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rawbins-undertale-blog · 3 years

Note

This is a slight TW question, so feel no obligation to answer:

How would horrortale Sans react to an S/O with an eating disorder?

TW for eating disorder(s) (nearly only ARFID is spoken about, anorexia is mentioned)

If I missed any tags you think I should've included, please tell me.

This may sound a bit strange, but I’ve actually been wanting to write something for this, specifically because I suffer from an eating disorder. I’m not comfortable writing anything with an eating disorder (or any disorder in general) I personally don’t have, mostly because I don’t have the time to give it the proper research it deserves, so I’ll be writing about a lesser known eating disorder, that being ARFID. Let me explain it so people who don’t know what it is will, uh, know what it is lol

ARFID - also commonly called “Selective Eating Disorder” - stands for Avoidant/Restrictive Food Intake Disorder. A lot of people with it are characterised as being “picky eaters”, but it goes to a point where it’s seriously unhealthy and crosses a line that makes it into something more serious. It has to do with sensory processing issues, rather than self-image issues (though self-image issues could also play a part in it I'm pretty sure, but it’s not the main “motivation”). Most people with ARFID actually wish they could go up in weight, but can’t because they can’t make themselves eat. I, for one, desperately wish I could just eat like a normal person, both because it’s very… not convenient to only have around 20 or less meals I can eat (and that list is slimming down as I grow tired of my safe foods*) and also I’m skinny enough to match Papyrus in looks, which isn’t very confidence-inspiring when you’re supposed to be a human and not a sentient magical skeleton, believe it or not. Whereas a person without ARFID could eat most things, including things they don’t really enjoy eating, somebody with ARFID might not be physically able to. For example, I literally throw up food that I don’t like (and I’ve gagged while eating food I do like due to seeing somebody eat something I don’t like and/or just smelling other food nearby). When I'm to try a new food, I have on more than one occasion gotten anxiety attacks. That’s how bad it can be.

*a "safe food" is food you know you can eat without panicking/throwing up/getting triggered in one way or another

I’ll be basing these HCs off of myself, so keep that in mind. You’re free to point out misinformation (and I, in fact, encourage you to point it out if I somehow got something wrong) but I ask that you stay respectful and don’t make fun of this. I doubt it would happen, but this topic means a lot to me and is really serious. So yeah please don’t be rude or invalidate people. Anyways onto the headcanons (which aren’t in the usual format, sorry if that bothers you)

Dusk (HT Sans) wouldn’t really understand. He’s able to eat pretty much anything (not like he had much of a choice for a while) and food is important… But he’ll try to understand. Especially because he can accommodate you. He’ll be fine eating the same meals, however “boring” they are, over and over because like I said: not a picky eater. Any food is good in his book. So long as you’re not restricting him and his food intake and so long as you aren’t dying from starvation and/or malnutrition, you’re free to do whatever.

It does annoy him when you go to social gatherings and you can’t eat the food because it’s not one of your safe foods. He’s not going to let you just starve yourself when there’s perfectly fine food just waiting for you. Not gonna lie, he’s pretty insensitive the first time this happens. Basically, he’ll pull you over when he notices you’re not eating anything and try to convince you to eat. Starts out really gentle and encouraging, but when you don’t budge he becomes increasingly agitated and insistent until he hisses that you’re making a fuss over nothing. Needless to say, you aren’t thrilled and it starts a pretty serious argument that probably ends with you either leaving, starting to cry or blowing up at him. He feels bad when it’s all said and done and apologises, because he realises after some thought that he wasn’t being helpful and he decided to do more research again. Even if he forgot it all like he did the first time he tried researching ARFID, it would have been worth a shot. After that, he’ll instead pack food with him for you whenever you go somewhere. It doesn’t matter if it’s “socially acceptable”, because like I said, you’re not starving if he’s got something to do with it.

He’ll also, after coming around to realise the best he can do to help you isn’t trying to push you out of your comfort zone forcefully, try to make sure there’s always at least one of your safe foods available. Don’t get me wrong though, he’ll still encourage you to expand on your list of safe foods. He’s got memory issues so he sometimes forgets, which he feels really bad about, but he has multiple alarms set to make sure you eat properly for the most part. (He’s got an alarm for nearly every minute of the day and he has his calendar full of things as mundane as “make sure s/o eats” and “do laundry”, by the way.) I have a tendency to skip lunch because I simply don’t like food, but he’d put a stop to that lol

To summarize, the whole thing with you having an ED starts off with the two of you having a rocky start before Dusk comes around to be really good at handling it.

Anyways sorry if you meant an ED like anorexia. I know most people write about things like that, but like I said: I’m not really up for writing things that I have to pour hours of research into to make sure I portray it respectfully and accurately because I don’t have that time or patience. (Or attention span, tbh.) Also, I literally hadn’t heard of ARFID for like… the majority of my life, I’ve only known it’s a “thing” for like. A few months. I really thought I was the only one who was so picky with my food and it made me feel alone and isolated (ESPECIALLY after I went to a "specialist" (not sure if she was actually a specialist anymore because her technique to get me to eat was to give my a small glass that I'd pour sauce into to try it every time it was served which obviously didn't work lmao) to help me when I was like six and she said she’d “never seen somebody this bad” before not giving me a diagnosis (as far as I know)), so if anybody with undiagnosed ARFID is reading this:

you're not alone. I know it’s difficult to deal with this - it can be humiliating and embarrassing and horrible and terrible in so many ways - but you can do it. It’s so hard, so fucking hard to step out of your comfort zone and try to expand on your list of safe foods, but you can do it. I believe in you. You aren’t alone and you can learn to have a healthier diet, please just try. I’ll be honest in that you’re probably never going to completely overcome this, ARFID is something that likely stays with you forever, but you can make it into a smaller problem. You can turn it into something so much smaller and inconsequential that you won't encounter any more embarrassing situations where you can't eat what you're given. To a point where you won't have to use the excuses "I already ate", "I'm not hungry", etc anymore. It’ll take time and patience, but you can do it. Don’t give up, okay? <3

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astro-rain · 3 years

Text

delicate; b. barnes

chapter five - “fight or flight”

delicate masterlist

word count: 1.7k

synopsis: bucky and (Y/N) have their first official therapy session.

pairings: bucky barnes x fem!reader

[A/N]: this story is available my wattpad as an OC @/ typicaldaze :))

She stood in front of her bed, ringing out her hands. Her gaze trailed off to nowhere specific, feet planted firmly on the floor of her room, body rigid and straight. She was nervous. This was no foreign feeling, but unpleasant all the same. Today was the first ever therapy session with Bucky.

She hadn't realized how strange it felt until she really thought about her position here. She never worked as an official therapist. She studied neuroscience and psychology, and the relationship between neurobiology and behavior. Don't get her wrong, she knew psychology, she knew trauma and how it interacted with the brain. In fact, sometimes her knowledge seemed like the only thing she could rely on, a consistent comfort and constant truth to keep her feet on the ground.

She shook the thought with a shake of her head, cracked her knuckles, and went for the door. She would have to get used to the Wakandan royal-guest living quarters. It looked like a five star hotel. No, a six star hotel; there is no such thing as a six star hotel, but Wakanda made it happen. That's what Y/N thought, anyway.

Briefly, she wondered what Bucky thought of it. Was he staying in the same area? He could be across the lake for all she knew. The castle was huge and had extensions everywhere. She wondered if he felt lonely here. She wondered if he felt scared, or relaxed, or if he didn't care at all. She thought this was all a little intimidating. She was wary of getting lost as she followed the directions Shuri gave her yesterday.

Her hands found themselves fidgeting again as she continued walking. Before, she was standing by, assisting Shuri and Bucky when needed. Now, she was going to be sitting in a room alone with Bucky. One on one. This would be more personal. (Y/N) was again intimidated. Not by Bucky, but by the nature of their relationship. She just wanted to do well. She just wanted to do right by him.

Alone in a room, tips of fingers tapped restlessly on the arm of a chair. Simultaneously, while walking down the hall, tips of fingers tapped nervously on the side of a thigh.

(Y/N) stood up as a Wakandan royal-aid escorted Bucky into the room. Immediately, she noticed his eyes scanning over the room, undoubtedly and probably unconsciously surveying for exits, possible threats, etc.

A brain that never rests, she thought.

The two of them thanked the aid and bid him farewell before standing in an awkward silence.

"It's nice to see you again, Bucky. I trust you're doing well," (Y/N) cut the tension.

The eloquent politeness was a weird taste on her tongue. She put up with it.

Bucky offered a smile. "Yes, thank you."

It took her a second to realize they were still both standing.

"Oh! Please sit. We can get started."

There were two couches across from each other. One a deep green, the other a pale blue. They were a nice contrast again the walls, which were clad in beautiful Wakandan designs of various shades of orange, yellow, and red. Except for one. On the far end of the room was a huge glass window, taking up the entire span of the wall. There were two end tables on each couch, and a small desk in the one corner with a warm golden lamp. The room was calm and welcoming.

"So, today isn't gonna be huge," (Y/N) started. "It is our first session, so we'll just talk, ya know, settle in."

Bucky nodded.

"So, how have you been? Adjusting well? Hating it? Absolutely no opinion?"

There was then a slight lightheartedness in her professionalism. It helped to put him at ease.

Bucky looked at his hands. "I'm doing alright. This place still needs a little gettin' used to, but that's expected."

"That's good to hear." She smiled slightly. "Wakanda is... a lot for an outsider. I don't think it matters if you're from another century or not."

Bucky chuckled.

"To be honest, I don't even know what therapy really is. They didn't have much of it in the forties."

"Well, it can be pretty hard sometimes, so here's a fair warning. Especially seeing the stuff you went through, just be prepared for difficulty."

As soon as she mentioned this, his demeanor changed.

"Yeah," he rubbed the back of his neck. "I guess difficulty is to be expected... with me."

That last part was so quiet she almost didn't hear it.

"Hey," (Y/N) said softly, "difficult is fine. It just means a little extra work.

Bucky looked up at her.

His eyes are very blue.

"A little extra work," he repeated, thoughtfully. "I think can do that."

"Do you get escorted everywhere like you did earlier?"

"Pretty much, yeah. Security measure, I guess," Bucky shrugged.

"I can understand that. You don't look scary though."

He then looked very confused.

"Th...thank you?"

"I'm just saying-I feel like it would probably be fine to let you walk here by yourself. It's only a problem when you hear the trigger words, right?"

"I think so, but I can't be sure. Neither can they. It's best to just keep everyone safe."

"Safe from..."

"Me."

"Well, you look perfectly gentle to me. I think it's the Winter Soldier they want to keep at bay."

That threw him for a loop. Gentle. Never in Bucky's life has he been described as gentle. At least... he didn't think so. He wasn't overly trusting of his memory.

"Kinda the same thing, don't ya think?"

"No."

Simple and head first into the point. Bucky once looked confused at her sureness.

"No?"

"No. You and the Winter Soldier are separate. It's not like you decided to go down that road. You weren't given a choice."

"Yeah, I guess."

She didn't seem the least bit convinced of his answer, but she decided to leave it alone.

(Y/N) uncrossed and re-crossed her legs, changing the subject and the mood.

"So, tell me about Steve!"

"Steve?"

"Yeah, I mean he rebelled against like a hundred countries to help you. I assumed you guys were close."

"Well," he started, leaning back in his seat, "he's my oldest friend, and my only friend now, I suppose. Stubborn ass, isn't he?"

"Maybe," (Y/N) smiled. "Sometimes stubborn is good, though. I can admire that. He isn't easily pushed around, that I can tell."

Bucky nearly snorted. "You should've seen him back when we were kids. Pushed around was part of his daily routine."

She almost giggled. "Oh, man. Poor Steve. He was lucky to have you, I take it?"

"We were lucky to have each other. But an argument can be made in Steve's favor 'cause he always made me look good. Not even because he was small or whatever, but because he was always puttin' me in situations where I'd act like a hero. Ya know, savin' his ass in the back of an alley or somethin'."

He seemed to get more comfortable as he talked about things that made him happy. Familiarity and goodness opened him up like a blooming flower. (Y/N) wasn't sure how to describe the sight, but the word that came to mind was golden.

"Sounds like you guys had a lot of fun."

"Yeah..." Bucky trailed off with a smile, thoughts tinted by memories of the past. Memories of an easier time.

"Oh, I've been meaning to ask. What did you think of all the exams we did with Shuri? How was it for you?"

"There's so much... stuff, and I have no idea what any of it is or does. I mean, it's been fine so far, but I can't help feeling constantly... confused. And unaware."

"Is that uncomfortable? Being unaware?"

"Well it's not a pleasure, that's for sure," Bucky said with a slight chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck.

He seemed nervous.

"Does this place make you nervous, Bucky?"

"Nervous? I don't know if I'd say nervous, but it is a lot to take in."

"That is true. Is that why you looked around the room for exits when you first came in? And why you're sitting facing the door instead of having your back to it?"

Bucky straightened his back.

"Didn't realize you caught that," he shrugged. "Just a habit."

And the flower began to wilt.

"Do you do that in rooms that you feel comfortable in?"

"I-uh... I'm not sure."

"That's alright. It's called hyper-vigilance. You're on high alert at all times. It's a common symptom in PTSD."

"In what?"

Bucky began to wipe his hands on his knees.

"PTSD stands for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, but we can get into all that in a later session."

"Do I... do I have that?"

"I think so," she answered calmly and surely, "but I'd wait 'til I got to know you before I formally made that diagnosis."

He glanced at the clock. A few dense moments of silence pass.

"Bucky?"

He cleared his throat. "Yeah?"

"Are you okay?"

The blue in his eyes looked like ice. They were frozen. Most people think that in stressful situations the body activates the fight or flight response, but there aren't only two options. There's fight, flight, and there's freeze. Bucky was freezing.

The irony, (Y/N) thought.

He snapped out of whatever trance he was in and stood up abruptly. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just-"

His head shot to the door and he wrung out his hands as his feet shifted in place. Mind undoubtedly going haywire trying to decide what to do.

"I think I need to go," Bucky said so fast he didn't realize he even said it.

He made a beeline for the door, restlessness all but pouring out of him.

"Buck-"

She couldn't get through the rest of his name before the door had open and shut, leaving her sitting alone on the couch.

Now she could check off freeze and flight...

PLS feel free to leave some feedback/constructive criticism, i’d really like to know what i can do to make this story better!

#bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky headcanon #marvel #steve rogers #bucky reader insert #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #marvel fanfiction

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outer-bnks · 3 years

Text

Two Burning Hearts Are Dared to Break (JJ X OC) Ch. 11

The Pogues get a surprise visit from Agent Bratcher, causing tensions to rise in the group. JJ exposing Elle and Topper’s budding romance doesn’t help either.

Warning: swearing, brief mention of death

Word count: 1.5k

“This is so messed up”, JJ sighed, keeping his eyes down to the ground, shaking it in disbelief.

The Pogues silence that followed allowed them to mull over the possibilities of what could happen with their ongoing police investigation, before it was broken by knocking, Elle removing herself from the living room to answer it.

Opening the door she froze, coming face to face with Agent Bratcher. He took in her reaction, looking over her shoulder, “Hi, I’m Agent Bratcher of the SBI. I’m investigating the disappearance of John Booker Routledge and Sarah Cameron. I believe you and your friends may have some information that could help me.”

He definitely had come to the right place. Crossing her arms over her chest, she felt her heartbeat begin to quicken as a wave of anxiety washed over her. They had already given their statements to Deputy Shoupe, did they really have to recount the occurrences of this Summer again. “We can’t speak to you without a lawyer present sir, sorry to disappoint”, she spoke with confidence, hoping that it was enough to create a facade that he wouldn’t be able to see through.

Hearing footsteps approach her from behind she was soon joined by the others, relieved that she had some backup. “All due respect Agent, but it’s best if you leave”, JJ spoke, stepping in front of Elle and sizing up Agent Bratcher.

“I know you kids are going through a lot right now and the last thing you want to do is answer more questions regarding what’s happened,”,a look of genuine sympathy was displayed before it was replaced by seriousness, “but I think there’s more to the story than anyone is letting on”.

“We’ve already given our statements to Shoupe, there’s nothing more to say”.

“Look, between us, I think Shoupe is… overlooking some aspects that I would like to dive deeper into”, JJ turned to the others standing behind him, biting his lip whilst silently asking him with his eyes what Bratcher was talking about.

Bratcher took their curious faces as his signal to carry on. “The day of the storm, Sarah came to the SBI tents very aggravated… hysterical almost. It looked like she had been crying, she had a very anxious energy to her. But her father brushed it off as her recent diagnosis,”, he flipped through his pocket sized notebook searching before reading off, “Bipolar Disorder”.

Kie’s head flicked up from the ground that she had previously been staring at, confusion and surprise making her head fill with questions. Stepping forward between JJ and Elle she made sure she had Bratcher’s attention before speaking. “Sorry what? Bipolar Disorder?”, she turned her head to look at the others to confirm her own thoughts, “Sarah...wasn’t Bipolar.”

Bratcher shuffled on his feet, bringing his notebook down in front of his body before it was joined by his other hand, his eyebrows lifted at the news, eyes flitting from one Pogue to the other to check that they all thought the same.

“I’m sorry, I’m confused. Her Dad said that she had been recently diagnosed”.

“You really believe a thing Ward Cameron says? Come on man, you don’t need to be a detective to tell that he’s full of shit”, JJ expressed. Pope following that up with, “Wouldn’t that information be on her medical records sir?”.

Bratcher nodded, his eyes holding a pleading look as he skimmed over the Pogues once more. “Do you guys see why I need your help in this investigation now?”

Based on the silence that followed his question, he realised that the group may need some more convincing. “Listen, you all knew these two probably better than anyone else on this planet, let alone this island. Every little insignificant piece of information you have about them could lead us to either finding them, solving the case, or both. I need you to do this, not for me, but for them. They would’ve done the same for you right?”

His emotional tactic seemed to work, the Pogues glancing at each other before once again silently reaching an agreement. JJ stepped to the side, his arm outstretched to welcome the man into Elle’s house, “Come on in sir”.

---

“And then they were chased into that raging storm”, Pope finished. They had spent the past 2 hours in Elle’s living room describing the gold game and everything that occurred during their Summer, Agent Bratcher sipping on the tea Elle had prepared for him, in between jotting down notes on his pad. There were multiple instances where everyone had to hold back tears, when the memories of John B and Sarah became too painful.

“So that’s where the story ends?”, Bratcher enquired.

“Yep, forced into the storm by your men after being falsely accused of murdering Sheriff Peterkin”, JJ snapped sarcastically.

“So why didn’t anyone tell the police, try and clear John B’s name?”.

“Were you not fucking listening? We tried, and no one believed us. No one will ever believe us because we’re scum from the poor side of the Island”.

Bratcher maintained his gaze on a disgruntled JJ, before turning to others. “Look guys, I know the tension is high right now and you’re all grieving. But I’m not the bad guy here. I just want to solve this case. I want to find out what really happened to Big John, Scooter Grubbs, the Sheriff and your friends. And it seems like you have the answers. If you can all trust me, I can get the justice you all deserve. That your friends deserve,” he paused, “aren’t you guys tired of fighting this on your own?”.

The group pondered on his words. They were. They were all so tired.

Nodding his head, Pope spoke, “Yes, Agent Bratcher, we want justice, and we’re willing to do anything to get it”.

----

After another half hour of deconstructing the recent events, Bratcher decided it was time to leave. The Pogues all meeting in Elle’s living room, with solemn expressions, the exhaustion of the day catching up to them.

Letting out a sarcastic chuckle, JJ was the first to interrupt their thoughts, “Well that went well”.

Elle shook her head, fed up with his attitude, “JJ you didn't need to be so rude, he’s trying to help”.

Rising from his seated position on her couch, his tone became even more sarcastic, using his hands to exaggerate his point, “Oh yeah really Elle? Why should we trust anyone!”.

“Because we don't have much of a choice anymore!” Elle exclaimed, “Sarah and John B are gone, and now we’re being held responsible for this shit show! You really think they would’ve let us take the fall if they were still here?”.

JJ and Elle were face to face now. “Don’t try to play the emotion card with me! You might be naive enough to spill our secrets to Kooks in hopes for some sympathy and attention but I’m not. The more we tell them, the more they have to pin on us!”.

Kie and Pope snapped their heads to Elle, JJ’s revelation clearly surprising them.

“Wait wait, hold on,” Pope stepped forward between the two, turning to Elle, “Who have you been talking to?”.

Frustrated, she ignored Pope’s question, “God JJ you’re blowing it out of proportion!”.

“You’re falling in love with a Kook but I’m blowing it out of proportion, yeah right”, JJ replied, running his hand through his hair and walking away from the argument to the other side of the room. If Elle was paying attention to the blonde boy she would realise that his reaction wasn’t truly one of anger, but rather hurt.

Kie stepped forward, taking JJ’s place, “I’m sorry, you’re what now?”, she spoke bewildered by the accusation.

Continuing to ignore the other two, Elle’s attention remained focused on the boy who had his back to her, staring out the ceiling to floor windows at the sun setting below the horizon. She walked closer to him, hoping to regain his attention. “Jesus JJ, I get asked on one date and all of a sudden I’m the enemy”.

Taking his cap off his head, he ran a hand through his hair, before taking a breath. Turning his head to the side to face Elle, he held her eye contact. She couldn’t decipher the look in his eyes. She’d seen him angry and upset before, but this was different. She had seen this emotion only a few times, trying to place a finger on what it usually meant. Suddenly, the emotion had disappeared, replaced with one of betrayal, “when that date is Topper Thornton then yes Elle, you are the enemy”.

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aayilahkaylee · 3 years

Text

Carbon as a major factor in the origin of life and carbonated water.

Summary: They both think too much and are highly interpretive of their surroundings - objectively, of course. So it is inevitable that they will do the same with their soul mate brands, but things will look really simple on a trip to the zoo, where many carbon-based life forms are gathered, an element that is also part of their trademark formula.

Notes: This is part of the first challenge done on Twitter by @DcstChallenges, with the theme of soulmates. Don't hesitate to join on twitter and participate or support future challenges.

The system of soulmate identification was nothing more than an inefficient diversity of methods with a huge margin of error or at least ambiguity.

Statistics and probability confirmed this, Senku made use of these calculations in trying to understand this phenomenon, ruling out unprovable facts such as the resonance of dreams or thoughts, or slightly questionable ones such as writing on one's own skin and this also appearing on the other person's (how many could be writing on their own skin and inventing that it was their soulmate who had written to them?). Also the countdowns to over a thousand years were also proof of the untruthfulness that came with it.

Rooted to the facts, the mark on Ishigami Senku's right forearm was supposed to be the mark of his soul mate, but to him it was nothing more than the affirmation that he loved science.

At a certain point, he came to think that simply marks like his did not mean that someone was his soulmate, but that they simply had similar enough tastes or interests that they could hit it off. Which would explain why most people who found his markings ended up being a couple.

On his arm was tattooed the formula NaHCO₃, one of the most important compounds in history, to which he gave the meaning of being what proved that his destiny was science.

On the contrary, Asagiri Gen wondered if among his peers there would be someone whose first word they would cross with him would be that compound; would they pronounce it as the formula read, or would they simply say 'sodium bicarbonate'?

Eventually, his peculiar mark of soul mate became just another joke in his extensive repertoire, with the formula actually demonstrating his deep love of soda, with every bottle of cola that fell into his hands being his destiny.

They didn't think about it often, in fact they even forgot they had such a mark as they were so focused on their respective scientific and psychological/magical matters. So that Saturday, the marks on their arms were not foremost in their brains, instead they found themselves early in the morning preparing to leave for the zoo.

Byakuya found it opportune to distract his busy eleven year old son from incessant curiosity from time to time, offering visits that were stimulating and fun enough that Senku couldn't refuse, though there was no way he would have declined because he appreciated the old man's affectionate intentions... sometimes, when he didn't force him to wear a cap because of the sun.

At the same time, with the pressure of socialisation and the opportunity to experiment with his own charisma, Gen spouted witty remarks and questions to uncover those classmates who invited him on this outing. Exploiting his charisma and his wit to make their company more pleasant, until he was able to get a break after the lion section, offering his companions to set aside a table until they returned with snacks.

Had Senku perhaps taken two seconds longer to heed his periphery, he would have continued the tour with his father to leave and subsequently go for a bite to eat together, but inevitably he noticed the wrist of a young man of about fourteen or fifteen.

NaHCO₃

And he immediately asked Byakuya to pause, sending him to sit down to wait, which the elder somehow interpreted as a coy statement that Senku was hungry, so like a good tutor he retreated to get food.

Senku adjusted the straps of his backpack and positioned himself in front of the jet-haired boy, who was arranging a pair of pretentious sunglasses. He thought of a few probing questions, certain that the young man in front of him was also a science buff (What else could that mark mean?).

But Gen won the speak, slightly taken aback. "Are you lost?" he asked at the boy's sudden appearance.

So Senku dismissed all the questions he had thought of, remembering where they were and convinced that Gen was there for academic reasons.

"Elephant gestation lasts about twenty-two months and during elephant pregnancy the calf grows to a hundred or a hundred and fifty kilograms." he said.

‘Huh?!’

Senku counted thirty seconds, in which his determination showed in the way his brow tightened with each passing second. Gen remained expressionless despite the discomfort, inwardly contorting his face in stupefaction ‘What the hell is this...?!’

"Hah~," he regained his composure immediately and smiled. "as interesting as elephants being afraid of bees." replied, assuming this was one of those kids who liked fun facts... until realised he was looking for something more technical. "It's because bees can get into the mucous membranes and delicate parts of the elephant like the trunk, mouth or eyes and sting them. Of course, they can't pierce their skin, but you should know that.

This time it took ten seconds, which made the major sweat, until Senku smiled slyly.

"Not bad." the younger acknowledged.

Immediately, feeling a great deal of encouragement to exchange his extensive knowledge with Gen, he surmised that perhaps such chemical reactions, like the one he was feeling, were the explanation for why people who could not see colours got it when they met the person they matched with. Or how eye colour could change when they met, nothing more than physiological reactions related to hormones and perhaps genetic compatibility.

Interest was also piqued in Gen, who was trying to explain why Senku had taken the seat next to him so deliberately. When would he get the chance to meet someone so slightly peculiar again? The intrigue to know how effective his skill would be with this boy was agitating.

"Are you sure you're not lost." Gen echoed, holding his hands out to his sides in an effort to appear receptive. Senku's body language indicated he was being cautious. "Your parents won't be angry that you got separated from them, animals and information plates are so entertaining that they do this all the time."

Senku denied, lifting his face from the horizon to Gen. "You assume I'm coming with my family when the likelihood of me coming for a school trip is seventy-five percent, considering the offer they have for students on weekends." replied quizzically at that miscalculation.

If this kid had information about the elephants' pregnancy, why was Gen surprised that he also knew that accurate figure?

"You're right from a monetary and practical perspective," Gen said, not doubting that Senku was correct. "but, statistically, weekends are used for family and friends." the boy seemed unhappy that Gen didn't give an accurate figure "I think if you came with friends, you would have been lost together, and you don't look angry enough to explain away an argument."

Because of his sullen nature, Senku looked at him incredulously, slightly annoyed by the blatantly accurate analysis. He attributed his discomfort to the lack of numerical data that could have helped him compare and assimilate the diagnosis.

"Go on." Senku demanded.

Gen's hands continued the expressive mimicry, unconsciously showing his mar. "If it was a school trip, your teacher would have already reported you missing, the same applies if you were accompanied by the parents or relatives of your friends; the responsibility for a child who doesn't belong to them would have already mobilised them. I see you're learning a lot, but the absence of an alarmed teacher" Gen glanced around before continuing. "-means that a school trip is not the case."

"Efficient, a ten billion percent efficient." Senku credited.

All it took was a push. "Or could this be a distress call?" Gen moved slightly closer to add privacy. "Are you running away from someone?" he added in a sympathetic, empathetic tone.

Senku closed his eyes, weary of the other's deductions. "Fine, my father couldn't wait for us to go out to get something to eat, I know exactly where he is."

Gen smirked, proud that he had so neatly broken down the boy's suspicious barriers "So you came to me to entertain yourself in the meantime?" he remarked, considering he was apparently the only one who was also alone in waiting and thus became Senku's target. "You don't seem like the kindly type who would come up with an interesting fact just to entertain others without getting something in return." he mentioned intentionally.

If it was not help the younger man required, was looking for something more, an his restless gaze confirmed it.

The small, calloused hand pointed to Gen's forearm. "Your mark, it means sodium bicarbonate." said.

Among the things Gen expected to hear next was not his mark of a soul mate "I'm aware of that." replied. He wasn't aware of was that wearing a short-sleeved shirt in the heat would attract the attention of a stranger that day.

Senku smiled. The older might be different from what expected in terms of methodology and analysis, but that he knew the significance of his tattoo evidently earned him a ten billion points.

Gen for his part recalled the Monster Hunter player who explained the original use of NaHCO₃ for soda, which was the origin of the joke that, looking the boy straight in the eye, he backed away from wanting to change to an allusion to cheating on chemistry exams.

"Do you know what it means?" Senku asked with abrupt energy. Revolutionary inventions and the many uses of NaHCO₃ flashed through his head.

Unexpectedly, that excitement rubbed off on Gen and he replied. "I know what it means. "

Byakuya didn't wonder at first why Senku had decided to leave his arm exposed for the rest of the tour. The heat was reason enough... until he noticed that his son kept staring at the mark when he always downplayed it.

"In the rest area there was a boy who had the same mark as me." Senku revealed, making his father's jaw drop to the floor.

Sure, it had to be something like that, but Byakuya could never have guessed it was that encounter. And it wasn't his fault either, the last time Senku had been dismayed by his mark, it was when he explained to a stranger in Monster Hunter the uses of NaHCO₃, pleading for the component's inclusion in more video games.

As a result, Byakuya dragged Senku back to the zoo in search of his soulmate, admonishing him for being so insensitive and for letting the encounter go unnoticed without remorse. Disgruntled, Senku reaffirmed that all this talk of love and romance was as tedious as it was counterproductive.

Gen was satisfied on the way to the train station, the talk he had with the boy stretching into a mutually stimulating mix of technical commentary on carbon and life on earth, and a smattering of curiosities and humorous observations that he knew would please the youngster. He had been put to a demanding test, in a way that none of his companions could ever have done.

Which was perhaps why he ignored them until one mentioned:

"Asagiri, that boy you were talking to when we arrived, I saw him before we left and on his forearm he had a mark similar to yours." he alluded hesitantly.

The pieces fell into place... and Gen lost his senses once again.

It certainly wasn't the first and wouldn't be the last time sodium bicarbonate would bring them together under a new manifestation.

#sengen #senku #gen #dr stone #I'M SO BAD WITH ENGLISH #SORRY IF I WROTE SOMETHING WRONG #soulmates #byakuya

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heraldofzaun · 3 years

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what are your thoughts on viktor and being neurodivergent? though like, obligatory disclaimer that if riot ever did come out and say that "hey! viktor is canonically [something]" that would be catastrophic but i think it is a little bit of fun for consideration

Oh! Well I like to think he's autistic, which is partially because I am too. (Of course in canon it would be catastrophic because haha, oh man, look at how they've treated Blitzcrank's biographies ever since they gave him an updated one. There's some coding in there, alright, and I am... not a fan...)

I’ve posted a lot of long posts recently (this is no exception) and this is also on a kind of tricky subject, so I’m readmore’ing it.

So anyways, while I have to admit that some of the reason why (my) Viktor is autistic is because I am - I think that you can make a general semi-convincing argument. Or I'm so wrapped up in my own interpretations that I can, at the least. Anyways, from here on out when I say Viktor I mean my personal take. Your mileage may vary on applying this to other interpretations.

(Also, thoughts on new lore Jayce's being kind of coded to be like, a stereotypical autistic dude? (If you have any I mean.) I don't like that Riot is doing it, of course, but I've seen a few good rehabilitative takes on it in fandom. @hamartio's Jayce springs to mind, because their Jayce has been developed over the years and also written by someone who like. Cares. Anyways, I have my own personal Jayce ideas that rely on his old lore so he's not really an asshole there, at least in those regards, so I don't really have many thoughts on new Jayce. I think new Viktor is... pretty coded as well, but it’s also insanely stereotypical. The whole “always working, always wants certainty, gets into automation not because he (primarily) wants to help those injured by catastrophes in Zaun but because the catastrophes interrupt his work” thing makes me uncomfortable. Maybe I’ll write sometime on why the rewrite of his lore fails, in my opinion, to hit upon the same themes of his first - would that be of interest to folks? Anyways, this parenthetical is too long.)

I think that autistic Viktor is cool and makes sense, somewhat because of the fact that the ways he goes about solving his problems are, er, unorthodox. (Of course I am not saying that the GE is because he’s autistic, because that’s stupid. This is why I’m kind of squirrely about talking so openly about what I think Viktor’s got going on, and why I don’t really trust if a non-autistic person headcanons him as autistic. There’s a lot of room for that headcanon to just reinforce the “autistic people are supergeniuses with no emotions that work based off of Facts and Logic” trope, and I hate that.) Since a lot of autism is about feeling adrift from/at odds with neurotypical society, I think that Viktor’s general solutions and also his idealistic leanings in the face of everything Zaun is tracks for that. Roboticization makes sense as a way to stop suffering and death, because it’s more achievable than individual feats of immortality through magic or whatever. Viktor doesn’t really get why people would be so opposed to it - he’s made it clear that while he dislikes his own emotions and wants them gone, he doesn’t expect others to cast off theirs. (Maybe he expected that when he was in the thick of his emotional pain, mostly because he couldn’t imagine others choosing differently than he at the time, but not in the current day.)

Of course, externally, when the scary cyborg man who admits to cutting off his own limbs says “no, being a robot is cool, you can keep your emotions even”, any Zaunite (or any person) is going to interpret that as “he is definitely lying”. Viktor doesn’t quite make that leap. (I have thoughts on the whole Theory of Mind concept and I don’t mean to say that Viktor can’t empathize - he does, and does too much - with others, but I think that in this instance he just can’t quite understand sometimes why people don’t believe him.) He also doesn’t quite get why people would be so attached to the bodies that they’re currently in, especially if he can make a mechanical replica. Or why people might want to die and pass into non-existence after a life well lived. (To him, personally, there’s always more to do. Also he’s terrified of death but that’s another topic.)

I also think that Viktor’s empathy is of the hyper- rather than hypo- kind, partially because I feel like outside of self-advocacy groups the mere concept of autistic hyperempathy is seen as like... impossible? It’s also because he generally seems to be kind of an emotional guy in canon before Stanwick, what with the lore saying that “almost no trace of the original man remained” in reference to Viktor reemerging as someone without emotions. That, combined with the fact that he was described as having a “hope to better society” before everything went down, kind of makes me believe that he was a naive idealist type. (Again, not that autism makes you naive, but...) But yes, hyperempathy. Hence "no pain, no wars, no suffering, no death” being part of his ideology for the Glorious Evolution. He gets pretty ripped up about people being hurt, and it’s really only gotten worse over the years as he’s grasped the full scope of pain in the world.

Personally, I write pre-Stanwick-incident Viktor as someone who is still somewhat awkward with expressing emotion, but it’s not due to him not having them. It’s due to the fact that the ways in which he naturally expressed them and in which he interacted with the world were just... seen as odd/different/etc. (I don’t think Runeterra has an autism diagnosis or particularly excellent psychology, even in Piltover and Zaun, so he just gets the “you’re a weird dude” treatment for his entire life.) Stimming or smiling a certain way or talking a lot about his interests or, you know, the general autistic existence is weird to most people around him, as it unfortunately is in real life. So he’s more reserved until you actually know him, because he’s just masking all the time. (Fun fact about my Viktor: he’s pretty expressive under that actual mask of his. It helps to not have to micromanage expressions all the time when he isn’t experiencing a bout of flat affect due to [gestures vaguely at everything else going on with his mental state], although he sometimes feels poorly about not being able to manage himself. But that’s his issues, and I think it’s good for him to show emotion.)

Side note - Stanwick was able to do such a number on Viktor due to: a) Stanwick being very charismatic and manipulative, on top of being an actually smart man and scientist - he’s really a great example of a “good Zaunite”, in the sense of being good at being what the culture rewards, b) Viktor actively dealing with the death of his parents and Stanwick being an older adult who’d treated him kindly and had never seemed put-off by Viktor’s oddities, and c) Viktor not realizing that he’d get backstabbed, because yes he knows that that happens in academia but Stanwick’s nice. Whether or not the outcomes would have been the same if Viktor were more competent at being “a good Zaunite”... well, probably not. Viktor ended up where he did because of who he is.

(Secondary side note: Viktor has a very strong and very black-and-white sense of what’s right and wrong, as well as general black-and-white thinking. You can see how that would have... not helped in the situations he was put through.)

This is getting kind of rambling, but I guess the point of this is that Viktor’s wanting to remove his emotions may be cloaked in the language of them being “inefficient” or “unhelpful”, which would feed into autistic stereotypes, but it’s really more of a matter of them being too painful and raw for him to process. He feels too much and hurts too much, and no amount of positive emotions in the world will (in his mind) make up for the pain he’s felt and will feel. So it’s better to not feel anything at all, isn’t it? At least then you aren’t overwhelmed by it all.

Viktor just hasn’t fit in with Zaun for all his life, really. Not as an odd child who can tell you all about science-fiction and techmaturgy, not as an odd and reserved teenager/young adult, not as a bright young doctoral student still dealing with grief but trying to make the best of it, and... not as the Machine Herald. But now he’s given up on trying to fit in, for better or for worse.

(Other miscellaneous and less serious autistic thoughts on him: generally a pretty fixed diet, partially due to being autistic but also due to what’s easily available in Zaun + what agrees with his stomach. A fan of weight and pressure - I like to think that the reason his outfit is like that is that he finds it comforting, and also that he has a weighted blanket or two around. Special interests of general techmaturgy, robotics, and science-fiction. He can talk for hours about any of those, and has. Both his parents were mildly spectrum-y, his mother a little bit moreso, so they just kinda assumed that him being him was out-of-the-ordinary and a bit strange but not something “horribly wrong”. Oh! And his third arm, which is under a little less conscious control than the rest of him, still stims sometimes when he’s working or otherwise not paying attention to it.)

This was very long and jumped around a lot, because I find it hard to give a convincing paragraph-by-paragraph argument about exactly why I think that Viktor is autistic, or rather why I headcanon him as such. But hopefully it was interesting! I just have a lot of thoughts on him, as well as the general state of autistic-coded or perceived-as-autistic-by-individuals (both allistic and autistic) characters in media and so it’s very hard to do anything concise without branching out into discussing other topics.

#anonymous #headcanons | beneath the mask #//preemptive remark that these are my own thoughts on autism which are filtered through the lens of my life experiences #//as well as that of some aspects (emphasis on some) of academic research. baron-cohen can choke with his theories #//also i did not explain some terms here under the assumption that those reading would probably already know them. feel free to ask if not!

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macronalds · 4 years

Text

For Reasons, I recently found myself rewatching “The Gang Chokes” in order to examine Mac’s behavior and reasoning therein. I ended up writing a stupidly long, probably stupidly stupid, essay about it, and had a lot of fun in the process, so I wanted to post it here for posterity. Below the cut, please find in adapted form my argument for Why You Can’t Call A Plan Desperate If It’s Working.

ETA: The Reasons were helping the amazing @weareintheblankbit with the fic Add It Up. Even if you make the right choice and skip this monstrosity of a post, don’t miss her excellent story.

——

To me, Mac doesn't seem predominantly panicky or fearful in this episode.

His actions overall, here and in the later “The Gang Texts,” look like a purposeful abandonment of ego in contrast to similarly obsequious but more objectively pathetic behavior in “The Gang Escapes” (I have feelings about the sadness of season 13 and the dividing line of Mac Finding His Pride between then and the next year, but I can't work out how to figure those ideas in and keep this even close to a cogent essay). Here, as in the opening “The Gang Gets Romantic,” Mac has a plan that he's constructed and is following - and while he does sometimes get stuck in the execution of it, on the whole he's successfully sticking to a throughline. For instance, when Dennis rebuffs his query at the start about what he will be eating, he doesn't get flustered about it, he just keeps on doing what he's decided is the thing to do. "Again, Dennis, what am I to be having?" And like, that's not really floundering. It was obviously Dennis's idea back in the day to order everyone's meals for them (”The Gang Gets a New Member”); Mac's just trying to harken back to it.

(Talking about back in the day, I have a whole thing about how the central "problem" over the course of their friendship, through like season 11, was that they pretty much were in a nascent "gay relationship.” As long as they didn’t call it that, it worked for them. The snag: Mac was afraid of being Gay, and Dennis was afraid of committing to being in a Relationship. Mac, now, has finally become comfortable with himself - Dennis isn't there yet. The story of season 14 for me is that Mac wants to return to the unnamed state of absurd closeness they had back then, but is trying to take the lead from Dennis in making it happen.)

The thing is, I think this plan (to make Dennis happy in their relationship again) is mostly beginning to work here. He really seems to have hit on something close to what Dennis wants: to be taken care of. Dennis approves of many of Mac's actions in this episode. For instance, Dennis is IMPRESSED that Mac remembers his dairy "allergy." He's EXCITED for Mac to be his food gatekeeper, and waits expectantly for him to continue rejecting the rest of that pizza. Mac has correctly identified a role that Dennis wants him to take on; it's just that he's bad at it, and that (the not remembering Dennis's problems with the other ingredients) is what gets Dennis's goat. You see, although Mac is deeply caring, I think you can make a factual statement that his ADHD qualities* make him a bad schemer, and yeah, he is also fundamentally needy, and checks in for guidance too often for Dennis's comfort. The points at which Dennis gets frustrated in Chokes are when Mac's ability to contribute what he wants from him in the relationship is compromised by his incompetence, leading to Dennis fearing that he can't really rely on him (and therefore anyone, because he doesn't come close to trusting literally anyone else).

*I refer to this sincerely, not in a glib way; please note however that I am not a mental health professional. I just want to refer to the traits he has that are associated with this diagnosis without proclaiming that I know he has it for sure.

And that brings me to the question of: does a plan count as desperate if it's working? It looked to me like Dennis wanted Mac to massage his muscles and tape his ankles, wanted Mac to warn him about pollen and carry him home like a princess. He got back in Mac's arms twice after being dropped, for god's sake. I don't think he's merely succumbing to Mac's fussiness for Mac's benefit, although Dennis may not want to admit that to himself. Dennis always wants to feel like he's in control. Micromanaging all of his friends helps keep him from spiraling out. HOWEVER: quote: "With real power comes real responsibility, and I don't want any of that shit. I just want the money and the illusion of power" (”Sweet Dee Gets Audited”). I see a lot of utter exhaustion from Dennis in season 14, and I think stems of it lie in accidentally having convinced [Mac, himself, IDK] that his power and therefore his responsibility are real, and in feeling like he's alone in controlling his struggle of a life.

So he falters in playing along with the intricate rituals. He's afraid it's the wrong choice. Mac's solution to this: aight, guess I'ma have to poison him and make it not a choice! Mac states his opinion at the end of the episode that Dennis will inevitably see through all ruses, and potentially be impressed by Mac's devotion nonetheless, and I think that assessment includes the pizza shakes. What's more, I think he's right. We see Dennis looking curiously at the tumbler of protein drink on the basketball court, smacking his lips and turning it side to side. I think it's obvious that he can tell straight away that it's made of pizza, which he has just reminded Mac that he's intolerant of, yet he drinks it anyway and shortly goes all faint. When they get to the final restaurant trip, Dennis tells Mac he's feeling better, no thanks to his efforts. Then, when a shake appears, he immediately decides he needs it anyway. Again, there is no way he doesn't know Mac's making them out of pizza. He's just so excited to play this damn game! Dennis wants to depend on Mac, he likes being taken care of, and if he's been "poisoned," no one can fault him for not staying in control like he purports to want. He just needs to be carried home again, goddammit.

For me this episode is Mac is trying to take his cues from Dennis, to read the signs from him on what Mac should be doing as a good friend to him. He's just not great at it. Dennis is a complicated man, but also, Mac has never done subtlety well. He needs to refine his approach, and in taking responsibility for his actions, including the ~fussing~, back off Dennis's shoulders, I think he succeeds. Look at Dennis's face at the end of the episode: game, recognize game.

In conclusion, this is why I don’t think "fear and anxiety" ring true as a read for Mac’s motivations in Chokes. Nerves definitely happen when he finds himself incurring Dennis’s ire in the course of his plan - a strong need for approval has been seared into the bones of this man - but the gestures of care and affection themselves aren’t born of desperation. He knows what Dennis wants. If he can get Dennis to let himself have it, he knows they can both be happy. His plan is born of hope, and I think that noun just hits different.

the end :)

#jesus this got long #I have Big Feelings!#if you hate it please don't tell me thank you #iasip #the gang chokes #always sunny #macdennis #mac mcdonald #dennis reynolds #meta #6.08 gets a new member #7.04 sweet dee gets audited #it’s always sunny in philadelphia #14.01 romantic #14.04 chokes #14.05 texts #13.02 escapes

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twomoonstwosuns · 4 years

Text

scared.

back to you [series masterlist]

previous part · next part

pairing: professor!poe dameron x reader

warnings: mentions/details of injuries/blood, age gap (reader over 18), light angst

word count: 3.4k

a/n: sorry for the wait for this chapter, i hope this is worth it! feedback greatly appreciated!

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Jessika never thought she’d get that phone call.

She didn’t know what to expect when she practically raced to the hospital, sliding all over the icy roads as she tried to get there in one piece. Luckily, she got there safely and was able to walk into the emergency room to see that her friend wasn’t anywhere near death. You were sitting on a bed getting looked at; they weren’t even going to need to admit you.

As you were getting looked at, Jessika went to collect your purse that luckily didn’t have anything missing. Even the cookies you put in to bring to Poe were only a little squished. Before heading back to you, she entered the passcode into your phone and called Poe. She knew you wouldn’t call him, most likely thinking he’d probably ignore your call anyway given your fight.

His voice was just as scared as hers had been. Jessika waited anxiously for him just outside the emergency room, in the waiting area where the people who brought their loved ones in waited to see if they were too late or not. She was so grateful she wouldn’t have to call anyone with bad news.

“Y/N L/N?”

The voice saying her best friend’s name snapped Jessika out of her morbid thinking. She stood, the movement grabbing Poe’s attention out of the corner of his eye where he stood at the check-in desk. He rushed over to her, his heart beating rapidly with each step.

“She’s fine,” Jessika said immediately. “She’s got a minor concussion, some cuts and bruises, and one cut on her forehead that was deep. She’s getting stitched up now.”

Poe visibly relaxed, his shoulders dropping in complete relief as he let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Jessika sunk down into a chair, running a hand through her hair as she let out a dry laugh.

“You know, I can binge the hell out of medical dramas but I can’t watch them stitch her up.”

Poe sat down next to her. “What happened?”

“A deer jumped in front of her car. She hit her brakes and hit a patch of ice, which made her spin out, fly off the road, and hit a tree. I guess the front of her car is completely totaled.”

Poe let out a sigh of relief. It could’ve been worse. It could’ve been so much worse. Jessika squeezed her eyes shut, a quiet and pained groan coming from her.

“Are you okay?” Poe looked over at her, genuine concern crossing his face. Jessika nodded slowly.

“I’ve had a migraine all day. It’s better than it was earlier, I’m just waiting for the pain meds to kick in.” She massaged her temples, looking for some kind of relief. “The hospital lights are just really bright.”

“I can take you home, if you want,” Poe offered.

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

Jessika inhaled sharply as a shot of pain throbbed inside her head.

“You’re not fine,” Poe said again. “It’s not going to go away if you don’t rest. You need sleep in a cool, dark place. Y/N can stay with me tonight so you can do that.”

“Y/N’s expecting me--”

“I know, but if Y/N’s got a concussion, the doctor’s are probably going to want someone to watch her tonight, wake her up multiple times and ask her questions to make sure her memory’s fine.” Jessika glanced at Poe, who gave her a small smirk. “I’ve binged medical shows, too.”

She laughed lightly as Poe continued.

“It’s going to be hard for you to do anything let alone care for another person if it gets worse again. Y/N will understand. I know she’d want you to get better.”

Jessika sighed. “You’re right. I’ll go tell a nurse so they can tell Y/N.”

Jessika grabbed her purse and stood up, turning back to look at Poe.

“For what it’s worth, Y/N is really happy with you. And she really misses you. Whatever argument you guys had, I’m sure it’s not worth letting it go on any longer. Take it from me, who said something stupid and hurtful that I didn’t meanl and has barely talked to her best friend in weeks.”

Poe watched her find someone in scrubs, her words being repeated in his head. She was right and he was stubborn. And with you perched on a hospital bed getting injuries tended to, he could care less that you were in an argument. He had been really worried about you.

》》》

An uncomfortable shiver went down your spine as you felt the needle and thread pass underneath your skin. Your head throbbed and your body ached from being jostled around the inside of your car. Anxiousness consumed you as you waited to hear the diagnosis,, practically collapsing forward into the doctor’s arms when he told you that you had been lucky with only minor injuries.

When you finally had the opportunity to call your mother, it took you twenty minutes to convince her that you were fine, that her driving to the hospital would probably result in her ending up in a bed right next to you in the emergency room. You even had to put your doctor on the phone to tell her that you were physically ok and that your roommate would take care of you. She made you promise to rest up and FaceTime her the next day.

The doctor finished your stitches, asking you to hang out while they got you ready to leave. You stretched out your neck from holding it still for so long, sucking in a breath as you grimaced against the pain. Your eyes fluttered shut, the near death experience and adrenaline physically and mentally exhausting you. Quiet, heavy footsteps approached your bed and you opened your eyes in time to see Poe sit down on the end of your bed. Your eyes widened slightly. He was the last person you expected to see.

“Hi,” you quietly said.

“Hey,” he said back, his tone softer than you anticipated. “How’re you feeling?”

“I hurt everywhere, but otherwise good.” You looked behind him. “Where’s Jess?”

“She still has a migraine, so I took her home.”

Your eyes landed back on Poe, softening with appreciation. “Thank you.”

Poe nodded as the doctor came back.

“Y/N, you are good to go. Do you have someone to help you tonight?”

“I will,” Poe interjected, rising from the bed and shaking the doctor’s hand. “She’s going to stay with me tonight.”

Your lips quirked into a small smile. It had been a hopeful sign that he showed up at the hospital, another one when he’d said you’d stay with him.

“Very good. She’s not showing any symptoms of a major concussion, but you’ll both want to monitor for symptoms since she did hit your head - memory loss, balance issues, and prolonged dizziness to name a few.” The doctor spoke directly to Poe, making sure he understood before turning to you. “Here’s some gauze pads. You’ll have to change them out a few times a day, especially after taking a shower. We’ll see you back here in a week to take those stitches out. Take it easy for the next few days. Don’t overwork yourself. Feel free to call us if you have any questions.”

Poe helped you off the bed as you thanked the doctor, keeping a hand on your back as he walked out with you. He grasped your arm as you got into the front seat of his car, patiently allowing you to take all the time your sore body needed. Poe was cautious as he drove to his apartment, careful because of the roads and careful to not scare you. He could tell by the short breaths you were taking and the bouncing of your leg that you were nervous about getting back on the roads that took you out so soon. His car hit a patch of ice as he slowed down to brake for a stop sign, the sudden jerking movement making you tense up.

But neither of you spoke, the only sound in the car coming from the radio.

Poe was helping you, out of obligation or care you didn’t know, but you didn’t want to push your luck by bringing up your argument. He was an affectionate person but he wasn’t touching you like he usually did. You didn’t know where you stood and that worried you.

Beebs jumped and greeted you happily as you walked inside and you had to regretfully nudge him off of you due to your aching body. The warmth of his apartment made you realize how wet and cold your clothes were from the accident. Poe led you into his room, going into the drawer and grabbing some items of clothing.

“I’ll let you change,” he said quietly. “The shower’s yours if you want.”

And then he shut the door behind him. You’d almost wished you were at your own apartment just so you wouldn’t be surrounded by the tension. Going into the bathroom, you placed his clothes next to the sink and turned on the shower, the idea of scalding hot water a heavenly thought. As the water warmed, you removed your clothes and for the first time that night, you looked up at your reflection.

You were beat up. Small cuts and bruises littered your body from the impact, the cut on your forehead disguised by gauze but throbbing painfully as the edges pinked with the beginnings of a bruise. You peeled back the gauze pad and stared at the cut that was at least the length of your thumb and the ends of the stitches sticking up haphazardly in every direction. For a lack of a better term, you were a mess.

Stepping into the shower, the hot water instantly relaxed your muscles. You carefully washed away any remaining traces of blood, the water at your feet turning pink as it spiraled down the drain. Instead of taking a full shower, you stood under the stream of hot water, replaying the entire night in your mind.

Poe wouldn’t have come to the hospital if he didn’t want to be with you anymore...he wouldn’t have taken you back to his apartment if he no longer cared...right?

You needed to know where you stood.

When the water ran cold, you got yourself together and got out. As you dried off, you pulled Poe’s clothes and smiled. He had grabbed your favorite shirt of his. You slid it over your head, the familiar scent bringing you immediate comfort. His sweatpants were baggy on you, but at least the relaxed clothing wouldn’t constrict your body.

Poe’s bed was still made, indicating that he hadn’t been back in the room since you got into the shower. You sat on the edge, the big bed threatening to swallow you whole if you slept in it alone. Knowing you wouldn’t be able to sleep without saying something, you went searching for Poe. You walked out to see him setting up bedding on the couch. It hurt.

“Poe, can I say something?”

Your voice was quiet, meek; like you were afraid. Poe stopped moving, his attention completely on you. You felt less nervous when you saw the gentleness on his face. It was now or never as you took a deep breath.

“I have never been more ashamed of myself in my life. What I said...you trusted me with something that hurt you so bad and I used it against you in a stupid argument. I broke that trust.” Tears welled in your eyes, threatening to fall with each spoken word. “I never meant that what happened to you was any less important than what happened to me. I can’t even remember why I said it, but I did. And I hurt you.”

You took a shuddering breath, two single tears falling from each of your eyes.

“I know we’re not talking right now and I can wait until you want to talk, but I couldn’t go to sleep without you knowing how sorry I am. Because I am so, so sorry.”

Poe was silent as he took in your words. The emotion behind them nearly broke his heart.

“I don’t want to lose you. And I don’t know if you can ever forgive me, but I will do whatever it takes for however long it takes for you to forgive me.”

With a final breath and a strange comfort knowing that your words were out there, you turned to go back into Poe’s bedroom. His footsteps and soft voice stopped you.

“Y/N.”

Poe placed a gentle hand on your back, turning you into his chest and wrapping his arms around you. You sniffled into his chest, your own arms coming up around Poe’s waist and squeezing him into your embrace as a few more tears fell. The fear, the anger, the loneliness; all of the emotions of the past two days overwhelmed you as you clung to Poe like he was your lifeboat and you were sinking. Poe cupped the back of your head, placing a kiss on the crown and resting his face in the softness of your hair as you continued to whisper apologies into the fabric of his t-shirt.

Poe pulled back, damp spots on his t-shirt. The hand that cradled your head came down to wipe the tears off of your cheek. Poe unwound his other arm from you, encouraging you with a gentle push to go with him into the living room. He sat you down on the coffee table, sitting down on the couch directly in front of you, your hands held by his.

“I’ve already forgiven you,” Poe said, and you felt a huge weight lifted from your chest. “And I’m sorry, too. I had no right to get angry with you because of my own jealousy.”

Your shoulders dropped, the weight that had just lifted from your chest returning.

“Turns out you were right, so I guess you did have every right to be mad at me for not telling Ben.”

Poe tilted his head in confusion and you blinked away tears.

“If you’re going to get mad at me for this, please do it tomorrow. I don’t have it in me to fight with you again,” you prefaced. You were pretty sure you’d have a breakdown if you got into a shouting match with Poe. “I got coffee with Ben today, as friends, and he told me he wanted to give our relationship another try. So, I told him about you and he didn’t believe me so I stormed out. I was on my way here when I got in the accident.”

Poe exhaled deeply. Clenching your jaw, you looked away from Poe’s eyes so you wouldn’t have to see the disappointment and anger in them. You went to remove your hands from his, but he just held tighter.

“I’m not mad,” Poe finally said. You looked back up at him. “I’m not the kind of guy that won’t let you have guy friends. It just makes me uncomfortable when your guy friends still want to date you.”

“It makes me uncomfortable too, especially because he didn’t respect me for turning him down and my desire to keep you private. I don’t want to be friends with Ben now that I know this.”

Poe released your hands, not because he was angry but to run a hand through his hair. It was completely messed up from the multiple times he had done it since Jessika called him.

“This was a stupid fight, wasn’t it?” you asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, kinda,” Poe agreed, leaning forward and resting his arms on his legs. “If I hadn’t said anything, you wouldn’t have said anything, and none of this would’ve happened. So we’re both at fault.”

Nodding in agreement, you suddenly laughed. The action confused Poe.

“I’m kind of a hypocrite,” you said, shaking your head in disbelief.

“What do you mean?”

“You can forgive me for saying something hurtful but I can’t accept Jessika’s apology? I’m a hypocrite.”

Poe placed his hand on your knee, his fingers wrapping around the bend of your knee. His thumb caressed your kneecap.

“You’re not a hypocrite,” he said. “Everyone processes hurt different. You’re human. Give yourself a break.”

The corners of your lips twitched and you shook your head in disbelief.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Yes, you do. You deserve everything.”

You tried to stop the smile on your face, but couldn’t.

“There’s that smile,” Poe said as one graced his own face. You chuckled lightly. You put your hand on top of his.

“You know it was risky for you to come to the hospital?”

“I know,” Poe said softly, “but I’m your boyfriend and I had to make sure you were ok. And you’re worth the risk.”

Warmth spread from your neck to your cheeks. Poe had an incredible ability to make you forget everything you know, from his touch, his words, and even with just a look. You didn’t know how to respond to this man, this kind, kind man who had taken care of you despite being in a fight with you. So you said the only thing you’ve been thinking since he sat down on your hospital bed.

“Can I kiss you now?”

Poe chuckled. “Please.”

You stood up and pulled Poe’s lips to yours with both hands on his face, a sense of urgency behind the movement of your lips. You climbed into his lap, Poe gently guiding you down as he leaned back against the couch. You missed his kisses, the softness of his lips and the way he kissed you like it was better than breathing. Your hair fell around you, acting as a shield between the happy bubble you were in and everything else. He pushed your hair back from your face and you melted into the tender touch, the warmth of his hands on your skin lighting your skin on fire and igniting one in your belly.

Poe’s hands moved from your neck down to your waist to bring you even closer. You gasped sharply as his grip tightened, making him pull back suddenly with a worried look.

“Bruises,” you whispered with a half chuckle. “I have to take it easy for awhile.”

Poe placed a kiss on your lips, his hands tenderly moving down your waist to rest on your thighs.

“Well, it’s a good thing I like you for more than sex.”

“Oh, I’m such a lucky girl,” you yawned. Poe chuckled.

“You need sleep.”

“Come with me?”

“I don’t know,” Poe leaned against the couch, relaxing into his spot. “My couch is pretty comfortable.”

You sighed loudly and dramatically, sliding off of Poe’s lap.

“Suit yourself.” You flashed him a cheeky smile. “I’m sure Beebs will be happy to keep your spot warm.”

The flicking of light switches turning off echoed behind you as you walked into Poe’s room and climbed into his bed. Poe got in next to you, settling onto his side and looking down at you.

“How’s your head?”

“It hurts.”

“What’s your name?”

“What are you doing?”

“Making sure your minor concussion hasn’t become worse,” you gave him a look. “Humor me, please?”

You rolled your eyes. “Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N.”

“Who am I?”

“You’re Poe Dameron, my incredibly sexy and kind and wonderful boyfriend.”

Poe smiled down at you,

“What day of the week is it?”

“Friday. Well, technically Saturday now.”

Poe nodded, content with your answers. He then pressed a kiss to your forehead. When he pulled away, you placed a hand on his cheek to stop him from moving away. You gazed up at him, like you were memorizing every inch of his face. Lifting your head, you placed your lips on his for the second time, this time with a tenderness only lovers shared. Poe’s eyes were soft when you pulled back.

“Thank you for forgiving me,” you whispered, caressing his cheek with your thumb.

Poe leaned down and kissed your lips, the tip of your nose, and then your forehead before relaxing his head onto your pillow and pulling you into him. Your arms encircled him, your head nuzzling into his chest.

On a night you think you wouldn’t be able to sleep, it welcomed you like the familiar arms that held you.

tag list [open!] - @ah-callie @darksideofclarke @gloomygoregirl @leilei-draws @imaginecrushes @i-ievu @brianamaree @yeeintensifies @spider-starry @krazykatkay456 @fanfiction-trashpile @afootnoteinyourhappiness @easterncryptid @my-child-gaara @myrandom-fandomlife @onebatch--twobatch @the-cry-of-youth @p3nny4urth0ught5 @porgiez @umchrisevans @galaxy-of-stories @seeking-a-great--perhaps @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @dameronsgalaxygal @mserynlarsen @yougottakeeponkeepinon @maze-It101

#poe dameron x y/n #poe dameron #poe dameron x reader insert #back to you series #modern au #modern poe dameron #poe dameron fluff #poe dameron angst #poe dameron x reader

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wisemanners · 4 years

Text

@wadamwoltron asked sincerely for my take on The Scene so here it is, i guess, but on my blog and NOT in her DMs like a weirdo. also some additional background context i guess. i’m trying to keep this somewhat objective, though obviously my specific memories are probably going to color it anyways.

so background context: this is mostly metatextual analysis regarding what is apparently a hotly debated topic in fandom of “what shiro’s mysterious disease.” the wiki says muscular dystrophy; we can’t find a source for this (though, if you know of one, please feel free to share). what’s stated in canon (in 7.1, “a little adventure”) is as follows:

it’s a muscular disorder

it’s degenerative

it involves muscle stiffness or tightness, which is alleviated by electrostimulation

we know for sure it affects his right arm; keith’s asking “what are those?” MAY imply that he has two (or more?) EMS devices but in the later scene where he has both sleeves rolled up we only see one.

a quick search of EMS therapy brings up this page which lists the following uses: you suffer from muscle spasms, have suffered from muscle atrophy due to disuse, your muscles need to be stimulated and re-educated, your muscles are weak and lack tone, you've lost range of motion due to an injury or illness. (it’s also used for circulation reasons, but since he mentions keeping muscles loose we can assume it’s related to one of these.) searching “degenerative muscle disease” brings up MD (general) as the first result, followed by other neuromuscular disorders; the symptoms listed that EMS is used to treat check out as the various muscular dystrophies all feature one or more of those symptoms. given that, this analysis will proceed as if this is the factual diagnosis (not ONLY because as far as i recall it was, though that is also the case).

[there are numerous types of MD, and we’ve done a fair amount of research to determine which one is the most likely given the symptoms presented (myotonic, probably DM2), but that’s less significant other than its CURRENT mortality rate.]

that said: the scene itself.

“Everything okay?” The only thing to analyze in the first line is the genuine concern in it, but that does contextualize the scene; i AM coming into this conversation from a place of being worried about someone i love.

“Iverson thinks I shouldn’t be part of the mission. Called in the big guns; Admiral Sanda showed up to try and convince Sam to remove me from the crew.” (there are interesting and significant implications with regards to how the Garrison’s chain of command works here, but that’s not the point of this character analysis.)

“Well, maybe he’s right. Maybe you shouldn’t go on the mission. You’ll only be putting yourself at risk.” the absolute lack of hesitation in agreeing with iverson is i think the bigger clue at the greater context of this argument. this isn’t news. this is something i’ve been thinking about, and have clearly already come to a conclusion how i feel about it. “maybe” is a hedge word here. i DO in this moment think iverson is right, and this is just an excuse to say so. additionally, risk is an important word here, which i’ll circle back to several times.

[additional note on animation: i show almost no expression during these lines, except to frown and look stern at the end.]

“You know how important this is to me. It’s worth the risk!” Aside from tone and expression (he’s clearly upset and desperate here, and even looks away at the end as if he can’t face me), note risk again.

“Takashi, how important am I to you?” I know this line is everyone’s favorite. I understand why, even, especially given the dubious nature of “canon” on our actual relationship. The line itself establishes a lot; the first name usage (canon isn’t super clear on why he goes by Shiro, even with the other people he’s closest with (Keith, Sam, Matt), or its relationship to his Japanese heritage (which is significant here whether or not producer LM would agree), but to this point I’m the ONLY person in canon who ever addresses him by first name) as well as the general phrasing makes this the most obvious statement that we’re in a relationship. That’s arguably good, considering canon does little else to show it.

The significance in the CONVERSATION, however, is to position this as a choice - your dreams, or your partner. It’s actually the biggest reason I hate people siding with me in this argument! That’s not a good thing to ask someone you love to choose. More on support in a second, though, as well as more about what I’m asking for here.

[animation note: let’s talk about my coffee here. the hand shake and slamming down my cup is definitively the most show of emotion I have here, which IS significant. that line + the choice presented AREN’T coming from a place of deliberate manipulation, it’s emotionally charged despite me trying my best not to show it.]

“Every mission, every drill, I’ve been right there with you. But this is more than a mission. This is your life at stake.” here’s the support bit, obviously, since that’s what I’m evidencing here - reminding him that I’ve always been by his side and supported his dreams. that’s not actually the important thing going on here, though, because it’s the end where he cuts in:

“Don’t start that again, Adam! You don’t need to protect me. This is something I need to do for myself.” First: again - we’ve had this discussion before. Second, the timing: it’s not until I bring up the risk again that he gets upset.

A relevant concept here that I think most people in the fandom genuinely will not have heard about but is TREMENDOUSLY important to this conversation and to understanding what’s happening in this argument is dignity of risk. The article linked is a good overview, but in short: many things can only be gained or achieved by taking chances of getting hurt, and disabled individuals (originally those with cognitive and intellectual disabilities, but certainly applicable to physical disabilities as well) are disproportionately PREVENTED by overly-cautious caretakers from taking those chances.

Shiro’s objection that I don’t need to protect him, I think, points really strongly to THIS being the actual issue. I’m trying to look out for his safety because I don’t believe he can or will do it himself (which I DID think, at the time); he feels smothered by this because he’s an adult who has the ability to assess risks for himself and decide which ones are worth it to him to take.

“There’s nothing left for you to prove. You’ve broken every record there is to break.” This is significant in that it shows I think how highly I regard him, but I also think it’s the strongest textual evidence in the scene that we’re talking about COMPLETELY different things - that I fundamentally don’t understand what’s important to him about this mission OR why he’s upset that I’m trying to stop him.

[animation note: he’s stopped arguing, gesturing, or looking at me here, and doesn’t look up again until I reinforce the ultimatum in the next line.]

“I know I can’t stop you, but I won’t go through this again. So if you decide to go, don’t expect me to be here when you get back.” I feel like “I won’t go through this again” is another line that people sympathize with, which makes sense; I’m afraid and wounded, and people sympathize with fear and hurt. It reiterates the cyclical nature of this argument, too. It’s also still bringing back the choice: stop taking chances on things that matter to you, unless I’m not one of them.

[animation note: shiro looks both hurt and angry and doesn’t take his eyes off me the whole time i’m saying this, but doesn’t say anything. I also only look at him once during it, at the very end.]

“I’ve got a class to teach.” probably obvious without additional analysis, but in addition to an emotional reaction, this puts an absolute hard stop to anything else he might say in response.

having gone over the scene, some additional considerations:

I think a lot of people latch on REALLY hard to “this is your life” and shiro’s later “it’s getting worse” line and somehow conflate the two into an implication that this is about a lack of TIME. It is, I think - but NOT the way people assume.

Prognosis now, in the 21st century, is for a good percentage people with even severe forms of MD to live high quality, enjoyable lives into their 30s and 40s or later; even without a curative treatment, it’s reasonable to assume that in the 24th century this has improved. Given Shiro’s current overall health still being good, with the primary effects we see being localized to just the one side, it seems a little odd to assume that 30s-40s is still his life expectancy.

My lines about the risk to his life also don’t actually discuss an imminency of death in GENERAL - it’s SPECIFICALLY risky to go on the mission. why? well, most likely, because a minimum of 10 months is an AWFULLY long time for someone with a serious progressive condition to go without medical care or a checkup. which is a reasonable thing to be concerned about!

but we also have textual evidence that shiro’s GOOD at being responsible and taking care of himself, even if he sometimes sacrifices his needs for others’. he wears his assistive/medical devices. he keeps a workout routine. he can push himself hard, but we also see places where he knows his limits. and the majority of interventions for MD are about upkeep - building stamina, range of motion exercises, monitoring condition - and having the right tools on hand for an emergency. so, at what point does the concern become about not trusting him to take care of himself well, especially when the kerberos mission was in regular contact with the garrison?

and the flip side of the coin about time: with a progressive disease, there IS always a looming time limit, on everything. that included his dreams. our time together wasn’t limited the way people seem to assume - but his time as a pilot was. so having more perspective now, I can see his side better, and find myself frustrated both with myself from before, and with the people who agree with me. it feels dismissive to his wants and needs, as WELL as his right to self-determination.

i don’t think takashi abandoned me when he went to kerberos. i think i abandoned him, when he badly needed my support, by forcing him to choose between someone he loved waiting for him, and a dream which was running out of time. i know it’s popular to joke about what happened and that i’d say “i told you so,” but he was right, and I should have listened better.

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talk1about7seventeen · 3 years

Text

♡︎Safe Haven Pt. 2♡︎

Summary: Remus was recently diagnosed with ADHD and refuses to take his meds. He may need a friend and a bit of rational thinking to find out what’s really troubling him.

Warning: ADHD, blunt/ harsh Logan, talk of mental illness, intense moments/situations, crying, self deprecation, cursing, angst.

Characters: Remus (Kingsley) and Logan (Shepard)

Word Count: 839

Ship/ Pairing: Remus x Logan (Intrulogical) (Platonic)

AU: Human

This is a continuation of my one shot Safe Haven! It’ll probably be like a mini series of my Human AU of Sanders Sides! I hope you enjoy!!! *ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭♡*ﾟ --- I really wish I would have told him then.... But I don’t think I could have...

“Take them.” Logan said to the boy slouched over a prescription bottle that sat on the lonesome table of two.

“I don’t think I even really need them, Lo.” Remus laughed through his words. His thumb brushed against the label which read, Focalin XR 20 mg. Logan pinched the bridge of his nose, adjusting his glasses accordingly. “I would advise you to listen to your psychiatrist. You were prescribed this particular stimulant for a reason. There is no argument that you could provide that could convince me otherwise.” He had been at this conversation for far too long for his patience to still be intact. Logan knew Remus was struggling, this was as apparent as the fact that he was also sleep deprived; it could be read just by looking at him.

Remus sighed, his brows furrowing as he went over the things he could say to him. He was searching for something, anything to get him out of this situation. He balled his hands into a fist as his mind began to race. “You are ill, Remus. This will help you.”

“But what if it won’t!? Have you ever tried considering that!?” He stood up, slamming his palms on Patton’s wooden table. “Have you ever considered....that I’m just too broken...? Or that---I don’t fucking know, Logan!!! Maybe try seeing it from my point of view!? Maybe I don’t want these faulty drugs! Maybe I just want to be how I am without someone reminding me that there’s something wrong with me!” He was shrieking now. Remus’ voice echoed in the walls that surrounded them. There was a heavy silence and an aching feeling it Remus’ chest that could only be described as devastation.

Logan sat, motionless. “Why do we go to the doctors?”

“What?” Remus asked, studying the neutral expression on his friend’s face. “Why do we go to the doctors, Remus?” He emphasized his words.

“I don’t know!” He tried to avoid Logan’s piercing stare. “Yes you do.” Remus let out a groan. “Because---people get hurt...”

“And?” Logan raised an eyebrow. Remus glared at him. “And....people need help.”

“In this case, your psychiatrist, is the doctor in question who studies and practices medicine focused diagnoses of mental, emotional, and behavioral disorders which also includes substance use disorders. Do you, or do you not, have a mental diagnosis?”

“I---I do...” Remus began to sit down slowly, his temper lowering. “Knowing this, isn’t it fair to say that you need help?” Logan asked, his eyes following Remus’ movements. He looked into Logan’s cold eyes. They held no emotion.

“....yes..” Remus mumbled. “Louder.” Logan commanded.

This son of a bitch--- Remus bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from speaking what he thought. “Yes.” He repeated, louder this time. He felt tense, like he could explode more than he already had at any second. “This,” Logan picked up the bottle of pills and held it up to Remus. “This, is your help.”

“Now if you can’t do this for yourself....do it for Patton.” Remus’ eyes widened at the very mention of the sun kissed boy. He looked down at his shaking hands. “You and I both now how you feel about him. So if you were to need any form of motivation, look around you.”

Remus lifted his head up slowly, fighting the tears that threatened to form and he looked around him. He looked at all of the pictures of his beloved smiling, the art, the knowing that he loved Patton far more than he did himself. For him...he thought.

Remus looked back at Logan who still had the prescription in his hand. “Fine.” He reached out and grabbed it gently from Logan. “Read the side effects, become familiar with Focalin XR, take it the same time every day, and for the love of all things good in this world, don’t fuck up.” Logan stood up and pushed the chair in. He watched as the boy with glasses walked to the door and stopped before it. He turned and looked at Remus. “He’ll be home soon.”

Without another word, he opened the door and disappeared within the night. The candles in the room flickered around him. Twisting open the bottle he tipped a capsule into his hand and stared at it intently.

Patton’s face appeared in his mind, the field behind the house, the sweetness of his voice....how close their lips were. He smiled at the idea of Patton so close to him. How being around Patton was like there was no such thing as mental illness or insomnia, or the intrusive thoughts that haunt the part of Remus’ brain that would forever remain locked away from the rest of the world. Patton was the light that existed in Remus’ life....he was the sun.

“For him.” Remus told himself aloud and with all the strength he could muster, he swallowed the pill.

#logansanders #pattonsanders #remussanders #fanfiction #fanfic #humanau #sanderssides #angst #adhd #shortstory

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ladywinterwitch · 4 years

Text

Run Away ( Six - Endings, Begginings )

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Avenger! Reader

Summary: You and Steve complete each other. Your love is that strong and devoted kind of love that pushes people to things like marriage, making a family. You couldn't imagine that a baby would be something you really wished, until the possibility wasn't your choice anymore.

Warnings: Mentions of smut, swearing, mentions of blood, badly written medical diagnosis, fluff, Nat and Bucky are a mess, mentions of abandonement

Word Count : 6720

A/n: Chapter six. The big surprise. Nat and Bucky are working things out. That’s it, enjoy. Series Masterlist here.

(Gif not mine)

-Don't go..- you murmured against your housband's jaw. He sighed while he caressed your naked back.

-I have to, baby. You know how Tony gets when he's left waiting. Also, I think Bucky needs to talk with someone.- he responded and you reluctantly let him go. You sat on the bed, the sheets covering your chest.

-I actually already talked to him. To them both.- you say. He stops for a second.

-You did?- you nod. He sighs.

-I think that they can't go on like this anymore. They have this particular and intense history that will always bring them close, but the way they ere handling things now, or better, how they aren't doing it, it's becoming toxic.- he shakes his head whilist getting dressed.

-I know.- you respond softly. He zips up his suit and you get up from the bed and walk to him with the light sheet wrapped around your figure.

-A little time apart will do them good.- you say, placing your hand on his clothed chest, the other still holding the sheet.

-Maybe for them, but I really wish I didn't had to leave you.- he says lowly with sadness in his voice. You smile sweetly and get on your tiptoes to kiss him.

-I know. But It'll be just a week, right? We've been apart for more than that.- you speak softly while he starts to kiss your neck.

-Don't remind me.- he whispers making you giggle slightly, nudging him away delicately.

-On your way, soldier.- he stands straight and you smirk lovingly. He reciprocates the smirk and gives you one last kiss.

After he leaves you sigh and you sit on the bed with the palm of your hand on your forehead. You're not feeling very well, so you actually consider to stay in bed for a few more hours, considering that you didn't even had the recruits to train.

You open your eyes and as soon as you try to stand up, your head starts to spin a little and the sudden need to throw up invades you. So you quickly go to the bathroom and kneel before the toilet bowl. After a few minutes you finish and come back to the bed, basically falling on it.

-FRIDAY, is Bruce in the building?- you ask, your voice a little muffled by the pillow.

-Dr. Banner is away on a mission with captain Rogers, mr. Stark, sergeant Barnes, miss Maximoff and mr Wilson, mrs. Rogers.- the AI responds and you huff, sitting straght, but still with closed eyes.

-Perfect.- you respond, cringing at the disgusting taste in your mouth.

-Mrs. Rogers, should I call for medical assistance?- you shake your head, then realize that she couldn't see you, so you responded with a 'No, thank you'. You forced yourself to go back to the bathroom again to brush your teeth and the mouthwash.

When you felt better you decided to take a shower. When you were done you stepped out of the box and started to dry yourself up with a towel. You casually glanced at the full lenght mirror and remembered a few nights ago when, while you were just about to make love, Steve told you that it seemed to him that you had gained a few punds. He was joking, but it kind of offended you, so you pushed him off the bed.

You took a looked at the mirror and realized that he wasn't completely wrong; your stomach was still flat, but your belly was indeed a little round. After a few other stares, maybe being your fantasy, but it seemed that your thighs and boobs were a little bigger too. They weren't noticeable changes per se, but they were for someone who knew their own body. You got dressed with your underwear and a pair of leggings, a baby blue long sleeved sport shirt and your short boots. You left your hair down and exited the room to go to the common room.

You felt a bit sad about your latest discovery. After your ‘return’ the team had basically prohibited you to go on the most risky missions. At least for some time. You didn’t really understood why, considering that now you were even stronger that you were before, but Steve especially insisted, forcing you to take a month off missions. So for the past month and a half you had been left behind to train the recruits. Which was basically minimum to none exercise at all. You could see how you could’ve gained a few pounds.

You found it empty, except for Natasha, which was on the phone, leaned near the wall-sized window. When she saw you coming she said goodbye to the person on the other side and hung up.

-Hey.- she said. You gave her an half smile.

-Someone secret?- you ask nudging your head towards her hand. She smirked.

-If you consider Clint a secret, then yes.- you nodded, sitting on the sofa, patting the spot at your side. She walked towards you and sat down.

-How's he?-

-Bored. He adores his family, but he kinda digs the action, you know? If he could put his family in a backpack and bring them on missions, he would.- you laugh.

-Yeah, I can imagine that. But it's right for him to be at home for some time. Laura's life must not be easy. Three kids and a farm to look after, all alone. It's right this way.- you answer. She nods in agreement.

-So, why up so late? Steve left early this morning.-

-Yeah, I know. I may or may not tried to convince him to come back to bed, but he's too honorable for that.- Natasha chuckled.

-Yeah, poor innocent Stevie.- she joked.

-And Buck? You said goodbye too?- you said casually. With the side of your eye you noticed that she stiffened a little.

-Didn't see him this morning.- she stood up, walking towards the kitchen. You followed her.

-Coffe?- she asked and you nodded.

-Did you two actually tried to talk and not to jump at each other’s throats?- she huffed and turned around as soon as the coffe machine began to do his work.

-Straight to the point, I see.- she crossed her arms.

-You argue a lot lately.- your tone was calm. You didn't want to make the impression that you wanted to force her to talk.

-Yeah, I guess we do.- she muttered, turning again to pour the coffe into the mugs.

-It's just..things aren’t working anymore between us. When we saw each other again, after all the years in the red room, it was just like coming back home again, you know?- she paused, looking at the mug between her hands. Meanwhile you went to the counter to add sugar and milk to your coffe.

-We just got together right away. Loving each other, making up for all the lost years.- she smiled a little and you did too. -It had been good for some time, but then something broke. We weren't able to stay together, but in one way or another we ended up in bed. Every argument, every gesture. So we went for a more 'booty call' kinda relationship.- you listened intently.

-Then again, that wasn't enough anymore. He started to do one night stands with diffrent girls, and so did I. Even then we still cared for each other. We were jealous, had this need to be together. It's not healthy, we both know it very well.- she bit the inside of her cheek.

-And now?- you interjected. You wanted to understand exactly where she was at, so you could help her, but it wasn’t always easy with Natasha.. She gazed at you for a split second.

-Now nothing. Literally. We haven't been sleeping together since forever, and in addition to that we almost can't stand each other's presence anymore. If I have to be honest, I'm pretty sure that he has something else on his mind right now.-

-Something?- you asked, trying not to give away the fact that you already knew it.

-Someone.- she retorted sharply. You were a little taken back from her tone, but you didn’t pay it too much attention. Anyone would’ve been a little angry about something like that.

-I was going to break up with him anyway. For good. I love him, I mean, I would probably jump in front of a train for him, but I don't feel the same way anymore. And he doesn't either, so it's better like that. I wouldn't want to ruin the last few pieces of our relationship that are left.- She turned again with her usual smirk, even if a bit more bitter than usual. You can’t help to smile a little, because they’re more alike than they think. And you silently thanked God for that. It means that they will go through it, if not well, at least in agreement.

-Now you want to tell me why you were up late or not?- you did a gesture with your hand as if to brush away the question.

-I took my time to get up, and to get a shower.- you answered, putting the empty mug in the sink.

-What about we go out for lunch? I'm already starving.- she huffed a laugh.

-Yeah, well, hear me out. First thing first, it's barely eleven in the morning. And second, if we go out, you'll have to try to not order the whole restaurant.- your mouth dropped open while she laughed.

-You bitch! Are you and Steve in some kind of agreement? I get it, I eat a little more than usual lately, but there's no need to be asses about it.- you crossed your arms, a little defensive.

-I'm joking, hun. But lately you're eating a lot more than 'a little bit'. And what about Steve now?- you both started to walk out of the kitchen.

-Yeah, whatever. A few days ago we were kinda in the middle of something, and completely out of the blue he goes 'It's my impression or do you look a little round, darlin’?'- you mocked his deep voice and Nat widened his eyes, trying not to laugh.

-And instead of responding, I straight up pushed him off the damn bed.- she let out a loud laugh.

-What happened then?-

-In the end he apologized, saying that it wouln't matter for him anyway, as he should. But I didn't give up, and turned my back to him. I mean, you just called me fat while we were about to fuck and you think you can get away with it? Absolutely not.- she continued to laugh while you went down to the gym.

You and Nat joined Thor and Vision on the gym for a few hours, then went out for dinner instead of lunch. The morning after you got sick again and you cursed the poor sushi chef. You actually got a rough night, so you didn't pay too much attention to the sickness. It was always hard when Steve went away on missions. You missed him at your side and you always got worried.

Nonetheless, you faced the toilet again first thing in the morning. At that point you asked FRIDAY to search for an efficent stomach antibiotic. She found the best one and you went to a pharmacy to buy it. And you sure hoped that it was the best, because damn, it was expensive.

The prescription said to take two pills every day, before lunch and dinner, for at least a week. You did it, but for the next three days you didn't feel better and people started to ask about your delays, or why you just avoided every type of scent from the kitchen. It was so wired. You threw up your entire soul on the morning, but at night you ate basically everything that was on sight.

Also, the medicine leaflet said that if taken at the right hours, the relief shoud've been noticed already the day after, two maximum. But you didn't feel better, at all.

You started to wonder if maybe you didn't had a food poisoning. You didn't really knew what to do, and also the team would've been back in two days, so you tought that the best thing woul've been waiting for Bruce.

And so the days passed, the team came back in the middle of the night and you, into a deep slumber, didn't even notice when Steve snuggled in bed with you after taking a shower. You woke up feeling hot, and when you tried to move the sheets, you realized that you coudn't even move your arm. You widened your eyes in panic and sighed with relief when you looked down at the naked arm embracing you. You smiled and turned to face him. He was still sleeping.

'Poor baby, he must've been so tired', she tought. You started to caress his beard, a new look that you enjoyed very much. His eyelids fluttered open slowly and he gave her a sleepy smile that mirrored yours.

-Hey handsome.- you whispered.

-Hey beautiful.- he responded, with his morning voice. You liked that very much, too. But on the other hand, you loved the entirety of him.

He leaned onwards to give her a kiss. She accepted gladly, and a few moments later, he was above her, trailing his hand on her side, the other on her cheek, his elbow the only thing that kept him up. But just when the kiss deepened, she moved from under him and got up, running to the bathroom.

-I know that it's morning, but am I really that bad?- he joked, a little confused. His attitude changed when he heard you coughing. He got up, in his joggers and a short sleeved t-shirt, and went to the bathroom. You was kneeled in front of the toilet, coughing and throwing up.

-Hey, hey, baby. Take it easy, honey. What's happening?- he asked softly with worry in his voice. He goton his knees near you on the floor, and took your hair gently into a makeshift ponytail. With the other hand placed on you back, soothing and caressing up and down.

After a few minutes you finished and he helped you stand up, while flushing the bowl. You reassured him and quickly washed your mouth. Steve picked you up bridal style and brought you to the bed, not listening to you saying that you were fine, 'cause clearly you weren't.

-Do I need to take a basin? Water?- he asked caressing the hair near the forehead.

-I'm fine, Steve. I just need a minute.- you said weakly.

-Why are you sick anyway?- he asked. You sighed and shook your head slightly.

-Don't know, I think I caught food poisoning of some sort. Been going on like this for some days, but I'm on antibiotic so.- you answered.

-Why didn't you call me?- you smiled a little, rasing your hand to reach his cheek.

-Love, you were on a mission. Plus, I'm not dying, okay? It's just some disgusting food. Don't worry.- he shook his head, careful not to make her move her hand from his beard covered cheek.

-You should've called me anyway. I always want to know if something's wrong okay? After wha happened three months ago..I- you sushed him, pulling on his neck to bring him to you. You hugged tightly.

-I'm fine, Steve. Really. If it’ll make you feel better, I'll go get checked by Bruce okay? Oh yeah by the way, did everything went well? Everyone's okay?- he nodded.

-Yes, and yes to the second one. Please, I would be more reassured if you did.-

You asked FRIDAY to inform Bruce that you needed to see him and he gave you appointment a few hours later, after luch. The lunch that you hadn't been able to eat, to be precise. Steve had gone to talk to Fury about the mission, so you went alone. Before you went into the lab, you saw a glimpse of Nat and Bucky going down the elevator. You really hoped that they could find some peace.

You knocked even if the door was open, just to annouce yourself. Bruce was sitting at one of the desks, with a fuming mug in hand. He turned around and smiled at you whe he saw you.

-Hey. Come in.- you closed the door and went for a hug.

-How was the mission?- you asked, sitting next to him. He was wearing glasses and his curly black hair were a little more rebellious than usual.

-Smooth. Almost boring. Didn't even got beat up.- he joked making you chuckle.

-That's good.- he gave you a lopsided smile.

-What about you? I walked into Steve a couple hours ago and he asked me to check on you.- you nodded, sighing.

-I told him that I can handle it, but he made me promise to get visited, so here I am.- he rose and eyebrow, expectantly.

-It's been like, a week of throwing up. Few problems with my stomach, but none with the sleeping, let me tell you. Hadn't slept this good in months.- you emphasized the last words.

-Sure that that's not your husband's fault?- you jaw dropped at the tease and you smacked his arm slightly.

-Bruce Banner!- you exclaimed laughing. He laughed too, before focusing again.

-Well, it's not normal to be thowing up every day. What do you think it is?-

-Food poisoning, probably. Or maybe a bad stomach bug that got worse eating sushi.- you shrugged. He nodded thinking, and you added -I began to take an antibiotic anyway.-

-Since when did you began to take it?-

-Like, five days ago.- his brows furruwed and he got up, gowing towards one of the glass lockers. You saw that he took out a syringe and a test tube.

-As I already said, it's not normal. The antibiotic should have immediate effect, or at least you shouldn't be throwing up anymore. I'm gonna take a few drops of blood for a test, and in a couple of hours we'll know what's wrong.- he explained calmly. You nodded.

You rolled up your sweater's sleeve, and Bruce took just about the half of the syringe, then he applied a band aid and told you to come back in three hours. You thanked him and went to do your usual training with the recruits.

You just finished your turn five hours later and went straight to Bruce's lab. You were a little late, but you couldn't just leave the recruits in the middle of the training class.

You knocked and he opened the door letting you in. You saluted Tony who was busy with some files.

-Okay, I have been a little busy, so we’ll look at them together now.- he says absently while searching for the results on the laptop.

-Here it is.- he mutters narrowing his eyes in concentration. You were looking at Tony working while waiting, and saying that you jumped to the roof when the sudden noise of ceramic breaking reached your ears would be an understatement. Both you and Stark turned around to see what happened, and saw Bruce with a hand on his mouth and the coffe mug on the floor, in pieces.

-Bruce are you all right?- you ask with worry.

-Fucking hell Banner, lucky you that that damned coffe wasn't near any electronic devices.- he rolled his eyes calling for FRIDAY and asking to one of the maids to come and clean.

-Bruce?- you repeated again. He let himself fall on the chair, looking at you.

-You're pregnant Y/n. The blood test says that there's nothing wrong, except that you're pregnant.- you don't say nothing. Tony freezes, dropping his own mug. You're so shocked that you don't even flinch.

After a few seconds l Bruce calls for you tentatively, and you suddenly start to giggle, then laugh histerically.

-Oh God, I almost belived you almost got me for a second.- you say trying to catch your breath, but your smile died as soon as you saw that neither Bruce nor Tony were laughing. Iron man had went to the laptop, looking by himself.

-Y/n, it's true.- he said. Your breath was stuck in your throat and you felt like the roof was crumbling on you.

-H-how...It's not possible.. I- I can't..- Bruce came quickly to you placing a soothing hand on your shoulder.

-Y/N, look at me. Can you breathe for me? Just like that. Good.- he repeated while you breathed deeply.

-But didn't she had some sort of genetical condition?- Tony asked, confused. Someone knocked and an old lady dressed as a maid came in, with a mop to clean.

-Okay, uhm. I'll stay here, you go on lab 3 and do some check-up alright?- Stark said. You and Bruce moved to the next room and he closed the door, immediatly asking you to take off the swater for the ecography. You did and layed on the couch. He put gel on your stomach and started to examin you.

-Shit. You see that?- he says lowly pointing at a tiny thing, very similiar to a bean. You start to feel your eyes burning from the upcoming tears.

-That's my baby?- you ask almost naively. He smiles and nods.

-With what I can see, you're at least two and a half months pregnant. And not to be mean, but you kind of put on a little belly already.- you were in between laughing and burning him with your gaze. But in that moment all that you could do was look at the screen.

-But how is that possible?- you finally gazed at Bruce.

-Well, actually if you look to it, your uterus seems to appear different from the last time we did this. My theory is, when Steve and Bucky gave you their blood, with the super soldier serum, they kind of healed you. You are stronger, faster, you eat more because your metabolism requires so. Your sight is perfect, as well as your hearing and your reflexes. So it's not impossible that your uterus...healed too. I also forgot to mention that the blood test came back 100 % infected by the serum, like I had predicted.- you were speechless.

-Just think about Steve. Before the serum he was a lot shorter, had lungs problems, asthma, genetic conditions, was very thin and in poor health. If you think about it, it's not that impossible.- he said excitedly by his own realization.

-Oh my god.- you breathed. You stopped a few seconds to think about it, then a thought came to you and you expressed it to him.

-It worked on Steve. Why didn’t it heal Bucky?- you frowned, speaking softly. A sad expression appeared on the doctor’s face.

-Y/n, growing a whole new limb is not the same as correct a small internal malformation, nor like curing asthma. Bucky already had some super soldier serum in him before he fell from the train. And, even if miraculusly the serum could’ve actually been capable of healing him, he didn’t have enough in his system then. Also, Hydra gave him that metal arm. Even if it wanted to, the skin would’ve had an obstacle. It’s awful, but unfortunately it’s not the same.- hearing all over again what Bucky had been through made your stomach clench, and for once the blame wasn’t your baby’s.

Your baby. It sounded so wired and impossible to you. You were in seventh heaven, but you also couldn’t help but think about all the process, the time and the progress you went through to accept that the possibility of having a child wasn’t possible to you. And instead, here you were, pregnant and healthy, a baby growing inside you.

You thanked Bruce, hugged him and then practically run towards the elevator, but when it opened, you saw on one side Natasha and on the other Bucky. They both had the same mixture of anger and sadness in their eyes. Nat had glossy eyes and Bucky was chewing on his lower lip.

You were a little taken back when you saw them, and you honestly wanted to disappear, because you were so happy, while they were so broken. Bucky's face lit up and his crossed arms untangled, almost by surprise. Nat saw his reaction and looked at the source, and when she did, oh boy, you think you never saw her like that. She just straight walked past you towards the stairs. Bucky stopped the doors from closing and you stepped in timidly, pushing the button to the gym’s floor.

You finally looked up at him and he gave you the shadow of a smile. You did too.

-Are you okay?- you said softly. He took a deep breath, nodding.

-I am now. I said what I had to say, even if she didn't took it that well.- he bit his lip nervously.

-Oh, Buck.- you whispered, latching your arms around his torso. He didn't expect it so he didn't reciprocate right away, but then he circled you with his arms and melted into the embrace. The little moment was broken by the doors opening. You both let go, Bucky more hesitantly.

-If you need to talk, you can come to me. Or Steve. You know that.- you say to him with one hand on his cheek and the other blocking the floor. He was looking at you with such affection that almost made you want to hug him again until he was smiling again. But you couldn't. Not right now.

-I love you.- he said. You felt a strange sensation in your stomach, but you brushed it off. You took off the hand from his cheek and smiled at him sweetly.

-I love you, too Bucky. You know it. Maybe we can catch up when you're feeling to? Right now I have to get to Steve.- there was almost a sense of guilt in your words. He nodded and took a step back in the elevator.

-Of course you do. See you later, don't worry.- he gave you a small lopsided smile before the doors closed. You let out a sigh and got yourself together before reaching the running space, where you knew that he would’ve been. As expected, he was standing in a side of the gym, arms crossed in his training black suit, watching the trainees sparring in partners.

You walked towards him, he was giving you his back, focused on the training. But suddenly a very small boy stopped the match and stood straight doing the military salute, getting punched by his female parter which was as confused as Steve. So he turned to see what he was looking at and when he saw you he grinned.

-Tamara, bring him to the infirmary.- he ordered.

-Yes captain.- she said, taking the small boy's arm around her shoulders. When they walked past you, you stopped them.

-Hey, what's your name?- you asked smiling at him, his eye already starting to water. He looked starstruck when you talked to him.

-Benjamin, ma'am. Benjamin Bates.- he tried to do the salute again, but you delicately stopped his hand.

-Hello, Benjamin. Now, I appreciate the respect, trust me, it's really important. But your training and your well being,- you nudged at his eye, -Is more important. Next time try to be more careful, okay?- he was so flushed that he seemed ready to burst. He nodded.

-Thankyou ma'am.- you nod your head a bit and they moved on. Meanwhile a few of the trainees had stopped to look at the scene. Steve noticed and shouted at them to take a five minute run. No one had the courage to protest and with 'aye captain' they did as told.

You giggled and Steve smiled shaking his head, leading you to the office.

-So, to what do I owe this very well appreciated visit, mrs. Rogers?- he flirted, leaning back on the desk, beefy arms crossed and a smirk palying on his lips. You smirked too, getting close to him.

-What? You already forgot about the visit that you imposed me, captain?- you faked offense and he nodded, actually remembering it.

-How could I. So, what did Banner say? A big bad fish hurt my lovely wife?- you chuckled and placed a hand on his broad chest, he was grinning widely at you.

-You're in a good mood uh?- you teased. He suddenly gipped your sides bringing you attached to him, your faces a few inches.

-I always am when I am with you.- he said lowly, making you blush, looking down with a stupid smile on your face.

-So, Banner?- he insisted and you cleared your throat, recomposing yourself.

-Uh, yeah. I'm okay. No poisoning, no big bad fish.- he nods.

-That's great. But then why are you being sick?- he asked. An idea shoot though your mind, and you stepped away, deciding to play with him a little. You started to walk around the room casually, looking at photos, documents without particualr attention while talking.

-Oh, well, it's actually your fault.- you shrugged and he almost chocked on his saliva.

-What?- he blurted out.

-Yeah. He said that it's your fault, because you had...too much fun.- this time he stood straight, uncomfortable and quite flustered.

-Oh god. Oh...uhm..Have..Have I been to rough? Is that it? Oh baby I'm so sorry I- you brust out laughing, confusing him even more. You tried to keep yourself from laughing by biting your bottom lip. You walked towards him and saw that he was looking at you with puppy eyes.

-You're a silly man, aren't you?- you said lovingly, while latching your arms around his neck.

-But, Y/n..It's because of that? Please tell me. I don't understand.- he shakes his head.

-I said that you had too much fun, not that you hurt me. You would never do that, I know it honey. But you know, I think we should learn how to be a little quieter in future, to not disturb our new neighbour.- you said dead serious. He looked at you even more confused, trying to process the phrase.

-New neighbour? Be quiet? We have a floor just for us, who should...-then he stopped mid sentence. He narrowed his eyes.

-Are-are you saying what I think you're saying?- he asked with a little hope in eyes.

-I don't know. All I know is that if you don't learn real quick to change diapers, I'll be the one to kick your ass. Then you'll know how your trainees- he interrupted you with a kiss. He then grabbed your waist, raising you slightly from the ground, making you spin a little. You let out a muffled scream and started to giggle.

-Feel like.-you finished the phrase smiling while he looked at you with happy tears threathenig to spill from his blue eyes.

-Y-You're pregnant? How is- Are you- he continued to interrupt himself and you chucked again, placing your hands on his cheeks.

-Yes, I am pregnant. I am certain, and to anwers the 'how'..-your gaze softened.

-Is thanks to you. And Bucky.- he understood right awa, and brough a hand to cover his mouth.

-Just like..me. It healed you like it healed me.- you nodded and you almost could feel your own tears coming out.

-I'm going to be a dad.- he said, more to himself as a realization than to you, but you smiled and answered anyway.

-Yes, baby. And you're going to be the best dad in the world.- you gave him a peck on the lips, and in that exact moment you were interrupted by a trainee with short breath.

-Cap-captain Rogers, we did ten minutes and- Steve couldn't stop a stupid smile on his face.

-Yeah, rest of the day off.-

-Oh! Thanks sir. Thankyou. Mrs. Rogers.- he nodded at you and you gave him an half smile.

You and Steve were so happy, that you coulnd't wait to tell the team about the baby, so after dinner you and Steve stood up and everyone looked at you.

-Uhm, so. We have something to annouce.- you said, a little embarassed by having all eyes on you.

-You're moving out?- Wanda said with worry.

-No.- you responded.

-You're getting a divorce?- Sam tried and everyone threw daggers at him with their eyes. He put his hand in the air in mocking defeat.

-Just guessing.- he defended himself.

-No.- Steve responded to his question firmly.

-Then..?- Thor engaged you. You and your husband smiled at each other and then he wrapped his arm around your waist.

-We're having a baby.- he stated. The table fell silent, except for Tony and Bruce who rose up quickly to hug you, even if they already knew.

-Wait, what?- Sam widened his eyes.

-You're pregnant? For real?- Wanda said excitedly stepping up. You nodded as you parted from Bruce and went to hug her.

-Yes.- you responded sheepishly.

-Three months ago, when Y/n almost left us, Bucky and I gave her blood, as you know. And you also know that since then she acquired the super soldier abilities, what we didn't know, was that this change also 'healed' her entire body. And here we are.- Steve explained smiling at his best friend, whose on his behalf, wasn't smiling at all. He looked quite shocked actually, but then seemed to wake up from his thoughts and stood to go hug Steve.

-Congratulations punk.- he said parting quickly.

-It's thanks to you too, Buck. We wouldn't have this opportunity if it wasn't also for you. Hell, she probably wouln't even be here.- the blonde said with gratitude. Bucky was getting umcomfortable for some reason.

-Don't even mention it.- he responded in the end. Then Steve turned to hug Thor and Sam, and Bucky looked at the woman he loved. There, he said it.

He was in love with Y/n, and it was a damn mess. She turned to him and excused herself from Vision and Wanda.

-Hey.- he reciprocated your smile.

-Congrats.- he pulls you in an embrace, nuzzling his nose in your soft hair. You close your eyes and clasp your arms behind his torso.

-Thankyou. For everything.-

-It's nothing, doll.- he shrugs. You part from him just enough to look at him in the eyes.

-It's not nothing. Your friendship, your support, your kindness. This.- she lookes down for a split second, -It's also thanks to you. So just accept the gratitude and shut up.- you smile and he chuckles.

-Alright, alright.- he nods and they break the embrace, much to Bucky's discontent. Y/n looks around for a moment.

-Where's Nat?- she asks to no one in particular. Steve walks to her side.

-She said that she's waiting for you on the balcony.- he responds calmly, but with a strange sadness in his voice. You frown but just nod and go towards the open area. You close the glass door behind you and you see her sitting on the swing seat.

She gives you a lopsided smile when she sees you approach and you reciprocate. You sit next to her.

-Well, I guess I should make my congratulations to the new mom-to-be.- you huff a little laugh and shake your head.

-I still can't believe it.-

-I'm really happy for you two. You deserve it.- she says.

-I'm just...All that pain. Was actually useless.-

-No. Pain is always a way to become stronger, to grow. Also, before, you actually couldn't have kids. You couldn't know what would happen. You didn't know that there could be a possibility. The important thing is that you accepted it and you didn't let the sadness put you down.- you gave her a half smile, grateful for that pep talk. There was a pause, then the redhead spoke again.

-I'm going away. For a while, at least.- your head snapped quickly towards her.

-What? When? Why?- she looked down sighing.

-I leave tomorrow. I actually asked Fury for an undercover mission, and he assigned me one. I need some time by myself, Y/n. I need to clear my mind and stay away for a while.- she explained, trying not to hurt you.

-But..Nat I need you. It's selfish as hell, I know, but I wish that you’d stay.- you said, -But I understand. If that's what's best for you, then...it's what's best for you.- you cringed at your own words, feeling too upset to actually form a sentence with a logic sense. She chuckled a bit and took your hand.

-Thanks. But I promise that I'll be back for when the baby's born. I couldn't miss Steve's panic.- you both laughed.

-You better be.- you teased.

-Don't worry honey. There'll be plenty of people here for you. I assure you that.- she spoke the last words with a bitterness that you didn't quite understand, but you decided to not ask. Instead, you hugged her.

-Take care of yourself. And try to call once in a while-

-I'll try.-

Nat left just after your conversation, entrusting you with the job of telling the others where she was. You felt sad at her departing, but you pushed that thought aside, thinking that it was the best thing for her right now. You were left alone in the balcony, just enjoying the fresh air of the night.

-Here all alone, doll?- you opened your eyes slowly as a smirk creeped on your face. You turned to the voice, not really surprised. You had enhanced hearing now after all.

-Just enjoying a little peace.- you respond to the tall dark haired man in front of you. You leaned against the metal bar, your body open to him. He had his arms crossed and a lopsided smile graced his handsome features.

-Fair enough. You won't be having any of that in a few months.- you sighed and he chuckled. He noticed that you started to involuntarily stroke your arms, so he got closer and wrapped himself around you.

You grinned at him and hugged him back. The two of you kept staring at the stunning view of New York's lights.

-I'm really happy for you, you know that right? Both of you. No one deserves this more than you do. You'll be a wonderful mom.- you gnaw on your bottom lip delicately, trying not to cry. You gaze up at him and smile.

-You think so?-

-Obviously. I’m sure of it. Because you know what it means to grow without a family and you’re a good person. You’ll know what to do. And Stevie too. He’s a punk, but he’s one of the best people I’ve ever met.- you chuckle slightly.

-You know about Nat, don’t you?- you said more like a statement than a question. He nods and speaks after a few seconds.

-Yeah. She told me this morning.-

-So you finally talked?- he nods again. Rubbing his hand on your arm to warm you up.

-Yes. Turns out we were more on the same page than I thought.- his voice was calm.

-That’s good.- you didn’t mention your conversation with her. They talked, it was over and you shouldn’t interfere anyway.

-Mmh.- he hummed in agreement. - We said that we were sorry, that we care for each other but it’s best if we end it, and we did. Then she asked me if I had someone else. I told her that I had someone in my mind, but I wasn’t with them. She got a little mad because she felt betrayed. I respect that, so I apologized and wished her the best. I asked if we could stay friends, but she said that she needed some time first.- you placed a hand on his chest to soothe him.

-Bucky, I’m with Nat for the friends part. You have a lot of baggage by yourselves and a history together. I know that you probably think you’re okay with being just friends, but you both need time apart. You can’t end something like that and pretend it didn’t happen.- your voice went form calm to a bit more firm tone, -I’m fucking upset that she’s going away on her own okay? But I understand where her mind is and I think this time will do her good. And you should try to move on, in an healthy way, too. Maybe try something with whoever’s on you mind, mh?- you part from him with the intention to go back inside and give him a smirk while saying the last phrase.

He doesn’t laugh or smile at first, and you think that maybe you went too far, but then he steps closer and places a hand on the back of your head, kissing softly your forehead before stepping back again.

-Thanks for the talk. Now, we should go back inside. It’s getting late, you’re cold and Steve would kill me if I let you freeze out here.- his sweet tone reassures you a bit and with his words you step inside, your body instantly warming up.

You turn around and Bucky’s already gone. Your heart drops slightly. He’s clearly not okay now, but he will be. Two warm hands lay on your shoulders startling you a bit.

-Hey, it’s just me.- Steve chuckles and kisses your cheek.

-Can we go to bed? I think I really need a good ass nap.- he laughs again and nods, interwining your hand and leading you towards the elevator. You both quickly wave at the remaining members of the team and head up for your floor.

Quite some news in this chapter, uh? Don’t worry, it’s not gonna be all fluff and unicorns for long, not to spoil or anythin’ ;)

If you liked it and you care about the story continuing, I ask you to leave a feedback to let me know, if not, it’s okay :)

Taglist: @polarcrystall @a--1--1--3 @silver-winter-wolf

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raendown · 5 years

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Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 4307 Chapter: 16/? Summary: Not all wars are fought on the battlefield. Some are fought at the conference table, with whispers in the shadows, or even in the bedroom.

In a world where the Senju and Uchiha traditional lands were too far apart to have ever made them enemies, Butsuma and Tajima are the ones who come together and sign a treaty of peace. Madara isn’t happy to have his life signed away for him in a political marriage to strengthen the bond between their clans. He is even less happy to have Tobirama make assumptions of him from their very first night together. What follows from there is a journey of healing, of learning, and finding the places to belong in the places least expected.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Chapter 16

They were tired and hungry, their bodies sore, both of them bleeding sluggishly from at least three places each, but Tobirama took a mild sort of satisfaction from the fact that Izuna looked utterly ridiculous with his long ponytail drying in to a stiff cast of mud. He tried not to imagine what his own head looked like but, still, no matter how stupid he looked it could not possibly compare with the hard little tail hanging from the back of his partner’s head.

Chakra flared in the distance and Tobirama struggled up from where his body had almost entirely merged with the thick mud cradling them. Loud, wet suction noises announced his movement and Izuna groaned but did not look up to watch him crawl his way over to the entrance of their hiding spot. He’d told his mission partner they were taking shelter in a cave but in reality he had shoved their battered bodies down in to a hollow area he’d found underneath one of the massive redwoods that made up the forest surrounding the capital city. Their dirty little cavern had only one entrance, easily disguised by stuffing it full of branches and leaves, but in the fog of exhaustion and pain Tobirama realized he’d forgotten to conceal their chakra.

“Abandoner,” Izuna mumbled, barely enough energy left to speak let alone work himself up for a proper accusation.

“I’m not leaving,” Tobirama said. “I’m just- do we have anything sharp left?”

“Your needle?”

“Oh. Yeah.”

A minute of digging brought out the needle he’d used to sew Izuna’s wounds shut. Now he turned it around and dug it in to the wood of the tree, carving a chakra dampening seal in to the root closest to the blocked entrance. Honestly he wasn’t sure either of them even had enough chakra left for someone to sense them without standing on their heads but it was better to be safe than sorry.

When his carving was done he let his body slump back down in to the mud again. Dirty and cold it might be but it was also surprisingly comfortable, something that should probably worry him a lot more than it did. If he had more energy for such thoughts he was sure this situation would seem a lot more serious but right at that moment the only pressing matter on his mind was whether or not he could fall asleep yet and whether Izuna would still be alive when he woke up again.

“How much blood do you think you’ve lost?” he asked. Izuna grunted.

“Dunno. Lots. Probably more than a liter.”

“Ah, you’ll be fine. So long as the bleeding is at least slowing down then we should be able to get some rest before we get the fuck out of here.” Tobirama let his eyes fall closed with a heavy sigh.

Squelching noises accompanied by a few irritable grunts almost convinced him to open his eyes again but Izuna fell still again quickly, clearly giving up on whatever he’d been trying to do. Probably roll over. In the silence that followed it was all too easy to let the dim lighting and the heaviness of his limbs work together to pull him down under the veil of consciousness. Tobirama didn’t so much fall asleep as he did pass out with an utter lack of dignity.

He woke again an undetermined amount of time later. By the solid darkness in their hole he supposed it must be night, although he couldn’t have said whether it was that same night or if they had slept for more than twenty-four hours. Either option seemed as likely as the other. A quick internal scan told him that his body hadn’t recovered quite as much as one might hope but he felt a few steps farther away from death’s door and that was a victory at the very least. It did take a bit of extra effort to free his head from the mud cast that had dried around him as he slept but eventually he was able to haul himself up in to a sitting position and look around for Izuna, forming a weak tongue of flame with a single hand sign.

Covered in dirt as they had both been when they crawled in here, he almost thought Izuna had disappeared so well did the man blend in. It was seeing the faintest reflection on the necklace he always wore that differentiated Izuna from the rest of the lumpy mud. Tobirama fought to free the rest of himself from the dried mess and crawled over to shake his brother in law gently.

No response. Whether that was because he was just too tired or too unconscious Tobirama couldn’t say without a medical diagnosis. Too tired himself to think of a better plan, he figured the best thing to do was for them both to get out of here and at least get some fresh air, maybe dunk themselves in a river if he could find one. Surely all the rain that churned up so much mud would have collected in a few pools here and there. For once the heavy fall rains were good for something other than keeping him awake at night. Breaking Izuna out of his earthen cast took a while with so little strength in his arms and Tobirama had to give himself a few minutes rest before dragging the man’s unresponsive body up out of their hole.

If he hadn’t been monitoring Izuna’s chakra for fluctuations with what little he had gained back himself Tobirama would have suspected it was deliberate that the man chose to finally wake up just as he got them both out in to the open air. After all that hard work he couldn’t decide if he was thankful or irritated to see dark eyes fluttering open and cracking the brown film of dirt that had dried over top of them.

“What in all the bloody hells did I drink last night?” was his first question. Tobirama paused.

“Nothing. Which is bad. Dehydration. We need to find water.” Ironic when last night it had dripped from every surface around them. Autumn was such a garbage season.

“Can I go back to sleep?”

Squinting in the darkness, his light gone out since he needed both hands for all that manual labor, Tobirama wondered if his partner had a concussion after yesterday’s battle. “No sleeping. We already slept. We’re going to find water and I’m dunking you in it.”

Amazingly, Izuna failed to argue with him for the first time since they set off on this god-forsaken mission nearly a week before. If he hadn’t been worried about a concussion before he certainly was now. Up until their track and observation mission ended up in an ambush they barely escaped with their lives Izuna had been questioning his every word and choice, sometimes for no viable reason other than that he seemed determined to fan the flames of his own hatred. It was honestly quite tiring to deal with and if Tobirama hadn’t promised himself he would try to make nice they would have come to blows with each other days ago.

Now there was nothing but silence as he sluggishly worked Izuna’s deadweight on to his own back like a meaty knapsack and staggered forward with lumbering steps. Soft breathing ruffled the few strands of hair that weren’t plastered and dried to base of his neck. For the first little while his only clue that Izuna hadn’t fallen unconscious again was the miniscule fluctuations in his barely-there chakra whenever something caught his interest or a misstep caused pain to flare through both of their bodies. Eventually Tobirama realized his own eyes were drooping as well and if he didn’t find something to distract him he might pass out himself, probably sending them both crashing against a tree.

He didn’t really want to talk about this disaster of a mission, though. The less time spent thinking about yesterday’s ambush the better. Which, of course, left him with very few conversation options so it was no surprise that he turned first to the only thing they seemed to have in common.

“What was he like as a child?”

“Nn?”

“Madara. What was he like when you two were young?”

Silence dragged on after his question to the point when he began to wonder if Izuna were simply ignoring him. Then finally there came a quiet huff of amusement from beside his ear. “He was a dick. Liked to throw me in the koi pond behind our house whenever I was winning an argument.”

Tobirama smiled, almost surprised he still remembered how to.

“A bully, then?”

“No, not really. He just didn’t like it when I was right because he was older and he thought that made him right all the time. I think…he wanted me to know that he would always protect me but he tried to show that by always knowing more, always being stronger, and as a kid that was just really annoying.” Izuna shifted against his back. Tobirama wondered what he was doing for a moment before he realized the man was laughing quietly.

Eager to know more, he prompted his companion to keep going. “Sounds like he was pretty protective of you.”

“He still is,” Izuna mumbled. “He worries over the smallest papercut, he asks if I’m eating right all the time, he’s always reminding me that I can come talk to him if I ever need to. Yeah he can be grumpy and his social skills could definitely use a bit of polish but I’ve never doubted that he loves me. Not once.”

“That sounds nice,” Tobirama admitted wistfully.

“It is. He is.” After pausing for a minute to think he added in a tone that suggested he had almost forgotten who he was talking to for a minute, “You don’t deserve him.”

Whatever reaction he was waiting for, he didn’t get it. Tobirama had hoped they could stretch out the good will for a little longer but he hadn’t bothered to let his hopes get too high. The half-hearted attack was more than anticipated.

“I think I deserve to be happy just like everyone else, although I would agree with you that I haven’t done as much as I should to earn his good will.”

“Damn straight,” Izuna said. He sounded irritated that he hadn’t been able to start a fight.

“You know he would be much happier if we didn’t scream at each other quite so much.” Although he knew the other couldn’t see him, lifting one of his eyebrows in a pointed expression was like a natural instinct.

“Go fuck yourself,” Izuna retorted almost cheerfully. “He would be happier if he wasn’t trapped with you for the rest of his life. Don’t talk about deserving happiness with me. You want him happy? Then let him go. Let him find someone that he actually wants to be with; then he’ll be happy.”

Tobirama didn’t answer at first. He forced his legs to continue stumbling on while he let his thoughts settle, unsteady beneath their combined weight yet refusing to give in so easily. There had to be some water around here somewhere, his instincts told him that he was close and his instincts had never lied about water, not once in his life. It was easier to think about how nice it would be to finally rid his body of all the dirt crusting his skin rather than what Izuna had said to him, especially so since it was something he had already spent a great deal of time thinking about and he had come to his own conclusions a long time ago.

“It is the tradition of my clan to allow an arranged partnership to seek divorce after five years. If, when that time arrives, Madara still wishes to be free of me then I will not stand in the way of him seeking his own path.” He wondered if he should make that more clear to his husband or if bringing it up would only remind the man of how trapped he was for the time being.

“Wait, seriously? Just like that?”

“Much as you seem to enjoy painting me as the villain, yes. Just like that. This match was made originally to cement our clans together but I don’t think either of our fathers could have anticipated just how well the Senju and the Uchiha would integrate. Give our people less than a year and I don’t think anyone will even remember what it was that kept them together in the first place. Certainly none of them would turn their heads if Madara and I…ended our marriage.” Just saying it made all the deepest parts of his insides ache but he refused to allow his voice to waver.

“Ha! See! I knew you didn’t care about him at all! You just married him because you were told to!”

“Of course I only married him because I was told to! We’d never met!” Tobirama scowled down the forest path ahead of them. “It’s what I grew up expecting to do. That is how things are done in the Senju clan. We’re told who to marry and then we make it work.”

Izuna scoffed. “Disgusting.”

“Just because it’s different doesn’t make it disgusting,” Tobirama snapped back.

Then he snapped his head to the left and barely held in a whine of longing. Water. He could feel the water in that direction. He changed course without even thinking about it.

“Doesn’t matter what you say, I think the whole practice is gross. But whatever. As long as Madara has a way out of this garbage then I guess I can put up with you for a few years.” Izuna sniffed delicately. He sure had a lot of attitude for someone entirely reliant on the person they were sassing.

“How generous of you,” Tobirama ground out.

A few steps later they closed their eyes to let a few low hanging boughs brush over them and then there it was, the most glorious sight either of them had ever set their eyes upon even in such low lighting. It wasn’t a very large stream, not even deep enough to go over their heads if they sat down, but the burbling water was crystal clear and it was perfect for two exhausted men who could barely stand the thought of keeping themselves upright for a second longer.

Tobirama staggered drunkenly as he splashed in to the center and a few new bruises blossomed on his knees when they folded to send him crashing down with Izuna still heavy across his back. A sigh of near ecstasy parted his lips as cool water rushed over him. It was almost more than he could process just to keep them both from lying flat out and drowning themselves in blissful relief. Behind him Izuna groaned and rolled away, the first movement he’d made for himself since waking up. The two of them splashed and rolled and rubbed at all the most important spots until finally they felt less like they were wearing an itchy second skin, more like they were human again.

“I’m alive!” Izuna declared with his usual dramatic flair.

“And I’m thirsty,” Tobirama mumbled. Blithely ignoring the screaming protests of his muscles, he dragged himself a few inches upstream to where their filth hadn’t polluted the water and dunked his head for a long drink, just barely holding in a moan as his parched throat finally received the hydration it had been crying out for.

He wasn’t surprised to see Izuna follow suit, dunking his face for a few long droughts of water. Then the two of them were left sitting upright in the center of a small stream without the energy to pull themselves back out.

“Well now what?” Izuna demanded. Tobirama blinked at their surrounds.

“Think you can shuffle over to the bank? Looks like the angle would make a decent backrest.”

“Hn. I can try. But if I slip under the water and don’t come up I will haunt you for a decade if you let me drown.”

Tobirama snorted even as he began his own awkward shuffling. “Noted.”

After a bit of uncomfortable maneuvering they were able to plant themselves in to semi-reclined positions on opposite sides, facing each other across the burbling stream. Their gazes locked and Tobirama tilted his head to contemplate the similarities between Izuna’s bitchy face and Madara's bitchy face. He was pleased to note that, while there was indeed a resemblance, there was enough details different that he wouldn’t be seeing echoes of Izuna every time he had a disagreement with his own husband.

“What do you even want from him?”

“Hm?” The question didn’t seem to have a connection to anything they’d been talking about but, then again, Tobirama’s mind felt pleasantly emptied by the bath and the drink.

“My brother. What do you want from him? Why can’t you just leave him alone?”

“It’s strange to me that you assume I must have some sort of alternate agenda in my own marriage.”

Rolling his eyes, Izuna scoffed. “Don’t act like this is a real marriage to you.”

“How is it not real?”

“You don’t love each other!”

“But we could,” Tobirama pointed out softly. “And that opportunity is what interests me. We could love each other.” Speaking so openly about this sort of thing with Izuna of all people was about as painful as he would have expected it to be but he forced himself not to flinch away from the subject at hand. Clearly these were things that the man needed to hear.

And just as clearly they were things he didn’t want to hear. His already taught expression tightened even more until he turned his head to mime gagging in to the river. “That’s bullshit. As if my brother could ever love you.”

It took every scrap of self-control Tobirama had in his arsenal not to react in any visible way to one of his greatest fears given voice. He had barely even given himself much time to come to terms with that fear, that he might have made himself a failure of a husband, that he might be so unlovable that a man like Madara could turn him away even after they had come so far and he had put in so much effort. With every day that passed he grew more and more attached in the way he knew a husband was meant to but without the power to crawl inside Madara's mind there was no way for him to tell if those sentiments were returned.

“He won’t love you,” Izuna declared in an icy voice. “I know my brother. He could never fall in love with someone like you.”

“What is that even supposed to mean?” Tobirama snapped.

“Someone cold! Someone who doesn’t know him like I do! Someone who doesn’t care about him! Or care about anything!” He opened his mouth to keep going but Tobirama had taken about as much abuse as he thought anyone could be expected to take several days ago and now he finally decided that enough was enough.

“I dragged your sorry ass to safety, didn’t I? You talk about me not caring but I’m the only one between us thinking about how our fighting affects the one we’re fighting over! If you had listened to a word I’ve said for the past week you might have noticed that I am trying damn hard to learn about him – but no! How am I supposed to ‘know him like you do’ if you won’t tell me anything? Do you know what I think, you spoiled fucking child? I think you’ve gotten too used to being the most special person in Madara's life and you feel threatened that someone else might come along and dethrone you!” Turning his head, Tobirama spit downstream to show his derision. “Well let me tell you something, princess. That’s stupid. If Madara falls in love with anyone that doesn’t mean he’ll stop loving you. You’re his brother. So get over whatever dumbass complex you have and let him decide what makes him happy!”

Exhaustion settled over him anew in the wake of his outburst. He could hardly remember the last time he’d said so much at one time outside of the meetings when he gave presentations. Even Izuna seemed shocked in to silence, completely still and staring back at him with both eyes open wide, jaw hanging loose. It was a hilarious and fitting look for his stupid face.

Tobirama lifted both hands out of the water to drag them down his own face. Despite how satisfying it had been to vent all the frustration that had been building over the course of their time together he was more than aware that he had probably just driven an even bigger wedge between them than ever before. Yelling at the brother in law he’d been looking for a way to schmooze definitely wasn’t the way to win himself any forgiveness.

And yet there was something contemplative in Izuna’s silence, a fragile note of tremulous realization. The silence lasted for a long time after Tobirama’s impassioned speech. Neither of them spoke for so long that he actually felt like his body had begun to recover and the current of the river they were still sitting chest deep in had time to work like a gentle massage, rejuvenating him the way falling unconscious for several hours hadn’t. He’d just started thinking about the possibility of moving to find actual shelter where he could bandage both of their wounds properly when Izuna finally spoke again.

“Madara can fall in love with whoever he likes,” he began slowly, “and I won’t try to stop him. It’s my opinion that I don’t think he will ever love you but if I’m wrong then I’m wrong. Just as long as he’s happy.”

“That is all that I hope for as well,” Tobirama said.

“Fine. So here’s the deal. I don’t like you. The way you guys were forced together feels immoral to me and there’s just something about you that always rubs me wrong. But if it’s really stressing him out so much then I guess I’ll just try to visit when you’re not there.”

While that did sort of undermine the point Tobirama was trying to work his way around to he was smart enough not to point that out. Just getting Izuna this far was a greater accomplishment than he’d started to believe was possible and he was no stranger to the concept of quitting while he was still ahead.

“I can live with that much,” he agreed. “We should get out of here. My chakra isn’t quite at the level I need it to be yet so we should probably get some clean bandages on your leg until a medic can see it.”

“Chakra? What are you gonna do, body flicker halfway across the continent?” Izuna snorted.

Smiling to himself as he forced his legs to stand up and wade across the flowing stream, Tobirama hummed agreeably and thought of the new seal he’d been so proud of himself for finally completing. “You would be amazed how far I can reach.”

“Believe it when I see it,” Izuna said.

There wasn’t much he could think of to say in response that wouldn’t cause a fight so instead Tobirama grunted before leaning down to haul Izuna up to his feet. “Carried or walking?”

“Carry me.”

“Lazy.”

“And yet you are going to carry me anyway.”

Tobirama made them both stand face to face so he could say, “My other option is letting you expire here alone in a stream because you are too stubborn to get up and follow.”

He didn’t wait for a reply, quickly turning and ducking down so he could fit the shorter man’s arms over his shoulders and get a solid grip under both knees. Then he stood up and waited for his new burden to shift in to a comfortable position before wading back out of the stream and heading back in to the quiet forest. If not for the distant sounds of wildlife he might actually be a little suspicious of how quiet the woods around them were and how long they had gone without sensing anyone even sort of close by.

Whatever had become of the squad that quite literally ran them in to the ground yesterday, that would have to be a problem for later. For now Tobirama set a course for the brilliant spot on his senses that had to be the capital city and headed out at an easy pace.

“Do you even know where you’re going?” Izuna demanded.

“Do you always need something to be complaining about?” he retorted. “Yes. I can feel where the closest dense population is and it’s straight ahead in this direction.”

“Freak. How the hell can you sense that far when you don’t even have enough chakra back yet for a jutsu or something?”

“I was born with my inner eye open, as Hashirama likes to say.” He would have shrugged if not for the weight on his back. Izuna grunted and fell blessedly silent with no more arguments.

Although he had very little trust in the longevity of that silence Tobirama figured he might as well get as far as he could before the bickering started up again. With his gaze set dead ahead and his senses spread out to watch for anyone approaching he let the rest of his mind wander back to Konoha where a warm bed awaited him along with a husband who he could only hope missed him even half as much as he missed Madara.

#rae writes #madatobi #tobirama #izuna #fanfiction

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webcricket · 5 years

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Castiel Imagine

Imagine: A grace-less Castiel doing his darnedest to take care of you when you're sick.

[A/N: Based on an ask from @81mysteriouslyme - “Just thinking: how would human!cas take care of a sick reader? Like sick sick. I reckon he’ll be insanely sweet and adorable but also a complete dork. Out of desperation he would also call Sam and Dean for help as he realizes he really has no idea what he is doing.”]

The plague - he read in an alarming article hyped in the headlines just last week in the Lebanon Daily Star that the black death pandemic that wiped out half of Europe in the 14th century is experiencing a renaissance resurgence in house pets populating the southwest. Mad-cow disease. You do enjoy a cheeseburger almost as much as Dean with the added benefit of table manners. Ebola. The trip to the zoo several weeks ago where Castiel insisted on spending hours in the primate exhibit observing the monkeys fills his heart with foreboding.

The list of fatal ailments he discovered in a Websummon search after plugging in your symptoms stretches endless in seriousness and judging by the patients populating the Doctor Sexy reruns Dean plays between cases in his man cave, it seems like humans stricken suddenly by dire disease is a daily occurrence to be expected.

Cas is convinced you need a team of specialists caring for you in a fully-equipped quarantine ward rather than a grace-less angel who burned the toast he tried to make you to calm your upset stomach … twice. You settled for crackers straight from the cupboard after he carried the smoking toaster into the bedroom, fingers singed black, eyes apologetically glassed, and hair frizzed on end after attempting to extricate an annihilated slice of bread from its fiery confines with a fork while the appliance was still plugged in. At least the flickering lights had nothing to do with a supernatural foe.

Disregarding the fragility of his own immune system at present, the one-time soldier of the Lord perches on the mattress beside you; irises glaze in concern as he gazes at your shivering sweat-drenched figure thrashing fitfully beneath the thin white bed sheet. The aforementioned list nagging his thoughts, he brushes the saturated tendrils of hair aside from your temples to check for small pox lesions. Relieved to see none, he lays a tender touch upon your forehead.

Wakened from tenuous sleep when his palm presses to your dampened brow to test the temperature, your whine of protest rapidly devolves into a congested cough. Given his lack of angelic aptitude, he can only guess at the sweltering height of the number.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, the soft smile he usually reserves for you inverts into an anxious frown when the fatigued hollows of your watery eyes resolve on him. “You were having another bad dream.”

A fever dream to be exact. “S’okay.” You manage a strained sigh, throwing off the well-meant layers of extra warmth he piled on your extremities while you slept. Despite his inept nursing skills, there’s something reassuring about having him here as you drift in and out of consciousness. Muscles stiff and aching, you regret the loss of insulation, seized by a renewed wave of chills.

He frets over the hem of the wool blanket, fumbling his fingers along the scratchy fabric and tucking it again beneath your thighs. He doesn’t like seeing you wracked by shivers, at least not sickly ones. “Are you hungry?” he asks, feeling a burden of utter uselessness to ease your suffering in his human state. While you slept he looked up a video demonstrating how to make toast in a frying pan; going so far as to bookmark it for reference, he’s optimistic of his ability to mimic the task. If that doesn’t work, he has one requiring an iron to use as backup. And there’s always the can of chicken soup he discovered in the pantry if he wants to do battle with the microwave.

The thought of swallowing anything of substance sets your stomach churning precipitously upward. Rocking to your side, you assume the fetal position to suppress the rising pressure and prepare for the worst.

If Cas had any sense about what was coming or fondness for his sneakers, he’d do the same. “Sorry,” he repeats the sentiment because he truly is, “I-” He’s not certain what he wants to say. The fact is, without his divine gifts, he’s out of his element. Deciding on a silent show of support in lieu of syllables, he lays a hand soothingly to your side, smoothing across the shuddering landscape until the nausea naturally subsides.

The distraction helps. Cas sticking it out when you must look and smell God-awful means the world to you because it’s evidence of his love. It’s one thing to say those three little words, another to dance them in a tangle of passion, but being there when you’re at your worst, that’s the real definition of devotion.

For Cas, it’s not enough. He wants to do better; to be better - for you, so you get better. Losing you, it would be his biggest failure and one he isn’t sure he could survive.

Digging into his hoodie pocket, he retrieves his cell, closes the open web page of the sickness symptom checker, flicks through his short contacts list, and calls Sam on speakerphone.

“Hey, Cas. What’s up?” Sam answers.

“Y/N’s fever,” Cas murmurs, pausing his caress at the peak of your shoulder to squeeze, encouraging you to lie on your back. “I suspect malaria.”

“It’s not malaria,” Sam snorts, intuiting the former angel consulted the internet for a diagnosis.

Sam’s probably correct. You haven’t traveled to a tropical or subtropical region ever so the odds of exposure hover in the region of extremely unlikely; unlikely, although not impossible. “Websummon suggested-”

“It’s not malaria,” Sam insists, unleashing an airy snicker.

“Gimme the ph-” The phone emits a static buzz as Dean steals it from his brother to slam it to his ear. “Look buddy, the last time we were in tropical paradise sippin’ cocktails was never.” The elder Winchester’s voice bellows confirming Cas’ own inner argument against the diagnosis. “Sam’s right. It’s just the flu or something simple. Y/N’ll be fine in a few days.”

It occurs to Cas if you do survive it’s high time for a vacation. First he needs to get you through it. Perhaps a call to Rowena would have been more helpful, but then there might be the nastiness of personal favors owed and he’s not certain, lacking celestial clout, what he’d have to trade for your life or if influenza is reason enough to involve a witch. All the anxiety emerges as a rasped, “But-”

“But nothing. There’s Tylenol in the first aid kit, two every 4-6 hours until the fever breaks,” the hunter advises. “And, Cas?”

“Yes?”

“Angel mojo or no, you got this.” The call disconnects.

“He’s right, you know,” you mumble weakly, garnering his attention; gravel inflammation grates your tonsils as you speak. Clammy cool fingers wrap his wrist until the phone falls forgotten from their flexing tips with a bounce on the bed.

“About the flu?” Cas’ brow crinkles in confusion. When you attempt to sit up, he props a pillow behind your back and ensures you stay covered and warm.

You shake your head, coughing into the crook of your arm. “No, about you,” you croak. “You being here, I already feel better.”

A smile curves at the corner of his mouth, flattening the fretful lines of his features; his eyes gleam so brightly blue you can’t tell if it’s the fever muddling your senses, or a tiny speck of grace still simmering somewhere within the seraph.

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statusquoergo · 5 years

Text

Part I

Back with Samantha and Lucas, we’re getting right into the unofficial PTSD diagnosis with all of Samantha’s usual tact and subtlety (“You have PTSD, don’t you?”). Lucas denies it, claiming that he went to an MD while he was on tour and begged him not to put the diagnosis in his file, resulting in his being diagnosed with and medicated for anxiety and sent on his merry way with the hope and expectation (Lucas’s, not the doctor’s) that it would clear up all on its own once he got out of the military. Of course, it did not, and Samantha’s solution is to get someone other than his (now former) employer to “pay.” I assume for treatment.

I have a few problems with this whole scenario.

For one thing, it doesn’t make any logistical sense; it sounds like Lucas is well aware that he has PTSD, but is desperate to avoid that specific diagnosis for some reason. He has no problem going to a doctor for psychoactive medication, but dammit, he does not have PTSD. The thing is that while a diagnosis of PTSD, or anxiety, for that matter, would have prevented him from enlisting in the military, and should have prohibited him from continuing to serve, research data suggests that many are skirting the rules; if PTSD could have gotten him kicked out, anxiety should have carried the same risks, and either way, a diagnosis was unlikely to do him any actual harm. Or much good.

For another thing, from a narrative perspective, this probably sounds terrible of me but I genuinely do not care about Lucas, or his problems. I’ve never heard of him before and I just met him like twenty minutes ago, and all I’ve picked up in that time is that he not only didn’t seek treatment for his illness but actively avoided it, despite seemingly knowing and acknowledging, at least privately, the reality of it; it sounds like his employer did his best to accommodate him (e.g., rearranging the furniture in his office so that his back wouldn’t face the door) but was completely justified in letting him go. The script ticks off the usual PTSD symptoms—flashbacks, nightmares, aggression, trouble sleeping, trouble getting out of bed—but this is all the usual Suits MO of telling without showing. (No seriously, it literally ticks them off in a list: “Of course I saw a doctor.” “And why was that?” “Because I had trouble sleeping.” “Because of nightmares, flashbacks?” “I don’t wanna talk about this.” “Well, we’re gonna talk about it because I can’t defend you if you’re not being honest with me.” “Honest about what? About how there are nights I’m afraid to close my eyes and days I never get out of bed?”)

The problem is that the show puts much more focus on Samantha trying to win Lucas’s case than it does on demonstrating the difficult position Lucas is in, or the allegedly close relationship the two of them have (or had); she keeps insisting that he’s suffering, that she feels bad for getting out of the service while he stayed for two more tours, but we don’t spend enough time with him for me to see it, and they don’t seem to have much more camaraderie than, say, Harvey and Teddy Doyle, his old client who shows up in “Inevitable” (s07e13) to ask for his help. I keep being told to empathize with Lucas, or maybe feel anger at what he’s suffering through, but I just…don’t. It feels more like the show is capitalizing on an increasing public awareness of PTSD as a legitimate disorder and is banking on viewers having some reflexive response to the words being thrown around; “anxiety,” check, “nightmares,” check, “flashbacks,” check. But in reality it’s so much more complicated than that, and the symptoms can be so varied beyond what people have been taught to expect. And this may all boil down to my hypersensitivity to PTSD stories being told right, but this one is done so, so poorly that I’m really annoyed by it more than anything.

On a lighter note, Harvey approaches Thomas to take the firm back as his representation, thereby avoiding the need for Faye to meet with him about his departure. Harvey lays out his “Yes we asked you to perjure yourself but technically if I’d followed the law you would’ve lost out on your expansion” argument (well done, sir), and Thomas…brings it all back around to Donna. Who is she to Harvey? Why, she’s the most important person in his life, he claims monotonously with deadness in his eyes, and furthermore, she knows it. Thomas agrees to hire them back on the condition that Harvey represents him instead of Alex, on the grounds that Harvey just honestly answered “the most difficult question [Thomas will] ever ask,” and all is forgiven. Well, that was easy.

Faye sees through Samantha’s bullshit story about taking Lucas’s case before Faye showed up and forbids her (I’m just going with it now) from using firm resources to work on it, so naturally Samantha asks Katrina if she can use her expense account. Katrina, being of sound mind, refuses; Samantha bemoans the fact that Lucas has PTSD while she wears expensive dresses and has a good job, and Katrina, having apparently lost her marbles all of a sudden, agrees to help on the condition that they do it “on the up-and-up, and pick a fight [they] can win.” Not at all sketchy.

Harvey drops the bomb on Alex about Thomas, Faye has what I’m going to call a bonding moment with Katrina, and we’re back to Camp Darvey for a late-night chat.

So in the last episode, I was none too pleased about the writers taking Rick Sorkin and trying to make it into a Darvey thing, but they’re really dead set on going for the jugular here as Harvey boasts that he always makes it feel like everything’s gonna be okay because…he’s Superman. Recall, if you will, this lovely observation of Louis’s from “The Arrangement” (s03e01): “[Harvey] always was [alone]. Harvey’s not Superman anymore. He’s Batman. And Batman needs Robin.” Now tell me with a straight face that they’re not Darvey-fying everything Marvey.

Next up, Faye derails Louis’s attempt to tell the associates that her presence is a non-issue and Alex interrupts him yelling at Benjamin for not hacking the Bar’s password-protected digital bylaws (again, freely available), and Alex and Louis decide to relieve some stress by going bowling, because why not. Louis hasn’t tried it since he was a kid and his fingers were too fat to fit in the holes, but once he starts imagining Faye’s face on the pins (top-notch CGI here, truly), it turns out he’s a natural, and the guys have some cute bonding time as the writers finally manage to fit Dulé Hill’s tap dancing ability into the script.

Meanwhile, Samantha’s case hits a bit of a snag as she tries to bully the CEO, whose name is apparently Tom, into admitting that he knew Lucas had PTSD and didn’t get him treatment (conveniently forgetting the part where Lucas specifically avoided a PTSD diagnosis because he didn’t want treatment) and Tom points out that doing so would require an official diagnosis, which Lucas doesn’t want (there it is). Samantha bitches to Katrina that the company’s $25,000 offer is too low and she wants to exhort a higher settlement, and Katrina seems to regain her lost marbles enough to point out that Samantha’s emotional involvement is blinding her to the fact that what Lucas really needs is treatment, and this isn’t the way to get it.

We’re back to Louis being awkward as he tries to tell Donna how happy he is for her and Harvey— Well, he’s thrilled for her but even happier for Harvey, because she’s “the best thing that’s ever happened to him.” I’m officially convinced that a threesome with Harvey and Donna is somewhere near the top of Louis’s bucket list. Also that Louis and Donna would be a way better couple than Harvey and Donna.

But I digress! Turns out Thomas hiring them back wasn’t so easy, because he can’t actually handle being Harvey’s client when he’s apparently not quite so much over Donna, so Donna takes it upon herself to fess up to Faye about why he really left.

Almost.

She does sort of gloss over the part where he left because Harvey made him lie at the deposition, implying instead that he left the first time around for the same reason he left the second, i.e., they were a couple and now they’re not. Faye buys it, and I’m a little disappointed in her, but I doubt Samantha is over Robert’s name being taken down, so maybe there’s hope it’ll come up again later.

Samantha informs Lucas of the result of the not-a-lawsuit, namely that he’s being awarded $25,000 and also that she invented a company to contract to SW Industries for $100,000 for a year’s worth of treatment for him, which he’s suddenly tearfully willing to admit that he needs, and this is such a hollow storyline that now I’m just offended.

A small saving grace comes in the form of Faye grilling Louis for getting Benjamin to hack the Bar’s (freely available) bylaws and delivering the truly inspired accusation that the firm is populated by “a bunch of wild dogs running around, defecating all over the legal standards [they] swore to uphold,” which I would dearly love to see become this season’s tagline.

Donna and Harvey put a damper on things by contemplating celebrating having successfully lied to Faye by breaking out the can opener, but thank god they’re interrupted by Louis loudly trying to fire Benjamin for getting caught doing the exact thing Louis directed him to do. Donna and Harvey storm the…IT department, I guess, to stop Louis from acting crazy, and let me tell you, the Darvey red flag that’s raised here is big and it is bright.

I’ve been worried for awhile about Harvey losing his agency and sense of self once he enters into a relationship with Donna, and this is a great example of why. Donna tries to stop Benjamin’s termination by putting it to a vote, Louis says that the hiring and firing of support staff isn’t subject to a vote (I’m inclined to agree), and Donna furiously retorts: “The hell it isn’t! Right, Harvey?”

Right here is a perfect encapsulation of Donna’s habit of using Harvey’s affection for her against him (see again the COO example [s07e02]). They’re in the middle of an argument where she has no standing, and rather than try a different tactic, or try to convince Louis to come around to her side, she turns to Harvey to back up her original point. And he does it, promptly replying “Right” (despite the fact that she is probably not in fact right). Louis, thankfully, accuses Harvey of siding with Donna because he doesn’t want her to be mad at him now that they’re together, Donna claims that that’s ridiculous, and Harvey’s anguished expression and refusal to answer immediately validate all of my concerns. And I hope they follow this up in the coming episodes, I truly do, because this is a very real issue that’s been oncoming for a very long time.

Then Faye corners Louis in his car and stops him firing Benjamin and strips him of his status as managing partner, but like…whatever. The promo indicates that he tries to resign, but he’s done that before and we’ve only just started the season, so I don’t know that it’s going to stick.

#suits usa #season 9 #s09e02 #analysis

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