled with tears again.

“She only saw the worst of it. She didn’t elaborate much, but I think we all understood what she’d seen.” His hands were clenched into fists, knuckles white, and he immediately relaxed them when he caught you looking. You studied his hands, the scarred skin. It looked just like the scars you carried from the torture your father had put you through.

“If it means anything”, he continued, “I truly am sorry that happened to you. It’s something you should never have gone through. To know that Arevos had a part to play in it too… We’ll deal with him.”

You looked up from his hands, a question dawning on you. “Did you… Did you see my wings?”

He shook his head. “Only the backside of them, they relaxed when you fell asleep. I was careful not to let you on your back, I didn’t want you to injure them.”

You let out a shaky breath of relief, whispering your thanks. He could’ve easily used the opportunity to examine the mess of scars that laid there, along with the only clear sign of your Illyrian heritage. Hints of it were everywhere, from the softer tip of your ear, your more angular wings, and the above-average length of their terminal bones, but you could pass as full-blooded Peregryn. You still had the typical hollow bones, the eye color and skin tone of their people.

What stood out, however, was only visible when you fully extended your wings. The soft dawn that protected the base of your flight feathers wasn’t the pure, untainted white or vibrant gold of your comrades. Instead, the light feathers emerged from midnight-black tufts that lined the skin. Only in flight could it been truly seen, but it was enough to mark you as the one thing the population of the Dawn court hated most: A half-breed, specifically one whose father was a disgusting Illyrian.

Azriel could’ve easily just lifted your wing and looked, and you would’ve never known. Yet, he didn’t. Your heart warmed a little from its current apathy.

“Am I cleared, then? Free to go?”

His face dropped from aggravation to something akin to... nervousness? “We know you can be trusted if that’s what you’re wondering. Feyre left you the choice of leaving, so you weren’t forced to exit the court after what happened. There’s something else you need to know before you go though, and it’s got the others worried.”

You frowned. You were less eager to depart from Velaris than you thought you’d be, but your freedom was your priority. You didn’t want another reason for them not to let you go.

“When you were reliving the memory, something peculiar happened. I don’t think Feyre was expecting it, given the look on her face when I flew in. You may have… whipped up a storm in the sitting room. More precisely, you summoned one.”

“That’s impossible. I don’t have powers.”, you stated, confused. Was this his idea of a prank? If so, it was needlessly cruel.

He hesitated, clearly considering his next words carefully. “We thought that too, but you really did create it. It was your energy, even if it didn’t feel as clear as it should. You used it like a shield surrounding you. Feyre couldn’t even get close to you.”

Shock coursed through you. You’d never shown any signs of power, much to the dismay of your parents. You’d always been the disappointment. The result of the union of one of the greatest Illyrian warriors and a commander of the Dawn court was expected to be of great power, even if considered as lesser than. It became clear quickly as you grew that you weren’t, and unable to use what little you had of it. You could fight, sure, but power? Not a chance.

“I spent the first 18 years of my life being tested relentlessly in every manner known to man.”, you said. “How is this even possible?”

“We’re not exactly sure, but the theory so far is that Feyre may have unlocked your capabilities when she went digging through your mind. Quite violently too, given the state of the room.”, he nervously laughed. “It wasn’t the first time this happened, either.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that the other day, you left a burn so deep in the doorknob of the study that I’m surprised it didn’t catch fire.”

The study? Oh. That study. Your face flushed. Knowing what you did now, you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed by your reaction.

“I’m sorry.”, you whispered.

Azriel almost growled as he got closer to you, reaching out a hand to lay on your crossed knees. “You have nothing to apologize for. I should’ve known better. God I…” He paused, rubbing a hand over his face. “I can’t begin to imagine how it felt, you had every right to end it there. I’m just grateful it was the door, not me.”

You looked up at him. His hand still covered his face, and he was stiff as a board.

You considered silently your next move. You were still exhausted, and you definitely weren’t thinking right, but you were just so tired of always pretending. Always keeping up a cold front, always distancing yourself from any who dared approach you. Since you’d met him, you’d been nothing but cruel to him. All of this for your false impression of the rulers of the Night court, and a single insult from centuries ago. Your heart was screaming at you to say something, do anything other than shut yourself off. For once, you listened.

“Look, Azriel, I… I’m not sure how I feel right now, I’m lost, and I can’t make sense of anything.” You gently laid a hand over the one that covered your knee. “What I do know is that we clearly started off with misconceptions about each other.”

His eyes snapped to yours, lowering his hand. “I think we agree on that.”, he chuckled dryly, the hold on your knee tightening slightly before letting go. His shadows retreated from you abruptly, as if forced to. He abruptly stood up and started pacing with his back turned to you. His fists were clenched again. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable here. I feel like I’ve imposed enough.”, he said. “I’m the one who dragged you here, threatening you with torture or mind-breaking, and it was so wrong to force myself on you then and now keeping you here with me, you’ve got enough going on as is, and I should ask Lucien to come up here to stay with you, he’s the one who you feel comfortable with-”

His breath stuttered as you threaded your arms around his ribcage after you’d silently tip-toed over to his position. You were careful not to touch his wings and you laid your cheek against his back. You felt him shudder as his arms captured yours at his front, his head dropping. The heat of him didn’t help your drowsy state but his shadows reached out tentatively and encircled you again when a sigh of contentment escaped you.

You couldn’t say why you trusted this man. You didn’t have many memories together, especially positive ones, but something in him drawn you to him like a siren would a ship. You knew there was more to him than he let others see, and your own shattered self resonated with his.

“I don’t agree, Az.”, you whispered softly. He hummed in dissent, but you just gripped him tighter. “If I’d wanted you out of here you would’ve known. I quite remember my knee doing some damage last time you hurt me.”

He laughed, startled, the vibrations coursing up your arms.

“I don’t need to start wearing special armor around you, then?”, he said.

“Not yet, no.”

A moment of silence, the two of you wrapped around each other, unmoving in the sunlit room.

“I meant it when I thanked you.”, you finally said. “For staying with me last night, for getting me out of there in the first place. For letting me fall apart.”

“I couldn’t leave you there.”, he breathed. “I felt the bargain disappear and then I heard your screams from miles away. I thought- I don’t know what I thought. I raced here as felt as I could.”

You bowed your head, even though you knew he couldn’t see you. You were starting to feel faint. Using your newfound powers apparently took a lot more energy than you’d assumed. You really needed to sleep.

Your grip on his ribs loosened as you tried to take a step backwards. Your legs failed beneath you, but Azriel, always as fast as a falcon, stopped your fall and held you up against his chest. You gazed up as his hazel eyes, lingering on his perfect skin and his soft lips for a second. A few curled strands were separated from the rest, and you softly passed your fingers through his hair, unsuccessful in your attempt to tame them. His stare was warm, and he gave you a small smile, not commenting on your unashamed appreciation of his features. You could’ve kept watching him for hours.

“I think I might need to rest a few minutes before we talk more.”

“You’ll be lucky if you’re awake within that day.”, Azriel sighed. He lifted you softly onto the bed, as if to lay you down and leave. You didn’t let him go.

“Stay. Please.”, you croaked, looking up at him. His hair was still all over the place, his frame highlighted by the sweater he wore. He looked beautiful, exhausted as he may be. The sun created a halo of light around him. An angel, you thought.

He sat down on the bed, keeping you close as you grabbed his shoulders to pull yourself up to lay against his chest, your face buried in his neck, breathing in the smell of cedar and mist that always surrounded him. He chuckled at your tight grip.

“I’ll be here when you wake up, Dove. Take the time you need.”

You fell asleep to the sound of his breath and to the rhythm of his heart, drumming slowly alongside yours.

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Taglist: @sapphenaa

#azriel x reader #azriel #acotar #acotar x reader #acotar fanfic #azriel fanfic #azriel POV #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #enemies to lovers #bird of prey

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alonetimelover · 1 year

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Action! - Heartbreak Anniversary- 2023

Pairings: ex!Harry Styles x Director!Reader x Joseph Quinn

Summary: Harry has an emotional and heartfelt conversation with his mother and sister. If it wasn't heartbreaking enough - to be this vulnerable and open - they had some news for him. Something that would tip the scales at the breaking point.

Warnings: it's angst. harry's not very polite. some self-degrading talk. some swear words. pregnancy is mentioned.

Word count: ~3,4k

A/N: While writing the whole thingy I was listening to this beautiful song, Heartbreak Anniversary (hence the title) by Giveon. It inspired this piece of a story, so give it a listen.

series masterlist let's talk about action!universe

“How do you feel after today’s session, Harry?”

“Pretty good. It’s - it’s nice to talk about it with someone, someone unbiased,” Harry expressed, searching for the right words. Words that would sound convincing. He knew Doctor McCanister would catch him on his lies but he needed to at least try.

“You’re lucky this session is almost over. You’re capping over and over again. You trusted me with so much from your past and present, why do you think you can’t trust me with this?”

After a solid minute of silence Harry whispered, “I don’t know. She was - she is still important to me even though she’s no longer a part of my life. Knowing it all could be different if I hadn’t done what I did. It - it’s making me overthink, reminding myself of everything I did wrong.”

“Does it work for you?”

“What?”

“Keeping it all to yourself, slowly rotting in this feeling.” She noted something down in her brown notebook. “All that emotional build-up is going to explode sooner rather than later, Harry,” Dr McCanister warned him.

“I don’t think I’m ready. I have this thought in the back of my head that if I tell anybody all that is here,” he placed his pointing finger to his temple, “and here,” moving the finger to his heart, “I’m going to lose her forever. Those thoughts and feelings are the last thing I have of her. Emotional thing.”

From the look on Doctor’s face he knew he needed to justify his words.

“Umm, I have lots of photos or her, old clothes that she’d never taken from ou- my house in LA. But they don’t bring me any - I dunno - there’s no comfort. No warmth. And when I’m thinking of her, of us, it brings me that comfort.”

“And pain?”

“I deserve it. I am responsible for our relationship ending on that bad foot, I am responsible for everything bad that happened to her after the breakup. It’s all my fault. And if a minute of comfort from the memories of her, and feelings that I still have for her cost me hours and days and weeks of sorrow and pain, then so be it. I’ll do anything to feel somehow 1% as happy as I felt with her by my side.”

It was the first time Harry spoke honestly about YN and their past relationship. It was a taboo whenever he went, even therapy. He knew the importance of speaking up about his feelings, sharing his emotions so he wouldn’t be alone to deal with them. But after losing YN, it wasn’t present in his relations with other people.

He felt like he deserved the pain. He hurt her so now he was the one to be hurt.

When they broke up - when YN broke up with him - he didn’t understand the importance she as a person had in his life. The scant and ethereal feeling succumbed him away from YN. Something new, exciting, nonroutine. Someone new fascinated him. Before he knew it, he was already gone, letting himself fall for an unknown.

He regretted it greatly, but it was too late. She moved on.

Everyone thought he moved on too. While still being in a relationship with YN, he moved on. But it was wrong. To the last day of their relationship he was faithful, and at the same time he let himself be pulled away, forget momentarily.

After calming down a little and doing a few breathing exercises with Dr McCanister, Harry left the clinic, having paid for the session.

On his way home, the phone call disrupted his Rumours listening session.

“‘Ello? I’m driving so I hope it’s important.”

“Hello my darling. Put me on speaker,” Anne said, her voice breaking here and there.

Harry did as his mum told him to, “all done. How are you, mum?”

“Good. Good. The weather is finally nice, so-"

“You didn’t call me to talk about the weather, did you?” Harry interrupted his mother, making her very audibly swallow. “Something happened?”

“No, no. Do you have some time to spare for your mother’s visit?”

“And sister’s!” Harry heard Gemma's voice shouting over Anne’s.

“Of course. I’m just going back from my appointment with Dr McCanister. I’ll be home in about 15 minutes? That’s alright with you?”

“Oh sure, sweetie. I’ve got a key to your house. We’ll just let ourselves in.”

“Okay, see you soon.”

***

When Harry got home, Anne and Gemma were already there, making themselves comfortable. Anne was making tea in the kitchen and Gemma, like always, was snooping for some new vinyls or papers with song ideas. Harry was used to leaving them everywhere.

“Hello there. To what do I owe the pleasure of having you both here?” Harry asked while walking into the living room.

“Like we can’t visit your annoying ass, brother,” Gemma laughed, smirking at pouting Harry.

“Gemma, be nice,” Anne reprimanded, walking inside the room. “Cannot we visit once in a while? We haven’t seen each other since you started the break.” She turned to her youngest child.

“I know. It’s nice to see you, mum.” Harry swiftly came up to his mother and embraced her in a bone-crushing hug, swaying from left to right. “Missed you.”

“Oh, I missed you, too, honey.”

“Ekhem,” Gemma interrupted the heartfelt moment between mother and son. “I’m here, too. And I also missed you, H.”

Harry smiled at his mother, teasingly rolling his eyes at Gemma’s words, making Anne grin at him. She loved her children so much, that seeing them being so close to each other was the best thing a mother could ask for.

“Come here.”

After the warm and longed-for siblings’ hug, and the joint one with their mother, they all moved to the patio to have the tea. Harry, unprepared for any visit, found some cookies to go with the beverages.

The weather outside was beautiful, this year's July was surprisingly warm in London. Harry’s garden was blossoming, different flowers, bushes and trees waking up to life, beautifying the area. At the same time, it needed a gardener. Since YN, no one put a foot near the beds. Weeds were slowly overcoming parts of the place.

His garden was the living epitome of him. There wasn’t a gardener good enough, good like the last one, to help.

“How was the appointment with Dr McCanister?”

Harry tensed at the question. He wanted to forget about that meeting.

“Like always. Hard.”

This time Gemma tensed. It was hurting her to see how much Harry was struggling. Years after the break up, he couldn’t get up, couldn’t find peace. He loved her too much, if that was possible.

“Did you talk about her?”

“Yeah.”

“And how did that make you feel?”

“It’s not therapy anymore, mum. I’ve had one already. Talked enough about feelings.” Harry sounded frustrated, was frustrated.

“And I’m not your therapist but a mother that worries about her son.”

“There’s nothing you can do about it. Nothing. It’s - she - she’s gone. Not here anymore, she’s got her life with someone else, and I can’t stand it.” Harry hid his face in his hands, pulling at the locks of hair. The emotional build-up that Dr McCanister was talking about, making its presence known. “It’s been three years. Exactly three years. And - and I hate this day.”

Anne just sat down next to Harry, placing her hand on his back, stroking it slowly. Comforting him. He didn’t need anyone to ask questions, he needed someone to listen.

“I don’t deserve to think about her because I was the one to contribute to her leaving me. It was all my fault-”

“Harry, stop. It wasn’t-”

“No, mum. It was. It is. I didn’t cherish her. I let myself be captivated by the bliss of a relationship that I had with Olivia. I threw away three years with YN to follow the excitement of something new. It was my decision and it’s something I’m gonna regret forever. And now? Look at me? Look at her.” Harry scoffed.

“She’s happy,” said Gemma, earning an uneasy look from her mother. “And you need to accept that.”

“Easy to say not being in my shoes.”

“You’re not the only one that lost her, Harry,” Gemma said firmly.

“Gemma, not now.”

“Yes, now, mum. You,” she pointed at Harry. “You were everything to her. She got people promising her the moon, sending flowers. She didn’t bat an eye. She was in love with you. She was-”

“Don’t say that.”

“What? She was, Harry. She loved you so much. She cared about you, supported you, followed you everywhere. She was there for you any second. Any moment you needed her, she was there. And what did you do with that?”

She left the question to linger in the air. She bottled her feelings up for those three years.

YN was her best friend. Her sister. They understood each other without words. And with the break up happening, it wasn’t the same. YN didn’t feel comfortable with her or Anne as she did in the past. They still talked, met up, and had sleepovers. But it wasn’t the same.

Gemma understood that Harry losing the love of his life, by his own mistake, was hard for him. And it hurted her seeing him heartbroken. At the same time, she was angry. He hurted YN. Made her leave him. That’s at least how she understood the situation. YN didn’t talk much about the breakup with anyone.

“I screw up, alright? I know that, Gem. I know! Do you think I’m blaming her for that breakup? No! It was my fault. I drove to that. I thought I lost my feelings. I thought there was not much love between us anymore. I realised it too late. I know it! All of it. And it hurts.”

Harry before starting his monologue had stood up, and paced back and forth.

“It hurts so bad. I dream of her. I see her everywhere. Her - her things are still here, staring at me like souvenirs. I look at my phone every night, going through our pictures. Our texts, the latest that she didn’t answer. I play back the last time we were together each time before falling asleep. I remember everything that I said and didn’t say. I remember her face, the smile slowly fading. Tears strolling down her cheeks. Pain in her eyes. I remember everything.”

“Harry, that's enough. Please, sit down.” Anne tried to pull him off that self-degrading talk.

“You know what’s funny?” he asked rhetorically, sitting down on the grass. “That night at the venue, three years ago, when - when I proposed,” he sobbed softly. “I had the speech. How she made me happy and was my family, and - and how you guys treated her like a daughter and sister you’ve never had. How I appreciated her work and our relationship. And - umm - I praised her.”

Harry took a pause, breathing deeply, trying to calm down a bit. Unsuccessfully.

“I wasn’t looking at her till she stopped me. I - I couldn’t look into her eyes deep down knowing how I felt, really felt at that moment. She stopped me, asking one question.”

“Do you still love me?”

Her voice was shaky because of all the crying. He didn't look at her once today. From the moment he picked her, through the dinner they had at the restaurant and till the moment she stopped his proposals. Somewhere deep in herself she knew why he wasn’t able to look at her, but was hoping she wasn’t right. It all was going to be a nightmare. She was going to wake up next to him, sleeping soundly.

He looked at her.

And stayed silent.

YN learned that day how loud the silence could be. How definitive and thundering it could feel. Terminating.

“Do you?” she choked out.

There was no sound of the voice. Just the one of a heart breaking apart.

“She dropped my hand and left, saying she’d be out of my house in an hour. It was our house, our home. We were supposed to grow old here. To - to spend forever there.”

“Harry, honey. You need to let her go.”

“I can’t! Don’t you understand? Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t be able to do that. It’s the last thing bringing me joy in life. She’s my antidote. Always has been, always will be.”

Gemma sat next to Harry and hugged him. He sobbed into her neck, shaking heavily. She felt his pain and regretted deeply her words that encouraged and strengthen that feeling of guilt Harry had.

Anne was sitting on the chair still, crying. It was the first time she heard the story about the engagement.

“Is she happy? Really happy?” Harry asked after calming down a little.

“She is,” answered Anne. “Joseph, he’s a good man. He treats her well.”

“Have you met?”

Gemma looked at Anne worried. They met Joseph. Went to dinner with him and YN a few times. Last time was just two days ago, when they came back from Italy.

YN wanted Anne and Gemma to know it before the pictures were uploaded. Joseph threatening paparazzi with charges bought her a few days to tell some important people in her and Joseph's lives about their secret.

“Why are you looking at each other like that? Is he really good?”

“He is,” Gemma answered immediately.

If Harry couldn’t be the one for YN, Joseph was perfect. There was something between them that no one understood. The way they looked at, understood or talked about each other was so unique, so genuine. It was heartwarming to see YN being that happy after what she had gone through with Harry.

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Two days ago we met for dinner.”

“Gemma, it’s not a good time to be talkin’ about it. Please,” Anne begged, knowing the news would crush her son tremendously.

“It’s never going to be a good time, mum,” she said to her mother. It would be better if Harry learned that information from her and not the internet. “YN is taking a break from her career. For the next two or three years.”

“Why?”

“She’s pregnant,” Gemma whispered after a moment of silence.

If it was possible, they would hear Harry’s heart being ripped out of his chest and thrown to the ground. Laying there broken in a million pieces, not possible to glue back together. It was over. Now like ever, it felt real. He lost her. There was no possibility anymore, no prospect. The final curtain dropped.

“Do you want kids?” Harry asked, tracing shapes on YN’s naked back. Her head was lying on his chest, close to his heart.

“Someday, when I’m ready to be responsible for another human being. Do you?"

“I’ve always dreamt of a big family.”

“How big?”

“How big would you want?”

“Two for sure. So they would be able to take care of themselves when mum wants a quick break.”

“With dad?” He smirked.

“Stop it!” She slapped his chest playfully, looking up at him with a big smile on her face. “But maybe.”

Harry grinned at her and kissed her lips. Because of the smiling and laughing their teeth would clash, but they didn’t care. That moment they were so happy. Nothing else mattered.

“Is she - they - are they healthy? YN and the baby?” He asked finally.

“Yeah, healthy as a horse. Both of them. Pregnancy treats her well,” Anne said carefully, not knowing if Harry was going to lash out any minute.

“That’s good. That's good. It’s what matters the most, right?” It sounded like a programmed answer.

Harry gently made his mother loosen the grip she had on his shoulders. He needed to get up, to get away from people. He felt all of the emotions slowly entering his mind, his soul. Breathing started to get harder. More tears gathering in his eyes. Stabbing pain in his chest was getting more severe, but it couldn’t be his heart. He had lost it with that information.

“I - I’m tired,” he tried saying, but it sounded more like a whimper.

“Harry, my sweet boy.”

Anne walked up to him, trying to make him look at her, and failing. He dropped her hands, which had been briefly placed on his cheeks. There was no way to calm him down. No way to help him. How, if his heart wasn’t there? When the last drop of hope vanished, leaving his chest dry as a desert.

“I want to be alone.”

“You shouldn’t be. You don’t have to be alone. Please, let me - let us be here for you” his mum begged.

“I’ll call you, okay? I need to be alone, mum.”

And after more convincing from Anne, she and Gemma left. There wasn’t a chance for Harry to cave in.

The moment the front door closed, Harry sat on the floor hugging his knees to his chest. He swayed back and forth because of the sobs that were escaping his mouth. His eyes were like a river source, but a river was of tears. And it wasn’t slowing down, much less stopping. It was staining his cheeks, slowly moving to the red T-shirt he was wearing, decorating it with darker spots.

Deep down he was happy for her. After all, she always wanted to be a mother. She talked about dreaming of the family she could have, would love to have. Those times, she wanted it with him. However, they never came to the conclusion of what names were perfect. Maybe it was better for him.

He pulled out his phone from the jeans’ pocket and clicked the message icon. Was he going to text her? Yes. Was that a mistake? Yes. But he couldn’t stop typing.

Harry

Congratulations on your pregnancy, YN. Hoping the baby and you are healthy, H.

He didn’t count on the response. Considering that his previous messages to her were rather misplaced, he wouldn’t be surprised if she had blocked him. For a long time he was making decisions that he knew were wrong, that were probably hurting her current relationship. And, as bad as it sounded, and felt, it was giving him false hope. It was cruel of him. Desperation made him do things that were hurting her. And he would repeat them until the moment he realised that he was a bad guy. That when he told everybody he had never wanted to hurt her, he was still doing it.

Then the process would repeat itself.

yn🌻

Thank you, harry. We’re feeling great, baby’s healthy

And if he wasn’t surprised enough with one text, he got another.

yn🌻

Annie’s said you took a break, how is it going?

Unconsciously, he slipped into that process, hurting her again with his words.

Harry

You don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to. I understand. Just wanted to congratulate you after mom told me about your pregnancy.

yn🌻

I think I'm mature enough to put the past in the past. Also anne is seemingly worried about you, Harry.

But if you don’t feel comfortable yet, then it’s okay. Thank you again for the message. Hope you are well.

Those two messages came in immediately after his. He wanted to write so much. Tell her how he was feeling. How lost and broken he was. Tell her how much he loved her. Missed her. Longed for her. How, every night, he dreamt of her. Happy dreams with them being content and together. And nightmares, much more frequent, where she wasn’t his. Nightmares that were blending into reality.

With his phone screen still showing those messages, he finally moved from the floor, slowly walking to the bedroom. He placed the phone on the bed and walked up to the wardrobe. From under colourful sweaters he pulled out the one he was looking for.

He laid down on the bed, and cuddled the soft material, inhaling its scent. It no longer was hers, but the fact she made it for him and wore it more frequently than him, could make up for that.

When the wind started to come through the open windows, he didn’t move. It was cold outside, like when she walked out of his life. It was cold like the day they had their first date. Like the day they met, when he thought about forever with her.

These days feel like you and me, Harry thought.

He put the sweater on, turning to the side of the bed where his phone was lying. Where she used to lay.

Harry

Do you ever think of me?

deleted

#action!universe #director!reader #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles angst #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn

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beefromanoff · 7 months

Text

Project Mockingbird Ch. 3

summary: the first official encounter with James Buchanan Barnes is...not exactly love at first sight.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC

author's note: let me know what you think! thanks for reading, xox!

tag list: @bangtanxberm (let me know if you want to be added <3)

chapter list

_________________________________________________________

I was exhausted.

For my first full day, we’d toured the entire facility, and I still felt like there was so much I hadn’t seen. There were rooms full of screens with dozens of agents talking on headsets, rooms with mechanical arms and welding sparks flying, rooms with so many weapons I felt like I was on a military base. It seemed to go on forever. Hangars, shooting ranges, labs, even an extensive medical wing for mission or training injuries. Natasha and Steve had been more than accommodating, staying with me through dinner. I’d met a few other Avengers, ones I recognized from either the news or online. It felt like a strange, high-tech college dorm, with ultra-powerful roommates. Not that I knew what that was like.

I’d spent what should have been my college years in living hell. Not something I wanted to think about at that particular moment, though. I was just glad to be back in my room. Just glad to have a room to call my own, really. I twisted on the bed, my back sinking into the plush bedding. The feeling of a comfortable bed after a hot shower would never lose that euphoric feeling. Not when I’d gone so long without it before.

This room was unfamiliar, yet strangely comforting. Soft light filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow on the walls. The bed felt good beneath me, oddly similar to those of the luxurious suites I’d grown so accustomed to in Vegas over the past few weeks.

A shiver tore through my body as an unwelcome thought reminded me of the cold, rickety hospital bed I’d spent so many nights sleeping on before my escape. How long ago was that? Years? Decades? I shook my head, willing the thoughts to fall out of my ears and never return. There was so much I still didn’t remember.

Taking a deep breath, I focused on something good. A friend. Natasha had assured me this was a safe place, but could I really trust it? Could I trust her?

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried again to silence the doubts swirling in my mind.

This room, it's like a cage that's too comfortable to be real. How did I end up here? How did Natasha convince me to trust her, to trust them? I’ve spent so long avoiding people, avoiding connections. And now, I’m here, surrounded by... superheroes? I’m supposed to believe they have no other motive?

She said I don’t have to work with them, I don’t have to fight. Why would she say that if it isn’t true? To get me to come with her. God, I’m so dumb. Of course they’ll want me to fight. Why else would they want me here at all. The only thing I can do is fight.

At least if I’m here, I’d be fighting for the good guys this time. At least, I hope so.

Natasha, she’s different. Right? I saw it in her eyes. She understands what it means to fight against the darkness. She told me the Avengers are a family, a team. She had no one before them. I have no one now. Can I really have that too? Would they accept me if they knew…knew everything?

Closing my eyes tighter, I try to push away the memories of the experiments, the pain, the fear. Flashes of white, hot anger and blinding rage.

Natasha said they'd protect me. She said I could start anew here. But how can I trust these people I barely know? What if this is just another trap, another illusion to get me to do someone’s bidding?

I feel a lump forming in my throat.

I have to give it a chance, don't I? I have to believe in something. Believe in someone. Maybe this room, this bed, is more than just a comfortable cage. Maybe it’s a sanctuary, a haven where I can rebuild what HYDRA took away from me.

Maybe I can have a life here.

Taking a deep breath, I remind myself that I'm not alone anymore. I'm not that scared, fragile girl they took to their labs so long ago. I’m not the angry, violent assassin who escaped them.

I’m Charlotte Rossi, and I survived. I survived all of it. I survived for a reason.

Maybe, just maybe, I can learn to trust these Avengers. Maybe I can find a new purpose here, a reason to fight back.

As sleep started to claim me, I took a shuddering breath, making a promise to myself:

I'll give them a chance. I’ll trust them. For Natasha. For me.

And with that, I let the darkness take me, hoping that when I woke, I'd find the strength to face this new chapter of my life, whatever it may bring.

The night had been turbulent, the remnants of my nightmares still lingering in the corners of my mind like cobwebs. I had always found solace in the quiet hours before dawn, where the world seemed to hold its breath, and the horrors of the past felt momentarily distant.

Slipping out of bed, I padded through the dark common room to the balcony, my bare feet cold against the smooth tiles. Like everything here, the balcony was pristine and expanse. It stretched in a large semi-circle, boasting the best view of the entire compound. Except maybe the one you’d get from any of their impressive aircraft.

The first hints of sunrise painted the sky in soft hues of pink and orange, casting a serene glow over the lake. As I settled into a chair, the tranquility of the morning wrapped around me like a comforting blanket. Nightmares weren’t new to me, but I never quite learned to quickly bounce back from them. There was still a cold sheen of sweat on my chest as I leaned back, taking in my surroundings.

My attention was drawn to the trail surrounding the compound's lake, where a figure emerged from the early morning mist. I tensed out of instinct. He moved with a surprising amount of grace for someone of his size, every step purposeful and powerful. Even from a distance, I recognized him - James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier.

There was an undeniable magnetism about him, something in the way he carried himself, a nearly predatory confidence that was both captivating and intimidating. A shiver ran through me as I watched him turn a corner and disappear from sight.

I knew I’d see him eventually, it was inevitable. Some part of me found peace in the kindness of the rest of the team. If there was going to be an issue with my being here, surely I’d have picked up on it by now. Why would they have even brought me here if anyone had a problem with it?

Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t notice Steve approaching until his shadow fell over me. He held out a steaming mug of coffee, the aroma rich and inviting. "Couldn’t sleep either?" he asked, his blue eyes kind and understanding.

I accepted the coffee with a grateful nod, the warmth seeping into my hands as I wrapped them around the mug. "Thank you," I murmured, taking a tentative sip.

"Want something to do today?" Steve’s voice was casual, inviting. "I have a training session with some of the agents. You're welcome to watch. Might give you a sense of what we do here."

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the prospect of witnessing their training firsthand, but cautious about any hidden motive.

“Don’t worry, I’m not trying to rope you into participating.” Steve lowered his own mug. “I don’t like ulterior motives. If there’s ever something I think, you’ll know it. I’m just a guy who was new here at one point too, I know the first few weeks can be a little…aimless.”

Chuckling, I nodded. “Yeah, you could say that. I was hoping for some kind of activities list, like at summer camp.”

“You went to summer camp?” He looked incredulous.

“I’ve seen movies.”

“Ah,” He sipped his coffee. “That’s where I learned about -” He gestured vaguely. “Everything, I suppose.”

There was a moment of silence as he decided if he was going to address the obvious.

“I had a lot to catch up on, too.” He spoke softly. “For a while, I had to write down everything new about the world that I wanted to remember. I watched a lot of movies, probably not historically accurate, but I definitely enjoyed learning that way.” He smiled, looking back at me. “Not a lot of people can relate. Just know I’m here.”

“Thanks, Steve.” I pressed my lips together in a small smile.

“For what it’s worth, you’re much more well-adjusted than I ever was. You must catch on quick.”

“You have no idea.”

We leisurely finished our coffee before going to our respective rooms to get dressed. I had returned to my room to find a small pile of folded black clothes on the bed beneath a handwritten note.

‘In case you don’t feel like wearing sequins all week - xo, Nat’

I grinned, pulling out a set of black workout tights and a matching long sleeved top. It was chilly out here, which I guess was to be expected from upstate New York in October. Not nearly the balmy temperatures of Nevada. I did a quick change, laced up my sneakers, and met Steve back in the common room so we could make our way to the training wing.

The moment I stepped inside, I was awestruck by the high-tech setup. The room was a marvel of modern design, sleek and functional, with state-of-the-art exercise equipment lining the walls. Rows of punching bags hung from the ceiling, several sparring rings placed throughout the massive room.

The sound of bodies moving and the echo of instructions filled the air. Agents in SHIELD uniforms were scattered across the training mats, engaged in various forms of combat. Steve led me to a vantage point where I could observe the proceedings without being in the way.

A small group of six agents stood around one of the mats, waiting for him. They paused their stretching to greet him as we walked up.

“Team, this is Charlotte. She’s going to be around for a while, I trust you’ll all make her feel welcome.” Steve’s words were met with nods and various greetings towards me, to which I smiled and tried to look as non-threatening as possible. Maybe they’ll think I’m just someone’s long-lost cousin, here to visit for a few months.

Steve’s movements were a symphony of precision and power as he demonstrated different combat techniques to the agents. His punches were lightning-fast, his blocks seamless. Each motion was deliberate, a testament to his expertise. The way he moved, the way he fought, it was both beautiful and awe-inspiring. I could tell he was pulling his punches, using as much effort to go easy on the agents as they were to try and land a single blow on him. Super soldier strength was no joke.

I watched, captivated, as he guided the agents, offering corrections and encouragement in equal measure. There was a quiet intensity about him, a dedication to his craft that was impossible to miss. At that moment, I understood why he was the leader of the Avengers, why he was Captain America. He was confident, not arrogant. Kind, yet firm. He had their respect but he so clearly respected them as well. He was the kind of guy you’d want to follow into battle.

As the training session continued, I found myself drawn into the rhythm of their movements, the energy in the room palpable. Despite myself, I felt familiar patterns happening within me. My eyes tracked their movements, clocking every position, every wince, every shift of weight from one foot to the other. With an almost computerized precision, my mind began to catalog the fighting style of all six agents and the super soldier right in front of me.

Later that day, I retreated to the workout facility in the Avengers’ building. It was smaller, but equally as nice. There were small modifications, clearly for accommodating superhumans. For starters, the ceilings were much higher, likely to accommodate for those who could clear a 30 foot tree in a single jump. The weights ranged far beyond the standard 45 lb plates and 100 lb dumbbells, which was where the other facility capped out.

I punched a few buttons on the treadmill and worked up to a moderate pace. The row of treadmills faced the lake, already one of my favorite things to look at. I focused on the trees, the wind rustling through them. I controlled my breathing, thankful for the peace and quiet. The solitude lasted a good half hour before I heard the door slide open.

“Hey stranger,” Natasha’s familiar rasp announced her presence.

“Long time no see,” I tugged the safety cord out of the treadmill and let myself slide off the back, landing on my feet.

“Heard you got to see Rogers in action today?” She strode over and took a seat on the bench nearest me.

I shrugged. “The basket weaving class was full.”

“Well, if you want to see the more exciting training sessions, I help out with weapons and hand-to-hand a few days a week.” She winked.

“If I had known that, I wouldn’t have wasted my first training session on Steve!” I mocked a tantrum.

“Hey, super-soldier hearing here.” Steve strode through the door, right on cue.

“Beat it, Rogers, we’re having a girl talk.”

Dropping his bag, Steve pulled out a roll of tape and began wrapping his hands for what I assume would be a round of sparring, either with the punching bag or an actual person. “You’re just mad I set the bar so high with Charlotte’s first training experience.” He grinned.

Raising my eyebrow, I watched as Natasha rolled her eyes and grinned. There was so clearly something between them, it took me less than 48 hours to pick up on it. I wondered if it was something they’d explored yet, or if they lived in denial.

Before I could make a snappy remark, the doors opened again and in strode the one man I wasn’t sure I was ready to see yet.

Blue eyes snapped up to look at me, and he stopped in his tracks as the door slid shut behind him. Based on the way his jaw clenched, I don’t think he was quite ready to see me either. The world felt like it slowed to half speed, I felt my thoughts get muddled. I was slipping away from reality. No, please no, not here, not now -

White hot light exploded in my skull as I collapsed to my knees, fighting against myself.

“Charlotte!” Natasha was at my side instantly, holding my arm.

“Stop…Me…” My breathing was labored, I spat each word out through gritted teeth as I felt myself losing the internal battle for control.

“What do you mean, what’s going on?” She gripped my upper arm tightly, looking at Steve in concern. He hovered over me, halfway crouched.

Then it all went black.

________________

Steve looked from Natasha to Bucky, still frozen by the door. Charlotte had collapsed to her knees, face contorted in pain. In the few seconds since she’d cried out, sweat had already broken on the back of her neck.

“Stop…Me…” Her voice was somewhere between a growl and a plea.

“What do you mean, what’s going on?” Natasha asked, looking up at Steve. Before anyone could react, Charlotte sent them both tumbling backwards. In one fluid movement, she’d rolled forward and closed the distance between her and Bucky. Her momentum carried her from the roll straight into a fighting stance. Before Nat or Steve could scramble to their feet, she’d swung into a roundhouse kick straight at Bucky’s head.

He ducked, eyes wide with surprise but movements instinctive. Charlotte went straight from her kick into a crouch, swinging her leg to sweep his out from under him. He landed on his back and rolled away from her as she advanced. Left hook, right jab, knee to the ribs, Bucky narrowly blocked each one. She was quick.

For a split second, Bucky took his eyes off of her fists and looked at her face. A chill nearly paralyzed him as he saw the blank expression on her face, the unseeing and glassy eyes. His pause was costly, and he felt the full weight of that when her foot collided with the side of his head. He spat blood on the ground just as Steve’s feet stepped between him and Charlotte.

Steve blocked her jabs as rapidly as they came, with Natasha running up from behind.

“Get the hell out of here!” He yelled at Bucky, still on the ground as blood pooled from the cut on his eyebrow. “Go!”

Bucky didn’t question it, rolling to his feet and sprinting out the door.

Natasha came from above and wrapped her legs around Charlotte’s neck, throwing her to the ground. Without releasing her, she continued to squeeze. Steve dropped down, pinning her arms as she writhed against Natasha. After a violent resistance, she went limp as she finally passed out.

“What…the hell just happened.” Nat fell back on her elbows, breathing hard.

“I have no idea,” Steve held a hand out, helping her to stand. “Do you think she needs medical?”

“Well, I don’t think we should just go tuck her into bed after this.” Natasha rubbed her sleeve across her forehead, wiping sweat off. “You go check on Barnes, I’ll call up to the room and see if anyone’s here to help me take her in.”

Nodding, Steve took off in a jog after Bucky, following the trail of blood splattered on the ground.

#bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #avengers #bucky barnes x oc #bucky fanfic #bucky fluff #winter soldier #sebastian stan #winter soldier fluff #winter solider x reader

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miszswan · 2 years

Text

PEOPLE YOU KNOW - ii.

part 1

yall...i'm sorry about the length of this <3

It had been fifteen months. Fifteen months since she’d last seen him. Fifteen months since she gave up. Fifteen months since she finally chose herself.

If you were to ask Amiria when the horrible painful part of their relationship started, she could definitely say a year and a half into it.

She started noticing the slight increase in jealousy and possessiveness when she started booking more roles and traveled more. From Vancouver to London, a whole year where she wasn’t in the same place for long periods of time. Meeting new people, becoming close with many too.

Jack must’ve snapped because next thing she knew… she’d see clips of him dancing with other women on Instagram. She’d always confront him but eventually the apologies and promises became meaningless.

From FaceTimes of I love yous’, laughs and tales to FaceTimes that ended in tears, heartbreak and manipulation.

Amiria used to think that one day things would get better but overtime that became harder to believe. Somehow she found herself booking last minute flights to see his shows, spend a night with him and she’d return to work feeling more emotionally drained than before, all because he put the idea into her head that it was her fault that they were constantly arguing. So she tried her best to make it up to him.

Meanwhile it was never her fault. It was always his.

Time after time she’d risk her job and career for a man that would never put any effort into coming to her, times where Neelam, Urban, Clay, Sunni hell even Druski would come visit her on set. To see her in her prime. Not even when they were in the same city, he’d never come.

If there was one thing that Amiria Campbell hated about herself would definitely be how much hope she always had, how kind and thoughtful she was. Those were things that prevented her from seeing that this relationship was a losing game.

When they first met it was amazing, picnic dates every week, movie nights every month, wonderful memories filling the years.

It was honestly embarrassing that she had any more hope when she woke up the morning after and went to set. Found herself throwing up during her lunch break. Thinking that Jack would finally change due to the idea of a baby in the near future.

But she was proven wrong again.

While it was a spontaneous decision she left and hasn’t looked back since.

Did it take a while to get over him?

Yes?

Is she still hurting?

Also yes.

At times if she thinks about it too much she may find herself tearing up randomly but mostly the thing that triggered it the most would unfortunately but not surprisingly, her daughter.

Ani Maiah Margaret Campbell was absolutely perfect. She had the tint of Māori in her skin while bearing her fathers piercing blue eyes. With a mop of curls, courtesy of her father that were as brown as her mothers locks. The most perfect tiny hands and most adorable laugh.

She was the perfect creation of her and Jack. Whether she was planned or not. She was the Pandora’s box to all of her mothers good and bad memories of him.

But for the sake of her future and her daughters’ she had to erase the man from her heart and mind. Piece by piece. Bit by bit. She’d heal over time and rise like a phoenix from the ashes stronger than ever.

Every film and tv series she’d filmed over the past few years had been absolutely worth it.

So now a day had come. One of many. Amiria was honestly finding it very hard to sleep because of all the excitement for the premiere in a couple hours. While her mother and 6 month old daughter we’re having no trouble at all.

The three had flown to New York City a week prior for the premiere of Stranger Things Season 4.

Aroha Campbell had only heard her daughters rambles about being absolutely thrilled for everyone to see what they’d been working on for the past three years or her granddaughter trying to speak which often resulted in a bunch of random babbles and noises.

After spending a few weeks in Bunbury, Amiria returned to Atlanta accompanied by her mother who insisted on moving in with her for sometime. Aroha and Stephen knew thier would push everything… including her career aside to take care of her baby. They also knew how long and how hard she had to work to get to where she was and that if she took this long break it would be even harder to go further.

That’s how it’s been since April the previous year and Amiria couldn’t be more grateful for her parents. Ani was the most easy going baby and it was absolutely perfect, especially after everything Ami had gone through.

So now the three are in a hotel room in New York City. Her co stars in neighbouring rooms waiting for their stylists to arrive and prepare them for the red carpet.

Amiria slowly pulls her fingers out of her baby’s tiny hand and gets out of bed. After freshening up she quickly gives her daughter a bath and dresses her up.

Just as she gets a bottle of milk out of the mini fridge she hears a knock at the door.

“Morning Mrs Campbell.” Amiria hears the sound of her best friend greet her mother. “Good morning to the hottest most amazing single mom I know.” Camila adds on as she gets closer to the mother and daughter.

The moment Ani recognises the familiar face, her arms stretch up in efforts to reach her. “Good morning princess.” Camila coos as she tickles the babies stomach.

Ani let’s out a symphony of giggles that make the three women smile. Camila hands the ice coffee and chocolate croissant to her friend.

“You are a goddess.” Amiria praises her as she takes a sip of the cold drink.

“How did the princess sleep?”

“She was quiet.”

“As usual.” Camila mentions making Amiria snicker as she straps on her babies dipper.

“Thank you for going easy on your mother. She’s had a lot of sh-“ Amiria send her a look towards the end. “Stuff to deal with over the past year.”

“Nice save.” Amiria teases as she puts on the pink one piece onto Ani.

“But seriously I’m happy that she isn’t a lot to deal with. Not like he who shall not be named.” Camila rambles while Amiria makes funny faces to stop Ani from squirming.

After months of not seeing him. Hearing Camila ramble about her hatred for him was honestly one of the most entertaining things she had done. It honestly just made Amiria laugh.

“I haven’t seen or spoken to him in over a year so he really shouldn’t matter anymore”

“Except he does. He’s still Ani’s father and one day she will ask questions about him. I mean you still talk to his mom, dad, Clay. I’m just surprised you didn’t run into him at the met gala a few weeks ago.”

“I know but I’m just avoiding the inevitable.”

“Which is?” Camila says wanting to hear Amiria admit it.

“Someday I’ll have to see him again.” She responds as she gently brushes her daughters hair.

“Which might been sooner than you think.” The moment the words left her mouth Amira paused. “Me knowing you, you’re going to invite the Harlow’s and if they come he surely will.”

Amiria had taken a low of time planning everything to the point where she knew that he wouldn’t be in Atlanta during that time.

“He won’t be in Atlanta or anywhere close to my house in a week Cam.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“He’s never given a shit about my family’s traditions. His family always mattered more, no matter the occasion or the holiday.” Amira assures her best friend. “Besides he has a couple shows in New York and LA.”

“Wait doesn’t that mean he’s in the same city as us-“ Camila starts before the two hear the door close and Aroha Campbell stands in the door frame with the bottle of milk in her hands.

As Campbell women spend a few minutes talking while Camilla plays with her Goddaughter, Amiria returns with the bottle. She takes her baby into her arms and the child begins to suck on the bottle.

“If I run into him, I’ll deal with it.” The words that come out of Amiria’s mouth catch Camila off guard.

Mainly because she’d gotten used to her best friend avoiding him at all possible moments. She was even shocked that she didn’t run into him at the Met Gala considering it wasn’t hard not to. Knowing Ami she probably ducked and dived, took the iconic mirror selfie and left with her head held high.

“I can take care of him if you need me to. I just need to yell at him in Portuguese and he will run away.” Camila offers as Ani continues to gently drink her milk. The baby’s eyes are closed and her mother watches her daughter with a look on none other than complete adoration.

“I can’t hide from him forever so I might as well acknowledge the fact that I will see him again one day. I’m still friends with Neelam and Urban, Druski and the rest of PG. So when I do I’ll deal with it then and make sure he stays the away from me and my family.”

As Amiria finishes her sentence, her daughter finishes the bottle. “We don’t need him, we’ll be okay taku iti. I’ll always protect you”

***

After many hours of getting ready ( outfit without the necklace and earrings) and putting Ani to sleep so she wouldn’t cry when she realized it was only her grandmother and her in the hotel room for the next several hours, Amiria finally hit the red carpet.

With her signature blinding smile she poses for every photographer in her presence. Then she does a few interviews and after a few minutes of autographs, meeting fans and hugging her co-stars she reaches her last interview.

“Amiria Campbell looking stunning as ever.” The interviewer greets the actress with a smile who does a little twirl. “Really sets the tone for this season? You've got to describe it for us.”

“All I can say is questions will be answered but more questions will be created too.”

“Does this apply to Manny too?”

Amiria purses her lips as she tries to think of an answer that doesn’t include spoilers. “In a way it does but you’ll just have to wait to find out.”

“Can’t wait but this is a big year for you. You’re set to star along side Tom Cruise and Miles Teller in Top Gun: Maverick which is a sequel to its iconic predecessor from the 80s, Yellowjackets was renewed for season 2, you wrote and are staring in a show for the MCU and you had a daughter only a couple months ago. You are doing it all.” The interviewer rambles making Amiria let out a laugh.

“It was a lot I’m not going to lie but I’ve had my family by my side through it all.”

“Will we ever find out who the clearly wonderful father of you beautiful daughter is?” For a split second the smile on her face faltered while a clear sudden look of despair fills her eyes but she quickly brightens them both up and continues.

“Give it like a decade so I can really surprise everyone. That’s the goal.” She ends off her little tease with a nod that she hopes is convincing.

She couldn’t let people ever find out. Not only did she feel embarrassed but she wanted to keep Jack Harlow and her family name away for as long as she possibly could.

“He must be very proud of you. He must be cheering you on from home” Her smile falters again but she picks it up again.

“He is.”

No he isn’t and he never would.

“Have a good night Amiria. We’re rooting for a happy Manaia Thompson this season.” The interviewer says as Amiria walks away.

***

Hours later, the episode had ended and the cast and crew were at the after party. Amiria had just come back from making a tiktok with Noah, Caleb and their sisters when she decided to go outside for a breather.

The night had been magical to say the least but Millie, Joseph along with the rest of her cast mates had noticed something was off.

Camila and Joseph were looking for her when the former found her in the parking lot sitting on the bench.

She slowly approaches her best friend, Camila frowns when she hears the familiar sniffs as she gets closer.

The moment Camila sat down beside her Amiria quickly wiped away the tears.

“Oh honey.” The Brazilian says as she pulls her into a side hug.

“I hate that I have to tell Ani one day that her father didn’t give a shit about her.” That sentence alone makes Camila tense up. “The whole world thinks we’re happy living this suburban parent lifestyle with a white picket fence and all that corny stuff.”

“I know you want that corny stuff honey.”

“I really wanted that. I don’t know what hurts more the fact that I let Jack break my heart so many times or the fact that one day, when my daughter is old enough, her father will break her heart. I don’t want her to end up like me.” Amiria continues to sob making Camila place a gentle kiss on top of her head.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Going from the pride and joy of your whole neighbourhood to not even seeing it for 2 years because you kept going back to the same person who I let walk over me over and over, being treated like crap over and over. Cutting off your closest friends and family because you thought you knew the real him.” Amiria rambles as the many memories flood her brain. Who knew that a single question would cause everything to crumble? “I don’t want Ani to end up like me or Jack. My mom, dad or grandparents are much better candidates in my family tree.”

Camila was shocked to say the least. She takes Amirias face in her hands and wipes the streaks of mascara away with her thumbs. “First of all. Never say that bullshit again. You Amiria Imogen Maiah Campbell are the strongest person I’ve ever known. Ani would be lucky hell she’d be blessed to end up like you. You know why?” Amiria shakes her head as she sniffs gently.

“You fought for love my dear. Not just love but the future you wanted. You’ve grown so much. I remember you rambling to me after we went to that one film festival about how Oncology didn’t feel like your calling anymore how you would like to do something else with your life. I also remember how scared you were to tell your parents the truth but they were proud of you regardless. They still are or else they wouldn’t be flying half way across the world to be with you in a few days. You’re a single mother, you’re booked and busy, a show you wrote, starred and directed is coming out in a few months. The list goes on but babe! Come on, you’ve accomplished so much more than some of our fellow actors have in their 10 years in the industry. I can practically smell your Oscar!”

Amiria laughs as her best friends words materialise into the more brighter memories of the part few years. The ones without Jack. The ones where she would bring her film camera to work and take pictures with her cast mates. The ones where she’d put on her headphones and spend hours on her laptop writing the script she’d only dreamt about as a kid. The ones where she’d be with Urban, Druski or Neelam and she’d just found out she got nominated for her first Emmy and many other awards. The special moment where she first held her daughter despite the traumatic hours before.

All those good memories meant something.

“You are a badass Ames, never forget that. It’s not and it never will be your fault that you lost your fight for love. Jack never has and never will deserve you. He’ll never deserve that large ass heart of yours. If, no when Ani turns out like you, the world will become a thousand times better. I promise you.” Camila adds on making her lips upturn into a sweet smile. “One day you will find that person who will make you feel a hundred times better than that asshole. You’ll have the wedding of your dreams, the honeymoon of your dreams and you two will raise another badass and maybe have a few more. Whatever you chose to do, your future is bright babe. Got it?”

“Got it. Thanks Cam.”

“Always. I love you girl. I’ll always have your back.”

“Love you too.”

“Let’s get you freshened up because I think Noah wants to make more TikTok’s.” The two women stand up, link arms and walk back inside.

Just as they reach the bathroom, Amiria realises she left her phone on the bench and Camila offers to go get it.

She never expects to see him there.

There he stands, holding his exes phone in his hand, staring at the lock screen which is of Amiria and Ani. The mother holds the baby in her arms and the baby girl reaches for the stars with a gumless smile while Amiria shines her signature Peary grin. If Camila wasn’t radiating rage that was hotter than the fiery gates of hell she would've asked herself if she just saw Jackman tear up slightly.

He backs away slowly when he notices she’s there.

“This is a private event Jackman. What the fuck are you doing here.”

“I just want to talk to her.” He pleads.

“Absolutely not. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away.”

“Camila please. I just want to fix things, that’s all I want.”

“You think I give a damn about what you want. It’s always been about you. It’s been over a year and you’re still the same narcissistic asshole.” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Can’t you for one second stop and maybe consider the fact that maybe she isn’t ready to see you or doesn’t even want to.”

“I have to make things right. I want to be there for her and A-“

“You of all people don’t get to say her name besides why did it take fifteen months for you to come to your senses? Is it because you don’t want the world to one day find out that you’re a fucking dead beat?”

“No, I’ve been trying to reach out for months but she’s blocked me on everything and I don’t blame her.”

“You really have some nerve.” Camila scoffs. “Give me the phone and if you ever truly cared about her, you’ll stay away.” She says as she snatches the red covered phone out of his hands and makes her way back to the door.

“I love her! And I’ll never forgive myself for everything that I did to her while we were together. I just need her to even look at me or say something. I wanna hold or just see my daughter not just a picture of her. We haven’t been apart for this long and it’s driving me insane Camila.”

“You had two out of the three years you two were together to fix yourself. At least now you know how she felt.”

“Camila please, I know she’s having her family tradition thing next week.”

“You never gave a damn about her family’s traditions.”

“I know my parents and Clay are going.”

“But you somehow didn’t make the invite list.” She mentions with sarcasm laced in her voice. “It’s a really important day for her and Ani.”

Vivid memories of Amiria rambling about her favorite traditions come to his mind but they’re all a blur because he never paid any attention.

He knew that if he wanted to get on Amiria’s good side again he’d have to play his cards right.

And her best friend wanting to murder him right now was definitely not the way to do it.

“Just tell her I’m sorry.”

“You can say it to her yourself when she actually wants to see you, until then. Stay away.”

With those last words Camila Mendes marches back through the door. As she gets closer to the main hall where everything was happening she can’t help but let her mind wonder.

She knew that one day Amiria would have to let Jack back into her life. She just hoped that no one would pressure her into it.

Once she’s back in the room where everyone is conversing in meaningless banter she spots Amiria, Gaten, Maya, Noah, Caleb and their sisters filming another Tiktok.

She chuckles as she makes her way to the group of seven.

Amiria notices her best friends pressence behind her and quickly walks towards her.

“What took you so long? You missed our song.”

Camila knew lying to Amiria now would get her no where. “I’ll tell you later.”

“Are you okay?” Amiria asks noticing the change in her friends mood since she saw her ten minutes ago.

“I’m fine Ames, let’s go ask the DJ to play our song again.” With that the two women link arms and walk towards him.

Sooo that was part two

Damn it, that was a lot😭😭

I’ll try make the next part shorter unless y’all don’t mind the long chapters?

Please let me know 🫶🏾

Anywhoo hope you enjoyed

Masterlist

taglist

*let me know if you want to be added*

@a-moment-captured

@iheartharlow

@iikximii

@fashphotolife

@sluttywh0r3forw0m4n

@msliz

@jackierose902109

@gassyandsassy1

@awhoere4more

@rio-lover

@unfuckwitabella

@longingtobewithu

@fulla02

#miszswan talks #jack harlow #amiria campbell #people you know series #courtney eaton #amiria imogen maiah campbell #camila mendes #stranger things 4 #jack harlow x woc #jack harlow angst #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow x reader

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polarisbibliotheque · 10 months

Text

Survivor's Blood (Leon x Reader) - Chapter 5

Survivor's Blood

Pairing: Leon x Reader

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 (you are here!)

Summary: After Raccoon City, Leon became the only Government agent with that kind of expertise. With relentless training, he was now a Special Agent - again, on his first day in the job. He just didn’t expect to live Raccoon City all over again… Maybe Leon was fated to always have the worst first-days-at-work ever.

Age Restriction: 18+. It’s horror, so expect a lot of graphic violence and blood dripping from this. I mean, VERY GRAPHICAL VIOLENCE. Nothing we haven’t seen on RE, but still. Yee been warned

TRIGGER WARNING: Bloody hospital. Really. Bloody, horror movie hospital :|

Author’s notes: Took some time, but hey, we're here!! Funfact: I have this extention on my browser that changes some words of what I'm reading to a target language I'm wanting to learn, and now Magical Donuts appear in my browser as Magical Beignets. I absolutely adored it and I might re-read everything just to laugh at the random French words being thrown here.

I hope you like how it's turning out!! A lot more to come!! And thank you so much for reading and being around ^^

Chapter 5

Hospital Arklay Hill, April 29th, 2001 – 22h03

The way to the hospital was a lot quieter than any of you could have anticipated. The rule was to save ammo and move without drawing attention, always trying to get to the hospital as fast as possible. Even though you were in Leon’s schedule, you still considered yourselves late.

You followed with Leon leading the way, as agreed. He dreaded the possibility of you getting caught by surprise if you were ahead of him – even if you said you knew your way around guns, Leon had a certain trauma of losing people in situations like the one you found yourselves in.

“Y/n. Can you talk to Valerie?” As soon as you found shelter behind an ambulance tumbled in the street, he finally talked to you. “We’re almost there.”

“Yeah, I can.” You started fumbling with the radio, its only purpose to communicate with the hospital survivors. You spoke with no answer for a while until you heard a hiss in response, fixing the frequency so you could hear it better. “Valerie? Can you hear me well?”

“Hi, y/n? Yes! Yes, I can!” The woman was clearly smiling, being washed by the happiness of knowing you didn’t abandon them. “How are you? Did you meet Leon?”

“Yeah, he’s here with me.”

“Hey, we’re almost there, Valerie.” Leon sat by your side, close enough so you touched shoulders. You kept the radio near your faces, making you both lean into it a little so you didn’t have to speak too loud.

“We need to know where you are in the hospital.” You added, glancing quickly at Leon. “And if you can go to a place where the extraction will be easier.”

“I don’t know if we can… I don’t even know where an easier place would be in here.” Valerie sighed, speaking in a lower voice tone while the other survivors argued about something else. “Almost all the patients got affected by this… I don’t know… Epidemics? I don’t even know how to call it.” She shook her head, sitting in the corner of the room so she could guarantee a little peace. “We managed to lock ourselves in one of the exam rooms; it’s not that hard to get here… After the reception, you need to turn right and then left in a long corridor. In this corridor, there’ll be a lot of doors: the third one to the right, you’ll get into a restricted area, the corridor to the exam rooms. We are in the…” And Valerie took a few seconds, mentally counting. “Fifth? Sixth door to the left? Sorry, I can’t remember for sure… But when you get here, we’ll hear you.”

“Hmmm, just a sec…” You had a good memory and Leon was trained to keep a good amount of information, especially in moments like those. But he had no idea of the hospital’s architecture and with that, you could help. “Leon, you wouldn’t happen to have a pen in one of those many magic pockets, would you…?”

Leon furrowed his brows, giving you a funny look as if asking what the hell you were thinking at the same time he scolded your comment about him taking so many things to the field. After Raccoon City, he became stupidly proficient in inventory management in the field and he had a good idea what was useful or not. A map and a pen proved to be crucial when he got stuck in the police department and roaming around the underground laboratory, trying to find everything he needed to leave those places.

So yes, even though he didn’t want to admit, he had a pen that he took off one of his many pockets almost against his will. That only made you smile.

“Thank you, Mary Poppins. You wouldn’t happen to have a piece of paper too, right…?”

Leon rolled his eyes as he took the map he folded enough to fit one of the pockets. Of every nickname he could have had in his lifetime, ‘Mary Poppins’ would be the last he would’ve imagined to be graced with.

“Ok, here we go…” You held the pen cap between your teeth while laying the map on your thighs. Leon could only hold the radio and accept his fate. “Can you repeat it, Valerie? Please?”

As the woman spoke, you drew a little map of the hospital on the back of the city’s map, trying to remember the sizes of the rooms so Leon would have a better idea of the place you were going in – as well as help you remember all the details without having to call Valerie all the time.

“It isn’t that far away from the hospital entrance.” You showed the place in the improvised map. You pointed the path with the pen. “If we clear the way from the entrance to the exam room, we won’t have to go in deeper and, with a little luck, we’ll be able to leave with no further problems.”

“Hmmm…” Leon analyzed the drawing. You were right, but… “There are other rooms along the way, right?” You just nodded in response. “There’s no way for us to know how many zombies are inside each room and if they are open or not. We can clean the way there, but it’s always possible for something to appear along the way.”

“That’s why one of us should lead the way and the other should be on the back, as we’re doing right now.”

“Ok. I’ll go ahead when we get there and, when we’re leaving, I’ll be on the back and you’ll lead.” Leon checked how many bullets he had left on his handgun – up until that moment, he didn’t see a use for the shotgun but that was about to change. He could feel it. “I think it’s worse if something we don’t know follow us from the inside of the hospital than another zombie crossing our already cleared path.”

“Fair enough.” You agreed more so you wouldn’t argue than anything else: you had lots of arguments to state you were more than capable of dealing with whatever creature that appeared from the insides of the hospital, but you could delay that argument.

“I need to warn you…” Again, Valerie lowered her voice. She was quiet for a while, considering if she would continue the warning. “I’m not sure what I saw. But I think… I think I saw… Something… Different from the people who were infected. Horrible. It looked like it was out of a horror movie…

“What was it, Valerie?” Up until that moment, Leon had reasons to believe what happened in that city was the result of a virus outbreak, but other creatures? Raccoon City was used as a laboratory, but New Setosa? Was it a field test? Whose? Umbrella’s? A lot of questions crossed his head at the same time; and none had an answer. “Can you describe it to me?”

“No. I can’t.” The woman’s answer was adamant. “I closed my eyes and remained quiet. But it looked like… An animal. That thing couldn’t be human. It wasn’t human.

“How many are there?”

“I don’t know either. I just saw one and when I realized it was far, I ran the fastest I could and didn’t leave this room anymore.” She remained in silence while you both waited patiently. “Out of everything that’s out there, that’s what I’m afraid the most.”

“We’ll find a way. If we find one of these things along the way, we’ll manage.” You had certainty in your voice, making Leon discreetly look at you. It was incredible how you remained brave, even if apparently – even when you had all the reasons to be scared.

As the conversation came to an end, you went back to your walk towards the hospital – now you could see the big, white building with green windows in the distance; the luminous sign with the letters spelling “Hospital Arklay Hill” was clearly stained with blood and some of them had a hard time shining, twinkling among the darkness of that night.

“Do you know what she was talking about, Leon?” Your question was quiet, following him as fast as you could without attracting a horde of zombies.

“I’m not sure…” He glanced quickly over his shoulders. “I saw a lot of things that couldn’t be considered human in Raccoon, that’s why I asked her to describe it to me. It’d be easier if we went in knowing what we’ll find, but the virus affects people in different ways: some become undead, others mutate into things that could easily come out of a horror movie.”

That made you think in silence – it wasn’t just Leon who had his doubts about what was going on in New Setosa. Initially, everyone thought it was a sudden epidemics of a virus attacking the nervous system: some people were quarantined in the hospital, until it started to spread – you had never seen a disease that spread so quickly. You also had never seen a pandemics, but that’s how you imagined an epicenter to be: non-stop contagion, loss of control and deaths. So many deaths.

You were scared. You didn’t want to admit it, but you were. Your feet didn’t really want to follow your will to move forward – but, if you didn’t go with Leon, he would have to go in alone.

And if you were in his shoes, you wouldn’t want to be alone – as well as if you were one of those people in the hospital, you would want someone to save you. You couldn’t turn back now.

“Are you ok?” Leon checked while taking the map from one of his pockets to make sure you were in the right path and what the objective was. Leon remembered quite well, but he wanted to have a better idea – and maybe, seeing the hospital in the distance, he could understand the proportions of the rooms better. “You’re too quiet all of a sudden.”

“We barely know each other and there you are, already saying I talk too much.” You raised one eyebrow as he just took a deep breath to tell you how wrong you were. “Relax. I know. I just needed to release some tension. We need to go to the second hall and turn in the first corridor.”

“The second hall is through that door, right?” He pointed to a passage closed by a milky glass door, blocking your view of the next room. You nodded in agreement. “Let’s go then. Time to hope we won’t find the thing that worries Valerie.”

With a gesture from his hands, you prepared your gun and, now walking by his side, you quickly followed to the door you hoped would still work. As soon as you approached, the doors glided open enough for just one of you to squeeze through, jamming midway open with a strength that made it tremble. You exchanged looks and Leon crossed to the other side before you, immediately checking the right side of the room as you followed him and checked the left side.

It smelled like death. The hall was big enough to harbor a considerable amount of undead, but you found only three. One of them didn’t seem to understand how to move around the reception desk and let itself free from wherever it was stuck, another was stationary, staring at you both. And the third was banging mercilessly at the vending machine, as if it had swallowed its coin and it didn’t spew out whatever it had bought. The rest, was the classic: dead people torn apart on the floor and chairs, the walls stained in blood.

“We’re running through them?” Your question was valid: you had noticed Leon had a tendency to save each and whatever resource you found or had along the way, so you thought it was better to check before doing anything.

“Hmmm…” Leon thought for a while. Going through was a good option, but it would be a problem if you found anything worse in the corridor. If that was the case, you would be stuck, with problems in the front and in the back. “We don’t know what’s in the corridor, we might get sandwiched between this problem and something worse.”

“I didn’t think of that.” Even if your answer was serious, you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing internally at his choice of words. After all, it wasn’t everyday you heard ‘sandwiched’ in such a serious conversation. “Let’s go then.”

With those words, you pointed your gun to the stationary zombie as Leon followed to the reception. With two certain shots, you both wiped out those zombies, drawing the attention of the third one, who slowly turned around and finally reached out to you, dragging itself as you met Leon in the middle of the room once more. With coordinated shots, the vending machine zombie was exterminated.

“If I knew you’d shoot as well, I’d have saved the bullet.” Leon gave you a small smile, making you mirror his expression. “You shoot better than a lot of people I met.”

“Oh, you have no idea.” You answered in a quick laugh, walking by his side towards the long corridor you now needed to cross.

Leon would have asked what you meant with those words, but as soon as you reached the big white doors that blocked the corridor, you fell silent. You were lucky the survivors at least tried to leave and ended up close to the entrance: the place was huge and if they were in the most distant wings, you would have serious problems.

With your backs to the door, each of you on each side, you waited until he nodded in a sign for you to enter. You both pushed the heavy door quickly, pointing the guns as soon as you entered the corridor, ready to shoot the first thing that appeared in front of your eyes.

But there was nothing.

The corridor stretched into a pitch black darkness with broken light bulbs that twinkled in whatever rhythm, humming with the energy that crossed the useless filaments. A couple of bodies were thrown on the floor – at least as far as your eyes could see – chewed by something… Different. The walls had blood stains in shapes of hands, on the floor, feet that tried to flee in despair. Beds, syringes, gloves, hospital paraphernalia… It was all tossed along the way, as if the place was hit by a hurricane – and now, it laid in a heavy silence in the foul air.

In Leon’s experience, that kind of situation was worse than the chaos: when there were screams of despair, you usually knew what was attacking and where the survivors were. When there was only silence, all you could do was to pay attention to whatever noises and hope you wouldn’t be taken by surprise.

“Stay alert.” Leon murmured as low as he could, leading the way. Your steps were calmer and a lot more careful now that you didn’t know what you could find. With his eyes now getting used to the lack of light, Leon found the door Valerie told you about – a little farther than he had expected.

Your steps were quiet behind Leon: even if you knew how to shoot and you wanted to be there, you couldn’t deny he was the best person to lead the way – after all, he was trained to that kind of situation.

You carefully dodged the pools of blood on the floor. You didn’t want to run the risk of slipping and falling over all that mess – you were already sufficiently dirty and all you wanted was a good shower to feel as good as new. As you crossed a good part of the corridor, you approached the first passage to the right that connected that corridor to another hospital wing – through another equally dark corridor.

You would’ve had normally walked by it if you hadn’t heard a strange noise coming from that corridor.

It was like an animal’s hiss. You allowed Leon to keep walking as you turned around to make sure there was nothing else needing rescue.

And it was the first time you saw that.

A creature that looked like it had no skin, with long claws, roaming the corridor with its four paws on the floor; sharp teeth framing a long, menacing tongue. You froze in place, terror filling your eyes. It was the most horrible thing you had ever seen in your life and you didn’t know what to do. Had that thing seen you? Should you shoot?

Before you could make any kind of noise, though, one of Leon’s hands quickly covered your mouth, pulling you towards him. You didn’t resist: with eyes wide open, you turned to him and found Leon with one of his fingers on his own lips so you would remain silent. You nodded frantically and, as he let you go, Leon held one of your hands and started walking as silently as he could so you could reach the door Valerie told you about.

It wasn’t that far away, but it seemed enough for a marathon. You heard that thing sniffing around, paws heavily hitting the floor, chasing you: slowly, calculated, searching for something it knew it was escaping. The claws scratched the hospital floor, the animal hiss louder and louder. You held Leon’s hand with a little more strength.

If you had to choose how to die, it would be by zombie. Never by something like that thing that chased you.

You risked a look above your shoulders, finding that thing finally reaching the spot in the corridor where you were before. There was so little left for you to reach the door. Leon pulled you closer, walking a few last steps to get to the next passage.

You almost said something when you saw that thing jerking its ugly head towards you. Stopping in front of the door, Leon finally looked at it: they were about to be noticed. You were so close. It knew.

Leon looked at you and tried, as best as possible, to tell you through hand signs to run as soon as he opened the door. You nodded in affirmation and, as soon as Leon pushed one of the metal bars to open it, the thing raised its head like a dog, screeching like chalk on a board, viciously running towards you.

“Go!” Leon did his best so you entered the corridor before him, quickly following. To your terror, the thing that chased you was too fast.

Leon wouldn’t be able to get in: having crossed the door, you saw the claws of that thing already prepared to tear his back open – and that would be a huge problem.

As he tried to escape, you didn’t think twice: aiming your gun, you almost emptied it in that thing’s head. You didn’t know how many bullets you needed, nor how many of them were there, and you didn’t even care if you needed to go on in complete silence – you wouldn’t allow that thing to kill Leon in such a stupid manner.

The creature fell heavily on the floor while Leon stumbled into the corridor you found yourself in. That thing’s tongue stretched until almost hitting your feet, as if even in death it wanted to tear you apart.

“What the fuck is this?!” That was the only thing you managed to ask, still staring at that thing with widened eyes, your hands trembling on your gun. You didn’t even have to state the adrenaline shock had been strong.

“Dunno. The guys at the station called it Licker.” Leon took a few deep breaths, a little discombobulated by how you had emptied your gun on the Licker instead of running in despair or screaming for help – saving his life in the process. “The good news, they are as blind as a bat. The bad news, those things smell and hear very well, so we need to be very careful and not make any noises when we see one of them.”

“Hmmm… I remember that name, Claire mentioned it a few times…” You also took a deep breath, giving that thing a last look. “I didn’t think it would be that ugly. And scary.”

“Oh, c’mon. They could win a beauty pageant.” Albeit the seriousness, you could hear a hint of a laugh in the back of his voice as you got back on track.

At least you were lucky enough for that place to be empty.

“I’ve never seen such a funny person in an apocalypse.” You aimed your gun above Leon’s shoulders in case something appeared in front of him. You didn’t hear any menacing noises, but that was only worse, considering the situation.

“Well, not my first apocalypse.” He shrugged, thinking about his own words. Who would’ve known one day he would find himself saying something like that. He imagined where he would be in four or five years, how he would handle that kind of situation. He hoped he would be an agent who feared nothing and could deal with things objectively, and even with a certain level of humor. “Which door? Fourth or fifth?”

“Actually, fifth or sixth. She didn’t really know.” You corrected him, pointing to the nearest door. “Let’s go?”

“Yeah. You go ahead.” He pointed the door with his head, giving you cover.

“Valerie?” You lightly knocked on the door to avoid too many noises, even if you had just done a whole rock show with all those shots in the Licker’s head a while ago. You didn’t notice, but a hiss echoed from the end of the corridor, making Leon aim his gun and his flashlight into the darkness, finding anything in return. “It’s us! Y/n and Leon!”

You heard a commotion inside the room and it confirmed you were at the right door. While the click of it opening and the handle moved to greet you, the hiss repeated itself, louder – but, as soon as the door opened, the sound of claws hitting the floor added to the soundtrack.

You, Leon and Valerie looked in the direction of the origin of the sounds – with the claws taking a vicious speed – making you hold Leon by his bulletproof vest and run inside the room as fast as you could, not allowing him nor Valerie to think of something else. The nurse, though, was quick enough to lock the door as soon as you stumbled inside, making the creature lose your track – without ever leaving the corridor.

“You’re here! Alive!” Valerie immediately locked her arms around your neck, holding you as if there was no tomorrow. You widened your eyes, glancing at Leon. He just giggled: it wasn’t everyday he saw someone so uncomfortable with hugs as you seemed to be at that moment. “Thank you so much…!”

“Thank you for what, Valerie?” A grumpy man interrupted the moment, stuffing his clammy hands in the dirty lab coat pocket. “They can very well end up locked up in here with us! They haven’t done anything to save us yet!”

“But we will, sir.” Leon tried to be diplomatic, noticing not so friendly looks shot at the man from you and Valerie. Someone had to be the voice of reason in there, or the very survivors would end up killing each other. “The goal is to leave here right now so we’ll get to the school at 22h20.”

“And then we’re gonna do what? Open the books and start studyin’?” The man wiped some of the sweat that dripped from his greasy hair, his little eyes filled with anger amidst that stuffy room. “Or you’re gonna find a magic way to get us out of this damned city?”

If Leon was younger, he would’ve answered with calm and patience.

But he wasn’t that rookie cop from Raccoon City anymore. He didn’t need to have that much patience. Not after all he had been through.

“As Special Agent from the Government working under direct orders from the President, I have a special task team with the best soldiers from the army, ready for an extraction operation of the survivors in New Setosa.” Leon was probably being too harsh, but, honestly, someone would have to put that guy in his place, be it by being gentle or by brute force. And, right now, Leon wasn’t that inclined to being gentle. “I think it’s enough magic to deal with this situation.”

And that talk was over.

“Under direct orders from the President…?” You had your arms crossed, slowly approaching Leon while he organized what was left of the ammo and loaded the shotgun. He raised his eyes to you, finding you with a small smile coloring your lips. That made Leon mirror your reaction, a little embarrassed by the way he spoke before.

But that guy really pissed him off.

After his answer, the survivors gathered to listen to the instructions on how they would cross the city to the school – having that little intermission to prepare ammo, items they wanted to take with them, care for any wounds and get ready for the journey to safety. And, while Leon got ready in his own lone corner of the room, you approached to talk to him.

“Yeah… That’s what happens when you survive a disaster like Raccoon.” He sighed slightly. “I ended up as a Special Agent just because of that, I’m the only one with this expertise.”

“I doubt all Special Agents have direct orders from the President of the United States.” You leaned on the bed Leon used to keep the guns and ammo as he counted and organized them. “C’mon, Leon. You didn’t get here ‘just’ because your star twinkled in Raccoon. To have this kind of job, you need to not only be a good agent, but an intelligent one as well.”

“Oh, well…” Leon shrugged, feeling his cheeks slightly burning and trying to do his best for you not to notice it. At least he was lucky: the lights from the room were broken. “You’re gonna have to ask that to the President.”

You narrowed your eyes, smiling right after. You didn’t know if it was just something he was saying to escape that conversation and dodge a compliment or if he was trying to tease you.

And, when you noticed the ghost of a smile in the corner of his lips, you knew it was a bit of both.

“So cocky.” You muttered back, making him raise his eyebrows and stare you in shock – but clearly holding back a laugh. “After that, I’ll only leave you with the shotgun ‘cause you’re the one dealing with that monstrosity outside, Mr. super-government-agent friends with the President.”

“Ok, I’m not complainin’.” And he loaded said gun, already leaving it ready with the strap across his shoulders. “Here. More ammo for your gun. After you shot that Licker like a cowboy, you’re gonna need it.”

“And I would’ve shot it more if I could.” You answered while reloading your handgun. Two magazines were probably more than Leon could give you at the moment – but you had already learned he had a big heart. “I’ll lead the way? As we agreed before?”

“I’m the one with the shotgun, ain’t I?” He raised one eyebrow, making you flash a little smile at the answer. “At that pace, you’ll end up workin’ for the President as well.”

“Yeah, right…” You shook your head, deflecting the compliment. Even so, you winked back at him. “If you’re my partner, I’ll think about it.”

“I can make that happen, alright?” Leon pointed at you, making you giggle. “You ready? It’s time to go.”

“Yeah. I think you should ask them that.”

Indeed, the survivors didn’t look too excited – but as Leon knew quite well, you didn’t need excitement to save your own life: you just had to run and never look back.

To be continued...

19 notes · View notes

p-artsypants · 5 months

Text

Paint it Black (6) Wondering

Robin disappeared three months ago. Now, Jump City's crime rate is mysteriously being taken care of by a normal, albeit strange, teenage boy who goes by the name Black. As the Titans befriend this lunatic, they begin to see a correlation between him and their missing leader. Will they be able to find Robin, or will Black turn them all insane as himself? [Actually, does not contain an OC]

Ao3 | FF.net

Starfire flew solemnly over the city. In her own selfish way, she wasn’t really patrolling, just going through the motions. She’d finish up with this, and then go home and—

What? Watch those videos again? Go through that torture, again?

Maybe she’d check in on Black, make sure he was asleep and not causing any trouble.

It was a horrible feeling living in her head.

She had come to see Black as a friend. A friend with a great need for care. But the way he had spoken to her on top of the Wayne building the other night…maybe he was a murderer?

The very thought made her lose altitude quickly.

She thought of Robin’s smile and that one time he said she was really cool and regained her place in the sky.

“Star…fire?” A gravelly voice called out for her.

“Hello?”

“Ov…over here, love.”

Starfire turned about, before finding the source. An old man was duct taped to a scaffolding on a building under construction.

“Mr. Mad Mod? Is that you?”

“Correct, love!” Then he coughed. He had no youth to preserve him, and looked sick. Very sick. “I know we haven’t seen…eye to eye on many things…”

“You have hypnotized my friends and I on numerous occasions.”

“Yes…well, do you think you could help me?”

“In what way?”

He coughed again, more severely. “I was doing something bad, yes. I had some revenge planned, and then…that boy…” He coughed. “A boy in all black ambushed me. Didn’t even have the chance to protect meself.”

“Black, you say?”

“That’s the stuff! He tied me up ‘ere two days ago. I thought someone would have been ‘ere by now, but you’re the first to find me.” He gave her a pained smile. “Been without me medicine for a few hours. If you want to turn me into the bobbies if you can, but I might need to get to hospital.”

“Oh!” Starfire immediately got to work freeing the man, and he collapsed into a coughing fit soon after. “Please hang on, Mr. Mod, I shall get you to the hospital as quickly as I can.”

“Thank you, ducky.”

—

Robin. Black tossed and turned as that name reverberated in his head over and over. Robin. Who was he, anyway? He saw his picture, he knew his roles, and saw the respect his friends had for him. But still, who was this person? And why did his name make Black so angry?

Robin. A stranger. Robin. A phobia. Robin. An enemy.

Black saw no point in sleeping anymore that night. Sure, the bed was comfortable, and sure, the tower was warm and dry. To date, it was the most comfortable night he ever had (to his knowledge). But the more he slept, the more he dreamt. And the more he dreamt, the more memories came back.

As Black rose, he made the bed lent to him, he wondered why only bad memories came to him. People dying, crying, bleeding. Pain, sorrow...things you tend to try to forget first we're coming back first.

He also wondered how he knew how to make the bed. He hadn’t ever owned one, that he remembered. Getting undressed was a struggle, and he had done that at least twice before.

It was the middle of the night, still dark in the tower. He snuck out of his room. His eyes were keen to the dark, but the light glow from the numbers on the appliances in the kitchen helped a bit.

Black's reasoning was, the Titans had taken him in out of the kindness of their hearts, the least he could do is keep from being a burden.

A rather sane thought, don't you think?

First though, since he was up and all alone, he decided to take care of himself. If he was staying here, he had to know what he was working with. His coat was still hanging up in the ops room, slightly damp. That was fine, as long as the contents were dry. He dug through the pockets, finding everything still there, and wrapped in the plastic he used to protect it. His knife, his gun, and his stash.

He HAD to have his stash.

He squirreled these things back into his new room, hiding them under the mattress. He allowed himself a tiny taste, just to take the edge off.

Next, he allowed himself a tour of the tower. Some rooms he explored more than others; such as the medical room. He found the bathrooms, the garage, and the evidence room. He took a waltz through the basement.

For each of the bedrooms, he took time to acknowledge whose was where. With Raven's, he poked his head in, saw the shadows and left. In Beast Boy's, he stepped in, got a whiff, and backtracked quickly. Cyborg's room was a bit more fun. Black tiptoed in, noticing the gauge on his computer. The tin man was charged up to 80% according to his screen.

Black tinkered with some of the tools sitting on the workbench, but when one dropped and made a loud clang, he bolted from the room.

Next was Starfire's. The boy peeped his head in the room, and when he saw no machines or demonic statues, and smelled no tofu armpit barf, he slid in. He liked Starfire for that; a comforting sort of normalcy in the tower. Ironically, the most normal room belonged to the alien. He acknowledged her lacey white curtains, and the random stuffed animals around the room. But he was most interested in her, moreover, how she slept. Her feet on her pillow and her hair draping over the end of the bed.

"I wonder if that's comfortable," He mused.

She stirred.

Black hushed himself. He stared at her a bit longer and then moved on.

Finally, his bedroom exploration ended with Robin's room. He stood in front of the door for a long time, trying to find the will to open the door. But he had nothing. He couldn’t do it. Nothing was stopping him. He didn’t even respect this stranger.

In the end, he just went back to his room, and hummed some forgotten tunes until dawn broke.

Morning rolled around with Raven first to wake up. She walked in the ops room, only to be utterly surprised. She expected the house guest to be still asleep, not cooking breakfast.

"Good morning, Blackbird!"

"Raven," she corrected.

"But ravens don't sing in the dead of night."

"And neither do I," She quipped.

"Fair. Coffee?"

"I'll stick to tea."

Next, in came Cyborg. "Dude, what's that smell?"

"Bacon, eggs, ham, fat, grease...what do you want?"

"You made all of this?"

"Well, it didn't poop out of thin air!"

"Just as a heads up, Beast Boy doesn't eat meat, remember?"

"That's why I made the tofu French toast from the fridge."

“I thought you didn’t eat processed meat either,” said Raven. “What is ham and bacon, then?"

“Well, if I prepared it, and it’s in its package…I wasn’t really going to eat it anyways. I found some yogurt.”

Beast Boy grunted and shuffled into the room. "'Mornin'"

"Yo BB! Black made breakfast, and it is awesome!"

"Off the hizzy," Black corrected.

Last to enter was Starfire, and she looked bedraggled.

“Good morning, Princess Fiona! Would you like some breakfast?”

Starfire leveled a glare at him. “You did something very horrible to Mr. Mad Mod.”

The rest of the team stopped what they were doing and stared at the two.

Black chuckled nervously, “I’m sure I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“The very old villain who is sometimes not very old and speaks with a strange accent.”

“British,” Cyborg added.

“Yes! Him! I patrolled last night and found him tied up within a construction site. He said he had been there for several days without access to his medication. I spent several hours in the hospital with him last night just to make sure he was healthy!”

“Wow Star,” said Beast Boy, impressed. “That was nice of you.”

“I didn’t know he’d be there for so long. I thought they would find him.”

“‘They’?” Raven pressed.

“The workers.”

“But it is the week’s end! Would the builders not be off until Monday?”

“Oh. Yeah…I didn’t think about that.”

Cyborg scowled. “That’s your problem, man! You don’t think! Not when you fought against Mumbo, not when you took off your pants! What’s wrong with you?”

Something is very wrong with you. We might have to operate.

“There’s…there’s nothing wrong with me,” Black insisted. “I’m fine. I’m the normal one!”

“You know that’s not true,” said Raven, coming closer. “Starfire told us about your mood swings. You’ve been following us for a while. You seem all nice and friendly when you know we’re looking, but you’re up to something. That’s not normal.”

He looked at Starfire, a grimace pulling on his lips. “You told them?”

“We do not have secrets,” Starfire argued. “Robin hid secrets from us, and that is how he disappeared. I chose to not withhold information.”

Black frowned hard, his nostrils flaring.

“Dude, we don’t have to be against each other. You can get in on the trust circle. Just don’t hide stuff from us. Let us help you.”

Now you’re all alone, and no one to save you.

“I…” he backed away from them all. “I don’t know…there’s so much I don’t know.”

“Then just tell us what you do know,” Raven insisted.

Before they could pry any information out of him, the alarm sounded.

“Looks like our little pow-wow is going to take a back seat,” Cyborg checked the report on his computer. “Ugh, Johnny Rancid.”

“I can help!” Said Black, running to grab his coat.

“Oh, no you don’t.” Raven encased him in her magic and deposited on the couch. “You’re grounded.”

“Grounded?! Why!?”

“One, we were just talking about trust. Two, you’re injured. And three, you don’t know how to fight in our dynamic. So sit.”

“We shall return shortly, Black.”

“Fine, whatever,” he pouted, arms crossed.

“Titans Go!” Cyborg shouted as they ran out of the room.

When they left, Black wandered over to the computer, where the report of this ‘Johnny Rancid’ came in. The location popped up and blinked at him.

There was a funny voice yelling in his head. Sitting around and doing nothing was the wrong thing to do.

So he embraced it.

Raven and Starfire raced through the air while Cyborg and Beast Boy chased in the car. Rancid had a motorcycle, and what looked like a long electric whip. On his back he had a large duffle, stuffed with money he’d just stolen from the bank.

“Go ahead and try to stop me, losers! You were nothing with the little Birdy Boy, and now you’re even less!”

Starfire threw bolts at him, and at the road, which he expertly dodged. Then, without looking at the road, snapped the whip at her, zapping her and making her collide with Raven.

“Ah ha ha! Too easy!”

“Not that easy!” Cyborg took aim with his canon from the driver’s seat.

Rancid simply took a sharp turn down an alley, where the car couldn’t follow.

Beast Boy escaped the passenger seat and turned into a cheetah, taking chase. He caught up to Rancid, running at full speed.

Rancid cared little, and snapped the whip out again, several times, eventually striking Beast Boy.

“Nothing! Nothing I say!” Rancid laughed.

The rev of a motorcycle caught Rancid’s ears, and he perked up in interest. “Bird Boy?”

The R-Cycle came recklessly speeding around the corner, on a collision course with Rancid. But instead of a yellow and black cape billowing behind it, there was a tattered trench coat.

“A new challenger? Rock on!” Johnny changed direction quickly, and the race began again.

Starfire and Raven followed the revving engines to the source, only to look in dread.

“He has taken Robin’s bike!” Starfire lamented.

“And he’s not wearing a helmet!” Raven shouted. “Black! Go back home!”

But Black couldn’t hear her over the roar of the engines, or the adrenaline pounding in his ears.

Rancid drove straight into a construction site, where the path became treacherous and unpredictable. An expert biker would struggle.

But Black seemed to be keeping up just fine.

“You’re pretty good for a kid! Who’re you supposed to be? Bird Boy’s replacement?”

“Nah, I’m your mom’s new boyfriend!”

“What!”

Black turned his bike to bump into Rancid, colliding their bikes together to try to shake him.

“Watch it, punk! I just had this thing detailed!”

“Could have fooled me! Looks like a rust bucket!”

Rancid snarled as he returned the collison, and tried to shake Black off his bike.

“Hey, what has webbed feet and quacks?” Black asked, with a meaty smile.

“Uh, a duck?”

“Good job!” And Black lifted off the bike to donkey kick Rancid in the face.

Johnny lost control of his bike for a moment, swerving through the construction.

Black brought his bike close and leapt onto Johnny’s, letting the R-Cycle crash behind him.

“Get off!”

“YEEEEE HAWWW!” Black reached over Johnny’s hands to engage the throttle, to speed up the bike even faster. Then he took out his knife and stabbed Rancid in the thigh, making it difficult for Johnny to brake.

Johnny cried out in pain, and Black bailed from the bike, rolling several painful feet.

The crash that followed was startling. Johnny’s bike exploded as he collided with a wall.

“Yes!” Black cheered, covered in road rash.

Cyborg finally caught up to them. “Oh my god, oh my god!” He rushed to connect his cannon to a fire hydrant and put out the explosion.

Raven arrived too, and yelled at Black, “stay put!”

She and Cyborg worked to recover Johnny from the wreck while Starfire and Beast Boy caught up.

“What did you do?” Beast Boy asked.

“I won!”

“It is not winning if the criminal is killed,” Starfire said woefully.

“...killed?”

Raven brought out Johnny’s bloodied, battered, and unconscious body. “He’s alive, but he needs to get to the hospital, ASAP.” Then she turned glowing eyes on Black. “What are you doing here? You were supposed to stay at the tower! That was an order!”

“I said I wanted to help.”

“You totaled Robin’s bike,” Cyborg said with venom. “We built it together. You had no right to take it.”

“But—”

“But nothing!” Cyborg shouted, getting right in his face. “This is what we were talking about! You don’t think! You don’t listen to us, you don’t consider risks! You’re lucky Rancid isn’t dead!”

“You are lucky that you are not as well,” Starfire said, softly.

Black blinked several times, finding it hard to swallow. Then, he started to cry. A few tears rolled down his face while his mouth quivered.

The very action took the wind out of everyone’s sails.

“Starfire, you take Black home and get him patched up. Cyborg, Beast Boy, you take care of Rancid, I’ll collect what’s left of Robin’s bike,” Raven stated, so coldly, it felt like ice formed at their feet.

“Please Friend Black, do not resist. We will return to the tower.”

Black nodded at her, still sobbing.

She wrapped an arm around his waist, and they took off.

—

In the med bay, Black sat in his underwear once again, while Starfire attempted to clean his road rash. He winced with each pass of the rag.

“I am sorry if this pains you, but there is debris I must remove.”

“I know, go ahead.”

Starfire worked diligently, occasionally flicking out little pieces of asphalt from his wounds. “Why did you not obey Raven? Why did you fight?”

Black was quiet for a while. “You asked me something similar in my hat. There was this…voice, screaming at me. I couldn’t sit around. I couldn’t ignore it.”

“For everyone’s sake, I hope next time, you do.”

His mouth scrunched up, and he blinked back tears. “I disappointed you.”

“A little bit, yes. I had hoped that…since you asked us for the help, we would be on the same side. But it seems as if you are not. You are on your own side.”

“I…I’m sorry.”

Starfire looked up at him. His face wasn’t so deranged, his eyes held sadness instead of malice, and he seemed genuinely remorseful. “If you are, you should apologize to the others, and stop with these stunts of peril.”

He sighed. “For you, I will.”

—

Raven couldn’t sleep. It had been an exhausting day, but her brain would just not turn off. Several nights since Robin’s disappearance, she would awaken with a start. She had a connection to Robin the others didn’t. She had been in his mind. She saw his memories. And she felt his presence.

Cyborg seemed to be certain that he was dead, but determined to find a body to give a proper burial. Beast Boy seemed to fall more and more convinced that Black was the other boy in those videos, and that he had killed Robin before he lost his memories. Starfire? Well, she was always hoping for the best, but Raven wasn’t sure she actually believed.

Like a pilot light in the basement of a house, the faintest whisper of a presence, even now, she felt it. Robin’s life. If he had died, she would have known. But it was there. Robin was alive, but only barely. Asleep? Magically sealed away? Hell, even banished to another dimension? She wasn’t sure.

Which was why she was so troubled by the videos he had sent. As immoral as those conditions had been, they had been the work of men. Very evil men, but mere mortal men. Unless they were aligned with another being that hadn’t given a clue in the video, Robin’s presence should be stronger than it was.

So not dead, but not alive. Somewhere in between. It made little sense.

Giving up on rest, Raven got up and went to the ops room.

The door opened quietly, so quietly, the other person in the room didn’t notice.

“Beast Boy?” She asked.

He morphed into a cat and leapt off the couch like a lightning bolt. Then he calmed and turned back. “Raven! You scared me!”

“I have the tendency to do that. What are you doing up?”

“Oh! I uh…I couldn’t sleep, so…I thought I’d watch some TV!”

Raven peered up to the screen. He was watching the videos.

“You won’t sleep better after watching those.”

He shrank. “Yeah, I know…I just…”

She came closer, watching again. Beast Boy had the volume low so as to not bother the rest of the tower. It was the third video, the longest.

Beast Boy was quiet for a moment, then explained, more seriously than she’d ever heard, “I think Robin left this puzzle for me.”

Raven met his eyes. “You do? Why?” It wasn’t dismissive, but genuine curiosity.

“I know those songs. I just…don’t know what he’s trying to say.”

“All of them? You recognize them all?”

He shrugged. “Mostly. I don’t really listen to music for the words, more the…well, music. But they’re familiar.”

“Explain.”

He gave her his ipod. On the screen was a playlist called ‘Robin.’ “These are all the songs he gave me. He found out what music I liked and gave me a bunch of CDs to rip.”

Raven scrolled through the list. “Beast Boy, all these songs are by the same band.”

“Yeah, Radiohead. It’s his favorite.”

“One second!” She left to go to her room. When she returned, she had the list of lyrics she had copied down. “I don’t have all of them, but here’s what I got.”

“Okay,” he scanned the list. “Uh, I think I need to listen to him sing them again before I can point out what is what.”

“Alright. So we’re going to do this again. Would you like some tea?”

“Uh…yeah. I think that’ll help.”

So they both got to work. Beast Boy started from the beginning, listening closely.

“The first video doesn’t have any songs,” he noted.

“Right, but he gives us two pieces of information. There were twenty young men at the start of this, and Robin feared someone was listening to his recording, so he created a code.”

“Ooohh…yeah. That makes sense.”

“So the second video is the first one where he sings.” Raven pressed play, listening very carefully.

“This is my way of saying goodbye. 'Cause I can't do it face to face. So I'm talking to you after it’s too late.”

“It’s just one song,” said Beast Boy. “Oh! It’s ‘Videotape’! Duh!”

“So he’s ––what? Stating the obvious?”

“I think this one is more about the words. I think he’s telling us…this is the last we’ll hear from him.”

Raven frowned, but didn’t want to dwell on it. “What about the next one?”

“That’s the one I was working on,” he held up his own notes in his messy handwriting. “The first song is ‘Last Flowers’ and then ‘We Suck Young Blood.’”

“Hmm. Keep going.”

They restarted the video, and Beast Boy pointed out the parts where one song started, and another began.

“She looks like the real thing. She tastes like the real thing. My fake plastic love.”

“‘Fake Plastic Trees’,” Beast Boy snapped his fingers as he wrote it down.

“I've been climbing up this ladder. I've been wasting my time.”

“And that one is ‘Up on the Ladder’.”

Raven frowned, starting to fear the worst. Robin was never very good at sharing emotions. Maybe, just maybe, he was just…using music to convey emotions he couldn’t explain?

“Just 'cause you feel it doesn't mean it's there.”

“‘There There’.”

No. Why record this many unless there was a point? Why subject them to the horrors in the background if he was just trying to say goodbye?

“You've got a light, you can feel it on your back, a light, you can feel it on your back. Jigsaw falling into place.”

“And then, obviously, ‘Jigsaw Falling into Place’.” He wrote the title down and showed her the list.

“Jigsaw…like, a puzzle piece?”

“I’d assume that’s what they were going for.”

“Wait a second… ‘Last Flowers, We Suck Young Blood, Fake Plastic Tree, Up on the Ladder, There There, Jigsaw Falling Into Place’…Beast Boy! These are directions!!”

“To where?”

Raven stared at it longer, begging the answer to hit her.

“Oh! Raven! I forgot! ‘Last Flowers’ is the short name! The full name is ‘Last Flowers for the Hospital!”

“Hospital!” She nearly shouted. “Blood, tree…I bet there’s something for us at the bio labs at the hospital! Let’s go!”

“What, now?”

“What is with all the noise?” A sweet, sleepy voice asked from the door. Starfire had emerged, one of Robin’s capes on her shoulders.

“There’s been a break in the case,” said Raven.

“What case?”

“Robin’s case.”

Starfire was wide awake. “Tell me everything!”

“We will on the way, let’s wake up Cyborg!”

#fanfiction #teen titans #TT #tt animated #starfire #robin #robstar #dick grayson #koriand'r #paint it black

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isbergillustration · 1 year

Text

There was something wrong with River. She herself was not entirely certain what it was, but she felt it. Not in the way her therapist suggested, not in a self-deprecating way, but on some more fundamental level.

One day, four years ago, River woke up. Which was fine, everyone wakes up, but she woke up in a bed that was not hers in an apartment she had no memory of. Even the city of Alm she didn’t remember. Nor, even more alarmingly, did she recognise her face in the mirror. As anyone who found themselves in this situation did, she did some serious research before she tried reaching out to anyone about this. She remembered, after all, the world and how it worked, just not how she herself fit into it.

Retrograde amnesia, that is, the loss of long term past memories, is a lot less common than the film industry would lead you to believe. One is much more likely to mess up ones ability to form new memories than one is to somehow delete the old ones. Childhood memories in particular are very well encoded in our brains. This is why old people losing their memory often seem to be stuck in the distant past, failing to remember who younger relatives are.

River had learnt quite a lot about amnesia in the last four years. She had been to several doctors and had her brain scanned a few times, but they deemed her too well adjusted and functioning to prioritise what was wrong with her. Be grateful, one neurologist had told her, you might have repressed some terrible traumas that you no longer have to be aware of. This had seemed to River to be quite a callously practical approach, but maybe they had been right. Eventually she learned to get on with what was evidently her life.

She had woken up to some measure of security; a job as a barista, an apartment she rented across town, a small chunk of saved up money in the bank. She had to relearn how to do parts of her job, and call all manner of places to have all sorts of passwords reset, but when she lied about having experienced some head trauma most accepted this and were sympathetic. At least, she didn’t think she had suffered any head trauma. There were no wounds.

Eventually she learned to live with it. Sometimes it felt weird, like there was empty space in her brain that ought to be filled with memories, like there was a vacuum somewhere in her hippocampus, but she got on with things. Of course she spent time trying to figure things out, but she got no medical help, and very little information seemed to exist about her. Maybe she had only just moved here when whatever happened happened? There was no social media activity, no personal journals, no letters from friends or family. No photos. Nothing personal at all.

Over the years her attempts had gotten lazier and fewer. There did not seem to be any information out there about her, and her co-workers all said she had been fairly new. After a while dedicating her life to finding out who she was instead of simply becoming whoever she was now seemed less important. Because what if she found out she didn’t like who she was? If no one knew her, then what did it matter? So she had more or less stopped. Accepted that functionally her life begun a few years ago, and no one seemed to have missed her enough to find her.

There was also, River had learned in the last few weeks, something wrong with her neighbour. This was more than anything quite reassuring. He was a very nervous sort of man, and shorter than her, with dark hair styled in the fluffy undercut almost all trans men she knew seemed to favour. In most situations they had talked he would often look over his shoulder as if worried he was being watched. Perhaps he was one of those people convinced a team of government employees were surveilling him at all times. She knew a few people like that. But she hadn’t asked. The first time he came to The Green Place, her job, he spent a solid twenty minutes staring blankly at the window. Not through it, at it. But he didn’t seem to be on drugs or anything like that. Actually maybe he had gone off his drugs. That sometimes had that effect.

John seemed quite nice, apart from whatever was clearly haunting him. River didn’t really know all that many people apart from her co-workers and her girlfriend, so it was nice to get to know a neighbour. The thing was, when you told people that you had no memories older than four years, they tended to assume something was wrong with you, or else only wanted to question you on the specifics of it, and she found that quite tiring.

River sat on the bench outside The Green Place, enjoying the early afternoon sun as she took her break. She had made herself a cup of coffee, and wanted to feel the warmth of the sun on her skin for a little while. By the time her shift was over it would have set. For now, it was nice.

Cars drove past, sleek and electric ones in this part of town, and less noisy and smelly than they might otherwise have been. A few trees were planted along the pavement, bright with yellow orange leaves. She could hear the bright song of the birds who remained over winter when there was a long enough stretch of relative silence. A crow landed on the bench beside her.

“Hello,” she told it.

Never hurt to be polite to birds. She had read enough fairy tales and fantasy novels to be certain of that. Besides, corvids were clever little things.

“Here,” she said, breaking off a small piece of her sandwich and tossing it to the bird.

It looked up at her, blinked once, twice, and then picked it up in its beak. It was a hooded crow, charcoal grey mixed among the black feathers. After swallowing the piece of bread it hopped closer. Now she could see a small dully red tag around its left foot. It cawed softly at her.

“Greedy, huh? Well that’s fine. Here you go.”

She broke off another piece, this time including a little piece of chicken. Was it wrong feeding a bird to another bird? No, nonsense, no more than a human eating another mammal was wrong. It certainly did not seem to care.

“Oh, don’t encourage them or they’ll never leave,” Jeremy said, shooing the crow off and sitting down next to her.

He had an improbably tall mohawk and more facial piercings than she could count, and seemed to take delight in how poorly he fit in with their customer base.

“Aww, come on. They’re friendly.”

“Sure, until they start ripping open the trash bags searching for food, and then I’m the one who has to pick it up before I open up.”

“I guess. You heading home?”

“At last,” he said with a nod and yawn.

“It’s only one in the afternoon,” she pointed out.

“Says the person who didn’t have to have it open by seven so the corporate fucks can get their overpriced lattes.”

“Fair.”

They sat for a moment, her sipping her coffee, him looking at his mobile. Then two crows landed in front of their feet. One was the same one, with the reddish tag. The new crow was slightly smaller. Maybe a mate? A family member? Jeremy groaned. He kicked his foot lazily in their direction, but they simply moved a little. The larger crow hopped closer to her feet, and dropped something.

“For me?” she asked.

Bending down to pick it up she saw it was a bus ticket. Used, granted, but she appreciated the gesture. That was the sort of thing you could do with corvids, wasn’t it? Build a friendship?

“See? They litter.”

“You’re very judgey. Speciecist. This young gentlebird is just giving me a gift in return. Here.”

She broke off two more pieces of the dwindling sandwich and tossed to the two birds. The larger one let the smaller have both. Then, it cawed at her, and they flew off. Jeremy shook his head.

“Pests,” he muttered.

“Dude, you keep pet rats. Glass houses.”

“Pet rats are clean.”

He had extolled their virtues before, and showed her photos, and she did not disagree. They were pretty cute little guys.

River blinked. A noise had woken her up. It was disorienting, waking up. In her dreams she always flew. Looking down on the landscape beneath her, feeling the wind against her wings. Waking up always felt a bit like a trap.

She rubbed her eyes, and the book she had been reading when she dozed off slid from her lap and thumped against the floor. There noise came again. A knocking. She looked around, then saw a shape outside her window, dark against the warm glow from the street lights. Frowning she got up, taking slow steps towards it. A bird.

“What?”

She didn’t expect a reply, but the bird pecked at the glass again. A crow? Hesitantly she stood, opening the window. She expected the crow to fly away startled, but it stayed calm. It hopped onto her windowsill, and dropped something on her floor. It cawed softly, and then flew off into the darkness.

“What,” she repeated to herself, “the fuck.”

Bending down to examine it she saw it was one of those tiny modern Polaroid photos. Thick and plasticky, it showed a slightly blurred interior, and what looked liked a blurred golden shape. You really couldn’t get clear shots with those things, huh? She left the photo on the table and went to make herself a cup of tea and reflect on whether she shouldn’t encourage the birds after all.

#my writing #my art #illustration #ink #sketchbook #procreate #artists on tumblr #writers on tumblr

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wellsayhelloaagin · 2 years

Text

Soul

Angst Week 2.0 Story 4/7 | Angst Week 2.0 Masterlist

Summary: Sequel to Dust. Moving on after the snap was hard but losing someone else was harder.

Pairing: Natasha x reader, Wanda x reader

Genre: Angst

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: fighting, character death

You stared up at the compound in front of you, the walls representing all that you had lost just days before.

The final number hadn’t been calculated but you all knew regardless.

Half.

Half of the world.

Half of the universe.

Gone in just a single snap.

A few of you had survived, the last remnants of a team that was supposed to be the mightiest heroes.

You felt like a failure.

Steve had barely talked to anyone, his stoic silence keeping you constantly on edge.

Bruce was the opposite, spending his time mumbling about algorithms and chemicals. You knew this was his way of coping, to try and make sense of this new world by explaining it through science but it just made you more anxious.

Thor was angry. He had spent the past few days walking around, swinging his axe through the air. He would mutter promises under his breath about not missing the chance again. You did your best to stay out of his way.

Natasha seemed more at ease after hearing from Clint, the archer making his way toward the compound to help assess the damage.

No one had heard from Tony. Pepper and Rhodey were often seen sitting together, their faces a mask of identical pain.

The rest were scattered, some staying behind to begin the clean-up in Wakanda, others venturing into the world to find answers or a way to reverse what had happened.

The list of lost souls kept growing, the world left behind was in utter chaos as people desperately clung to the hope of their loved ones being out there somewhere.

Your heart felt heavy, like you couldn’t quite catch your breath.

You had lost so many.

Vision, Bucky, Fury, Hill, Wanda.

Wanda.

Even thinking her name brought tears to your eyes, the sharp pain of loss so fresh.

You couldn’t get rid of the image of her disintegrating before you, her body floating away in the wind as if she had never been there to begin with.

You feel a hand on your shoulder and you look over to see Natasha, her blond hair still grimy from the battle.

“We’ll find a way to bring them back,” she promises you, her voice confident. “Whatever it takes.”

Time passes.

The world settles into a new normal.

Tony returns a few weeks after the battle. He brings news of more loss but the relief that floods Pepper’s face is unmeasurable.

Thanos is killed, not that it made much difference.

The stones were gone and the hope of bringing everyone back was destroyed with them.

People cope in their own ways.

Tony starts a family.

Steve tries to help those who remain.

Thor tries to escape the pain, hiding away and living his life blissfully numb to the world.

Clint disappears. There are whispers of what he does but you don’t want to believe them. So you ignore them instead.

The rest of you do what you can, saving people who need to be saved, trying to live up to the legacy left behind by the ones you lost.

Natasha never stops trying.

She gives it her all every single day, her mind constantly trying to crack the puzzle, to find the missing piece to bring everyone home.

You spend most of your time with her.

At first, it makes the pain worse.

The constant reminders of Wanda stitched into every moment with Natasha.

She had known Wanda just as long as you had, helped to train her and guide her. She had been a friend to both of you and one of the biggest supporters of your relationship.

The years you and Wanda spent on the run, Natasha was the reason you could stay together.

But slowly, being around Natasha began to hurt less.

The two of you would share your memories of Wanda, reminiscing about the past and you would smile instead of cry. You would laugh together as you worked, and you began to feel lighter around Natasha. You started to feel like your old self again, like maybe — just maybe — things would be okay.

A few years after the snap, things start to shift.

When you look at Natasha you can feel your heart beat faster.

When she smiles, your stomach does somersaults.

When you hear her laugh, you want to capture the sound to play on replay.

You recognise the signs, you realise that you’re starting to develop feelings for her.

You try and run from them.

You stop spending time with her outside of work. You avoid talking about personal things with her. You try and distance yourself from her, a desperate attempt to stop the feelings from growing.

You couldn’t shake the guilt that you were betraying Wanda somehow. That your feelings for Natasha would somehow erase your feelings for Wanda.

It doesn’t work though.

Natasha calls you out on your bullshit, demanding to know why you were avoiding her.

The conversation is messy, and all your fears are laid out on the table. She does the same, crying about how she couldn’t stand to lose someone else she cared about.

How she couldn’t lose you.

Things clicked then. Maybe Natasha cared for you too. Maybe you could love again. Maybe you could be happy.

When she kisses you, you don’t push her away.

The kiss is salty, her tears mixing with your own.

You feel like you’re flying.

You feel whole again.

Loving Natasha was easy.

You had known her so long and she knew you too.

The days seemed brighter and you began to look forward to the future again.

Natasha was still stuck in the past though and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t help her shake the insistent need to fix things.

She worked herself to the bone, constantly on alert for any sign of a threat.

You would frown when she would crawl into bed well past midnight, her body sagging in exhaustion. She would be gone before you woke up each day, already down in her office pouring over the files there.

You tried to support her best you could, bringing her food so she didn’t rely solely on peanut butter sandwiches, helping her sort through paperwork to lighten her load, making her smile when you could.

You just hoped that one day she would forgive herself for what everyone else already had.

When Scott Lang returns unexpectedly, things start to fall into place quickly.

All of a sudden everyone seems excited. Words are being thrown around that you don’t totally understand.

Tests are being conducted, some more successful than others.

Before you know it, a plan is in place.

You want to remain hopeful but you can’t shake the feeling of dread that’s eating you up inside.

“What if we fail?” you whisper to Natasha.

The two of you are curled up in bed, noses pressed together and legs intertwined.

You know you should be sleeping, everything set for the following day. But you can’t sleep, not knowing what to expect has you on edge.

“What if we don’t?” she counters, pressing a small kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Please come back to me,” you beg, not even caring about the desperation in your voice.

“I promise,” she replies easily, hand cupping your cheek as she pulls your lips towards hers.

You wanted to protest when the plan was changed, Nebula insisting that Clint would be a better option to travel with Natasha. You want to yell and scream that you don’t want to leave her.

But you stay silent, nodding in agreement when you’re told to travel with Tony.

You can’t shake the feeling like this was all a mistake though, your mind running wild with endless possibilities.

“See you in a minute,” Natasha smiles confidently at you, her green eyes shining with excitement.

Buttons are pressed and you’re taken back to the battle of New York. You follow Tony’s directions, collecting your stone as planned and making your way back to the present time.

“Did we get them all?” Bruce asks as your suits disappear.

You look around the circle, searching for a familiar triumphant smile.

“Are you telling me this actually worked?” Rhodey holds up an orb, confident in the mission.

Your eyes land on Clint as he sinks to his knees before you.

“Clint, where’s Nat?” You don’t really need to ask the question but you do anyway.

The silence in the room is deafening, no one knowing how to respond.

All the joy of collecting the stones is overshadowed in an instant.

You want to scream. How could this be happening again?

You feel your knees give out, your body falling to the floor. You’re aware of an anguished cry echoing in the room and it takes you a moment to realise that you’re the one making it.

You feel a hand on your shoulder but it’s not the comfort you want right now. You want Natasha to appear, to tell you everything was fine.

But she wasn’t coming back.

Her soul traded for a stone.

Your heart once again torn apart.

You don’t have time to grieve, the battle for the universe finding you once again.

The compound is destroyed, Thanos and his army once again threatening life as you know it.

Despite the fight waging on, you can’t seem to focus. All you can think about was Natasha. How hopeful she had seemed.

You wanted to tell her that it worked, that everyone had returned with their stones and that Bruce had used them to bring everyone back.

You knew how badly she wanted it, how she gave her life just for the chance for it to work.

You wanted to make it mean something.

Standing amongst the debris, watching Steve walk alone towards the mad titan, it felt like it had all been for nothing.

Natasha’s sacrifice would mean nothing if you lost now.

But all at once, thousands of portals appear and he doesn’t seem so alone. Your old teammates, ones you hadn’t seen in five years are walking out to join you all.

You spot the red energy a few hundred feet away and your heart leaps into your throat.

Wanda.

You don’t know how to feel.

Your heart still aches for Natasha, the loss still fresh in your mind. But Wanda was back and to her, no time had passed at all.

You didn’t know how you would explain everything to her, how you were going to tell her that you had moved on while she had turned to nothing.

You felt torn between the person you were then and the person you were now.

But the fighting resumes and you don’t have time to think, survival instincts kicking in. You dodge and weave through the bodies, trying to get close to Wanda, to let her know you were still alive.

You watch as she attacks Thanos herself, looking stronger than she ever had before. You’re certain she’s going to finish him on her own but then you’re all ducking for cover as you’re being fired upon.

Wanda is blown away and you want to run to her, to try and see if she was okay but you’re faced with a wall of creatures heading straight for you.

By the time you’ve cleared the way with the help of some Wakandan soldiers, you’ve lost her again.

You resign yourself to the fact that you won’t see her until after the battle, hoping with your entire being that she survives.

You weren’t sure you could handle losing her again.

The fighting continues around you, your body utterly spent after the exhaustion of the last day. Just when you think you can take no more, you spot Tony up ahead of you. He dives toward Thanos and they fight over the stones before Tony is flung away.

You hear your name being called and you turn to see Wanda running toward you, her face flooded with relief. You start to run toward her but you’re distracted by an alien creature behind her.

She hasn’t noticed it yet, hasn’t seen it raise its weapon in her direction. She’s only a few feet away and you act without thinking.

You leap forward, placing your body between her and the blast of energy shot toward her.

You feel the impact, the pain radiating from your chest as you fall to the ground. Wanda cries out, firing a red ball toward the creature but it has turned to dust, as has the rest of Thanos’ army.

“We won,” you gasp as Wanda falls to her knees beside you, cradling your head in her lap.

“We did,” she replies tearily, hand smoothing over your hair. “We won.”

“I-” you begin before coughing, blood dribbling from the corner of your mouth.

“Shh,” Wanda tells you, wiping the blood away. “Don’t try to talk, save your energy.”

She looks around for help but there’s none to be found, just the destruction from the battle.

She turns back to face you, offering you a teary smile.

“Please, hold on,” she begs, her hands hovering over your wound, her magic trying to heal you. “We can fix this.”

“I’m so glad you’re alive,” you whisper, the effort of talking becoming too much. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Wanda professes, hands working desperately.

But it was no use. You can already feel yourself slipping away, blackness overtaking your vision.

“No, no don’t go,” Wanda’s voice sounds frantic. “I can’t lose you.”

You want to say something but you can’t, your body feeling heavy.

The last thing you hear is Wanda’s cries and then, nothing.

I no longer do taglists but you can follow my library blog and turn on notifications to get alerts when I post a new story @puppiesbrainsandbabieshearts

#natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha imagine #natasha romanoff imagine #wanda x reader #angst week #s writes stuff

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chirurgy · 2 years

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OK NO FUCK IT, I'M GOING OFF

I love Maria's and Tomoe's stories in TT or at least I love them together as they tell the story of two different people from two different circumstances struggling with two different things.

LET ME EXPLAIN

First let's talk about Maria Torres, a quick thinking and efficient paramedic. We quickly learn that she used to live in an orphanage. It's never mentioned since when but for me I like to imagine she's been there her whole life, ever since she could recall she was always playing inside the orphanage with other kids. As she watched both kids and volunteers come and go she probably had to fend for herself and be self sufficient. No mom and dad to help her, she had to be her own parent if she wanted to go forward.

She's probably had a fascination with heroes even before the incident with the fire. I think saving Rosalia just cemented her interest even further. Heroes are seen as reliable, the kind that people go to when there's trouble, they could shoulder the world's burdens without much trouble. And Maria wanted to be all that, if she could be like a hero then she'd be golden because you wouldn't have to ask for help when you become the help you've always needed.

Or at least that's what she thought.

Fast forward to the events happened throughout the game, Maria learns the harsh truth that her idea of a hero doesn't exist. You can see her rushing to the scene, pushing people aside, do all sorts of reckless things (RIDING A BIKE WITHOUT A HELMET COUGH COUGH) to save the day but instead you see her fighting with her peers, disregarding hierarchy and coordination and eventually breaking under pressure as she finally trips with her own feet while trying to transport a patient.

And it hurt her. It really did. Seeing someone taking over in her stead was a blow to her pride. In that night, she felt like a failure to everyone, to her peers, to her patients and to herself above all. What kind of hero she was? What kind of hero screws up like that? Tomoe has once expressed concern of her for offering to help after a long shift to which Maria brushed off as nothing. Even Gabriel was offering something when she looked a bit distracted. In her selfish pursuit to become a hero, Maria was probably known to neglect her own needs most of the time.

When she witnesses another accident happen right in front of her eyes, she was once again stuck in a situation where she knew she couldn't pull it through on her own. She grows desperate, she does everything she could on each patient and eventually...she finally calls for help.

And to her surprise, everyone arrives to help her. The same people she pushed aside time and time again, rushing to her side because that's what people do: They help each other. And just as Esha's words reached her ears, Maria Torres finally learned...

That asking for help is not a sign of weakness or failure.

That it's OK to rely on others when her hands are getting full. That she shouldn't be alone in all this.

Granted, there's still a ways to go but with the lessons she's learned in her heart, perhaps someday she will become the adult she always needed in her youth.

Basically, Maria's whole side is her learning to rely on help. As for Tomoe's it's quite the opposite.

Tomoe Tachibana, born in a golden cradle, she was just a baby but the pressuring expectations of her family were already all over her and her childhood memories were of her trying to meet those expectations everyday. Stifling traditions, strict rules, for Tomoe there was rarely a time where she could just be a kid and forget about her duties as the heiress of the Tachibana clan. Her mother was probably of the few people in her life that treated her with kindness so losing her was like losing whatever kindness was left in the world and without her support, it only made things tense with her father.

Tomoe was a brilliant student, top of her class, perhaps even president of the student council as well as representing the archery club of her school. To no one's surprise, her accomplishments would get more impressive as she went to medschool and specialized in endoscopy at such a young age (I ASSUME???)

Yet for Tomoe, this all felt like a farce.

For someone like Tomoe, she had everything she needed. A nice house, probably attending the most pretigious schools, tutored by the best teachers one could ever ask for, food and heat was never scarce and despite the protests of the elders and her father, she was able to pursue her studies to become a doctor.

And it was all thanks to her Tachibana name. It felt like nothing was earned by her own merit. Was she really carving her own path if she was still relying on her clan to get anything? Was she really free from her golden cage when she's obliged to return home to talk about the future of the clan?

She felt powerless. As if she didn't have control of her life. A marionette for everyone to use, to move and talk in her stead while she couldn't do much but watch. Throughout her story, we see a Tomoe that yearned to be free and be relied on and for the first time, we see her do something reckless: We see her stay in the face of danger, an uncertain outcome that could cost her life and she chooses to stay because she believes in the path she's taken.

Tomoe as she was writing a letter for her father, has come to realize there's so much learn in this path she's chosen, but with her newfound resolve it will be a matter of time as she gets closer to become the person she's always dreamt to be.

Both Maria and Tomoe learned different things in that fateful day. For Maria she learned to rely on others, For Tomoe she learned to rely on herself. It's no wonder that they're drawn to each other, I like to believe both Maria and Tomoe see in each other a quality each aspire to have. Maria loved Tomoe's sharp insight, While Tomoe loved Maria's fiery spirit. They really complement each other quite nicely.

And honestly when you think about it, it does give me yu.kichie vibes this whole thing. Both have a girl that yearns to be free and a girl that while a bit violent means well and just wants to protect thus she cares.

ANYWAY THIS IS WHY I SHIP THEM. THANKS FOR COMING TO MY TED TALK.

#trauma team #trauma center #maria torres #tomoe tachibana #[BREATHES}#boy this took a while but this is out of my system now #NOW YOU GET TO READ IT MWHAHAHAHAHAH #I'm trash forgive me

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lilieths · 1 year

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— and the mountains echoed

Okay, this was happening— some distorted repetition of that morning fifty-two years ago when she’d traded her life for Levi’s. She doesn’t even remember if she’d cried then; the wizard’s movements had been so clinical as she prepared him for these rites. There was no time for tenderness, not when he was growing colder and colder as the seconds ticked by.

Levi had been more careful of her own corpse as she roused, holding her in his arms until she’d opened her eyes and he started panicking, his breathing ragged as he pushed away from his older sister, “Lily...you’re not— what’s going on...you’re dead, you’re not breathing and your heart wasn’t beating when I woke up, so what’s going on, what did you do?” Well, she tried saving the idiot’s life but that seemed to have gone in the garbage some days later.

Even if it was a means to a different end she didn’t want to see his life lost.

It’s the same in all these fundamental ways and different in all the ones that matter. But she would try harder this time; wouldn’t fail Clifford like she’d failed Levi.

The kid’s where Chloe said he’d be and so soon as she makes eye contact with him, the words start tumbling from her lips, “I need you to leave. I know what you’re doing with these people and I need you to go,” but the parting words seem too harsh, too rough in their delivery, “this doesn’t end well for you Austin. Not if you do this. But I promise that I still love you and I promise I don’t hold this against you and I promise that I’ll look after Juno...so hurry up and go.”

After Lilith watches his silhouette fade into nothingness, she scans the area, looking for her kidnapper-to-be...

He was easy to find really; not because it was past curfew and the streets were near-empty, but because that smug bastard carried himself like he was better than this place, holier than thou in all those ways she’d hated. He must’ve thought he had Clifford in the palm of his hand and if he did, then she was gonna sever that limb from his body.

And she’d always been a ticking time bomb, barely contained in all her anger, but hey, if she’d never see the light of day again what was one eruption? All that nervous energy she’d accumulated was buzzing right beneath the skin, and Guide, it almost felt like she was alive again. But she wasn’t, and they hated her for it; just like her father had before.

If she were to die tomorrow, what was one explosion?

Picking up her speed, she approached the man, calling out, “you looking for me?”

She couldn’t see much of a smile behind that mask, but the eyes told her everything about this man and his ego and she was gonna raise hell; because she needed this and because her son her nephew told her to.

Lilith could give him one last gift. She could fulfill one last promise, if it could even be considered as such.

The smile that graces her features then, is a mixture of things: anger, fear, elation, delirium— death had held her since that morning fifty-two years ago, but her friends and loved ones had pried her from its grasp. She’d lose it all tonight, but those memories hadn’t slipped from her yet. She wouldn’t allow them to.

Even if Chloe’s visions were right she’d hold on to everything; even if they starved her she’d find sustenance in those memories, half a decade and four Talbots later ( four Talbot’s she’d helped raise ) she’d held onto a cache of treasured moments, of seconds and minutes and hours spent with her loved ones. Connor and Kenneth, Connor and Clifford. She’d seen the changes in the first when he’d lost his brother, strained as they may have been. Lilith knew it was like losing a part of herself and she didn’t want that for anyone else. She hadn’t wanted that for anyone. Connor Sr. could lose a son, Connor a brother and Cam a nephew— and he’d lost enough as is.

Guide, she hopes Jo can’t feel this next bit.

A few more steps and she’s in his space and she’s swinging, throwing all her weight into that left hook like Kenneth had taught her; and Guide, she’s a fierce thing then, feral in a way that feels like liberation as her knuckles collide with his jaw then his nose; and Guide, she didn’t even realize she was yelling, couldn’t focus on any one thing save that brief look of shock horror marring his features, “stay the fuck away from my kids, you piece of shit!”

“Don’t you ever,” a swing to the temple, “ever,” another to the ear, “ever,” and a kick for good measure, “talk to Clifford again, you jackass!” Lilith doesn’t even count the swings, but from one second to the next, the man was on the floor, removing his mask and spitting out whatever sweet ichor had collected on his tongue.

A lot, sure, but not enough.

Now without the mask, she can see him; all of him. One look at his features and Lilith decides that he looks too much like Nora and that was a privilege he didn’t deserve. So she lunges at him, one hand grabbing a chunk of his hair as she slammed his head into the concrete— doing as much as she could before he got his wits about him. The element of surprise wasn’t enough to win this fight, but that wasn’t the point anyways. For all of Mount Vesuvius’ destruction, it left so many things to be discovered, so many bits and pieces to learn from.

If she died today, what was one last eruption?

“You kidnapped a child! A fucking child and then you use her as leverage? And then you use my kid as bait? Fuck you, you fucking fuck—” but damn, his hair was greasy, slipping from her fingers as his forehead collided with her nose. Guide, it had her seeing stars; probably wasn’t broken but it was bleeding nonetheless and she would’ve laughed about the irony had another pair of arms not wrapped around her and pulled her off of the man.

Lilith struggled and thrashed and kicked but she came into this fight knowing she wouldn’t win; that wasn’t the point anyways.

“You’re pathetic,” she starts, looking the man square in the eye ( a cut on his eyebrow, courtesy of one too many rings ) and she’s smiling; she’s scared and she wants to cry and wants to be held, but she’s smiling. “I know all about your little club, and let me fucking say, it’s whack,” the word feels foreign on her tongue, but that one’s for Juno— so is the kick that follows, tearing the fabric of her dress as it lands right between the legs; right beneath that ugly ass belt he wore. “You’re an idiot, and you hit like a bitch,” when he swings, she can’t even try to dodge it, held in place by the other random hunter that’d honestly come out of nowhere, “and you can’t fight me one on one because you know I’ll rip your throat out.” Another swing, and wow, she didn’t know her ears could ring like that anymore.

It’s a good thing she couldn’t cry anymore, but laughter hadn’t been taken from her— irony and privilege wrapped around the sound, it only grows louder as he throws insults in her direction, all those things she’d heard before: you’re rot, a fucking zombie, a waste of space.

He might’ve been right but that wasn’t of any consequence. Not now.

“Give it some time and it’ll all turn to ash on your tongue, idiot, and you’re gonna be holding the match in your—” ouch. Fuck, that hurt. A literal knife in her back, sitting right next to that invisible one Clifford had left there. Whatever it is makes her body feel heavy, lethargic. Where there was one smug hunter, there’s now two? That doesn’t seem right, but neither did the ringing in her ears.

She slumped against the body of the man holding her, and new voices filled her senses, too many now, too loud and too far away. Sleep didn’t claim her but she’d been forced into a space between dreaming and waking.

The last thing she saw was the necklace on the gravel. A gift from one to two; one pendant for an old hag and the other for her little beastie. A memento; a small success; an idea?

Whatever it is becomes a tether, a visual reminder that there was more to do, that she always wore that necklace, and that bracelet and those stupid rings. What was another eruption? Another expulsion of magma and pyroclast, leaving clues to be discovered, breadcrumbs to be followed.

Her life might end once they’d reached their destination but not all was lost, and if she fought hard enough, maybe Jo could be untethered before it was too late. Maybe wishful thinking could bear fruit.

#— the most dangerous game #— note to self: taking it all for us & doing it all for love #— note to self #tw fighting #tw swearing

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reinekes-fox · 2 years

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Blizzard

@heliads

How is that my first post about this books?!

This is set sometime between the Fjerdan kidnapping Grisha and Ravka finding a cure, for ultimate drama. It was a while since I read the books since I dont have them with me.

Zoya had lost many comrades and even more friends. Every time she swore to herself to not let it happen again, to become stronger and maybe one day it wouldn’t hurt anymore. But from all the people she knew she had never thought about losing Aaron, the squaller who was so similar to her. At first, they hated each other, but after a while hey became friends and after a few real fights on the frontlines and one journey through the Unsea they became best friends. He knew of her secret, she knew his. His amplifier was just a fake. Big fox teeth, normal bones and a ton of confidence, nothing more.

The message that he went missing on the Fjerdan front was worrying. Sometimes he just did that, he always come back and he always had a good reason. But this time it was different, the giant snow storm was his doing and it was far stronger than everything he had ever been able to do. With the information Zoya got from those damn kerch thieves and Nina she feared the worse. Still, she put on a brave face for Genya, she tried it as well. The lies they kept telling themselves. That they could save him, Nina survived it too. That they could somehow get out of this with a happy end. Zoya knew it was foolish, but she couldnt bear to bring down the hopes of the others.

When they finally found him, she was glad that Genya would never see him like that. She knew what Jurda Parem made out of the Grisha: desperate beings that only craved one thing. Somehow Aaron had managed to keep something else despite the thirst for the deadly drug: hate.

“I knew you would abandon me, Zoya!” he shouted, his voice carried by his wind. She had never heard him like that, she couldn’t imagine him even capable of sounding like that. She didn’t flinch when he looked at her like she was his worst enemy, but she would see his face in her nightmares and his words would haunt her. A part of her wanted to burn all of Fjerda to the ground for doing this to a dear friend, turning normal and good people into these horrible things. Nina looked at her, her face full of pity and Zoya wanted to hit her. She didn’t need pity, it didn’t help with anything. The winds were strong, pulling at her, trying to tear her apart and she mustered all her strength to just keep standing. This was his element now, not hers. He was hovering and the temperatures were dropping quickly. They didn’t have much time. Snow storms had always been his special talent, but he was entirely useless on a real ship, getting seasick as soon as he stepped on one. She closed her eyes at those fond memories, prayed too all Saints to take pity on his soul. Maybe pity did something for the dead after all.

“Do it, Nina.” Her voice was strong, not shaking and she looked at her old comrade. The fox teeth that he had been so proud off, false amplifier or not they were pretty, were his downfall. Ninas power made them alive once more and they dug into his throat. The wind immediately died down, the unnatural cold temperatures stopped and she was at his side where he fell into the snow. His eyes were unfocused and he didn’t even try to stop the bleeding. Instead, his hands were trying to grab something. She closed her eyes, forcing the tears back, when she realized that even in his last moments all he cared about was the Jurda Parem. She stood up abruptly, Nina looking at her worried but she looked as unfazed as always.

“Make him look like he used to be!” her voice was sharp “Genya will want to say goodbye to him. She shouldn’t see him like this.” No one should remember him like that, as a slave to this dreadful drug. In her mind she was already back in her secret garden, wondering what to plant for him. He never told her his favourite flower and she wondered if he had known that himself. Romantic idiot probably liked her own and Genyas favourite flowers the best and now she couldn’t stop the tears from running down her stony face.

#grishaverse #grisha oc #leigh bardugo #genya safin #zoya nazyalensky #grishaverse spoilers

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katieodo · 5 days

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The Parting Glass

Her puffed eyes peeled open as she decided she was incapable of getting up. She let them drift shut again as she stared at the yellowing stucco wall across from her bed. Seemingly at once, she was jolted awake again, met with the kind face of her older brother Seth attempting to be more gentle than usual. No one was taking any insults today. She sat up slowly and hugged his waist for a few minutes - silent.

Sitting at the kitchen table, Alison tried to relax the ache in her shoulders, to no avail and gulped the last of the stale cornflakes from her bowl. She sat still for a few seconds before she heard her mother rushing around above her, thumping down the stairs, and charging into the kitchen.

"Ali, come on, the car's here we have to hurry!"

"Okay, one sec."

This was the only appointment she hadn't missed since her last shift at the bar. The expensive beige interior of the shining Hearse reminded Ali of the last wedding she'd attended, and she tried to blink away the thought that that day was the last time she'd seen her grandmother healthy.

"When you get married, Sweet, we'll dance and sing through supper!" Gran had whispered with a smile of mischief in reaction to the "boring gobshites" of the English contingent. This drifted to the image of Gran laying in her new bed, at the funeral directors'. She was beautiful but she wasn't Gran. Gran would never wear lip gloss so shiny and light. And her face wasn't as full as the last time Ali had seen her. Gaunt now, hollow. Drained of the joy she’d exerted.

She was snapped back to the car seat by a sudden stop. A bird moving slowly across the road, twitching its head at the car. Everyone in the car watched as it struggled along. Too dumb to know it was ever in danger.

Everyone stood up to take communion from the priest after the service, in front of the faux mahogany coffin. The shuffling was loud, but the murmuring was warm. Alison headed for the front and passed her cousin in the other of the two lines, another sad smile. She stopped behind an elderly woman.

"Hello, my dear" She turned around. "Are you alright, there now? How did you know Dolly? Are you one of the nieces?"

Alison looked up.

"Hi, um, no I'm her granddaughter, it's nice to meet you."

"Wh- oh but you can't be dear, Alison was just a child- "

Ali tried not to stare at her bemused, but her thoughts were to quick to catch and too vague to dismiss.

"I suppose her memory wasn't brilliant towards the end, I'm sorry… But she spoke about you a lot. She loved you very much, Alison!"

Ali wanted to leave, by any means possible. She mumbled an apology and ran back down the aisle.

Seth sat next to her in the grass outside, between the gravestones. He put his arm around her shoulder, and she sobbed for the first time in daylight since she found out Gran was gone.

A sombre walk through a Celtic Forest with the ones you love is the most connected you'll ever need to feel. When you lose something and you celebrate together – sing songs generations older than you all are, with crackling voices and heavy souls, all wearing similar suits. She had deciphered all this from a feeling. When her brother smiled at her with pressed lips, and she knew exactly what he was thinking. She smiled back and her shoulders finally fell.

The middle button of her trailing black coat hung looser than it should as she stood waiting, realising how fidgety she'd been and trying to focus on the similarities between the flowers printed on her dark dress and the ones framing the open grave four feet ahead of her shoes. She'd been wiping her glassy eyes since the driver picked them up that morning, but something about the beauty of those fresh flowers highlighted the depth of the void they bordered. She rubbed her eyes. She'd decided makeup wasn't needed today, she'd have had a striped face by midday and had stopped trying to be beautiful since she'd stopped talking to people a few weeks ago.

She heard the sound of her uncle, Shane, talking quietly to Seth behind her. Something about a drink? She turned around and interjected - "I couldn't get in on that could I?"

"Hey Ali, you okay?" Shane asked.

"Fine. Give us a drink." She looked him in the eye and Seth laughed at the ground.

“Jesus, all right.”

He led them to his car across the path, opened it, and pulled three plastic cups and a half-empty bottle of Buckfast from the glove compartment. Her favourite drink. Ali wondered if it was Gran who’d started it off.

"Brilliant" Seth laughed. "Thanks, Uncle Shane" Ali smiled and took her glass.

Shane held up his drink "To the mad whore of Dublin Town."

They all laughed as they tapped cups in the chilly air and spoke in unison-

"Sláinte!"

#short story #writing #katie odonnell #katieodo

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asoulofatlantis · 2 months

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Here we go again...

Sometimes you just need to take a break from the game to get things rolling again.

I would have prefered to do it Clouds was and just kick this man in the butt... but I feel like Aerith would not have agreed to that XD

Rushing through a game was never harder as in this one...

At least it was somewhat worth it... not that I plan on going back any time soon.

After this hassle, lets take a moment and enjoy the view...

There is a freaking bounty on us.

I am stuck in the fishing town for some reason... urg. Why must you make it so hard for me game? T.T

Oh look who I've found, now that talking to Barett finally moved to story forward... I think that in the original game, she was optional.

If anybody dares to hurt that Dolphin, I am going to kill that person. Very painfully.

Okay... the Monster hurt the Dolphin. Now I am going to kill the Monster. Cloud! Do your job!

I set the difficulty higher for training purposes but forgot to lower it after training was done ^^'

The difference a change in difficulty makes is simply amazing...

S-She is? Really? Why? We are a bunch of random losers ^^' I am serious. Speaking of our part of Avalanche, we haven't exactly done anything big - especially nothing GOOD. Even if you are a hater of Shinra, our little attack on Shirna was only to save Aerith to begin with and it was a huge mess, that would have killed Berette if it would not have been fore the Deus x machina Wispers ^^'

I can still not believe that this is the right answer... but almost all the walkthroughs say it is so... it must be true, right? Also... the question was if he can remember the first time they meet. "Nope" was obviously the wrong answer XD And "The Church" was also not right, because it was the second time they meet. So... yeah... I really had no other choice then tell her that she shoved a flower in his pretty face XD

I saw people complaining about this on YouTube, because in Remake, she didn't seem to mind at all that he gave the flower to another girl, even tho he was very much aware that in hindsight it wasn't a good idea when Aerith asked what he did with the flower. I think there are two reasons for this. First of all: It has been a few days since then and A LOT has happened in the meantime, so her feelings might have changed and developed a bit. At first she might have not minded it mush or enjoyed seeing him squirm at the question while she acted as if it was fine for her, but now... she realized that she has feelings for the guy and of course then it bothers her if he gave the flower that meant "lover reuinted" to Tifa, after she gave it to him. The second one, was an explanation I found on YouTube. It says that when she asked for the flower, she still had her memories from OG (that she likely got through the lifestream from OG-Aerith - if you think this is complicated, trust me, it will get worse later on) and knew she would die eventually, so understanding that falling for Cloud would only lead to pain for both of them, thus supporting Tifa, who had been there for Cloud after Aeriths death. Which is also why we got the "don't fall in love with me" situation in the Dream sequence - which contradicted itself with the touching of his face, BUT apparently that ALSO was OG-Aerith, so likely trying to keep Cloud from feeling too much pain when losing her, but also unable to stand the temptation of touching him again? (I am not even making this shit up by the way... they say it was confirmed in the Ultimania or something?) ANYWAY, Remake-Aerith lost those Memories when the Wispers took them from her and thus now, she doesn't know any reason why she shouldn't be pursuing a relationship with Cloud. Lost me here? Don't worry, I've already seen like 5 or so explanations of which Aeriths is which and where Zack came from and went to and what happened to Cloud when... you don't know that yet, so lets move on, but let me tell you half of the time, I have no idea whats happening here either XD

I actually love how he doesn't even try to save his ass anymore by making some excuses or says something stupid like he didn't care about the flower but just says "Noted." and accepts the lecture.

Das Smiley muss hellblau sein, um das volle Golden Date zu bekommen. We still have a long way to go guys...

Sorry Tifa... but I shouldn't talk with you. You know... keep your smiley dark, if you get me ^^' That aside... it was about time they talk about their argument. Its been some time since then. I mean... not really. Its a day or so. But still!

I am glad that you two are making up but... the thing is... you know... you were actually right... or at least not so far off with doubting him and you actually do know that.

I feel sorry for both of them. At first I wanted to just say "Poor boy" and say that he is trying so hard, even tho he does not actually care, but I also feel sorry for Tifa. She just wanted to have a nice little casual chat and he... didn't look like he is interested at all and now she knows he just listens because he doesn't want to hurt her - yes, that is good, because it means he cares, but its still not what she wanted.

#ff7r mona version

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zeniths-haven · 6 months

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"I'm Sorry"

Just a little something I wrote in an attempt to process the loss of a loved one a year ago.

Loss. It’s never something you want, and it’s almost never what you expect. Whether you’re waiting right next to their bed in the hospital room or miles away from them, you never expect to hear that continuous beep, or to hear those two words that carry so much weight it feels like you can’t breathe anymore. Passed away.

It’s funny, almost. People hardly ever use the word “dead” to tell you that someone you care about is no longer in the world. Sure, when it’s celebrities or people you barely know, it’s easy to say: “They died.” But people attempt to sugarcoat when they know you have an emotional connection to the person– as if it’s possible to sugarcoat death. I get people would try to let you down easy, or try their best to not offend you, but how would using a euphemism help the feelings that come crashing down after hearing that someone that had practically meant the world to you was no longer in it?

Eventually, it gets easier. They all say that. But how easy can it get after losing someone that’s been with you for quite literally as long as you can remember? I’ve had the displeasure of losing someone very dear to me recently, and truthfully, I did not know how to handle it.

I was walking up the stairs with my grandmother after we had gotten home from grocery shopping when she had decided to break the news to me. “She’s gone.” In a way, I wasn’t shocked, because I knew it was bound to happen. I simply said “Okay.” and went up to my room. Then I started crying. The day had been going so well despite the typhoon and me having to wake up at 3 A.M. for a test. I couldn’t believe it, but at the same time, I accepted it. She was gone.

I would never see her again, hear her voice, have her ask me if I had class the next day, or what I wanted to eat for breakfast. I would never get to taste her cooking again. Truthfully, it lost its touch over time, but knowing that it was her cooking always made it taste so much better to me. She made the best version of a certain kind of dish, and I think that’s something I’ll miss the most.

I’ll also miss how she used to sing me to sleep every night when I was little, or how she’d pat my back to coax me into falling asleep. I’ll miss that she’d come to me immediately after I slipped in front of her, or how she’d blow onto a wound whenever she saw I had one. I’ll miss how she’d hold up clothes or accessories for me with a proud smile on her face because of how good she thought I’d look in them. And I regret that there were times I took these habits of hers for granted.

Something they don’t tell you about loss is that all your regrets suddenly make you feel like you’re guilty of committing a crime. They don’t tell you that even though there are words you never would have said to them while they were alive, you’d wish you told them. Whether it be a “Thank you.” or an “I love you,” you’re never going to get to tell them in person anymore. For me, those words are “I’m sorry.” Never have I regretted having a temper more than I did when I accepted that she was gone. Some of the first memories that replayed in my head were me snapping at her because I wasn’t in a good mood, or me dismissing her suggestions because I was stubborn. But I’m trying to not dwell on those bad memories, because even if we had rough patches, she always looked out for me. She would always come to me a few moments later like nothing had happened and still treat me like I was her favorite. And I would reciprocate, because she was my favorite, too.

I was never a religious person, but I always went with her to church, and I always carried around a card of Mother Mary and Jesus with me because she told me it would keep me safe– I realized today that it always did. I struggle with faith, but I pray because of her. I pray for her. It’s because of her that I turn to God whenever I really need help. And it’s because of her that I made the most sincere prayer I’ve ever made in all the years of my life: “Please take care of her.” I thanked Him for ending her suffering. If He is real, then I have no doubts that she’s up there with Him. And I hope He takes good care of her, because it’s nothing short of what she deserves.

My most recent memory of her was my grandmother telling me how she wanted to come home because she was worried my family wasn't feeding me enough. To be honest, I think that was when I realized she might not come home anymore. But I subconsciously chose to be in denial, and I started looking forward to seeing her again. It pains me so much that I’ll never get to.

I’m not even sure if we have pictures together, and I’m almost one hundred percent certain that I don’t have a recording of her voice. That’s one of the scariest things about loss: forgetting them. She’ll never get to watch me grow up. She’ll never get to watch me be an adult. She’ll never get to watch me get into my dream college. And I’ll never get to hear her say she’s proud of me ever again.

But maybe, just maybe, I don’t have to feel bad. Because at the end of the day, she knew I was never mad at her. She knew I was always thankful for everything she had done for me, even if I wasn’t the best at expressing it. She knew that she had and will always have a special place in my heart.

And I know. I know she’d be proud of me no matter what. I know she’d be happy with who I become, even if she won’t get to see it. I know that if she’s up there, she’s going to continue to be with me, and still be a part of who I am. I realize now that she was my guardian angel, and she truly is in a better place. I may never get to see her again, but at least we were thinking of each other. I know I’d never forget her.

#writing #dealing with grief #tw death #grief #im sorry #loss of a loved one #zeniths haven #writing as a coping mechanism #creative writing #nonfiction

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benefits1986 · 1 year

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Veni, Vidi, Vici & KD

They say that when you lose someone dear, try getting a dog.

I had a series of traumatic childhood experiences involving interactions with dogs. But, when mother dragon expired, I came across a book that talked about getting a dog for therapy. Of course, I laughed my head off when I saw this. How would a furry beast who does not talk help me get by during this fucked up chapter? Weeks passed and the days and nights got darker. I had to do something so different to take my mind off the agony alongside the emotional baggage I purposefully shut down for 8 long years. I got my first dog after a mini retreat. I was interviewed over breakfast by the matriarch of I’s home. She looked at me intently and asked me why I want a dog. I told her that mom died and that I’m giving a dog and me a good try. She was a bit surprised but followed up with how sure am I in as far as being a responsible dog owner is concerned. I blinked back and told her that though I didn’t have a dog, I needed a distraction. I also told her about my dog traumas but this is my chance to pivot. She smiled a small yet warm smile and asked me if I am sure. I nodded. She told me that she and I would help me make arrangements. I told her one more thing: I prayed for a dog that does not bark. She was caught off guard and laughed. Meron daw bang ganun? I told her that in the mini retreat, I asked the Holy Spirit to specifically give me that gift --a dog that does not bark. She shook her head and wished me luck. Crazy, right? But, all things are possible, I guess. During this mini retreat, a good friend approached me and asked how I was coping with the loss. Back then, even when I am in a super safe space, I felt attacked when asked how I am. Hello, old life. You’re crazy and sometimes, unbelievable. I told her I’m OK but not quite. ‘Di ba? Pa-strong. :D Yep. I was that bitch ages ago. She pulled me to the side and asked me if she could share something to me. Inside, I was gasping; but I said it’s fine. Fire away. She took a deep breath and told me that my mom was with me during the whole mini retreat. I pushed back and asked what’s her basis for saying that. She shared that she has been seeing someone with short hair who seems to be touching my shoulders during certain parts of the sessions. I told her that I didn’t feel anything. She told me that she has been seeing me from afar and that even when I’m not able to voice out my emotions, she felt that I’m under so much emotions. I told her that it’s but normal to be drowning in emotions given my state. She smiled and patted my shoulder gently. She told me that mom is always with me. I didn’t reply but smiled back at her. Trust issues: affirmative; but today, this rusty memory revisited me. Ang lala ko talaga noon, super. Sana ngayon, ‘wag na ganun because the universe is sending me people who are really happy to help. Enter New Amsterdam x Max x Helen here. Cuties. ;) Days passed and Tita D told I that I’m getting the dog. He’s a shih tzu that is considered an alpha dog. Tita D asked me if I can handle ang alpha dog. Since this dog is a male, an alpha male dog shouldn’t be tough to down. LOL. I researched about the whole pawrenthood top-line workflow and told myself that I have the basic skills to make this work. I sighed. Mga naggagawa nga namang shit para maka-move on noh? LOL. Actually, tawang-tawa ako kasi 2 ‘yung prayers ko noon: love life na worthwhile pero mas prio ko ‘yung dog na not barking talaga. Twisted shit. I actually got a solid NO na NO sa love life. Lord, naman. Lordeeeee. Lordeee. Dad told me that mas madali daw ‘yung dog na not barking kesa sa love life. I shared this crazy story to him a few years back lang din. Sabi ko, grabe naman siya. Sabi ni dad, mas grabe ako. Why the hell did I pray for those things daw when in fact, super different sila ng takada. Sabi ko siguro kasi sad talaga ako noon and wala na talaga ako sa hulog. Years back, I knew why that NO had to be a solid NO. LOL. Might share it but not sure when. :D And then, this tiny pup was handed to me by an old lady who seemed to be a mix of the prayerful and the silly. :) She happened to be the best friend of I’s mom. Syempre, she gave me super specific reminders and to do’s. Ingatan ko raw ‘yung dog and that ‘yung two siblings niya owned by I’s family na. I brought the tiny bundle home. Shet. Hindi siya tumatahol, mhie. I had to super if totoo so, I waited all day and night to hear him bark. He barks a bit naman when he slept. Cutie bark. I needed to find him a name which is not easy. One random day, I decided that since mom’s name is Veni, I’d name him Vici. Dad warned me that I’d most likely get another dog and that dog will be named Vidi. I looked at him with so much irk vibes. He told me, bahala daw ako. Vici is a sickly dog. I remember how much trust issues surfaced kasi feeling ko lahat na lang talaga, not working for me. Even my dog that I prayed for, down the dumps. But, like my journey with my mom, ‘di ako susuko without a good fight. To be specific, minsan lang magkasakit si Vici pero laging deliks level. He does not give a warning kasi very calm and sedated ang personality niya. Plus, since he doesn’t bark talaga, sobrang hassle to communicate but, ginusto ko ‘to. ALL THINGS ARE POSSIBLE. During one of his doc visits, we were told to consider getting another dog because Vici has anxiety when left alone. We needed to go to work kasi so mostly, he’s home alone. Natawa ako. Ako nga, living my “alone” time of my life pero kinakaya ko e. Tapos, siya, need daw ng kasama? Wow. Wow lang. Ako na naman maga-adjust. I reached out to the lady who handed me Vici. She laughed and told me that even when Vici is an alpha male dog, he really thrives with his siblings. An alpha male dog craves purpose. JUSQ, MHIE. Hanggang sa dogs ba naman, may ganitong kaganapan? She assured me that getting another dog will make me feel better. So, I looked for another dog. This time, I wanted a more active dog. Okay na if barking kasi natawid ko na ‘yung non-barking dog. Vidi came in the picture and shem, sobrang iba kay Vici. Alpha male dog all over kasi when I first visited him, hinawi niya ‘yung kapatid niya. He looked at me with his smug face. LOL. Sabi nung breeder, okay naman si Vidi kaso nga lang, alpha male dog much. Natawa ako. Super cutie nung kapatid ni Vidi pero may angas si Vidi na poppin’. Parang hinahamon ako kung until where can I take him. Sold. Sige. Mag-tuos tayo, Vidi. I knew his name before he came into my life. Syempre, alpha meets alpha is always interesting. But, these two aligned agad. Not like, instant pero mabilis. They have different personalities. Vici, sedated. Vidi, as a spaniel, talagang parang AUV ang galaw. Also, alam ko naman buff spaniels are more likely to be aggressive and I really had to break his ego para mag-fit in siya sa new home niya. Again, during the first two months, trust issues na naman ako because Vidi is so aggressive talaga but we aligned din naman along the way. Sungit spaniel na mala-cat ang personality but his lambing is worth watching out for. Minsan lang, almost non-existent pero sapul. Saktong mix for Vici. Clingy sila both at times but they have their own world in the same manner that they co-exist. Para silang Batman and Robin. Si Batman si Vici. Si Robin si Vidi. Vidi is pretty healthy and sturdy din kaya these two are easy to manage. Vici got super sick in 2019. Crazy kasi years passed and wala siyang anything major health concern. His emergency operation took place during my first day in my current org. Super hassle pero as soon as I got off, I rushed to Vici’s side. He bled and stood up and walked to me. Paawa much. LOL. He licked me and told him that he did a good job talaga. I think this was when I really saw dad supporting me and mga kabaliwan ko. Since I can’t skip work though puwede naman talaga, I gave specific instructions to my dad. Once Vidi wakes up, dad should be in front of Vici. Para chances of survival will be better. Chariz. Dad messaged me na nakakaiyak daw pala mga aso. LOL. Side Note: Before this episode, dad told me, kuha na lang daw new dog because Vici’s chances of survival was 50-50. I didn’t back down and aligned with Doc A. Doc A naman since alam na niya ako and si Vici told me that 60-40. I wiggled baka puwede 70-30. Add daw niya 10% from her best effort. Opak. Bait talaga ni Doc A, noh? The best kahit basher sa alis ko sa Manila. :D Doc A told me that Vici could make it and if he didn’t, it’s time to let go. LOL. Pero naiiyak kami both nung alignment namin. First time ko makiusap talaga na galingan nila ni Vici kasi marami na silang tinawid. Doc A told me that she’d make sure that Vici will see dad as soon as he opens his eye. Thanks, Doc A talaga kasi even when I was at work and super kaba ko not about my first day because super poppin’ hiring manager and team mates ko, I was dying inside talaga. Alipin ako ng sistema pero need ko kasi mahal ‘yung procedure ni Vici. LOL. Dad told me na good thing I didn’t give up on Vici even when super alangan na. I told dad that there’s no harm in pushing it because Vici is my pangangay. Recently, I got KD. Funny ng dad ko kasi sabi niya, since birthday szn ko naman daw, ‘yun na lang daw gift niya sa akin para sure na gusto ko. Sabi ko, bahala siya kasi nakakaasar siya. LOL. Basher all the way. Wala rin ako naggawa kasi I was on a trip and pag-uwi ko, andun na sa bahay si KD. Sweet naman pero gusto ko kasi ma-check muna si KD before bringing him home. I can’t afford to have a companion dog for my 2 senior dogs na not giving. LOLOLOLL. KD got his name from Kwentong Dagat. I stayed here a lot of time the past years. Nung wala pang masyadong tao. LOL. Kwentong Dagat is my safe space without me knowing it. It is where my felt and lived healing started. But, KD is also KULIT and KAGULO. Ibang-iba sa mga kapatid niya. Black sheep even which reminds me a lot of me. LOL. We’re still fine-tuning our relatively new dynamics and I can really see that Vici and Vidi are still not accepting his presence. But, we will get there. ;) Unti-unti. I think that I need to keep being gentler with KD kasi truth is, I’ve been pressuring him to fit in instead of standing out much. Alsooooo, after 10 years, I discovered that Vici barks. Small but firm. Very alpha. I love. LOL. Every time KD is sizing him up, Vici does not back down. Cutie. So, Vici is a dog that barks ONLY when needed. ;) Ah, to be a pawmom of 3 alpha male dogs talaga. Always crazy good and crazy shit. Really hoping that Vidi’s mass will not be anything major. Sana fat deposits lang or something we can address easily. Hyperinflation szn but, kakayanin natin ‘to. Ginusto ko ‘to. Gusto ko ‘to. All for my kiddos, sige lang inyo na lahat ng sweldo ko. LOL. These three taught me to tap my emotions talaga which is my major pitfall, my huge ass red flag. LOL. Totoo talaga amidst trust issues ‘yung sabi sa book. Dogs teach people compassion na walang makakapigil. Dogs also teach people to be more open. Dogs allow people to be caring without being too much nor too little. Dogs live the loyal life bound by unconditional love even when you deserve it or not. HUY. Hugot yarn? Aga-aga, gagi! :D To me, dogs teach people that life is short and that time is but a social construct. Dogs also make people feel safer after long and winding days involving trust issues management. Dogs show people that unconditional love is real, felt and lived. Ergo, maging dogs na lang talaga lahat ng tao sa earth para wala ng chances of WWIII. CHZ. PS: Thank you to my kiddos talaga because my most recent (like this week) na MBTI result which I take on my own every two years yielded a surprising result. :D Medyo nag-improve na ako sa pagiging too much thinker and more feeling na rin. More fine-tuning pa pero darating din tayo diyan.

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