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cutielando · 1 month

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mr. and mrs. ~ oscar piastri

Summary: Wedding of the year is finally here between the two favorite youngsters on the grid. Everyone is invited!

Words: 1.3k+

Other works: my masterlist

♡♡♡♡♡

Oscar and Y/N.

Y/N and Oscar.

Everyone knew them, everyone loved them.

Ever since the young Australian lad had entered the Formula 1 world, Y/N had entered it with him. Always by his side, always attending his races while also attending university.

They had been together for many years, practically having invented the term “highschool sweethearts”. Despite Oscar’s busy schedule and Y/N being at university, they always made it work, never letting the distance affect their relationship.

Moving together to the UK had represented the first sign that they were both in it for the long ride. Packing up their entire lives and moving across the globe to follow their dreams proved that their relationship and the love they had was real.

Real and pure.

When Oscar got the opportunity to drive in Formula 1 and Y/N started her studies, the time they spent together shortened by a significant amount, but they managed to make it work.

They talked on the phone every day, texting when neither of them could speak on the phone, they took every opportunity to visit each other when they had free time, with Y/N visiting Oscar at his races or Oscar coming home when he would have 2 weeks off between races.

They made it work.

But Oscar wasn’t satisfied. He needed something more. He needed something that would put his mind at ease when he would be away.

He needed to officially make you his.

Towards the end of the season, you had a few weeks off uni and decided to join your boyfriend in Qatar for the Grand Prix.

You hadn’t really chosen the best race to attend, the heat and the humidity making it really strenuous on your already tired body. But seeing the smile that Oscar had while doing the grid walk with you by his side made it worth it.

Being there for Oscar’s sprint win had been the highlight of your entire year. Seeing him cross the checkered flag first, seeing his name on that first position on every monitor around the paddock, the feeling was unlike anything you had ever felt before.

Up until the moment Oscar got out of the car.

He made his way over to where you were waiting for him after he celebrated a little with the team, taking off his helmet and balaclava and giving them to one of his assistants.

“How about that?” he asked, chuckling as he pulled you into his arms, careful not to squeeze you too tightly because he was sweaty.

“I’m so fucking proud of you, Os. I can’t believe I was here for your first win” you said, your voice muffled because you had your face buried in the crook of his neck.

“It’s technically not considered a win bec-”

“Shut up and enjoy the moment” you interrupted, making him chuckle and continue hugging you.

As he let go of you, you didn’t notice him reaching for something behind his back, not even his assistant subtly handing him something as he appeared again from the garage. All you could focus on was him, and nothing else around you.

It only really hit you when Oscar lowered himself down on one knee in front of you, a red velvet box in his hand.

“Oh my God” you said, your eyes widening and your hands flying up to your mouth.

All around you, the McLaren team gathered in a circle, phones ready and cameras rolling to catch the sweet moment on camera.

“Y/N, I don’t even know whether words will suffice to say what I want to say right now. You’ve been by my side since we were kids, you moved to the UK with me and left your entire family in Australia just for me, and I can’t even begin to explain how much that meant to me. I can’t imagine my life without you in it, I frankly don’t think I could survive on my own if you weren’t here. I want to grow old with you, I want to have kids with you and build the life we’ve always talked about having. Y/N, will you marry me?” the words got stuck in your throat, so you settled for nodding feverishly.

The entire team around you cheered, but you could only see Oscar. As he got up and slid the ring on your left hand, you threw yourself into his arms and softly cried, the moment far too emotional to be able to hold back.

Your engagement had become national news in a matter of a couple of hours. Every media channel from the world had written about Oscar’s proposal in Qatar, speculating about when the wedding would be and whatnot.

It didn’t even feel like it had really happened when you stared at the ring on your finger, the feeling foreign but so welcome and like it was meant to be.

You and Oscar had multiple talks about when you would get married, where you would have the wedding and many other problems that came with being away from home and everyone’s families.

Which is why you decided to have the wedding back home in Australia.

After the season was finished and the winter break came, you and Oscar had started planning the wedding, which you settled to have after the last race before the summer break. He had already sent invitations out to the rest of the drivers, all of them very eager to attend the young lad’s wedding.

Lando was especially thrilled, but couldn’t help making jokes about how he had never thought Oscar would be the one getting married so young.

“What did you do to him, Y/N? You charmed him pretty damn well” he’d always joke whenever you guys would hang out in the garage before a race.

Yours and Oscar’s mothers took care of most of the things regarding the venue, the flower arrangements and catering, wanting to take the load off of you while you were halfway across the world.

The only thing that you had to worry about was picking your wedding dress and flying over to Australia to get married.

And when the day had finally come, excitement flowed through your veins.

Nicole and Oscar’s sisters had helped do your hair and make-up, your mother only watching as she sobbed quietly in the background.

“Mom, you’re gonna make me cry too if you don’t stop” you told her as you watched her through your mirror, making the other girls laugh.

“I just can’t believe my baby is getting married” she laughed, wiping her tears and walking up to stand behind you.

You smiled and took her hand, mostly to calm your nerves as well.

You were really getting married. And to the love of your life, which was a plus.

After you were prepped and ready to go, your father came to fetch you to walk you down the aisle. Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest as you held his arm tightly and clutched the flower bouquet tightly in your other hand.

But your nerves disappeared like they had never even been there when the doors opened and you locked eyes with Oscar waiting for you at the end of the aisle, Logan beaming behind him as his best man.

The ceremony went by in a blur, the only focus on your part being on Oscar. You only vaguely remembered saying your vows and saying “I do”, your memory only having imprinted the first kiss you two shared as husband and wife.

You were positive that nothing could ever top this moment, getting married with all of your friends and families present, stepping into your new life with Oscar by your side.

Nothing could ever be better.

Nothing could top you becoming Mrs. Piastri.

Being Mr. and Mrs. Piastri.

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odezsmi · 4 months

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good n plenty

pairing: rin okumura + reader

warnings: light angst, hurt w/comfort

now playing 🎶 : good & plenty by alex isley, masego, + jack dine

an: hello !! this is my first time writing fics on tumblr ! while written elsewhere, i thought it would be amazing to try this out here now bc now or never lolol.

“You know you really don’t have to be here, right? feels like you’re monitoring me at this point.”

“Monitoring you? I can’t simply spend time with my boyfriend?”

The words came off as playful, but while his tone mirrored yours, you knew what he meant.

See, Rin Okumura eventually had come to terms with who he was. While it took a bit longer than he had wanted, he knew who he was inside and out.

Being Satan’s son was the heaviest burden anyone could carry, and Rin had fallen victim to that.

With every event that had transpired so far in his life, from the Blue Night to Kyoto and other following events he accepted the fact that he was Satan’s son.

Satan. A fallen angel, once radiant and powerful, who defied divine authority and was casted out of Heaven. A symbol of evil, human frailty even and the enemy of God. A being who sought to destroy God’s children and bring nothing but destruction.

But Rin Okumura?

Oh, nothing hurt more than to see how wrong people could be about this careful being.

Rin was anything but destructive. If anything, he’s more gentle than anyone you’ve ever met.

With the kindest words and the gentlest of gazes towards you, you never understood what it was about you that caught his eyes.

And each time you asked whether it be a joke or not, you were always met with his softness and light words.

“Because you see me.”

And that, made him more human and less of a spawn.

You saw him for his eccentric self, whether it’s over his cooking for him and his brother. Or how Kuro slept the previous night and he’s showing the 45 pictures he took.

Whether it be how he’s excited he’s invited out of a simple game of baseball with the other ex wires or an older woman took time out of her day to chat with him, you saw him for who he was.

Not what he was forced to be.

Sometimes though, the reminders of who he is catch up to him and he’s left shaken up with fear and doubt. The fear of his friends leaving him for good, of losing Yukio, or even losing you.

You received a call at 3 am and now you’re snuck into the dorms, not caring that he’s seeing you with crazed hair and your athletic-based pajamas.

“Plus it sounded like you realllllly wanted me here. Didn’t we just have a date? Didn’t know you’d miss me that much.” The cheesy grin was enough to make the boy scoff.

“Hey- I have a cat I can also talk to-“

“Who I can’t understand-“

“And go back into my super comfortable twin bed by myself. Well. With him too.”

It wasn’t long before you were laughing gently at his banter, reminding yourself Yukio was asleep down the hall.

If he were awake he’d certainly scold you two for being up so late.

“Well, can Kuro enjoy some nice chamomile tea and spend time with you like this?”

It was unfortunately also a late night with heavy storms, the drops pattering against the windows. It was loud and clear for the two of you, and you had managed to distract Rin for a bit from it (in case he felt guilty for making you come here).

As he glances over at a window from the empty cafeteria, you stare at his features for a bit and exhale through your nostrils.

What you would give to ease his troubles, to take away all of his fears and insecurities. It was a late night and he clearly had a nightmare, one which his friends had shunned and demeaned him for his heritage.

While not possible with all you guys have been through as exwires, who are you to dismiss that?

You’ll never understand the full extent of it, but you’ll be there as much as you can for him.

“Rin?”

His head turns from the window to look at you, a puzzled look on his features.

His expression was precious enough you’re already smiling, eyes crinkled and teeth showing. Thumb drawing patterns on the back of his hand, you hum.

“You’re… you’re so good. You’re just… a beautiful being.”

The words caught him off guard, and both of you sat in a moment of silence.

Him? Good?

Are you sure you’re talking about him?

“But-“

“You’re a gift from the universe, a blessing to many. You’re choosing a life for yourself, and defying anyone else who disagrees. Who tells you what you should be and what you are. Except…” You frown, and that worries him for a moment.

“I wish you saw how wonderful you are from my eyes.”

Wonderful.

Wonderful? All he can remember being called is aggressive, a brute, hell even a thug.

But a blessing? Wonderful? Satan would be laughing if he heard the formal.

But…

Hands withdrawing from him, you chuckle to yourself out of meekness. “Maybe that’s a bit much. Sorry if it was weird-“

Your words died in your throat when his arms engulfed you, yelping a little from the force. Your arms hung in the air uselessly as you tried to look at your boyfriend.

“Rin?”

“Stay the night with me.”

“Huh? But-“

“Please.”

The word is forced out, in a way which you understand in a snap. His hug was tight, body trembling and voice strained.

Brushing his locks down for comfort, you stand from your chair and nod. “Okay.”

With you in his arms, his soul was able to find a little bit more peace. The tranquility of the rain and him holding you close to his chest brought on sleep to him.

For so long, he had been haunted by the echoes of his past, the weight of his bloodline threatening to drown him in despair.

But in your arms, he found sanctuary — a haven where his flaws were not condemned, but embraced with love and understanding.

And just like that, he fell asleep and remained asleep throughout the rest of the night.

Until of course, a very hungry cat woke him up and an irritated younger brother scolded you both for this recklessness.

It was all worth it in the end for Rin.

(teehee I didn’t proofread so sorry for any mistakes; I wrote this at 2 am.)

#ao no exorcist #blue exorcist #rin okumura #yukio okumura #rin okumura x reader #blue exorcist x reader #aoex x reader #aoex fluff #rin okumura fluff #Kuro #I hope u guys like it !

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cleolinda · 8 months

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My sister noticed

Previously on: I grew up in a haunted house and I didn't notice: So I told you a story about how a Count Chocula used to creep behind me at night when I was a child, and I described my very weird childhood home to you. I told you how my sister had Something Dark living in her bedroom, and I told you about the time she and I compared notes and realized that we also had the ghost of a young woman in the house. Maybe.

I asked my sister to read over the draft for me, maybe gather up the fortitude to fill in some details, and she texted back, "Oh, I'll tell you anything you want. But that’s not how it happened."

I am willing to believe her version for two reasons:

1) My memory has been shit after having covid umpteen thousand times.

2) I actually remember her version of the conversation we had, now that it's in front of me.

I also remember my version, is the thing—the one where I told her about Rebecca when we were younger. And that raises some questions about how independent, how uncompromised, our experiences were. But I think those questions are themselves the story. Can I trust my memory at all? I had such bad brain fog the first time I had covid that I could not remember how to scramble eggs. A lot of things are just mist to me now. There's what I remember and there's what actually happened, but what do I even remember? And that's before you even get into the idea that we're talking about ghosts we "felt" in the house. We saw no apparitions, no shadows, no odd movements.

This is not a story where I'm asking you to believe me.

There are things you experience, and things that happen. An example from the winter of 2016:

What I experienced was standing out on our deck one night and looking up at the stars. They were moving in a slight swirl motion, not unlike the painting Starry Night. I turned to my mom and said, "Well, the stars are moving, so if the world ends or something any time soon, here's our first sign." She stared at me.

What happened was, our upstairs heating unit had a leak, and I sustained mild carbon monoxide poisoning. (I like rooms to be cool, so I had used the heater less than most people would, at least.) This was only discovered during a routine furnace check, after my vision had been a little weird and I had been deeply fatigued for two or three months. I have had a CO monitor upstairs ever since.

Did I see the stars swirling? Yes. Were they? No. That's the distinction I want you to make while I tell you all this. Did my sister and I experience things? Yes. Do I know what happened? No.

So what I agree happened was, we were having Grownup Sunday Family Dinner a few years back, maybe 2019 or so. I had been really into Buzzfeed Unsolved, which later evolved into Watcher Entertainment, but my sister was refusing to watch any of it. She's a big fan now, but she only started watching the guys last year. Yesterday, we tried to piece this back together via text.

My sister ["MS" from here on out]: Like I feel like off and on for years you mentioned [Shane and Ryan's shows] and I refused

MS: And one day my argument was to talk about our own house

Me [let's go with Cleolinda Jones, "CJ"]: You said you felt like fake ghost shows were disrespectful to people who actually experienced [hauntings].

MS: YES I FEEL LIKE THAT WAS THE CONVO

I love paranormal investigation shows, whether they're patently fake or not, as long as I enjoy the people investigating, so I couldn't understand why they personally offended her. Pulling at this thread back in 2019 is how the the whole ghost story started coming out.

CJ: And I was like, okay, but here’s one show where they get, like, nothing, but I can promise you that it's real

(Because the Unsolved/Watcher shows pair a believer with an actual skeptic who still, lo these many years later, does not believe in any of it. I truly believe Shane and Ryan would not stage "evidence," for that reason. Shane makes fun of ghosts and people who believe in them, but he's honest about it, and my sister likes that.)

At this point, we go back to the first version of the story that I posted: my sister had told me that Something had lived in the Four Closets Bedroom with her when she was a preteen/early teenager. It felt very dark, very bad, and she had not told anyone else about it until that dinner. The way I relayed it to you, Dear Reader, was that she hadn't wanted to go into detail, and I wasn't sure what it looked like, or if it "lived" in the little witch closet, or what. That night at dinner, I had gone on to tell her that, you know, now that you mention it, I did feel like something used to follow me up there at night. And this was when "My sister started crying. Like just staring at me in wide-eyed horror, her eyes filling with tears" had come in.

1. Something Dark

CJ: So you were telling me about our house being haunted. Something in your room. How would you describe it?

MS: I think it more lived in the attic

(our pal the dark fucked-up attic room)

MS: but would roam the entire floor so I felt it in the peach room [my (Cleo's) old bedroom and then later, my sister's] but more so in [the Four Closets Bedroom] as it was closer to the attic

MS: The best way I can describe it is just never feeling like I was alone. Feeling like something was always behind me. But I refused to turn around to look. It felt like a darkness that almost oozed behind you in a way that was almost suffocating.

CJ: What I find interesting is that we both describe it as Just Feelings, and never feeling alone.

My sister texted me at this point that she used to sense Something upstairs whether it was day or night; "even in the day, it didn't feel safe." But night was worse.

MS: There was one night in 3rd grade when I was reading and had like my first panic attack because I was newer to living upstairs and I felt it come in the room at night for the first time

MS: I also used to feel compelled to keep the AC running all night like it was never cold enough.

Here's the weird thing: when we moved to the house where I currently live and our rooms were on the same floor, we always fought over the thermostat. My sister hated her bedroom being too cool, whereas I get hot. I remember one night, we were arguing over it, and she was weirdly on the verge of tears: "Why do you have to have it so cold?" In 2023, my sister texted me at this point that she didn't want our childhood home to be cold; it was like the thing wanted that temperature, even if she hated it.

You often hear that ghosts make rooms cold, that's a big ghost hunter show thing—but whatever was up there couldn't lower the temperature on its own?

CJ: "If you can’t make it cold yourself, storebought is fine"

CJ: And you don’t have a visual impression of it, I’m not just blowing past that?

MS: I refused. REFUSED to look. Ever. For any reason.

CJ: I did too, so that’s interesting

CJ: I describe it as a Count Chocula, which should tell you how much it didn’t bother me. Which I find weird

(Truly, there is a reason I titled that post "I grew up in a haunted house and I didn't notice.")

MS: I can’t tell if it was truly terrifying. Or if the amount of data I was getting from it was just so overwhelming that that alone was terrifying to a child. I wish I could answer that now.

CJ: Yeah, in some way I think we’re saying the same thing. I was seven years old and I couldn’t comprehend what it was, either, so I just imagined a silly vampire

CJ: like I can’t overstate how cartoonish it seemed to me at the time, while still being very DON’T LOOK BACK

Part of the problem, she added, was that she felt compelled to go turn down the air conditioning... and the thermostat was next to the (carpeted. shag carpeted) bathroom. And then she had to race back to her bedroom... the same way I used to, as quick as she could.

MS: I also felt like I could NOT run. Like the way you shouldn’t run away from a mountain lion. It would create the need for it to chase me.

MS: What is so strange is that [learning about paranormal investigation] has not changed my perception of my experience in the slightest. Whether that’s the reality or not. It is still something I find dark and terrifying.

CJ: I think you would answer this differently now than you did then: what do you think it was?

We discussed this by text for a while. I mentioned being intrigued that Something Dark wanted to be cold (but apparently was not able to make the room cold). My sister—having agreed to be quoted here—said, "I kinda hope to avoid someone being like 'you had a demon in your house,'" as she doesn't really feel like that's what it was. Her gut feeling (and, bear in mind, we are working off nothing but feelings here) is that it was a spirit or ghost: something formerly human. We agree that it seemed male in some way (again: a Chocula).

And you're probably thinking, This is total bullshit. And it probably is! I'm not claiming any of this to be real evidence! I just find it interesting that we somehow came up with the same bullshit.

CJ: It just fascinates me that I did not experience 90% of this, and yet I got a strong enough whiff of it that I’m like, yeah, I can see it

But what about the female presence, the one I went off to color with in the middle of the night?

2. Rebecca

MS: I didn’t find out you had done the ouija board until we were adults. You didn’t tell me when we were kids

MS: That’s why I was SO shocked when we talked at the dinner table.

See, I was convinced that I had told her about my ouija adventures when I was a teenager, and "What about Rebecca??" flowed really well in the first post. That conversation was already a bit fictionalized in order to condense it from what I remembered—that's how memoirs work, really, unless you have actual transcripts of your life and room to include them. You're telling a story. I thought I was telling a condensed version of a true story. And yet, I do remember how shocked my sister was at dinner that night. And she would have only been seven or eight when I was messing around with that shit. Those two things do support the idea that I wouldn't have told her.

MS: You did tell me skeletons lived in my closet tho

I told you I was kind of a shit.

CJ: when I told you about Rebecca, what was your reaction?

MS: That’s when I went white. Bc I realized we had had a similar experience and I wasn’t just crazy

CJ: The thing is, I WOULD HAVE SWORN I had told you about Rebecca when we were younger

MS: If you did you didn’t name her and that’s why it was nuts when I realized 2 decades later we pulled the same name and we both remembered it.

We did it again, too—I posted briefly about putting this whole saga together, and how my sister asked me to give the ghost a pseudonym (ghosts deserve privacy too). And in trying to think of a good replacement, we both came up with "Rebecca."

CJ: so how did you know the [original] name?

MS: Ouija board with [best friend, redacted] in the playroom when I was like 13. She cried the whole time. We both thought the other was moving [the planchette].

You'll remember the weird, windowless, sky-blue playroom with the scary door from the previous post.

MS: But she was crying so she wouldn’t have been. And I would have never pulled out the name [Not Actually Rebecca]

MS: There was part of me that wonders if I did it but I would have NEVER chosen Rebecca

CJ: So did I bring Rebecca up first in this conversation [at dinner in 2019], or did you? I did?

MS: You said it first. I would have never [told you first] cuz I would have thought you were placating me. Like I’d never really know if you weren’t just agreeing with me

And that's when my sister had "stared at me, saucer-eyed, pale. Like I'm not sure I had ever seen anyone 'go white' until that moment." And I had told her about getting up at midnight and going to color in the weird playroom, and someone else being in there with me, no big deal.

After all this discussion, we do think that Rebecca was briefly my "imaginary friend," but our mom told me to stop talking about that. Not because our mom was spooked, but because she felt like it was rude for me to talk about someone I was presumably making up in front of company. So that stopped. Thinking back on it, I just felt like someone was sitting next to me on the couch. I didn't feel anyone next to me; when I looked, I felt like I could see where... someone was not? The space that someone invisible was taking up? It felt like something reasonably friendly. "Chill" is the word I keep using. Not super eager or possessive, just like a girl who was a bit older, maybe a teenager, a babysitter age, who liked me well enough. There was some dark shit in the attic, apparently—it did feel very oppressive in there—but I would get a sense that a metaphorical desk lamp had been turned on. A presence that stayed back, relaxed, but emanated "hey, I'm here."

What my sister and I agreed on was that we remembered how these "feelings" were both vague and memorable. I can't remember events or chronology accurately, but I remember the actual sensations and presences very, very clearly. They resist reinterpretation. I can't sit here and say, "Oh, Rebecca was totally a guardian angel, I see that now." The Something Dark sounds functionally demonic, but my sister doesn't feel like that's accurate. (If anything, she gets a sense that this could have been a malicious uncle—not father—of some kind to Rebecca, if the two beings were related: particular in their vagueness.) These two presences just... were. My sister says she primarily sensed Rebecca outdoors in our backyard, when we were pretending (were we?) to play with fairies. I didn't sense Rebecca there—but then, I wasn't aware that what I sensed was a someone, not for another thirty years or so. My oblivious ass was up at midnight filling in my She-Ra coloring book with a ghost like, "Yeah, I'm alone in the dark for no reason, this is normal." It's only in retrospect that I recognize atmospheric feelings as things that actually took up space, and I don't know how I didn't see it at the time. I can't explain that, and I can't ask you to believe it. All I know is that my sister still feels very traumatized by her experience of it—and I can't explain why I don't.

I think one of the reasons paranormal investigation shows don't scare me a whole lot is because so much of the "evidence" is random knocks and creaks and movements and vibes, and I'm like, yeah, I've lived in two houses now like that. The door of my current bedroom opens and closes on its own all the time. It's probably a draft from the ventilation system (which does not have CO leaks anymore) (probably). I've seen something at this house that a lot of people might call a shadow person, but I was probably imagining it. So many of these ghost shows just have things that I grew up with and didn't even think a whole lot of at the time; I seem to be protected by a +3 Sphere of Sure, That's Fine. Is my current house also haunted? I honestly don't know. Would I notice if it was?

#part two of two #story time with cleo #long post #the haunting of jones house #spooky season #halloween everyday #me for some reason #first look on patreon

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blueeofsl · 10 months

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Okay so this is going to be a pretty long analysis on @somerandomdudelmao ‘s most recent update… Will have to be split into multiple posts because of pictures

Been staring at the post for a while and damn,,, imagine going from dying in an unforgiving wasteland to waking up in what I can guess is a soft mattress with a healthy portion of sheets and blankets. Like those are absolute opposites in terms of comfort

The fact that Leo wakes up with unfocused eyes (compared to his brothers, who almost immediately shoot up), tells us that he’s still expecting himself to be back in that apocalypse.

Also the frown he has in the middle panel, it’s probably just his face relaxing, but we see that it immediately goes to a frown. An “ugh, im so exhausted why am I awake?” Sort of expression. Which kinda continues to show in the last panel of this first page.

And in that entire time, Leo’s eyes never fully focus. Because he isn’t expecting anything good to happen for him. So why should he even try at this point when there’s no one left to save?

~~~~~

Which brings us to the next page. Zooming in, we can see that Leo is staring at the back of Donnie’s shell. Im guessing it takes him a moment to realize what he’s looking at because we get enough time to see Donnie struggle to stay awake. And knowing Donnie, this hints to Leo that this isn’t some sort of normal hallucination.

We can also see that Leo is on a soft bed, and is being consistently monitored by Donnie. I am wondering what Donnie is working on though. Maybe checking Leo’s vitals? A new prosthetic for Leo? Or maybe, for once, allowing himself to start to plan on a new invention. Something that doesn’t directly involve with whether the resistance will survive the next day or not. He shows this sort of stubbornness to keep himself awake until he’s sure that Leo is okay.

In the last panel we see Leo finally perk up as he crains his neck back to really get a good look at his twin. He probably notices how Donnie’s shell looks a bit wider, his arms a bit stronger. But maybe hasn’t fully recognized it yet. This is also probably where he lets his vision come into focus, and becomes more aware of his surroundings because oh shit, I’m not dying on packed dirt any more.

~~~~~

Moving on to page 3, Leo reaches out to Donnie to see if he’s real. These poses remind me of the first episode of the comics.

(Episode 1, part 7) Here we see Leo do pretty much the exact same hand motion as his tiny, little self. Which kinda tells us that Leo is moving purely on instinct, on emotion. His mind telling him to seek for that sort of comfort.

When he falls in the last panel of the recent comic, I feel like it becomes some sort of wakeup call for him. Because the fall from the bed to the floor is pretty far from what we see in page 2. And the noise of his shell hitting the floor was probably pretty loud too. Enough to scare Donnie out of what ever he was working on.

Would also like to take a moment to look at Leo’s scars, specifically the one on the shell. I realized it’s the scar from when Donnie had to forcefully pull his shell together by screws and wire. (Part 2 of Episode 11)

The fact that that scar is still on Leo’s shell shows us that it was an impactful moment for him (the revived turtles so far have shown that the scars/features that stay are those they think a lot about or have an emotional attachment to). He was lucky at that time. Because the rubble that caused that injury could have easily killed him. A wrong crack/break in the shell could have left him immobile for the rest of the war. But that’s where Donnie comes in because he knows that Leo would hate that.

The reason why the scar is so big on Leo’s shell now shows how much impact it had on his mind. At least that’s my guess…

~~~~~

Moving onto Page 4, we get a good view of Leo’s expression in all panels. First one shows pain, a wince. His arm looks to have twitched towards himself in order to protect his head. It could have also twitched because of Donnie’s sudden yell to him.

The second panel shows surprise. Because his twin is picking him off the floor. Symbolically speaking, this could mean that his family is here to pick him up now, to carry him over to better times.

This surprise is also towards the fact that Donnie is able to lift Leo when before, right on the day Donnie dies, it was Leo who was picking up Donnie.

Also notice how in this page, we don’t see Donnie’s face at all. Even when Donnie is lifting Leo up in the third panel, we just see the confusion on Leo’s face. And also, perhaps, a bit of fear. Maybe he was fearing whether or not this was a dream.

But heres the thing. Many have noticed the parallel of Donnie and Leo switching positions in who is carrying who. But I noticed another parallel in this page.

First panel in page 4 looks nearly identical to this page of Leo dying here.

When realizing this, the parallel just made that page so much more emotional to me.

Because Leo was expecting to be brought back to the apocalypse in his head.

~~~~~

Moving onto page 5, we get another good view of the scar on Leo’s shell. First panel though, love the Donnie face squish. There was no way he was gonna just let his twin sit on the cold hard floor when theres a bed right there.

This might be looking to much into it, but in the first panel, it looks like Leo is shaking too.

We also see that Donnie and Leo are the same size now, when before, Leo was larger than Donnie when the soft shell was sick.

The second panel again shows the emotion Leo is going through. To me, it screams “is this real? I can’t believe it. How is this happening?” And we can see that Donnie’s grip on Leo is strong and firm while Leo seems to sorta cling/melt into his twin.

In the third panel, Donnie is telling Leo to sit still. Perhaps this is because of how badly Leo is shaking, or the fact that he had just fallen out of bed. Either way, what seems as a command for a shitty patient has another meaning; that Leo is okay. He’s going to be taken care of, he just has to let his family take care of him. Just like how he took care of them and so many other people.

~~~~~

Page 6, We see Leo’s expression again, and the way his arm is still reached out from Donnie pulling it off his shoulder. It’s full of surprise but theres not much fear being shown except for the hollowness in his eyes.

Leo still doesn’t fully believe all of this is real. Then Donnie goes and starts moving around him, checking what’s left of his arm (some people are saying that it’s the first thing donnie checked. Also wondering if this could be him planning on a new prosthetic for Leo), and what I can guess is Donnie checking his heartbeat (the little white ninpo rectangle thing near Leo’s heart).

For Leo, this is quite overwhelming. He lets Donnie do his thing, but it’s been years since he’s seen his brother be so active around him. He shows signs of nervousness too, the wobbly line for his lips, and the way that his arm is tucked towards his middle, and his knees slightly pulled up and together. In that moment, he’s trying to make himself smaller.

Going back to scars again, notice the scarring on his neck. It’s the same injury from when he went to Donnie’s lab for guidance after almost getting his head bitten off by a krang dog. It’s another scar that’s left a large impact on Leo’s mind. Perhaps part of it is because of the krang dog, but another part I think is because of him yelling for Donnie.

~~~~~

THIS IS PART 1 OF ANALYSIS!

PART 2

PART 3

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #future leo #cass apocalyptic series #rise of the turtles #cass fanart tag #oof ive never made a post this big before…#hope it works

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live-laugh-lenney · 9 days

Note

Arthur tv one shot were yn does some kind of martial art (defo not specific to me 🤭) and they get injured in a comp and he takes care of them?

thank you! xoxoxo

loving and caring, worried, boyfriend!arthur has me swooning.

arthur remembered it vividly.

the way yn unexpectedly cried out loud once her foot laid flat on the mat beneath her feet, the way she fell to the floor clutching her knee in pain, the way her opponent stepped back out of shock and the way the room fell silent apart from the sobs that came from deep within her chest that bounced off the walls and echoed around the room.

he stood from his seat beside her coach, worry coursing through his veins, his stomach knotting with fear because he'd never seen her in such a vulnerable position before. and as he took timid steps toward where she was curled up on the floor, worming his way through the gaps of those who had rushed to her aid, he could hear her muttering soft profanities and they tried to stretch her leg out.

"i'm her boyfriend, can i sit with her?"

he didn't really know why he had asked that question; he was going to sit with her, and hold her hand, whether they allowed him to or not. he dropped to his knees beside her head, one hand cupping the back of her head whilst his other reached to hold onto one of her hands, a shiver running through her once she felt the familiar touch.

"this hurts so bad," she cries softly, eyes squeezed shut because she couldn't bear the look at those who were creating a fuss around her, "i don't know what happened. i went for a kick, it felt fine, but-"

"let's not worry right now, okay?" arthur says softly, using his thumb to wipe away the tears that were soaking her cheek, tendrils of her hair sticking to her skin from the moisture, "we'll get you checked out at the hospital, yeah? i think someone's called an ambulance."

"no," she frantically shakes her head and it's the first time she opens her eyes, full of tears and panic and arthur's sure he felt his own eyes collecting moisture because he hated seeing her in such a way, "i'm fine, it's just a sprain, i'm sure of it. i didn't do anything harsh to make it break or twist it. i've done that move thousands of times, arthur!"

"i know, i know," he says, watching as a first-aider stretched out and bent up her knee to see any damage that had been done, her winces and groans of pain enough for them to realise she'd done something major enough to require a doctor's opinion, "it's best to get checked, lovie. i'll be with you the whole time, i promise."

"the whole time?"

he nods quickly and she lets out a deep breath through her mouth, a gulp being swallowed back as she looked at where the source of her pain was coming from, no redness or bruising to make her worry but she knew it was something that would keep her from competing for a while.

once the ambulance had arrived and she'd been taken to the nearest hospital to get checked out, pumped full of antibiotics to keep the pain from worsening and to help keep her swelling at bay, she felt a little more at ease. relaxing a little more when she was attached to all the monitors in her own ward, awaiting for her x-ray results, feeling a little drowsy but wanting nothing more than to go home to her own bed and her own home comforts.

arthur stayed by her side, the entire time.

even though she insisted he went home for a little bit, because she didn't know how long she was going to be waiting for, he insisted on staying with her. he didn't want to leave her alone, no when she was so vulnerable and scared and unknowing of what was happening to her knee.

"remember the night george cracked his fat head open?" arthur asks, filling the silent room with something other than the whirring of the machinery and the beeping of her heart monitor, "and we sat with him the entire night whilst he had his head stitched up."

"when chris went for a spin on the wheelchair he found and he nearly ended up in the hospital himself?" yn snickers and arthur laughs out loud, shaking his head at the memory of halloween the previous year, adjusting his seated position in the chair beside her bed, "the man's eyebrow grew back bushier than ever."

he leans forward in his chair and reaches for her hand, squeezing it softly, eyes focused on the pillow that was keeping her knee bent at a more comfier angle than laid flat out, the way she kept wiggling her toes to make sure she still had movement.

"i'm sorry for this," she mutters and he shakes his head, "seriously, i am. you could be back home right now, streaming or doing a video, not sat in the hospital with me and my stupid knee."

"i don't mind," he insists, "at least i know you aren't by yourself. you're my girlfriend, i'd drop everything for you, lovie."

she scrunches her features up and smiles at him, and she squeezes his hand back in response, letting her head drop back against the pillow behind her head.

"it can't be much longer, surely," she wonders and arthur looks at the watch on his wrist, "how long have we been here?"

"a couple of hours, at least," he informs her, "shall i go and find out?"

a sprain.

she was certain it was more than just a simple sprain, given the pain she felt when she first set her foot back on the ground in the gym, but she couldn't have been happier to know it wasn't a break or a fracture or a twist in her knee that required extensive surgery and a lot of physiotherapy to get her walking again. yn was sent back home with antibiotics to treat the swelling and the pain as well as with the strict rule of staying off of her feet for a couple of weeks...

... and arthur insisted she stayed with him.

half of her belongings were at his house, anyway; pants and socks to keep fresh, she could wear his tees to bed, and he had fresh stock of her shampoo and conditioner as well as her favourite body scrubs and washes so it wasn't necessary to stop off at her house. the only thing that felt daunting was the steps that were needed to get to his front door.

"i'll just carry you in the foyer," arthur says as the uber stops outside of his apartment complex and she rolls her eyes, "i'm not having you walk on it. not so soon after it's happened."

"arthur-"

"no," he holds a finger to her lips and she frowns in his direction, "i'll leave your crutches in the reception area and i'll come back and get them when you're settled upstairs. let me look after you, please."

"fine," she huffs and he exits the car, running round the back to help her out of the other side, letting her lean all of her weight on him, "i'm not an invalid though, arthur."

"i know," he smiles, closing the door behind them as the uber drives away back down the road, "i just want to look after you, okay? let me take care of you." xx

#arthurtv #arthurtv imagines #arthurtv fics #arthurtv blurbs #arthurtv headcannons #arthur frederick #arthur frederick imagines #arthur frederick fics #arthur frederick blurbs #arthur frederick headcannons

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clarcced · 1 year

Text

An Analysis of the Good Omens 2 Title Sequence and Trailer / S2 Theories

•

(Edit: Almost all of these theories about S2 turned out to be wrong, but some deductions can pave the way to S3. I added edits so certain parts are clearer after watching S2. If you're still curious, let's jump right into it.)

•

I have some theories I would like to share. This is going to be a long one, so buckle up.

The title sequence starts off simple: Crowley climbs his way up and Aziraphale flies down to earth, meeting each other.

On this shot two tombstones can be seen: "HERE LIES THE FORMER SHELL OF BEELZEBUB" and "Here lies... ADAM" ... so hold up. We know that there is going to be a timeskip between GO1 and GO2... But Adam died? The antichrist who singlehandedly beat the devil by shouting at him that he's not his dad, is dead already? Something's definitely up.

[Edit: I have been informed that Adam on the tombstone is not Adam Young, so, no.]

In this shot Aziraphale and Crowley are in what seems to be Hell by the pentagram on a cave wall on the top right side of the shot, with people (presumably dead, since this is hell) following them, also a desk with an old monitor by a chair on narrow rocks stacked on top of each other... Let's come back to this later.

While a reenactment of the Blitz plays out in the sequence, a big poster can be seen on the right side. The upper left side of the poster which includes one of the seeming love interests is... shot? Broken?The poster belongs to a 1946 movie by the title "Stairway To Heaven". Here's a part of the synopsis wirtten on the showtimes.com website: "A World War II RAF pilot who is forced to bail out of his crippled plane without a parachute. He wakes up to find he has landed on Earth utterly unharmed...which wasn't supposed to happen according to the rules of Heaven. A celestial court argues over whether or not to claim Carter's life or to let him survive to wed his American sweetheart." If I were to theorize "anything" based on the plot of the movie, I'd say after Crowley disguised as Aziraphale leaves heaven unharmed by the hellfire heaven is confused but keeps tabs on him, as we see Muriel visiting Aziraphale's shop in the trailer. Remember in the trailer when Aziraphale asks Gabriel why he's come to his shop and Gabriel answers "You know when it's like you don't know anything at all and that you're totally certain that everything would be better if you were near just one particular reason." well it is in my opinion %99 right before the beginning of the sneak peek and the sneak peek begins with "...So anyway, that's how I felt that so long as I came here, that something terrible might not happen to me." It was shown in the trailer as if while Gabriel was giving the before mentioned speech almost Aziraphale was thinking about Crowley - well Gabriel may somehow (coming back to this later) think of Aziraphale the same way by how he felt safe coming to his bookshop.

[Edit: Carter is Gabriel, the American sweetheart is Beelzebub.]

Crowley being Crowley possibly having watched this movie after whatever happens the Blitz between him and Aziraphale, he's gonna spiral to compare the American sweetheart in the Stairway To Heaven (1946) movie to Gabriel. Thus the lashing out.

Oh and Blitz in German means lightning, so this theory could make sense with Crowley producing lightning or Blitz. Not sure about this specific lashing out theory, but I thought I'd just throw it out there.

Moving on!

First screenshot is from the title sequence with two posters "The Fabulous Ladies Of Camelot" written on them. In the latter screenshot we can see the Ladies Of Camelot and one other person standing behind Aziraphale.

In this scene in the title sequence Crowley and Aziraphale on stage - Aziraphale being in his Ladies Of Camelot stage costume. The curtains unveil.

In the title sequence right after the curtains unveil Aziraphale and Crowley fly around each other - which is quite romantic, two hypothetical worlds with a bridge is seen - then the bridge breaks in half and the camera spirals sideways. In the background a type of space phenomenon is seen, which I interpreted with some doubt as a reconstruction by the Good Omens animators/graphic designers of the Hubble Space Telescope's photograph of The Pillars of Creation (Source: NASA). Or it could be a space photograph of something else entirely, but let's entertain this idea.

[Edit: Turns out this specific space phenomenon used in the title sequence is called "Elephant's Trunk Nebula". Pillars of Creation also consist of Elephant's Trunk nebulae, but alas, I was wrong. Thanks to @burbuur for the info!]

If we take this interpretation and make it into a theory, with the bridge between Crowley and Aziraphale's worlds torn, which are heaven and hell, and what bridges these two worlds is death - who can't be killed (or can they?) as we've seen in the first season - with the metaphorical pillars of creation also being present in the scene, death... dies? Or vanishes? And creation gets out of control? Let us examine this theory.

In the title sequence after the scene where Crowley and Aziraphale enter a cave, a delivery man with either grey or white wings can be seen carrying a box (0:10).

Next time we see this exact box is when Crowley and Aziraphale are leading everyone to an old movie theater - the box is reflected on the screen. The only remaining Horseman of the apocalypse - which these boxes were delivered to - is death, so why hasn't it been opened? We saw the winged person carrying the package (presumably after their death, again) but couldn't deliver it maybe? I say not possible, since The International Express Man can deliver anything anywhere anytime, so the reason the package hasn't been opened is because the recipient is either dead or doesn't want to be found.

Then the audience is transported from two dimensional third person perspective to a third dimentional first person perspective, the screen rips and we the audience walk the bridge through statues left and right - on the left side are winged statues with a warm yellow light barely shining on them, on the right side also stands a winged figure, but a colder white-ish/blue-ish light shining brightly on the statue. This imagery of warm and cold is represented in Good Omens as angels and demons. If we take the "everything is falling apart because one of the pillars of creation is gone" arc and apply it to this shot, it can be said that not even heaven and hell and heaven breaks, but the fourth wall breaks as well - which could be what Gabriel was meant to warn Aziraphale about.

Remember the computer and the chair in hell? Who would have a computer and a chair in hell? Well...

Also remember Death playing an arcade game in season one? By their style choices regarding clothing, motorbike and games it seems likely that Death is an old fashioned entity, which suggests that old monitor could also be his. In an unreachable spot, the stones stacked on top of each other barely hanging on the verge of falling apart, no one would bother them. A perfect spot, which is now empty.

Also have to point out something I hadn't realized before, but on the left arcade the player with the highest score is Sir Terry Pratchett and even Death couldn't beat his score. Rest in peace legend.

So Death goes missing. Heaven and hell don't care since they're immortal supernatural beings. To make them care, because he wants war, Gabriel goes to Earth to "warn" Aziraphale.

By his eyes changing color it is safe to assume that his amnesia is controlled by someone or some angels in heaven. Aziraphale and Crowley realize this eventually and lock him up in his own angelic grave.

Angels coming down in their elevators, demons being thrown off into the sky in the shoots, "It's a getting closer" being thrown out in the trailer a lot (newspaper held by Aziraphale and the song playing in the background)... What does all this mean? Well fellow reader, I'm glad you asked. See that tiny little poster?

It's Armageddon vol. 2 baby! (Though it can be argued that this poster is a reference to this being the second season.)

[Edit: I have been informed of what The Second Coming actually is. In the following paragraphs, the mention of "Armageddon vol. 2" should be taken as the Second Coming, as I didn't know what it was and used the nane Armageddon 2 in its place.]

Adam is dead, remember? So who is to stop another armageddon? We know that in the Good Omens universe one can be ressurected (Aziraphale after the birthday party reviving the dove in his pocket) so Satan could have been resurrected by Death themselves, which is why they have been missing. [Edit: Satan isn't dead. He was simply beaten in battle. My bad!]

Gabriel is a messenger angel in Christian theology - so his original purpose could be to warn Aziraphale of Satan's revival [Edit: return] but the amnesia factor plays in this case. How would an amnesiac angel warn them? Well he couldn't, so they keep Gabriel away. Heaven teams up with hell (who have no idea what Gabriel wanted to warn Aziraphale about) to find Gabriel. Which heaven knows exactly where he is, but keeps that knowledge to themselves as to stir up the war. Since Death is gone and no one ever dies anymore, Armageddon vol. 2 would be much more destructive.

Heaven could have much more up their sleeves, such as literally making love rain on humanity. With the world's population rapidly increasing making people fall in love with each other could lead to chaos, since there are too many people to love. Coming back to Gabriel "somehow" feeling safe by Aziraphale, when he arrives at the bookshop his eyes are humanly, which suggests that some angelic knowledge is present in his amnesiac mind, but his body is human. Heaven could have made his human body love and feel comfortable around Aziraphale, but not his mind.

To summarize this theory: Death is gone, population is increasing. Love, which is what makes humanity human, is going to destroy humanist values and bring about the downfall of heaven, hell and earth. A second Armageddon.

Thank you for reading this far, I hope you enjoyed reading!

[Edited August 2023]

#good omens #good omens theory #good omens season 2 #good omens trailer #good omens show #aziraphale #anthony j crowley #good omens aziraphale #good omens crowley #good omens death #ineffable husbands #good omens fandom #aziracrow #good omens 2 #good omens countdown #good omens gabriel

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abarbaricyalp · 2 months

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Big kinda-sorta fill for a bunch of prompts all at once because I thought they fit well together. Don't think too hard about the logic of this one. Truly. Don't. Written for the @sambuckylibrary Anniversary Event! Cw: violence, blood, injury, medical procedures (on page and discussed), radiation poisoning (sickness, pain, and gore affiliated), body horror (in a dream) Read on AO3!

Upon Faith

It's 10:34 AM on a Thursday morning when the Winter Soldier kills the GRC delegation leader in the middle of an international summit. He takes out every security agent who gets near him, maims most of the bystanders. He looks right into Sam's eyes as he raises a modified sig-sauer micro-rifle and shoots Sam directly in the middle of the star covering his chest.

Deliriously, as he’s falling backwards with extraordinary pain blooming along every nerve in his body, Sam thinks about how Bucky hated the shield looking like a target, and that he had designed this suit for him and put a target right over Sam's heart anyway.

. . .

Sam woke up a day later, in a hospital room with a heavy cast around his ribs to hold him immobile at least temporarily. There was no shifting around in this behemoth. He couldn't even reach for the water on the table next to him. Normally, it was Bucky's job to bitch about whether he was getting enough fluids, to hand him water glasses and sneak in the digestive sodas Sam liked.

“It’s a bulletproof vest,” Bucky had said once, using an arm across Sam’s hips to keep him in bed. “That means the bullet doesn’t go in. It doesn’t mean the impact doesn’t hit you.”

Sam tried to compare that gunshot to this one. He hadn’t been wearing his Captain America suit that time, just regular kevlar. But the shot had come from a handgun from much further away. The micro-rifle was designed for performance and Bucky had been right in front of him. The vibranium was strong, but that blast had cut right through Sam. What kind of bullet was it? One large one? Or a volley of fire? He couldn’t even remember the sound of it firing.

"It wasn't him," Sam said as soon as someone walked in the door–brought forth by the increased rate in his heart monitor. “I know him better than you do. That wasn’t him.”

He was surprised to see that it was Everett Ross who had walked in the door. If for no other reason than he thought Ross was in Wakanda again. Ross looked up from a file folder thicker than a fist. “Now why am I not surprised to hear you say that, Captain?” he asked. “Nevertheless, you’re not to contact him. You understand of course.”

Sam’s jaw tightened and he tried to sit up again. It didn’t work again. “It wasn’t him. He’s in danger. He’s undercover right now.”

Ross scoffed slightly. “I don’t think he’s the best candidate for undercover work. Pretty identifiable.”

Sam sighed in frustration, tossing his head to the side because he couldn’t do anything with his arms. “Ask your girlfriend. She’d know more than me.”

Unfiltered disgust flashed across Ross’s face. He practically flushed green. “She’s not my girlfriend,” he said sharply. “I heard you two had a falling out,” he added, prodding at old bruises that Sam didn’t want to expose. “You two haven’t spoken in months.”

“He didn’t do it,” Sam repeated.

“The only stable thing in his life gets cut out like that…” Ross suggested with a shrug. “Could make anyone lose it. Especially after prolonged time with Valentina.”

“Bucky’s not a bomb,” Sam almost snarled. “He’s not going to explode from a pin-prick. He’s in trouble. Whatever’s going on, he has a target on his back now.”

“You could say that,” Ross agreed. “Where is he?”

Sam almost managed to throw his hands up in the air. The AC cut on above them and Sam listened to it hum and churn while he stared at Ross. “I don’t know. Like you said, we haven’t talked since he was assigned to the Thunderbolts.”

“Why not?” Ross prodded, poking harder at the bruise encasing Sam’s heart.

Sam found himself shaking his head. He wasn’t sure where the gesture actually came from. The actual answer was that Sam knew Bucky was hiding something from him. Something about this assignment, about the team. He’d adopted this asinine habit of taking on all the dirt and blood that could possibly be slung at Sam, doing all the shady work that Sam came up against recently. Sam had confronted him about it, this assignment had come in, Bucky left without so much as an argument. Just a kiss to the scar under Sam’s eye. He’d been unreachable since.

But Sam couldn’t say any of that to Ross. It would only stoke the flames snaring closer to Bucky, wherever he was. Sam had learned the hard way to watch what he said to their bosses. Every watercooler conversation was some subterfuge to notch another complaint about Bucky’s pardon. Now? If Sam didn’t find Bucky before anyone else, Bucky was never going to see the light of day again.

“We decided long distance wouldn’t work,” he said drily.

Ross snorted and flipped through several pages in the tome in his hand. “Captain, the sooner you help us, the less damage he can do. Do you know he’s been MIA for almost three weeks now?”

Sam’s blood ran cold. He was glad Ross wouldn’t be able to tell how his body tensed through all of the casting on him. Three weeks? Had they even been looking for him? Sam didn’t know anything about the Thunderbolts, but he was sure the leash he was on must’ve had some slack. How long until the team’s handlers decided something was wrong? How much effort had even been put into looking for him before this?

“You think Hydra got their hands on him and reverted him,” Sam surmised. “It didn’t happen. Shuri and her team took all of that out. It took them a decade to break him last time. This wasn’t him. Something else is going on. You’re wasting time focusing on him. You’re wasting his time.”

“Then what do you think happened?” Ross asked, finally looking up at Sam for longer than a glance. He closed the file in his hand and everything.

“The same thing that happened last time,” Sam said. “A mesh-mask. A robot. A shapeshifter. A clone. I don’t know. I only saw it for a few seconds. But it wasn’t Bucky. I know him better than anyone else.”

“You were actively being shot at as well,” Ross pointed out. “I’d hardly consider that a healthy state of mind to be making judgement calls. It’s no secret that you and Barnes are a weak spot for each other. Your opinion, your defense of him, doesn’t weigh very much here.”

Sam bared his teeth and strained too hard all at once. Pain laced up his body, straight down to the bone of him. It cut through the fuzz of quality pain medications and cleared his head only to stuff it full of over-stimulation. Every bone in his chest felt like it was covered in buckshot and he couldn’t get a deep breath in, which made him panic. He was panicking about Bucky too. All his concern came flooding in at once. He wanted out of this bed. He wanted his own phone. He needed to call Bucky, even if he wouldn’t pick up. Sam could leave a message warning him.

Ross tutted and came over to increase Sam’s morphine drip. Too fast, Sam thought, fighting through the red haze and black spots creeping into his vision, that was too much all at once.

“We’ll find him, Captain,” Ross said, stepping back. “Don’t worry about that.”

“Don’t you even–” Sam started, but his tongue got heavy in his mouth and the spots in his vision grew and grew and grew. Don’t hurt him, he tried again as he fell into endless black.

Read the rest on AO3!

#sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #captain america #sambucky fanfic #the falcon and the winter soldier #writing #tfatws

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betterbooktitles · 2 months

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The screen I spend the most time with these days is a black LCD monitor attached to a PC in an indie bookshop on Long Island. I spend whole days looking at point-of-sale software called Anthology which also keeps track of the store’s inventory. Often, it’s accurate. Occasionally, it says we have three copies of The Bell Jar that have simply disappeared from the face of the Earth. No one stole them. They were raptured, like socks that never make it out of the dryer.

If you’ve never worked a retail job, let me tell you what it’s like: you come in with a little spring in your step, caffeinated, and ready to greet your coworkers and update them on how terrible your last shift without them was. Though the memory of the previous shift’s slog might give you a little anxiety, and though a hangover can make your fuse a little short, you’re in a better mood at the start of the day than at the end. Tedious tasks like ordering and unboxing books (sci-fi movies did not prepare me for how much cardboard there would be in the future) seem manageable in the morning. Customers seem kind. The items you’re selling feel necessary to human happiness. Whatever is going on in your life is put on pause to manage store operations, and time flies. Then, by 3 PM, whether you had time for lunch or not, you wish you had done anything else with your day — or, better yet — your life.

While the back-straining work of moving inventory around the store or walking the floor helping customers all day without a second to sit down might make you physically tired, the real work of retail is mental and forces employees to become part-machine. Retail workers have to ask the same three questions (“Rewards?” “Bag?” “Receipt?”) and reply to the same three questions (“Have it?” “Bathroom?” “Manager?!?!?”) for 8-10 of their most worthwhile waking hours.

In bookstores, there is the added expectation that while you’re participating in this mind-numbing routine, you’re at least able to pretend to like and engage with literature. I'm not arguing that people working at Old Navy aren’t eloquent or as over-educated for their job as I am. If they aren’t teenagers, most retail employees I’ve encountered have, by virtue of talking to coworkers and customers all day, the same high emotional intelligence as the smartest people I know who chain smoke outside bars. Still, my guess is that it’s rare for a customer to see a clothing store employee folding clothes, and think “I wonder what their opinion is of the latest Ann Patchett book” or “I wonder if they read Knausgård and run a book club when they’re not helping me find jeans in my size.” People see booksellers doing the same tedious tasks as any other retail employee and assume they not only possess unlimited knowledge about the state of publishing but also have unlimited hours to read while in the store. Customers hold booksellers to an impossible intellectual standard. When they fail to live up to said standard, they’re subjected to conversations like this:

“You haven’t read the latest Kingsolver?” a customer will ask, “Why not? What about this one? Or that one? It’s so good though! I thought you would have read all of these!”

What’s a shame is that they think they’re being kind when they half-recommend, half-admonish bookstore employees. Worse are the people who are flat-out rude. Case in point, a man came into the store at hour six of my shift, and without any preamble, treating me like I was a human Google search bar, said the name of an author, then started spelling the name. When I asked for a second to look up what I assumed he was asking for, he rolled his eyes and began spelling slowly and loudly: “PAUL. P…A…U…”

Sadly, I’m too old to be treated that way and without thinking I raised my hand and said sternly “Don’t do that.” Now some oblivious retired banker is walking around Long Island asking himself why indie booksellers are so mean. My Midwestern niceness has disappeared, my helpful attitude is now nonexistent. I have been worn down by the people I’m paid to be kind to.

Read the rest here.

#lit #lol #humor #funny #essay #essays #bookselling #barnes and noble #reading #writing #customers #american fiction #books #literature #better book titles #dan wilbur

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massivedrickhead · 4 months

Note

OMG HI HAPPY 2024!! missed your one shots

Anyway, how about prompt #14? Don’t have anything in mind but I know you’re gonna crush it, u always do🫶

Sorry this took so long for me to get to!

I've moved away from the bechloe & Sarah au, and I'll likely be sticking with just doing separate prompts at least until my inbox is cleared, as I can't think of a way to make these ones fit that au.

We're back with a little sprinkling of angst now, so I hope you like it!

14. “I don’t want you to be alone right now.”

Prompt taken from here.

Read on AO3

“Bec?”

Chloe’s voice was unexpected, and it caused Beca to snap out of her spiralling thoughts and face the doorway.

“Hey,” Beca said. Her voice was rough and tired, and she cleared her throat before she spoke again. “You didn’t have to come.”

Chloe shook her head as she took a seat in the chair at Beca’s bedside. “I’m still your emergency contact, of course I did. You shouldn’t be by yourself right now.”

Beca could see the concern in her ex-girlfriend’s eyes. Could see the tears that were shimmering in them, along with the barely contained panic.

Chloe needed to be there as much as Beca needed her there.

“Thank you,” Beca said. There was much more she wanted to say - much more she needed to say - but she didn’t have the energy to try and summon the words. The room was quiet, save for the repetitive beeps of Beca’s heart monitor, and all she wanted to do was close her eyes and sleep.

“They said you collapsed?” Chloe asked.

“Yeah,” Beca said. “Right in the middle of the office, so that’s fun for me.”

“No one came to the hospital with you?”

Beca scoffed. “It’s crunch time, I’m surprised they stopped for long enough to call an ambulance.”

They were silent for a little while before Chloe spoke up again. “Beca, are… are you sick again?”

Beca swiped her tongue across her chapped lips and cleared her throat again. “Yeah.”

“That’s why you ended things,” Chloe said, finally getting the answer to the question that had been plaguing her for months. She felt her throat get tight but she told herself she wouldn’t cry.

“It was so hard for you last time,” Beca said. “Taking care of me took so much out of you and I didn’t want to have to put you through it again. It’s… worse this time. The prognosis is worse and the treatment is going to be more intense. I couldn’t ask you to stick around and take care of me again.”

Chloe let out a shaky breath and furiously blinked away tears. “That should have been my decision to make,” she said.

“And I didn’t want you to have to make it,” Beca said. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“You can’t protect me from this,” Chloe said. “It’s too late, I’m already in love with you.”

“Chloe-”

“No,” Chloe said, “whatever you’re going to say, save it. I’m… God, Beca, I’m so mad at you. I’ve been confused and heartbroken for months, trying to figure out what I did wrong, and you’ve… You’ve been sick and alone.”

“It’s too much to ask you to take this on again,” Beca said, her head starting to hurt. “I can manage on my own, and you can have a full life.”

“I don’t want a life without you in it.”

“Well you’re shit out of luck then,” Beca snapped. “Because whether we’re together or not, mine is probably going to be a hell of a lot shorter than yours. You’re going to have to get used to me not being in your life eventually.”

It hit Chloe right in the chest, and she squeezed her eyes shut in a failed attempt to keep her tears at bay.

“I’m sorry,” Beca said, the anger gone from her voice now. “I’m sorry, I’m just… I’m tired. I’m tired and I don’t know what to do.”

Chloe quickly wiped her eyes and took hold of Beca’s hand. “I’m sorry too,” she said. “Please don’t push me away, Beca. I know it’s going to be hard, but I want to be with you, for however much time we have left. Whether it’s ten months or ten years, I want to spend them with you.”

“I’m too tired to keep fighting you on this,” Beca said. “I don’t have it in me.”

“Then don’t fight me,” Chloe said. “Beca, if you think I’m capable of walking away from you right now then you don’t know me at all. I told you all those years ago that I am in this with you, and I’m telling you the same thing now.”

“Okay,” Beca said after a long pause. She sounded tired, but also relieved. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Chloe said. “So much.”

“I’m so tired. It’s… it’s been really hard,” Beca said. Tears slipped out of her eyes and down her cheeks.

“I know,” Chloe said. She moved closer to the bed so she could brush the hair from Beca’s face. “I wish you’d called me, I wish I’d known about this sooner, but I’m here now. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

They sat in silence for a little while longer while they waited for Beca’s doctor. It didn’t take long for her to fall asleep, and when she did Chloe finally let out the tears she’d been holding in.

Taking care of Beca the last time she’d been sick had been hard for both of them, and she couldn’t imagine how much harder it was about to get. But she meant what she said, and she wouldn’t be going anywhere. She would be by Beca’s side no matter what.

It was early evening when Beca’s doctor finally came by to see them. She’d been dozing on and off for the best part of an hour and was starting to feel restless.

“Okay Beca,” he said, reading her chart when he entered the room. “We’ve got your results back and you’re good to go.” He looked up and spotted Chloe. “Oh, hello Chloe. I didn’t expect to see you.” He looked back at Beca. “You finally told her then?”

“Yeah,” Beca said, glancing at Chloe who squeezed her hand in response.

“Good, because this whole trying to do everything on your own and running yourself ragged isn’t going to work anymore,” he said. “You need to rest, eat well, drink water, and come to all of your appointments.”

“She will,” Chloe said. “Is that why she collapsed?”

“In a nutshell, yes,” he said. “Dehydration, low blood sugar, etc. You can’t keep going the way you’ve been going. Looking after yourself is your full-time job now, do you hear?”

“Sure,” Beca said, knowing it wasn’t really as simple as that. “I hear you. So I can go home?”

“You can go home,” he said. He looked at Chloe. “Rest, food, water, appointments.”

“Understood,” Chloe said. “I’ll keep on top of it.”

“This is why I didn’t tell you,” Beca muttered as a nurse began removing her IV. “I feel like I’m getting told off by a teacher.”

“I mean technically you are,” Chloe said with a small smirk. “I am a teacher, I’m just not yours.”

Her legs were still shaky as she got off the bed, and she took hold of Chloe’s arm when she offered it.

“Thanks,” she said.

“Let’s get you home. What do you want for dinner?”

“I’m not really hung-”

“Did you listen to any of what the doctor just said?”

“Sorry,” Beca said with a sigh. “I feel kinda nauseous still.”

It was Chloe’s turn to sigh now, though it wasn’t out of frustration. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know you aren’t trying to be difficult. How about that chicken noodle soup I used to make?”

“Yeah,” Beca said. “That sounds good. Thank you.”

They made their way back to Chloe’s car, and she cranked up the heat as soon as she turned on the engine, hoping to stop Beca from shivering.

“Where do you want to go, your place or mine?” Chloe asked.

Beca thought about her untidy apartment, the one she’d moved into after she ended things with Chloe. It was cold, in a fairly bad neighbourhood, and was only partially furnished.

She thought back to the home she’d once shared with Chloe and her heart ached for it.

Beca opened her mouth to answer but closed it again.

She knew what she wanted. She knew where she wanted to go, and who she wanted to be with, but she stopped herself. She didn’t even know what they were yet. They loved each other, sure, but was that enough to repair the damage she’d done? Chloe said she’d look after her, but that wasn’t the same thing as being in a relationship again.

“Bec?”

“You don’t have to do this,” Beca said, feeling like a broken record but also feeling like she couldn’t not say it.

“Beca,” Chloe said with a sigh. “I thought we’d moved past this.”

“I hurt you,” Beca said. “I know that. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t be mad, or that you’ve got no choice but to stick around, just because I’m sick.”

“Do you want me to be here?”

“Yes,” Beca said, “but-”

“Do you want to get back together?”

“More than anything.”

“Then why are we still talking about this?” Chloe asked, feeling exasperated but also slightly panicked. She just got Beca back in her life, and she was terrified about what would happen if she couldn’t talk her back from the ledge.

“Because I don’t deserve it,” Beca said. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness or kindness. I don’t deserve you.”

“So I get punished because you feel guilty? I have to be without the woman I love because you think you don’t deserve me? Yes, Beca, you hurt me and I was mad, but not mad enough that I wouldn’t want to be with you. You’re acting like I’m some kind of saint. Like I’m doing all of this out of the goodness of my heart, but it isn’t that at all.”

“Then what is it?”

“I’m in love with you, and I want to be with the person I love,” Chloe said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I want to take care of you and help you get better because I want to be with you. I’m not doing this out of guilt or a sense of obligation. I don’t know how many more times you need me to say that I’m here because I want to be here.”

“Maybe just one more time?” Beca asked, causing a smile to finally break across Chloe’s face.

“I love you,” Chloe said, cupping Beca’s face in her hand. “We’ve already wasted too much time being apart. I don’t want to waste anymore.”

Beca swallowed and closed her eyes, her forehead coming to rest against Chloe’s.

“I love you too,” she said. “And I’m sorry. For everything.”

“I know,” Chloe said, pressing a soft kiss against her forehead. “I’ll ask again, where do you want to go?”

“Can… Can I come home?”

Chloe’s smile grew. “I would really, really like that.”

#bechloe #pitch perfect fanfiction #pitch perfect fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #beca mitchell #chloe beale #pitch perfect #beca #chloe #bechloe fanfic #bechloe fic #pitch perfect fic #bechloe prompt #prompt #no matter the timeline

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typingcorgi · 1 year

Text

sanctuary; part i

pairing: joel miller x f!reader (no y/n) warnings: tw for mention of blood, mild gore, violence. no smut yet but honey have you met me? it's coming (and so is joel, and you, ey-ohhhh) word count: 1600 author's notes: canon divergent aka no ellie I'm sorry kids cramp my style

i feel like this is 80% character study and 20% plot, but these ideas have been gnawing at me like a hungry ass clicker and i needed to get them out of my brain and onto a google doc. please feel free to reblog, share, leave a comment, tell me what you like, tell me what you want to see more of, I'm so excited to be writingggg also not beta'd so here we gooooo if there is a typo I'm sorry but please understand i dumped this onto the internet and didn't look back

The car you drive is a target on your back. It’s a good thing your partner in crime is such a quick shot.

You’re not even a fourth of the way to Wyoming, yet you’ve outrun and outdriven more thieves than you can count. It’s unsurprising, considering the dismal state of the world. You used to think more often about what life was like before Outbreak Day. Before New York shut down, before subway cars crashed below Canal Street and even the damn rats seemed to have greater control over their faculties than most human beings.

You couldn’t get out of the city fast enough.

It’s been twenty years, and while the memory of it all occasionally haunts you like a looming ghost, most of the time, you’re just thankful to be alive. And whether you like to admit it or not, your survival is owed to the man you think of now as your companion, your partner, your…something.

You just don’t know what he is to you, even if your impact on one another is indisputable.

You’ve hardened. Where you have grown a thicker skin, you’ve softened his, even if just by the smallest amount. You can see it in the way his eyes linger on you for a moment too long when you return from a run with a fresh cut or bruising eye. You can sense it in the way he talks to you like he’s toeing the line between wanting to respect your autonomy and independence and knowing he might tear the goddamn city apart if he were to lose you.

At least, you tell yourself that. It’s self-indulgent and flattering, because while you’ve spent years learning how to exist in this new and unsafe world, your understanding of human interaction and behavior hasn’t completely gone to shit. And Joel Miller behaves like cares about you.

“Turn here,” he says as you approach what probably used to be an intersection, but now appears to be a blurred line of a dirt path. Most paths are like that now. The only clearcut routes from any place to another are the main highways and frequently used roads, but those are so closely monitored by FEDRA that you don’t dare to cross them. No, you and your partner opt for the scenic route to Jackson, if only to spare your lives.

That is, if you aren’t taken out by clickers or thieves or gang members first.

You don’t say anything, you just keep driving, eyes locked on the path in front of you. It’s late afternoon and you must be driving west—good, you’re headed in the right direction, at least—because the setting sun glimmers along the horizon, and while you’d normally find such a sight to be one of the rare moments of beauty in this fucked up world, right now it’s downright annoying.

His eyes are locked on the road, or at least you think they are. You can’t tell because if you catch a glimpse of him in this golden sunlight, you might actually melt behind the steering wheel. So you keep your focus on the path before you while the radio plays in and out of static.

And then it happens so damn quickly. Joel yells at you to watch out! And his arm stretches out toward your side of the car, and his hand is on the steering wheel, jerking the car in a sharp motion toward the left.

You brace yourself for then inevitable crash. The muscles in your legs squeeze and freeze until you collect your breath, exhaling while your hands tighten along the steering wheel.

“What the fuck was that for!?” You demand, the shock filling your tone with more anger than you intended. Joel doesn’t say anything back. His breathing is heavy, though slowing to a more normal pace, and he scrubs a hand over his features.

You turn back and see nothing at first. But as soon as you spot the culprit through the truck’s rear view mirror, you’re stunned.

“A fucking deer?” You ask incredulously, spotting a doe picking her way through the brush. “Really, Joel?”

He’s softening.

“Could have damaged the truck,” he contests, voice considerably lower. “We’re already taking the long way to Cody Tower. I don’t need any more setbacks.”

You scoff but say nothing, replacing your foot into the accelerator and continuing your trek along the back roads.

It’s dark by the time you pull over. You’ll have to refuel first thing in the morning, though the source of said fuel is to be determined. Siphoning gas isn’t hard, but it’s tracking down another functioning automobile with an oblivious operator that’s the hard part.

You’ve started sleeping in shifts. The bench seat in the back is about as luxurious a bed as you’re going to get in the middle of the apocalypse. Somewhere along the line, you’ve managed to collect a flimsy blanket that does little by way of insulation, but at least it’s comforting.

Joel locks the doors while you settle into the back. He’s caught your eye in the rearview and you feel your stomach twist. Every night goes like this—he lets you sleep first, and you usually agree because you’re so fucking tired, but because he’s too damn polite to wake you up, you end up sleeping uninterrupted. He sneaks in sleep when you’re on the road the next day and he thinks you won’t notice.

“You know what?” You say, climbing back over the center console and into the passenger seat. He’s taken the driver’s seat in case you need to make a quick getaway overnight. “I’ll take the first watch. You sleep.”

He shakes his head. “Not gonna happen.”

“Oh, really?” You arch a brow. “Because it seems like you need it. You look like shit, Joel.”

Now it’s his turn to scoff. “Excuse me if i don’t look my greatest at the end of the damn world.”

You hadn’t said that. Even when Joel looks absolutely exhausted, he still looks good. His rugged handsomeness isn’t lost on you, and for the first time all day, you actually look at him. You take him in. Moonlight catches along the graying ends of his unkempt hair, his wrinkles along the corners of his eyes are pronounced, and you eat it up like a woman starved. If you’re blushing, you’re thankful Joel can’t tell in the darkness, placing a comfortable distance between him and your growing vulnerabilities.

You hold up your palms in friendly defeat. “All I’m saying is I’m not tired yet. If you want the first round, I won’t complain.”

He doesn’t budge, though. And neither do you. You both wind up falling asleep in your respective seats once you are positive the other isn’t looking.

–

It’s not the clicking that wakes you up, though as soon as you’re half-conscious, you hear it right away.

Your stomach lurches. Fuck. When you’d pulled over hours earlier, you hadn’t noticed any semblance of life other than the deer you nearly ran over. But now, tired and bleary-eyed, you make out the deformed, eyeless head of something that used to be human.

There’s three of them, and they’re approaching your truck fast.

“Joel,” you urge, shaking his shoulder. “You gotta wake up. Joel, baby, we have to go.” The urgency in your voice hopefully outshines the petname you go with. You blame it on nerves, on the chance that this is the moment you and your partner actually fucking die. Baby. That is a choice. With any luck, Joel’s too drowsy for it to register.

He’s up like a shot, the strained, nearly silent cry from outside the truck jolting up into consciousness.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mutters, starting the truck and slamming his foot on the accelerator. One of the clickers narrowly misses colliding into your door. There’s less than a quarter of a tank left, though if you both don’t get out of here in one piece, that really doesn’t matter.

“I need you to shoot them,” Joel says over the roaring engine. He twists and turns in an attempt to lose them, but they’re on your trail, ganging up on you with each passing step.

You don’t challenge him, but you hesitate. His pistol is in the glove box, untouched since the last time you got into a dangerous situation—probably a day or two ago; every violent clash starts to bleed and blend together with the last.

“You can do it,” he says, though his tone is more urgent than encouraging . “They’re getting close. The closer your target, the easier it is to hit. Just do it—now!”

There’s no more time to waste. The clickers are a half step behind the truck. One of them places its grimy hand on the truck, holding on for dear life, if only to take yours.

Joel shouts your name to shock any remaining fatigue from every cell of your body. You do it—you reach for the gun in the glove compartment, lower your window just enough to hang your arms out of the side of it, cock the gun, and shoot.

Three fires. Three clean shots, each of the clickers blown back onto the dirt ground. Blood splatters on the side of the truck, some speckles across your forearm. Joel audibly exhales through his nose.

He keeps driving until you run out of gas.

#joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #tlou hbo #joel miller fic #tlou fic #joel miller x reader #no y/n

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thejessyami · 3 months

Text

Voice (Maliksi x Anon/YN) PART 2

Disclaimer:

Characters: Maliksi, Makisig, Lakan and Mang Kano all belongs to @ask-emilz-de-philz.

Anon on the other hand is you! <3 so enjoy!

PART 1 : Voice (Part 1) PART 3: Voice (Part 3)

PS: I accidentally posted the draft version of this one last night because my nephew is so naughty >_>.

Maliksi leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, watching intently as Mang Kano attended to the unconscious girl lying on the bed. It had been four days since she was brought there, and she remained in a coma. Mang Kano carefully checked her IV line before skillfully inserting medication into it. Maliksi was intrigued by how this albularyo was so adept with modern medical techniques. Overcome with curiosity, he finally asked,” how did you manage to become a doctor and yet continue as an albularyo? Don't those two professions contradict each other?”

Mang Kano, momentarily taken aback by Maliksi’s question, paused and looked at him, a hint of perplexity in his gaze. "Why? Can't an albularyo become a full pledge doctor?" was his response "And what’s with the sudden interest?” he continued to probe further. Maliksi just shrugs his shoulders in response, the wheels in his mind still turning “Just curious” he admitted “Albularyos usually use nature and rituals to heal people. But you're using modern medicine to treat this girl.“

Mang Kano chuckled at his statement, as if this question had crossed his mind before or perhaps, he encountered the same questions before. “You see, Maliksi” Mang Kano began, his tone carrying a mix of warmth and wisdom. "Healing is not just about the methods we use; it's about the intention behind them.” He looked back at the girl as if a nostalgic feeling emerged from him as he continued “Whether it's through herbs, rituals, or modern medicine, the goal is always to heal. I've learned that to truly help someone, you must be willing to use all knowledge available to you.”

He glanced at Maliksi, a gentle smile gracing his face, and in response, Maliksi met his gaze, understanding passing between them without a word. Suddenly, a knock on the door shattered the silence, and a woman's voice called out, "Dr. James, your appointment is here." The door creaked open, revealing a young woman in scrubs clutching a file to her chest.

As she approached Dr. James, her eyes couldn't help but stray to Maliksi, and a blush colored her cheeks. Quickly averting her gaze, she hurried to Dr. James's side and handed him the file. "H-here's the p-patient's records," she stammered, clearly flustered by Maliksi's presence. Mang Kano, clearly understanding his staff's behavior, reached for the file and motioned for her to leave. "Alright, I'll come with you in a moment," he replied. The woman hastily exited the room making one last glance at Maliksi before leaving the two alone.

Mang Kano sighed in resignation and said, "Please do not seduce my staff. I'm already short-handed, and I can't afford to lose more."

"I didn't even do anything!" Maliksi defended, clearly irritated by the misunderstanding. “And It’s not my fault I’m oozing with attractiveness” He continued with a hint of sarcasm. Mang Kano cringed at his statement, rubbed his temples, and sighed in exasperation. “Just stay away from my staff!” With a weary expression, he walked to the door, giving Maliksi one last stern look. "And make sure they won’t know you're a Tamawo, the last thing I want is people sending rumors about my clinic about having a monster in my place" he cautioned before closing the door behind him.

“As if I have a choice!” Maliski sighed in exasperation. He had made himself look human and concealed his Tamawo features so that he could blend in with the others while he remained here to care for the girl. Maliksi was alone again with the unconscious girl in the room. He felt relieved to have some peace and quiet. The only sound was the beeping of the health monitor. Taking a closer look at the girl's face, he realized it was the first time he had really noticed her appearance. Before, he had mostly just stayed in the room, playing games and sleeping on the bed that he took from the other room without permission, only waking up when the albularyo came to check on her.

"You're quite beautiful, aren't you" he remarked softly, admiring her serene expression as she slept. Though he knew he had only helped her for his own benefit. Despite his selfish intentions, he couldn't deny the allure of her beauty. As he gazed at her, a pang of guilt flickered within him, which is unusual because having this kind of emotion for a human only applies to his kind brother. Time seemed to move slow as his repeated activities bore him, He pulled a nearby chair closer to the girl's bed, settling into it with a sigh.

Leaning back, he crosses his arms and shuts his eyes, racking his brain for a way to shake off his boredom. Suddenly, an idea sparks, brightening his expression. “Hey, want to know a story?” Maliksi asked the unconscious girl, he chuckled at his stupidity scolding himself ‘of course she won’t respond, stupid!’, shaking his head at his own foolishness.

But the idea of talking with this unconscious girl wasn’t a bad idea, He liked it actually, it’s like a one- sided conversation, a chance for him to speak his mind without the pressure of a response. So, despite the lack of interaction from her side, Maliksi found solace in sharing his thoughts with the silent figure before him.

"Well here it goes” he started off as he rested his chin on her bed as he recalls one of the mischiefs he did, “There was this one time that my Kuya promised one of his girls on a picnic, I saw how excited she was being able to go out with him. When that day came, she then proceeds to the kitchen with a giddy smile on her face and makes some sandwiches. I secretly followed her making sure I was unnoticed, when she was finished, she went out and got ready for their planned picnic, I made sure she was totally gone then I went ahead and ate all of it.”

He smiled mischievously at the memory “I handed it to her, her sandwiches were really yummy." He paused as he licked his lips as if savoring the taste again, "and when she came back, she was livid and started shouting at me. My kuya came as he heard the commotion. Before she could even explain what happened, I immediately clung to my kuya and told him I was very hungry and ate whatever food is in the kitchen”

Maliksi's eyes sparkled with the vivid recollection, a playful smirk playing on his lips as he remembered the chaos he had instigated. "You should've seen the look on her face," he continued, his voice barely containing his amusement. "She was so mad, steam could've come out of her ears. And there I was, the picture of innocence, hugging my Kuya, telling him how hungry I was."

He chuckled, shaking his head at his own audacity. "My Kuya, he's always had a soft spot for me, you know? So, he looks at me, then at her, and he's trying to piece together what happened. And I'm there, making my best impression of a starving little brother, which wasn't far from the truth, except for the part where I intentionally ate the sandwiches meant for their picnic."

Maliksi's expression softened, a hint of admiration in his gaze as he thought about his brother's peacemaking skills. "He managed to calm her down, promised her an even better date to make up for it. And me? I got off with a warning and a 'next time, ask before you eat anything meant for special occasions'” Sighing, Maliksi leaned closer to the girl, as if sharing a secret. "But here's the thing—I felt bad afterwards. Not immediately, but it hit me later. Of course I won’t tell them that!”

Time seemed to pass by as he told more stories of his past adventures, after what seemed like hours of talking, Maliksi got tired and stood up, stretching his limbs. "Well, thanks for listening, even if you didn't have much choice in the matter. It's been... therapeutic, in a way." He glanced at her one more time, a gentle expression on his face. “When you wake up, maybe you can tell me your stories, I promise I’ll listen.”

With that, Maliksi turned off the light, leaving the room bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight. Outside, the world was quiet and peaceful, Maliksi felt lighter, as if the act of sharing his story with someone, even someone who couldn't respond, had lifted a weight off his shoulders.

How many days have passed? Maliksi wondered as he stared out the window, the sun high in the sky, the corridors noisy with the comings and goings of people. A few days prior, Mang Kano had allowed him to return home whenever he wished, reassured that the girl was no longer in any danger. Maliksi was overjoyed and embraced the opportunity. Upon arriving home, he indulged in all the activities he had missed, as if he were finally free from the burden of caring for the comatose girl.

After not going to the clinic for four days, he felt kind of empty, like he was missing something. He tried to have fun, but it wasn't as good. So, he thought about it a lot and decided to go back to Mang Kano’s clinic.

There, he found himself standing beside the girl's bed, just staring at her as if it was routine. He inhaled deeply then said "Hey there, sleepyhead. How are you feeling today? “ he then grabs a nearby chair and started telling her stories like the usual. Days turned into weeks, and Maliksi kept coming back to the clinic to share tales with her.

As Maliksi's boredom set in again, he went over to the girl's bed and closed his eyes as he tried to look for a memory he could share with her. Maliksi wasn't a very talkative person, but he enjoyed talking to the girl in front of him. It was always the highlight of his day. As he chatted away, he didn't notice Mang Kano enter the room. The man stood by the door, watching Maliksi happily tell her about what had happened the other day, with the look of excitement in his face.

"And then, I saw that lady again yesterday. I thought my big brother had sent her away for good two years ago. But guess what? She was back at the mansion, hanging out with my brother's other girlfriends." He paused, putting his finger on his chin as if thinking hard. "It's not like I dislike her or anything. She's actually pretty decent. As I observed, She wasn't as needy as his other girls, she knows her boundaries and always making sure that she don't annoy me, not like the others who always pick a fight with me."

Leaning on the edge of the girl's bed, Maliksi rested his head on his hands "As long as she doesn't bother me too much, I guess I'm okay with her being around the mansion," he stated with a slight shrug. The room went silent again, he stared blankly at the health monitor watching the numbers go up and down.

Unconsciously he picked up her hand and placed it on his cheeks, his gaze now fixated at the sleeping girl in front of him “When will you wake up?” he whispered softly, his voice filled with longing and hope.

Mang Kano, who had remained quietly in the room, observed Maliksi with a mix of concern and empathy. He felt compassion for the young man expressing such raw emotion. It had been over a month since that fateful day, and there was still no sign of the girl waking up. Mang Kano sighed and was about to go over to Maliksi when the Tamawo suddenly jumped out of his chair, looking at the girl's hand in shock.

"What's the matter?" Mang Kano asked in shock. Maliksi, unaware of Mang Kano’s arrival, looked at him in bewilderment. "H-her hand... I felt her hand move!" he exclaimed. Mang Kano immediately approached the bed, pulling his penlight out of his pocket. Maliksi shifted to give him space as Mang Kano began checking the girl for any specific responses.

"Is she going to wake up soon?" Maliksi couldn’t help but ask anxiously. After Mang Kano finished examining the girl, he looked at Maliksi with a smile spreading across his face. "Yes! it looks like she’s on her way back to us” He confirmed. Maliksi smiled in relief upon hearing Mang Kano’s response.

You were unconscious, and felt like you were in a dark, silent void. You couldn't feel anything, and time seemed to stretch on forever. All you could remember was being attacked by a creature, fighting desperately to get away from it until it slashed your throat. That was the last thing you remembered before you blacked out. You wondered how many hours—or even days—had passed since then. “Am I still alive?” you asked yourself.

But then, you started to feel a little bit of awareness. It was like a faint echo of life from the outside world. “Hey, want to hear a story?” Suddenly a soft voice said as it's sound washed over you like a warm embrace. The voice told you stories of it's mischievousness. This voice was very familiar, but you can’t seem to remember who.

Though you cannot move or speak, you were captivated by his stories, listening intently, lost in the cadence of their voice. You wondered who this person beside you, sharing their stories with such warmth, though your body remained still and silent, your mind was alive with curiosity. You longed to reach out, to connect with the person beside you and to know this person's identity. But for now, all you could do was listen to their soothing voice as it tells you, their adventures.

Every day you kept on waiting for that voice, anticipating what story it would tell that day. Until one day the stories had stopped. You never heard from it again. the sense of abandonment overwhelmed you, You didn’t know what to do. You felt lost and alone. ‘Did it get tired of telling me stories?’ You thought to yourself.

The silence of the room was unbearable, your mind is conscious, but your body is not, you feel frustrated, and you just wanted to wake up. You silently prayed that that person would come back. As if God answered your prayers, you heard that voice again, The one you have been praying for, “Hey there sleepyhead. How are you feeling today?” The voice was warm and comforting, sending a jolt of recognition through your still form.

‘You’re back!’ you wanted to say but your body remained unresponsive. you felt relieved at hearing this voice again as it tells you more of it's stories. Even though you couldn't move or speak, the connection you felt with this person grew stronger with each passing moment.

Days flew by again, Maliksi stared at the girl waiting for her to wake up, every time he tells her something she moves her finger in response. He doesn’t know when it started but with each passing day, the more he stayed by her side, the more attached he was to her. Anticipating the day she opens her eyes.

And then one day, it happened. She started fluttering her eyelids, as she slowly opened her eyes, a hazy confusion danced behind them, as if the world was coming back into focus. Maliksi, overwhelmed by a mix of relief and joy couldn’t help but smile.

“Hey, you’re awake,” he exclaimed his voice a mix of excitement and disbelief. “Wait here, I’ll bring the albular—I mean the doctor!” As he tried to let go of her hand, he felt her squeezing it, as if stopping him from going away. He looked back at her and chuckled. “I’ll be right back” He re-assured as he slowly removed her hand from him.

Maliksi quickly left the room, searching for Mang Kano. As he neared the other room, he overheard a conversation. "We can't keep hiding her," he heard a voice say, recognizing it immediately as his brother Makisig's. "He found out where she is," Makisig added. A sense of dread began to fill Maliksi, making him worry about who they were discussing. Driven by his curiosity, Maliksi entered the room, surprising the two men. "Who are you talking about?" he demanded. The men exchanged a look of silent agreement before Makisig dismissively responded, "It's nothing."

Trying to shift the focus, Makisig asked, "What brings you here?" Maliksi, although curious about their conversation, remembered he had more pressing news to share. "The girl has woken up!" he announced, the earlier tension melting away with his excitement. "Mang Kano, come and see her right away!"

Mang Kano's eyes lit up with a mix of surprise and urgency at Maliksi's announcement. Without wasting another moment, he rose from his seat, grabbing everything he needed then followed the young Tamawo towards the girls room.

As they hurried through the corridors, Maliksi began to feel hopeful. The mystery of the conversation he had overheard still bothered him, but his top priority was the well-being of the girl who had miraculously opened her eyes after being in a comatose state.

Slowly, you began to regain consciousness. You opened your eyes and tried to focus, but everything was blurry. As your vision slowly adjusted, you could make out the figure of a person hovering over you.

"Hey! You're awake!" the person exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement. He took your hand in his and squeezed it tightly. "Just wait here, I'll get the doctor", he continued, releasing your hand and starting to get up.

Unconsciously you tightened your grip on his hand, not wanting him to leave. You stared up at him with your eyes still blurry from just waking up. He looked back at you in surprise, but then chuckled at your unexpected behavior.

"I'll be right back", he reassured you, gently prying your fingers from his. You reluctantly let go of him and watched as he ran off through the door.

Lying there, your gaze fixed on the ceiling, a wave of confusion and disorientation swept over you. ‘Where am I?’ This question echoed in your mind as you tried to make sense of your surroundings. An uncomfortable sensation in your neck stopped you from moving too much. Carefully, you reached up to touch the source of discomfort and found bandages there.

‘I remember now... I was attacked,’ you realized silently. The vivid memory of the assault flooded back, the brutality of the incident overwhelming you, causing tears to gather in your eyes. Overcome by a surge of emotions, you found yourself unable to hold back a cry.

As tears streamed down your face, you were crying but there was no sound accompanying it, the room was still quiet ‘My voice... it's gone’. You tried to speak, to call for someone, anyone, but no sound came out. The silence around you felt like it was closing in on you, 'suffocating.' You felt more and more scared and confused.

As the door swung open, your eyes instinctively darted towards it. Three figures stepped into the room: the first, clad in a lab coat, evidently the doctor; the second, the person who had been by your side earlier; and the third, a man of remarkable height, the tallest you've ever seen. Their expressions shifted to shock as they took in the sight of your tear-streaked face. Without hesitation, the one who had kept you company earlier rushed to your side, a look of deep concern etched on his face.

"Hey, what's wrong?" The familiar voice, filled with genuine concern, broke the silence in the room. You looked up at the person, their eyes reflecting a mixture of worry and compassion. You opened your mouth to speak, but no sound accompanied them. ‘I’ you desperately mouthed trying hard to make a sound, but it was futile, you can’t help but cry again at your helplessness.

The doctor came by your side as he tried to assess the situation. He seemed to sense your struggle and gently placed his hand on the young man's shoulder, “It seems she had lost her voice” the doctor said. The young man turned to him with a concerned look, his brows furrowing in worry. "Is there a way to help her get it back?" he asked, his voice laced with urgency.

The doctor fell silent as if trying to find the right words. "I can't say it will come back, but.." he paused "we'll need to conduct some tests and perhaps consult with a specialist. Losing one's voice can be a temporary effect, especially after a traumatic event. It's too early to say for sure, but with proper care and treatment, there's hope," he explained, his words aiming to instill a sense of optimism in the room.

“Hi, my name is Dr. James, And I am the one who attended to your injury” He said as he looked at you directly, “I know this is all confusing to you right now, but I assure you I will do everything in my power to help you.” He continued with a kind and gentle voice. He then looked back at the young man and said, “Help her sit up” The young man eagerly nodded and helped you gently sit up from your bed. “Can you also fetch me the chair” the young man nodded and urgently went to the other side to fetch the chair and positioned it near Dr James.

Unknowingly behind them, Makisig who was still standing silently near the door watched in bewilderment as he witnessed his little brother following Mang Kano’s command. This was the first time he saw his brother being bossed around by a human without any resistance. He had the urge to laugh but had to stop himself so as to not break the moment in the room.

“It's just a formality” Dr. James said, flipping a page on his clipboard and handing it to you along with a pen. “Since you can't speak right now, could you please write your name down for me? That way I can address you properly.” You nodded weakly and reached for the pen and paper. your hands were shaking, and it took you a few tries to write your name legibly. “Y/N” Dr. James said out loud. “What a beautiful name” He added with a gentle smile on his face.

“I’ll be asking some questions,” Dr. James pointed at the clipboard you are holding and gestured “You just write your answer, a brief word would suffice, you could also choose not to answer, will that be ok?” He said asking for permission. In response to his question, you wrote the word ‘Yes’

Dr. James smiled and began asking some questions. "Well done. Now, do you feel any discomfort with your body right now?" You pointed at the word "Yes" that you had written earlier. Dr. James acknowledged your response and followed up, "Could you try and point where?" Slowly lifting your hand, you indicated your bandaged neck. "Does it hurt a lot?" He continued asking, you wrote "A little".

The questioning continued for a while, with Dr. James periodically examining your body for any signs of discomfort. "Your body is still recovering, and since you were in a coma for a while, you may experience discomfort in different parts of your body," he explained. "You need rest and a bit of walking or exercise to aid in your recovery."

Dr. James hesitated, as if uneasy about asking the next question. "I know this might be hard to recall, but..." he paused as he looked at the young man then back at you, "do you remember what happened before you passed out?" Your body tensed at the question; memories of encountering the terrifying creature and the trauma it inflicted flooded your mind.

Tears welled up in your eyes once more, rolling down your cheeks uncontrollably. With a heavy heart, you pressed both palms against your face as silent sobs racked your body. Frustration built up inside you as you cried without making a sound, the weight of your emotions overwhelming your voiceless cries.

Dr. James did not probe any further, as he already knows your answer from your reaction. All he could do is press his hand on your shoulder as he waits for you to finish crying.

Maliksi, who had been silently observing the conversation, clenched his fist unknowingly. It was as if he felt sympathy for the girl, a feeling he hadn't experienced in quite some time. Looking at the window he silently voiced in his head ‘I’ll kill that jerk!’.

“You should get some rest first,” Dr. James said, breaking the silence in the room. Gently, he helped you lie back in your bed. As you were being assisted, you couldn't help but notice the young man at the edge of the bed. As your eyesight was still blurry earlier, this is the first time you saw him clearly.

His pale complexion and silver hair caught your attention, and his expression remained stoic as he gazed out of the window. Even though you could only see his side profile, you couldn't deny his handsomeness.

Dr. James caught sight of you looking at the young man. "Ah, this is..." he gestured but stopped, appearing hesitant. As if returning to reality, the young man then looked in your direction. "He’s the one... who brought you here," Dr. James continued, appearing uncomfortable with the introduction.

You stared at the young man, feeling a sense of familiarity wash over you. The young man waved his hand in front of you and said, “Hey there, my name’s Maliksi.” ‘Maliksi,’ he stopped as he saw you open your mouth and mouthed his name along with him. “D-did you just!” Maliksi stuttered as he looked at you in shock, as if you already knew who he was.

You were equally stunned by your own reaction; in that moment, your dimly recalled memories surged forward in rapid succession: the time you were attacked, the sight of the him perched atop the tree and the instance when the creature was forcefully repelled from you. You remembered the way the creature hissed Maliksi’s name before you lost consciousness.

You grabbed the clipboard and pen again and slowly wrote something: ‘On top of the tree’. Shyly, you showed them the written words. Both Maliksi and Dr. James looked at the writing. Maliksi smiled as he read the words. "So you remember me!" he exclaimed excitedly.

Dr. James looked back and forth between you and Maliksi, observing the interaction with curiosity. “If you remember him then that means you also know that he’s a Tamawo” Dr James asked. The girl looked at him in curiosity then wrote “Tamawo?”

The doctor and Maliksi exchanged a glance as they read what you wrote, then awkwardly looked away. Dr. James rubbed his temples, realizing he had made a mistake. He sighed heavily, seemingly reluctant to explain. "It's like this," he began, scratching his cheek as if searching for the right words. "The creature that attacked you... was a Tamawo."

Makisig sensed the presence of another creature lurking nearby. With caution, he slipped out of the room, ensuring that the people inside remained unaware of his departure. As he stepped foot outside, he said “Come out, I know you’re here”. A figure emerged from the shadows, striding proudly with a malicious grin on his face. His silver hair flowing with the wind.

“My, my if it isn’t the hybrid” the man said maliciously. Makisig remained silent, unfaced by his remark. “I warn you Lakan, stay away from them” Makisig warned. Lakan chuckled, amused by his warning. “You can’t stop me; I will take that woman and this time I’ll make sure to rip her apart.” Lakan then grinned widely “And I’ll make sure to get back at your pest of a brother for what he had done”

Makisig's face turned dark, his eyes piercing through Lakan as he thought of ways of tearing him apart. “If you touch my brother, I promise you I won’t be merciful”. Lakan laughed again, he looked at Makisig staring at him with the same killing intent. “I look forward to that.” and with that he turned and walked away.

Makisig watched him go, when he was gone, he sighed releasing the tension from his body. Time is of the essence now; He must come up with a plan to make sure that his brother and the girl were unharmed. He looked up at the window on the second floor, his mind racing as he contemplated his next move. “I better act fast”.

Author's note:

-Malapit na tayo sa exciting part! CHAR!

-I remember @ask-emilz-de-philz posted Mang Kano's real name and to my surprise it's the same name as my brother. XDDD the irony was he's also in the medical field XDDD Ehem!.

-Maliksi being bossed around by a human was rare VERY RARE! UwU. Forgive me HC for making that part, I just had to do it //Smirks

-Next Chapter will be the last part.

#makisigthetamawo #philmytcrea #planet puto #rp makisig #rp tamawo #maliksithetamawo #rp maliksi #rp mangkano #rp lakan

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enassbraid · 1 year

Note

what if. kanade/rui x reader who is desperately begging them to take a damn break for once

-> 𝐂𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐂𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐇𝐚𝐳𝐞

They can’t help but keep pushing themselves, it’s in their nature. However, maybe this once they’ll take a break…

CW) overworking, mentions of poor eating habits, kanade’s bad habits

With Kanade Yoisaki & Rui Kamishiro

Rui Kamishiro

Rui is always on the move, whether it be performing, directing, education, he is always on the go. From an outside perspective it looks utterly exhausting. But Rui is used to this routine, it’s not exhausting to him at all. Although, it may be too much to take at once sometimes…

He won’t say it out loud, he’s too ashamed to admit it. But right now, Rui is exhausted. He’s been coming up with blueprints for hours on end right after school, only taking a “break” to meet up with his troupe at Phoenix Wonderland, coming back and working himself to the bone again. He’s drained and tired, and still refuses to take time for himself.

But as his partner, you knew what was going on. Even if he never said it, it was painfully obvious to you. The dark circles under his eyes getting darker, moving more sluggishly, always yawning… he needed a break. If he wasn’t gonna take one himself, then you were gonna make him.

The walk home from school was quiet, but not awkward. You were silently observing his face, even while he’s exhausted, he’s still the most beautiful boy you’ve ever seen.

“Is this something the matter, (Name)?”

“No, nothing’s wrong! I’m just a bit worried. You look tired. Actually- you’ve looked exhausted all week, and you’ve been acting different so-“

He cut you off with a soft chuckle, “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing my love, I’m just surprised you noticed. But I’m fine.”

“Rui, you know you aren’t fine. And when we get to your place I’m not letting you sit at your work station. You’re going to relax today.”

Rui knows there’s no point in arguing with you, he always caves in the end because he can’t stand being against you. And besides, he knows he needs to rest as well. And the best way to relax is having you with him.

The moment he opened the door you threw your bag on the floor, flopping onto his bed. Rui followed suit, all the pent up tiredness crashing down on him the second he hit the bed. He felt his eyelids grow heavier and the world go a bit quieter around him, only focusing on your resting figure next to him.

“(Name).. come here, so tired..”

He can barley form a sentence, and you knew you finally got him to rest. You switched into a more comfortable position and laid closer besides him, wrapping his arms around you.

“See? Taking a break isn’t all that bad..”

Kanade Yoisaki

Kanade is known for her unhealthy work habits, or just her habits in general. Never going outside, living off cup noodles, always at her monitor screen. It’s worrying to anybody, especially you.

You’ve tried pulling her away from her screen for a moment so she could relax a bit, but she always goes back not even an hour later. Honami has tried helping on multiple occasions, but Kanade will always be Kanade.

You watched as Kanade played with different tunes and pitches, finding what was best for the new song she was composing. She looked tired and bored, going at this for hours now. You knew at this point she wanted a break, but wouldn’t give herself one.

An idea popped into your mind, surely it would work. You got up out of Kanade’s bed and made your way to the kitchen, telling your girlfriend you would be right back.

“Honami, can you help me make three cup noodles?”

“Of course I can, but why three? One for you and Kanade, but a third?”

“I wanna make her a bigger serving, you know she loves cup noodles, if we make two and put them together, it’d be a treat for her. And.. yeah, third is for me.”

Honami smiled and nodded, giving you a hand in preparing the noodles. She thought it was sweet of you to do something like this for Kanade, considering she barley leaves her room for anything and forgets to eat a lot.

Once the noodles were done you thanked Honami and went back to your girlfriend’s room, preparing yourself to get her off that monitor.

“Kanade, I brought you something.”

She looked up, her eyes lighting up when she saw the noodles in your hand, smiling slightly when she saw how much was in the cup.

“(Name), you didn’t have to..”

“I did. I need you to take a break, Kanade. You’ve barley eaten today and you need some rest. Can you do that, please?”

Usually, she would be stubborn, telling you to leave her noodles on the table and she’ll eat it in a minute. But this time, she actually got up. Taking the cup noodles from your hand and sitting on the floor where her table was, you followed suit.

“There’s so much.. and it’s good. Thank you, (Name)..”

“Anytime Kanade, I do love you after all. Just please, try taking these breaks more often. I’m worried for you.”

She smiled and leaned into your side, you couldn’t tell if she fell asleep or not. But if she did, you didn’t wanna wake her.

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justkending · 1 year

Text

Finding Memories. Chapter 1.

Summary: Waking up with little to no memory of her past, and being saved by a group of individuals who call themselves heroes, sends a long time captive for a whirlwind trying to find some form of grounding in this world she quickly learns runs on chaos. But she’s not the only one trying to figure out her forgotten backstory. Bucky Barnes, along with the other Avengers, can’t help but sense that there is a lot more to the whole situation than a diagnosis of amnesia. Her background slowly starts to come forward in pieces of her past and hidden information discovered. Who is she? And why was she in the room they were meant to destroy?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2400+

TW: Torture, cussing, and blood.

A/N: Ok! First off, Merry Christmas and Happy Holiday's lovlies! I'm so excited to share this new series with and also very excited to see what comes of it:) I hope you all are safe, warm, and having some sort of fun during this time of the year. Whether that be by yourself or with friends and family, all ways are just fine and dandy! Anyway, here is my Christmas gift to you! I plan on posting a chapter every other day so I can give myself some time to write in between! Love love love you all! xoxoxo

Chapter 1:

Bucky asked one of the assistants to bring a change of clothes for their Jane Doe.

So far, they did a few more checkups on her, making sure she was ok to be released within the next hour, and Bucky stayed close by.

He seemed to be the only one she had a sense of ease around, as he was the only familiar face in her new environment. They didn't have much outside of that keeping her from completely freaking out.

Though, she seemed more relaxed now that she had been taken care of properly and wasn't in immediate danger like she was used to.

"Thanks, Stark," he replied through the phone before hitting the end and turning back to the girl. "You have a place to stay here if you want," he smiled softly as she fidgeted with the plastic medical bracelet that hung loose on her wrist.

She nodded in response and continued to monitor her surroundings while anxiously picking at the laminated name, Jane Doe, they had put on her.

"Natasha, one of my teammates who helped us find you on that mission; said she's happy to help you get anything you need. We have an extra room down the hall from her and she's already got you set up with all the necessities you'll need until we get you back on your feet," he explained as he watched her zone in on the beeping coming from the monitor still hooked up to her blood pressure. "If you need anything outside of that, just let me know and I'll see what I can do."

She never gave any indication that she acknowledged him this time, but he knew that look on her face. The reality of the situation was setting in and it was harsh drowning waves of flashbacks.

She didn't know her name. She didn't really know where she was. Who knew how long she was at that torturous facility? And they knew nothing besides the little bits of intel they had recovered from the database which they were still trying to hack.

Sometimes you just have to shut down fully to even start to comprehend a piece of it.

"I know this is a lot," he started really soft and carefully as he crouched in front of her making himself smaller to her. "It's a long process of piecing things back together and coming to terms with all that happened and how. But from experience, I can promise you there is a way out of that dark tunnel that feels like it's closing in on you."

She looked at him, eyes still harboring a sense of anxiety, but more so horror at the memories she knew would resurface now that she had to process them.

And she had to process them. That was the only way she knew she could move on from this situation and figure out what the hell happened to her.

Breaking her eye contact from him, she adjusted on the edge of the hospital bed and straightened the hand-me-down sweatshirt she was given for the time being.

"How much longer do I have to stay here?" she asked. Her voice was still raspy, but with time and lots of hydration, she was slowly regaining it.

Bucky was happy she wasn't completely mute. She had a strength in her that he knew would pull through with time. It was all a matter of how much time though.

"Alma said within the next hour if you're still ok, we can go ahead and get you moved. They want to make sure you aren't going to have a reaction to any of the antibiotics they gave you," he replied.

For some reason, she wanted to laugh at that thought. Antibiotics would be water compared to the things she had injected into her in the past. There were going to be no side effects and she knew that.

At that moment, her stomach reminded the two that she hadn't had solid food for the whole time she was there. Who knows how long it had been before then too?

"How about I talk to Alma about an early check out and then we get you something to eat?" he asked, smirking as she self-consciously placed her hand on her stomach. "What's something you like?"

He was hoping the simple question would spark something, but if anything it caused her to give a confused look. Then it slowly saddened as she realized she didn't know what she liked.

"How about I pick a favorite of mine and we see how you feel?" he asked, standing up and placing his hands on his hips.

"Ok," she nodded.

"Ok," he confirmed. "I'm going to go talk to Alma and we'll go from there."

__________________

Figuring it was best to not go out in public just yet, he made do with the ingredients that Stark thankfully kept stocked in the shared Avenger's kitchen.

He showed her where her room was for the time being and introduced her to Nat who helped her get situated and accustomed to the new place.

After a quick shower and a fresh pair of clothes that weren't scrub pants and a sweatshirt some agent had taken from lost and found, she looked like a new person.

The circles under her eyes were still dark and semi-sunken from malnourishment that would take more than just a few days of saline and antibiotics to heal. However, the Y/E/C color in her eyes was shining differently given the newfound security she was being introduced to. Her face no longer held marks of dirt and residue from the explosion and he could see her complexion with more details.

Her Y/H/C hair was washed and he noticed a hint of waves to it as it dried, now that it had been properly cleaned and taken care of.

She came and sat at the island bar, reserved and keeping a high sense of awareness of her unfamiliar and new environment. So far it had proved to be safe, but she never had known a time when she didn't have to watch her back constantly.

"Not sure how you feel about pancakes for dinner, but I know it's a go-to comfort food for me and a few other people I know," he commented, setting a plate of the hot breakfast food in front of her.

He had brought out all the works not knowing what she liked and didn't.

Fresh-cut fruit was in one bowl, nuts and granola in another, chocolate chips and chocolate syrup placed on the other side, and of course butter and syrup ready to be picked if wanted.

"I'm not sure if you eat meat, but I can make some bacon or sausage," he offered as he watched her eyes take in the buffet of toppings. "Or eggs..." he added, not sure what she was thinking.

"What do you usually do?" she asked, looking up at him.

He hadn't expected that question, but he looked at the toppings and thought about it.

"I guess a good amount of butter and some syrup is a classic," he leaned against the other side of the island. "I eat a little more than the average person, so I usually add a protein in there somewhere."

"I'll do that then," she replied. "I'm really not sure what I like." She mumbled the last part, and Bucky could hear a hint of frustration in it.

Maybe the excess amount of choices wasn't the best idea, but he had hoped to spark a memory from it.

"Well, consider it a fresh start. Now you have the freedom to experience things and see for yourself what you like and dislike," he said with hope in his tone.

For the first time, he saw a glimpse of a smile turn at the corner of her mouth. It was a nice look on her.

The two sat and ate breakfast for dinner and he coaxed her to try a little bit of it all just to see what she thought.

She realized she liked chocolate. Quickly after learning that, she had added an excessive amount of chocolate syrup to the remainder of her pancakes and began adding different fruits to them as well. Chocolate and strawberries became her favorite combination, though who could blame her?

He chuckled as she discovered her sweet tooth and knew from personal experience just how euphoric such a simple choice can make someone who has been controlled all their known life feel.

Then slowly she became more relaxed and started asking Bucky questions.

"I heard someone call you Sergeant," she noted, swirling a strawberry that was on her fork through the leftover chocolate on her plate. "Are you in the army?"

"I was," he answered, wadding up his napkin and throwing it on his empty plate. "Not anymore, technically."

"Technically?"

"I'm a part of a smaller group now. But saving people and going on missions to take down some really shitty people is still part of the job," he nodded.

"Does your group have a name?" she asked.

"Hmm mmm," he hummed, turning his body back to her. "The Avengers."

He paused wondering if that name would ring any bells. But her face was blank as if the infamous name had never once crossed her path.

She hummed to herself and placed her dirty silverware on top of the cleaned-off plate.

"Who are you all Avenging?" she asked.

"Depends on the day," he chuckled at the wording of her question. "Here. I'll take those," he reached over, taking the plates and stacking them before moving to do the dishes.

"Thank you for that," she nodded appreciatively at his actions. "Thank you for everything really. I-I don't know what would have happened to me if you all weren't there to..." She didn't finish her thought.

He could tell the topic of that day was a sensitive one, but he was happy that he could be a decent memory in a fucked up situation.

"It's what we do," he replied.

She looked up and that small little smile was back for a fleeting second before she was hit with the trauma that came with the memory.

"Listen, I'd like to call you something else besides Jane Doe. Any chance there's a name you remember that you think could be yours?" he asked, trying to redirect her thought process.

"Right," she said softly, her eyebrows furrowing as she thought hard about it. He could see the recall working through her eyes as she tried to pull it from memories she had most likely tried to erase. "I'm not sure," she finally said, somewhat defeated.

"That's ok. How about you sleep on it and hopefully it'll come back to you. If not, it's just another thing you get to choose," he smirked.

She nodded before a yawn came over her. Her eyes drooped at the motion as her body begged for rest.

"We should call it a night. You've had a long enough day and I think it would be good for your body to get a well-deserved break." He put the last dish away and moved around the corner. "I'll walk you back to your room. This place can be a maze the first couple days here."

She yawned again and turned in the stool and hopped off to the ground in a quiet and careful manner. She was quite a bit shorter than him and it was the first time he noticed. Every time before, she had been in bed or slouched into his side running away from an explosion.

"Um," she hesitated, pausing just steps outside her door. He stopped in his step ahead of her and turned to her. "What do I do if I need help or someone to-," she stopped and he knew where she was going with it.

Someone to protect her.

"Do you want me to show you where my room is in case you need to find me?" he asked, and she looked past his shoulder down the long corridor of random doors. Then she nodded. "See that door on the other side of the hall?" He pointed directly to the other side just two doors down from her. "My door is unlocked most of the time and I'll be in there. Feel free to knock if you need anything."

His look was comforting to her as it held a promise that he would be at her beck and call until they found out more information.

She nodded once again in affirmation and turned to the knob and twisted it open to her room.

Bucky walked to his room but stopped just outside waiting for her to completely disappear behind the door before carrying on with his night.

As she began to shut the door, he turned into his but was stopped at the sound of his name.

"Bucky," she said as a statement. He turned his attention to her. "Thank you. I know I've said it already, but I really do respect all that you've done for me this far."

"It's part of my job," he replied and a part of him wanted to punch himself in the face right there.

A look of surprise passed over her expression as she began deducting that this was just a job to him. Though it had started that way, Bucky had found a form of sentiment to this girl and her background.

It was still part of his job, but he quickly learned that he was a little more attached to this whole case than he planned to be. It was too close to home for him to just be another job. He knew the pain, the trauma, and the sense of constantly having to learn trust with each passing day.

You can't fully do that with someone who sees you as a job.

By the time he had processed how his comment would have come off to her, she was already behind the door giving a quick nod and disappearing.

He shut his eyes in frustration and annoyance at himself. One step forward, two steps back.

He'd find a way to make it up to her and show her this was more personal to him than he was leading it on to be. That kind of connection is the first step in building trust and helping someone like her get out of the hole she's known for too long.

He debated on going and knocking on the door and explaining that second, but he needed rest and so did she. They weren't going to make any progress on exhaustion and weak bodies.

If you would like to be tagged in this upcoming series, please comment on this chapter! Thank you:)

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raven-6-10 · 6 months

Text

As promised, tagging @hamelin-born and @ertrunkenerwassergeist

So, when thinking about writing Regis, especially during the last years of his reign I try to keep one thing in mind:

Regis is, at his core, somebody who has given up.

Yeah, I know, how could I say something so controversial.

Well, let's not keep you in the dark.

Prince Regis and his support circle

(Or rather, the lack of thereof.)

We know very, very little about Regis' childhood so I have to extrapolate based on what canon info we have about Noctis.

And none of this is promising. Because it looks like for most of his childhood, his friends consisted of Clarus and Weskham. There is the one mention of knowing Aulea back then, but not much detail of how they met or how their relationship looked like. While he presumably met other noble children, there would always be that undercurrent of politics to any interactions, which isn't exactly conductive to healthy relationships. Not with the chasm between their respective social ranks.

(It exists even in his interactions with his Retinue, too, for all that they manage to forget it most of the time)

Then comes the Road Trip, with Cor dragged along and Cid who joins to keep eye on those goddamn rich city kids. Honestly, that might be the happiest time in Regis' life. He has minimal responsibilities, he's not under constant scrutiny from everyone and he has people who genuinely like him for him around himself. Life looks good, even with the war on the horizon.

And then comes Accordo and Altissia, and the failed treaty negotiations.

And then Weskham leaves.

A lot of people headcanon that Wesk stayed in Accordo to funnel information to Insomnia and act as a Lucian representative to Accordo's government. Whether that's true or not, the fact is that he was unlikely to consistently keep in touch with Regis. Not with how closely all communication channels would be monitored as the war heated up. By necessity, their friendship becomes a distant one at best.

So that's one of Regis' people gone from his life. Cid is the second one to leave him, this time entirely of his own choice.

While there are no actual specifics, the timing makes it clear that Cid was not happy with Mors pulling back the Wall and the Royal Family's policy on the refugees thereafter. Which is a polite way of saying "they left people to fend for themselves". What we don't know is how Regis reacted to it. Did he think his father had to have good reasons? Did he disagreed with him but couldn't think of anything he could do to improve things? Did he agree with Mors wholeheartedly? Either way, Cid storms out of the Citadel and Insomnia, eventually settles down in Hammerhead and, as far as we know, does not see Regis ever again.

(And there is that one hint from Cor how Cid was still angry that Regis kept secrets and refused to confide in his friends. But that's for later.)

Post-coronation and his marriage

(Or, his social circle still isn't great)

So here they are in the year 729 of Modern Era, with one friend on the other side of the world and another currently very pissed off at them, when Mors dies and leaves Regis running Lucis.

Regis is all of 23.

I don't know about you but I wouldn't leave a 23-years-old charge of a local retail shop. Nevermind the entire fucking country. Unfortunately, Regis does not have the luxury of leaving the job to somebody else, so he puts on his big boy boots and the fancy crown, and gets to work.

And there's a lot of work.

We have next to nothing about Mors and his reign, but what we do have points to a person more interested in the results than the means used to achieve them, which is never good attitude in somebody who has absolute authority over other people. It's bound to piss off people in all social strata and create some short-term "solutions" in exchange for a lot of long-term problems. I suspect Regis spent a lot of his early years as a king placating nobles and unfucking his father's various messes with Clarus and Cor's help.

Not that Cor would have been much of a help, being freshly 18 himself - ageism is very firmly alive in politics, even fictional ones - and still a reckless little shit at his heart. For Regis, Cor is firmly a little brother figure - somebody to guide and teach and protect, and to entrust important missions to once he's a little older, but not somebody Regis can rely on to support him.

(Regis never loses this mindset. Not even after Cor has been his Marshall for years. In the end, Cor is never told about the real prophecy, is sent away before the Invasion begins.)

With Clarus busy with work and Cor not suitable, Regis would have to look to somebody else for emotional support. Enter Aulea. Around this time, their relationship shifts from friends to actual courtship and then to a marriage in 732 ME. Finally, Regis has someone who isn't his subordinate and doesn't need to be kept at arms length, who is actually his equal, who he can confide in and rely on, and be happy with. His best friend's also gotten married recently and had a little boy. Life is looking great!

And then Noctis is born and Aulea dies.

(There's a lot of IRL research about how men rely almost entirely on their wives for emotional support, and how badly they cope once it's gone.)

Noctis as the Chosen One

And then we come to this cluster fuck of a prophecy.

Because Regis learns his son is going to die.

Because there's nothing he can do to change it.

Because how do you defy a god?

(You don't. Not on your own)

But there's more!

Not only is his son going to die very painfully, first the world has to be plunged into complete darkness for who knows how long. Demons will run everywhere and people will struggle to survive. In the end, Eos will be devastated and Lucis is not guaranteed to survive.

That's bound to influence his decisions, and not always consciously.

Like, we know Noctis had an unprecedented amount of freedom for a Crown Prince, going to a normal high school, having commoner friend and living outside of the Citadel. Going by his complete unfamiliarity with life outside of Insomnia (he didn't know what a gil was) and not recognising Ardyn (a high ranking member of foreign court), I would say he also didn't receive much of a training that would be expected of a prince.

(It's not like he's going to rule anything, ever)

Then there's how that knowledge would affect Regis and his policies.

Oh, I don't think he actually realised that but. Why would he try to improve anything if it's all going to be destroyed anyway? Why bother to fix the system, it's not like it's broken, it works correctly?

(It's not working correctly. It's very much broken and rotting under his feet. He just can't see that from his place at the top.)

What does it have to do with Galahdians?

Freaking everything.

Starting with Mors' shitty refugee policies that likely never were repelled in full, through the fact that Regis likely had to make a lot of concessions to nobles to secure his reign, to his negligence of and ignorance about the issues arising among the lowest classes.

After all, corrupt officials will not suddenly decide to stop on their own. They can and will only get worse, because they feel more and more untouchable with every stolen yen and every bribe taken.

And resentment builds up.

#ffxv #regis lucis caelum #meta #headcanon #tldr regis needs therapy and to ACTUALLY TALK TO HIS FRIENDS

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