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charmedreincarnation · 5 months

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Hey guysss! A lot of people have been asking for me to make a challenge for a while now. I honestly didn’t want to, not because I’m against them or anything but because the law will be different for everyone. Sometimes, it feels like tumblr needs a reminder - you are the only person who knows what you need to do to succeed. I wish I could imprint this realization on everyone's minds. I’ve also gotten so manyyyy asks about things that genuinely just feel like your doubts repeating in your mind constantly so I’m gonna talk abt my beliefs bc y’all are spiraling really hard. I get it you want your desires for Christmas and new years. It’s okay take a breath, you're alive and will be okay.

Firstly: at the beginning I used to spend countless time spiraling into depression, constantly changing my methods every time I saw a new success story, and every time I found a new foolproof' tumblr method. Methods that were supposed to guarantee results in a day so when they didn’t I felt rlly useless. It was annoying, to say the least, and I don’t want to help others do the same thing, but really all I can do is reiterate what I always say and hope you apply it to everything!!

A lot of you guys wanted something that didn’t involve the void state, so that’s what this will revolve around! But feel free to make this void orientated if you desire, and I’ll also add a void section so all my babies can eat!

Ok so you’ve over consumed, you have dropped the void, and now have switched to just assuming and knowing that you would wake up with your dream life - embracing states. Great! At first, it will seem like you're doing nothing but you aren’t! For example, I knew I was dwelling in the state of wish fulfilled when I went to work without shedding tears, when I looked in the mirror and didn't think I was ugly because, well, I'm beautiful! I didn't care abt not performing well on a test because I could revise my past etc. this isn’t to say ignore the 3D: don’t do that, please try and make sure you’re safe and okay. But know life is malleable. Slowly, things that used to bother me—my parents, grades, anxiety, self-deprivation—started to fade away. Even though my dream life hadn't reflected in my 3D yet, I felt the switch. That's when I decided, I know what to do.

I also remember finding this cute website a long time ago that I want to share that summarizes it in such a great and simple way.

So Before I knew or understood what LOA was, I found this gem of an article on I am Love'- "How To Shift Into A State & Stay There". I think I have a post abt it somewhere on my blog but I’m too lazy to find it so here it is again.

Basically it explains that the essence of shifting into a desired state and staying there. What resonated with me was her choice to dwell in the state of knowing that her desires are hers, no matter what.

The way she used colloquial language made the content relatable and easy to understand. It's like having a conversation with a friend who's guiding you through hard concepts with “dumbed down” language because at the beginning states made 0 sense to me.

Posts like this really helped me particularly because when I discovered Neville, it required three attempts on my part to not only intellectually grasp his teachings, but also to truly comprehend him as a whole, given his non-contemporary speaking tbh.

I recommend it if you find yourself stuck or not really grasping the law yet (which is more than okay) but, if you're looking to understand the loa better or just learn more give this article a read.

There’s also a particular quote from Neville that really got me to dive into his work after finding this article and it was- “The being that you really are, descended to the weakness of the flesh, causing you to experience the state you are now in. Contemplate another state, and the same being who brought your present form into being will restore and make alive the other state, the state desired. This he will continue to do until his purpose is fulfilled. That purpose is to follow a certain pattern back into the unity of being. You see, in the beginning we were drafted. We did not volunteer to fall into these states. We were made subject into futility, not willingly but by the will of him who sent us. But when we return we will discover that we are the very being who subjected us. We are now the sons, destined to return as God the Father!”

Now that you understand and are ready to apply state, Here’s a routine I’ve created to hopefully help you guys! It is very simple and not time consuming at all.

Scripting and writing: I love writing and feeling like the author of my own story, literally bringing my creation to life. I would write when I felt like it. Whenever I wanted to dwell in my state, I would simply write, "I have my dream life." It's so simple, yet it embodies everything I need. If you’re more of a picture girl, use Pinterest instead. Or both if you prefer it doesn’t matter.

Edward arts' "I am creator meditation": Again, do this whenever you like it. It's one of the few meditations that didn't bore me to death and seemed to work with my ADHD. I also love reading, so I would read his pdf whenever I felt like it and take mental notes. Reading his work was a reminder I was doing everything right, it resonated with me very well.

During doubt and overstimulation: When things get overwhelming, close your eyes and let the emotions pass. They’re just thoughts! repeat the words "I am" until your heart returns to its normal rhythm. It's a simple yet powerful way to ground yourself amidst the whirlwind of emotions. And guess what? You can use this technique for doubt too! So the next time you're feeling overwhelmed, remember the power of "I am". It's a gentle reminder of your existence, your resilience, and your capability to be whatever you want despairs any emotional turmoil.

Thank god: (yourself!!) When reminded of your desires. Thank you god. When you see your desires, (eg:Pinterest, online or you’re just reminded) thank you god! When you see an image of your desires, thank you god! When you dream or think about your desires. Thank god! Always thank the person fulfilling it aka you ;)! If you’re religious just thank the god you actually follow.

Nightly reflections: At night, ask yourself , "What would I do if I woke up in my dream life right now?" repeat this question throughout the night. Then, imagine whatever scene you want. What would you do if you could not fail? What would you do if you had all the money in the world right now. What if you looked in the mirror and saw the most ethereal being and it’s just you? What about if you woke up in your dream house with your dream family and pets? This is inspired by one of the first shifting methods I created that helped me fulfill my imagination before I knew what that meant. When you’re ready to sleep just remind yourself it is done, and drift off into your desires.

As I've always said, I've been a great daydreamer. I knew exactly what I wanted my life to look and feel like. I envisioned my walk-in closet filled with luxurious outfits, waking up in my dream room on a soft mattress with my pets purring nearby. I saw the decor reflecting my personality in every corner of my large, and pretty room. I imagined walking into my bathroom, seeing all my cool Sephora products lined up for my skincare and shower routine. I love taking care of myself because I know I deserve it. I saw myself looking in the mirror, knowing I'm "that girl" who turns heads wherever she goes.I visualized going downstairs in my boujee dream house,and seeing my family stress-free, smiling, and eating well. I saw plans being made on my phone, my friends were excited to see and talk to me. I went to my kitchen, filled with expensive ingredients ready for me to cook meals for my loved ones - because I love cooking. I saw myself checking my bank account and seeing multiple seven figures in my savings, checking, and investment accounts and opportunities easily presenting myself to make more if I wanted. I saw myself running errands in my car, shopping, getting Starbucks, having expensive lunch with friends, and making a trip to Target. Despite the simplicity of the day, I would come home and be like, "Ugh, what a long day!"like that one khloe kardashian meme. What if all this happened today? Visualize and feel the scenes so clearly that it felt like it's already happening.. not just in your imagination.

Most importantly: Define the law for you! Stop parroting bloggers and intertwine your own beliefs with the law. The only principle of the law is that through persistence assumption will harden into a fact. Other than that anything goes except for facts that are wrong.

Here’s old notes I found in my phone lol just so you know what I mean by define the law for you: ignore the writing I was kinda dumb and new to the law 😭😭

Now this is for my void babies if you made it this far.

Read this post.

This is it copied bc the links are wonky sometimes

“My previous method is based on the persistent assumption, which a lot of people don’t know how to do right and it might take some time even for those who have the right self-concept and the mindset, so today I was in the process of manifesting this method.

And I was successful!

This method is for everyone. It’s the easiest Void method.

Do you know that you get into the Void state at night automatically? At that time the whole perceived world disappears for you. Every single perception and assumption you have disappears while your consciousness in the calm and natural Void state.

Use it to your advantage. Now that you know about the Void that you enter when you sleep, the perfect state to manifest anything that you wish to perceive, with no “resistance”, no illusions of annoying solid things around, you only need to remember your scripted starting point in your DR and practice watching it all coming out of the Void.

Practice that scene with your eyes closed, say to yourself:”That is what I perceive. Next time I’m in the Void, I’ll experience this”. You won’t even need to be fully aware of yourself that way when you get into the Void while you are asleep. Your subconscious would do all the work as it now would have the instruction and a clear image of you expecting it.

Personal experience: as I was receiving information on this method, I almost stepped into my DR! I wasn’t even in the absolute void state, I was only creating the scene for this method and I felt it materialise with my senses!

I have great feeling that it’s going to give fast results for others! Try it, teach your subconscious what it needs to bring forth while in the Void, let it do your work for you!”

Lastly, I’m gonna talk abt my beliefs real quick bc the fear of shifting vs manifesting makes me sad for y’all. I understand you don’t wanna leave behind the people you love and that’s not fear to feel ashamed of having! I personally hate the npc mindset a lot of have people have adopted. The only thing we know for sure is that assumptions create realities, and consciousness is the real reality. Everything else boils down to assumptions, except for principles. For example, shifting is not lucid dreaming, even if you assume it to be. That is the principle. I’m just going to copy what I told my mutal bc I’m lazy and need to finish Christmas stuff 😭😭 but Our imagination and the 4D realm are products of our consciousness, which is indeed real. Our view of reality is shaped by our consciousness, since we can't experience everything all at once.

Unless, of course, you shift into a super omnipotent god. Even then, you’d probably still struggle with the concept of infinity because, well, infinity is infinite. And it’s constantly a never exnding expansion. As humans, we're finite beings, and our understanding of the infinite is naturally limited. Because you can’t and won’t ever experience everything at once, infinity is always expanding. Our awareness can be thought of as fragments of consciousness; it's like being a drop of water in a massive ocean. Even though our perception is limited, the infinite is always there, always existing. We simply adjust our awareness to perceive this infinite reality.

And through our consciousness, we are able to tap into other realities or 'multiverses', which give us a broader understanding of existence. This exploration of consciousness and the multiverse is a significant part of my journey into the world of manifestation.

The law of consciousness explains why, when you "shift" or change your perspective, you don't physically move. It's all about altering your state of awareness. This is also why time doesn't really matter in the grand scheme of things. You can become aware of any time or day you want, as long as you choose to be aware of it. It's like having a mental time machine. This law is why infinite universes exist. As long as you can be aware of it, you can assume and embody the state of that person. Whether that's someone with a billion dollars on Earth, or a person who lives in the Attack on Titan world, it's all about your awareness.Our awareness is just a fragment of the larger consciousness – hence the idea of the multiverse. Each universe is a different fragment, a different state of awareness. And we have the power to “shift” into any of these states, therefore shifting into any of these universes.

I’m telling you this bc there’s no need to be afraid of manifesting or being in a reality with robotic versions of the people you love. Ariana grande and Marilyn Monroe for example talk about loa without acknowledging it and we see their success. Neville Goddard and his followers saw each other’s manifestions and I manifest for my friends and they mnaifest for me.

Take a deep breath and let go of the tik tok clone mindsets y’all have they don’t exist. You can manifest and assume anything you want in your imagination. Y’all literally want to manifest things like millions of dollars, revising deaths, living in new countries, having immorality in your waiting rooms, and never aging which is all possible of course. So be for real, why assume and know that you can achieve all that, but it won't manifest exactly how you want? I've also wondered about what happens to the "old version" of people when they manifest their dream life. As far as I'm concerned, they dont exist because you choose not to be aware of them.

I really want to talk about this too, as I've received similar questions and, oh my god, I thought I was alone. I've always been a bit delusional and lived in my head, but when I became conscious of the law, did anyone else feel a sense of self-embarrassment? I don't know what that was, but I'd genuinely feel my soul wanting to throw up envisioning my desires that aren't mine, even though I've always been a daydreamer. It's kind of like when you feel you can't have them or it's strange to envision yourself with something you can't have, so you just purge yourself. 😭

I was thinking back to why that happened and laughing at myself because we need to be serious right now. Why are you getting sick by your own mind? Imagine if Van Gogh, anytime he pulled out a canvas and held a brush, was jump-scared by the brush. Picture him holding out the brush and just staring at the canvas crying because "well, the painting is going to suck 😐," "I don't know what to paint☹️☹️," "I already know it won't be like what I envision in my head 😡😡." Like, bro, the canvas is blank, just fucking paint. That’s why I really like his quote that's like...

“If you hear a voice within you say you cannot paint, then by all means paint and that voice will be silenced.” So If you’re scared of failing, if you’re scared of your desires, or scared of how it will come to fruition, for that reason alone is more so to and manifest it anyways.

But happy holidays guys! make some tea, scroll through Pinterest, read a good book and watch some Christmas films and remember if you can imagine/think your desires you can embody them bc where are you getting it from??

Here are some helpful documents I have read plus a cute vid I saw on insta reels : (let me know if the links are being weird)

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#law of assumption #manifesation #manifesting #void state #my asks

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aliasrocket · 11 months

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I wanted to say something for an anonymous comment about feeling less embarrassed of having feelings for Rocket. I must say I totally understand that.

A month ago, when GOTG VOL 3 was released, I went to see it at the cinema with my mother, I spent the whole movie very excited for Rocket, but right in that scene where he is on the verge of death and he meets Lylla again, SOMETHING INSIDE IT CHANGED ABOUT ME, because when they were hugging I realized I was JEALOUS, and in my mind I thought "OH NO, IT'S HAPPENING TO ME AGAIN", because I always fall for characters that might be unconventional or weird to other people , then I start looking for fics and I realize that there are not many for the same reason, or there are many where it is more platonic and I think "IT IS NOT ENOUGH" And it's more complicated for me because my first language is not English and in my language there is NOTHING. So meeting people who write Rocket the way I imagined really makes me very happy. I'm even thinking about writing some one shots myself but it's hard, I've never written NSFW and I find it kind of funny that I want to start with Rocket.

Oh my god this was absolutely sweet.

Yes!! Everyone IT IS OKAY TO LIKE UNCONVENTIONAL CHARACTERS. LITERALLY, IT IS NOT A BIG DEAL!! JUST BE YOU!!!

And I’m really sorry there isn’t much fics in your language, but on the bright side I’m really happy that you’re at least able to read and write in english even if it isn’t your first language!

Also, yeah, in my experience, besides sighing the whole goddamn movie (except for the first 10 mins, I will give myself that,) I remember leaving the theatre in a sigh and going on ao3 like “ah shit, here we go again” bc this is the 1982838th time I’ve visited ao3 for some really obscure ship or an x reader fic for a very underrated character.

And about that Rocket smut, I understand how can it be daunting and I’d really love to help you!

Ykw, let me make a quick guide for anyone who’s scared of writing Rocket smut!! But for those of you who wouldn’t wanna read some real ugly/stupid stuff, don’t press the ‘keep reading’ line, haha.

a quick (and definitely unhinged) guide to writing Rocket smut XD

OBVIOUS NSFW WARNING!!! It gets ugly guys please THIS IS YOUR WARNING I’M NOT JOKING!!

If you’re uncomfortable with heavy nsfw please turn away now!!

written by aliasrocket (89P13 on ao3 hehe)

Suitable for any smut involving Rocket! (Looking at you guys, roquill shippers. Don’t worry, I welcome all ships on my blog <3)

This is supposed to be a writing smut guide specifically meant for Rocket so I’m not gonna go into the basics of writing smut, but if you’re a total beginner, here’s some pointers to help :

the genitals, legs, muscles, brain : main places that tend to be the most stimulated, exhausted or absolutely wiped. That being said, you can use these as a starting point for describing the feelings the characters or the reader may feel in the moment.

besides the main thing, you could try to set the mood by maybe mentioning how the moans sounded like, (screams, squeals, cries etc.) and other things the characters were doing to ground them in the moment, like gripping the sheets, gripping the other person’s shoulder or hips, etc.

Okay, so, about Rocket in particular …

Yeah, of course writing smut about a fucking Raccoon isn’t going to be fucking easy. But don’t worry, as someone who has studied all 3 gotg films and slowed down quite possibly every single Rocket clip in existence (enough to know Rocket … is genuinely CANONICALLY is very particular/skilled with his fingers, he knows where he’s putting them and knows EXACTLY which buttons to press on any tech, so … definitely good at using his fingers if you catch my drift) I think I might have gotten the hang of it to help some of you guys out.

So first off, when I write Rocket smut I always imagine he’s his comic height instead of his mcu height (don’t search it up, you’re just gonna be depressed about it trust me) so all you have to know is that if he pressed you up against a wall his head would be around your shoulder blade area. For missionary, he’s probably around your collarbone.

Rocket canonically has sharp and absolutely grown out nails. No, they’re not retractible. I’ve done research on this, but if you’d like to write him fingering someone, Rocket can have his nails trimmed.

It would hurt if Rocket bit you. Like, it would fucking bleed. So I’m sorry to say to those biting kink girlies (those are me hi) but Rocket can only afford to give you or someone else some nibbles on the skin unless you guys want some serious bloodplay on your hands. This is because he has protruding fangs on both his upper and lower row of teeth, his lower ones more prominent than the top.

Rocket can, however, eat you out. Don’t wanna get too into depth with this but basically his tongue can stick out his muzzle pretty well and his nose makes for a good clit-stimulator HAHAHAH

!!! : (this is going to be a description of the average raccoon penis so skip this if you don’t wanna know about this because you can DEFINITELY write Rocket smut without having to know this so please be free) I had to research this for a very specific request (pls ily shameless anon/pos) and I almost cried out of the loss of my sanity but anyway, raccoons have a baculum bone which is basically a bone in their penis that helps with copulation, its average length is about 4 inches but can be longer if you catch my drift. The genital itself is a like a rod with a ‘spiky’ end (it’s not actually spiky but it looks that way) compared to human genitalia, kind of like a cat’s but much longer and it is a very dark shade of brown or just plain black. Feel free to use any of these for a possible description if ever you need it, though I never really talk about it in fics, especially the whole ‘spiky’ thing. That being said, Rocket should not have an issue with size, as the the average human male genitalia is about five inches, meaning he can hit anyone’s g-spot just fine.

I might add more points if I have any more but this is all I got right now. I really hope this somehow encouraged you to write that nsfw fic you wanted, and just know everyone’s got interests, it’s fine if not a lot of people irl are into Rocket that way, because that’s literally what the internet is for!

#omg I am so sorry guys please forgive me #but if you are considering writing your own Rocket smut this might be helpful #this is so unhinged omg HAHAHA #guardians of the galaxy #rocket raccoon #rocket raccoon fanfic #rocket raccoon imagine #rocket raccoon x you #rocket raccoon x reader #rocket gotg #ask reply #ask response #ask away!#thanks for the ask!#send dirty asks #.alias.help.

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yourlocalartsonist · 8 months

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ROTTMNT Moths Fly In Packs - Chapter Eight

A/N: I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG OH MY GOD. I genuinely didn’t expect it to, chapter 8 was supposed to be way shorter but uh yk my brain didn’t like that apparatnly. So now it’s uh 10K words. I think it’s genuinely worth the wait and read tho so hey, alls well that ends well or something. I’m gonna try to be faster with updates now. I’m FAIRLY CERTAIN chapter nine will be much shorter or at least nothing crazy like 8 or 10k. But what I can guarantee is chapters 10-13 will most definitely be short and lead up to the grand arc finale of chapter 14. We’re getting pretty close to it and I’m literally vibrating from excitement but no spoilers. Anyway enjoy the chapter! :D

Credit to: @sweaterrat @sleepdeprivedbagels and @yosajaeofficial for being my beloved beta readers! This story wouldn’t be able to have the quality it does without them so please give them some love and check out their ROTTMNT stories too!

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Chapter One

Disclaimer: Chapter involves depressive thoughts, mentions of bullying, depressed behavior, mentions of Kr*ng, PTSD behavior, violence, very lightly graphic description of injuries, blood, and curse words. If you’re sensitive to that stuff, scroll past and stay safe!

Outside the window, you can make out a bird’s nest sat in one of the trees. It’s been here for a week now, perfectly timed with when I got back to a consistent school life. But lately, the mother’s been staying at the nest more often. I’m guessing they’ve got babies on the way, she’s probably incubating her eggs right now. I think I’ve gotten attached to them, that small family of robins. The parents are so dedicated, aren’t they? The mother especially, never leaving the nest unless absolutely necessary.

On the contrary to my peaceful view, the classroom is noisy, hectic, and cluttered. No real science work for today so everyone’s just doing their own thing. Very loudly. Jaiden and Zane are chatting and laughing with each other next to me. I think things are better between us, I still don’t really know where Jaiden and I stand right now but at least Zane seems fine with me. Though I won’t lie, I’ve been feeling more and more like a third wheel around them.

“Dude! I’m telling you, we have to play this game together! We’d have so much fun!”

“I already said I would, Jaiden! Man, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you laugh like this. Shame you’re letting such a pretty smile go to waste.”

“Yeah? Let’s hang out more often then and maybe I won’t do that.”

Like right now.

Lowkey, I’ve been feeling invisible around those two. Jaiden barely pays any attention to me, it’s as if Zane was their best friend instead of me! I mean, I know friends can drift apart, I definitely know. But still, I never imagined it would happen to us. I still don’t wanna believe that’s what’s happening. I wanna keep hope.

“And ironically, you’re being pretty quiet today, Salena. Did you two switch personalities or something?”

“You are weirdly quiet, actually. What’s up?”

Oh lookie, I’ve been acknowledged. “Nah, you guys don’t have to worry about me. Just lower on energy than usual.”

I went back to my routine of staring out the window like the main character in a music video. In the reflection, Zane was still watching me. With the way his eyes lingered, I had a feeling he’s not falling for my excuse.

Seems like Jaiden’s not too worried, though. “Oh, Zane! You wanna hear about this new skate park I found?” Just went right back at it with Zane. Who’s weirdly still staring at me.

“…Actually, I’m kinda hungry. Jaiden, you mind getting me a snack from the vending machine?”

“Huh? But I wouldn’t know what to get you. N-not that I don’t pay attention to what you like! But, you know… Salena has better taste in these things! She should go-”

“She always goes.”

“‘Cause she knows what she’s doing.”

“Jaiden.”

“Guys, it’s fine! It’s fine. I’ve got this.” I didn’t want them to fight again so I got up from my seat. “Be back soon.”

Jaiden gave me their most gleeful smile I’ve seen them make in a while. I think seeing them smile makes this gesture worthwhile. Even if it’s just for a little bit.

The walk to the vending machine shouldn’t have been long, it’s not super far away. But my legs dragged on forcing each step to be slower than the last. I feel guilty thinking like this but a part of me wants this dumb walk to go on forever. I can’t stand being near them and I don’t know why! It’s not like we’ve got bad blood, they’ve both been normal towards me since I came back. So why am I acting like this? I’m seriously starting to doubt Splinter’s theory of me not being the problem here…

I approached the machine, stopping as I heard a struggling voice in front of me.

“Argh! How’d she say these things worked again?”

His finger pressed against the glass, tracing the code for the snack he wanted. He tapped the buttons on the screen. Nothing happened. Scratching his head, he leaned forward to read the next instructions. Finally, he pulled out a dollar bill.

…Before proceeding to insert it in the wrong way. And taking it out. And inserting it back in. And repeating the process. I can feel my soul exiting my body from second-hand embarrassment.

I recognized the fluffy black hair. With a crooked smile, I pulled out my own wallet.

“You’re supposed to put it in this way.” I slid my bill into the slot, the granola bar he selected successfully being pushed down soon after. “Good to see you again.”

“Woah, cool!” He stared at the giant food box almost with a childlike wonder, pausing for a few minutes before turning to me. “And hey! Yeah, it’s really nice seeing you again, too.” His eyes remained locked for a while before he scrambled to hand me the bill he had. “Here! Let me pay you back-“

“No, no, no, don’t worry about it! Really! Consider it my apology for, um, last time.”

“Apology? I mean, you weren’t the one doing anything weird so I don’t think you’ve gotta apologize.” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Casey Jones Jr. I was gonna introduce myself the first time we met but, you know.”

“Salena Moni! So, how’s everything holding up? You joined pretty late in the year so if you need any help reviewing stuff I’m more than happy to.”

“Oh, don’t worry! It’s actually going alright. Still technically my first time going to a real school, so it’s a little bit of a challenge but I already knew most of the material anyways. I didn’t have to catch up on much.”

“Wow, that is… remarkably impressive.” If only I handled transferring as well as this guy. “Wait, hold up, real school? Were you homeschooled?”

“You could… say that. My uncle taught me everything, he was the smartest person I knew! Just turns out it was literally everything.”

“Cool! I guess we can check grades off the box, then! So, is everyone being nice? Made any friends?”

I bit my lip as I received my answer in the form of his face freezing mid-speech. “W-well uh…”

Oh, you poor thing…

I guess he could read my face since he immediately tried reassuring me, as if he wasn’t the victim in this scenario. “I-I mean it’s not awful! A couple people were nice to me, including you! Sure, some are a little… hostile. But it’ll get better eventually.”

“Y-yeah! It definitely… definitely will.”

And cue the classic awkward silence that stars in any first conversation. A little overdue for this one now that I’m thinking about it.

I’m so conflicted. I know damn well he’s not gonna have the high school dream he’s probably imagining right now. No one does. I may not have been at this school for long, but I’ve been here long enough to know how the people are. April told me it gets even worse every year as cliques start getting established and people grow past the initial politeness. I’m glad she did, she never kept anything about high school from me no matter how bad it was. Nothing was in my control but at least I knew it was coming.

And here I am playing the exact opposite role for Casey. I hate giving people false hope, I hate it with a passion! But I’m supposed to, I think. In a situation like this I’m supposed to hype him up. Ignorance is bliss! Wouldn’t it just ruin his spirits if I broke the glass?

“Anyway, it was nice to meet you! I guess I’ll see you around?”

“Y-yep! Hope things get better for you soon!”

“Me too.”

Ugh, the guilt is eating me up! I’m acting like I’ve never told a lie in my life but it’s not that. It’s his pure mindset that’s completely fucking with my morality!

I know to keep my mouth shut, I do. I don’t want him to hate me like everyone else does. I haven’t met someone who’s been so nice to me in this stupid ass school before, I don’t want to ruin this chance now that I finally got it. Plus, he might not even believe me…

I watched him turn to walk away.

Fuck it, social norms are for losers!

“W-wait! Casey?” He turned back around and I nearly shit myself from fear. “So, don’t be mad but I may have um… lied about something?”

“Uh, sorry?”

I took a deep breath, bracing myself. “Well, here’s the deal. Things aren’t really gonna get better, sorry. Or, actually! I don’t mean that extremely literally, I guess...”

Focus on your hands, it’ll be okay. “Just… People here are mean. Really, really mean. You’re homeschooled, you’re new, and you’re nice. It’s a recipe for disaster here whether it’s today or even a year after you’ve settled in!”

I can’t even read his expression and get an idea of his reaction. He’s got a scary good poker face, I’m curious which relative taught him that one.

“Casey, please don’t take this the wrong way. I-I’m not saying any of it is your fault! Or that you need to change or do anything. I’m only saying this so you don’t have any… unrealistic expectations so to speak.”

God, his silence is more terrifying than anticipated.

So much so I couldn’t help letting out a quiet breath of relief when he finally did speak. “You know, you’re the first person here who’s told me that.”

“…Is that bad?”

“Not at all. All my family, they never got the chance to go to school. Hell, I didn’t think I’d have the opportunity. But here I am! First time in a new building with weird people and absolutely no clue what to expect. I’m usually good with surprises but this one is just so… different. Different is scary, you know?”

I nodded. I most definitely did know.

“Anyway, you’re right that people are just mean here. I don’t even know why, I mean, I’ve met my fair share of dicks before but at least they had good reasons! We were under so much stress… But that’s not what I hate. It’s the fact that any time I tell an adult, they say the same thing over and over again!”

“Let me guess.” I cleared my throat and enhanced the performance with my intoxicated Mrs. Doubtfire voice. “Just ignore them and give it time and it’ll magically fix itself ‘cause boredom beats bullies or some shit, right?”

“Yeah, exactly!” His laugh is like holding your parent’s hand when you’re getting the flu shot, it’s magical! “They say that to everyone, don’t they? God, what’s up with that? I’m so not used to adults lying to me.”

“Dude, what? You’re kidding, your whole community’s gotta be amazing if you’ve never been lied to by an adult.”

“Eh, more or less… Anyway, um, thank you. For telling me the truth. And the granola bar. I seriously owe you for this.”

…I take it back, Splinter might’ve actually been onto something.

I mean, he’s a little strange, I won’t lie about that. This is the first time I’ve heard someone actually be grateful for me telling the truth. In the past it either got me isolated or in huge trouble, depending on who I was honest with. Maybe this is why I’m so used to lying. I hate it but I’ve had to do it so much. I’ve never met someone who finally lets me relax about it, not until Casey Jr it seems.

Maybe he deserves me being a little braver for a change.

“Well, here’s a way you can repay me. By us being friends!”

…

This was a lot more epic in my head without his speechless pause. Maybe I got the vibe wrong-

“REALLY!? OMIGOSH! That would be so cool! I’ve literally been thinking about asking you the same thing ‘cause I keep wanting to talk to you but never run into you but now we can talk whenever we want, IT’LL BE GREAT!!!” Spoke too soon, he is literally shaking me by the shoulders. It feels unnatural not being on the other side of this scenario.

“Casey, my stomach doesn’t approve of this-“

“Sorry, sorry!” He finally stopped and allowed me to remember the pleasant feeling of absolute stillness. “I just can’t believe you actually wanna be friends with me!”

Still, his surprising enthusiasm gave me a good laugh. “Dude, it’s alright! It’s kinda more surprising you wanna be friends with me.”

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re the kindest person I’ve ever met in my entire life, anyone who’s friends with you is lucky to have you!”

Lucky to have me?

Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, unexpected compliments go burn in a fire but also don’t leave, it actually feels really nice.

“Salena, are you okay? Did I say something wrong?”

“N-no, I mean, all I did was buy you a snack and tell you people are jerks. I’m not too sure I should be receiving the title of the ‘kindest person you’ve ever met’ and stuff.”

“O-oh yeah, you have a point.” He got a little flustered at that, despite it really being my fault for not being able to take compliments. “I don’t know, I mean, I still think you’re really cool. I’m just so happy you wanna be friends with me!”

He looked like a child on Christmas morning as I tippy-tapped my number into his phone. Come to think of it, I know I’ve definitely reacted excitedly towards certain people - or turtles, I should say - but having someone do it to me? Feels kinda nice.

I looked up at the clock. “Shit. We should probably head back to class before we get in trouble.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right. But hey,” his eyes closed as the corners delightfully wrinkled “it was great running into you again! Fate really wants us to be friends.”

He has a really nice smile.

“Funny how life works, ay?”

I skipped my way back to class, mind too deep in thought to realize how fast I went.

This guy, Casey Jones, he’s giving me certain vibes. I don’t mean the creepy, stalkerish, "I need to get the hell outta here” vibes. More like deja-vu. I can’t pin what exactly, but something about him feels so… foreign yet familiar. Homey, if you may. Like a nice, warm fire in mid-winter night. It’s really soothing.

And immediately I’m thrown into emotional whiplash as I went back inside the annoying ass classroom of teenage chaos. So much for soothing vibes. I plopped back in my desk as Zane slowly scanned me.

“You took a while. Did you get my snack?…”

…Fuck. “Sorry! I completely forgot!”

“How did you forget when it’s the literal reason you even left?” Jaiden doesn’t seem as chipper as before.

“I know, I’m so sorry. I got a bit distracted. Gimmie a sec, I’ll be right back-”

“No, wait! It’s fine, I’m not hungry anymore.”

“Really? Okay, suit yourself.” I shrugged, getting settled in again. He leaned closer to me, both confused and concerned.

“You seem happier right now. Did something good happen?”

“Oh, yeah, I guess! Just ran into a new friend.”

His face scrunched up, going back to chatting with Jaiden. I have no clue why he glared when I said that, I don’t think I said anything wrong or alarming. Honestly, bro has worse mood swings than I do. It's seriously annoying sometimes but whatever, they’ve gone back to their little bubble now so I shall go back to mine.

I pulled out my phone, greeted with Casey’s excited text already.

CJ: Hey! Not really doing anything in class so if you’re free too, text me back :D

Smiling, I let myself get engrossed in my phone, happily typing away. He’s a fun guy to talk to. His enthusiasm and bubbliness is a little surprising considering how borderline timid he seemed at first. Goes to show, never judge a book by its cover! I felt my mood lifting, less gloomier than before.

Until I remembered something he said.

“My uncle taught me everything, he was the smartest person I knew!”

Was?...

***

Ah, midnight. A time when the mentally sane and emotionally stable would be sleeping. Turns out I’m neither of those folks, I’ve got better things to do. I have weapons now but I’ve gotta actually practice using them if I don’t wanna render them useless. Besides, in bed or out here, I’m not falling asleep either way. At least this serves as a good distraction! And won’t give me a headache like my phone will.

The blades cut through the air as I twirled them, striking at an imaginary enemy soon after.

I try not to think about life when I’m training, it distracts me too much. Sometimes I feel like Casey’s the only thing making school bearable anymore. We don’t share any classes so we text more than talk but I don’t have to do any mental gymnastics to figure out how he views me. I’m still confused as hell if Jaiden likes me or hates me and have no damn clue what Zane’s deal is anymore. He keeps staring at me. More than usual. Sure, I could always sit there and ponder for hours on end what the fuck is going on, but I doubt even that’d get any results.

The sickles, however, do show results. They feel lighter, smoother, easier to duel. I’m getting faster with them and my arms don’t feel as broken after training anymore! It’s something I can lose myself in, track the improvement. It’s so much simpler than everything else.

It keeps my mind occupied. If I focus on them, I don’t think about anyone from school or anything bad that’s happening! Or at least, I usually don't. I guess I’m thinking about it now, though…

“Someone’s training hard.”

“AHH!!!”

Immediately I jerked to turn and held up a blade in defense. However, it turned out to be a false alarm as instead of some midnight mugger I expected to see, I’m greeted with a smirking blue idiot standing in front of me.

“Woah, hey! I come in peace!” The stupid bitch held his hands up, mocking me with his fake fear. “Been a while, huh?”

“Leo? Oh god, you scared me! Where did you even come from?”

“The better question would be: Where did you disappear to? We haven’t gone out in like a week! You kept leaving me on read when I texted you but seemed fine in the group chat. What gives?”

“…I forgor?”

“Really?” I could tell he wasn’t satisfied by my answer. “You just forgot to respond to me? Every single time?”

“W-well sorta. I mean, it’s nothing you did so please don’t take it personally! It’s with everyone. I’ve just been a little bad at responding to dms…” My social battery’s been so low lately I question if it’s even charged at all. “That’s entirely on me, though! I’m so sorry.”

He crossed his arms and looked me up and down. He’s doing that nonchalant poker face again, the one he does when he doesn’t wanna be read, otherwise he’s an open book.

“You know you can tell me if something’s up, right?”

I guess he also does that face when he’s trying to read someone else. “Yeah, I know. I’m alright. It’s just… I dunno, things are a little weird but it’s fine. It’s really nothing to worry about.”

He hummed in response. I don’t really think he bought it but his eyes eventually drifted to my weapons, dropping the topic regardless. He must not wanna push it.

“Sooo, sick weapons! Where’d you get ‘em?”

“Oh, these? Draxum gave them to me!”

He gagged, interrupting me. “You met Draxum? The sheep guy? Oh, poor you! Was he awful to deal with? I bet he was! You know, like always.”

“Oh come on, he wasn’t that bad! A little grouchy at first but in his defense, I caught him in the middle of his shift, so.”

“Please, sheep bitch doesn’t need a reason to be a jerk! He’s just an old cranky loser who spends his days yelling at kids and smuggling whatever mystic bullshit of the week he found from the Hidden City! It’s giving Oscar the Grouch, just missing the lemon. Oh wait, that’s ‘cause unlike Oscar, he doesn’t even have one single thing that makes him uncharacteristically happy!”

“Wow, angry aren’t we?” It’s rude to laugh, but I can’t help myself around this dork. He looks like a kid who got denied an Xbox when he crosses his arms like that. “Leo, be real. This is because he threw you off a roof, isn’t it?”

“You know!? I mean-“ He laughed, trying to hide his poorly made lie. “What? Of course not… Maybe just a little but that’s not important.”

Leo grumbled on with some incoherent noises for a minute, before cooling down and moving on from the “sheep bitch”.

“Ugh, well anyway, if you got it from that moron, they’re definitely mystic or something, right?”

“Oh, absolutely! They’re actually super cool, I mean-“ For a good five minutes I kept blabbering on and on about the sickles and how they function and all my progress that I didn’t notice Leo - bless his heart - trying and horrifically failing to pay attention. He doesn’t really hide it well when he spaces out.

“And they- Uh, Leo, you good?”

“…Would you be mad if I said I got like, none of that?”

I sighed but gave a gentle smile. I knew he had a short attention span so I can’t really act like it’s his fault I forgot about that.

“Actually, do you want me to just like… act it out instead? I think I’ve gotten pretty good at using these so I don’t mind showing instead of telling!”

He shrugged “Nothin’s stopping you. Go on, impress me!”

Well, nothing except my nerves. But hey, it’s just Leo. If I mess up, he’ll laugh with me a bit and then I’ll just retry. No real pressure around him. I could use a progress check right now, anyway.

“Aight, so we only know two out of who knows how many powers for these things, they’re the only two I’ve been practicing. First up!”

I spun them around, careful to not mess up my handling. My goal is to form blades strong enough to crack a dent through the concrete edge of this building. So the sickles need to be made out of metal or steel. I usually go with metal but I do actually wanna impress him and steel’s stronger. I aimed at the edge and swung my arm forward, the sickle shot through the air and sliced through the concrete like a knife to a cake.

“OH SHIT!”

“I got it!” He teleported to catch the flying solo sickle and came right back within a matter of seconds. Oh, what I’d give to experience never having to walk again.

“Sorry about that! They’ve never broken the edge like that before!”

“Sorry!? You’re not allowed to be sorry, that was so cool! It went clean through!” I’ve never seen him gush about something this way. I’ve gotta admit, it’s kind of adorable. “Okay, I’m hooked! What’s the other thing it can do?”

“Invisibility! But I can’t do it for long, at least not yet. I made progress, though! Went from only three seconds to five!”

“Wait, actually, back up a bit. I get that Baron Ass told you how the sickles work and blah blah blah, but how’d you learn how to fight with ‘em? Ya know, the non-mystic aspects.”

“Oh, YouTube tutorials at first. But honestly, sickle fighting is mid so I did a lot of improv, really.”

He chuckled and eventually lost to his giggles as if me saying that wasn’t completely justified. “Did you just call an ancient form of martial arts mid?”

“Stop judging me, I’m right! Sickles were improvised weapons. They’re good for the last resort, not the first choice!”

“I’m not judging, I’m not judging! Promise! I respect it, even!” He leaned against the roof’s edge, gradually collecting himself. “But if they’re that bad, why didn’t you ask for a different weapon? One that’s cooler and not ‘the last resort’?”

Oh boy, where to begin?

I then explained how I essentially found myself wrapped in some “chosen one” bullshit through the sickles. They still don’t work any time Barry touches them but are perfectly fine in my hands. It’d be pretty dumb to pass up these weapons for a different one, even if sickles aren’t the coolest thing to own. Although, he’s definitely acting like they are judging by how intensely his eyes are staring at them. They’re sparkling brighter than I thought eyes realistically could.

“Well, now I’m offended! Mystic mystery sickles that do all kinds of glowy stuff for you specifically? How could you not tell me about these sooner!? They’re so amazing!”

“I know, I’m real sorry, Leon.” He’s joking around, his tone’s too light to be mad. But I do still feel bad for accidentally ignoring him like that. “Anything I can do for you as an apology?”

“Well…” His smirk revealed that thing was the main reason he came here in the first place. “We could make up for the lost time and go on a run together tonight. It is a weekend so you’d still have tomorrow and the day after to rest up. But hey, that’s just an idea…”

It's Friday again. Just like the first time we did this.

He held out his hand as an offer and I took it with a grin. “You make a convincing argument.”

And off we went, dashing through the night. It’s a bit humid today so the wind from sprinting so fast is greatly appreciated. Not to mention my speed is so much better than before!

The daily restrictions of civil life can go suck my dick and feed my liver to their uncles ‘cause oh my god nothing beats this feeling! No one else is here, no one who could stop us! Sure, jumping off roofs isn’t the safest way to have fun, but everything else in my life is already so safe! I’m allowed to have this one thing, this one moment to be free.

I’m so distracted that I didn’t realize I’m actually giving Leo a run for his money this time! Hehe, run. God, I’m so funny.

“Looks like you can actually keep up with me now!”

“I know, right!? It feels fucking amazing!”

Judging from his mischievous ass face, I probably should’ve kept my mouth shut. “I don’t mean to burst your bubble but…”

A blue light appeared as a hole ripped in the sky and the lovely piece of shit went right through, appearing again somewhere way ahead of me. “I’m still faster!~”

“Hey! No portals allowed!”

“Uh, last time I checked, portalling is totally allowed.”

“Says who!?”

“Says me and I’m leader! Whatever leader says goes!”

To add insult to injury, he doesn’t just portal himself. As I’m trying to catch up to him mid-jump, the jackass opens a portal right under me, sending me back even further than I already was with no time to recover.

“Leo, you cheat!”

Bro’s giggling his ass off as he blinked in and out of sight. I’m no different with how sore my face is, so I can’t even pretend to be mad.

Instead, all I can do is try my best to speed up and catch up, plotting my revenge in the meantime. Easier said than done, that dude’s faster than the Flash right now since he’s, ya know, portalling. Doesn’t help that he keeps appearing right next to me every few minutes just to taunt me and disappear again.

A few minutes into our little cat and mouse game though, I lost track of him and he hadn’t shown up in a while to pester me. So, I started calling out his name, trying to look for him. You’d think it’d be easier to find a 5’5” giant, green turtle man but I guess they wouldn’t be ninjas if that were the case.

“Leo? Leo!? Le- Huh?”

I finally found him. But instead of the shit-eating grin he gave me earlier, he’s silent and still behind the edge of a roof, his back facing me. It’s starting to freak me out a little, he looks like he’s going fucking Blair Witch mode. No words, no witty remarks, nothing. Just ghostly staring at whatever the view is. Only thing I can see from here is a museum.

“Hey, Leon, you okay?”

“Shh!”

With his eyes still fixed up ahead, Leo took my hand and guided me forward. He eventually looked at me and nodded towards the street below us. Gazing in that direction, I saw a large purple truck with the logo of that one weird shoe store I browsed a few years ago. From what I’ve gathered these past few weeks, big trucks mean bad news.

But maybe that’s not what I should be focused on. Standing near the truck were two people, their skin an unnatural shade of purple. One’s large and brutish, the other tall and slender. They’ve got foot marks on their faces and flames on their bald heads. Exactly how Mikey described…

“The Foot Clan.”

He nodded. “I don’t understand, those guys were all turned into Krang during the invasion.”

Sorry, what? “You’re sure it was those two specifically? I haven’t heard about any cures or vaccines for the Krang victims on the news. It’d make headlines if there were.” I haven’t heard anything about them for a while now that I think about it.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” He leaned closer to the edge, as close as he could get without getting caught. “They’re parked a street away from a museum, the hell are they up to now?”

I mimicked his actions, trying to hear the Foot people better. The slender one’s on the phone, sounding frustrated. He’s doing that whisper-yelling thing people do when they wanna be mad quietly to avoid societal shame.

“Yeesh, someone’s having a bad day.”

“You can hear them?” Why does he look so confused?

“Yeah, can’t you?”

Leo shook his head. “Whatever, what are they saying?”

I cocked my head to the side, spying in on their conversation.

His voice is scratchy, a little sore on my ears. “What do you mean you can’t get it off? Just bring the whole thing and hurry! We can’t risk alerting anyone!” Neither of us can tell what he’s referring to, unfortunately. The Foot dude avoids naming it.

I looked back at Leo scanning around for any clues. He stared at the back of the museum for a minute before his eyes widened. “I know where we are. It’s the Historical Society Museum. Donnie mentioned wanting to come here once.”

“I think I’ve heard of it. Isn’t there a lot of ancient stuff in there? Like, from centuries back?”

Nodded again. He’s being unnervingly quiet, considering it’s Leo. He stared at the clan, then at the museum, then back at the clan. He looked… scared. Scared in a way I’ve never seen him before. I felt my hand being subconsciously squeezed. I didn’t even notice he hadn’t let go in the first place.

…I have to help him.

I readied myself for whatever his idea was, no matter how outlandish or risky it may seem. “Alrighty, what’s the plan?”

“Right.” He hesitated, before gripping his katanas and turning back. “…The plan is for me to portal you home, kick some Foot ass, and pick you up so we can continue our run.”

WHAT!?

“What do you mean ‘portal me home!? I’m not leaving!” I was prepared for anything, but this!? “We just stumbled across the Foot Clan who are for some reason not freaky alien zombies and messing with ancient artifacts that do who knows what!”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m sending you home before your adrenaline junkie ass can do something stupid.”

“And what makes you think I’d do that!?”

He held up my scarred left arm and stared at me unimpressed.

“…Okay, that’s a low blow even for you.”

Though as much as I hate to admit it, he kind of has a point. I sighed. “Alright, tell me. If I leave, will you at least call your brothers to help you out?”

“Yes!”

“Leo.”

“Fine, I lied.” The steel fucking balls of- “But still! I’ll be okay! I’ve gone against them plenty of times before.”

“Doesn’t mean you’re invincible!”

Before I could say anything more, I heard the sound of a truck starting up. I looked down and Leo followed my line of sight to see the Foot getting ready to drive.

Shit, they’re getting away!

“Okay, okay! Listen, I promise, I promise I won’t run off on my own and do something dumb this time. Anything the leader says goes! Just please let me join!” I can’t leave him alone!

I could sense him debating on what to do. His eyes look so conflicted, there’s definitely more than what he’s telling me. Nevertheless, I’m not budging. I don’t wanna sit at home being useless and worry the entire time.

He took a deep breath in, and let out a loud sigh. He looked at me with a defeated smile. “I’m not getting rid of you, am I?”

“Nope.”

“Alright, fine, but you’re sticking close.”

Before I could celebrate too much, I felt the ground beneath me disappear into bright blue light. Not anything sudden, more gentle really. Even then, I felt disoriented with my feet going from firmly grounded to touching the air! Not to mention how light my whole body felt. Gravity did a complete 180 and I got flipped around, landing under the truck.

I nearly lost my grip but a hand on my back kept me in place long enough for me to recollect myself. Leo portalled us here.Well, obviously he did, it just caught me off guard again. It’s not really too bad going through his portals but it sure is a fucking trip when it’s unexpected. Either way, it got the job done.

They drove for quite a damn while. It wasn’t the most pleasant experience having to cling on to the bottom of a moving truck as the only scents to breathe in were that of oil and gasoline, but we probably looked super cool! My ears disagreed but oh well. They parked in front of a mall this time. Not just any mall, the fucking World Trade Center! We’re literally on the other side of the city, what on Earth could they need here?

I wanted to follow them in but Leo was against it. He said it’d be safer for us to spy from a distance for now so we went to the roof of a neighboring building, looking in at them. The Foot are on one of the higher floors, almost seeming like they’re scavenging for something.

Leo’s trying to figure out another way in for us. I still don’t understand why we didn’t just follow them. I know Leo’s not a total reckless nutcase or anything, but being this cautious felt a little unlike him.

“Hey, look, I don’t mean to shoot your own words back at you or anything. But you know you can tell me if something’s up, right?”

For a split second, he looked different. His eyes were dead, his lips shut and neutral. He stared at me but he looked so… lost. Empty.

And then his smile returned, face back to normal. Or at least what he convinced me was normal. I’m not so sure anymore. He flicked my forehead again. Even softer than the first time he did it. “Stop worrying so much! You’re gonna give yourself a chasm worse than Raph’s.”

I didn’t know how to take it from there. So I just watched him.

He eventually decided on portalling us into the building’s vent system. It’s a little cramped but was the only place we can eavesdrop without being immediately spotted. Though honestly, I don’t mind this one bit! I’m controlling the impulsive adrenaline ,however, he didn’t say shit about internal adrenaline! I can’t help it if stealth makes me giddy!

“Hehe! It’s like we’re in a movie!”

“Love your enthusiasm as always but remember to not get too caught up in it.”

I momentarily shoved my excitement to the side as we both tried listening in on the Foot Clan. The skinny dude, who I now know to be the Lieutenant, is barking orders at the rest of the soldiers scouting around while talking to the giant Brute.

“You disabled the cameras, correct? You know we can’t make it any harder for them!”

“Of course I did, it’s a no-brainer! Why’d ya have to ask it like that?” Woah, villain or not, his New Yorker accent is one to admire! “You know, sometimes I feel like you think I’m just stupid and nothin’ more.”

“Oh, don’t start now. Focus on finding good metal. The sooner we finish this the better.”

Hearing his raspy voice makes my own throat itch a little. I lightly clawed at it, trying to not make too much noise as I moved.

I leaned a little closer to Leo “What do you think they need metal for?”

“Not sure. Could be to make more soldiers or something? It’d be a cool upgrade from their paper soldiers.”

Leo’s tone seems a little lighter than before, I’m glad to hear him joke around again. “They could make paper soldiers?”

“Yeah! And they’re completely sentient, one of them even became besties with Raph! Anyway,” he pointed down at a handful of soldiers collecting metal artifacts “they’re probably trying to make those origami soldiers again with something stronger.”

“But how would you fold metal?”

“Beats me, Mikey would know more on this. He’s figuring out how to recreate whatever spell they used so we could get some help with patrolling. Word of advice though, salami origami does not work as a substitute.”

“No shit. Who’s bright idea was that?”

“...You don’t know him.” His guilty face says it all.

We were giggling a little too loudly, I suppose. One of the Foot dudes stopped and started listening for our voices again. He shrugged and moved on soon enough. I didn’t realize I was covering my mouth till I let myself breathe again.

“We should probably be a little quieter and take this stealth thing more seriously.”

I nodded in agreement. He’s not upset, honestly he’s struggling just as much as I am to choke down more giggles. It’s like we’re hiding under a blanket during a sleepover pretending we’re not awake in front of the parents and not in a likely life or death situation spying on the black-magic cult. I’m trying my best but it’s already hard enough to keep my adrenaline addiction in check and Leo being here makes it worse in the best ways possible.

Still, I don’t wanna know what happens if we get cau- What was that creaking sound?

CLANG!

It would seem those were not really sturdy vents.

You know that moment from the Ice Age sequel when the vultures surround the main cast with hungry, devilish eyes ready to feast on them at any given moment? Yeah, let’s just say I wouldn’t be surprised if the Foot Clan randomly bursts into song about “glorious food” full on broadway musical style.

“Uh… Hey, fellas! Long time no see, am I right?” Despite his demeanor, I caught the real reason he raised his hands. I reached back for mine as well.

A sheath of metal filled the air as Leo took his katanas out their case, perfectly timed with the Lieutenant’s new orders.

“GET THEM!”

“Run, hide first then get the stolen thingie if you can. I’ll keep ‘em busy!” Leo charged into the fight, holding them off to make sure they couldn’t get to me.

Unfortunately, there’s like a bajillion of them that can easily outnumber us. I’ve learned to be quite a slippery sprinter but even then two already managed to block my path.

Now would be a good time to turn invisible!

“Come on, come on!” I could barely get the sparks to even start spreading. Turns out stress is a huge fucking factor I neglected in my training.

I wouldn’t have minded if it just took a few seconds to work but the real issue was I couldn’t keep it working. I didn’t even really go invisible, just sorta flashed in and out of transparency for a few seconds! The only reason I haven’t gotten caught yet is ‘cause these two morons are too busy laughing at me.

“Is that really the best you can do!? Whoever you are, little girl, you’ve got your work cut out for you!”

“Oh no! She’s… she’s… blinking like an old flashlight!! We’re so scared!”

…BITC-

Resorted to traditional methods. I made the sickles the consistency of a metal pot and threw it at one of their heads, knocking them down. The other I kicked straight in the chest while they were distracted by their idiot teammate, also knocking them down. I’d love nothing more than to give some extra special attention to them but this old flashlight’s gotta run for the shadows while they’ve got an open chance.

A blue portal opened in front of me. “Hey Salena, so this fight’s a little more intense than I expected and I wanted to quickly check if you’re really sure about-”

“Leo, I’m fine! I’m not leaving mid-battle!”

“No, no, that’s fine! That’s great! Just a reminder there’s no shame in calling it- DUCK!”

Without hesitance, I dropped to the ground right as his sword swung above me to block one of the soldier’s attacks. Maybe I should let Leo handle this guy since I can’t really do much while laying on the floor. Then again, doesn't mean I can’t do anything. And also I don’t have good impulse control.

“OW!!! WHAT THE FUCK!?”

I bit on to his ankle as hard as I desired despite his pleading cries. I didn’t let go until Leo broke out of his shock and finally punched him unconscious. Fighting might actually be a really good way to get out my urges.

“Why-“

“Don’t. If it works, it works.”

I flashed a grin, got back on my feet, and bounced away. I need a better vantage point if I wanna find the stolen item, especially with the chaos over here. I quickly made my way up to the indoor balcony thingie. Terrance? The second floor? Whatever the fuck it is. I’ll have to admit, despite how absolutely pumped I’m feeling right now, it kinda feels nice getting away from the clusterfuck for a bit. I heard Leo still spamming all his dialogue options to keep the main two creeps occupied. Actually, I’m pretty sure I can see them from up here, too.

“So, you guys are looking great! Never thought I’d say this, but I am loving the old look making a return.” His hands did more tricks than usual, keeping his swords flowing like an intricate dance. There are multiple soldiers practically hounding him yet he’s fending them off almost gracefully.

“Can’t you stupid children stay out of our way for one night! There’s great evil being put on the hold right now for your antics!”

“Hey, speaking of evil, what’s with the normal amount of eyes? Not that I’m missing the other option but- GAH!”

And yet, even with Leo’s skilled moves, he’s struggling to keep up with the two leaders specifically. I deadass would’ve been slaughtered by now if I didn’t listen to him about hiding.

“We got some outside help. Now, stop askin’ annoying questions and maybe we’ll go easier on ya!” He swung his axe again, thankfully missing Leo.

I gotta wonder, from Mikey’s stories, they’ve fought the Foot Clan with ease several times in the past. Leo was doing fine just now, too. So why does it look like this could be his first time facing off the Lieutenant and Brute? Nobody’s perfect but I don’t think either of us expected him to lose his grace and become borderline clumsy against them.

Wait, no! Distractions! Leo can handle himself, I need to focus on my own task. Stolen thingie! But where the hell is it?

Just as I was about to think they left it in the truck like common sense would dictate, a soft, reflective red glow caught my eye. The moon was on my side tonight.

“There she is!”

Or maybe I was being too optimistic. In fairness, I should’ve known I couldn’t stay here for long.

It would be really fucking nice to turn invisible now. Sickles? No? Oh, okay, fuck me then I guess.

I hopped off the edge before they could reach me and slinked to the other side of the room, following the red gleam. Despite the sickles betraying me with horrific timing twice tonight, I got them to cover me long enough to reach the ruby ring the glow came from. The light bled past the folds of the drape covering their stolen prize. I lifted it to find a… weird mannequin bust? With arms. Decorated with several ornaments and jewelry including the ring. What the fuck are they using this for, a fashion show?

I flinched to the sound of a loud thud paired with Leo’s groan. Flipping my head behind me, I saw him cornered against a wall, swords shielding him from the Brute’s axes.

“Okay, either you two got a lot stronger or my body isn’t what it used to be.”

I gotta calm myself down, Leo’s a trained ninja and will likely be completely and totally fine! A tiny slip doesn’t mean inevitable doom!

…I hope.

I turned my attention back to the mannequin thing to mentally measure its size. I’m fairly certain it’ll fit inside my backpack, it’s not too big. Just gotta get it in now.

Another sound interrupted me. This time, it was loud metallic clanking off the floor. Leo’s katanas…

“On second thought, maybe it’s both.” His weapons were away from him, too far out of reach. His voice sounded weaker, arms wrapped around his torso.

Oh no.

Neither of them were holding back. As soon as he was down, they were practically hammering at him. His arms were up, defensively blocking his head. I’m supposed to stay away from this. I’m supposed to listen and focus on my task. But I can’t stop my body from turning when I see something like this happening.

He’s in the air now. I need to move. He’s being swung. I need to be faster.

“Let this be a lesson, turtle. Our battles have drastically changed.”

The window shattered from the force of his body.

“LEO!”

I don’t remember ever sprinting this fast, but I was out the window right after through the very hole he created. The height couldn’t scare me if it tried. My arm outstretched, I caught him with one hand and had my sickle in the other. Careful to not dare mess up my timing, it snatched onto a power line just as my blades turned to rubber, thick enough to not get us shocked from the voltage.

“N-nice… nice catch.”

“Thanks.” It’s harder to talk when I’m panting like a dog and trying to limit my shaking limbs.

His weight felt like it would rip my arms apart. I didn’t expect a giant muscular turtle to be light but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. Still, some-fucking-how, I’m able to keep us both hanging from the wire, comprehending the fact that we’re not dead. Thank fuck for Raph forcing me to work out sessions.

“You, uh, you doing good up there? You’re breathing kinda heavily. Hey, heavily! Didn’t even mean to make that one!”

“Leo I will drop you.”

He convinced me to suffer a little longer and try to swing him, giving enough momentum for him to catch onto the side of the neighboring building. Then, I swung myself, Leo catching me to soften the landing. We scampered up to the roof, coincidentally the same one we were on a while ago.

“And literally back to square one. Fantastic.” He sighed, clearly annoyed by our failure. His attention quickly shifted once he noticed me rubbing my sore arms. “Hey, you okay? Want me to take a look at you?”

“Me? Take a look at yourself first, idiot!”

I’m not gonna pretend I’m not in pain, but it’s nothing close to the tragedies on his body currently. His arms are bruised and cut from the fight. One was actively bleeding with bits of glass still stuck in some places. Luckily it was the only fleshy place he took damage on, everything else was protected, albeit a little cracked.

“It’s… It’s fine. My shell took most of the hit, anyway.” This bitch. “Besides, I’ve got bigger things to worry about.”

Despite his condition, he started walking to the edge of the roof, heading back towards the WTC.

“Where the hell are you going?”

“To get my katanas back.”

“Oh, no, no, no, you are not going back in there! Can’t you just make new swords or something?”

“And help the foot by practically gifting them Hamato weapons?”

“You said they’re made from your magic! Shouldn’t that protect them from other people trying to use them?”

“I don’t know, we only learned about this ninpo stuff, like, last year! I don’t know enough to be sure nothing will happen if I leave them with the Foot. I’m not doing that.”

“Well, I can’t let you go back.” I stood in front of him to block his path. “We can figure something else out but you are not going back in there! Look at you, it’d be crazy!”

“I was crazy once-” My hand shut his stupid, smug mouth before he could complete the ritual.

“Leo, you were thrown out a window! You’re hurt!”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay! I’ve been through worse! I’m just gonna get my swords back, that’s all.” He put a hand on my shoulder and threw on a fake smile to comfort me. The blood is literally dripping down his arm as he did, defeating the point. I looked back at his eyes, not bothering to hide how furiously concerned I am. If I’m reading him right, he’s not oblivious to reality. He’s a medic, he knows it better than I do.

He took a shaky breath in. “Fine, you’re right that I’m a little hurt. But we can’t waste time patching me up, I need to get my swords! Rule number one of basic survival is never let the Foot come into possession with highly mystic material ever.”

“Then I’ll go while you take care of yourself.”

“NO!” His head perked up as his eyes grew wider. He tried saving his initial reaction. “No way, not happening. It’s a safer plan if I go in, I’m more used to them” Safer for us or for just me.

“And yet, you got beaten to a pulp, isolated from your weapons, thrown out a window, and are now bleeding with shards of glass sticking out your body. Did I miss anything?” He’s neglected himself all night being overly cocky and confident nothing bad would happen to him. That’s what’s led to him turning out like this! “They didn’t exactly go easy on you, Leo-”

“Then imagine what they’d do to you!”

His brows knit together, staring at me, not blinking. I guess my wish was granted since he finally stopped disguising his true fear.

“Salena, please. Stay here, I’m going in.”

I almost let him go. Almost.

Too bad for him, I yanked him by the mask tails and pulled his stunned face back to face me.

“Hey, wh-”

“Alright, listen. I know whoever these guys are, they’re dangerous as fuck. I know I’m nowhere near as skilled of a fighter as you and I probably never will be. And I know I am way in over my head about this. But none of that matters to me.”

He kept quiet. So I continued. “What matters is that I’m your friend. Friends don’t let each other jump into losing battles, okay? You’re hurt, Leo. Please, just let me help you.”

I looked up at the sky. The clouds are covering the moon now and should stay that way for a little while. I could take advantage of the newfound darkness.

I stood on the ledge, mentally preparing myself to reignite the flames. Sure, I talked big about being able to handle myself and whatnot but I’m just trying to fool myself into thinking I’m not scared. If I can keep myself level-headed and use my sickles, I’ll be able to stay invisible for a short bit. If I play my cards right, that should be all I need.

I felt a hand grab my wrist. Turning around, I readied myself to once again reassure Leo I’d be fine but stopped when he put something in my palm. I recognize them, they’re tanto knives.

“Hey.” His smile is forced but not disingenuous.

“You’ve got this.”

So off I went with the last little push I needed. The cool night air feels fantastically refreshing on my skin. Every leap leaves me more confident I’ll succeed. I have to. He needs someone he knows he can depend on.

I scouted around and found an open window to sneak back in through. Judging by how crazy strong these guys are, my best bet is the element of surprise and for these oversized lethal boomerangs to actually work in my favor. Which they hadn’t before. But nothing’s ever hopeless. The reflection off the moon was their main source of light, with the clouds hiding it now and my knowledge of the floor’s layout, I think I might have a working plan this time.

I rushed over to the balcony I was at previously, this time being more cautious of any look-outs. There were three of them up here so I’m glad I didn’t choose the reckless route. I took my sickles out my backpack, breathed in, and turned invisible. A little harder to do since my nerves haven’t completely disappeared but it’s going smoother than before.

I snuck up to the soldier at the back of the trio, covering his mouth and dragging him to the dark, knocking him out shortly after. His two buddies were a piece of cake after that, hit one with a blunt-force sickle and take the other by hand at the same time. No one noticed a thing.

With the balcony cleared, I reclaimed my little sighting spot and looked over the entire floor, making note of every nook and cranny I could hide in. The clan’s focus changed since last time, they’re trying to get out as fast as possible. Seems like they’re taking Leo’s katanas with them since Lieutenant Itchy McSore-Throat was holding onto them.

“All of you hurry up! We must get out of here!”

I spotted the stolen mannequin in the distance. It’s actually not too far and surprisingly not removed. The two leaders seem distracted by someone. Perfect timing. I crept down and started taking out some more soldiers, listening in to the conversation at the same time.

“What about getting all the mystic metal we can?” That’s a new voice.

“Forget the metal, we’ve got enough for today. We need to leave or that turtle will bring reinforcements!”

“Yeah, sure, whatever makes ya happy, boss.”

“You better not be questioning my authority.”

“Our authority, he means. We’ve had your type before, and they grew to be traitors. I suggest you don’t test the patience of the Foot ‘cause it’s growin’ thin.”

“Nice phrasing! Even if you shouldn’t have interrupted me.” I can’t tell if these two have workplace tension or workplace bromance anymore. “But he’s right. You’d do well to remember your place, rookie.”

“Hey, I wasn’t tryna question anything guys. Just sayin’ maybe we should’ve planned this better in case we got caught.”

“So you may be right. We’ll keep it in mind but work on your delivery when it comes to criticism. Now quickly, go join the others.”

“Can I at least hold the magic swords?”

“No.”

She grumbled and left through the door, likely exiting the building. Her attitude was a pleasant surprise. I’ll admit, I kinda assumed all the Foot soldiers had brain-numbing levels of obedience.

The clouds were clearing up, though. The moonlight brightened the room back up, I can’t use the darkness for cover much longer. Alas, if only I knew how to use my literal invisibility powers for longer than a few seconds but you know what? This is genuinely perfectly okay. I’ve taken out enough of them to only leave a few left standing, not to mention the majority of them are already out the building. I gotta take these freaks head on if I wanna get Leo’s swords. No more hide and seek.

I let the light illuminate me.

“Hey guys!~” I waved gleefully as the Foot idiots finally noticed my presence. “Remember me? Hope it hasn’t been too long.”

“You!” The Brute turned to me first. “You’re the Hamato ally from earlier!”

“What are you doing here! Why have you returned!”

“You sure have a way of asking questions that makes them feel like statements. Anyway, I’m here to collect something you stole from my friend.”

He gripped the swords as he scowled at me. I held my own sickles tighter.

“You foolish child! You leave us no choice but take you out permanently.”

“Oh, really now? You and what army.”

I scoffed when I caught his expression change. Everyone looked at each other, noting how very few of them are suddenly in the room. So distracted they barely noticed me going for my first blow.

He quickly got ready to block me with Leo’s weapon, absolutely bewildered when I only zoomed past him and sliced at the leg of another soldier behind him. It wasn’t too deep but poor guy was still rendered useless. I dashed to my left at another soldier, dodging his attack and punching right up his chin.

“What’s going on!? Those sickles were dull the last time she used ‘em!”

“They must be mystic…”

“Right you are, Lieutenant! I kept them dull on purpose, my mistake.”

I threw a tanto at a cultist’s shoulder.

“You threw Leo out a window. I think you can bear to see some blood.”

One by one, I went around the room, sprinting past anyone chasing after me and immobilizing anyone with their guard down. I got in a groove good enough to keep myself progressing along while getting out my rage. I wasn’t kidding before, I would’ve kept my blades dull again. I’m still careful to not do anything fatal but I’m not gonna be exactly merciful, either. They deserve this.

Fighting felt like dancing, gliding across the room in an energetic fashion. I’m not crazy enough to go for the Lieutenant or Brute which ended up being a plus for me. They was more than ready to protect themselves, but not their team. At last, I got them all exactly where I needed them.

Alright, stay calm. Turn invisible no matter what.

My sickles shone with a pink glow, allowing me to disappear from their sight. I scampered past them, reaching the bejeweled mannequin behind them. It feels a little different? But there isn’t any concrete proof for this so my brain’s just tricking me. Whatever, no time to lose. I shoved it in my bag, getting myself used to the weight, and aimed a sickle at his arm.

“Where’d she go!?”

“Stay alert! Don’t let her catch you off guard!”

A bit late for that buddy.

My blade sliced through, leaving a massive gash on his arm. He screamed and dropped Leo’s sword. I ran through, catching it just as I became visible again. I snatched the other one as quickly as possible and sprinted to create some distance.

I held my arm up to my face, making good use of the wraps’ built-in comms. “Leo! Heads up!”

I threw a katana out the window, smashing the glass as it flew outside. I stopped in my tracks with a smirk. I knew we won.

I dodged the last attacks of the night, accelerating faster than I realized I could go. “Well folks, this was quite a fun match! Hope to never see you again!” Blue light sparked across my body. I leapt in the air, gave a quick peace sign purely to piss ‘em off, and bid my farewell.

“Toodles~”

Teleportation isn’t actually too bad if you know it’s coming.

The cool night air returned on my skin. I was floating for a few seconds before crashing to the roof on my knees. I didn’t even care about the pain, I was too busy enjoying the hug I received for my success!

“I DID IT! I FUCKING DID IT! WOOHOO!!!”

“Celebrations later, escaping now! Come on!”

Leo dragged me up and pulled us through another portal.

***

“We are the champions!~

“Gone with the losers ‘cause we are the champions!”

I handed another slice of pizza to Leo, half the box pepperoni for him and the other half plain cheese for me. We already dropped off the mannequin back to the museum and I gave an anonymous tip to 911 so now we’re simply chilling on the roof singing to celebrate our victorious night. I’m honestly still hyper as hell over it.

“I can’t believe we actually did it! I can’t believe I actually did it! Salena one, Foot Clan NONE BABY, FUCK YEA!”

“Man, I am so happy you came out okay. You have no idea how relieved I was when I saw you again.” He bit into the cheese, the least stressed I’ve seen him all night.

I couldn’t realize it earlier but that hug he gave wasn’t for my success. It’s clear to me now.

“Leo?”

“Hm?” He looked towards me as he bit into the cheese.

“Thanks for trusting me.”

He mirrored my smile. “Hey, we’re friends, right? That’s what I’m here for.”

The spring breeze feels so sweet. The view of the city is rewarding as always. A safe city, a safe night. I can see why they’re so into this whole hero gig. Everything about this moment feels absolutely perfect.

Buzz! Buzz!

I swear to god if my fucking phone’s gonna ruin it again. I quickly checked the notif to see if it was anything important. To my surprise, it’s Jaiden.

They sent me a text. The first one in weeks. It’s a dumb meme I saw earlier today.

We used to do this a lot in the past. Whenever we got into a fight, it’d be our way of ending it. We could never stay mad at each other for more than a day. In the past at least.

I guess this means they’re not mad at me anymore.

“Everything okay?” Leo stared at me, probably concerned by my change in demeanor.

I double tapped to like Jaiden’s meme and put my phone away, going back to normal.

“It’s nothing important. Just, uh, highschool stuff. You wouldn’t get it.”

He laughed “Oh, okay, well. I know I’m too fabulous to be the average, uncool, normal teen guy doing normal teen things like going to highschool that you want right now but…”

“If you ever need someone to lend a shoulder, you know who to call.”

He’s an idiot, but a very sweet one when he wants to be.

“Thanks, Leo, but I mean it this time. It’s nothing.” I raised up my slice to request a toast of some sorts. “Let’s go back to celebrating, shall we?”

He let out a satisfied chuckle, returning my toast. I didn’t wanna let anything ruin the way I felt tonight, even if their text tainted the vibe a bit. But hey, it’s technically a win, too! I got my confirmation that Jaiden and I are indeed still friends.

Though I gotta admit, I’m not as happy as I thought I’d be.

Next Chapter

#save rottmnt #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #unpause rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt season 3 #rise of the turtles #rottmnt fanfiction #rottmnt x oc #oc x canon #rottmnt oc x canon #nickelodeon #rottmnt moths fly in packs

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gffa · 2 years

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Do you have any advice about how to get better at the social side of fandom? I try to reblog art and posts that interest me with nice comments and post original content I think is fun and cool, but I can’t seem to make an impression on anyone. I’ve tried joining Discords, but I just end up getting overwhelmed and lurking like a weirdo. Overall, I just can’t seem to find my crowd, and I just feel discouraged and lonely while everyone else in fandom seems to have incredible friends.

Hi! This is a hard one because so many of us struggle with it, even people you think might not be, still feel the same way you do. It’s even harder because you’re doing all the things I would immediately suggest as a place to start, to leave comments and tags, to create your own original content in the tags, to join Discord (I get overwhelmed by Discord a lot, too), so my best advice is that it just takes time. I know it feels like you’re the only lonely one, but I promise you that you’re not. Yeah, you get some amazing extroverts in fandom (whom I love and admire deeply, even sometimes am envious of you guys! XD), but the majority of us are in the exact same boat. It took me years to develop friendships with people, it took me years to get going on tumblr even to the point I’ve gotten to. When I started, I posted so much--SO MUCH!!--and there were a lot of crickets until I’d been around awhile and had discussions with people. The best advice I can give you is to do your best to relax and know that you’re not the only one who feels this way and that it often is just a matter of time. That the friends you make may not be the ones you’re expecting, that a lot of social interactions aren’t going to feel very satisfying and it has nothing to do with you, people are busy a lot, they’re depressed a lot, they’re shy a lot, fandom is often contentious and some of us don’t know who’s going to get mad at us because we like the Jedi, so we tend to hold our cards close to the vest. Or sometimes we’re introverts as well and just don’t have a lot of social skills. You have to remember that, as much as it seems like people are out there with all these incredible friends, the vast majority of fandom is actually a bunch of socially anxious nerds who have trouble with interactions, even if it seems like they don’t. It’s usually just a matter of time and letting the right friendships come to you, rather than seeking them out. It’s hard to give more explicit advice without knowing your specific circumstances--which I understand why you may feel shy about explaining more!--I don’t know what kind of original content you create, I don’t know which corners of fandom you’re interested in, like if you’re a fan of a particular ship or a specific character, or even what kind of friends you’re looking for, like do you want fandom friends or ones that you would give your full name and address? because those can be two very different things! And sometimes it’s hard to tell which strengths of yours should be played to, like my strength is yelling about my feelings about Star Wars, partly because I’m good at it and partly because it’s the thing I genuinely most want to do in fandom, but someone else’s strength might be writing fic or drawing art, neither of which I’m very good at, your strength might be writing fic or making headcanon posts instead, and my advice on that would be different from if you just wanted friends to hang out with and speculate about a given series with casual friends versus friends who are intensely into the lore. Really, though, when it comes down to it, I suspect a lot of it is that it’s just a matter of time. Ignore the overnight prodigies of social interaction fandom who seem like they found their friends immediately (I say with love, I promise XD) and remember that the vast majority of us took years to find our places and it can be disheartening to keep trying to put yourself out there, but it will happen eventually.

#lumi.txt

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maaikeatthefullmoon · 9 months

Text

2023 has been a bitch of a year. There’s been lots of personal shit going on in my life which has made it really, just, awful.

My mental health isn’t the most stable of things. I’ve got a long history of it having ups, but mostly downs. The file is thick, with diagnoses and various professionals all giving their opinions on them.

So when Good Omens S2 sent me into a two-week depression spiral, I had a panic-driven breakdown. Can I not enjoy my favourite things anymore? Is anything sad or even emotional going to destroy my mental health? Can I not be ME anymore? I felt lost and genuinely was grieving.

Thankfully after two weeks the cloud lifted and whilst I still love GO with the same depth & passion as always, I’m no longer bursting into tears various times a day or feeling panicked or rudderless about it all.

I’d initially put it down to the surgery if had about five weeks before GO2 came out (hysterectomy; they took everything, so my hormones are fckd). Just being hysterical in the old fashioned sense.

But reading some things today really made me think. Sure, my hormones were deserting me faster than MPs did Liz Truss, but…it was DEEPER than that.

I ‘safely’ tucked all my emotions away in December when what would be the Shit of 2023 was starting.

It came out occasionally in the early months but especially from March-July it was shut away tightly.

But then Ep6 happened and I just…broke. But not in a bad way, more in a…beautifully appreciating art way. Appreciating the beautiful writing. The sensational acting. The emotions on the screen which had been missing in my head.

But my mental illnesses interpreted it as “you’ve lost your mind again, now cry all the time, you’re sad, did you hear something, do you think others heard that or just you, maybe, now cry some more, ok, now your brain will just…float away outside your head for a bit…before coming back to make you cry again…when you least expect it”

But after two weeks it stopped. And then the full love and appreciation and JOY of S2 hit me. I’ve just been wanting to send Neil Gaiman a message saying “thank you” but he gets enough of those so I won’t bother him.

And I’m just so in awe. In awe of the subtle emotional plays on Michael & David’s faces. The emotions I’ve not been managing but do feel. The gestures, the body language, both subtle and overt. But especially the facial expressions. The EXPRESSIONS.

I know Neil has said there won’t be a script book for S2 but I’d love so much to see the directions for the more emotional scenes to see how much my fkd up brain is reading (in)correctly.

Anyway. That’s my thoughts on the beautiful, emotional and absolutely amazing writing and acting that we’ve once again gotten from Neil, Michael & David.

#good omens meta #good omens thoughts #message for Neil Gaiman #good omens #good omens 2 #michael sheen #david tennant #mental health #mental heath issues #neil gaiman #text #sadness and happiness

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fuck-customers · 2 years

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I feel like my job is actually, in the most literal sense driving me insane. We never have any staff on, there’ll only ever be 1 or 2 of us on at a time which really fucks us over on busy days. I’m pretty anti-social and have major social anxiety (trauma related) so dealing with people almost all day every day really wears me down and stresses me out. So many days I’ve gotten so close to wanting to jump the counter and smash a customers face in just out of rage and stress. I think a customer could literally choke and die in front of me and I’d be just shrug it off, if not laugh at them. They keep rostering trainees on my shifts which isn’t good for busy nights, I’ll fall so far behind because I can’t do 3 people’s jobs at once quickly and just start getting verbally berated by all the fuckwit customers who can’t tell how stressed and overworked I am. Every time I have to listen to a person talk to me or give me their order it’s like someone grinding sandpaper in my head. And I’m getting so tired of the ‘nice customer’ bullshit. Those people who go “oh I’m so sorry to bother you” “sorry to order, I know you’re busy” you’re NOT SORRY. And if you can SEE how busy I am then why the fuck are you still COMING HERE TO ORDER. GO SOMEWHERE ELSE, THERE’S LITERALLY 10+ PLACES TO GET FOOD HERE. Just drop the caring bullshit, we both know you don’t give a fuck about adding to my stress you only care about getting your order in. I hate it when they try to initiate small talk, I do not want to talk to you people, I hate you fucking bastards. I don’t care about your plans for the day, you don’t care about mine. You don’t ask how I’m doing out of genuine concern, but only because it’s the usually default spiel. Seriously, just order your meal and get the fuck away from me.

I’ve started to have panic attacks during almost every shift but just have to work through them and suck it up because there’s literally no one there to help or keep up the work if I fall apart, the breaks aren’t even long enough to properly rest. By the time I get to my car it’s already halfway over.

I want to get the fuck out of customer service before I really do snap, but I have no other options. I’m too depressed to commit to studying, have no other experience outside of hospitality and I know anyway if I quit my job I’d just get into a slump and sit on my ass refusing to job search out of fear and hopelessness. I really don’t know what to do with myself anymore.

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durotoswrites · 2 years

Note

Hihi, I was wondering if you could do a character breakdown (if you still do them) about grant or Carter (archeologist), just take your time!

Grant is one character that I always felt so bad for. The guy deserved so much more, and I’ve got opinions on it! Buckle up, because here we go!

How I feel about this character: I have played a lot of HMDS and some Another Wonderful Life, so my analysis is mostly going to be on his DS version. It’s impossible to talk about Grant without mentioning his family. Based on what I’ve seen in the games, he’s relatively the same person in both games. The major difference is the absence of his wife, Samantha, and I haven’t gotten married in AWL, so Grant and his family never moved in. After looking at a wiki, I see that Samantha puts a lot of pressure on Kate to be feminine and obedient to the point where Kate feels a lot of pressure and resentment towards her.

Since Samantha is absent in HMDS, Kate’s frustration and anger gets directed towards her father which seems to come out of nowhere. As far as I recall, Grant never demands his daughter be more “ladylike”, but Kate is frustrated at the lack of backbone he has.

I really felt bad for Grant in both versions of this game. He works an unhappy job, comes home to an unhappy family, and just seems to be a hollow shell. He’s visibly depressed and I always wished there was something I could do to cheer him up.

All the people I ship romantically with this character

No one: Please let this guy get some help. He’s so unhappy and needs to learn to love himself.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

I do see Grant as having casual friends at the bar. Griffin and Muffy in particular, I think, would be willing to listen to his troubles and help cheer him up. I know in DS, Muffy goes on walks with the kids, so I could see a reality where Muffy kind of bonds with Kate and is able to talk to her about what has her so angry. I can imagine Kate confiding in Muffy that she thinks her dad is a loser. Obviously it’s not Griffin’s and Muffy’s responsibility to fix their relationship, but they might be able to give Grant some better insight in how to communicate more effectively with his daughter. I think that would bring a lot more happiness to his life.

My unpopular opinion about this character

Are there unpopular opinions about him? I don’t think he’s the sole reason why the marriage between Samantha isn’t/wasn't working. There’s an obvious lack of communication and a lot of pressure being put on Kate. Grant isn’t a perfect father and struggles to relate to his daughter, so I don’t see him as a completely blameless character.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

I wish there were storyline events in HMDS where Grant learns how to talk to his daughter and let her be who she wants to be, but also be himself, too. He seems so trodden down, and when I played several years in HMDS, he never seemed much happier. When I gave him a simple bowl of noodles, I felt like I was giving him the only sunshine in his day.

I don’t know if there are further events in AWL with Grant and his family, but I hope he grows and learns to be happy, but I’m not holding my breath.

To me, Grant represents a lot of people who feel stuck in life. They’re no longer young with dreams for the future. Their hopes have all been dashed and they have nothing to look forward to. It’s really sad, and I was surprised to see that kind of representation in this game (note that HM SNES was my first game and HMDS was my second - I wasn’t aware other games had darker elements).

I guess if I were to simplify, one thing I wish would have happened to Grant in canon would be that he finds happiness.

Bonus! I feel like Jethro Tull’s Locomotive Breath is a perfect anthem for Grant.

youtube

Thank you for the ask! I really do love Grant, and I want so badly for him to have a genuine smile. I’ll get to the second part of the ask soon! 😉

#character breakdowns #character breakdown #character breakdown ask game #ask game replies #anon asks #grant #harvest moon grant #hm grant #harvest moon ds #harvest moon ds cute #harvest moon awl #hm awl #thank you for playing! <3

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tobesobri · 2 years

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Hi everyone. Sorry I’ve been mia for a bit. I decided to not respond to messages because it just hurt too much to dwell on everything that happened (since it was a super traumatic experience for me). But if you reached out, I appreciate you so so much. And if you have been through losing your best pet friend I am so genuinely sorry. I’ve been through this twice now and I don’t really think I will ever fully move on, but it has gotten a little better with some time (and lots of distractions). It just is actually the worst when all you want is your tiny bff and she’s not there, you know? I keep wishing I could go back and cuddle with her more and not push her off of me when she tries to sleep on my face. I get kind of buried in the regrets and the wishes though and I try to remind myself that I got to cuddle with her one last time on Saturday before she left and all the other good moments we had together are what matters (and I’m crying again so I will stop this train of thought now).

You don’t have to read any of this, it’s just been helping me with the Grief™️ to talk about some things. But I’ve kinda just had a hard time like enjoying anything lately which I expected bc I’m very much depressed rn but that’s why I haven’t even been on here to keep up with Harry because not even Harry has brought much joy back. I know it will just take time it just upsets me the most because I have my two dogs as well who usually always make me happy and still like idk I guess nothing is like filling the gaping hole in my heart that all of this left. I bought some plants though that I’m now taking care of so that’s helping a little. Might not have been the best move bc I have never taken care of plants and I will probably have a breakdown if I kill one of these succulents tbh lol.

Anyway, I just wanted to come on here and give a little update because I’m going to try to come back on here again soon and I don’t want to like have my last post be about a traumatic thing that happened and then bam! random photo of harry shirtless at msg you know jnfvf

Also, I have never done this and you do not have to at all but I thought I would ask if anyone would like to. I’ve been kind of putting together a little like memorial shelf in my room since I had her cremated. I don’t have the ashes or anything yet but I found this personalized urn I want to get for her. It’s very much out of my budget considering other bills I have to deal with so I just thought I would include my ko-fi if anyone would like to help with that. Again you do not have to! I will appreciate you endlessly if you would like to help me spoil my cat in her afterlife though, any amount is helpful!

Okay, this is super long I’m sorry! But yeah grief sucks and I hate it. Today was finally a somewhat better day for me though and I basically just hope you’re all having/had a good Thursday! (Sorry I made it kinda sad though) I’m going to continue rewatching stranger things now! Thank you all again for reaching out, sending you all my love ❤️

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thefaultinoursprinkles · 1 year

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I like. I need to process everything that’s been going on and I need to talk about how I’m feeling to be able to do that but I don’t.. want to I guess. I don’t want to bother people with my issues and I feel silly talking about how I feel. So then I think that I should go back to therapy so I have someone to talk to but I honestly really don’t want to unless it’s someone with a PhD because at this point I have as much education and training as a “mental health practitioner” and I’m about 2 years of internships away from an “LMFT” or other “licensed therapist”.

and that’s the other thing like, I’ve been in therapy for a long time, I’m a psych major, I did DBT, I feel like I’ve gotten everything I can out of “therapy” basically. So then like pursuing therapy just to talk through my emotions feels stupid and like a pointless waste of money to me. But then I go back and forth like would it actually help? Am I avoiding this out of shame or not wanting to damage my pride? Or as a form of self harm? Or do i genuinely think I won’t get anything out of it? Idk.

a big part of it too is that a lot of the stressors like with money and stuff are temporary and therapy isn’t going to help them. Like not to talk highly of myself but I’m pretty self actualized and the majority of my problems/stressors stem from external factors like not having enough money or my fiancee trying to kill themselves or close friends dying or work being stressful, which like therapy isn’t exactly going to solve any of those problems. It’s just supposed to teach you the skills to deal with those kind of things or change them or tolerate them which like. I already have. So again, pointless.

Even then, the problems i do have outside of external stuff are ones that I’m pretty confident cannot be treated through therapy. Like I really think a lot of my issues stem from unmediated adhd, and like I have skills that I use and I have work arounds and hacks and whatever else that are supposed to help me manage it better but it doesn’t work. like I take the notes and I track the things and I put trash cans everywhere and have other people remind me of stuff like. I can get by. but every fucking day of my life I am so overwhelmed by everything at work and at home and in relationships and I feel guilty and embarrassed that I can’t do the things that should be so easy.

Like every few days to every few weeks I find myself exasperated and thinking “WHY CANT I JUST DO IT. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME. THIS IS SO SIMPLE. WHAT IS FUCKING WRONG WITH ME” and like on some level I know it’s because I have symptoms syndrome and it affects me but I feel like there’s nothing to do.

like I’m doing all the stuff I’m supposed to do, I’m doing all the stuff that therapists and counselors have told me to do and I’m doing all the stuff that is recommended in the DSM V and I stay up to date on the current research in the causes, management, and treatment of specifically adhd but also generally all psych topics because I’m just genuinely interested in them so I read peer reviewed journals for fun.

And there are some things like. Idk exercise. And I’m like oh I should exercise then I’m like well not “should” but I want to exercise because I know it makes me feel better and it’s been proven to help with focus and clarity as well as alleviate symptoms of depression. And then I find myself being like “I can’t I can’t I can’t” so they I think about it. Why can’t I? And it’s like well, I don’t have enough time, I’m always tired, blah blah blah. And I think really the root is that I don’t want to spend “my” time doing something I don’t like doing and I don’t have any way to do the exercises I actually like (like biking or swimming).

So then I get back around to like okay we’ll I’m not actually doing EVERYTHING I can I’m not exercising or watching my diet, I could be doing more. So then I try to plan out time to do it and I set reminders and then I fail and fail and fail and fail and give up.

And it’s like what is therapy going to do? I know they’re gonna tell me to sleep and eat and exercise and be mindful. I know I need to do those things and I want to do those things but I CANT and I don’t know WHY.

AND THEN I loop back around to like what the fuck is wrong with me I know I need to do these things I want to fucking do these things I LIKE doing these things SO WHY CANT I JUST DO IT WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME and it starts all over.

And how do you explain that to someone? I’m objectively successful. I’m well educated. I have a high paying job. I don’t get into extreme legal or financial trouble. I have lots of very supportive and close friends and family. I don’t have the “right” things wrong with me to have people understand or recognize the struggle going on behind the scenes to do any of it. Like I know what to do, I do most of it, and it’s, by all accounts but mine, working well because I’m able to live independently and maintain relationships and hold a job and even get promoted at said job. So to any therapist I talk to it’s like. “Why are you here?” And I have to explain like yes I know I’m making it work I’m doing impressive things but I’m DYING I’m constantly stressed and overwhelmed and anxious and on the brink of a panic attack. I spend hours of my day staring at wall screaming inside my head about all the stuff I have to do but unable to do it. I’m smart enough to be really good at doing what I need to do to get by or knowing where to focus my efforts but I constantly feel like I’m in an out of control car spinning out with no brakes.

and I feel so stuck because I don’t know where to go from here. I don’t think there’s anything else I can realistically do to have a better handle on things, this is just the reality. Like I feel like I just need to accept that this is how it’s going to be and this is how it’s going to feel because I truly do not think there is anything that could possibly help me get out of this internal mess.

and of course, then I start thinking like, that’s pretty defeatist, am I giving up before I even try? So then I feel like, even more than before, i just need to try harder and do better and get further because it’s my own lazy ridiculous fault that im in this position in the first place.

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stop-weighting-for-change · 2 years

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UPDATE 8

Wow! So it’s been almost 2 years (like literally almost to the day) since I posted "Update 1″, and boy oh boy did a lot of shit happen.

- I went back to work - I never got that internship that woulda changed my life (oh well) - I’ve gotten to travel way more than I woulda thought possible 2 years ago (not the traveling itself, I love to travel and have access/ability to but moreso in terms of the pandemic/state of the world) - I still don’t have a great grasp on my depression. I know I have it. I know. And its definitely a rollercoaster but shit triggers me and idk what to do ya know? I end up feeling like a zombie. - I almost got my dream job. But didn’t. When I say dream job, I mean I have literally been dreaming about it since I was 12 or 13 years old. I reapplied when a reopening was posted but I think I’m just not meant to be. Like that scene in La La Land (god I love La La Land, like its my favorite movie of all time kinda love) when Mia is explaining that maybe her dreams will never pan out bc maybe shes not good enough? Or maybe she’s just one of those (many) people who has always wanted something but its just a pipe dream that needs to be moved on from. Its not like thats what I want, but its whats realistic and you cant be disappointed if your expectation is disappointment, ya know? - My sister moved out and I’m really happy for her but things seem to be happening for her and other people and it feels like everyone around me and I’m just stuck??? I’m not sure theres a better way for me to explain it other than that. Its no ones fault, but everyday of my adult like theres this slight, nagging feeling that my life is simply one long series of unfortunate events. And yes, good things are woven in and its not like everyday is some big, unbearable catastrophe but some days definitely are. I really don’t know how else to explain it. I think its beyond depression. I’d never hurt myself or someone else but I had this shit realization the other day that I don’t remember the last time I was like really, truly, unbelievably happy (not just with one thing, or day, or event) but like GENUINELY happy in life. And I don’t know that I ever will be again. Idk I sound so shitty rn. - I hate my job but love the people. I also have no other options in life it feels like. WHAT DO I DO?!

Anyways the absolute lunacy of the bullets above, I’m trying to move on in/through life as well as possible. And I wanna become better. In all facets. I gained a lot weight back. Which makes me angry and disappointed. My highest ever was 197 and the other day I was 195 again. Again. Can you believe that shit? My family while I love them are bad influences and have been for a really, really long time. I feel like I just give in bc 1) their expectation is that I’m fat and thats never gonna change so who are you kidding and 2) were all doing it (eating and being fat) so who cares? and 3) its like they think im judging them or being unfair to them when I wanna better myself. Idk. Its not intentionally malicious but the consequences feel dire.

SO ANYWAYS!!!!!!!! God I need to learn to shut up. I’ve lost 3lbs in the last week and back to 192. Slowly making progress but FOR REAL THIS TIME. And I know I said that last time, but circumstances are different and theres no more excuses.

On that note I’m gonna go to Safeway rn and go buy some fruit bc I’m hungry and if I wanna eat thats what I’m gonna let myself eat. I know I shouldnt starve but also eating like a piggly wiggly has so far gotten me no where.

I’m gonna end this here. This is therapeutic for reezie and I feel better just reflecting on this insane rambly episode I’ve just had. Yall pray for me for reezie and I shall be doing the same. LETS STOP WEIGHTING FOR CHANGE YALL!

P.S. My cat keeps walking across my chest and around the room yapping to be let out but I don’t get why he doesn’t get that I love him too much and I wanna be around him 24/7 bc he makes me feel better. But also he’s a cat and a dummy at that so I guess I should be happy he spends any time indulging me at all.

P.P.S. I, like the rest of the world, am in the middle of a Stranger Things Binge and volume 2 of ST4 was released today. V1 was released at the end of May but I waited til now to watch bc I wanted to rewatch and I wanted to be able watch all of ST4 at once and not have to wait which was deff the right call. I started V1 yesterday and finished it this morning and am now on ep 8 of 9 and idk WHAT I woulda done if I woulda had to wait a month to continue, like fuckkkkk that lmao. But anywho I’m gonna continue but I want some fruit to have so I’m gonna finish the other half of ep 8 and then ep 9 when I get back from the store (also holy shit ep 9 is apparently 150 mins???? thats 2 and 1/2 hours thats a fucking movie bro!!!!) but yeah. I’m lowkey stressed to finish it though bc 1) i lowkey dont like this whole steve/nancy plot. I know a lot of ppl do but I really like her w jonathan so yeah. and 2) I’m scared Eddie will die. He’s a really great character and I think hes really cute and its not fair that the worst has been assumed of him. I relate to that. I know some major character is expected to die in these final two eps and I really hope its not him, but also I really hope they were just lying to us bc I literally dont want anyone to die. I mean mike is prob my least fav but still i love mike and dont want him to die. also theres no way in hell theyd ever kill off finn wolfhard so thats an unrealistic expectation anyway. So heres to eddie, steve, and all those mfers bc I really do love this show and these crazy ass characters. But most of all, to my fav character, erica. BC YA CAN’T SPELL AMERICA WITHOUT ERICA BITCHHHH.

#weightloss #weight loss #weightlossdiary #thinspo #gettingstronger #getting stronger #getting healthier #gettinghealthier #losingweight #losing weight #feeling positive

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keefwho · 1 year

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February 19 - 2023

8:28 AM

I always pride myself for not listening to strangers’ negative opinions about me since they are never based on something meaningful. But on the flip side, I can’t enjoy positive opinions either for the same reason. Having a stranger tell me I’m valid as a person or something means absolutely nothing to me because they don’t know anything about me. This all feels like another thing that alienates me from other people. I don’t know if I’m supposed to care more about strangers’ opinions or if I’m fine where I’m at.

I have this bacon to cook still but I’m nervous to. I wouldn’t be as nervous if it had been stored properly on the way here. The problem isn’t that it’s raw right now. Its that I’m not totally sure how cold it stayed on the way home. It should be fine because it felt quite cool when it got here. It also wasn’t out for terribly long in general. But if I’m going to handle challenging food like this, I want things to be near perfect. I don’t want to throw the bacon out because I think it’s severely unlikely anything is actually wrong with it.

1:30 PM

Today I am lonely, bored, and sad. The perfect mix of things to foster anxiety about nothing, which I am also feeling. I’ve been thinking too much lately. Putting too much effort into trying to fix stuff like this. Sometimes I think it might be better to give up and not think about anything for a little bit.

3:10 PM

Im just admitting this to myself. I fucking hate myself right now and it prevents me from having genuine interaction. I don’t know what to do aside from isolate myself until I feel better. It only seems responsible, but only if I do it right. Why do I have so much trouble loving myself?

4:35 PM

I was starting to think I was the problem, then I remember I KNOW I’m the problem. I let one of my closest friendships die. Last night a friend was really depressed and I probably only made it worse. There’s a reason I can’t find people to hang out with on demand. No one wants to be around someone like me. Another friend is upset about something and my heart breaks if I had anything to do with it.

I’m afraid I am irreparably fucked up. Maybe I’m truly a bad person deep down. Maybe I don’t deserve friendship, companionship, or happiness in general. Maybe it’s all pointless.

8:41 PM

I sure have enjoyed wasting my entire evening being depressed beyond comprehension. I should message my friends but I don’t have the will or energy to do anything tbh. Another reason I’m a piece of shit I guess.

8:58 PM

On top of it all my tummy hurts. Im assuming it’s because of how I blew myself earlier but my temperature is also reading up to 99.1. Not a real fever by any means but I never read that high at this time while I’m chillin. Unlike last time my temperature read this high, I’m not really panicking. I’m slightly concerned but logic tells me that I can’t be “sick”. Where would I have gotten anything? Unless it was by extraordinary circumstances. I don’t have other symptoms either. My tummy is upset because of things physically moving through me in a way my body doesn’t like due to what I did earlier. The temperature is probably a fluke and all I can do is check it again in about an hour.

9:41 PM

The best way I can describe how I feel in times like this is soulless and empty. There are times where I feel in touch with myself but they are not often. More often I feel like I’m living a very fragile life. I have trouble believing everything is okay and I frequently imagine everything that can go wrong until I believe it’s my future. Today has been like that. All I can see are the negatives.

9:59 PM

I’m just MAD. At myself. Why am I so confused? I never used to be this confused about myself. Maybe I never knew who I was or wanted to be. Maybe thats why episodes of extreme sadness have been with me since high school. I know everyone gets sad but I get truly depressed. I have reached some very dark places and it’s all because something is wrong that has gone unsolved for so long. I feel like I’m in the middle of shattering everything I know about myself. I only hope it results in something better in the end.

Maybe I’m experiencing a form of ego death. Lately I have much less grasp on the things like I like and how my relationships are. I used to base everything on and cling to recent memories and significant older ones but now I feel like I have no history. I don’t like it because I enjoy honoring past experiences but I haven’t been able to do that lately. I feel like everything in my life requires constant upkeep to hold onto it, partly because I can’t seem to believe some things will stick around simply because I put the time in. Everything feels brand new and like I have to make a good impression.

10:34 PM

I tend to play by my own ruleset instead of feeling things out. Maybe I need to listen to my heart more. I suppress so much, even stuff that doesn’t matter. I’m always trying to do things “right” by my brain’s standard. I end up neglecting my true desires. But at the risk of sounding edgy, I feel like I’ve silenced my heart enough that it’s hard for it to speak up. I always have this problem. I don’t KNOW what I want. I feel no desire but it must be there.

12:18 AM

I realized today that I would unknowingly draw smut as a way to vent. I say unknowingly because what I thought was just horny posting was actually me channeling my feelings of worthlessness into degenerate content. Sometimes when I feel like that, I do horny stuff to escape or degrade myself. It feels good. I don’t even think it’s unhealthy, its just something I realized I do. I don’t see anything wrong with it.

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tsukidrama · 2 years

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the road not taken

{I Doubted If I Should Ever Come Back}

ᴀɴɴɪᴇ ʟᴇᴏɴʜᴀʀᴅᴛ x ғᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ / ᴄᴀɴᴏɴ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟɪᴀɴᴛ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢѕ: night terrors, manifestations of PTSD, references to (physical) abuse, suicidal ideation, angst, & hurt with very little comfort.

Chapter 9 - Bad Dreams 2: Electric Boogaloo

Summary: When Annie hits rock bottom, you're confronted with the realities of her childhood you don't like to think about.

cottagecanon | ao3 | wattpad | ♫

← Chapter 8 | Chapter 10 →

Word Count: 10.5k

Author’s Note: thank you all for being so patient! i truly adore the little community of fans this fic has attracted. it took me a little longer than usual to write this chapter because it was genuinely making me depressed irl - nothing too serious, but it was hard to depict the unhealthy headspace that reader is currently in. so happy this chapter is over! if you haven't read it yet, i started a companion piece that goes along with this fic. linking below.

off the beaten path

Annie looks at you with an amused smirk.

“I’ve been trying to tell you for weeks now,” you insist, “You just don’t believe me, still.”

She shakes her head. “Okay, so who is she, then?”

You falter. “Well, I’m not sure, actually…” you admit. Annoyingly, it only adds to the argument against you.

“...because she’s not real,” Annie finishes.

“No!” you protest yet again, “She was real, and she brought him a bunch of crap. You know how sometimes he comes home from town with a basketful of random shit?”

She nods.

You’ve been thinking about that encounter ever since it happened, and you’ve had time to formulate your own theories.

“She’s got to have some kind of a connection to the place where he gets that crap. Maybe they met there, or she works there,” you say, even though Annie looks disbelieving. “I think it would be a lot weirder if she didn’t have any connection to the stuff. Then I’d really be suspicious.”

At first, all she does is stare. After a few moments when you don’t back down, she laughs again – guffaws, really. It’s the most amusement she’s gotten out of something since she’s been back.

“You’re persistent, I’ll give you that,” she chuckles, and goes as far to wipe a tear of laughter from her eyes.

And again you groan. “I’m not making it up!”

She doesn’t even entertain the idea. Every time you try to bring it up she has the same reaction, barely giving you the time of day.

Eventually, you just drop the topic entirely. You do however stay on top of watching Papa a little more closely than usual. Unfortunately nothing of interest happens in those first few weeks.

However, it doesn’t take long for you to realize that the only person acting odd is Annie herself. One night during dinner, there’s a particularly worrying interaction.

“Could you pass the potatoes?” she asks. It’s the first thing anyone has said in a while, so it almost makes you jump.

Somehow in the time that she had been gone, you forgot that Leonhardt family dinner was a silent affair. On your own with either one of them, you could get them to open up. When it was you and Papa, you’d talked more during meals than you did anywhere else (maybe the barn, too, towards the end there).

That wasn’t ever your life. As a child, the dinner table was the center of the house. Dinner was a conversational affair, always. You would be asked about your day or about school. In the best years of your life, you would often sit at the table for hours, talking with your grandparents long after you had finished your plate.

But when all three of you are sitting at a table, it’s dead silent. They outnumber you and the silence wins. Before Annie left, you had gotten used to it. You’ll get used to it again in time. It went without saying that this was just the norm between the two of them, that Anine’s childhood had been spent in silent dinners.

It was really lonely. Especially considering that you had gotten used to otherwise. So whenever Annie stops eating and starts talking, it catches both of you off guard before you even hear what it is that she says.

“Do either of you ever think about where we’d be buried if we die?”

Papa’s eyes widen to the size of saucers. And shockingly, that happens to be one of the few things she could’ve said that leaves you too stunned to reply.

She looks back and forth between the two of you before she shrugs and looks back down. “I hadn’t ever thought about it before recently,” she mutters, “Warriors didn’t get graves.”

Her dad’s face is completely drained of blood. You realize that his hands are shaking when the fork in his hand trembles, then clatters against his plate. This reaction is what sets you in motion again to redirect the conversation.

“That’s not something that any of us need to think about right now,” you say decisively. “You and I are young and all three of us are healthy.”

Annie nods with her brow furrowed, like she hadn’t considered that before. “I know that. I was just wondering, really.”

Finally, Papa breaks his silence. “Okay, well, don’t,” he snaps, “Got it?” Despite the intensity that he says it with, it’s crystal clear that his emotion is coming from fear rather than anger.

She nods again to show her understanding, though she deflates a little bit as she goes back to pushing her food around her plate.

Nobody says anything for the rest of the meal, though the mood of the silence changes considerably after that. You’re on edge the whole time, mostly worried that one of them might lash out in pure emotion and the other misinterprets it for anger.

Is it lucky or unlucky that they both shove their feelings down? You swear that you watch the process of each of them controlling their facial expressions carefully before they revert back to apathy.

Neither of them cleans up their spot at the table. Papa stabs his remaining brussel sprouts and shoves them in his mouth, angrily stomping off out of the back door with his mouth full of food. At least he eats them – Annie stays at the table with you for another ten minutes, but she just continues to push her food into a different spot.

You want to ask her if she’s alright, but you also don’t want to make her feel like she’s made anything weird. For once, you’re not sure what you should say. All you can think of is the laundry list of things of things you want to avoid saying.

It takes so long and you come up so short that Annie is the one to finally break the silence once it becomes unbearable.

“Maybe he should get a girlfriend…” she mutters, “If that would make him chill the fuck out for once.”

You nod so that she feels like you’re on her side. What you really want to do is point out that maye he had a point to be concerned. It wasn’t like her to bring up the topic of death so suddenly, not since you’d left Paradis and the curse ended.

It didn’t feel like a good sign that she was talking about death from the start, but when you think about it compared to some of the stuff she’d said as a teenager you can’t find it in you to call her out. It doesn’t raise enough red flags with you that you’re particularly concerned about her state of mind, given the fact that she acts normal with you for the rest of the night.

She’s a little quiet maybe, but she’s as affectionate as always. After you both get ready for bed she lies down with a book, and you curl up on her shoulder reading along from the side. A few chapters in you feel yourself getting tired and falling asleep on top of her, and she’s attentive enough to wake you up just enough to reposition you comfortably.

There’s a smile on your face. The last thing you expect is for things to go off the rails, but of course life has a special way of kicking you in the ass when you’re least expecting it.

You sleep hard that night. It feels so safe when Annie’s arms are around you and the cats snuggle in, that you let your guard down. You’re so comfortable that you fall into a much deeper sleep than you intend to.

At some point, you’re roused from sleep, but the heaviness in your eyelids is too strong to resist. You’re vaguely aware of Annie moving beside you, but you shake off the disturbance and flip over to scoop Donut into your embrace. It’s actually only due to his claws sinking into your arm that you wake up all the way.

“Ah fuck, nice paws – no claws,” you chide him, removing each of the tiny daggers from your skin. “Damn it, please chill out, Donut…”

You open your eyes and sit up, losing your grip on the squirmy cat. He darts away, slinking into the shadows of the room. Only when you turn do you realize that you’re alone in bed – actually, you’re alone in the room, you realize when you glance around. Annie is nowhere to be found.

Ah, shit. Her weird comments about death and burial from earlier that night flash in the forefront of your mind and immediately, you fear the worst. You nearly leap out of bed to check the balcony and the bathroom, and any corner of the room where she could conceivably be tucked away in.

She’s not upstairs. There’s nothing out of place.

The only clue to her whereabouts comes from a sound down the stairwell. The door to downstairs is wide open, and something clatters like it was knocked off of a shelf or table to thunk on the hardwood floor.

Oh, no. Please, no.

Your heart is in your throat as you throw on some clothes. Please, please let her just be getting a snack downstairs. The Siamese yowls at you from the bottom of the steps, probably hungry herself. You shoo her away. There are clearly more pressing things than feeding the cats right now. Fucking cats…

The kitchen is empty with the inner door open and the screen door swinging in the wind. There’s a noise in the garden, a rhythmic thumping with an odd echo that reverberates between the three buildings surrounding the area. The bad feeling that’s pulling your guts down gets so much worse when you realize that ‘echo’ you’re hearing isn’t a reflection of another noise at al, but rather quiet sobbing.

More or less, you know what you’re walking into. Some kind of horrible nightmare manifesting in a weird way. Had she ever run out of the house before? You wrack your brains and the answer comes up no. She’s made it onto the balcony and even down the stairs, but never even onto the bottom floor, really.

Nothing that you couldn’t fix by just pulling her back into the room afterwards. Nothing that had overwhelmed you so much you don’t know how to handle it. All of that changes tonight.

She’s standing on the edge of the garden, kicking the shit out of the part of the fence next to the picnic table, the part that cuts out to divide the garden. She’s really pummeling the crap out of it, to the point where the wood begins to splinter. You notice that not only is she still in a sports bra and pajama shorts, but she’s also not wearing any shoes.

Her bare foot comes down on the fence and it breaks altogether. She rips the fence post out of the ground and throws it off to the side, then graduates to pulling at individual boards. Grunting with effort amidst her crying, she dismantles it piece by piece.

After the nose incident and talking about it was Papa, you know better than to intervene. Especially not when there are shards of wood and god knows what else flying around. So instead you remain at the bottom of the ramp crouched in shadow.

This was everything you were afraid of since she came back. You start to get a little overwhelmed by emotion, but you’re still not sure what she’s triggered about. Before you take action you need to know what you’re dealing with, to see what she’s having a nightmare about in the first place.

You try to get closer without making any sound. Annie isn’t talking, just crying, shouting every so often, but it’s not words. After she’s ripped apart the fence as much as it will budge, she kicks aside one of the chairs.

When she tries to get a new angle on beating the fence, she ends up backing up right into the tree, and from the sound of it, she smacks into it quite hard – you audibly wince at the thwacking noise her skull makes against the bark. Her crying grows more frantic, and you can finally hear what she’s saying clearly as she cries out to defend herself.

“No… I’m sorry. I wasn’t slacking off,” she whimpers, “I’m not taking a break… No sir! … okay, yes… I will.” Her voice shakes, and she falls to the ground as she scrambles away from the tree.

There’s no metaphorical expression that can describe the way it feels when it hits you. You might as well have been punched in the gut with the way it twists. You’re nauseous and dizzy and in shambles.

“I’m sorry,” she sobs, “I won’t do it again…”

Hearing those words coming out of her mouth fogs your brain up so badly that you just stand there stunned for a few moments. This is the one thing that you can’t handle, the one thing that breaks you more than anything else. No matter how hard you try, you can’t address this with a clear head.

Annie pulls herself to her feet, and all of a sudden to your horror, she kicks up one of the tomato plants. It goes flying through the air. In quick succession, she kicks down the entire row of plants. Bell peppers, then squash, then eggplants go flying in every direction. Some are entirely uprooted while others are kicked like a soccer ball.

She smacks into the tree again, and it triggers another episode of hysterics. The crying starts up anew, with another sputtering of apologies and half-coherent begging. “[more horrible dialogue]”

Half of it isn’t ready to harvest yet, not as if that matters to the nightmare. Cabbage, lettuce, kale, and cauliflower all go flying around and break apart on impact. Seeing her physically rip the garden to shreds is what tips you over the edge.

You swallow the sickness you’re feeling and slink along the fence as you creep toward the en suite. You can’t do this alone. Desperately, you wrap your knuckles against the glass of Papa’s window. It’s a lot louder than you anticipated so you duck into the shadows in fear that Annie heard you.

If she did, she doesn’t react to it. She continues screaming and kicking, spinning quickly on her feet amongst the destroyed plants. You start banging on the door now, rather insistently, until you hear rustling on the other end.

You keep knocking even when you hear him, though a little bit more softly. Only do you stop when you hear the lock disengaging.

The door creaks open and Papa peeks out groggily. He looks confused at first, but the second he registers that it’s you, the bleary look on his face disappears.

“What happened?” he asks, his gaze sharpening.

You can’t even get any words out. As soon as your mouth opens you just start sobbing. Papa is expectedly taken aback by it. His eyes widen, though by his standards you know he’s trying to control his face. He reaches out for you but then freezes in place, unsure of what to do, and flounders for a moment.

His expression grows unreadable as you watch the worst-case scenarios flash in his mind. He looks genuinely worried as he swallows hard. You can literally the recollection of her weird comments at dinnertime dawn on him, and worry floods his expression, “...she’s not?”

“No, not like that,” you blubber, “but I didn’t know what to do.”

Eventually, you manage to point out in the garden as you choke on another sob. Finally, it seems to sink in for him what’s happening when Annie once again bumps into the tree and shrieks, sobbing and promising that she’ll do better.

When you turn, you see that she’s back in the middle of the garden ripping plants straight out of the ground and hurling them against the side of the barn. Dirt splatters against the red painted wood, noisily thunking with each collision.

You look back to Papa to see his reaction. Maybe you shouldn’t be surprised by the blank look on his face, but you are a little disappointed. Right now, you need him to be there for you. Well, what are you expecting from him exactly? After all, it is Papa. You feel bitter tears forming in your eyes as you start to realize it might be a futile effort.

A shower of dirt rains down from a few feet away. You jump in surprise, whirling around to see that Annie’s aim has now reached the en suite. Some onions thud against the bricks again, and this time the dirt that flies off hits the both of you.

Only the third time do you realize that Papa is somewhat frozen. A hard handful sails across the garden directly toward you, and all of a sudden the instincts you learned during that annoying month and a half where deflecting random shit became a regular thing for you. Soil rains down all over your body but you manage to successfully block whatever vegetables – radishes, maybe? – that she’d hurled over.

Finally, it seems like Papa fully realizes that you need help. You cry out in shock and disgust, and the squealing as you try to shake off the dirt must bring him back into reality. He grabs you by the upper arm and yanks you inside his room before the next vegetable comes flying by a few seconds later.

He shuts the door and all at once, every emotion hits you at once. It’s like as soon as you’re physically separated from the event, you start to process it. The full effect of seeing Annie in this worst-case scenario, your inability to deal with it, the fact that you had to admit that, and the fact that you’re hiding when you feel like she needs you.

You completely lose your shit. Tears flow down your face as you blubber hopelessly. “I should’ve brought her back to bed before she was able to make it out here. I usually wake up – I don’t know how I slept through it. Is this my fault?”

“Stop that right now,” he demands, placing a hand on your shoulder, “No way this is your fault. This isn’t your mess to clean up. You were right to come to me, okay?”

You start out sniveling, balling your hands up into fists so hard that your fingernails dig into your palms. Words don’t come out.

“Did she hurt herself?” he asks seriously. His grip on your shoulder unintentionally tightens.

Immediately, you shake your head. “Not beyond whatever she did to the fence. Maybe some bruises… I don’t know. Nothing intentional, if that’s what you’re asking.”

And though Papa looks a little bit relieved, he’s still very tense. Right now he looks older than you’ve ever seen him.

Your lip trembles as you try to say more, but what ends up coming out is so shaky that it’s nearly inaudible. “I just… god, I feel so fucking useless. I can’t help her.”

“You’ve done a lot for her already, more than anybody else ever has,” her dad tells you, and he begins to shepherd you towards the nearby armchair. “More than I ever have, too. You never should have felt responsible for this burden. This is all on me. I need to know that you understand that.”

More tears overwhelm you. Papa stops trying to guide you when you start to stagger. Instead, he just pulls you into a hug.

Something broken inside of you cracks further as emotions you didn’t realize you still had come back to haunt you. You feel terrified and inadequate and like you should have done something different, or better. Is he sure that this isn’t your doing?

The choked-back emotion suddenly becomes too much, and once again you’re sobbing. “No,” is all you’re able to get out this time, “no, no.” You say over and over again. Your vision tunnels and your limbs go weak as you start to hyperventilate.

“Yes,” he tells you, firmly, “You’ve done a good job for a long time. Do you hear me?”

You nod, out of instinct more than anything. It doesn’t feel like you’ve been doing anything at all. Maybe you just don’t know how to accept praise anymore.

He pats your head affectionately, albeit a bit awkwardly. “I want you to try and let this go after tonight…It’s time I took responsibility for my actions. It’s my fault after all. There’s nothing you can do to help her.”

Whatever endorphins that the hug releases in your brain are enough to physically calm you down enough that you can breathe a little easier. “So what am I supposed to do then?”

“All you need to do is stay here in this chair. I’ll come to get you when it’s over.”

Before he releases you, Papa sighs. He waits until your sobs have calmed before he lets you go with a comforting pat on your back, and then he guides you down into the large cushy armchair next to his dresser.

He takes a moment to grab a blanket from the trunk at the end of the bed. He unfolds it halfway before draping it around your shoulders. It’s a little bit haphazard, but the gesture is received all the same.

Now that you’re a little calmer, you let yourself relax. He adjusts the blanket around you to tuck you in, then pushes your hair out of your face.

“Stay here,” he repeats. He looks at you with more concern in his eyes than you’ve ever seen before as he tries to read your expression.

You sigh, and the remnants of your sobs rattle your breath. Eventually, you nod your head.

“Okay…” you agree, and then nervously add: “Don’t take too long.” You’re not sure where it comes from.

Papa nods, and his eyebrows knit together with emotion. “Of course not.”

You hadn’t realized you’d had so much tension in your body still until it releases. You slump down in the chair and release a sigh – also one you didn’t realize you’d held in.

Whenever he rises back up to his feet, he lets out an old-man grunt of effort. He hasn’t even gone outside yet and it’s obvious that he’s exhausted. Not that you can blame him, of course. And though you’d stopped counting after a while, just a few months had run you ragged. What must it be like to have your existence whittled down to the worst things you’ve done, no matter how hard you try and fix the mistakes of the past?

It’s not like he doesn’t deserve it. He certainly reaps what he sows, but regardless you don’t envy the twenty-something-odd years of baggage that he’s carried with him all this time. He’s dug himself a hole so treacherous that he’s the only one capable of navigating out of it unharmed at this point. It must be daunting.

Before he leaves, he takes a moment to pull himself together. You don’t think he knows that you can see around the blankets based on the way he lets his facade crack. His face visibility breaks as emotions overcome him. He takes a moment to compose himself, wiping at his eyes viciously and pushes down all his feelings.

You recognize it all too well – of course that’s where Annie got it from.

It makes you so genuinely sad to see Papa struggling that it sends you into another bout of hysterics. You hold it in just as long as it takes for him to leave, but as soon as the door closes you make no effort to quell your sobs anymore.

The moment that you let the flood loose, you’re swept away in it. It’s overwhelming in the worst possible way.

You’re plagued by the uncertainty you feel, and for a moment your brain runs wild.

Is this really what this life has turned into? Is this actually happening to you right now? It started out so idealistic and felt so right… How could something so genuine have devolved into something that feels like a nightmare of your own? Sometimes you wonder if that’s all this is – maybe Annie was never the one with the issue. You’re the one stuck and you can’t escape. If you squeezed your eyes shut tightly enough, then maybe you can force yourself to wake up.

Wherever, whenever you end up has got to be better than this. The things you’ve experienced in the past were objectively worse than having your girlfriend freak out on you… But it really wasn’t just that anymore, was it?

It started before she even left, you realize. The first time you felt this way was when she found out she had to go back to Paradis. You’d been so afraid that you were going to lose her that you couldn’t recognize that she was already gone.

She was gone the minute she knew she’d have to go back. You put your best effort forward and still, you watched as she slipped through your fingers.

How the fuck could that NOT be your fault? How could you not blame yourself?

It feels like the life you’ve spent so much time and effort building out here might fall apart, and you’re sickened that it makes you nostalgic for the time she spent in the crystal. At least back then, you didn’t know what it was like. Now that you’ve experienced a taste of the domestic happiness you wanted so badly with her for all those years, you can’t imagine living without it.

You’re not entirely sure what exactly scares you so much. It’s not like you’re going to be kicked out onto the street. Annie is more than your significant other, she’s your everything. When something happens to you, she’s the first person you want to tell. You tell her everything. She’s the only person in the world who knows everything about you, and you’re the only one who knows everything about her.

For so long you turned to one another for comfort and validation. Even just for attention – basic social needs. All three of you have a lot of time on your hands out here. A few months ago she would happily chatter on about this or that project she wanted to take on, or explain whatever she’s been working on to you.

It feels like she never talks to you anymore. Not only that, but you hardly even see her doing the things she enjoys. She stops painting, stops carving. It was noticeably concerning, but every time you try to point out that she’s clearly not okay she just brushes you off. Asking her any questions about how she feels gets the same reaction as if you’d tried to pull teeth.

So badly do you miss the days where she’d come to find you from across the cottage just to tell you about the plot twist in her book, or to show you something she found in the grass or from the garden. She hardly ever even looks at you anymore save for when you specifically get her attention.

Even when she does listen, her eyes are vacant like she’s hardly paying attention. For the first time in years you feel like she doesn’t want to be around you. These days you get more from Papa than from her. It really fucking sucks.

You miss her. You miss the life that you’d had out here, and you don’t understand why she’s gotten so depressed or what you could possibly do to help.

After the worst of the panic passes, despair ebbs into curiosity.

You could try and pretend like it’s for some greater purpose, that you’re listening so you can know how to better help them – after all, even if Annie was talking to you she won’t remember anything, and Papa has never been forthcoming. But honestly, that’s not why you end up choosing to snoop.

It’s really not any more complicated than you being nosy, in the end. The context of Annie’s nightmare alone tells you what to expect from the interaction, but you want to listen in for yourself. You feel like you need to hear this.

You’re not entirely sure why. Maybe it’s just the fear you might regret not finding out, in the end, that pushes you to get up. You keep the blanket around you snugly as you stumble to your feet and over to the door.

Quickly you realize that the only way you’ll be able to hear anything outside from there is if you crack the door. The wood is just too thick. You’re worried that if you do that, Papa will notice. It doesn’t seem like a risk you’re willing to take.

Instead, you waddle across the en suite into the bathroom. There, you feel a little safer away from the glaring yellow lamplight. Just the moon lights up the bathroom, dimly, and even though the glass still distorts the sound from outside, you can already tell that it’s a better option than listening from the door. You have a clear view of what’s going on in the garden.

The first thing you noticed is that Annie has escalated to projectiles. The wooden stakes holding up beans and fruit bushes have been thrown like javelins, buried in the soil with severed vines still wrapped around some of them. Luckily, she seems to have exhausted her supply at this point. In fact, it doesn’t seem like there’s anything left for her to use at all.

You undo the latch on the window slowly so it stays quiet, and silently push the window open so that you can finally discern the mumbles. You hear grunts of effort from Annie and the sound of blows landing, then the splintering of wood. You can’t see either her or her dad, but you’re not sure you want to.

Maybe this was the world telling you that this is your chance to stop before your feelings get hurt. Maybe Papa had been right and you should have just stayed in the chair where he’d left you.

No, it’s too late for that now. You’ve already seen the damage. Your heart is in your stomach.

Quite literally, there’s nothing left. Nearly all the plants are ripped up or somehow broken. You can’t even see her at first glance, but you’re so overwhelmed that you can’t bring yourself to look.

All of a sudden, you change your mind. You abandon the idea of snooping and run to lean against the sink.

Tears flow down your cheeks despite trying to hold them in. It’s all too much, this night, everything about it. It destroys you that it’s happening at all, and the fact that such old wounds were still literally destroying aspects of her life. The poor garden…

It was the heart of the home, both literally and figuratively. It connected the three buildings physically, and from the flowers and shrubs lining the fences to the garden that you eat from, it was by far the most closely-tended bit of land. It was beautiful and important to all three of you, and now it was completely and totally wrecked. There was nothing usable. No harvest to be salvaged, nothing to sustain you anymore.

It wasn’t like you would starve or anything. You go to the market on a regular basis and you could just buy more food. It was the emotional aspect of losing everything that you worked so hard to build here with her. Right now you couldn’t even try to find a bright side. The depression overtakes you and you let yourself collapse in front of the sink in tears.

What you want to do is embrace the emptiness. You wish you could lie down on this cold tile floor and dissolve. The wind will sweep away your body bit by bit as it erodes mountains and boulders. Tiny little pieces of you will scatter one atom at a time until you’re everywhere and everything. You’ll be strewn throughout the world in a million places at once, and most importantly, you won’t be in pain anymore.

Even then, when you’re nothing, would you feel as lost as you do right now? This isn’t good or evil. There’s no moral decision to come to terms with, and maybe that’s why you struggle so much. You can still make a choice that will push Annie away even if you have the best intentions.

You have nothing to win. In every scenario, you lose. Right now it feels so suffocating like there's no possible way out.

Are you supposed to fix this, when it's so behind hope? What you wouldn't give for anything else to be happening to you right now.

A high-pitched shriek from outside snaps you out of your thoughts. It’s clearly Annie – you don’t even have to hear her speak to recognize her voice. You go back to peer out the window, and somehow you will yourself to look past the wreckage. Desperately, you search for movement or a familiar silhouette.

Annie cries out again, and the noise aims you in the right direction. She’s on her hands and knees close to the barn, scrambling backward in the dirt, flinging debris left and right as she tries to avoid her dad.

“Get away from me!” she screams.

Papa stands with his hands up in defense about fifteen feet away. “I haven’t moved any closer,” he points out.

It doesn’t seem to matter. She tosses a handful of ripped-up leaves and broken stems in his direction. “I said to get away from me!”

He sighs, but he doesn’t flinch when plants shower on top of his nightclothes. He doesn’t even bother to brush them away. He just stares ahead with no expression.

“If I stay where I am, will you stop throwing things?”

She looks in both directions like she’s considering her options, and shrugs after a few moments.

“Probably not,” she admits.

Papa laughs, a little dryly.

“Thanks for your honesty. If it makes you feel better, keep at it,” he says apathetically. He goes as far as to roll something toward her with his foot – maybe lettuce, or a head of broccoli? – from this distance, you can’t tell.

Annie accepts the ammunition, holding it aimed, locked, and loaded. “I will not hesitate to throw this at your face,” she threatens.

All he does is stand there. “That’s fine. You can throw it.”

She winds herself up, cocking the vegetable above her shoulder, ready to hurl it. Now it sounds like she’s about to cry.

“I’ll really do it!” she shrieks, her voice getting more desperate.

Once again, her dad puts up no fight. “Okay.”

The vegetable sails through the air, revealing itself to be broccoli as it shatters against his shoulder and flies in every direction. He barely flinches as he absorbs the entire impact of the blow, just takes it. All he does is stagger backward a few steps.

Even from here, you can tell how hard of a collision it was, but Papa makes no sounds of complaint or pain. He holds his shoulder, though he still stands.

There’s a long silence so oppressive and thick that you struggle to breathe.

“So, is it helping?” he asks eventually. His voice isn’t angry or resentful, just weary. He’s sad, worn by so many years of regret, just now accepting the reality that this is where she’s ended up.

There’s more crying and grunting from Annie on the other side of the garden, who now drops to her knees as she scrambles to find something else to throw.

“Get it all out, there’s another pile on your left.”

Quickly she finds the aforementioned ammo sitting a few feet over. A chunk of potatoes, roots, and dirt smacks into his stomach a few moments later. You hear an audible grunt on impact afterward. It’s not as hard of a blow, but even from across the yard it’s clear that he’s struggling to keep himself upright. Yet Papa doesn’t let himself wobble and remains as tall as he can manage.

Just seconds later, an eggplant hurtles end-over-end to smack him right in the head. You gasp, expecting him to be hurt. Maybe it’s in the shock but he doesn’t seem to react to this blow at all. He stays there hunched over for a few moments as the garden goes quiet.

Luckily, after this third throw, Annie gives up on attacking. She can’t seem to find anything in the general vicinity and it visibly overwhelms her. She buries her face in her hands, and defeated, she collapses to the ground.

You watch with bated breath, not sure what to expect. The silence and stillness put you at unease. This is a loud and tumultuous affair and it doesn’t make sense. There’s a long moment where Papa just stands there, seemingly stunned. You’re right at the moment when you’re asking yourself why he isn’t doing anything when he finally does.

Slowly and deliberately, he starts to make his way over to her. He keeps his distance at first and when he gets close enough for her to be aware of him, he calls out. “I’m coming closer now. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I’m not taking a break! I’ve been training this whole time,” Annie pleads, terrified.

He sighs heavily. “I don’t care about that anymore.”

“Wh– what?” Annie asks, her voice cracking.

There’s a long silence, and when he speaks again there’s a tremble in his voice that makes you feel even less sure than you already did.

“You don’t have to fight anymore,” he tells her, more firmly this time, “In fact, I think you’re long overdue to take a break.”

You can barely hear her with the way she’s crying, but at some point, you hear a word squeak out amidst the heaving. “Really?”

Papa nods as he walks a little closer. As he does, he blocks her from the view you have of her from where you sit.

“You can rest. You’ve done perfectly,” he says.

“...I have?”

Although you can’t see her anymore, you can still hear everything. You want to move again so that you can see them, but you’re also frozen in place.

“Yes. I’m proud of you, Annie. Rest, okay?”

You can hear in the way her breathing quickens that she’s getting frantic. “I – I don’t know how…” she admits.

Papa sinks down, presumably to his knees. “That’s alright. We’ll figure it out together.” A few long seconds pass before he asks: “Is it okay if I hug you?”

She doesn’t respond, but the fact that she doesn’t shove him away is enough. It’s so dark that you can hardly see what’s happening aside from the vague dark shadows of movement. You hear Papa wheeze as he sits down on the grass, then Annie starts crying more intensely a few seconds later.

“I’m sorry,” she says loudly after a few seconds.

Her dad says something in response, but it’s too quiet for you to hear. What’s left of the fence now obscures most of your view.

It’s not good enough. You’ve heard too much to back down now. Ever nosy, you back away from the window and walk back through the en suite. The blanket falls from your shoulders and onto the floor behind you.

The door handle clicks and disengages quietly, but then the door creaks as you push it open. Even though you were told to stay in the chair, you’re not really afraid of being seen. Most of the reason that you stay quiet is that you don’t want to interrupt.

You crouch behind the overturned table a few feet away to hide, willing yourself to be silent. You still can’t hear anything, so you hold your hand over your mouth to cover the sound of your breathing. Now that you’re closer the hushed whispers between them start to become audible.

It’s not just Papa talking, you realize. Annie is speaking in surprisingly full, coherent sentences. She doesn’t sound present, though. Her words are slightly slurred and empty of emotion, sleepily mumbled out.

“No, I’m not upset at all. You’re not in trouble right now.”

You glance around the edge of the table and catch a glimpse of Annie’s hair. Her face is buried in her dad’s shoulder, her voice so muffled that it’s barely audible. “I’m sorry. All I ever do is hurt people…”

Papa shakes his head.“That isn’t true. You have so much to offer the world and your family. You’re smart, and you’re strong. Not just your body, either. I’m so proud of the way that you take care of Y/N, and of me.”

As she curls in further, her eyes disappear out of sight. “But I’ve hurt you.”

“Well, I hurt you too,” he reminds her. His fingers scrunch up in her hair to comfort her as he holds her close. “It’s never something I’ve resented you for.”

She sniffles. “Really?”

“Of course not. I was always proud, even if it wasn't for the right reasons,” he says, “At first it was just because of how much progress you made, but after a few years I realized: you proved that day you won’t let yourself be treated poorly by someone who claims to love you. That wasn’t something I taught you, for sure. But it’s come to be one of the things I admire about you most.”

When he stops speaking for a moment, a silence so heavy and filled with uncertainty fills the air, that you’re grateful when you hear his voice again.

“I wish that you could have had a father in me before I sent you out into the world. I was too stubborn and proud. Because of it, we both missed out on so much. I’m the one who should be apologizing.”

Annie remains quiet. From behind the table, you're hit with another wave of emotions. The hand on your mouth tightens as your sobs threaten to burst out.

Papa continues on. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t a good father. I’m sorry that I thought it was enough to give you food and a home, and that I made you fight instead of letting you be a kid,” Papa’s voice starts to waver, but he continues on as his daughter sobs in his arms. “I’m sorry that I did things so wrong back then that you’re still hurting now. I wish I knew how to fix it… but sometimes it feels like it can’t be fixed. You have every reason in the world to hate me–”

“– no!” Annie interrupts, all of a sudden. It stops him dead in his tracks.

“That’s not true,” she cries, “I don’t hate you at all.”

Now it’s Papa’s turn to sniffle, left wordless. “Really?”

“Never. You’re my dad…”

You’re so upset that you throw up in your mouth a little bit. The first instinct you have is to choke it back down, but you’re so viscerally upset that you realize you’re genuinely about to hurl. It’s all you can do to aim away from the place where you’re sitting.

There’s a long silence after that, much longer than you’re comfortable with After you manage to pull yourself together enough to move, you once again peek your head around the table.

He’s not talking because he’s crying, you realize all at once. You had barely even heard Papa’s voice break before this – you’ve never seen him lose his composure, never seen him give in to vulnerability like this. His stoicism didn’t allow for such weakness, or so he thought. Now, it seems like he’s evolving.

“I love you, Annie,” he chokes, “I really am sorry. For everything.”

She mutters sleepily, hardly intelligibly: “Love you too.”

As she readjusts to a more comfortable position, you can see that the look on her face is finally peaceful. Tears still shine on her cheeks but she’s not crying anymore – it seems like she’s fallen back asleep all the way.

It seems like it’s over. You put your hand back over your mouth again to quiet yourself, terrified to move. At this point what you’re afraid of is interrupting such an insanely personal moment for Papa. The telltale sounds of crying still echo in the garden.

All you can think of is how you feel after Annie has a nightmare. You usually want to be left alone to wallow in your misery, so you want to respect his privacy if that’s what he wants, too.

Unfortunately, it seems like that’s not what he needs tonight.

“Y/N? Can you hear me?” he calls out after a few seconds, his voice still shaking, “I know you don’t listen. You’re out there somewhere, right?”

You freeze. Maybe it’s not too late for you to creep back inside and pretend that you stayed in the chair the whole time and that you hadn’t heard a thing. Though, any potential plan is quickly foiled when you step on something that cracks loudly – either a twig or some poor uprooted plant thrown across the yard.

Ah, shit, you think.

“I don’t care if you heard what I said,” he says. Immediately it relieves some of the uneasiness. He sighs, “but I don’t think I’ll be able to carry Annie inside by myself... I need your help to get up.”

Something in your gut twists at the admission. You don’t make the conscious decision to start moving, but before you know it you’re climbing to your feet. You stumble your way across the broken garden.

When you get to where Papa can see you, you freeze. You’re overwhelmed by your emotions again at the sight of him

“Come here, please,” he asks. You can see why he won’t be able to get up on his own; Annie is basically half-draped across him, leaning.

Her head is still on his shoulder, lolling now that she’s fully unconscious again. They’re both sitting on the ground, but all of the weight of her upper body is being supported by the fact that her arms are around his shoulders. He looks at you sadly and continues to stroke her hair.

Again you’re completely overwhelmed by emotion, and you can’t help but fling your arms around him. It throws him a little bit off-kilter, but you have enough balance to keep all three of you upright.

“I’m sorry…” you whisper. You don’t know what else to say, really. It occurs to you later that you could’ve thanked him, but when he’s crying the way he is you feel paralyzed.

To your surprise, he turns around and says: “I’m sorry to you, too.”

It catches you off guard. “Why?” you ask, and pull back so that you can see his face.

Papa shakes his head. “This is affecting you now, too. I wish I could take away this pain, for you both. It never should have existed in the first place.”

Your lower lip trembles as once again you feel doubt creeping into the back of your mind. This isn't your family, not really. You’re still the outsider. “You really don’t owe me anything.”

He rolls his eyes. Not maliciously, but because his arms are still in use. “It’s not about that. It’s my job to take care of you whether you think you need me or not. That’s what fathers do for their children, and the world has decided to bring me another daughter.”

A beat of silence passes. Tears start to form in your eyes as you realize the full weight of those words. Should you hug him again? Should you tell him what he means to you, too? It takes a moment for your brain to catch up.

“I love you too, you know,” he adds. It’s tacked on the end as if it’s a side thought. Like it’s not one of the most impactful things that an adult has ever said to you.

A million emotions hit you at once. Despite the fact that you’re physically holding everyone up, you yourself collapse. You can’t help it. Between what you’d witnessed and what he’d just said, you’re overwhelmed.

Papa’s hand on your back draws you back into the moment. He doesn’t let go of Annie, but he shifts most of her weight into one of his arms so that he can put the other around your shoulders. You’re conscious of his limitations as you lean into the group huddle, holding all of your own weight on your knees.

You take the opportunity to try and center yourself again, to calm some of your less rational emotions.

The three of you just sit there for a minute – well, it’s really just the two of you, since Annie is dead asleep. You sit there with one arm resting gently on her waist and your other around Papa’s shoulder.

Honestly, the only measure of how much time passes you notice is that it’s long enough that your knees go numb. It doesn’t feel real, any of it. For the dozenth time that night, everything hits you all over again.

Is this going to be the new normal? You look around at the destroyed garden from the destroyed rows to the splintered fences and realize that you can’t keep doing this to yourself. No matter how high the highs are, if this is what the lows are like… it scares you.

You need to believe that this was a freak occurrence, something that would never happen again. Yet the night she broke your nose you’d secretly hoped the same thing. As horrible as that had been, maybe you should have anticipated that it would get worse. It always does, after all.

It’s all just too much. This is so overwhelming, to be sitting in the aftermath of… whatever this is. This horrible, horrible nightmare come to life. There’s a part of you that wants to clean it up before the sun comes up so that you don’t have to face the hard truth in the light of day. Maybe if you avoid looking at it you can ignore that it’s happening.

You haven’t felt like this since the night your nose was broken. This time, however, you don’t have any physical pain to distract you from the gaping hole inside of you. Even after watching it, not even for the first time, there’s still a part of you that can’t comprehend that Annie was capable of hurting you. The broken nose was easy to rationalize as an accident, but this?

This is a really, seriously tangible difference. You can’t hide the trashed garden behind a layer of concealer and an upbeat attitude. You can’t make excuses to keep people away until you’ve got your shit together.

It’s bad this time, and the both of you know it. After he lets himself go for a moment, Papa sobers up, then sighs deeply.

“Can’t sit here forever. You can take her into my room if you don’t want to go up the stairs,” he offers, looking up at you guiltily. His expression says what he doesn’t - that he’d be the one carrying her if he could. That he wishes he didn’t have to ask for your help, either.

Gently, he transfers Annie into your arms. Together you both lower her onto the grass with as little turbulence as you can manage. You stand first, then extend both hands to Papa. He slowly rises to his feet with no lack of trouble, groaning and cursing all the while until you finally heave him up.

As he limps back across the yard into his room, you keep an eye on but you try not to stare. Instead, you consider the best way to carry her and try to judge how far you’ll have to go. She looks shockingly unbothered.

It’s a short enough distance that you feel confident in carrying her bridal style. You scoop her up underneath her shoulders and knees and lift. You stagger forward as you struggle to gather your balance, but once you stabilize, you’re able to power on.

Papa is holding the door to his bedroom open. By the time you stumble through the door, your strength is failing you. You drop Annie onto the bed a little harder than you intend to but she doesn’t seem affected by it. She stays in the exact same position she lands in, so you try to straighten out her body a little so she doesn’t wake up with a cramp.

For a while, you stay on the end of the bed to watch over her. You don’t pay much attention to anything besides watching the slow rise and fall of her chest until you feel a familiar weight around your shoulders. Again a blanket is clumsily wrapped around your shoulders.

You look up to see Papa standing above you with his arms out. He looks more broken than you’ve ever seen him.

As he did with Annie earlier, he approaches you cautiously: “Can I hug you?”

You’re not the same way they are. Maybe you never have been, but especially not after these past few months. He doesn’t need to ask. You don’t want to be asked. There’s this deep aching loneliness inside of you that gnaws at you – and maybe it just means that you’re soft like he always points out, but you want to be doted on unconditionally.

You can’t manage to verbalize a response. Luckily Papa picks up on what isn’t said by the way you weakly reach out to him with tears in your eyes. He sits down on the end of the bed to hug you.

This time, there are no tears left in you. You cry silently as you let yourself relax into the hug, gasping and shaking. It feels totally hopeless and like no amount of reassurance would help, though he does try anyway.

“It’s okay,” he says as he pats your back, “it’s over now.”

Instead of being a comfort, his words make the dread inside of you grow exponentially. Your breathing quickens, your vision blurs, and something in your chest grows tight and painful. Even though you know you’re panicking you can’t stop yourself from spinning out and letting your emotions get the best of you.

Papa sees your reaction and pulls you back by your shoulders. He extends one arm at a time to look you up and down – you’re a bit confused at first but also too overwhelmed to protest.

“Are you hurt?” he asks. It’s then you realize that he’s checking you for injuries.

You shake your head. “No, it’s not that. It’s just–” you break his gaze as you pull away. Your arms go limp at your sides. “It’s not over. Maybe it’s done for tonight, but what about the next time this happens? It’s only getting worse.”

Papa’s lips press together tightly. He considers your words for a moment before tilting his head in acknowledgment. The fact that he doesn’t verbally respond is enough to bring tears back to your eyes. It feels like his reaction is a confirmation that it’ll be horrible forever.

It leads you to spiral a bit. “It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair,” you spit, bitterly, “I don’t recognize this. She would never do this… Why is this happening?”

“I wish that I had answers for you,” he tells you, “you know that I would take away her pain if I could.”

You nod, and as you start to cry again, Papa finally catches on that you need wordless instinctive comfort. He puts his hand on your shoulder.

“It’s going to be okay,” he repeats.

“–is it, though?” you ask. It’s hard not to let yourself spiral, but you do your best to hold it together.

“I hope so,” he says, though he sounds uncertain. He sighs. “Sometimes I worry that my being here is hurting her.”

You look up at him. “What do you mean?”

“Do I even need to explain after what we both just saw?”

“No…” you admit, but you recall the many conversations you’ve had about the subject. “She needs you, too. She’s wanted you here from the start.”

Papa shrugs. “Hmm. Annie doesn’t always know what’s good for her.”

He’s right, but you still feel the need to defend her. “That’s not fair. She doesn’t know how.” Your lower lip trembles. “For so long she couldn’t accept that she has feelings like everyone else. She’s only just figured out how to be honest with herself.”

“I’m not disagreeing with you. If she can be honest, then maybe it’s time for her to reevaluate what she wants.”

All you can do is stare at him. “What the hell are you saying? It would be so much worse if you weren’t here. What am I supposed to do without you?”

“You saw what happened tonight,” he says sadly, “I’ve never seen her like this before. I’m worried that she needs more help than the two of us can give her by ourselves. We can’t keep doing this – not like this.”

What you want to do is argue. He was the only person who could have possibly talked her down tonight. You couldn’t have done a thing for her and more than that, you couldn’t even bring yourself to go near her.

You get why Annie wants him here. Nowadays, you need a parent just as much as she does.

“I can’t take too many more beatings like that at this age,” he cracks a smile to try and break the tension, but it doesn’t work. Quickly, his face falls again. “More than that, look at you. When is the last time you slept through the night? You keep denying the toll this is taking on you but I can see how much it weighs on you. Neither of us can keep going like this.”

He’s right, and you know it. The stakes are too high, and all the events from the night had done was put that into perspective. You knew that it was only a matter of time before things escalated. Is it really worse than you imagined it to be, or was it always going to be hard to watch no matter how it happened?

It was bad, but you already knew that. Until now you were able to rationalize a million different reasons as to why you bottled up your own feelings. It only made things worse for everyone.

You let out a defeated sigh as more tears roll down your cheeks. “All I’ve ever wanted is to make Annie happy.”

He puts his arms around your shoulders.

“I know you do, but we clearly haven’t been doing any favors for her lately,” he says, surprisingly gently. “Something needs to change.”

“So what are we supposed to do, then?”

“I have no idea,” he admits, “but right now I think we should sleep. It’ll be hours until the sun comes up.”

“You’re tired?”

“Down to my bones,” he nods wearily, “and so are you.”

He’s right. Your eyes feel like sandpaper, but you groan in reluctance.

Papa nods sympathetically, and re-wraps the blanket around you more snugly. “Lie down, Y/N, you need the rest.”

He sits down in the chair a few feet away with his arms crossed. Immediately he closes his eyes and goes dead silent, and it genuinely seems like he’s already fallen asleep.

You feel too guilty letting him sleep without saying something more. Surely he knew how much you appreciated him, and especially so after tonight… the part of you that was raised right can’t bear to not show some kind of gratitude beyond what goes unspoken.

“Thank you for your help tonight… and I’m sorry.” Even though you try really hard to keep your voice even, it breaks anyway.

Papa sniffs. “Of course,” he says, “I’m sorry, too.”

You know that if you look up and see him crying that it’ll push you over the edge again. So badly you don’t want to break down again, that when more tears inevitably come, you just let them drip down into your hair as you stare blankly at the ceiling. Something deep inside of you aches.

“I don’t want to lose the two of you,” you mumble in the midst of your existential dread.

Papa doesn’t say anything, and for a moment you think he’s fallen asleep. Then you hear a heavy sigh float across the room followed by the comforting rumble of his voice.

“Get some sleep, kid. We’ll both still be here when the sun is up.”

You nod. After a few minutes of silence, you roll onto your side to look at Annie and push her hair out of her face. For a long while, you sit there staring at her and thinking.

It makes you feel better to know that Papa is just as clueless as you are. You don’t want to be alone in this struggle. And even though you still feel absolutely horrible, you also feel slightly less alone. It was too much to handle on your own.

All you wish is that she didn’t have to fall so low.

In the end, if you sleep again that night at all, it’s so fitful you don’t even realize it. For a while, you close your eyes just so they won’t get so dehydrated.

You wish you’d slept. Maybe it would have made you make better choices.

At some point, birds start to sing and the sun begins to rise, dusking the windows and casting a pale light in through the bathroom. It’s around then that you start pulling yourself together and shoving everything down.

It’s too much, too out of your control. Maybe there’s nothing you can do for her anymore, but you’ll be damned if you let yourself break down in front of her. It’s the worst possible choice you could’ve made, but you unhealthily rationalize that it’s better to put up a front.

It doesn’t even occur to you at the moment how hypocritical it is, and when it hits you later you just bottle it up even harder. It makes you feel like shit – you know how it feels to be lied to and it’s not something you’d ever bring upon her. And even though you recognize it’s an issue, it feels like the right move.

But this is different, right? You’re doing it to protect her, and it never occurs to you that maybe Annie had thought the same thing

By the time she begins to stir, you’ve plastered a fake smile on your face so convincingly that even to you it feels genuine. You don’t know what to do, but making her feel guilty can’t do anything but make the situation worse. Even if it’s to your detriment, you’ll keep pushing through.

#please yell at me. please come into my inbox and insult me/call me names tell me that i'm evil.#i think i will die if this gets posted and there's a quiet reaction #i told y'all i was nervous about this one. aaughg h please come vent to me i need reassurance this chapter (don't we all? sorry by the way)#anyway so part of why i spent so much effort trying to get people to care about papa in the past couple of chapters #is so that y'all won't read this chapter and be convinced he's completely irredeemable. he is soooooo flawed but im fixing him 😠#and im not done fixing him yet #TLDR TALK TO ME #annie-isms #the road not taken #trnt annie #cottagecanon #writing for my wives #annie leonhardt #annie leonhardt x reader #annie leonhardt imagine #annie leonhardt x you #annie x you #annie leonhart #annie leonhart x reader #annie leonhart x you #annie leonhart imagine #snk x reader #aot x reader #snk #aot #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #annie leonhardt headcanons #annie leonhart headcanons

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storiesforallfandoms · 3 years

Text

small world ~ corpse husband

word count: 2053

request?: yes!

“Can I get a Corpse x fem reader where reader an corpse are both streamers and they meet each other for the first time and realize they used to know each other as kids? I know Corpse has said that he didn’t have many friends when he was younger so maybe have it where reader was someone that was really nice to him? Sorry for the long request and thank you if you do it! 😊🖤”

description: he never would’ve thought that the new addition to their friend group would be someone from his past

pairing: corpse husband x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

“Hey Corpse,” Karl said. Corpse hummed in response, focused on the drawing he was doing for their Jackbox game. “(Y/N) is also from San Diego. Do you know her?”

(Y/N) chuckled. “Karl, San Diego is pretty big. We’re not bound to know one another. Besides, just because he lives here doesn’t mean he grew up here.”

“I did grow up in San Diego actually,” Corpse said. “I don’t think we would’ve known each other though. Even if we happened to be in the same area, I didn’t talk to many people and I dropped out in the seventh grade.”

“I was, regrettably, popular in school,” (Y/N) added.

“Regrettably?” Karl asked.

“Yeah. Looking back, I hated being popular. I hated it when I was popular even. My friends were mega jerks and made fun of everyone, even me sometimes. I would try and make them be nice but they just let the popularity go to their heads. I haven’t spoken to any of them since we graduated. There was this sort of outcast in middle school I used to have a crush on. I tried to be friends with him, but he preferred to keep to himself. I always wished I had been friends with him because I feel like I would’ve been so much happier. I never saw him again either. I wonder whatever happened to him.”

Something about her story triggered a memory in Corpse. The year before he dropped out, there was a girl in is class who was always nice to him and tried to talk to him. He brushed it off as another way he was being made fun of. When it kept up, though, he realized she was likely being genuine. He still kept his distance, but he found himself gaining some feelings for her as well. When he dropped out, he never heard from her again.

I wonder where she is now, Corpse thought to himself. Man, what was her name?

Corpse accidentally gasped, drawing the attention of everyone in the Discord call.

“You good Corpse?” George asked.

“Y-Yeah,” Corpse responded. “Just uh...just realized I fucked up my idea a bit. No big deal, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

The game started prompting for everyone to show what they had created. Taking the opportunity of not having to speak, Corpse went to Google (Y/N)’s YouTube channel. She had come into the game as a friend of Karl’s and Corpse hadn’t heard of her channel, but now somethings were starting to click together.

The first thing that popped up with the top Google Image for (Y/N)’s channel name. It was a beautiful girl laying in a garden of flowers with a wide smile on her face. Corpse sucked in a breath as he realized that the girl in the picture looked familiar.

“Corpse,” came Karl’s voice, snapping Corpse out of his trance. “It’s your turn.”

“Sorry,” Corpse said. “I was distracted.”

The rest of the stream Corpse felt like he was in a daze. He continued to play the games and forced out laughs when he realized someone was making a joke. Every time (Y/N) spoke, he felt his heart flutter with excitement. He couldn’t believe that after all these years he had finally been reunited with her. And what was better was that she had actually admitted to having feelings for him too!

Don’t get too excited, he thought to himself. She said she used to have a crush on you. That was a very long time ago.

He tried not to seem too eager when the stream finally ended. He waited for someone else to leave the call first before he exited out of it himself. He waited another few minutes before messaging (Y/N) directly on Discord.

hey. it was fun playing with you tonight. weird request, but can we voice call maybe? just the two of us?

Corpse didn’t expect her to respond any time soon. It was late in San Diego, like nearly 3am late. Most people were going to bed by now. She had mentioned once during the stream that she was starting to get sleepy. He figured she’d see it in the morning and either call, or just ignore the message.

To his surprise, near seconds later, she was calling him.

“Hey stranger,” she said when he answered. “Long time, no speak. You must’ve missed my voice a lot, huh?”

Corpse chuckled. “Exactly, I really did.”

“Makes sense. I do have the best voice on the internet.” She laughed this time. It sounded like such a perfect sound. “For real though, is everything alright? Why did you want to call?”

How did he even tell her? Hey, so you know that outcast you liked? It was me! Surprise!

No, he couldn’t say that. Maybe she wouldn’t even remember, or maybe she wouldn’t believe him. He had to figure out some way to bring it up.

“I kind of wanted to talk more about your popular school days,” he said, trying to keep his voice light and teasing. “It’s not every day I meet a streamer who’s in my own area code. It would be nice to get to know someone who isn’t like a five hour drive away.”

“Oh!” She seemed excited by this response. Her excitement was almost contagious. “Okay, where should I start? The shitty friends or the shallow popularity?”

Corpse chuckled. “You pick.”

She talked for nearly an hour about her high school experiences with her popular friend group. Despite how much she despised being popular, (Y/N) still spoke with a light tone in her voice. She tried to bypass a lot of the more negative details and speak only of the good experiences she went though, which was nice to hear.

Corpse nearly jumped with excitement when she began to talk about middle school unprompted.

“It really was the last good years I had in school,” she admitted. “All my friends, the ones who went on to be super popular with me, they were nice then. Annoying, but all middle schoolers are. We didn’t care about popularity or social rankings. We were just...we were just kids. We didn’t even really know the difference between ‘losers’ and ‘popular’, which was why it was so easy for me to talk to that guy that I liked at the time. My friends weren’t mocking me for having feelings for an outcast.”

“You said you never saw that guy again,” Corpse said. “Do you know what happened to him?”

She sighed heavily. “No, I don’t. He just stopped showing up before we hit high school. I thought he moved, but I knew his mom and I saw her around everywhere. I don’t even remember his name anymore to look him up. Wherever he is, though, I hope he’s doing better. Even if they weren’t sucked completely into their popularity at the time, my friends and the other kids were still awful to him.”

“I feel that,” he said. “I wasn’t exactly the most liked kid in school. Before I dropped out I didn’t even have any friends.”

“That’s awful.”

“It wasn’t too bad. I’m not really a friendly person I don’t think. I’ve worked on it since that time, but the thought of trying to maintain a social relationship still gives me anxiety from time to time. There was one girl who tried to be friends with me the year before I dropped out though. She was nice.”

“What happened to her?”

Corpse smiled to himself. She would figure it out soon, he knew she would.

“I just didn’t hear from her after I dropped out,” he responded. “I guess that’s mainly my fault. I never reached out to her or anything, but I barley knew her name. Just her first time, and she never gave me a number or anything. I couldn’t look her up online. Maybe we just weren’t destined to be together.”

“I don’t know about that. Maybe you two were just right people, wrong time. Maybe you’ll cross paths again and finally have that opportunity to be friends with her again.”

“Maybe you’ll cross paths with that guy from your middle school, too.”

There was a prolonged silence. Corpse wondered if (Y/N) was starting to put the pieces together. He could barley even hear her breathe. The longer she went, the more worried he was becoming. He was about to say something when she finally spoke again.

“I made him a Valentine,” she said, her voice soft. “Special handmade one. He was the only one I gave it to. It had some really badly written, sappy poem in it. I watched him open it and...I really think he got emotional while reading it. Of course, he’d never tell anyone that.”

Corpse had gotten emotional over the Valentine (Y/N) had given him. It was the first real Valentine he had ever gotten. It wasn’t one of the generic ones that everyone gave out to every classmate so no one felt excluded. It was made from the heart, and that fact alone touched his. Like (Y/N) said, though, he didn’t let anyone know how emotional he had gotten. It would’ve just been more mental ammo for them to use to bully him.

He quickly got up from his chair, racing to his room where he had his box of memories shoved in his closet. It was little things from throughout his life that he kept in a shoebox. Whenever he felt particularly down or depressed, he would open the shoebox and look at all the things that made him smile.

At the very top of the box was (Y/N)’s Valentine.

He went back to his computer and took a picture of the Valentine using his phone.

“That sounds really nice,” he said as he went into the Discord app on his voice. “It must’ve meant a lot to him that you put so much time and effort into a handmade gift.”

“I don’t know if it did. I never got to ask him what his reaction was.”

“Oh, I’d bet anything he was happy.”

He sent the picture through Discord and waited for (Y/N) to open it. The silence between them felt deafening. The seconds felt like they had slowed to hours. He wondered what (Y/N)’s reaction would be. Maybe she’d be weirded out by the fact that Corpse kept the Valentine, or by the fact that Corpse was the middle school crush in general.

What if she’s upset that this is who I am now? he asked himself. What if her crush was just a middle school thing, and the moment you dropped out she moved on?

“I knew it.”

Corpse couldn’t help the smile on his face when he heard the slight excitement in (Y/N)’s voice.

“I knew it was you!” she continued. “Well, I didn’t know know, but when you asked me to call you I had a bit of a suspicion. I can’t believe it...it’s actually you!”

“It is me,” he confirmed. “And it’s you.”

“Small world we live in, huh?”

“Yeah, small world.” Do you still like me? Did you ever stop? Do you know that your kindness stuck with me for so long?

The silence returned. Corpse was starting to get sick of it, but he didn’t know how to fill the void between them. When he heard her yawn, he realized how late it had gotten. “I’ll let you go, you sound tired.”

“We just had this breakthrough and you’re asking me to sleep?!”

Corpse chuckled. “You have to sleep eventually, (Y/N). It’s like 3:30am, normal people sleep at this hour.”

“I am offended you would think I’m anywhere near normal.” She yawned again, cutting off her short lived rant. “But you’re right, I am tired. Listen...promise me you’ll answer when I call tomorrow. I...I’d really like to catch up. Maybe...to pick up where we left off.”

“Okay,” Corpse said, then realized that wasn’t really a response. “I promise. I’ll be waiting by the phone the moment I open my peepers.”

(Y/N) giggled. “I’ll be sure to call you the moment I open mine.”

“Goodnight (Y/N). Sleep tight.”

“Goodnight Corpse underscore Husband.”

kind of a bad ending, but i wasn’t really sure where else to go with it as i wrote it. sorry! :(

#corpse husband #corpse husband imagine #corpse #corpse imagine #corpse x reader #request #imagine #one shot #fanfiction #fanfic

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therenlover · 3 years

Text

In Fleeting Touches & Airy Sighs Chapter One (A Three Chapter Helmut Zemo/Reader Fanfic)

(Thank you to the wonderful anon who requested angst and smut between Zemo and the reader because Zemo had to be away from her on the run!)

Synopsis: A year after working together with Zemo in the events of Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Sam and Bucky seek him out once again in need of shelter from John Walker. Meanwhile, Zemo’s wife resents his absence and prepares for guests.

Tags: Flashbacks, Depression, Alcoholism, Separation Anxiety, Arguing, Struggling Marriage, Reunions

Rating: T (E in future chapters)

Warnings: Guns, Swearings, Reader shows signs of alcoholism/alcohol abuse, Reader uses a hot shower as a mild form of self harm

Word Count: 5000~

This fic has been crossposted under the same title to my AO3!

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Helmut Zemo was not often a man backed into a corner.

He was smart, resourceful, and had nothing left to lose. If it came down to the line, he would do whatever had to be done within his morals to achieve his goals, even if that goal was simply staying alive. The Baron bowed to no man, and made his enemies, no matter their size, fall to their knees with sheer wit instead of brute strength. That’s why, when he stood backed into an alley with the barrel of James Barnes’ gun to his forehead as the Falcon watched on, it was strange that he didn’t try to weasel his way out.

“We need answers,” Sam said, hands in the pockets of his dark hoodie. Bucky wore a similar one, only he wore a baseball cap instead of keeping his hood up. “How the hell did you break out of prison for a second time?”

Usually, Zemo would have replied with a clever quip. He had never been one to back down from a fight. This time, though, he looked almost frightened as he raised his arms in defeat. “I got in contact with friends on the outside during our short adventure together. They decided to help me out once I was re-incarcerated, willingly I might add. I had no part in the plan, but who would look a gift horse in the mouth?”

“And I guess I’m just supposed to assume you had no part in getting my pardon revoked?” Bucky spat.

“If you hadn’t noticed, James, I’ve left you alone,” A hint of his usual mockery slipped into Helmut’s tone, but he quickly pulled it back, “Believe what you want about me, but I’ve had some time since last year to… re-evaluate my feelings on the world. You had no choice but to do the things you did as the Winter Soldier, and as long as you pose no threat to society now I have no qualms with you,”

Despite the strangeness of Zemo’s response Bucky remained unphased. Sam, on the other hand, was less stoic.

“Man, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but the government is looking for Bucky and I harder than they’re looking for you, and it’s kind of all your fault, so excuse me for not giving a shit about your supposed sudden change of heart!”

“Can we get to the point? I’m afraid my flight leaves in an hour and I would hate to be late,”

“Cut the bullshit!” There Bucky went, pushing the cold metal closer to Zemo’s furrowed forehead.

“Bucky...” Sam warned.

“No, Sam, I can do this. Did you or did you not actively attempt to get my pardon revoked when you took us to Madripoor? Because thanks to you, a worse symbol than Sam is now standing unchecked with the title of Captain America AND he has access to the last of the new super soldier serum AND he’s trying to get us killed so we can’t tell the world about the awful shit he does,”

“I-” Zemo went to speak and, for the first time since he had met him, Sam believed he was being genuine. There was a tremble that made its way through him, all the way to his raised hands and even his voice. It was enough that Bucky even lowered the gun minutely. “I understood that by following my lead, the both of you were risking a lot. I didn’t intend any specific malice with my actions though, no. If I may… the two of you have attracted a lot of attention here in the past few days. I assume Walker is very close to finding you?”

Sam and Bucky shared a look before Sam responded. “Maybe, why?”

“I have a safe house,” he continued, “I don’t stay there often so the location isn’t compromised, but it’s my next stop. Might I suggest we take this conversation on the road? I would hate to host your reunion with Mr. Walker in an alley over my corpse,”

There was a moment of complete stillness. Zemo remained, face dark with that strange deer-in-headlights look, a perfect statue, as the barrel of Bucky’s gun remained pointed firmly in his direction and Sam shared what seemed to be a completely silent conversation with Bucky. It was true that they had been burned before. Zemo was a man with his own agenda who did what it took to fulfill it. That being said, he had returned willingly with them back to prison before he was broken out, and without his help, the band of freshly minted super soldiers would still be running around Europe causing chaos. In the end, Bucky lowered his gun slowly before tucking it away into his boot holster.

Zemo grinned.

“Don’t think this means we trust you,” Sam groaned, pointing a finger at the man.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Now, gentlemen, I believe we have a plane to catch,”

As the trio began to make their way out of the alley Bucky and Sam fell to the flank of the group. “Do you really think this is a good idea?” Bucky asked, eyes darting between his two companions. Sam shrugged.

“At this point, I’m doing whatever it takes to get home to my family in one piece. If that means I have to ride in Zemo’s stupid private jet again and lay low for a while, then that’s what I’m gonna do, because Sarah and those kids don’t deserve to lose me all over again,”

“But don’t you think he’s acting a little… weird?”

“Don’t worry, I have my eye on him. If he tries anything we can just throw him out front when Walker tries to shoot us,”

“You’re doing a very poor job of concealing your conversation,” Zemo shouted.

Bucky stormed ahead as Sam laughed.

“Oh, shut up!”

Surprisingly, the drive to the airstrip was mostly uneventful, as was the relatively short flight from Zurich to Avignon. There was, of course, the usual cutthroat banter and tension so thick you could feel it like a fog hanging over the group, but in an unusual twist of fate, the baron did very little to initiate. Of course, he wasn’t fully innocent though. He never was. That being said, even as his chauffeur carefully navigated the stone roads to the dropoff point he was strangely quiet. He had texted someone earlier to have the house prepared for their arrival but he kept looking down at the phone as if a response would come. It didn’t.

Sam appreciated the break from the noise. To him, it was a moment of peace after a few months of constant opposition. For the duration of the trip, he had chosen to shoot a few choice quips Bucky’s way before taking a long nap. Bucky, on the other hand, was only growing more suspicious of Zemo by the minute.

After his time with Hydra, Bucky had become intimately acquainted with the type of man that Zemo was. He was ruthless, driven by ideals that couldn’t be changed by any amount of debate or theory read inside a prison cell, and willing to do whatever it took to fulfill those ideals no matter the cost. There was remorse but no regret. A man like that doesn’t just stop believing in the thing that led him to kill dozens if not hundreds of people, because once the impetus is gone so is the only thing upholding their sense of self.

In basic terms, he was hiding something. Bucky was intent on finding out what that thing was, a thing important enough to make Zemo of all people shut the hell up and tell his enemies exactly where his safe house was, and he wasn’t going to rest until he did. The answer came easily enough in the end, but not before Sam and Bucky were forced face to face with the strangest thing they had ever seen, even when including aliens and wizards. That thing was Zemo buying flowers.

The trio had gotten out of the car somewhere around the center of the city and continued towards the safe house on foot. A few minutes after they started, though, Zemo had spoken.

“I apologize, but I’ll have to stop for a moment,” He said, holding up a hand to alert the two men trailing him to the fact that he was about to stop. Sam quirked up an eyebrow.

“At a flower shop?”

There, to the right of them, was a small fleuriste. The window was a burst of bright color. Pinks, reds, whites, purples; a certain bunch of spring blooms had caught Zemo’s eye. He shrugged. “It’s rude to arrive at someone’s house asking for a favor without a gift, Mr. Wilson. Excuse me,”

With a comfort that said he had been into the shop many times, Zemo walked through the door and began conversing with the shop owner in perfect French, even referring to her as tu instead of vous as he made his purchase.

“Did he just say someone’s house ?” Sam asked Bucky, eyes widening.

Bucky gritted his teeth. “Yeah, I think he did,”

“So, we’re just showing up at someone’s door,”

“Yup. Not to mention they’re someone who aligns themself with him,”

A groan escaped from Sam as he ran his hand down his face in disbelief. “I didn’t expect much from Zemo, but damn,”

“It’s your fault for expecting anything from Zemo in the first place,”

“For once, you’re right,”

They dawdled for a moment. As their conversation stilled, Zemo returned, now burdened by a sizable bouquet from the window. Around them, the city was starting to get off of work. Families walked together as businesses had their 5 o’clock shift change. Somehow as the world around them came to life it didn’t look at Sam and Bucky with anything more than a passing glance. They were tourists, nothing more. For a moment Sam understood why Zemo would go to a place like this for safety and anonymity.

Without ceremony, the trio began walking towards their destination once again.

“I apologize for the delay,” Zemo said, keeping his pace brisk and remaining about a foot ahead of his companions, “I suppose it’s become a bit of a habit that I buy Y/N flowers whenever I come back. We shouldn’t be long now, though, the house is just a few more blocks away, maybe 3 minutes by foot,”

“Y/N?” Bucky asked. The name felt heavy on his tongue, familiar. That had to be a coincidence though. Zemo would never align himself with anyone who had worked for Hydra, and there was no other place he could have heard that name and had it hold any significance. Right?

Zemo chuckled. “Y/N is our host. I’d appreciate it if you tried to maintain some semblance of respect when we arrive, she tends to have quite the temper and it would reflect badly on me if she believed I was asking her to indefinitely house two people who would happily send her to prison,”

“About that,” Sam chimed in, “Who the hell are we about to be staying with? It’s not that I don’t trust you, but I don’t, and by extension, I also don’t tend to trust people who trust you,”

“I assure you, Sam, Y/N is more trustworthy to you than I will ever be,”

“That doesn’t answer my question, nor does it make me feel any better,”

“She’s American, and like you, she is seeking shelter from the government. Isn’t that enough for you?”

“Man, at this point I feel like you’re not telling us because she’s actually some sort of crazy Sokovian sleeper agent who’s gonna stab us in the back while we sleep. Am I crazy, Buck, or am I right?”

Bucky, who had been trying his best to stay out of the conversation, replied. “You are being unnecessarily evasive, Zemo, though that’s nothing new…”

“Right? Like, I’m really grateful that you’re lending us a hand, but I’ve gotta be honest, if I think for a second things are going south-”

Sam never got to finish his sentence.

Suddenly, Zemo stopped short, turning around and looking Bucky in the eye with a madness neither he nor Sam had ever seen before. His whole body was stiff, rigid. The hand that wasn’t cradling the flowers delicately was gripped in a fist at his side. He looked angry, but underneath the anger, he really just looked scared. “You will not touch her. Do you hear me? Do what you’d like with me, I have made choices worthy of punishment, but you will not touch Y/N. If you so much as think of it, all bets are off. Do you understand me?”

Bucky nodded, sharp. This was certainly interesting. Sam just smirked.

“Is there something else you want to tell us?”

Zemo walked up a small set of stairs towards a home to their right. “No, Mr. Wilson, I don’t believe so,”

The building was a nice one, all tan stone with dark wrought-iron fixtures on its many windows. It looked, for all intents and purposes, like a normal midtown manor-house for some upper-class member of the community. The normalcy of it all hid its true purpose in plain sight. It was genius, really. Over a dividing wall made of the same yellowing stone, Sam could see a small sliver of vibrant green garden space and a pool at the side of the building.

With a steadying breath, Zemo knocked on the door.

“You have to knock on the door of your own safe house?” There was a hint of incredulity in Bucky’s voice as he crossed his arms. This was going to be a disaster. Why had they agreed to this again?

“A little etiquette goes a long way, James, especially when you’re already in the doghouse,” Then, the door opened.

Bucky froze. There, standing in the doorway with a pistol in her hand and a fire in her eyes, was a woman he thought long dead: you. This couldn’t be right! He had killed you back in ‘02 with the rest of the AAHR...

You quirked up an eyebrow at Zemo.

“Give me one reason I should let you in and not shoot you on the spot,”

They were so fucked.

________________

The day, on your end of the world, had gone by much slower.

It started off like any other, with the alarm on your bedside table blaring as you opened your eyes and your arms reached out into the emptiness in the sheets beside you. Sometimes, when Helmut’s flight got in late enough, you would wake up and reach to the side only to find that he had appeared beside you in the night. Those were the best kind of reunions. They were free of pretense, no bitterness or resentment clouded your sleep-heavy brain when you opened your eyes to his peaceful resting face, and you could simply fall into the comforting rhythm of husband and wife. If you reunited with a clear head things tended not to go as well.

You groaned. It wasn’t as if there was even a guarantee he would come back, especially not after the way you’d left things last time. The philosophy of attendre et espérer, waiting and hoping like an Edmond Dantés type, wouldn’t do you any good, at least not anymore.

Maybe it was time to start moving on…

Tomorrow. You could start thinking about the next steps tomorrow. For today you’d enjoy what you had.

Getting out of bed was difficult but you managed. The sun streamed through the curtains that billowed gently in the breeze near your balconette, brilliant gold beams illuminating the dust that danced in the air. The first thing you did was shuffle along to the corner and pour yourself two fingers of brandy from Helmut’s private collection. It was like a morning ritual these days, a numbing agent against the loneliness. Once the drink was downed you moved on to the closet to get dressed.

Dressing yourself wasn’t of much importance these days. You couldn’t exactly leave the house, and nobody was visiting, so more often than not, it was easier to just wear the same pajamas for a few days until you knew Oeznik would be around to drop off groceries. Today, though, you felt… filthy. Not dirty in a physical way, just sticky and filthy and unclean under your skin and in your very heart. Maybe a shower would help.

You looked around the closet with a clinical eye. It was difficult to be in there, surrounded by lavish dresses and expensive suits that you and your husband had worn arm in arm while plotting the downfall of the Avengers before your unsteady alliance had turned into so much more. Everything still smelled like his cologne. In the small, often-closed, walk-in closet, the scent had only intensified, covering every article of clothing with a fog of cedarwood and sage. It made you sick, choked the air from your lungs and left you gasping for even a single breath that didn’t sit heavy on your tongue with the bitter taste of that familiar musk.

The alcohol had helped. It always did. The remnants of its burn in your mouth formed a sort of guard against the scent of the closet as you searched through a pile of shirts for something soft and easy to wear. Your hands suddenly stilled.

“Zemo, I’m gonna be honest, this is the ugliest sweater I’ve ever seen in my entire life,”

“I’m hurt! That’s one of my favorites,”

“Where did you even get it, a 90-year-old grandpa’s closet? Jesus Christ, it looks like something out of a shitty 70’s flick about family values,”

“I’ll have you know that I thrifted that sweater. It’s very eco-conscious you know,”

Your heart hurt. Well, no, your whole body hurt, but your heart ached a little more prominently as you carefully picked up the sweater and held it to your chest. It was terribly ugly, 4 sizes too big even on Helmut and covered in an olive and forest green argyle. Somehow he was always able to pull off the oversized thing no matter how ridiculous you had always insisted you found it. When was the last time he’d worn it again?

The memory evaded you.

Still, it was a happy relic, happier than most of the monuments to a failing marriage that lined the shelves of your beautiful personal prison. It wouldn’t hurt to hope that by wearing it, you might rub just a little bit of that lost happiness off onto your present-day, right? With one last forlorn glance around the closet, you gathered up the sweater and a pair of jeans before getting out as fast as you could. With the scent of cologne clinging to you, the shower wasn’t just a good idea now, it was necessary.

So, you showered. You took the stupid foot-long exfoliating brush Helmut loved so much and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed yourself under the near-boiling stream of water until your skin was pink and raw. Disappointingly, even the new skin felt filthy. It was better, though, less intense. With some lotion and a little bit of Neosporin on the fresh patches of blotchy red, you were able to feel okay. Not good. Not clean. Just… okay. At least you didn’t smell like him anymore. The clock read 12:14 when you finally made it out of the bathroom in search of some real food.

Lunch, if you could call it that, was a silent affair. The fridge was almost empty and the pantry was only a little less bare, so you threw together a cheese sandwich, not even bothering to waste butter and grill it. You ate it plain with another glass of brandy out on the pool deck. It was gone sooner than you hoped it would be.

Oh well.

You finished your brandy with a sigh. Only seven or eight more hours until you could finish your day with a few more drinks and pass out in bed until nine or ten once again. Ah, dreamless sleep. That sounded divine. Now if only you could fathom any non-depressing way to spend the time between sleeping and waking. Swimming was out, the chemicals would burn your freshly eviscerated skin. Playing solitaire for the fourth day in a row sounded like absolute hell on earth. Even watercolors, a usual calming respite from the torturous and neverending monotony of life trapped alone in a house you had no help in stocking, were off the table ever since you’d run out of paper.

Somewhere inside the house, your phone dinged.

The second the sound hit your ears you jumped, dropping your glass and letting it shatter into a thousand tiny shards on the stone of the patio.

Phones were a difficult thing to own for someone who was trying to stay out of the eyes of the government. They were too easy to track and could tip off enemies to your location with very little error needed on your part. Even searching the internet for innocent things was too risky. If your search history was too similar to that of the alias you had used before Helmut went to prison, it would have been easy for them to find a connection and send someone to track you down. Still, you kept a cell phone charged and ready on the kitchen counter despite the risk for one reason and one reason only: Emergency contact with your husband.

He never texted from the same number on more than one occasion, always switching from burner phone to burner phone as he flew across the country doing god knows what, but if he was ever in a situation where emergency contact with you was needed, he was able to reach you at your number immediately. It had only happened a couple of times, and each time he had been in a considerable amount of danger. So, when you suddenly heard the sound you dreaded more than anything else in the world, you were quick to rush inside, even ignoring the shattered glass at your feet as you shoved through the doors and found the phone.

The small, LED display was lit up with the notification. It made your heart both soar and sink.

Flying home with two guests. Prepare the two rooms for their stay. We will be there by 5 at the latest - B

You read over the message several times before letting the phone fall from your hand and back onto the counter with a dull thud.

That absolute asshole.

Three months. Three months you had spent sitting alone. Three months without a call, or a text, or a letter, or even a word of when he was coming back by way of Oeznik. Three months! And after three months of loneliness and sleepless nights and empty bottles on the drink cart he reaches out through an emergency line of contact that almost certainly means he might be dying only to tell you he’s bringing two strangers into your safe house, the place even he refuses to stay in too long in order to not give its location away. The scar on your spine was starting to burn as you leaned up against the counter and cried.

It was ridiculous to think you had ever believed him capable of more tact than that.

Really, it was your fault. From the beginning, you’d had too much faith in a man incapable of being trustworthy, even to those closest to him. You knew that, and yet you had married him. Maybe the soft touches and sweet lies he had spoon-fed you had made you weak. Maybe you always had been.

“I’m not a child, Helmut, I know what I’m doing!”

“I don’t think you do,” he shouted. He was a few drinks in now, you both were. The nights before his departures never tended to end well when you both drank. “Because no matter what I do to protect you, you have the need to disobey me! Have you considered that I do the things I do for your own good!”

“Oh! Oh yes, the things YOU do!” You slammed your glass down on the table as you stormed over to Helmut, “I sit here all day like a fucking dog in a cage while you fly to fucking Ibiza and flirt with supermodels, but YOUR story is just so fucking tragic! I’m your wife, Helmut! I’m not an animal or your property, I’m your goddamn wife! You can’t just order me to sit and stay like a dog,”

He glared down at you, eyes hawkish and glinting in the low lamplight. For the first time in years, he looked threatening, “You may not be a dog, or a child, or my property, but you are a weapon! It’s my job to keep you here, away from the-”

“Excuse me?” You interrupted. The two of you stood, inches away and yet miles apart. Slowly, the drive in Helmut’s eyes faltered. “Say that again. I dare you,”

“Schatz, I-”

“No, Helmut, you meant it so say it again. Call me that again. I fucking dare you,” Tears were streaming down your face now. He took a step towards you, hand extended to wipe them away, but you were quick to take a step back out of his reach.

“You misunderstood me,”

“I don’t think there was anything to misunderstand,”

You swept the shards of your glass tumbler into a dustpan, hands still shaking even ten minutes after you’d read Helmut’s message to you. As you worked, your last conversation before he’d left echoed in your mind.

How had it all devolved into that? It wasn’t hard to remember Helmut before prison, jaded and broken and lonely. He had been so much like you and yet so different. Each of you seemed to be the perfect balm for the others' wounds. In the end, despite all of his flaws, you had found yourself in love. Now that he was a different man, was that love gone? You couldn’t say. All you knew for sure was that you weren’t nearly drunk enough to be facing the confusing feelings in your brain. With the last of your energy, you emptied the dustpan of glass into the trash can and returned to the house, sweater itchy against your irritated skin, to ready the guest rooms.

The job wasn’t a long one. You had never used the guest rooms in all the time you’d spent at the Avignon property, so the sheets were already clean. There was just a thin layer of dust on the furniture that needed to be swept away as you checked to make sure the dressers were bare and the bathrooms were stocked with amenities. Then, when that was done, you were left to your thoughts as the hours ticked by.

Most of the time you spent sitting on the couch doing absolutely nothing. It sounded terrible, and in all honesty it was, but what else could you do? The house was already spotless so cleaning wasn’t an option, and you didn’t quite feel like doing much of anything as you stared at the clock and tried to remember a time when your life was less of a disaster. As it got closer to five, though, you started to get antsy.

You had tried your best to not think about the obvious issue of the guests. Zemo was not the type to threaten his home, even if he wasn’t happy with you, so usually having anyone who wasn’t Oeznik or another paid lackey aware of the location of your safe house would be a big no in his book, but then you started thinking of the implications of him bringing people into your home. Your home, not his. Was he on his way to kill you? It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. Or maybe he was bringing your replacement.

Now that thought made anger bubble up in your throat. You were no stranger to the idea that when your husband was away, he could be doing anything. There was no guarantee when he slept in lavish hotels or drank the night away in elite lounges that he kept his wedding ring on. The fact that there were two guests meant it was unlikely he was bringing two mistresses, but never impossible. Nothing was impossible when it came to Helmut.

No, it was more likely he had finally decided it was time to end your suffering. The shouts and boisterous laughter that started to sound directly outside of the front room window only confirmed the for you. Slowly, you crept towards the door and grabbed a small pistol from its place in the umbrella stand. If he wanted you dead you weren’t going to go without a fight.

Through the curtains on the front door, you could just barely make out the trio. When you saw them your blood ran cold. It was one thing if he needed help to take you down, but getting the Winter Soldier on board? Your rage only grew by the minute.

Helmut said something, probably planning the best course of action to catch you off guard, and you sneered. Two could play at that game. When he knocked on the door you opened it calmly and held the gun with your finger just barely ghosting over the trigger.

Everyone froze.

“Give me one reason I should let you in and not shoot you on the spot,” you said, rage coursing through every nerve in your body. You may have been in retirement for quite a few years, but you still knew how to handle a gun. Everyone there, except maybe the Falcon, knew that. As Zemo went to open his mouth, you prepared for a firefight.

“Because I brought you flowers,”

-------------

a/n: Sorry that only one chapter is out! The fic is just getting very long and complicated and I wanted to make sure you got as much as possible before the next episode drops lol. I’ll be working pretty much nonstop from now until then, though, so the next parts should be out soon!

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