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wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 1 month

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Healing Bonds

Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader, Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader(Past)

Summary: You find Yelena after Natasha, your ex-lover, has passed and you feel like it's your duty to keep Yelena close. What happens though when feelings rise up for the blonde Russian?

Word Count: 3.2K

Warnings: Lots of angst and hurt

A/N: So This idea had come to me after rewatching Endgame, Black Widow, and Hawkeye so here you go.

The first time you met Yelena Belova wasn't until after her sister and your ex-lover, Natasha Romanoff, died. Natasha had always talked about Yelena and how much she loved her. You cried when you first laid eyes on Yelena. The two looked nothing alike, and you were thankful for that because you don't think you could look at her if she did.

When you told Yelena who you were to Natasha, she cried, wishing for a million different scenarios in which her sister was still here with them, and all you could do was hug Yelena, which earned you a handful of punches. You learned quickly that Yelena could be a very violent person when dealing with certain emotions. The first time it happened, you let it. You let her get her aggression out.

"It's not fair! You had so much time with her! You got to be happy with her! Me? I got a mission that almost got us killed after 20 years of silence!" She yelled, and you just held her tighter. "I'm sorry, Yelena," You whispered over and over and over.

In those moments, as her fists collided with your body, you could feel the pain in her words. It wasn't just about Natasha's death; it was about the years lost, the missions that tore them apart, and the void left by the silence between them. You understood Yelena's anger, even if it was directed at you. It wasn’t as if she could direct it at the person she wanted to.

As the punches subsided, she finally collapsed into your arms, exhausted from the emotional storm that had consumed her. You sat there in silence for a while, the weight of Natasha's absence hanging heavily between the two of you. The room felt colder, emptier, and you couldn't shake the guilt that gnawed at you.

"I wish she had more time with you too, Yelena," You said softly, your words barely audible. Yelena didn't respond, but her grip on you tightened, seeking solace in your shared grief.

In the aftermath of that turbulent encounter, the two of you began a journey of healing together. You were bound by the love you had both lost, and as the two of you navigated the tangled web of emotions, a new connection formed. A connection born out of pain, but one that held the promise of understanding and, perhaps, even redemption in the face of the losses you both endured in the wake of the Snap and beyond.

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You ended up taking Yelena home with you, offering her a permanent place by your side. She continued going on missions, which you had expected. The first time she left without telling you, and there was no note. You thought you'd lost her forever, sitting on the back porch in the summer evening air, your Y/H/C hair whipping around you as silent tears fell.

You didn't hear her come in, not until she was next to you did you notice her presence. "Why are you crying?" Her accent, thick and familiar, filled your ears as you grabbed her, pulling her in tightly, close, your heart hammering in your chest. "I thought I'd lost you too... don't... don't fucking do that again, Yelena!" You yelled at her, your voice trembling as tears flowed freely.

Yelena's expression softened as she held you, understanding the fear that gripped you during her absence. "I had to go. It was a last-minute mission, and I didn't want to wake you," she explained, her words a mix of apology and reassurance.

"It doesn't matter. Just... just tell me next time, please," You pleaded, your grip on her not loosening. The relief of having her back overwhelmed the anger that had fueled your outburst.

Yelena nodded, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. "I promise. I'm sorry for making you worry," she said, her voice soothing. The two of you stayed there, entwined on the porch, the summer breeze carrying away the tension that had momentarily fractured your newfound connection.

From that day forward, Yelena kept her promise. She would leave for her missions, but not without a word or a note, ensuring that you wouldn't have to endure the heart-wrenching uncertainty of her absence again. In the quiet moments between her departures and returns, your bond deepened, and the scars of your shared losses began to heal, one mission at a time.

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You decided to form a company a little over a year after Natasha died, the weight of her absence still heavy in your heart. Standing at her grave, you whispered into the wind, "I'm going to start a company. I don't want to be an Avenger anymore. Not without you, but I can help others. I know I can." The breeze felt like Natasha's touch, a comforting caress that seemed to echo her approval.

"Yelena and I have been living together for six months now, Tasha. She's exactly as you described. A spitfire and a brat at times. I don't know if you can forgive me or not when I say this, but I could see myself with her. She's my type, a power bottom with a bratty side." You chuckled as the wind picked up. "Okay okay... I understand, only if she moves first," You whispered, as if seeking Natasha's consent in the elements around you.

Your company started up with few hiccups. You planned on making a business out of seeking out people with powers and talents that could be considered Avengers, teaming them up with a manager. Eventually, you aimed to expand to other countries, each with its own headquarters. The goal was to create a network of skilled individuals, ready to defend against threats on a global scale.

You envisioned a world where those of you left in America could stay here unless faced with a Thanos-level threat, something you fervently hoped would never happen again. The legacy of the Avengers would live on through this new venture, a tribute to Natasha and a commitment to protecting a world that had lost so much but still held the potential for hope and resilience.

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You come home to find Yelena sitting on the couch with a pot of mac & cheese covered in hot sauce, using a too-big spoon. "Y/N! I made mac & cheese! Would you like some?" she asks, and you’re too exhausted to yell at her. You sit next to her, taking the spoon and eating some. "How was your day?" she inquires.

"Stressful, Lena. More and more people are learning about my company, and we're getting more and more applications," You reply, leaning your head back against the couch, closing your eyes. You hear her set the pot down on the coffee table before she curls up against your side. "Anything I can do?" she asks.

You remind yourself of the promise you made to Natasha. "Whatever you think sounds good. You've known me for over a year now, Lena. What is it that you think I want? What will make me feel better?" You don't open your eyes or look at her. you’re testing her, and she knows it.

You feel her shift off the couch, and you clench your fists. She's never going to make the first move as you fiddle with the band on your ring finger—the one you haven't taken off since Natasha gave it to you.

Yelena returns with a blanket, draping it over both of you. "How about a movie night? We can just relax and take a break from all the chaos," she suggests, her voice soft. It's a simple gesture, but the warmth of her presence and the consideration behind her words start to ease the tension within you.

You nod, finally opening your eyes to meet hers. "Yeah, that sounds good, Lena," you admit, a small smile playing on your lips. Maybe in that moment, amidst the mac & cheese, the too-big spoon, and the movie night proposal, you found a way to let go, even if just for a little while.

Yelena picks the movie while you change into pajamas, a tank top and shorts. You notice her eyes on your body, but choose to ignore it for the time being as you make popcorn and pour us some vodka sprites. Carrying the drinks and popcorn over, Yelena has picked out John Wick. You can’t help but chuckle at the choice as you settle back into the couch. Yelena moves closer, fitting into you like a puzzle piece as she takes your left arm and wrap it around her shoulders. You simply smile at the gesture, sipping on your drink and eating popcorn as the movie plays out.

About halfway through the movie, you feel Yelena absent-mindedly playing with the band Natasha had given you. She's engrossed in the movie, and you watch her, finding her reactions more enthralling than the movie at this point. It's a subtle touch, her fingers tracing the contours of the ring on your finger, and you can't help but be drawn to the way she navigates the emotions tied to Natasha's memory.

As the scenes of John Wick unfold on the screen, you lean your head against Yelena's, savoring the comfort of the moment. Her actions speak louder than any words, and in the quiet intimacy of that movie night, you start to understand that healing doesn't always come from grand gestures or elaborate plans. Sometimes, it's found in the simplicity of sharing a movie, a drink, and the touch of someone who cares. And in those stolen glances and unspoken connections, you find a new layer of solace, a fragile bridge between the past and the potential for a future where happiness is not just a memory but a living, breathing reality.

You whisper in Yelena's ear, "Tasha gave me the ring." Yelena is pulled from the movie, looking down at your hand that she's been playing with. "It was a promise ring. She got it for me in Budapest. Saying when things settled down, she'd do the whole down on one knee, and we'd have this beautiful wedding where she'd wear a black dress instead of a white one. Everyone would be there, and we'd go back to Budapest for our honeymoon. When we'd come back, we'd ask for a safe house where we could just live quietly between missions..."

You don't realize you’re crying until Yelena is wiping the tears from your face. "I'm sorry... I didn't... I'm ruining movie night, aren't I?" You choke on your own sobs, but Yelena just pulls you against her, hugging you tightly. "No, you haven't ruined anything, Y/N. It's okay."

You hold onto her, shifting slightly until she's in your lap, once again feeling like a puzzle piece as we bury our faces into each other's necks. "If you had gotten married, I hope she would have come found me to be her maid of honor... though I don't know how good I'd be at that," Yelena admits.

In that vulnerable moment, amidst the shared pain and unspoken understanding, Yelena's admission brings a bittersweet smile to your face. The weight of Natasha's absence still lingers, but in Yelena's presence, you find a different kind of strength—a strength born out of shared grief, compassion, and the subtle promise of moving forward, even if it's one tear-streaked movie night at a time.

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Yelena wakes you up, gently calling your name and crawling onto your bed. "Y/N... Y/N..." She speaks softly, shaking your arm lightly. In your half-awake form, you turn to face her, pulling her into a tight embrace, her face against your chest. You can smell her shampoo, pomegranates, and make a noise of content. "Y/N, I have to go," Yelena whispers.

"No," You refuse, not letting her go. In fact, you hold her a little tighter. "Yes, I must. The widows need me," she insists.

"I really don't want you to go... I worry so much every time you go out that door. I know you're the world's greatest assassin, but so was Natasha before you," You confess. Yelena cups your cheeks. "I'll come back. I promise."

Natasha said those exact words too. You feel the tears in your eyes, spilling over before I have a chance to stop them. They're down your cheeks and running over her fingers. "I know words mean very little. I know Nat said similar words. I'm not leaving, though. I'll come back. It's just freeing more widows that have been found. That's all. It's safe. I promise. None of them come close to my skills."

Yelena wipes your tears and assures you that she'll come back. You know you have to let her go. "Please just come back safe, Lena. Please," You lean your forehead against hers. "I can't do this without you," You finally confess.

"I'll come back. I'll always come back. You can't get rid of me, not anymore. You're too deep into this," Yelena tells you, and you look at her, searching her face. "Lena..." Gods, you want to kiss her so badly just to show her how much you need her, but you promised Tasha...

Yelena leans in, kissing your cheek, almost reaching your lips. It's the first time she's ever kissed you in any way. "I'll be back. A few days, that's all," she reassures, placing another kiss on your cheek before she leaves. She looks at you one last time with a smile before heading out, leaving you there, curled up into a ball and crying. Now, you definitely couldn’t lose her.

The weight of her absence already looms large, and the brief touch of her lips on your cheek lingers like a promise in the air. As you try to gather yourself, the echoes of Yelena's words and the warmth of her fleeting kiss become the anchor in the storm of your fears. You know you must trust her, just as Natasha had asked you to trust her own choices.

In the solitude of your room, you cling to the hope that Yelena will return, that the few days she's away won't stretch into an eternity. The scent of pomegranates still lingers in the air, a reminder of her presence, and you find solace in the belief that your connection, however fragile, will endure the challenges that lie ahead.

"Please tell me you'll count that as the first move, Tasha?" You ask, directing your words to the air as you look at the ring on your finger. There's a moment of silent contemplation, a silent conversation with a memory.

Then, you get up and get dressed, facing the day with a mix of vulnerability and determination. The echoes of Yelena's departure still resonate in your mind, but as you glance at the ring, you find a subtle strength. The journey ahead may be uncertain, but in that quiet acknowledgment, you feel the weight of a promise made, a connection forged, and a future that holds the potential for healing and new beginnings.

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"Yelena kissed my cheek; she almost kissed my lips, actually," You run your fingers across your cheek and the corner of your lip. "She had to go on a mission, and she told me the same words you did before you left me forever. I broke down. I seem to do that quite a bit with her now." You’re looking at Natasha's grave. It has been two years now since she left. "Tasha, I know we had our plans, and I will never forget them, but I want to move on... I need to, and in order to do that..." You pull the ring off your finger, twisting it between your fingers. "I need to give this back to you, darling." You’re trying not to choke on your tears as they flow freely down your face. You wrap it up in a little cloth, a red one, and bury it just a little ways down. "Please be happy for me, darling. You know she'll always treat me right." You are full-blown crying as you kiss her gravestone and head back home, hoping Yelena is finally home.

As you walk away, the weight of the past feels a bit lighter, as if the act of returning the ring is a step towards embracing the future. The pain is still there, the memories still vivid, but in the tears and the quiet goodbye, there's a sense of release and a tentative hope for what lies ahead. You head back home, your heart heavy but with a flicker of anticipation, hoping Yelena's absence will soon be replaced by her comforting presence.

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When Yelena comes back home, she finds you crying on the floor. She picks you up into her arms and holds you as you sob. When you finally come to from your crying session and register that she's back, you cup her cheeks and slam your lips against hers a little rougher than you intend. You soften up a bit when you realize how rough you truly were.

"You're back..." you whisper against her lips.

"I told you I'd be back," she whispers back, grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you back in. The two of you kiss, hungry and passionate, as if she's been waiting all her life for this moment. In the embrace of her arms, the pain of the past and the uncertainty of the future momentarily fade away. There's only the warmth of the present and the promise of a new chapter, where healing and love can coexist, a testament to the resilience of the heart after weathering the storms of loss.

"Yelena..." You pull back, leaning your forehead on hers.

"I've been waiting forever for that," Yelena admits.

"I know you were grieving, so I just wanted to be here for you, and I was never sure if I should act on my feelings," Yelena tells you, and you give her a soft, quick kiss this time.

"I talked with Tasha about it and promised I wouldn't make the first move," Yelena laughs. "When was this?" she questions.

"A year ago at her grave. You were on a mission, and I went to visit her just before starting up the Avengers company. I told her about how I was falling for you and to not hate me for it. The wind whipped around me, and so I promised I wouldn't make the first move. When you kissed my cheek before leaving, I took that as you making the first move. I visited Natasha yesterday and told her about it and gave back her ring. I left it with her so that I could move forward," You explain, feeling a mixture of vulnerability and relief.

Yelena brushes her thumbs against your tear-stained cheeks and listens to your words. "I promise I'll live up to your expectations. I'll do everything I can to do right by you, Y/F/N," she says, and you chuckle at the use of your full name.

"I know you will, and so does Natasha. I don't think I could be in better hands than yours, Lena," You say, feeling a sense of acceptance and hope for the future. The weight of grief begins to lift, replaced by the promise of a new chapter, and the knowledge that love, even after loss, has the power to mend and rebuild.

#ley writes #ley speaks #yelena belova #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova x female reader #yelena belova x you

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websterss · 3 months

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝟑/𝟒 — 𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: With the rising questions of whether ghost lock is a permanent form. Your doctor decides to run test on you, much to Lockwood’s like, to analyze your sudden loss of memory and to determine how much you actually do recall.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒): mentions of amnesia, death, angst, some fluff if you squint

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 6,773

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader

𝐀/𝐍: Hope you enjoy it! I don't know how to feel about this, you guys let me know alright lmfao this doesn't feel like my best work...

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

“Lockwood!” Lucy marches after him. The poor man before was pitiful. He walked away from the big court area. Never one to allow anyone to see him break. He kept running a hand through his hair, down his face, he was a mess.

A man who has a lot of experience in hiding his emotions suddenly finds he's had enough. Lockwood was furious. He was on the verge of tears, but he wasn't about to cry. He was shaking with anger and frustration. He walked down the long hallways to the elevator.

“Is this some bloody joke?” He breathes out a laugh not finding anything at the moment hilarious.

It was the worst thing that could have happened. The agency was already struggling. Now this. It had to be some sort of prank. He was still on the verge of tears, the thought of his best friend not recognizing him, not even remembering they were friends. It broke him inside out. He punched the elevator button with the bottom of his fist, over and over again. It didn't make the doors open any faster. His knuckles ached from the impact. “She can’t remember…S-She can’t remember anything.” Anthony grabbed at his tie, loosening it more so than usual.

"Lockwood..." Lucy put her hands out trying not to scare him in her approach. Her heart broke for you but more so Lockwood, the impact this weighed on his heavy heart.

He pulled at his tie again, eyes glued to the closed elevator doors that wouldn’t open while telling himself. “She’ll remember, she’ll remember. I know she will. It’ll take some time. People who suffer from amnesia don’t always get their memories back, but there is still a chance.” He spoke to himself but knew Lucy was behind him. He wouldn’t speak to her though. He was too upset, too hurt to give her any sort of response.

“Lockwood.” She tried again.

He turns to face her. His expression is stony, with red-rimmed eyes and tense lips. He was trying hard not to lose control but when he saw her eyes tear up, he couldn’t be angry. All his aggression melted away the second her arms shot out to pull him into a tight embrace and then he sobbed like a broken child.

He let the tears fall. He didn’t care anymore. “S-She can’t remember anything.” He whispered to himself, in a cracked voice, as the elevator doors finally opened. The timing was impeccable. “She doesn’t remember me. She doesn’t know who I am. She doesn’t know any of us.”

Lucy couldn't bear to see him like this. She'd never seen him this emotional. She gently held him in her arms. Her fingers softly traced the outline of his face. She pressed her forehead against his, eyes shut. She wished he would allow her to comfort him. If she could only speak some words of healing. But that's not how trauma worked. She couldn't heal his heart, however much she wished she could. All she could do was hold him and let him cry. She squeezed him tightly.

"I've lost her-" He began but Lucy shook her head.

“You haven’t.” She urged. “She’s still here, still with us. She’s just lost at the moment. But we’re gonna help her find her way back to us. But she’s not gone, we didn’t lose her physically.” She squeezed his hand. She wanted to reassure him. She wanted to calm his mind from the panic and pain.

"I'm not gonna be able to survive this Luce, have to relive the memories she doesn't remember I-"

"Then we make new memories with her. Instead of focusing on the memories that are lost, how about we focus on the ones that are being made? She has a second chance now."

“It’s the old ones I’d prefer that are not all lost…” He looked away from her.

"I-I bet she’ll remember them, and if she doesn't..." She struggled for the right words. She wanted to say what he wanted to hear, but that wouldn't be right, it wouldn’t be entirely true. "Then we can tell her. You can talk about them. They’ll be new to her, but we-" She paused having run out of words of comfort. “We’ve all lost her Lockwood, but we’ll get her back together.” She nodded, placing a reassuring hand against her upper arm.

He knew she was right. He couldn’t forget how distraught all of them were when DEPREC came along and whipped you into the back of an ambulance in a hurry. They all had you to lose, but they now had you to gain. He’d make sure of it.

“I think we should make our way back…” Lucy suggested, but it made Lockwood confused. “I think you might have scared her, you did storm off after all.”

“Oh god…” He closed his eyes. “She’s gonna think I-”

“Have unresolved anger issues?” She poked and teased with a timid smile.

“Hilarious.” He huffed and pushed past her to make his way back to the refectory.

You continue to nibble on the sandwich Lucy brought to you. Silence had fallen over you and George. The shouting dispersed down the hall, but you had yet to feel slightly relaxed. George picked up on your hesitation, seeing you avert your eyes after meeting his own for a split second. He only had a very brief moment to fully grasp the fact he was actually sitting across from you. You were awake and fully functioning much to his surprise. He went through various stages and emotions of grief and disbelief.

When he found you and Lucy together at a table, he had gawked at you, mouth wide open, finger slowly pointing at you in disbelief. He kept trying to form coherent sentences, but all that came out of his mouth was stuttered gibberish nonsense. Lucy gave him one lousy second to accept your return before she began pushing him forward. Ushering him off to retrieve Lockwood and bring him here. Now that he was finally sitting across from you without interruptions. He attempted to make conversation, or at best, just a way to familiarize yourself with him. Reacquaint and introduce himself. Amnesia…he couldn’t begin to fathom what you must be going through.

“I’m George, in case you were wondering.” Your head snapped up to meet his smile.

“Oh yes hi!” You awkwardly let a laugh out. “I heard Lock–Anthony say your name.”

“You remembered. We’ll remember the things you’re told…sorry.” You hadn’t taken offense to his wince though. Instead, you asked.

“I suppose there’s a last name to go with George?” You muster a timid laugh. Your best attempt to lighten the mood. You weren’t fond of the tension in the air. It made you feel out of place.

“Karim.” He tells you. “George Karim.”

“It’s a beautiful name.” You tilt your head. A lopsided grin plastered on your face. George’s eyes narrow slightly, he had a hard time grasping that you were gone, but you're right here in front of him.

“You’ve said that before…” George’s shoulders fall. It wasn’t meant to change the mood of the conversation, more of a nostalgia for memories. He offers a gentle smile, one that brings you warmth. Warmth and trust you can find within a friend.

“I suppose I was one for handing out compliments then?” You breathe out a laugh.

“Not just compliments. It wouldn’t be fun without your jokes. Though you’re particularly known for your insults as well.” George smirked seeing your eyes widen.

“Insults? Oh, that doesn’t sound like me. All in good fun I hope?” Your eyes widened in hope.

“All in good fun.” He promises with a nod.

You accept the reassurance. Taking another bite of the sandwich. Chewing on the piece of bread. The awkward wave once again filled the air. You glanced over your shoulder. Hoping to see his face reappear once more. He was rather easy on the eyes, a vision.

George, having picked up on your uneasiness, offered his reassurance. “They’ll be back. It hasn’t been easy for Lockwood. Much less Lucy. Though he’s been taking it far worse than us…as you can imagine already.” He implied towards the burst of anger Anthony unleashed. You look up at him. Your eyes held hope in them. The glisten in them made George want to reach out and hold you. You were holding onto his word. Hating the feeling of being seen so small and vulnerable with how you curled yourself into your tray of lunch. Adding to your sense of unfamiliarity with your new, but rather old friends. You truly felt lost with no direction.

Lucy had chuckled and followed behind Lockwood. Walking back towards where you and George sat. Once back in the refectory, she met eyes with George first and then with yours as your head turned swiftly. Anthony stopped alongside her, shortly allowing the situation to sink in fully, you were awake, you were okay, he hadn’t entirely lost you and you were staring right back at him. Those beautiful eyes he saw turn white were back to their original color. He offered a smile in hopes of easing your worry, it had as the corners of your lips reciprocated his own. God, you were a breath of fresh air. He knew one thing though, that they had to get some answers.

When you reached the third floor, you weren’t quite sure what to expect. Nurses' eyes stared at you like you were a historical exhibit. A new gallery to gawk and stare at. You were the talk of the hospital. You shrink under their whispers and stares. Lockwood sees you trying to make yourself invisible and failing to do so. It brings you comfort when he calls them out on it.

“Don’t you have patients to attend to? Nothing to see here!” He guides you into the room he didn’t find you in.

As you entered a man with white hair, a tall frame, and black-rimmed glasses stood at the end of your bed. A chart in his hands. A sheet lifted into the air as he read something off the bottom one underneath it. Lockwood cleared his throat, which gathered his attention. When he snapped his head to the door where you all stood in front of. He double-takes. Not expecting to find you standing amongst them…even more so awake.

“Bloody hell…They weren’t kidding.” You wrapped your arms around you as he made a cross on his chest. “Hello, Y/n. I’m Dr. Trainor. You have become quite famous today missy.” He tries to lighten the mood with a laugh, but it only makes you more aware of the attention you’re gaining.

“Famous?” You raise a brow in question. Dr. Trainor chuckled at your confusion, thinking you were messing with him.

“Why yes, it’s not every day one comes out of a ghost-locked state.” Everyone winces, except you, when he says this. Lockwood steps forward pushing you behind him. He didn’t want Dr. Trainor to further confuse you. You already questioned him about what sort of research you did. It was enough to clarify that you did not have any memory of being an agent. Let alone about the epidemic that broke out a few years ago. Hell, you hardly knew who the hell you were, and that scared him. You were more vulnerable now than you had ever been, all because you sacrificed yourself for him. How would he ever repay you for that?

“Dr. Trainor, there's something you need to know.” Lockwood steps forward.

“Yes?” He averts his attention to him now, but you manage to ask the question lingering on your mind.

“What’s ghost locked?”

Everyone turns to you. Dr. Trainor finds the question humorous, but as he turns to look at the others. He finds that no one else is laughing along with him. Anthony meets his eyes, immediately shaking his head with a stoic expression. Dr. Trainor's face falls flat. Then snaps his head to you. Your genuine curiosity and innocent nature were by no means a prank. You were serious.

“Oh…” Dread paints his face. He sighs heavily. “Oh, you poor child.”

“We believe she has amnesia. How much she’s forgotten, we don’t know.”

“Amnesia…” Dr. Trainor breathes out.

“Can you help her?” Lockwood asks with a plea.

“Mr. Lockwood amnesia isn’t something you can just fix.” He laughs lightly. “How much has she forgotten?” He looks to the others, then to you. He guides you to the side of your bed. “Dear, is there anything that you can remember?” You look to your friends, who’ve managed to give you some of yourself back. “I’m Y/n Y/L/N. My favorite color is green?” You look at Lucy, she urges you to continue with a smile. “I’m a…swifter?” You raise your brow with uncertainty.

“Good god.” Anthony curses under his breath. He closes his eyes and runs a hand down his face. He’s so close to ripping strands of hair from his skull.

“She means swiftie. She’s a big fan of the singer.” Lucy steps in to clarify the doctor's vivid confusion. “She’s forgotten everything I’m afraid. Her identity. Being an agent. She’s unfamiliar with everything that has to do with being an agent. No recollection of the epidemic that broke out either.” Lucy inquires. “I found her and she didn’t know who she was, didn’t know who I was.” She gives you a sad smile.

“I see…So everything you’ve recalled to me is information you’ve been told. Okay.” He unravels his stethoscope from his neck. “Any headaches, pain anywhere?” He turns to ask you. You shake your head no.

“I feel fine.” You admit.

“That’s a good sign.”

“It is?” Lockwood questions. The doctor rolls his eyes.

“Yes. It means we don’t have to worry about anything internally happening.”

“Try mentally…” Lockwood mutters under his breath. Yet, Lucy and George give him a deadpan stare, whereas the doctor chooses to ignore his tasteless comment.

“So what does this mean for others that remain in ghost lock? Would you say that ghost lock is no longer terminal?” Lucy held such high hopes. This would mean a great deal for her. It would be a great deal to Norrie, who wouldn’t stay in ghost lock forever. She’d no longer have to be in that psychiatric ward they held her in for surveillance and observation. Dr. Trainor gestured to the knot on your neck, your eyes widened as you reached up to untie it.

“It’s hard to tell so soon, this does happen to be a very unique and uncommon occurrence. We’d have to look into this situation more to be able to determine if ghost lock no longer is terminal, but at the moment this is out of our hands as we have no information to help us fully understand what we’re dealing with.” He moves the stethoscope across your back stopping in various spots. “Deep breath in, exhale out.” You do this about 3 more times. The metal felt cold against your skin. “Breath in.” You inhale deeply. “Breath out for me now.” You exhale. Then continue to breathe as normal. Lucy comes around to help adjust the ties around the back of your neck securely again. Lockwood leans forward, hands gripping the edge of the bed. He tucks in his lips, eyes furrowed deep in thought. The doctor wraps the stethoscope around his neck. Now fetching a light to examine your eyes.

“What of her memories?” Anthony spares you a glance. Watching the doctor have you follow his finger. “Will she get them back?” He looks up to Dr. Trainor.

“Can you follow my finger?” You shift your gaze left then right, then up and down. He leans forward to take a closer look into your eyes, slowly reaching forward to pull at your top eyelid. You feel uneasy when his face contorts into that of curiosity and interest, “Huh?”

This makes Anthony straighten up. “What? Is something wrong?”

“Nothing quite alarming, but have your eyes always had a white ring around them?” Dr. Trainor knows the answer since he’s checked them for the past weeks now, so this was new to come across.

“White ring?” You question. “I wouldn’t know…” You turn to look at your friends for answers. Anthony walks over to you.

“No.” Anthony confirms his question. He steps closer, silently asking if he can peer into them. Your nod of confirmation has him gently bringing his hands up to your face. His thumbs slowly push up your eyelids as the doctor provides the light. When he sees the white rings sitting around your eye shade his heart plummets slightly. “They were never there before. Should we worry?” He turns his attention to the doctor.

“It doesn’t appear to be affecting her sight, or mobility, so until they do become a cause for concern I’m writing it off as nothing to be worried about, but to keep in mind if it starts causing problems.”

“Is she allowed to be released tonight?” Lucy buts in.

Dr. Trainor gives you a once-over, contemplating. “I’d recommend she’d stay another night for observation…but her vitals have been fine. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone wake up with your mobility and strength my dear. No headaches or pain?” He asks you once more.

“No.” You reassure.

“Then I’ll allow you all to take her home, but if you sense any form of change in her health, you bring her to me. Understood?”

“We will.” George says.

“Alright then if there’s no further question, then dear you are free to go. I’ll go ahead and get your discharge paper.” You nod and thank him for everything, then watch him make his way to the door, but Anthony grabs ahold of his upper arm, pulling him to the side.

“And her memories?” Anthony emphasizes his need to know. Dr. Trainor sighs.

“I’d recommend to give it time. Don’t try to rush her to remember things. This is amnesia, not an exam. She doesn’t need to remember everything all at once.” He directs his raised brow at him with a warning not to push you. Lockwood only nods solemnly. The doctor turns his gaze to you and Lucy, laughing about something he wasn’t sure of. George gives them a tight lip smile as he brushes past them into the hall. Lucy helping you find your clothes. Dr. Trainor slowly moves the both of them out of the room and closes the door behind them. He walks them to the far end of the hall away from any possible listeners “I wouldn’t worry too much about her memories…”

“No?” Anthony scoffs.

“This is a very vulnerable situation you are dealing with Mr. Lockwood.” He looks down the hallway. “I’d keep a close eye on her if I were you. News is going to spread quickly about her awakening, and it won’t be pretty. Cherish the moments of peace while you still can. Though that isn’t much of a concern to me.”

“Oh no?”

“Her eyes. I’ve seen it once, in the papers. A child, much younger than she is. Tragic ending.”

“You said it wasn’t a cause for concern!” Anthony whispers and yells.

“I know. I’d still like you to keep an eye on her, if you feel the slightest change in her health…in her demeanor, don’t wait. That child’s parents were reluctant to accept acceptance and it ended with a funeral. Don’t wait.”

“Demeanor?” Anthony straightens up. “What– Why are you telling me this?”

“You never quite know who to trust…and if I were you, I'd also concern myself with how you’re going to explain to her how she can hear and see ghosts.” Lockwood felt a shiver run up and down his spine. He falters for a quick second because he’s right. He does have to concern himself with that, yet as far as he knows you’ll be on house calls for as long as he deems it necessary. He has to concern himself about telling you a lot of things, but for now, he settles with a tight-lipped smile.

“Good day to you, Dr. Trainor.” He pats the man and turns around.

“Expect a check-in house call, Lockwood.”

“We’ll call you!” He finished with a wave of his hand as he walked down the hall, where you wait for him now.

“Ready?” He sighs.

“I think so. Is this all that was on my person?” You look down at your outfit and shoes. Your neck and fingers are decorated with simplistic jewelry, each one you wanted to ask about and what it meant to you, or if any were given to you. Anthony takes notice of the necklace that hasn’t been tucked into your shirt yet. The small A and ring that was your mothers sitting comfortably on top of your black shirt. You then lift the rapier with gauged eyes. “W-What is this?” You eye the weapon with uncertainty. Anthony pulls out of his daze and reacts quickly.

Anthony reaches forward and takes it from your hands. “Don’t know who gave you that!” A light panicked laugh reaches your ears.

“What is it though, is it mine?” Your innocence was killing him. “Are we in a sport? A-A team?” Your eyes brighten with curiosity.

Anthony curls in his eyes, deadpanning to Lucy and George. “Please tell me the cab is here?”

“Fencing! We fence!” You exclaim.

“Oh thank god!” Anthony visibly moans at the sight of a black cab sitting patiently at the entrance.

The whole ride home Anthony couldn’t contain the smile he tried to fight back. His fingers were over his mouth to hide it from the others, but even Lucy found it quite amusing as George practically pointed out various places. It was like your own practical tour, and you represented that of a kid whose mother granted them the pleasure of going to the candy store. You were quite the sight. Though he anticipated your reaction when the cab had stopped in front of their home, your home, the one you had no recollection of. He tracked your quiet exhales as he made the first exist. He stood at the door allowing everyone to leave, then held his hand out for you. You hesitated to take it, yet when your fingertips slid over his palm, well he just about lost his composure.

Your eyes had yet to remove themselves from the door. Anthony’s smile lingered, watching your every move.

“Welcome home.”

“This is home?” You breathe a laugh of disbelief.

“It’s not much but-”

“No…It’s perfect.” Your smile grows as you look over at him. Your attention turns away once more, and you find the plaque. “A.J Lockwood & Co. Investigators…after dark ring the bell and wait below from the line.” You immediately look down at the line that was placed before the stairs. “Why the line?”

“Uh I– S-Safety precaution, we never know who might come around. Better to be safe. Why don’t we head inside? I can give you the grand tour.” He offers, wanting to trail away from your curiosity. In time, he reminds himself. He visibly relaxes knowing you’d be safer inside, knowing the curfew was about to be set in stone soon. Nightfall was emerging.

Your eyes wander after he offers to take your coat. The space bringing you a sense of warmth. The house looked lived in, what a home should represent. You walked further down the entryway, your footing colliding with boots. Anthony swivled around hearing you laugh.

Your laugh, such a contagious melodious sound. Oh, how he missed it. His heart soars. It’s always been something his heart reacts to. He’d thought the worst of the visit, thinking he’d see you in your coma-like state, he never assumed that the day would lead to you being here with them again. In your shared home, awake, laughing at various items that needed to be put away. Your laugh was so innocent, making it all the more precious to him. He didn’t want to look away, but he did anyway. “Let’s start in here.” He gestured to the living area.

"Out of all the rooms in this house, you start with the least interesting one." George's voice rings out as he and Lucy enter the living area too. "I think she'd find the bas-"

Anthony met his gaze, immediately shaking his head no at him. "That's enough, George." He cuts in firmly, but not angrily. He didn't want to scare you. His gaze lingers on George before turning back to you. "Plenty of rooms to go by, but I think one at a time will suffice for now. Wouldn’t want to overwhelm you." He mustered a smile.

“I think one at a time is fine, but I would like to at least know where I’ll be able to sleep.” You laughed halfheartedly.

“Are you tired? I’m sorry I wasn’t considering ho-” You reached forward to stop his rambling.

“I’m not tired, promise. Just curious.”

He was relieved that you weren’t tired, at least not as much as you could be. Your presence alone seemed to have brightened everything in front of them. Things felt as though they’d turn bright side up quickly. He couldn’t have been happier than in this moment. “Well, we shouldn’t waste any more time, the tour awaits. Lucy will be able to show you your room later as you share it with her.” You looked over to Lucy and nodded.

“We share a room?”

“It was originally yours alone, but I came after and we made it work. I promise you I don’t snore.”

“Oh okay.” You laughed.

Anthony chuckled at the thought, finding your amusement contagious, but he knew it wouldn’t take much more than a glance to make him join you in your lightheartedness. He took a breath, steadying himself. There was no need. Your smiles were so infectious it was like there was never anything to feel stressed about in the first place.

“Let’s continue. Now if we go back through this door straight ahead we will find my personal favorite…the kitchen.” Anthony winked at you. “Are you hungry because George just so happens to be a great co-” You all stopped and turned toward the front door as the doorbell went off. Everyone stiffened and held their breaths.

“Who’d show up now…curfew just started.” Lucy questions.

“No one good…” Lockwood keeps you all behind him as he makes his way over.

“There’s a curfew?” Your brows furrowed.

“Well talk about it later Y/n…” He muttered softly to you before he opened the door. “Inspector Barnes?"

“She here?” He looked past his shoulder and stilled when he met your confused gaze.

“We haven’t broken any guidelines…” He tried to keep him from entering, but he saw you. The one thing he didn’t want happening.

“I'm aware, good on you…that’s not why I’m here.” Barnes entered slowly walking over to you with his hands raised. Though Anthony walked over to you and stood before you, in Barnes's path. “Hello again Miss Y/L/N it’s good to see back to your old self again.” Your mouth widened as you turned to look at Anthony, Lucy, and George for answers.

“Y/n, go upstairs,” Anthony orders blocking you from the man who arrived.

“Upstairs? Oh did I do some-”

“No, you didn’t do anything. I just need you to go upstairs for a second please.” Anthony kept staring at Barnes. He shifted his gaze over his shoulder to where you hadn’t moved. “P-Please.” With uneasiness, you finally nod and make your way up the steps slowly, casting a glance back at them. Your gaze not leaving the stranger who entered your home.

“What roo-”

“When you make it to the first landing keep climbing the staircase up, there will be a door, that’s your and Lucy’s room.” He instructed softly.

“O-Okay.” You nodded and kept making your way up the steps.

A few beats passed before he closed his eyes at the shut of the door upstairs. His anger takes over his body once more.

“She doesn’t recognize me…” Barnes's surprise drawing out. He points to the stairs.

“I see your vision works.” Anthony gives him a tightlipped smile.

“Amnesia?”

“What are you doing here? If you wanted to visit a phone call would’ve done nicely.”

“Lockwood-” George could feel the tension begin to disrupt the nostalgia and peace they were swimming in earlier.

“I’m here to ask Y/n a few questions.”

“She’s not taking any visitors at the moment, maybe ever, sorry. Doors over there.” Lockwood gestures behind him.

“DEPRAC would like to get an understanding of her situation–”

“She has barely been home for a few minutes!”

“I understand but if we could get a few words with her or anything out of the three of you then we-”

You had made it to the room Anthony said was yours. You slide down against the closed door, legs sprawled out in front of you, as you try to calm your breathing. The arguing voices downstairs do nothing to provide you comfort. You stare off into the space of the room blankly. Your eyes unfocus and refocus on different objects and trinkets that lay around.

“You can't just come into our home unannounced and-“ You hear Anthony exclaim angrily.

You close your eyes, letting your head thud against the wood. Why was yelling constantly involved when you were the center of a conversation? Were you problematic that it made your friends feud? You craved peace and clarity when in reality chaos and confusion embraced you. You glance down around and spot a small device on a nightstand. You're reminded of Lucy informing you of your love for Taylor Swift and can’t help but wonder if the mp3 player is yours. You get up and go over, slowly retrieving and bringing it to life.

As you scroll and insert the earbuds into your ears. The artist playing in your ears doesn’t satisfy your innermost thoughts. Your pain. The song you’re listening to, the one said to be your favorite, is very upbeat. Hardly the type of vibe you’re looking for. You read off each artist and song title. Every song is unfamiliar to you. Music you don’t recall liking or loving. The trio had done a wonderful job emphasizing that you couldn’t live without the mp3 player you hold in your hands on the way home. The device doesn’t create a sense of security. None of the songs feel melodious or relatable. You're a stranger to your music taste.

Your brows furrow, a frown evident in your saddened features. Your breath shudders as another loud yell echoes faintly through the door. You flinch, hoping that if you close your eyes they will stop, at least for your sake. You can’t take the shouting for much longer though. You glance down and press on a song that catches your eye. Settling on one, instead of nothing was better. You don’t think too much of it, but you're thankful that a soft sad instrumental beat starts to fill your ears. The silence of the bedroom no longer. You let the device slide out of your hand and onto the floor. You don’t hear the clatter, you don’t hear the yelling. You rest your head back against the door again, letting the music drown out every sound, every burst of anger being heard downstairs. You let the music consume you, taking advantage of the comfort it provides because, at this moment, it’s the only real thing that can help you make sense of the world again.

Anthony sets out to check up on you after making Barnes leave and call him back when they think it’s best for you. His heart clenched with each step he took upstairs. He gripped onto the railing, his knuckles turning white, making his way up to your and Lucy’s shared bedroom. He thought of every worst-case scenario as to why you wouldn’t have come back down. Where dread hovered, worry loomed over tons of times worse. It's all he’s been feeling really.

Worry and concern over your well-being. The swelling in his heart was further amplified by having you back at the apartment…one you held no recollection of. Another reason to add to the list of things that would surely keep him awake all night. He only hoped as much as Lucy and George had that you’d gain your memories back. That you would remember the best times and the worst times of your lives together. The laughs you’ve all shared and the way you’ve all let your walls down around each other have allowed to see glimpses of each other's vulnerable sides.

When the raps on the door weren’t acknowledged he stepped in and climbed up to the landing of the room. The room had some life brought back into it as his eyes roamed. Your fairy lights were plugged in once again, as well as your mushroom night light. The shadows of it cast circles onto the ceiling. He teased you about it once, and you went on a rant about how having them light off your ceiling was cute, aesthetically pleasing as you put it. He couldn’t judge your preferences though, not when they brought you comfort. You had looked around a little, he could tell, since things were shifted or moved by you.

His smile vanished as his eyes fell on your form. In hopes that he’d find you okay was wishful thinking. Not when your face was dipped between your arms placed over the top of your knees. You weren’t even aware that he had entered. From the loud echo of music coming from your earbuds, he didn’t doubt that you were blaring the music as loud as it could go. How your eardrums didn’t burst, he hadn’t known. He approached you slowly. Kneeling down and lightly running his hand over your kneecap. He was cautious about not wanting to startle you, but the flinch you gave, and gasp you emitted had him falling on his ass. His heart only broke further seeing the redness from your eyes. Blood vessels form around your irises. Your eyes were puffy. You tried your best to act like you were fine, wiping under your nose as you sniffled, but once your eyes met his. Another tear fell past your waterline.

He was so accustomed to wiping your tears that it became a habit. His arm moved on its own accord before he fully registered that he had slid closer to touch you. He reached up to rid your cheek of the tear stain gently. You showed no signs of discomfort, inviting the lingering caress of his thumb. He smiled faintly feeling- seeing you subconsciously lean into his palm. He rubbed against your skin for a few minutes then let his hand fall back down to his side. He scooted over to one side of you, crisscrossing his legs. He let out a sigh as his back felt the hard cold metal frame. His eyes landed on small objects or loose pieces of clothing thrown around the room.

A coping mechanism he picked up during your absent days from the apartment. Still hospitalized and ghost-locked. It made him want to tear up as he was reminded of the days he longed to see you conscious and sitting beside him. Just as you were now. He inched his pinky to brush against yours. You made no act to shift away, unknowingly to that as you wrapped yours around his, you’d done so many times. Anthony breathed out a shaky laugh as you tightened your pinky around his own. His eyes lifted to yours, finding you already waiting for him to look up at you. He let a tear fall past his cheek as a chorus of deja vu flooded his mind. He was all too familiar with where he sat, in this exact spot.

Funny enough, Anthony found himself in this very spot for weeks. Sat up against the foot of your bed frame. Trying to find comfort in the disarray of your belongings. Hoping to hear your laugh within the vacant chair at your desk, or even a soft cry as his fingers glided over one of your favorite books coated with tear stains. He wanted- hoped to find you here in the mess. Each time he’d turn his head to the right of him, he hoped to find you there next to him, smiling at him, but it always ended the same way. Having his eyes burn holes into the wall he was met with instead of you each night.

Yet even now, as your eyes locked and the corner of your lips curled upward. He believed this all to be a dream. Too scared to look away because he felt once he did, he’d turn back to find you gone. That you’d evaporate into thin air as he’d try to grasp at you. But you were right here, in his reach, in his grasp. Right beside him…you were home again.

“I see you settled yourself in. Find anything you like on it?” He gestured to the device to your right. You take out your right earbud and let it dangle. You lift the device and swirl the circle around to lower the volume.

“No.” You meet his gaze as you chew your bottom lip. Your eyes cast onto his shoes to distract your nerves from building up. “I think it's only left me with more questions about myself, rather than answers.”

Anthony’s heart tears down right in the middle as you remove the other earbud and slowly hand over the mp3 player. He’s left confused not knowing what to make of this.

“As silly as it may sound…It doesn’t feel right to take it, feels as though I’ve stolen it from her- or rather, me?” You shake your head. “My former self?” You look away from his lap. Picking and pulling at loose threads from a sweater you hardly recognize as your own. “The music that she- that I listened to…Nothing feels familiar.” You breathe out shakingly.

“You say it like…like you’re dead.” His chest falls and rises slowly, but it's threatening to increase in pace. “But you’re not, Y/n. You’re still here.”

“What if I am though? The old me you all miss. What if she’s gone for good and you can’t get her back? What if I can’t remember? What if we can’t-“ Anthony reached forward to hold your shoulders as you began to hyperventilate.

“I wouldn’t think so negative just yet. You’ve only just gotten discharged, we’ve barely brought you home… ” He breathes a smile. “The doctor said this could take, and that this isn’t something that should be rushed. Though as much as I do miss our inner jokes.” He beams with a solemn gaze. “I’m willing to wait. However long it takes, even if it means months till- till you come back to us. It’ll be worth the wait.” He unravels your joined pinkies and interlaces his hand with yours instead. You glance down, and a spread of warmth and hope entices you. Yet there’s still that lingering dread and fear casting a shadow.

“And what if…What if I can’t remember anything?” Your eyes tear up. Your mouth is slightly agape as you breathe through your mouth. “What if all the memories we’ve all made don’t come back?”

“Then we’ll recreate them again. Memories as wonderful and as painful as the ones we’ve shared. I’ll make sure you get your life back the way it was before, as we were before, even if that means starting from the beginning.”

“You’d do that for me?” You laugh lightly as tears fall down your cheeks. He reached up and wiped them away. You didn’t even know half of what he was willing to do for you.

“You don’t even know that majority of it.” He gave you a steady nod. You squeezed your eyes, floored with joy and a mixture of sadness combined. You are overwhelmed. You opened your eyes back up expecting to meet Anthony’s charming grin. Yet the loud gasp you released had startled him. You were met with a void of darkness in his place instead.

“Y/n?” Anthony shifts to sit up.

“Did it work?” His heart plummets as the intensity of the white rings in your eyes grows. Almost like they were turning white again.

“Did what work?” His voice darkens.

“It did…She let her guard down, I’ve taken over.”

#anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood imagines #anthony lockwood imagine #anthony lockwood oneshot #anthony lockwood x fem!reader #anthony lockwood x reader #writings by juls #my gif

109 notes · View notes

grievedeeply · 1 year

Note

ok, i have a VERY weirdly specific scenario i thought of which i thought would make a great imagine.

hear me out, maybe the reader has a sort of scenario the same as arisu after the queen of hearts game where he’s in the bar with karube and chota, except maybe its the reader saying her last goodbyes to karube who she dated before the games?

idk if that’s not what type of request you’re looking for, just a weird scenario i thought of!

this has me shaking and crying and punching the air. karube has been one of, if not my favorite character, in the entire show, so this punched me in the gut 😭 thanks for the request and for breaking my heart anon.

if you want extra heartbreak listen to this playlist i listened to on repeat while i wrote this. it's my own so i'm biased but i think it fits with this :"( edit. i wrote this entire thing and then tumblr deleted it soooo forgive me if this is bad

gn!reader | tags: @hawkins-hs @energeticsirens @fiona782 | join my taglist!!!

tws: a lot of angst. main character death, bittersweet ending. no pronouns used but reader has long hair and karube says beautiful

your happy ending — karube daikichi

your heart had felt empty for a long time.

though, you would be lying if you said that you didn't let out a sigh of relief when mira died. not because you wanted her to. no matter how cruel she was.. no one deserved a death like that. not even her. a part of you felt like she was a victim too. if you were honest with yourself.. she probably was. even though it felt good to be free of the hell you found yourself in for so long, you thought of her. kyuma, too.

you remembered chishiya, who had gotten shot twice trying to protect the people he cared about. he wouldn't have done that before. he was so.. different. things had changed within him. he was becoming even more difficult to read.

you thought of arisu, who stood shakily next to you, holding usagi's hand in his own. the two of them deserved their own happy ending— and you were certain that they would get it now.

a happy ending.. right.

you wouldn't be getting one of those.

you were unlucky. you knew that. you felt it from the moment you had your first coherent thought.

but he was.. he was lucky.

he was your good luck charm. your sweetheart. he was your everything, and now he was gone. you could only picture his beautiful face in your mind. his smile and his generous heart lived on only in your memories.

you wouldn't get your happy ending with him.

the world was cruel. you were well aware of that fact, too. the universe always took the kindest people first, and you wished that it were you instead of him that had died that day.

you looked towards arisu, and somehow, you could tell he was thinking about him too. karube and chota, both. they were his closest, most trusted friends. they died.. and he lived. he would have to live with that guilt for the rest of his life. no matter how many times you reassured him that it wasn't on him, he wouldn't listen. he was too stubborn.

"now, all surviving players will be given a choice." the voice had sounded like nails on a chalkboard now, but still, you looked towards the sky and paid attention. "please select whether you will accept permanent residence in this land, or if you will not." the voice rang through your mind, and you let out yet another sigh of relief.

"i.. don't think i'm going to." you spoke up, turning your head to look at arisu and usagi. his grip on her hand tightened and you felt a pang in your heart. you could only wish that things were different.

"i.. don't want permanent residence." usagi breathed out, a warm and gentle smile on her lips as she stared at arisu. he repeated her sentence back to her, with an expression on his face that you could only assume was similar to hers.

you felt as though time had stopped for a moment.. and you closed your eyes.

"are you sleeping?"

you blinked a few times, trying to force your eyes open. you recognized where you sat. it was karube's couch. one you found yourself visiting more often than you'd like to admit. his apartment was a safe haven for you. he had told you once to come whenever you like, and you took his words literally, even if he probably didn't mean it at the time.

your eyes focused, and you looked around. everything was the same. the tv that sat in front of you, the messy kitchen in the corner of your eye. what was happening?

you turned your head, expecting to be met with the door that had led to the balcony, but you were greeted with something much better.

your boyfriend's face.

he had a playful smile etched across his face, and your expression softened. your eyes widened. you felt the urge to reach out for him. was it a dream? was he still with you? "come on, i don't have you speechless already, do i?" your boyfriend's voice rang out as clear as day in your ears, and you let out a shaky breath. was this a dream? a nightmare? a game to physiologically torture you?

"daikichi?" you finally uttered his name, and he nodded. he was just as beautiful as the last time you'd seen him though.. this time he had something of an ethereal glow. you were probably imagining it, too focused on his presence to care about things that didn't make sense.

"oh, daikichi.." you hummed, gathering the courage to reach out for his hand. your fingers didn't move right through him, no. you were met with skin. he was really there, sitting in front of you with that same grin he wore on his face every day.

you could feel tears well up in your eyes at the sight of him, the realization of him being real sinking in after a few moments. "i've missed you so much." you lifted his hand to your lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it gently. it felt as though he would break. "mm. don't want blurry vision." he chuckled, wiping your cheeks with his thumbs, "i missed you too." he chuckled, quickly taking you into his arms after looking into your eyes for a few seconds.

you sank into his touch, your arms easily wrapping around his neck as they had done so many times before. this couldn't be a game, you told yourself. he was really there in front of you. you pulled away from the hug after a few moments of sitting in silence, your eyes closed as you took him in.

your gaze flickered back and forth between his lips, and he raised an eyebrow, "come on. kiss me."

you leaned towards him suddenly, pushing him back against the couch. you pushed yourself up, your hands resting on either side of his head. you admired him, taking in every detail of his face. his smile, his eyes.. everything. after another few seconds, you pressed your lips to his. his hands rested on your waist, holding you tight. it was almost as though this would be your last kiss. you didn't think about that. he was real, and you would enjoy the moment. he squeezed your sides, humming contently against your lips.

he pulled away first, easily slipping his hand to your face. he brushed your hair behind your ear, "so beautiful." he hummed, looking to be in a daze as he stared up at you. you only laughed, nudging him playfully as you sat back up. you pulled him up with you, enjoying his touch for as long as you could.

"i don't want this to end." you told him, and suddenly the smile on his face was replaced with a frown. small, yet noticeable. "what's that look for?" you asked after a moment, and he pursed his lips.

"you have to let me go." he spoke, his eyes meeting yours. "what are you talking about?" you laughed breathlessly, furrowing your eyebrows. "you know." karube replied without missing a beat, gesturing to his neck. "no.. no." you whispered out to him, your throat feeling dry. "it was over, daikichi.. it was over." you continued, shaking your head.

"i know, baby," he muttered, taking one of your hands in his as a way to attempt to comfort you. "but you have to let me go." he spoke again, and you shook your head. "i can't. i can't.. i can't just let you go. i can't do it." you countered, and he let out a sigh, squeezing your hand.

"you remember our first date?" he asked, seemingly out of nowhere as he noticed the tears forming in your eyes. you nodded, blinking a few times. why would he bring it up now? "remember i took you to the movies.. i even did that stereotypical movie date move," he chuckled, removing his hand from yours to wrap it around your shoulders, repeating what he had done on your first date together.

"you were so into it that you accepted my offer for a second date." he laughed to himself, squeezing your shoulder with his hand, pulling you closer to his chest. "and i remember this time.. i was so nervous. i never went to fancy restaurants so, i.. i remember putting on that suit and staring at myself in the mirror, telling myself i looked really stupid in that suit." he continued, his voice lowering to a soft whisper.

"then i got there and your eyes nearly popped out of your skull." he nuzzled his head against your own, and you rolled your eyes. "no, they did not. i just said you looked good." he laughed at your words, but shook his head. "you should've seen your face, baby. i swear, your eyes were so far out of your head. your jaw was on the floor."

"oh, come on." you muttered, forgetting entirely about what had happened before. "it was not. you just have a massive ego."

"one that you fueled with that expression." he shrugged, lips pressed together in a smile. you rolled your eyes, and you fell silent.

"i don't.. want to let you go, daikichi."

"i know you don't." he took in a shaky breath. "if it were up to me.. i'd keep you here forever and we'd live in our own little world."

"why can't we do that?" you asked, a frown forming on your face as you looked up into his eyes. the look in your eyes was nearly enough for him to start crying himself.

"it's not your time yet." he replied. "you have a whole life to live. and.. when it's over, i'll be right here." he hummed as though his words were some that were spoken every day, and you pulled yourself out of his grip to look at his face.

"i can't just let you go. i can't do it."

"i'm not asking you to forget about me. about us," he said, "the live we could've had." he looked away from you and out the window, reaching into his pocket.

he pulled out a small box, and you furrowed your eyebrows. he turned his attention back to you after a few seconds of contemplation.

"i had everything planned out," he whispered, opening it with a bittersweet smile. inside was a ring.. a beautiful one, one that you assume he'd picked out himself. "i had this entire proposal planned. it was gonna be at the bar. obviously." he shrugged. "where we first met. i had a speech. i was ready and willing to confess my love to you in front of all of those people." he laughed breathlessly, blinking a few times.

"the marriage? i had the perfect image in my mind. i would've had two best men.. because i knew i wouldn't be able to pick between chota and arisu," he laughed, "and i would be wearing that same suit that i wore when you fell in love with me."

"oh, please."

"what?" he chuckled.

"i didn't fall in love with you when you were wearing that suit."

"when did you, then?"

"right when i met you," it was your turn to shrug, "i saw you behind the bar and thought to myself.. i have to try. i have to get his number or something. you asked me for mine first, so i didn't have to." you laughed at the memory.

you remembered how he looked that day. you remembered his smile as you walked into the bar, directed right at you. you could feel your heart skip a beat at the sight of him.. and it was then, you knew.

"you really wanted to marry me?" you spoke up again after the room fell silent. "of course i did." karube replied without hesitation. "you were the only one for me. and you still are."

"but you still have to let me go," he continued with his previous conversation. "i don't want you to forget all of that. i always want you to think of me and get all flustered.. have that same silly grin on your face like you always did when you saw me." he chuckled.

"i want you to feel okay moving on. you deserve to.. to live a happy life with someone else. you don't need a dead boyfriend holding you back from that happiness."

you had nothing to say to that.

"you promise me that you'll at least try? i want you to be okay with someone else other than me." karube continued even with your lack of a response, and you nodded wordlessly.

"good," he pulled you close to press a kiss to your forehead. "and when the time's right.. i'll be right here waiting for you." he reassured you with a smile, and you found the strength to return it.

were you foolish for believing he was alive, even if it was for a split second?

"you'll have your happy ever after." he whispered, taking your face in his hands. "i promise." he chuckled, noticing your worried expression. "i'll find you again, baby. i will." karube reassured you with a gentle smile, and all you could do is nod.

you took his hands in yours, leaning forwards to kiss him again. he met you in the middle, his eyes closing as soon as your lips touched his. you melded together perfectly.. in every way. he was your soulmate. there was no erasing that.

you wouldn't ever be as happy with anyone else as you were with him. you knew that. but he wanted you to feel okay moving on, and you knew that, at some point, you would be.

he pulled away and looked into your eyes.

"i love you." he whispered.

"i love you more."

your entire body was sore. you noticed that as soon as you opened your eyes and were met with the blinding lights of the hospital room you laid in.

the silhouette of a nurse stood next to you, and she greeted you with a warm smile. "how are you feeling?" she asked you politely, looking up at the screen in front of her to check your heart rate before returning her eyes to you. "everything hurts." you mutter, and you earn a laugh from her. "we can take care of relieving some of the pain but.. for now," her smile turned into a bittersweet expression.

"i am sorry for your loss."

you felt a pang in your heart at your words, and you finally looked into her eyes. you felt so weak. so.. frail.

"he had this," she held a small box in her hand out to you, "in his pocket. the paramedics insisted you have it." she whispered out to you. "he seemed like a kind young man."

"he was." you cut her off before she could say anything else, taking the box out of her grip after a few seconds of staring at it.

"i'll.. leave you alone. press this button if you need anything, okay?" her voice was kind, and you managed to send a small smile her way before she shut the door to your room behind her.

you knew what it was. you had seen it..

you opened the box and the same ring karube had shown you was inside. you couldn't help but to laugh, letting your head fall back on the pillow for a moment. you forced yourself up again, taking it completely out of the box.

"yes." you whispered to the sky, slipping the ring onto your finger with a bittersweet smile.

"yes."

#alice in borderland x you #alice in borderland x reader #alice in borderland #aib x you #aib x reader #aib #karube daikichi #karube x reader #karube alice in borderland #aib karube #karube daikichi x reader

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skaruresonic · 2 months

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no matter how I look at it Sage just isn't a good addition and making her Eggman's "daughter" is legitimately unnecessary. She should have just been "yet another eggman creation" but they wanted be oh so deep and complex by making eggman show affection for his artificial child or whatever

Yeah, pretty much. When Woodchipp and I watched an LP of Frontiers, we were left scratching our heads over her utility and function as a character, as well as why Eggman lets her get away with stuff that he wouldn't let slide with other creations of his.

Sage presumes to know better than he does, and while he does huff and puff about it, he doesn't get genuinely angry as he otherwise would. She also fucks up pretty frequently, begging questions of why Eggman puts up with her failures and backtalking.

It doesn't help that a lot of the development behind their relationship occurs offscreen, in the presumed gaps between cutscenes.

Sage rescues Eggman from some hazards of Cyberspace, according to an Egg Memo. Then tells him a joke in another. And it's like gee I really wish we could see all of this happening instead of merely being told about it. As it stands, it's like the game is going "just trust me on this one dude"

Their dynamic is too half-baked to be taken either seriously or ironically, putting it in this weird gray area where it's simultaneously both and neither: hence the dissonance that leads a lot of people to crack up laughing during the NANANAAAA scene.

Even if you assume the perspective that the game was supposed to depict a dysfunctional relationship between Sage and Eggman, then that begs further questions of why ST would choose to do things in such a way that the dysfunction could be confused for the genuine article. Sonic games don't really play 4D chess with subtext like that.

The "JP!Eggman treats Sage differently than US!Eggman does" angle has been debated to death. The truth is I really don't care one way or the other because the end result remains the same no matter which version we go with.

Even if JP!Eggman did nothing but dropkick Sage off a cliff for the entirety of the game (highly doubt it), clearly it wasn't enough to deter notions of Sage becoming a permanent fixture in his retinue. Being a bad parent is still being a parent, despite what the "but Bowser can be a villain and a dad" crowd will tell you. That's sidestepping the point that the mere concept of parenthood, period, just doesn't gel with Eggman's lone wolf nature.

#asks

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 2 months

Text

Max's Letter to Steve and Nancy

Dear Steve,

If you tell anyone what I said in this letter, I'll haunt you, and I'll haunt a good lawyer into suing you. . . You've always been like the brother I wish I had, the kind of brother that I wish Billy had been. Me and you, we're kind of the same. . .two cats who pretend like they don't like the affection they're given. It's because we're not used to it. But you deserve to be loved, Steve.

I know Nancy hurt you, Steve. Dustin kind of spilled the beans on that one. He means well, just like Nancy never meant to hurt you. I know what it's like, though, to blame yourself for someone's death. In a way, it's a form of self-preservation. She ran away to protect herself and you as well. So, she ran away to something that she knew wasn't permanent. The scariest thing in this world is something that lasts forever. Maybe like me, she got scared of that too. When I thought about my future, all I could see was Lucas at the end of the tunnel, and that scared the shit out of me. After Billy, I felt like a black hole, and I was afraid of sucking him in. We're different, I know, but there's something about us that's the same too. You and Lucas are different, but you have the same loving heart. . .patient and kind. Maybe I'm just being hopeful on my end. Maybe I'm misreading it. Or maybe without even knowing it, you've been waiting for Nancy to see you like Lucas has been waiting for me. The question is, who do you see at the end of the tunnel? Who do you see in your vision of the future? Life is short, especially in our line of work. Don't wait too long to figure it out.

Love,

Max.

Dear Nancy,

I know we haven't spent much time together, but if I survive this, maybe we can rectify that. Mike's lucky to have such a badass older sister. I wish I was that lucky. I don't know if I have any right to say this, but since I'm probably going to die, maybe it doesn't really matter. I honestly don't know what really happened, only what I heard from Lucas and from what Mike read in your diary. You didn't hear that from me. I did slap him for that one, so you're welcome, I guess. I don't know if anyone's ever told you, but. . .what happened to Barb wasn't your fault.

We're all responsible for the choices we make. Dr. Brenner chose to play God, and his actions caused the death of everyone involved. Barb's death, Billy's death, that's on him. Doing what you did, it was your choice, and it wasn't wrong to make a choice that makes you happy. It didn't cause Barb's death. I still feel guilty about Billy dying because when he was hurting me to the point where I would cry at night and wishing so badly that he would be a brother like Steve turned out to be, I also wished for it to stop. For anything to happen, and I suppose that's why I feel guilty because a part of me did want him to die. I felt like I made it happen in some way, and I felt like I was just vile as he was. And then I realized it wasn't my choice for him to be that way and that the only time I ever wanted to hurt him was to stop him from hurting others. . .from killing Steve. He would have. Billy chose not to be the big brother I needed, and I wish that it hadn't taken his death for him to realize it. I wish he could make it up to me now. I think a part of me will always feel guilty, but I'm also scared that it's what's going to stop me from living my life. I didn't kill Billy. You didn't kill Barb. Dr. Brenner is responsible. You're nothing like Billy or Brenner. You strive so hard to help people, actually help them. You care. It's just that trauma can shut you down, closes you off, and all you want to do is to run away.

The best thing about Steve is that a part of him knows that you didn't mean any of what you said to him. Whether he realizes it or not, I think a part of him is still waiting for you to heal and to see that he's always been there. When he looks at you, he looks at you the way that Lucas looks at me, and I know how scary it is. When I look at my future, I see Lucas, whose unwavering loyalty shines bright in this stupid darkness. Steve is loyal to you, too. Whether he realizes it, his love for you is what guided him down the path to making his own choices, and it led him to caring about us. It woke up the part of himself that he turned off when he realized his parents were never going to give a shit. It wasn't gone, just locked away. You were the key. . .okay, holy shit, this is some sappy shit. Maybe you should just ignore the ramblings of dying girl. Think about your future and who you picture at the end. What do you see? Life is short, especially in this town. Whenever I look at you and Steve, I see a story that's not finished yet, and maybe I'm projecting my own relationship with Lucas onto you two. Just give it some thought, and you can totally burn this letter. You and Steve are the most badass older siblings who I can see myself being closest to. I just want everyone to be happy. Anyway. . . I don't want to be a ghost anymore.

Love,

Max

#stranger things #max mayfield #stranger things s4 #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #lucas sinclair #nancy wheeler x steve harrington #stancy #max mayfield x lucas sinclair #lumax #stranger things fanfiction #rueleigh writes

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hannuhbee · 2 years

Text

𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗺𝘆 𝘁𝗼𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗿𝗼𝘄𝘀

steve takes you to chicago to get your mind off of everything. [wc; 4.9k]

pairing; steve harrington x fem!reader

warnings; swearing, mentions of death (no one dies though), mentions of violence, this is set sometime after season 3 but not in season 4, fluff, mutual pining, idiots in love, and steve being cute, one bed trope... hehehe.... not edited at all oops again

an; title is from all my tomorrows by frank sinatra solely because of the line "and all my tomorrows belong to you". i also don't know what the art institute of chiacgo was like in the 80's so it's probably not accurate LOL

it was a month after starcourt had gone down in a fire, according to the news. you and the others knew what actually happened, and it hurt to keep that tucked away.

it had been a month, and you were still hurting. your body was still sore, some bruises never healed, and your brain seemed to be permanently fried.

everyone was scared still, scared about what they would do if it came back, or if someone died.

will, jonathan, joyce, and el had left for california. seeing everyone saying bye hurt, made it feel like your heart was being ripped apart. it was for the best though, everyone knew that.

now, you were standing on the curb with a bag waiting for steve to pick you up. a month ago, he appeared under your window, asking if you'd like to go on a trip with him. just you and him. you met steve during all of this, and he'd taken a liking to you. he wasn't at all like his high school self. you liked him, and he liked you. you just didn't know that.

it was cold, the air was biting at your cheeks. it was early morning, around 3 am.

you got lost in your thoughts, something that happened often. you would often find yourself back in the mall, back in the russian base underneath getting beat up and drugged.

the headlights of the maroon BMW had pulled you out.

steve got out and give you a small smile. he didn't say anything as he opened the trunk for your bag. he still had the bat in there, just in case.

once you two got into the car, he smiled. "hi."

"hi."

"i'm sorry if this is weird." he apologizes. he was a new friend, and he thought that going on a trip with you was strange. it wasn't that strange.

you shook your head. "it's not. thank you for this."

"figured we needed a break, yeah?"

you nodded. "yeah. i'm scared though."

he started the car and began to drive off. "of what? i'm not gonna kill you."

you chuckled. "i didn't think you were. i'm just scared that... that something will happen when we're gone. like dustin will get into some shit and we won't be there to help."

steve glanced at you. he wished he wasn't driving so that he could stare at you more. he decided that it was stupid and weird of him to think that. "they'll be fine. i may or may not have threatened him. i think he'll be okay."

"i hope so. god, i'm just so, i don't know. i don't know."

"i know. me too."

steve reached over the center console to grab your hand where it rested on your leg. he was always one to engage in physical touch. it took you some time to get used to it.

"the drives like three hours. maybe more if we decide to stop." he says. the radio wasn't on, the only thing you could hear was his breathing and the engine. "you ever been to illinois?"

you shake your head. his hand was still on yours. your skin burned. "no. my mom always said it was cool though. you?"

"nope. my dad said the same thing. he's always up there for work trips. but uh, about your parents - they don't care?"

"i didn't tell them, but they wouldn't care. i think it's better that i'm gone, that they don't have to deal with me." you laugh, trying to hide the fact that you were almost in tears. your parent's attitudes had changed after starcourt. they hated that you had changed, that you weren't as smiley and carefree.

steve smiled at you. "i get that. fuck parents."

"fuck parents." you agreed.

you and steve had bonded over your family situations. he would call whenever he couldn't sleep, and most of the time you couldn't either. it was either his parents were gone and he was left alone, or his dad had said awful shit to him.

you had gotten so close to steve over the months that you would consider him your best friend. it angered you that his parents hurt him the way they did.

"are you okay?" you ask. it felt weird to ask that because he wasn't okay. no one really was.

his face was still bruised, and his cuts were still healing. "i'm hanging in there. are you okay?"

"hanging in there." you repeat. "your face has gotten better."

he laughed. "started taking care of the cuts and stuff, you'd be amazed at what a difference that can make."

"i bet. my back is still sore. can't believe that guy just threw-" you stop yourself and take a deep breath. "sorry. i'm glad you're hanging in there."

"glad you're hanging in there too." he stops at a red light and takes the opportunity to look at you. really looked at you. you were sure you looked tired, that you had bags and dark circles under your eyes. "let me know if you wanna go back, i'll take you back."

"i don't wanna go back. i wanna stay here." with you.

"good." he smiled, patting your thigh. you felt extremely cold when he put his right hand back on the steering wheel.

once you got out of hawkins fully, the air seemed lighter. it wasn't stale, it didn't hurt to breathe. steve seemed to feel it too, taking a deep breath at the "you are now leaving hawkins" sign.

"i wish we didn't have to come back." you say.

"me either, but the kids."

"the kids. one of these days."

he sighed. "i hope we can all leave sometime. maybe join the byers in california."

"i don't think i'd fit in there." you admit. you had this growing pain in your chest that you were never meant to leave indiana, that you were stuck in hawkins.

steve looks over and raises an eyebrow. "i think you'd fit in perfectly. you could definitely become a great actress or artist, maybe you could write books and stuff."

"i can't do all those things, steve."

he smiled. "yeah you can. i wish you could see how talented you are, babe."

babe. it played over and over again in your head. babe. babe. babe.

steve always used pet names, babe included. every time it gave you goosebumps. "whatever you say, harrington. you'd have a bigger chance of making it in la."

"'cause of the hair, yeah?" he asks and you nod. "knew it. my best feature, right?"

you wanted to be honest and say, no, your eyes, smile, and freckles. "yeah, you are steve the hair harrington, after all."

"oh shut up." he teases. he doesn't want to shut up. he could listen to you speak for hours on end and never get tired.

you finally reach the highway and you're really on your way to chicago. it's smooth sailing from now on. "do you have any plans for us? i don't know what there is to do in chicago."

he shrugs. he can feel his hands burn like they should be on you. you were ice that could relieve the pain. "i heard about some photography exhibits at the art institute. you like photography, right?"

"it's cool. i think that'd be fun."

"i think there's other things if that sounds boring, i didn't really think it through i'm sorry."

"steve." you cut him off. "it's okay, i think it'll be fun. i'm sure they'll be other things to look at too." you two share a look. "it'll be fun with you, i promise."

steve smiles. he can't form words. with you.

he looks around for a gas station. his tank was nearly empty. "shit, i didn't even think to fill up before i left. sorry."

"it's alright."

he finds a gas station and pulls into it. "do you want water? or like, corn nuts? i can go inside and get them."

"no, i'm fine. thank you though."

while steve was focused on the pump, you took the time to really look at his outfit. he had on an old and worn shirt with basketball shorts. and he looked good.

looking down at your outfit, you realized that while you wore basically the same things, you didn't look like him.

you had on gray shorts, cut from an old pair of sweatpants that had gotten too short. you had on a t-shirt, one that was probably your dad's. it was large on you, nearly covering your shorts.

"alright, let's get on the road again," he says, climbing back into the car.

it was still so early that the sun wasn't up yet. it excited you though, the thought of seeing steve in the sunset, a beautiful wash of reds and pinks on his face.

"can i put my feet on the dash? i'll take off my shoes."

"go ahead."

your eyes widened because steve never let anyone put their feet up on the dashboard.

the road is long and winding, it almost puts you to sleep. in fact, you are asleep by the time the sun comes up. so much for seeing steve in the light.

"babe. i think we should get some coffee, yeah?"

steve didn't like coffee, you did. he brought you to a cafe for you. "are we in chicago?" you rubbed your eyes.

he shook his head. "no, but we are in Illinois. just got here."

you nod and rub your eyes. the sun was bright, making you squint. "coffee."

"yeah, up." he motioned for you to sit up and get out of the car.

you felt weird about going into a cafe, a nice looking one, in your sleep clothes. steve didn't seem to care, so you tried not to either.

"holy shit, thank god." steve muttered, eyeing the toast and eggs on the menu.

the waitress came over a couple minutes after you sat down. "what can i get for you folks? i think i saw you looking at the toast and egg plate? it's very good." her tone was overly flirtatious. she looked much too old to be flirting with steve.

"yeah, i'll get that. uh, water too, please."

"got it, and for you?"

you smile. "just a coffee please. no milk or anything."

the waitress nods and leaves.

"no food?"

you shrug. "not that hungry."

steve leans back in the booth and nods. "maybe i'll find a nice burger joint or something. that sounds good, no?"

"it does."

you're quiet, too quiet. it felt strange, steve felt strange. "you okay?"

you shrug. "still scared i guess."

he puts his elbows on the table and leans over. "wanna talk about it? i'm a good listener."

"i don't know. i just feel scared. i've got goosebumps all the time, even when i'm not cold." you close your eyes.

steve hooks his ankle with yours under the table. "considering what we all went through, i'd say that's normal. i've been getting nightmares real bad lately. robin said that's normal."

"i'm sorry," you say. you haven't been having nightmares, but then again, your whole life recently felt like a nightmare.

"s'alright." he's silent for a few seconds, staring at you. "is it weird if i ask to hold your hand?"

you almost choke. "uh, no, i don't think so."

he reaches over to intertwine his fingers with yours. "you have nice hands."

"so do you." your voice is strained. he notices this and laughs.

"are you flustered?"

"oh my god, shut up."

he mimes zipping his lips and throwing away the key.

"you're insufferable."

"it's just in my blood, baby." his voice is awful and strangely low. it makes you laugh.

you point to him with your free hand. "your lips are supposed to be sealed!"

you two fall into a fit of laughter that undoubtedly has the other occupants giving you dirty looks.

with steve, you could forget that the world existed around you. when you were with him, it was just you and him.

"here's your food, and your coffee. enjoy." the woman smiles.

"so," steve starts, his mouth full of food. "i was thinking we could get there as soon as the place opens, and i don't know, change in the backseat of my car. is that weird?"

you shake your head, sipping the hot coffee. "i don't think so, i've done it plenty of times."

"i was also thinking that we leave today too, i didn't pack enough for multiple nights, and i don't think you did either."

"i didn't."

"you're a mind reader, harrington. plus, i think i can only handle so much of chicago." you laugh.

he nods, finishing his food. "right! i found a cassette in my car, pretty sure max left it. it's stuff i don't really know but it'll be nice to listen to some tunes, yeah?"

you smile at him. he looks so good in the sun, in the cafe. he just looks good. "yeah, it does."

you two finish and steve pays. he almost shoves you out of the cafe when you insist on paying. something about wanting to do nice things. steve is always doing nice things though.

it's a lot warmer when the sun is up, but you think it may just be Illinois itself. it wasn't haunted by a looming evil, surely that contributed to the warmth.

steve drove slower, cruising. his hand found its way to your thigh again, making you scream inside. the windows were down and he had sunglasses on. the sun was high enough that he didn't really need them, but he looked good so you didn't mention it.

the cassette he found was full of random songs that either of you didn't know. it was nice though like you had a little piece of home with you.

"you okay?" steve asked, lowering the music slightly.

"i'm okay."

"good. you were daydreaming again. anything new?" he asks. steve knew about what you saw when you daydreamed, what you smelled, what you felt. all of it in starcourt.

you shook your head, looking out the window again. "nope. i'm used to it though."

"wish you didn't have to be." he tried to smile, but it came out all wrong. "wish you weren't with us at all."

"you're my friend, all of you guys are my friends. i'm just glad everyone's safe."

"me too, glad you're safe."

something about the way he spoke to you made your butterflies grow in your stomach. but he didn't like you, him holding your hand didn't mean he liked you, he was a friend. that's what friends do.

"you get dressed, i'll be outside."

"right, my epic guard." you laugh.

steve parked the car a ways away to allow the most privacy. privacy in chicago was hard to come by though.

steve was sitting on the hood of the car, his back to you. you changed quickly. a worn pair of blue jeans and a tank top. it was red with navy horizontal stripes. totally not appropriate for the weather.

you climbed out of the back and sighed. "think i'm ready."

steve turned around and gasped dramatically. "oh heavens!"

"what?" you thought something was on your face, or your hair was messed up.

"you just look really good. like awesome."

"awesome," you repeat. his face turns a pink color, making you laugh. "you look awesome too, harrington."

"shut up." he laughs, pulling you into his side. his arm is around your shoulder as he leads you to the institute. "excited?"

anything is fun with you, you wanted to say. "yes."

whatever exhibit was open behind those doors excited you. it could be anything, really.

inside, you could tell that you were underdressed, both of you. it was full of older people in nicer clothes. they probably understood art more than you too.

there was a sign that read "SCENES FROM THE SUMIDA RIVER". yeah, you were excited.

it felt like an eternity passed while you walked around looking at everything while steve followed behind. his feet were dragging a little, concerning you. "are you tired?"

he shook his head. "not really. feet just hurt a little."

"you can go sit down, i can continue on my own."

steve nearly shouted then, because he wouldn't leave you. he couldn't leave you. the way your face lit up when you saw something that you liked, whether that be an interesting texture in the painting or the subject's emotion.

"i like watching you. kinda like you're art." he winced as he said it, knowing it was cheesy.

"shut up, cheese ball." you laugh quietly. because of your attire, you and steve got strange looks from the older folk, and you didn't want to get any more from being loud. "thank you though. that's sweet."

"i'm sweet." he says it in a sweet voice. it fits.

"i'm almost done looking by the way. my feet hurt too."

"you having fun?" he asks, putting his hand on the small of your back. it's strange then, though you're used to the touch.

you nod and continue looking at the painting in front of you.

"what's the meaning behind this one?"

you shrug. "no clue, pretty though." steve nods, he agrees, though, he would argue that you're prettier. he's too nervous to say that though.

"there's a lot of old women here, think some of them want to come onto me." he whispers and smirks.

you laugh. "oh definitely, everyone wants to get a piece of steve harrington." you hit his chest and walk away.

"are we leaving?" steve calls, a little louder than he should be. he jogs to catch up. "i kinda wanna leave."

"yeah, i'm done looking."

“you have fun?” he asks.

you nodded. “a lot. i’ll have to come back and see what else chicago has to offer.”

steve’s quiet as he thinks. “would i be allowed to join?”

you laugh and fight the urge to hit his shoulder. “idiot, you’re the only one with a car. of course, you’re allowed to join.”

he pumps his fist up. "hell yeah!" it's like he's a little kid again. it's sweet. "alright, let's rock and roll." and you're off before you can chastise him for that saying.

"no fucking way." steve mumbles as he pulls over to the side of the road. the car was driving a little funny and there was a squeaking noise.

"what's going on?"

"something broke, maybe the brakes? or the whole engine might be fucked... god i don't know!" steve shuts off the engine and climbs out. his stance is something familiar, with his hands on his hips shaking his head.

you get out too. "assuming you can't fix cars?"

"you're funny. i'm gonna call a tow truck or something." and he's off to a payphone, cursing under his breath.

with the sun going down, you started to shiver.

looking around you, the small town you were in was quiet, with no traffic noise or people's car radios being too loud. thankfully, in case you needed it, there was a motel nearby. it didn't look the best, but it seemed to have some vacancy.

"hey."

"jesus! you can't sneak up on me like that!" you hold your hand to your chest. steve had a bad habit of sneaking up on you.

"sorry. i called, it's gonna come soon. also called dustin just in case."

you nod and shift on your feet, the temperature uncomfortable. "probably for the best. don't want him breaking down your door when we don't come back right away."

he laughs and blows out a long breath. "i think we should get a room for the night." he nods his head in the direction of the motel.

"i was thinking that. i'll go get a room while you wait for the truck."

before steve can protest and tell you to not pay for anything, you're already far away from him. you can almost hear him sigh humorously.

it's empty when you walk inside. the bell above you moving, but making no noise. there's no bell on the desk, either. to get whoever attention, you cough loudly. a man appears from behind the desk. he was just sitting there. avoiding you?

"sorry, do you have a room?"

"one." the man speaks in an awful british accent and you almost think he may be faking it.

you throw down some bills on the desk, probably too many. "keep the change." you say when you notice his wide eyes.

he hands you a key with tape on the head that has 15 scribbled on it. it's old, the tape is almost falling off, losing its stick. it's silent, the man doesn't speak again, just nods when you leave.

it wasn't hot inside, but it was a helluva lot warmer in rather than out.

"holy shit, that was weird," you say to steve as you approach him. the tow truck hadn't come yet.

"yeah?"

"hopefully won't have to deal with him any more than we have to. tow trucks gonna come soon, yeah?"

he nods. "are you cold?"

you begin to say yes and he's already receiving a jacket from the back. "better?" he asks when it's around your shoulders. the little bits of skin that his hands had grazed felt warmer than the jacket could ever make you.

"yes. thank you."

he pats both of your shoulders and smiles. "'course."

the tow truck pulls up with it's brights on, effectively blinding both of you. a scary man hops out and almost jogs over. steve stands up a little straighter.

"you steve?"

steve nods. "that's me."

they continue a conversation a little ways away from you, probably about where the car will end up and when it'll get fixed.

a few minutes later and the car is being hauled away.

"i hope she'll be okay." steve says quietly.

"the car? you don't need to be so sad about it, it's probably fine."

"fucking better be."

your bags were already sitting on the ground. steve didn't need to pick up your bag, but he did anyway.

"lead the way."

you swing the key ring on your finger and walk to the room. "i'm gonna be honest, i'm not expecting the best motel room. sorry if it's like, gross."

anywhere is okay with you, he wanted to say.

steve wasn't paying attention when you opened the door, startled by your shouting. "holy shit!"

just your luck, just your fucking luck. one bed. it's like in the movies.

"i can't believe this," you mumble.

steve sets down the bags and puts his hands on his hips, observing. "i can sleep on the floor."

"you aren't sleeping on the floor, it'll be fine. just... this sucks." you wince at your choice of words. "i mean, it doesn't suck, having to sleep with you - i'm gonna shut up now."

steve laughs loudly, making your face heat up. "you're awful."

"i think i need to shower," you say, retrieving your pajamas from earlier. you needed to freshen up if you were going to be in a bed next to steve harrington.

you've fought russians, sort of, and crazy interdimensional monsters. all while steve harrington was making you the most nervous. what a world.

when you got out of the shower and spent an eternity making yourself look presentable, steve had been waiting on the bed. he wasn't under the covers or anything, he was just sitting down and staring at the wall. the cream colors of the wall weren't interesting to him, it was you he was thinking of.

his heart was beating out of his chest, and he hoped that you wouldn't be able to hear it when you got out.

before he could try and think of anything to make him less nervous, there you were. although cheesy, he thought you looked like an angel, all glowy and fresh and nice.

"hi."

"hi." you say quietly, making your way to the bed. it was a full bed, thankfully not a twin. it seemed a perfect size, not too big and not too small.

"you smell different."

"i had to use those shitty travel size shampoo and conditioner things. they don't smell good."

"i wasn't gonna say anything bad, i think they smell okay."

the conversation felt easy and normal. you loved how it was like that with steve.

"i'm sorry that this whole thing got fucked." he said, his voice small. "just wanted to do something nice for you."

"it's not your fault, steve. you can't know when your car is gonna die." you want to reach over and grab his hand. he beats you to it.

it's quiet. every so often you can hear a car pass, or a screech on the road, or a honk. the only light was the orange-ish fluorescent from the street lights. even in shitty lighting steve looked good, he looked like steve.

"you look nice." he says, moving out of the way to allow more light to your face. "really nice."

"are you hitting on me?"

he laughs and shakes his head. "absolutely not." his voice is dripping with sarcasm. "maybe."

"god, you're awful. i'm gonna get robin to beat your ass for being awful."

"she'd love that."

again, you fall into a comfortable silence. his fingers are still intertwined with yours.

you want to make him laugh. you turn to sit in front of him with your legs underneath you. "do you have a crush on anyone?"

"oh my god, stop that. feels like eighth grade all over again." he laughs. mission accomplished. "i'm tired."

"me too, i'll stop being childish."

"best you do that, i think. i'm not gonna sleep much if i'm laughing."

you both laugh again. it's awkward when you both try to get under the covers. much to your dismay, he lets go of your hand. when you're both situated, he doesn't grab it again.

you are both facing each other, however. that's a plus.

"how often do you have nightmares?"

he shrugs as well as he can from his position. it's a little weird. "more often than not."

"i'm sorry. what do i do if you have one tonight?"

again, he shrugs. "dunno. i don't even know what to myself."

you turn on your back to look at the ceiling. popcorn ceiling. "i'm sorry." you say again. steve didn't move from his position on his side. he liked looking at you.

"it's alright."

he still stares at your side profile until he thinks you're nearly asleep.

"yes."

"hm?" you stir.

"to your question earlier, the crush one. yes. you?"

you shift to look at him, mirroring his position yet again. "yes."

he smiles, you smile, no more words need to be shared. the way he looked at you said everything.

"night," he says quietly.

you reply quietly. "night."

steve falls asleep first. you like that, it allows you to admire him. even slightly bruised and cut up he still takes your breath away. the fact that he's less than a foot away makes it even worse.

in the morning, steve is shirtless and his legs are intertwined with yours. it freaks you out a little bit.

he's stirring at the same time you wake up, not fully wanting to open his eyes.

you're looking at the freckles that are on his shoulders. like constellations.

"oh sorry, it got hot."

"shitty motel heating," you say. you don't want to make any notice to your legs, the closeness.

he laughs. "must be." he rubs his eyes. "it's bright in here."

"yeah, i was gonna get up and close the blinds but..."

he notices your legs and chuckles. "sorry."

"don't be." it's nice, you want to say. "i don't think you had a nightmare."

he thinks for a second. "no, i don't think i did."

"maybe we should do this every night," you say it like it should be a joke, and you hope steve takes it that way and laughs. he doesn't,

"maybe."

you are so close. so close.

he leans in and you feel as if you're going to explode. he's going to kiss you, he's 100% going to kiss you.

"i think we should go get the car," he smirks. it's awful. your face is hot and your eyes are wide.

"uh. definitely. yeah."

he untangles himself from you and puts his shirt back on.

inside of the mechanics is cold. the ac was on high, not much different than the chill outside.

whoever was working on his car was blasting music, old music.

you were drifting, it was easy to fall asleep when steve was pushed into your side.

steve's arm burned from how much he wanted to wrap it around your shoulder and pull you even closer to him. he hums the song he can hear. it's faint, but loud enough that he can hear the lyrics.

but i've got a lot of plans for tomorrow

and all my tomorrows belong to you.

he thinks of you. how he would like to spend all of his tomorrows with you, whether that be in chicago, or in a shitty motel with one bed, or in a russian secret base.

the underlying feeling of dread and hurt still lingered, but with steve by your side, it was a lot more bearable.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fluff

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youreobsessedwithtoomanyfandoms · 2 years

Text

What If It Was Different?

Words: 1315

Warnings: angst, mentions of a near death experience, mention of childhood trauma, probably poor writing but whatever

STRANGER THINGS Masterlist Main Masterlist

I also wanted to make this fluffy but then decided that nah, just plan angst works fine. So prepare to be saddened once again

SMALL STRANGER THINGS SEASON 4 VOL 2 SPOILERS (JUST WHAT HAPPENED IN IT WITH OUT THE DEATH)

I also did this fic based off of The 30th by Billie Eilish purely because the bridge was stuck in my head. Like that is LITERALLY the only reason I did it

Anywho, enjoy

Sometimes, you look the same Just like you did before the accident When you're starin' into space It's hard to believe you don't remember it Woke up in the ambulance You pieced it all together on the drive

Y/N glanced at Eddie. He was staring off into space again. She sighed and turned back to Steve. "Some days are better than others."

"What do you mean by that?"

She shrugged, "Like he did before everything with Vecna and the Upside Down."

Steve nodded, "I've noticed."

"Sometimes it's crazy to think he doesn't really remember what happened. He said that it felt one moment he was running to help distract the Demobats and then the next he was in an ambulance. He told me that he pieced everything together while on the ride to the hospital."

Steve placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, "He'll be fine eventually, Y/N. I'm sure of it."

She looked back at Eddie, "I'm sure he will physically. But not mentally. I don't think you could ever repair everything that had happened to him mentally. It brought up a lot of his childhood trauma."

"What do you mean?"

"Like with what happened with his mom." She sighed and looked back to Steve, "She died of a 'freak accident' when he was ten. His dad was later found guilty and that was when he was permanently placed into the care of his Uncle."

"I don't remember that."

"Most parents tried to hid it from their kid. Said it was too 'traumatizing' and other things."

Steve scoffed, "Why are so many parents like that?"

She just shrugged again, "I wish I knew." She sighed and glanced at her watch. "We better get going anyways. He has some therapy in the morning. I'll see you later Steve."

He nodded and waved as she walked over to Eddie, "Drive home safely."

She made a signal that he understood him before she reached her boyfriend. "Eds?" She made sure she had known he had heard her before placing a gentle hand on his arm. "Are you ready to go?" He looked at her the way he always used to when he was telling her that he had been for a while. She carefully took his hand in hers and they quietly walked out of Steve's large house.

In a standstill on the 5 Thought it was unusually early traffic Usually, I don't panic I just wanted to be on time When I saw the ambulances on the shoulder I didn't even think of pullin' over I pieced it all together late that night

They were silent as they walked to her car. And stayed silent for a large amount of the drive home. It wasn't until they were nearly there that he spoke. Almost as if he had just come back from dissociating again. Which Y/N knew could have been possible. "What was it like? The drive from the trailer to the hospital?"

She raised an eyebrow at her boyfriend, "What do you mean?"

His voice was still soft, "Everything had just happened. What is now said to have been an 'earthquake'. What was it like driving through that to the hospital?"

She sighed for what felt like the millionth time, "I remember that there was almost no vehicle traffic yet. Which made the fact that I was practically speeding a way easier job. I usually don't panic of these things, but I was. I was panicking that we wouldn't get there in time and something would happen to you." She pulled into the grassy part next to Eddie and Wayne's new trailer and looked at Eddie. "I remember that I didn't fully piece together everything that had happened until late that night when I was watching your heart monitor. I remember I was just staring at it as everything went into the correct spot."

"I remember you were crying when I woke up that night. I didn't know when you had gotten there. I had just assumed that the Nurse asked for if anyone was there for me. And you were. Never thought of the truth."

She smiled at him softly, "You really couldn't remember much?" She pulled her arm over and brushed some of his hair from his face, "What's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

What if it happened to you on a different day? On a bridge where there wasn't a rail in the way? Or a neighborhood street where the little kids play? Or the Angeles Crest in the snow or the rain? What if you weren't alone? There were kids in the car What if you were remote? No one knows where you are If you changed anything, would you not have survived? You're alive, you're alive, you're alive

He looked at her with tears in his eyes, "Sometimes I wonder, 'What if this all had happened on a different day? What if Chrissy didn't want the drugs? What if I hadn't ran when everything with her happened? What if Vecna hadn't chosen her or had chosen me instead? What if I had been alone? That you and Dustin hadn't believed in me so much. What if my Uncle had been home? Or you or Dustin had been over even. What if I had not everything differently, would I even be alive?' And then I just sit here and try to remind myself that I am alive. That those damn bats didn't get me. That '86 really ended up being my year."

"Eddie, I-"

"And sometimes I just stand there and have to keep reminding myself that I'm alive. That I did survive that. And that you're still here by my side."

She moved her hand up to wipe his the tears that had fallen from his eyes. She left her hand against his cheek and he leaned into it. His soft brown eyes staring into her Y/E/C ones. "You are right. You're alive. That dammed bats didn't get you. And maybe, just maybe, if something had been slightly different, then everything would be. But we can't tell that. We just need to focus on the here and now. The fact that you are alive and that you did survive this." He said nothing and she kissed his nose softly, "I love you Eddie Munson. I hope you know that."

He nodded, "I do."

She smiled at him, "Good. Don't you ever forget that."

And I know you don't remember calling me But I told you even then you looked so pretty In your hospital bed, I remember you said You were scared And so am I

He stayed quiet for a few moments before he started laughing. She gave him a confused look before he spoke. "I don't even remember telling them to ask you to come back. But I remember how you told me I looked pretty in the hospital bed." He sighed and leaned his head again the car window, "I remember you telling me how terrified you had been that I wasn't gonna make it." He closed his eyes, "But I never told you that I had been scared as well. Every second that passed I kept saying, 'This is it. I'm going to die soon.' But it never came." He opened his eyes and turned to look at her carefully. And his next word came out almost as a whisper, "And sometimes I still think that."

Her hand had moved to lay on his thigh, "Is that why you sometimes just stop everything?"

He nodded, "I know I shouldn't be this way, but I can't help it."

"I know." She put a finger under his chin and slowly moved his head to look at her. "Wanna know something?" He hummed, "Sometimes I'm terrified that this is all some dream and that I'm going to wake up to the news that you didn't make it. Sometimes I question if this is even real because it doesn't feel like it should be. But when I wake up to see you still by my side, I remember how happy you looked when you saw me after everything with Chrissy. And then when they told me you were okay and that the bats hadn't killed you, I remember feeling so fucking happy. And I made a promise to myself when it all happened. Want to know what it was?"

"What was it?"

"It was that I was going to live my life everyday with you as if it was our last. Because I realized that if you had died that day, I wouldn't know what to do and would feel terrible because I felt like we hadn't done enough. So I want to live like one of us could die the next second because we never know. And I don't want either of us to wish that we had more time with the other."

He smiled and kissed her. "I love you so fucking much Y/N/N."

"And I love you so fucking much Eds."

#eddie #munson #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #stranger #things #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #x reader #imagine

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ataraxetta · 11 months

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youtube

Three of Bruce's Audio Logs from the Gotham Knights game that hit me like a punch. The first is directly after Barbara's injury and mostly about Jason's death, the next is about missing Dick and wishing he could make things right between them, and the third is about Jason coming back into the fold and some Lazarus Pit pondering. Text is below under the cut, but Bruce's voice actor does some amazing work here with adding emotional depth, so I suggest listening if it is a thing you might be into!

LOG ENTRY BT-45 - SPIRAL

"Log entry BT-42...

Alfred, I can't do this. Not now.

[Alfred: If you don't make time for this now, Master Bruce, then when will you? Take all the time you need.]

I didn't know so much could go wrong. There's nowhere else I can go. Dick stopped by Gotham again. Our meetings lately have been...strained. I pushed him away. And this time I don't know if he'll ever come back. He worried about my 'obsessions.' But I wasn't focused nearly enough. If I was, then Barbara--

She got hurt. Paralyzed. Maybe permanently. Because she was trying to help me. I let her take on too much. I should have been there. I Failed her. Barbara, and Dick, and... Jason.

Jason barely got a chance. He could have been great for Gotham. The best kind of Robin. But he was reckless. Rushing into danger like that--No. I'm responsible for this. After being too strict with Dick, I tried to give Jason more freedom. I should have been paying more attention. He went off on his own to be a hero. Then that monster MURDERED him for it.

He was killed because of me.

I'd do anything to fix this. Things I said I'd never do.

Like speak with Talia again. I swore to myself I'd NEVER consider using a Lazarus Pit. The risks, even compared to death, were too great. But I had to know if resurrection was even possible. But when I tracked her down, I couldn't even ask for her help. One more thing I got wrong. And Talia just laughed. I broke almost every rule I have to bring Jason back. And I have nothing to show for it. He's really gone."

Sixteen...

Batman failed-- I failed everyone.

I don't know how to make any of this right. But I'm going to find a way."

LOG ENTRY BT-70 - FATHER AND GRAYSON

"Log entry BT-70.

I don't often have dreams. But this morning, I woke up from one about Nightwing.

Dick came back to Gotham. We sat right here in this room. Together. He let me explain myself, apologize for pushing him away. I found all the words I should have said before he left. That's how I knew none of it was real. He asked me about something we used to talk about. Batman's legacy. You know, 'who wears the cowl when Bruce Wayne can't?'

For years, I thought I had the answer. Every time I looked at Dick Grayson, I saw the next Batman.

But Dick never wanted it.

I've been monitoring his activities in Bludhaven. It's amazing what he's accomplished on his own. His way. With courage and kindness. I see it clearly now. I don't want Nightwing to become Batman. I need Batman to be more like Nightwing.

Despite everything, I just wish he was home, so we could talk. REALLY talk. I'd tell him how proud I really am. That Nightwing is the better version of what Batman was meant to be. That because of Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne became a better man.

I'd tell my son that I miss him.

I'll tell him the next time he comes back. He doesn't need me bothering him.

He doesn't need me at all."

LOG ENTRY BT-57 - BACK FOR GOOD

"It's been two months since I confronted Red Hood.

Wanted Criminal. Confirmed Killer. Jason.

At first, I didn't want to believe it. But after that shock came hope. He's still driven by a sense of justice. There's still a part of him I can recognize as Robin.

He's talking to me, but... he's so angry. Not so much at his murderer, but at me.

I deserve his anger. He was just a child when I put him in harm's way. I pushed him too hard, too fast. He's made it clear that he'll never let go of his desire for vengeance. But he's come to understand that violence has its limits.

I can only be grateful Jason's meeting me halfway. He's accepted counseling. We're finding a way to move forward. He's even suggested we work on a new kind of pistol for him, together. Something that's more... Bat-friendly. I have some reservations about that, but he insists it's possible, and his prototypes are promising. He's making an incredible effort to come back from that cliff, to be a better man.

So far, I've been unable to find out what happened between Jason's murder and his appearance on Gotham's streets as the Red Hood. His amnesia seems total, but not necessarily irreversible. Maybe with time he'll remember...

Alfred and I ran every test we could think of. The last one confirmed my suspicions. We found evidence he'd been exposed to a Lazarus Pit. Was Jason revived by Ra's? Talia? Another faction or cult?

Ra's has healed his injuries, no matter how severe, in Lazarus Pits. Ongoing exposure has rendered him practically immortal, though at the cost of his humanity. Ra's original goal when he founded the League was to destroy a corrupted society to then rebuild it in a purer form. Now, he seems to have lost sight of any reconstruction. He views all human beings as irredeemably flawed, even Talia.

For all his anger, Jason is nothing like that. My working theory is that a single, short exposure to a Lazarus Pit won't cause a permanent shift in personality. But I need to learn more, for Jason's sake.

I won't lose him again."

#bruce wayne #jason todd #dick grayson #barbara gordon #gotham knights #gotham knights spoilers #I have trouble believing Bruce would ever audio log like this but idc I will take it #everyone is more emotionally mature in this game #sometimes to its detriment #but this is just nice #and his va in this game is just really really good #sorry for typos I wrote this up quickly with hardly a spell check #Youtube

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astro-can · 9 months

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why i love shinobu and why you should too

its in the title.

lets start. this is directed to all shinobu haters and no i will not say this politely.

! SPOILER ALERT !

mfs be like "i hate shinobu because she's all ara ara and she bullies giyuu 🥸" do you have ANY OTHER VALID REASON???

you guys think shinobu bullies giyuu? ok then, where's the sanemi slander? where's the obanai slander? shinobu is the only one who actually makes an EFFORT to TALK to giyuu because he's all lonely and stuff and the things she says are her just teasing him, while sanemi and obanai out there telling giyuu to close his mtherfcking mouth and quit the demonslayer corps 😀 shinobu's canon impression of giyuu is a simple "he should talk more" while sanemi and obanai's impressions are "he's so fucking annoying and ugh and shit"

giyuu's impression of shinobu is "she talks to me often. she's earnest and hardworking. she looks unwell at times." he def knows that she's just teasing him and although he may be a lil oblivious he doesn't take her words to heart. but FANON shinobu is all "oh you should jump off a climp tomioka-san *insert high laughter here*"

also, is what she says WRONG? she says "you have no friends, you're so lonely" bc its true. my bro gotta make more friends. she's trying to make him open up to his fellow hashira more.

i was on pinterest and saw a whisper that said "idk why yall hate on shinobu, she's literally such a well-written character" and i was like YES PREACH but there was this one comment that said,

"she left kanao and aoi. what was she thinking about drinking all that poison? after getting killed, she left douma to kanao and kanao would've been killed if it weren't for inosuke. she was so driven by revenge that she lost sight of the people that are still in her life, like the butterfly mansion girls, etc etc. and kanao and inosuke aren't even strong enough to kill douma, it was just for plot armour."

be quiet. shinobu drank that poison to assist kanao in killing douma. kanao went along with the plan, and she was fully aware that she had to fight douma for as long as she could until shinobu's poison came into effect. kanao and inosuke together are most definitely strong enough to take on an upper moon demon, though they would've been killed if it wasn't for shinobu's poison. shinobu was HELPING THEM. if shinobu hadn't sacrificed herself, inosuke and kanao would've died, douma would've lived and prob killed the other butterfly mansion girls, and most importantly, tanjiro would've permanently become a demon bc kanao wouldn't have been here to inject the drug into him. shinobu sacrificed herself for the sake of the people that she cared about. the butterfly mansion girls were def sad at her death, but keep in mind that shinobu played a pivotal role in the destruction of demons and kanao and inosuke would not be alive if it weren't for her.

"she's always smiling, it's so annoying"

"lol shinobu can't even get over kanae's death, what a loser"

people who say that obviously don't know what happened to her in the past. her sister was killed by douma, and before she died, kanae had told shinobu "i wish you would smile more often, your smile is beautiful". after kanae's death, shinobu always wore a smile so that her juniors and the butterfly mansion girls would've had to worry about her. she's in a near-constant state of anger, but she masks it all behind a smile. you think its annoying? you think its easy to get over your only family's death? you think she's a loser for only wanting the best for her juniors? well, congratulations, you are certified as the most stupid person to exist. you try having to live through the death of your beloved parents, sister, and juniors. if you don't love your family then imagine someone you care for the most getting killed. do you think you could always have a smile on your face after that? shinobu isn't strong physically but she sure does have the strength to not crumble under pressure and sadness.

shinobu is a very well written character and i respect the author of kny for creating her. if you're going to hate her for no valid reason, i suggest you think again.

thank you for coming to my ted talk and stay tuned for my next tumblr post: why i think tanjiro is the best mc and why you should too

#kimetsu no yaiba #demonslayer #kny #shinobu kocho #shinobu #giyuu tomioka #slander #shinobu slander #obanai #sanemi #kanae #kanao #inosuke #rant

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rocknrollsalad · 2 months

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STWG Daily Prompt - Reunion no ship

The thing they don't tell you about the end of the world is how crazy the aftermath is. Steve just fought a weird vine guy after being eaten alive by bats. He carried Eddie out with half the weight of Dustin who wasn't able to separate from his new best friend. But no sooner did they fall out of the hole in Eddie's trailer than they were separated. Everyone.

Robin was pulled away in one direction, Nance in another. People swarmed Eddie and fought off Dustin. Someone came and got Steve, waking him from the sleep of a lifetime. The second the strange hand rest on his shoulder, reality crushed Steve. He dropped to the floor, folding in on himself.

Whoever was tasked with looking after him was calm though. Steve didn't remember what they said, what they looked like, or anything other than the comforting voice beside him. And asking for Robin.

After that, Steve remembered this room. Too white and sterile, like his breathing ruined things. The bed was comfortable, not like that time he broke his leg at practice and had to wait for his parents. Harsh fluorescent lights keep the room bright at all hours of the day. No one bothered him, no one checked in either. He was given meals and one time a guy claiming to be a doctor came in.

No one would deliver news on his friends, even as Steve yelled himself hoarse. Which didn't take much. It was depressing and lonely. The only thing Steve wanted was out but they weren't helping with that either.

Who knew how many days went by, without nightfall or darkness Steve didn't know how to mark time's passage. It felt like a lifetime, like if there were a mirror to be found he could watch his hair graying.

The loss of time wasn't as bad as being away from his people. His family both biological and chosen. Steve didn't have a word on any of them. Was Eddie alive and well? What happened to Max? Are the Sinclairs safe? Steve hadn't seen them after Vecna's death.

Eventually, he learned they were monitoring his injuries. Besides Eddie, Steve had the most contact with a beast from the Upside Down and lived to talk about it. They released him from bedrest, at least, but didn't allow visitors.

Time stretched on, measured in laps around the room. He was a bug in a harsh white-lit jar and provided nothing interesting. Everything felt the same, he wasn't growing extra limbs or sleeping for forty-eight straight hours. He was...him. Healing and bored, wishing for a spoon to tunnel his way out.

This was starting to feel permanent, his new home. So when the door opened, Steve expected a nurse. Maybe a doctor or that therapist but one of a few faces he'd been allowed to see and barely talk to. Instead, Robin walked into focus.

Steve liked to think he wasn't much of a crier. There were a few times, mostly out of anger, but it wasn't like he was crying at commercials like his mom. However, tears started to flow instantly. Nothing could be done to stop them. Steve was crying and not in a dainty, put together way like his mom but the sort that happens in private, when no one else can see.

A few steps behind her, Dustin said "Yikes." and stopped Robin in her tracks so Dustin would catch up and receive the punch to the arm he deserved. Lucas, Erica, Nancy, and Jonathan followed Dustin, each with a different sound of annoyance.

"I thought they were keeping you in here forever," Robin whispered.

"Me too," Steve said with a sniff, brushing his hand under his nose and trying to quell all these emotions.

"Okay, c'mon. We can talk later," Nancy said, pushing through and doing what the rest of them just couldn't muster; wrapping her arms around Steve. "I'm glad you're okay."

With Nancy's permission, almost, the rest followed. One by one they found their place and wrapped their arms around Steve and everyone else. It said a lot of stuff none of them wanted to put words to. Things Steve didn't have words for either.

Not that he cared. He was happy to be back with them, happy to be able to have answers. Something they could talk about in a few minutes. Right now, he was going to enjoy this.

#(it feels weird filling this prompt when I know it was given for something very very very specific)#(and this isn't it)#(but this idea wouldn't leave me)#hey everyone come see what i wrote now #stwgdailyprompt #also i lost my streak and i hate myself for that but I don't hate this so like win???

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stardancerchronicles · 5 months

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Journal of Xivz, fate of the Altitude pack.

---Entry_1--- Location: Silus 3-X Date: 23/5/10 Status: CRITICAL It's been fourteen years, at least by this planet's standards, since the pack wiped eachother out. No small feat, that. From what I can glean, they had been together since the beginning. But even the bonds of pack may yet be broken, through isolation and madness. Through being left with no comms, no estimate on return, and no way off this damnable planet that wasn't Nexus-locked. Take all that and lay it on heavy over the span of four months, and you can undo what was done over the course of 226 collective years. Alcoholism claimed Nuriel, the brightest among them and the first to see their plight for what it was: hopeless. She succumbed to alcohol poisoning, locked in her room and never to be discovered. Jiiv and Losk had killed everyone else, convinced that the oracle cult was somehow behind all of this, and that there were traitors in their midst. Jiiv soon succumbed to his injuries, as nobody knew just how brutal Ungail, my mother, could be. Not until she lost her mind that is. As for Losk, it's a damn good thing he never found out about his nephew. Not until it was too late for him, of course. That leaves me here. Us, here. Somehow keeping my sanity more than if any of them were still around. Or maybe I just never had any to begin with. Being raised by Nexus programs around the perfectly preserved corpses of my kin could probably do something like that. At least the simulations say I have a "high likelihood of severe psychiatric dysfunction". I couldn't tell you what that means in laymen's terms. Probably not important. Well if anyone ever reads this, they'll now know what happened to poor little Xivz, and their pack of lunatics... I'm going to take a long, cold nap until the storm blows over in 3 1/2 months. Damn this planet to oblivion.

---Entry_2--- Location: Silus 3-X Date: 17/9/10 Status: CRITICAL Storm is over, at least for this short time being. Miteru, ever the diligent one even in death. He's been sure that my hunting efforts have had plenty of traps that are more effective at catching Avali than roulon herds. In fact I'm currently taking the downtime that my nanites will need to restructure my leg to write this entry. Not a chance in hel that I'd be taking the time to otherwise. This is the kind of cold that will draw you in and make you part of it, if you let it. Miteru learned that the hard way. Sometimes I still visit them, along with the rest of them back at their "permanent" camp. What secrets did they take with them to the grave? What regrets? What passions fueled them to such a tragic end? I suppose I'll never know. At the very least, Father passed on the postmortem wisdom that's as old as time. It goes a little something like: "Don't get forced out of an airlock by your fanatical ex-friend into a polar super-cyclone". Words to live by, the poet he was. Just wish he'd stop causing me such grievous injury on hunting trips…

---Entry_3--- Location: Silus 3-X Date: 21/9/10 Status: CRITICAL Yeah yeah I know, so soon im back? Well maybe im getting fond of you, but don't let it get to your head. Oh Ungail, see me now, playing coy with a data logger? As if the voices weren't enough. But no matter. The simulations say it'd be healthy to keep a journal, and so keep a journal I shall. Intuit is telling me that it'll help keep me sane, and by extension, alive. Alive. I wonder what it'd be like sometimes, to not have to keep myself alive. To no longer fight, and hunt, and chase, and claw for just a few more days simply, surviving. It must be a good life, to be able to run simulations all day. To play games with your packmates, grow up, get into trouble with them. I've heard of the wildest things on what little bits of the Nexus that are downloaded onto the data-pads and implants of the others. Honestly, still wish I hadn't gotten as curious as to... Extract. the implants of some of them. Especially Losk. He was, fucked up to a deeper extent than I think any of them realized, even in his final moments. But what's done is done, and I'm not keen to look at his face again after what I've had to do to it. But while Emote told me not to, Grit urged me onwards. And sometimes, you just have to make a judgement call. And given all the things I've learned of… Sometimes I wonder if it was the right call, to learn about the outside world. Because I wouldn't be asking the question of "what if I didn't have to fight" if I didn't know there was any other option. Thinking too hard on this is making my heart hurt. I'm going to take a nap and stop journaling for a bit.

---Entry_4--- Location: Silus 3-X Date: 8/5/14 Status: CRITICAL Well, it's been a long time hasn't it? Looking back, I can understand why I took such a long break. That kind of deep thought is something that everybody except Emote tells me not to do. I suppose I should clarify what the hell I'm talking about, huh? Well, Let's meet the cast of my brain! Or however that show went. The simulations say that I've developed voices for many of the emotions i feel, but I say that's a lie. They developed voices whether I wanted them to or not. Like my own demented pack members, except the only thing they do is keep me alive, instead of get drunk and kill each other. In any case, We have: Intuit: Helps me with the logical stuff. He's my right hand… voice. Surv: Good at seeing better ways through things that keep me more or less alive. Quite reliable, good advice. Grit: As the name implies, they get me to make tough choices, especially ones that I don't want to make. Tough love, I think they've called it. Emote: Weakest voice. Often in conflict with the others, yet, I still need them. I can't let them make me weak too, but I cannot become numb to them. And, that's about it for now. There are no other thoughts with voices, well, not yet. I don't think I could handle many more. As it stands, I keep my own conversations quite well enough as is thank you. But it is nice to let them sort it out amongst themselves and, speak as myself, to… well, nobody. There's nobody here and, if Intuit is to be believed, nobody will be. But still, its nice and free of the usual deliberation that plagues my mind. I think this one has gone considerably better than the last. I'll be back soon. Don't you go anywhere aye?

---Entry_5--- Location: Silus 3-X Date: 10/5/14 Status: CRITICAL

I HATE STUPID THING WHY EVEN SAY CRITICAL??? IM FINE. RIGHT HERE!!!. I CAN'T BE BOTHERED, WITH YOU AND YOUR, YOUR GAMES RIGHT NOW, MACHINE. I'LL GO THE WAY OF NURIEL IF YOU

OH, ITS ON? I, IT HAD A TALK TO TEXT FEATURE THIS WHOLE, TIME AND AND I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW OF COURSE I FIND OUT ABOUT THIS WHILE DRUNK ON WHATEVER SHE LEFT BEHIND UGH, THIS STUFF TASTES LIKE DEATH. WHY DID I EVEN TRY IT??? ITS HORRID. I, I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M DOING HERE. WHY I'M EVEN ALIVE AND THE VOICES WONT STOP AND THE VOICES THEY WONT SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT

---Entry_6--- Location: Silus 3-X Date: 11/5/14 Status: CRITICAL I apologize for that. My simulation says I should reframe my embarrassment into a haiku. I don't know what the significance of the syllables is, or why this will help, or why Emote is agreeing with the others on this for once, but I'll try. I got super drunk I did not have a good time Won't do that again Somehow, that feels a little bit better now.

---Entry_7--- Location: Silus 3-X Date: 2/11/14 Status: CRITICAL I have some big news to share with you. Significant enough to write down, instead of just talking to the voices about it. WE FINALLY GOT A TRANSPONDER PING!

Now, its not a rescue vessel, it's not even recognizably Avali tech, so don't get too excited now. But the signal is very much drawing closer to this forsaken planetary system, so if its coming out to ancestors-know where for ancestors-know why? Then it's probably a planetary surveyor, and it's probably going to survey mine. And you BET that I'm gonna be there when it comes down, I am NOT spending the rest of my life on this planet. I'll be there if its the last thing I do. I truthfully don't know how much longer I'll be able to survive here. Not for lack of food, the Roulon are making good on that. But if I have to listen to the voices in my head arguing amongst themselves one more time, why I think i might start losing my sanity! At least they're all in agreeance that we have to be there for that ship.

As for what to do if we encounter anybody else on it… Well, then they don't agree as much anymore…

---Entry_8--- Location: Silus 3-X Date: 7/1/15 Status: CRITICAL Sure enough, my predictions were correct. They've touched down on Silus 6-X, and are now on bearing for 5-X, after inevitably finding 6-X to be an uninhabitable helhole. Just like the rest of them. Just like this one. Oh ancestors, I hope that they don't give up before they get here. Maybe I can throw together some kind of distress beacon if I need to, but what if they will leave, or attack me if they knew I were here? or simply don't have the supplies to onboard me? No, it's safer to let them come here of their own volition. Safer for me, at the very least. Even if it is a drone. My life has been pretty much consumed by paying attention to this.

The voices theorize about it. about the outside world as well. It's, overwhelming. And I don't think about it too much, or the simulations say I could have an… Incident, on par with Entry_5. I do not want that. I do miss being able to think about the littler things though. Such as fixing up my hunting armor, or meticulously agonizing over the chimes that I'd fantasized about dressing up with, but never got around to. But, the possibilities opening up is worth it, so worth it. We can worry about the littler things once the bigger picture is open to us.

---Entry_9--- Location: Silus X System Time: 16/7/15 Status: CRITICAL Sooooo, a... a lot has happened. And I haven't fully processed it, so: The ship arrived onto this planet. And I met it there, obviously. I even wore my chimes, against the judgement of… Everybody other than Emote. But I still kept them in their muffling pouches on the approach. The ship was indeed manned. It's, strange. To meet other living, thinking beings. It's like how the simulations were, but… more real. I mean they were SIGNIFICANTLY more psychotic than the simulations were...

Aren't we all at this point though? They brought me on board, of course. But, they are also space pirates. So, I guess that I'm a bonafide space pirate now! It certainly beats being alone. But it also means that I'm stuck with a bunch of lunatics who kill and steal for a living, alone, with zero social skills, and very little trust. So I'll have to prove myself. The simulations say that I'm very unlikely to get through this without blood on my hands. But they also say that, If I play my cards right, at least it wont be my blood. Intuit agrees. Intuit also says that I should be very, veeery close with a very specific one. A tall "protogen", looks like hes been torn apart and put back together physically, almost more than I have been mentally. How fitting that I should imprint onto a robot, when I was raised by them.

#oc #oc writing #writing #creative writing #avali

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starlitdumbass · 1 year

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you once said that if hinata met konan, she might of joined the akatsuki — can i ask why? hinata joining the akatsuki seems sk fun, but i can't think of a concrete reason why she would.

OH MAN I COULD GO ON AND ON ABOUT THIS

Sorry for the long rant I'm about to go on.

To start I think Hinata would go rogue before anything else. This is all based on my opinion on her character so take none of it to heart.

Hinata is a disgrace to her clan, so much so that her father didn't even allow her to undergo her clan's special training. Shee couldn't bring herself to fight her sister, which honestly she probably could have won against hanabi given that it's shown at points that she is a good fighter when she puts her mind to it. It's just that she couldn't find it in herself to go all out on her sister.

Her relationship with neji was permanently ruined due to her indirectly being part of the reason his father was killed and the reason he received the mark. Even so she always tried to maintain a sibling like relationship with him even though he didn't care to anymore.

It doesn't really seem like it because they never go as in depth as they could but emotionally she is going through hell. Even with the support of her team I think eventually she'd start to have an identity crisis that could lead to her to going rogue. Not because she's against her clan or the hidden leaf but because she feels like she's not good enough. Like she doesn't deserve to be along side everyone else because she can't keep up. She's falling behind and too scared to catch up. It's pathetic and she knows it but she doesn't know what else to do. She's wishes she could be someone else. Someone brave, someone strong.

When she leaves she's scared out of her mind and knows that it's stupid but she doesn't go back. She can't. Going back to face everyone and admit she ran away because she felt like she wasn't good enough? A pathetic excuse. She knew death would be better then that. So she kept going on a path to nowhere. Leaving the life she had behind and starting anew.

Maybe when she first goes rogue someone at a random village tells her to throw the person she once was away if she doesn't like it and become what the person she wants to be, trying to encourage her on her journey. But she takes it the wrong way because what she wanted was to become someone worthy of being a Ninja. Which in her mind was an emotionless warrior. So she pursues just that.

She deals with everything alone cause she feels like that's the only way she can become 'better'. She can't rely on anyone and the best way to ensure she doesn't is to stay alone. All while also avoiding getting caught cause of course her clan along with konoha is searching for her. She also tells people she meets she's a boy to help through off their tracks.

Her training mostly comes from run ins with other rogues and such that leave her in pretty bad condition at times but she's not dead so she learns to deal with the pain. When she has the time she practices her technique and fine-tunes it. When she's stronger she starts taking on mercenary jobs in random villages to further help her training. Soon she buries the person she once was and becomes the empty warrior she was aiming for. But now she has no purpose for it. She can't go back to konoha and truthfully she doesn't want to. So what now?

And that's were the akatsuki part comes in. I think she'd join because the person she is now just wants a mission to complete. There doesn't have to be a reason provided, just tell her what, who and point her in the right direction.

Hinata would somehow run into konan by accident and she'd know who Hinata was due to hearing about konoha looking for a pale eyed girl through the grapevines. Instead of Konan using her as a lure she offers her a spot among the akatsuki as she'd could be useful with her power. Hinata accepts it cause it's a mission.

I don't think they'd really be close but konan would be the one to give Hinata her alias name (Lotus) and a paper flower to accompany it. She'd be the only one who knew Hinata's true identity as well.

Also the amount of fun I have thinking about the type of relationship this would create between Hinata and Neji. The drama would be so fun but that's for another time.

I haven't really flushed out this au well cause I know it's just me and my silly obsession with her and the potential she had. To summarize it, I think Hinata would go rogue and lose herself completely which would open the door to her joining the akatsuki. The reason I say Konan is because she's the only other member (besides Kisame maybe) that I feel like would offer instead of using her as bait or trying to sale her off.

Anyway I'm sorry for the terrible explanation but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless and and thank you for the ask.

#ask #i enjoyed this very much i love ranting about hinata so much!!!#she is my baby girl 💜💜#i want to make more aus with her where her personality doesn't revolve around naruto #this was nice cause im going through a lot right now and being able to talk about my fav really helps me relax

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galaxythreads · 1 year

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1, 2 (b – may I also ask what colour?), 4, 8, 9, 12, 13, 15, 18, 20, 25, 28, 33, ✨34✨, 35, 36, 38 (even if you are okay with sharing, i need to know what cats say about us), 39

Quite a lot, isn't it? You may skip numbers you don't feel like elaborating.

One more question from me: what particular question(s) made you reblog this questioner? If I didn't pick it (them) then answer it (them) anyway

What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting? Calibri, size 11 font. Yes I care a lot. I've changed fonts three or four times since I started writing. I used to do Times New Roman, then Arial, then Algeraya, now I'm using Calibri and Arial occasionally.

If you had to give up your keyboard and write your stories exclusively by hand, could you do it? If you already write everything by hand, a) are you a wizard and b) pen or pencil? I went to online high school and every summer you had to give back the laptops they loaned out. I wrote by hand for three months until I bought a laptop when I was 18. I know I could do it because I already have. Colors usually black or pencil.

4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral? Giggled. I hate it with my entire soul. Or yummy. If I could permanently remove words from the English language, it would be these two ^

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go? Already did. Someone fell from their sky to their death. it was a one-shot I wrote five years about for HTTYD.

9. Do you believe in ghosts? This isn’t about writing I just wanna know. Yes but no. I am one of the most skeptical people when it comes to the supernatural. I know you're going "........you're christain." and like yeah. Different than a haunting to me. I think 99% of hauntings are just mold or carbon monoxide poisoning. I would personally have to be possessed by a ghost before I took the story seriously. I am always going to try and find a scientific reason first, if I've crossed out all those, THEN i'm like "Yep. Ghost." I genuinely DO believe people have encountered the afterlife. I feel bad energies in places/rooms, and I've seen some stuff. But I DO NOT believe that every haunting is a haunting. It's ridiculous. Make sure your carbon monoxide detector is up to date.

12. If a genie offered you three writing wishes, what would they be? Btw if you wish for more wishes the genie turns all your current WIPs into Lorem Ipsum, I don’t make the rules. 1 - I get published and get a big fandom, 2 - one of my fanfics gets turned into a movie 3 - ChatGPT becomes illegal and doesn't overtake writing and ruin any potential prospects I have at making writing a career.

13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy? Hard: child death. Easy: child abuse.

15. Do you write in the margins of your books? Dog-ear your pages? Read in the bath? Why or why not? Do you judge people who do these things? Can we still be friends? No I don't. If you damage a book, I feel annoyed. My sister loaned me a book she wrote in the margins of once and yes it was cool to see her thoughts, but she crossed out sentences and wrote it differently and circled unique words and it was really really annoying because it was so distracting. Have never written in a book that wasn't scripture, have no plans to start.

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

"I'm sorry.

He moves down the hall. Tony's enjoying this. Making May uncomfortable. It makes him sick. He wants to scream himself hoarse and demand to know how anyone could ever want that. (She said sorry.) Peter pushes open the door to his room and stares at it.

There's no looming shadowy presence in the corner. Nothing to suggest what's been going on for all this time. (Nothing has been going on.) it looks...painfully ordinary. Normal. Numbingly so. Peter stares at everything with an ache in his chest. Staying with the Starks isn't permanent he reminds himself, just until he can work things out with M&M. Then he'll be back here. He just needs...not everything.

Sorry.

Peter moves into the room, leaving the door open behind him.

I'm sorry.

He shuffles to his closet and digs through the top until he finds a duffle bag and starts to throw things into it. Clothing, his laptop, his phone charger, a blanket, other things he barely processes, and a few books. He doesn't see his phone and realizes that it's probably still in May and Matt's bedroom. Which...great.

Peter moves for his backpack, stuffing anything school related inside. He doesn't know if he'll be back before winter break is over. He doesn't think so.

Sorry.

May said sorry.

Peter's stiff hands move across the desk, fumbling to grab his history book, but it won't stick with his fingers. The backpack falls from his limp hands, landing at his feet with a huff of air.

Sorry.

As if that's supposed to fix it. Take back everything that happened. Half a year of aching. Of hating. Of nothing.

May said sorry.

Matt pushed him down the stairs.

Sorry.

His arm is broken.

May said sorry. And he doesn't want to forgive her."

-> Not one for Chocolate Anymore, I see

This passage is in response to May apologizing to Peter. And Peter just. yeah. This passage went through a lot of revisions that I can remember, Peter fixated on different things. But the sorry was what struck a chord with me.

I was, at the time, struggling with a lot of personal issues with my parents, and had a similar vein of thought to this ^. Sorry doesn't fix it. Sorry doesn't make it better. It's just words. I wanted to showcase that.

People hound victims of abuse for forgiving their abusers, especially if they said sorry. Like it makes it all better. They apologized, didn't they? Yeah. But May neglected Peter for months. He doesn't have to forgive her. This was my response to that. Peter is angry. He's allowed to be angry. Sorry doesn't fix it.

20..If a witch offered you the choice between eternal happiness with your one true love and the ability to finally finish, perfect, and publish your dearest, darlingest, most precious WIP in exactly the way you've always imagined it — which would you choose? You can’t have both sorry, life’s a bitch One true love. perfection doesn't exist and the potion would be useless. Plus I'm lonely and single and very much wish I had a gf.

25. What is a weird, hyper-specific detail you know about one of your characters that is completely irrelevant to the story? I always write Thor as hating poptarts because I like to subvert fandom tropes.

28. Who is the most delightful character you’ve ever written? Why?

Loki. His head is haunted. Hela's a close second though. Her head is very haunted.

33. Do you practice any other art besides writing? Does that art ever tie into your writing, or is it entirely separate? I draw. I play several instruments. I make collages and I build modals sometimes. The art comes into my writing sometimes, but not often.

34. Thoughts on the Oxford comma, Go: It is utterly pointless. Look, there are very few instances that you NEED to have the oxford comma there. When you're listing things, people understand the and. I think that English is desperately trying to stick to outdated rules because they're "right" but the thing is, if you don't adapt with the language the language will die. Let it flow and change. It's normal. It's healthy. That's why English is how it is now.

35. What’s your favorite writing rule to smash into smithereens? No adverbs.

38. What is something about your writing process YOU think is Really Weird? If you are comfortable, please share. If you’re not comfortable, what do you think cats say about us? I write the chapter, let it sit for 3-4 days and then rewrite and edit it. Letting it marinate is just so weird to me.

39. What keeps you writing when you feel like giving up? I like comments. I enjoy putting down stories and sharing them. I like seeing people put the story together in the comments. I like the community.

40. Please share a poem with me, I need it.

Poem I wrote a few years ago (I have pages and pages and pages of poems actually, it was my Thing when I was 13-15).

"Trapped and I can't breathe,

Blind and I can't see,

Alone I cry and grieve,

I'm afraid of me,

from this ask game

#answered #ask game #okay #i feel like i've answered every question and it was only one ask #my writing

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