#tw: angst Tumblr posts

  • validity-is-powerful
    13.06.2021 - 57 minutes ago

    I always told you, I do


    Warnings: murder, non-graphic character death

    Characters: Aaron Hotchner, Elle Greenaway

    Relationships: Aaron Hotchner & Elle Greenaway, minor Hotchniss

    Genre: angst

    Summary: Hotch's perspective in the years following Elle Greenaway's departure.

    Word Count: 1k

    Fic below the cut, or read on ao3.


    Elle Greenaway leaving is one of the hardest lessons Aaron Hotchner ever learns. He had failed her, utterly and completely. Her decline was his fault, his mistake, and yet she was the one to pay for it.

    It doesn't sit right with him. He regrets every action that led them up to that night. When she is gone, he rubs his eyes and resolves to do better for the next agent who places their trust in him.


    Emily Prentiss is, once she proves herself to him, a welcome addition. They are closer than he ever thought they would be. When Gideon leaves, she helps hold him together. God, if he still believes such a figure after all he has seen humanity do, he thinks he might love her.

    But love is a dangerous game, and one he refuses to play so soon after his and Haley's divorce. 

    He sees the glimmer of interest in Prentiss' eyes as well, but they both know that this cannot turn out for the better, and so they both allow the sparks to fade. They become all the better friends for it.


    He knows Elle is following them. He sees her, one day, at a crime scene. Elle fails to notice him, but he sees the bitterness and pain in her eyes before she melts away into the crowd. He would follow her, but she made her decision years ago and he had a job to do.

    He doesn't mention her to the team. He doesn't mention her to Prentiss. But he does keep a closer eye out for Elle in the coming months. He finds her at a number of the cases they handle. He isn't always certain it's her, but the pain in her eyes is hard to ignore when he sees her, and over time he grows to know her attire and body language.

    She stops following them after she and Prentiss see each other, though Hotch doesn't know if Prentiss actually saw her. He doesn't question Elle. He knows better and besides, she is long gone by the time the case is done.


    She's there in Boston when Foyet turns out to be the Reaper. She's there in DC when Haley dies. Hotch wonders, through his grief, if she's stalking the team or if she's stalking him. She has every reason to hate him. He destroyed her career, maybe even her life, with a single mistake. She was a lesson where she shouldn't have been.

    He hates himself for it, but he wouldn't be surprised if she hates him even more.


    The Replicator comes and goes without any sign of Elle, and Hotch finds himself thinking of her again as he's seated in a bar by himself, barely touching his drink. She must be out living her life by now, enjoying herself, feeling alive.

    He's sitting here, feeling hollow in his grief, drowning in pain and loss, unable to move in any direction but forwards. He doesn't know how to stop the hourglass of time, and he's watching Jack grow up in front of him while he fails to spend enough time with his son.

    He wonders if Elle has kids. Wherever she is, he hopes she's happy. It's the least she deserves. He'll gladly suffer instead, if it means the woman he failed gets to live a life that's her own. If it means she gets to smile again. He doesn't remember her smiling since she got shot. He hopes she's found cause to again, because he sure as hell didn't give her any.

    "To Elle," he murmurs to himself, lifting his glass. He downs it.


    Mr. Scratch doesn't cause him to see Elle, nor does he mention her. It's a small relief, but Hotch takes it to mean that despite her stalking his team and their cases again, Elle has stayed of Scratch's radar. It's something.

    After, he thinks about calling her. Weighs his phone in his hand. But nine years is a long time to wait just for him to say he's sorry, that he never meant for this to happen, and that he wishes he had done differently then. 

    She doesn't need to hear it. He deletes her number from his phone and goes home to Jack.


    He goes into WITSEC with Jack, and wonders if that's the last he'll ever see of Elle Greenaway. Part of him hopes it is. Her face has haunted him for long enough, and he doubts that his hasn't haunted her. 

    She must hate him, but he hopes she's found a way to move on from losing everything she had ever wanted. He knows what that can do to a person. With this job, how could he not? But Elle has always been strong, and he trusts her now.

    He should have a decade ago. Maybe things would have been different. Maybe he could have saved her, if he'd trusted her and hadn't trusted Anderson. If he'd clarified his orders. If he'd let her stay on that couch in the conference room.

    Sleep is a long time coming that night, and when it arrives, all he sees are moments where he has failed his team. He is a puppeteer pulling their strings. He should guide them towards success, but instead their dance is one of ruin and loss, death and destruction.

    Waking is also a long time coming that night.


    Scratch dies, and Hotch returns, glad to be at last reunited with his team, and to speak to Alvez, and to Rossi, and to hug Prentiss again. She still wears the same perfume. She still feels right in his arms.

    He loves her, he thinks. Maybe he'll tell her one day.

    When Anderson dies, shot execution-style in his own home, point-blank to the face, Hotch knows who it is and he knows he is next. He is paralyzed at the thought of his team, and instead, all he does is send a text to Rossi, asking him to look after Jack if anything happens to Hotch.

    She is already inside his apartment. The door is locked, but he knows. It's a small mercy that his son is at a friend's house right now, having fun.

    Hotch steps inside and goes through the motions of setting down his badge and gun. She steps out as soon as they are out of reach, her own gun aimed at his face.

    "Now you know how I felt," Elle Greenaway tells him, and pulls the trigger.

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  • missorgana
    13.06.2021 - 2 hours ago

    with you, i fall

    characters: thor and loki
    fandom: marvel cinematic universe
    rating: general
    word count: 1282
    summary: Loki lives to be at Thor's side at the battle of Wakanda. Yet, his brother falls. (canon divergent infinity war angst)
    (first episode of loki made me miss the brodinsons™️ 10 times more than i already did so i wrote some emo mess at 3am inspired by this stunning art i came across by @blenderx06 !! hope it’s readable or.. something. yeah)
    read on ao3

    Loki’s seen just about everything Asgard, the universe, and these puny humans have to offer, he’s convinced, but standing amongst  Avengers  wasn’t in his cards, no, not at all.

    He’s fought alongside his brother over and over again, he was prepared to do so from their childhood years. Then he wasn’t. And now he was. He trusted…  trusts  Thor. Hell, he’d always trusted him with his life, even when he was sick of his face and his words and his selfishness and his love that he gave without himself even realising it.

    Thor is so, so stupid. But he follows, why? Because they’re brothers, after all.

    And he’s  good  . But what makes him believe in his brother, rather, might be that Thor believes in him.  Still  believes in him. For some reason. He hasn’t exactly been giving him many reasons to keep that belief, he’ll admit, yet, here Thor is, never wavering.

    That’s what struck Loki on the elevator before they broke into the Grandmaster’s ship and had to fight their genocidal sister- gods, he thought he hated the universe, but that was child’s play compared to her. Good riddance.

    And Thor does not waver on the battlefield.

    He’s worthy,  of course , what else could he expect of him? His annoying perfection and worthiness and optimism, it was quite enough to make his blood boil.

    So was the sight of Thanos, betrayal. Avengers, no trust in him. Who could blame them?

    And Thor had stopped trusting him decades ago- and really, could anyone trust him, failure after failure, betrayal after betrayal? He can’t find it in himself to blame his brother, not really, deep down.

    Then… why  is he here? 

    Why does his brother look at him that way, as if Loki might just be the only thing he has left? He’s an Avenger, that thick-headed doofus. 

    Thor and Loki, maybe they never worked. Maybe only in their adolescent years, before their differences tore them away from each other. It’s too late for them, he’s been thinking. They’re past redemption, past burying the hatchet and licking their wounds.

    Yet, he asks himself those questions when he hears the snap of the titan’s fingers, and a silence settles upon Wakanda. Too quiet, too suspenseful, too… nothing. As if the entire world held their breaths at the same time.

    And so, when they breathe out, collectively, it happens, and the moment that Loki shouldn’t care about, because, well, this was what he was supposed to help Thanos with. Not this, not the endgame, but he couldn’t care less what the titan did before, till now. 

    Somewhere far away, one of those brute Avengers says something, then abruptly goes quiet again.

    This is when the panic of the humans settles in.

    For Loki, it’s rather a haze. At a distance, not close enough to touch him, he’s a God, he shouldn’t  care about these meaningless little lives. 

    That is to say, it would be a lie. He rather feels particularly weak at this moment. Loki wonders, this sensation, as more words broken off into the wind can be heard, if this is what it feels like to be human. 

    He can’t imagine the constant stress - to  care.

    Thor told him, when Loki went against him, their father, a rebellion or rather a fight for the rightful throne, as he called it. Thor told him clearly, “Brother, I love you.”

    And the exasperation, the desperation of his answer of, “You do? You did? Was it ever real?” They were both desperate. Thor has never been anything other than honest to his face, he’s quite aware. 

    And since his brother had too many tears running down his face, visibly struggling to even get one word out, he braced himself, no, he assumed the worst,  “It wasn’t real. I'm not your brother.” 

    Once again, a lie. Loki did it well. He does it well.

    Tragically, that silly thing, caring, it only becomes tangible for himself enough to know, to see, to touch, when the sight of his brother is brought upon his eyes once more. His hand is clutching the titan, comically tiny, alike a human, until it isn’t.

    This can’t be, surely not? Thor, he- he’s crumbling to dust. His hand disappears into a cloud of dust.

    That feeling falls upon Loki as when the Bifrost was broken- loud and explosive and something much akin to pain. This pain, he has rarely felt one as sharp as this one.

    Stinging, burning, sneaking up on him. He, the god of Mischief. What a pathetic joke.

    Thor’s eyes meet his. This is rare, too, eye contact. They usually avoid silly talks of feelings, of acknowledging them, even. Yet another attribute of the Odinson bloodline, of their father. His father. He is like a stranger to him. To his brother, too, he discovered, not long ago.

    Yet, despite the void of feelings, despite the lack of courage to bring them into the open, Loki finds himself doing that very thing -  feeling.

    One long stride is all it takes him to get closer to his brother, and then, he notices, it falls upon him as well, how Thor looks at him the same way he’s looked at him before. Not in doubt, or betrayal, or disappointment.

    In excruciating pain. But shockingly, simultaneously, trust. Utterly loud and clear trust.

    Loki thinks he trusts too easily, that stupid brother of his. Only suitable explanation for him to trust Loki himself, after all.

    Thor’s grabbed onto his arm, as opposed to the titan, whose plan is being followed to perfection. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Thor is a god. They’re gods. This can’t be.

    This cannot be- it can’t.

    Yet it seems real.

    The void of Thor’s hand grows, taking his arm and shoulder with it, fading into nothingness, a black hole. 

    “This isn’t real,” Loki can’t stop the words from leaving his mouth.

    Another shock, because his brother laughs. Not his stupid happy one, a broken sound, of sorts, “You don’t think so?”

    “Brother,” he retaliates, particles of dust rippling off Thor one by one, as if time had slowed down, “This cannot be real.”

    In fact, it seems impossibly slow, this pain, and what’s happening in front of him. His brother even has time to look around at his fellow Avengers, disappearing into thin air. Oh, Loki realises. This pain, it comes with fear.

    “It seems to be, brother,” Thor then says, righteous voice and all. “Seems to be the end.”

    And Loki barely has any words left, in any realm, in any world, in any galaxy. He just feels. But yet his brother continues to crumble, it’s all his senses pick up on.

    “Loki,” Thor’s voice shakes, no way fitting for a god, “Brother. I love you.”

    What an absolutely unforgiving moment. What a forsaken imbecile of a brother he has. How overwhelmingly and stupidly and tragically right he is. He is no imbecile. He is trusting of everything, but most urgently, he is trusting of  him .

    “Thor, what in the world-”

    “Listen to me.”

    A hole is rippling in his brother’s stomach, enlarging. The hand on Loki’s arm becomes lighter, and a speck of dust, a figment of his own brother’s being, wavers through the wind, brushes his cheek. Time seems to suddenly speed up.

    Loki tries to get a grip on him, but he slips through his fingers. Is this some sort of poetic irony, really?

    “I am listening, what is it-”

    “I love you,” Thor repeats. Yet, it somehow seems necessary. It even feels necessary, feels needed. And it only adds more to that stinging pain somewhere in his chest and gut and fingers and throat, “For real.”

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  • validity-is-powerful
    13.06.2021 - 4 hours ago

    it's like I always said you don't need me


    Warnings: murder, non-graphic character death

    Characters: Elle Greenaway, Aaron Hotchner

    Relationships: Elle Greenaway & Aaron Hotchner

    Genre: angst

    Summary: Elle knows what the team has accomplished without her, through the years.

    Word Count: 1k

    Fic under the cut, or read on ao3.


    Elle doesn't regret shooting the rapist. She does regret climbing the ramp to Hotchner's office and resigning, leaving the team she had thought was her future, for good.

    She doesn't leave the team in her heart. She tracks the news and she waits, and moves, and prays as best she's able to a god that's never heard her before. She might say she's found religion since she got shot, but then, why would she ever believe in a deity who let a nine-year-old girl lose her father? Who let her future friend get preyed on at thirteen? Who let the man she hates be abused all his childhood?

    No. She hasn't found religion. But she prays anyway.

    Some days she's in a city where they solve crimes. Some days she follows them, wandering the streets and chasing the cities they walk in, following a dream that ended long ago.

    Once, she sees them directly. She's another face in the crowd, another piece of the scenery. One of them looks up and doesn't even see her, though she stares straight at Elle. She has black hair and bangs, and from the way she stands next to Hotchner, Elle can tell they're close.

    So this is her replacement.

    She melts away into the crowd before any of the others notice her. It hurts. It always hurts, when she follows them, and sees how well they're doing without her while she can't bear to go home some nights, while she's always moving, always running, though from what, exactly, she doesn't know. The memories, she supposes. The fear that one day, she'll come home and she'll be shot again, and like last time, no one will come for her.

    Hotchner sent her home. Some days, she wonders if he set her up. If he wanted her to fail. If he did, he got his wish. He and the Phisher King broke her, and now she wanders the streets, searching for a cure that doesn't exist, seeking to destroy memories she'd rather not hold.

    Nothing helps.

    She stops following the team after that case.


    The next time she hears about the BAU is when she's living in Boston, seeking some quiet in the cold air and the bustle of a city she doesn't know.

    The Reaper. She's heard of him, and she tracks the case. Tracks her old team. Her hair is longer and she's not sure they could recognise her after the two years it's been, but she wears a baseball cap nonetheless, and pulls it low when she approaches the team.

    She follows the news. She knows what happens when George Foyet escapes. She melts away again, moving out of Boston. It's been a little under six months since she moved there, but she already knows she can't stay.

    The team is like a drug. She hates them, but their pull is inescapable. She knows when Haley dies, and a tiny, spiteful part of her is glad at the pain Aaron Hotchner, the man who ruined her life, is feeling.

    She leaves DC again after that. She isn't as afraid of that spiteful part as she should be.


    When Elle catches word of someone else stalking the BAU, she laughs. Perhaps if she had simply done something more noticeable, like murder, she'd at least be remembered. She doesn't even get that much.

    Hotchner, too, probably doesn't even remember her name. She wonders if he even cares what he did to her. He and Anderson have ruined her. Had sent her and then left her home alone, vulnerable.

    She hates them both, but she hates Hotchner more.

    How long had she been working towards getting into the BAU? How desperately had she tried to prove herself? She'd had to work her ass off in ways he never would, just because she was a woman.

    Then he'd made a mistake, and she had paid for it, and here they were, on opposite sides of the country, her in a bar in Oregon and him in DC, no doubt with his team or his son, feeling awful but alive.

    She didn't get either. She could have died, but it's more that she did. She doesn't know who she is anymore. She's just... hollow. Elle Greenaway died the night she turned in her badge and gun. She doesn't know who she is now, other than another lonely voice howling unfairness into the wind, another woman sitting in a bar alone, another soul waiting for a purpose.


    She doesn't hear anything more about Hotchner after a decade since she left. He vanishes. She still follows the team, sometimes, the Replicator having spurred her interest again.

    She wonders if he's dead. The victory feels so hollow. She's put down roots, named herself Jocelyn Bareau, found a girlfriend who puts up with her sadness and whims to travel, to see the team as she visits town after town where they go.

    Jocelyn dies when she learns Hotchner is back and has left WITSEC. She bides her girlfriend adieu, tells her not to wait up, and flies back to DC as Elle.


    Anderson dies first. She wastes no time going about it. He got what was coming, as she sees it. He should have stayed. Maybe then she wouldn't have been shot. Maybe then her blood wouldn't have been painted on her door by fingers that dug into her wound to collect from the source.

    Even now, the memories haunt her. She's never been good at letting go, and DC unlocks ghosts she thought she was free of.

    She breaks into Hotchner's apartment quietly, grateful that the boy is gone. He was a toddler when last she saw him. Now, she hears, he is a teenager.

    So much has changed.

    She was once the best and brightest the Bureau had to offer of its upcoming agents. She was once a proud member of the team, the team that has forgotten her.

    The world still won't know her name after today. That's alright. They don't need to. Only one man does, and he will. Hers will be the last face he ever sees.

    Aaron Hotchner enters his home, and she greets him with a gun to the face after he has set his own weapon down.

    "Now you know how I felt," she says softly, and fires.

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  • xxvernalagniaxx
    13.06.2021 - 4 hours ago
    #alcohol tw#alcoholism tw#rp#ic #this feels like angst
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  • madeofstardust17
    13.06.2021 - 4 hours ago

    You know what breaks me? When characters die scared. Like it's totally a different kind of heartbreaking when they die with a small smile, reassuring their loved ones it's okay, but when they're crying? Begging to their loved ones bc they're terrified of dying????? Bitch that breaks me into a puddle of tears and grief.

    #angst#tw: death #yes i am once again talking about teen wolf #that show is so shitty and i love it so much #writing
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  • aftgficrec
    13.06.2021 - 4 hours ago
    #fic #Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard #Matt Boyd/Dan Wids #Robin Cross & Neil Josten #universe: post canon #theme: angst #theme: fluff & angst #theme: angst with a happy ending #theme: mental health issues #theme: emotional hurt/comfort #theme: crying #theme: foxes react #the foxes #theme: nonsexual intimacy #theme: cuddling#theme: hugging #theme: forehead kisses #theme: babysitting#tw: depression #tw: panic attacks #tw: dissociation #tw: suicidal thoughts #tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon #tw: implied/referenced abuse
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  • random-littledoodles
    13.06.2021 - 5 hours ago

    I finished the a lot quicker than I thought I would!

    have some more ghost!Vladimir, but this time in his uniform.

    #tw scars#tw ghosts #I like the way this came out despite it being pretty messy #please reblog my work! #my artwrok#vladimir#my characters#clothing design#angst
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  • random-littledoodles
    13.06.2021 - 6 hours ago


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  • a-lil-perspective
    13.06.2021 - 6 hours ago

    The Bad Batch and Swimming

    Been doing a lot of swimming/water therapy lately and I’m thinking about the boys swimming.

    Hunter and Tech are the best swimmers, hands down. Both self-taught, out of necessity, not necessarily as a hobby, though both do enjoy it immensely. They’ve grown up surrounded by water. I think Tech and Hunter’s swimming abilities are viewed largely as just another asset, a skill they possess, something that can be of benefit to their squad.

    Hunter: Hunter very much enjoys swimming and the idea of water therapy in particular is relaxing to him. It’s easy for him to get carried away—literally, as he’ll end up staying in the water for hours. I think he’d resign himself to just pools, though. Depth doesn’t matter. I just don’t think he likes open bodies of water. I think the vastness overwhelms him, makes him nervous. Hunter either channels his Olympic swimmer or gets his ass stuck in an inner tube; there is no in-between. Also, Hunter is the master of floating on his back and he looks quite adorable when he does. One account of water in his ears though and it’s all over for poor Sarge.

    Tech: When Tech is graced with the opportunity for a leisure swim, this man is fully submerged, snorkeling his heart out. Swimming is not a sport to Tech. He is there to explore depths great and wide. He also has an incredible set of lungs, and can hold his breath a really long time. Any modality of swimming, Tech can do. He’s very educated on the forms and functionalities of each. Even though Tech is a magnificent swimmer, he secretly loves floaties. Do not deny him the ability to be buoyant. Also, he developed the best pair of swim goggles you’ll ever see. And uhm. Tech x Speedos.

    Wrecker: Wrecker had a bit of an issue with the concept of buoyancy; it took a long time to convince him that his weight and density would not send him straight to the bottom where he couldn’t surface again. It was kind of an irrational fear of his for awhile. But once he overcame that fear and learned that he wholly controls his ability to stay afloat, Wrecker is there to have a great time and this man knows how to have fun in the water. Pool toys galore. Floaties. Deflating them because he’s so big. Comparing Crosshair to pool noodles and smacking him around with them when he stands around with a stick up his ass.

    Crosshair: Surprise surprise, stick-bug man cannot swim. He has a rocky relationship with water; in fact he hates being wet, with showers being the only exception. The concept of swimming is awkward to him; flailing about, being jostled by waves, wet clothes clinging to your frame, shivering afterwards, no thank you. But he gets his fun in. Note: you do not want to be on the receiving end of Crosshair’s water gun vendetta. His aim is scary all the way around. Crosshair may not step foot in the water but will 100% stand on the sidelines and pelt his brothers to oblivion. Also, he does not trust floating beds one bit. He can’t float for shit and anytime he tries to use one he gets freaking capsized by Wrecker.

    Echo: Okay so Echo can swim just fine. Could swim just fine. Prosthetics kind of changed that. Where Echo was once fearless in the waves he now has terrible anxiety over it. He only has one good swimming arm. His prosthetics are heavy and cumbersome, and off-set his stamina terribly. He knows, deep down, if he got caught up in rough waters… it wouldn’t end well for him. He’s just a machine. Machines don’t function in these elements. It sends him on the brink of panic to think about, but you would never know just by looking at him, looking on fondly at the others enjoying their swim. Longing to join them. Crosshair gives him a look, not sympathetic, but something gentle and refined the sniper seems to only gauge towards him. He gives him a pat on the back. They’ll watch from the sidelines, enjoying a lemonade that’s probably spiked with something, to take the edge off. Echo and Crosshair may not be swimmers, but that doesn’t stop them from being certified sun bathers. And no, they don’t wear an ounce of sunblock. Team melanin all the way.

    Omega: Mega! Despite living on Kamino her entire life, baby sincerely can’t swim. At all. This is only learnt sometime after she joins the Bad Batch. After a near-drowning incident, Hunter and Tech kick into high gear and make it their top priority to teach her all the nuances of swimming; how to paddle, how to breathe, how to float, and pace herself. It’s a survival skill and she needs to know. Wrecker makes the swimming lessons fun and not so grueling; he brings Lula to cheer her on from the sidelines (of course everyone has to be super careful not to get her wet), and equips her with arm floaties for extra security. When she gets tired, Wrecker becomes a human submarine and swims underneath and lets her rest on his back. XD Later on when she gets really good, Wrecker calls her the ‘Megalodon’. XD

    Until then; Echo thinks a lot about Omega’s inability to swim. Sure, Crosshair can’t exactly swim either, but he’s not hindered in his ability to. He has all of his physical faculties. He’s not dead weight. A liability. Meanwhile Omega is a child. While she’s not physically hindered either, she’s little, her lungs are small, her body undeveloped, and until she builds her strength, she’s just as vulnerable in the water as Echo. Echo thinks, if watery circumstances ever developed and they were in a bind, Omega would be the one who’d have to be saved. Not Echo. When it comes down to it, Echo will beg for the others to save Omega, and leave him.

    The others have to profusely assure him that’s never gonna happen.

    #I’m sorry this got sad? #tw swimming#tw water#tw angst #just in case #star wars #the bad batch #bad batch #clone force 99 #bad batch headcanons #sergeant hunter#wrecker #wrecker bad batch #tech #tech bad batch #crosshair #crosshair bad batch #echo #echo bad batch #omega #omega bad batch #baby bad batch #meg #meg bad batch #it’s a lil thing #swimming #bad batch and swimming
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  • whatafuckingdumbass
    13.06.2021 - 7 hours ago

    Trying To Balance With A Part Of Yourself Missing

    Summary: Thor bargains with Odin on Loki's sentence, and he wins. Loki is moved with the Avengers to fix his past mistakes. But Odin's term changes everything, and Loki's foe is not their mistakes, but their self-image.

    Warnings: This work will have a lot of dark topics and each chapter will have individual warnings.

    Chapter 8; The Safehouse

    Chapter Warnings: misgendering, language, questioning, Odin's a+ parenting, vague mentions of abuse, vague mentions of self harm, mention of smoking.

    Chapter Summary: Natasha finds Loki, seeing the fuckups of Steve Rogers, and volunteers to clean up the mess

    Chapter Notes: When Loki speaks with bold, they talk in English, when Natasha does this, she speaks in Old Norse. This chapter was particularly hard to write, and it's a little softer than the others.

    First | Previous | AO3 | Next

    Natasha storms out, and heads towards the closest alley. A few turns, and she starts seeing footprints of ice. She follows them.

    Not so shortly after, she spots Loki. He's sitting against a wall, his body locked together in the tightest position and head hidden in his knees. She kneels closer, but leaves plenty of space.

    "Loki? It's me, Natasha," she whispers, using the little Old Norse she managed to learn until now (she cannot teach him English if she doesn't know Loki's mother tongue).

    Loki answers with one word, low and hoarse. Natasha doesn't need to know the language to guess, but she takes her phone out and activates Friday's translation.

    "No one sent me and no one knows I am here. Steve did you dirty, it was messy and explosive. Thor is fine from the frostbites, healed fast and held no hard feelings. And I had no issue with the fucking song, I swear I didn't. Steve is just… the week of the attack was hard for him and seeing you again fucked him up, but it doesn't justify this," she explains, Friday translating everything, and recording. Always recording, always keeping track. And always informing Tony and Steve.

    "Pl-pl-pl-please, leave," Loki whispers with pain in his voice, refusing to raise his head.

    Natasha closes her phone, the only piece of Stark technology in her and the only tracking device. "Loki, I have a place, a safehouse, do you want to come?" She offers. Loki delays a little before nodding a yes. He raises his head, gazing at Natasha, tears still threatening to spill. She gives him a small squeeze on his hand, covered by a sleeve.

    She didn't expect Loki to drag her into a hug, his nose shoved in her throat and cold, unsteady breaths smashing her skin. She hugs back, tracing patterns in his back and waiting until his breaths even down, and he draws back from the embrace.

    Loki's lips are still shaking, his cheeks are still damp and his eyes watery and violet. She takes a deep breath and places her hand on his cheekbone. He's cold, but not freezing her. She caresses her thumb on his cheek, trying to ease him down. He lets out a shaky breath and closes his eyes, leaning against her hand.

    "Th-th-th-thank you," he whispers, taking a deep breath in and out before letting go of Natasha. She rises in her feet, lending a hand to help Loki follow. He didn't accept it, but still almost jumped up.


    Loki knows that Romanov is a spy and was trained to be subtle and able to hide in plain sight. But they didn't expect her to be able to smuggle a Frost Giant around New York to an apartment. It's small and simple, probably abandoned for some time, and so blissfully dark. Romanov settles on a couch, inviting Loki there with a pat of her hand.

    "We have to talk," she announces, still speaking Old Norse with a broken accent, similar to Wanda's.

    "We-we-we do," they agree and join her on the couch, turning to gaze at her form.

    "I have to tell the Avengers. Or, no Friday," she changes the language, back to her cold English. Loki nods.

    "Not c-c-c-coming ba-ba-back, now," they argue, to which she just hums. Then, she opens her phone again and puts it on her ear.

    Loki can hear Stark screaming at her, probably demanding an explanation. Romanov answers plainly, still calm, and mentions Loki's name as well. It doesn't calm Stark, until she continued with her point and stops the call, Stark still yelling.

    She presses the screen, and Friday says something.

    "Tony didn't take it well, but we will go back when you say so. Do you want now or talk about this tomorrow?" she asks, actually asks. Loki takes a moment to think.

    "To-to-to-tomorrow, please," they whisper again, like she'll kill them if they don't say what she wants. But, she just gives away a tiny smile and nods, offering to show the rooms. Loki agrees, and after all this had made their appetite disappear, they only just wanted to go sleep. If they are lucky, they will just fall into nothingness for a few hours. But, blinking away the next hours or jumping from one nightmare to another is not unwelcome any more.

    But, what was it with Romanov’s hand? Why was it so… welcome? They’re definitely not attracted, but, if she did it again, it would be fine? And, when was the last time someone did this to them?

    It must have been Mother, a few decades ago, after finding Loki in the mess they were after another fight with Odin, frighteningly close to slipping to these bad habits again. It’s almost funny, how Loki thought Odin’s wrath is the most dangerous thing.

    Though, first the libido, and now the hand… Loki could swear they don’t desire these. Yet, they long for both in the same evening… What if they were faking this? This repulse towards love? What if they are so broken they need others to fix them, and their mind manifests love to draw them closer? It’s probably the latter. A lie and an impostor of emotions. Better be locked up, with the rest.

    But the lock is breaking, and Loki doesn’t know how long it will hold


    They feel Romanov’s hand again, this time pushing their shoulder while calling their name. They whine, asking for ten more minutes, but she doesn’t leave. Until she does leave them alone for ten minutes.

    Then, she returns, letting something on the night stand. Loki recognizes the smell of tea immediately, like a shark smelling blood. They sit up and take the cup in their hands, taking a nice long sip before thanking Romanov.

    After the tea starts waking them up, they realize they wear a shirt, without the chest plate. They try to somehow hold back the tits, but to no avail.

    “It’s fine, pretty much everyone knows you’re trans at this point,” she brushes off, sitting on the bed, uninvited. Loki raises an eyebrow, not knowing which of all things should make them defensive

    Okay, they haven’t been closeted without magic for eons, being obvious is not surprising. But, why trans? They’re not going from feminity to masculinity, they just go wherever they go. They’re not even masculine now! But, maybe small steps are the best option.

    “Not tr-tr-tr-trans,” Loki corrects. “I am not-not a w-w-w-woman, now, but-but I am not go-going steadily fr-fr-from one gender to a-a-a-another. My ge-gender is not st-stable,” they explain. Natasha raises an eyebrow and sits in a lotus position on Loki’s bed, her shoes still on. Loki glares for a long moment before she takes them off.

    “We call this genderfluid. So, what is it now?” she asks, casually. Not even Thor was this calm when talking about this.

    “No-nothing,” they shrug, not adding the pronouns. It doesn’t matter, they and þau feel the same any ways. Natasha nods, now jumping off the bed and in her feet.

    “Okay, now eat up your breakfast, I want you nice and full for the lessons,” she claps her hands and leaves Loki alone to eat. When Loki is done, the sting from the period and pain in the ribs is enough of an argument against using the plate, and they don’t feel uncomfortable being like this around Natasha.


    This same evening, they return to the tower. They had to take a stop at nearly any pharmacist in the area, but it’s not Loki’s fault that their back will not allow them to support their weight and that all the canes are for old people. And even after they found a cane, Natasha added yet another stop, she claimed it’s for cigarettes. She refuses to let the smoke go near Loki, no matter how they say that it isn’t unpleasant.


    taglist: @lucywrites02 @electroma89 @the-emo-asgardian @rorybutnotgilmore @hybrid-in-progress @weirdfangirl2416 @darkacademicfrom2021 @nicoistrying @twhiddlestonsstuff @lennylovebot @thewindandthewolves

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  • chaotic-persons-writings
    13.06.2021 - 8 hours ago

    Our Final Goodbyes

    Notes: This was written about 4 months ago when I was going through a small Dark Academia phase and was listening to Ivoryyy's (YT) playlist Our Final Goodbyes. The link is down so please check them out! Also if you saw this before in the comment section no you didn't.


    Also no TWs I think? I mean unless you count Heterosexuality as one.


    "So, you are leaving tonight?"

    She asked even though she already knew the answer. Her heart ached as the words got out. She has always known this day would come. The day that her love would leave her. It wasn't as if she was a princess he could marry, after all. She was just a girl that worked at the library. Nothing more, nothing less.

    But that hadn't stopped her from hoping. Hoping that he would stay with her. Maybe run away with her, be a normal boy in the city. Or maybe trying to take her as his wife, like those princes in the books she read. But this was no story, and he was not stupid enough for that. So she resigned herself for heartbreak, knowing that every minute was precious.

    Her prince shyly looked up from the ground he was staring to look her in the eye. He flushed a bit as their eyes met and looked down again. Then he slumped his shoulders and spoke sadly:

    "Yes, I will my love. I have tried everything to make my parents listen but we will go back, whether I like it or not. Are you angry at me?"

    She smiled a bit at his adorableness and replied.

    "No, my dear. Why would I be angry with you? We both knew this day would come, sooner or later. If anything, you should be angry with me. Not the opposite."

    At that, his dark eyes snapped at her in shock and he asked confused.

    "How could I be angry with you? You have given me the best months of my entire life. You made me experience pure love, something I would have never dreamed of feeling had it not been for you.", He looked back at the castle that the music was coming from, "I have just expected to be married off to a wealthy princess, when I first came here. Not find the love of my life, and especially not her chewing me out because I made her drop her books."

    They both chuckled at the memory that seemed far away now. It had been an interesting meeting, that one.

    "And I didn't expect the visiting prince to make me fall for him the moment we met! Can you imagine? Then the idiot tried to help me up, only to fall on me because he stepped on my books!"

    He looked at her and shouted amusedly:

    "Hey! I'm not an idiot! If anything, you were the idiot for swearing at a prince in a hall where people were going around! You almost gave your mother a heart attack!"

    She raised an eyebrow and smiled at him,

    "Oh, yes, I remember that. But I also remember a little prince blushing and stammering out apologies for 5 minutes before he even tried to get up! Then apologising for another 5 minutes and not helping me collect my books at all! What do you have say for that, love?"

    She batted her eyelashes at him as he pointedly looked away while starting to blush up to his ears.

    "Well, I was embarrassed. It was the first time a girl ever spoke to me outside the balls, not counting my relatives and Mother. And she was scolding me! It was really embarrassing!"

    They laughed. When they stopped they looked at each other and smiled softly. They loved each other, that was a given. It could be seen clearly in the way they spoke and the way they acted around eachother.

    Slowly, like they had all the time in the world, their lips connected in a sweet kiss. A kiss made of pure and inconvenient love. A kiss that was never meant to be, but was there anyways. After a while, they slowly broke their kiss and looked at the other in the eyes.

    One of her hands came to cup his face in her hands and he pressed his face into it. She wanted to remember this forever; this night, his voice, his lips, his face. She wanted to remember him forever.  Him; her love, her prince, her darling. But he was never hers to keep, so she softly put her hand down and hugged him close.

    They hugged in the night, knowing that this was it. That this was the end. The end of them as they whispered their final goodbyes.

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  • fangirlwriting-stories
    13.06.2021 - 10 hours ago

    Reflecting Light

    Summary: As far as Remus knows, the situation with Shane is totally normal.  Sure, it sucks, and he would love to not have to deal with getting beaten and scrutinized as often as he does, but that's just the way things are.  There's no other way around it.  Which admittedly might create some problems when he gets fed up enough to run away.  (Trigger warning for abuse.)

    Chapter One:

    Even at seven years old Remus was well aware that people like his brother more than him.

    Part of it was the looks.  Roman had never chipped his teeth or gotten cuts on his face or grinned in a way that was just a little bit creepy (even though that was the fun part).  Part of it was also probably personality.  Roman was friendly and agreeable in ways that Remus wasn’t.  Roman never got looks that amounted to “when are you going to leave?”  Roman also never had to see Shane.

    Shane had told him many times that people liked Roman more than he did, but he seemed to have different reasons than the ones Remus had come up with.  According to him, Roman would make a far better soldier because he knew how to shut up and do what he was told in a way that Remus had never been able to comprehend.  And this was just what happened to kids who didn’t do what they were told.  That was Shane’s job, after all.  He got a high rank for it too.  According to him The Light have really cared about crushing dissension.  But that didn’t change the fact that Remus probably would have been more willing to listen to his reasoning about Roman if the bruise on his face wasn’t screaming it’s protest.

    But he was right about the fact that far more people liked Roman than him.  Remus was mostly okay with that, because there were three people he was pretty sure liked him well enough.  One was Roman himself, and the other two were their new and closest friends, Patton and Logan.  Patton and he didn’t always get along perfectly, since he didn’t love the way Remus always roped him into plans to steal food from the kitchen; but he never got the impression that Patton liked Roman more than him.  And Logan was fun to talk to about weird stuff.  Remus could tell him about the rotting carcass he found outside, and while Patton and Roman would both be grossed out, Logan would ask him all sorts of questions as to what he thought the animal was, what it looked like, how decomposed it was at that point.

    And then of course, Roman.  Even if Roman had loved himself more than Remus (which frankly wouldn’t surprise him, given the size of his ego), Remus would have loved him anyway, because he was Roman.  And Remus had to protect him.  There was nothing saying Shane wasn’t just as likely to hurt Roman if he fucked up.  Remus couldn’t let that happen.

    Which is why he was pretty sure this was a bad idea.

    Remus followed Logan and Patton out the door and onto the roof, pulling Roman behind him and not letting go of his hand.  Stealing food from the kitchen was one thing, but sneaking out at night?  Remus took a deep breath.  He wasn’t going to look like a coward and voice concerns about getting caught.  That was Patton’s job.  Besides, he could always say it was his idea.  That had convinced Shane to leave his brother alone in the past.

    And Logan was right.  Shooting stars looked really cool.

    “Look, look!” Logan cried, far more excitement in his voice than usual.  “That’s Aries!”

    “I thought we were out here to look at shooting stars,” Patton said, sitting down next to where Logan had plopped himself down on the roof.

    “We are, but I just learned how to find that constellation!” Logan called happily.  Logan had found a contraband book on astronomy recently and had not stopped studying since.  He’d begun to teach the rest of them too.  Remus was finding it interesting enough that he kept listening.

    “Alright.”  Logan pulled that contraband book out of his jacket and set it open on the ground in front of them.  “So shooting stars aren’t actually stars at all.”

    “What?” Roman asked around a yawn.  “Why’re they called shootin’ stars then?”

    “Because that’s what they look like!  But actually, they’re chunks of rocks burning up in the atmosphere!”

    Remus’ eyes widened and he leaned over Logan’s shoulder.  “They’re on fire?”

    “They are!” Logan called, beaming at him.  “They almost always burn up before they even hit the ground, but the burning is what lets us see them!”

    “That’s awesome,” Remus said, looking up at the chunks of burning rock falling through the sky.  “What happens if they don’t burn up?”

    “Uh… I don’t know.  I haven’t gotten to that part in the book yet,” Logan said, looking down at the textbook in his lap.  “I think it makes some kind of crater.”

    “Tell me when you get there!” Remus said, leaning against Logan’s side and looking down at the book too.

    “Will do,” Logan said, smiling over at him.  Remus grinned back and they both looked up at the stars above the four of them.  Patton was watching, but he still looked exhausted, and Roman lasted another second before he leaned against Remus’ shoulder and fell asleep.  But Remus and Logan would be up for many hours yet.

    Remus, after the discovery that astronomy included things like burning rocks flying through the sky and explosions out in space, joined Logan far more often for stargazing and sessions to read his book.  That was good for a long while, long enough that Remus could now name all the constellations and was able to use the stars to navigate if he had to.  Roman and Patton joined them on quite a few stargazing sessions as well, but they often fell asleep in the way that Logan and Remus never did.

    By the time Remus turned 11 it had been several years since the two had needed the book, but that didn’t mean that Remus didn’t remember what it looked like, and he recognized it instantly when Shane dropped it on the table in front of him.

    Remus had weekly meetings with Shane, bi-weekly if he happened to seriously fuck up that week in some way.  He hadn’t thought the book would be coming up in tonight’s meeting.  He looked at it for a second and decided that it was safest to not say anything just yet.

    “This was found in Logan’s room,” Shane said.  “Do you recognize it?”

    Remus wasn’t sure why he was being asked this question instead of Logan, but he wasn’t going to complain.  If there was a way to get Logan out of this safely, he would take it.  He nodded.

    “So you’ve been studying contraband books,” Shane said, his voice dropped to a dangerous low.  Remus squeezed his hands together under the table.  He wished Shane would sit down.  It wasn’t usually a good sign when Remus was sitting and he was standing.

    “It was my idea,” Remus said.

    Shane raised his hand, and Remus had a second to brace himself before he was smacked across the cheek.  He held back a wince.  Those never put Shane in a better mood.

    “Do you think I care whose idea it was?” Shane asked.  “Logan would at least have an excuse.  He’s going to be a strategist.  He needs to know how to plot locations, and stars are a helpful tool for that.  You are a soldier.  Strong.  Silent.  Replaceable.  You don’t need to think.  Understand?”

    Remus looked down at the table and nodded.  Oh, he’d forgotten about the way he’d folded in so many of those pages.  It had driven Logan crazy.  He’d complained that Remus was going to ruin the only book they had.  But the book looked almost fine today, so Logan was obviously wrong about that one.

    “I don’t want to hear about anything like this again,” Shane said, picking up the book and setting it down in his bag.  “Get out of here before I decide you deserve worse.”

    Remus climbed up from the chair and walked over to the door, thoughts buzzing through his head.  He shut the door after him.  He wasn’t sure why Shane talked to him if the book was found in Logan’s room.  Wouldn’t that kind of automatically make it Logan's fault?

    Remus shook himself slightly.  He shouldn’t be complaining about getting a chance to take the fall for Logan.  He would much rather it be his fault than Logan’s.  But didn’t mean the fact that he was the only one yelled at didn’t still rub him the wrong way.  Remus would blame that for his next decision of heading straight for Logan’s room and shaking him awake.

    “Who’s there?” Logan asked, reaching for his glasses on his bedside table.

    “It’s me,” Remus said, picking them up and handing them over to Logan.  “You wanna go stargazing?”

    Patton and Remus didn’t have a ton in common, but Remus found some fascinating things to learn in the fact that Patton was training to be a doctor, so he got to look at super gross injuries all the time.  Remus would tag along sometimes to see how to treat a broken bone, or a nasty stab wound, or a concussion.

    Sometimes Patton treated him when Shane was a little too rough.  He felt like a safer person to go to than any of the actual doctors.  Remus was pretty sure Patton just thought he was clumsy.  He wasn’t expecting that to change, like it ended up doing one night when they were both fourteen.

    It had been a bad night.  Remus wasn’t sure he could make it until morning without some kind of medical care or he’d be up all night in pain and unable to sleep.  He made his way to Patton’s room and knocked on the door before walking in.

    Patton was rubbing his eyes and sitting up in bed as Remus made his way over to sit down.

    “Hey, it’s me,” Remus said, as Patton grabbed his glasses and put them on.  “Can you—”

    “Oh my goodness, Remus!  You look terrible, what happened?”

    “I fell down the stairs,” Remus lied.  “I think my nose is broken.”

    “Oh no,” Patton said, throwing the covers back and taking Remus gently by the arm, pulling them both out of his room and towards the medbay.  Remus winced and decided not to tell Patton he was holding the area where he was pretty sure a bruise was already forming.

    They had this kind of thing down to a science at this point.  Patton grabbed the bruise cream and bandages, wrapping the cuts that Remus had and putting the cream on the areas Remus pointed him to.

    “There’s not much I can do for your nose,” Patton said.  “It’s not broken in any way I need to adjust, so you’re just going to have to not touch it and wait for it to heal.”

    “Yeah, okay,” Remus said, knowing very well that Shane would not be holding up that idea.


    Remus glanced up.

    “This is far too many injuries for you to have gotten from falling down the stairs.”

    Remus bit his lip.  “It was the big stairs.  The ones on the third floor.”

    “Remus,” Patton whispered.  “Did someone do this to you?”

    Remus didn’t say anything.

    “Who?” Patton said, and Remus had to do a double take at the sudden amount of anger in his voice.  “Remus, who did this?”

    “I’m sorry,” Remus said on instinct.

    “It’s not— Remus, it’s not your fault,” Patton whispered, sounding two steps away from horrified.

    “But I was the one who messed up in training,” Remus protested, looking down at his bandaged hands.  “And James got hurt.  So now— now I know what he felt like.”

    Patton was silent for a few seconds too long, and Remus was about to look up again when Patton took his face in his hands and raised it for him.

    “Remus, who did this to you?” he said, and the anger on his face took Remus’ breath away.  He whispered Shane’s name and realized a second after that he definitely shouldn’t have done that.

    “Please don’t tell anyone,” he said suddenly, pulling Patton’s hands down from his face and clutching them desperately.  “Patton, please.”

    “Remus, you— I can’t let this keep happening,” Patton said.  “I can’t see you like this and do nothing.”

    “Sure you can!  I do nothing about this all the time!  It’s easy!”

    “Remus, no,” Patton said, shaking his head.  “I can’t.”


    “Hey, it’s gonna be alright,” Patton said, reaching out and pulling Remus into a hug.  “I promise, okay?”

    Remus shook his head, bumping it into Patton’s.  “But—”

    “It’s okay.  It’s gonna be alright, okay?”

    Remus didn’t say anything else.  He clearly wasn’t going to change Patton’s mind on this.  Patton ended up checking him over one last time and then they both went back to bed, Remus with a very uncomfortable feeling in his stomach.  He should have just gone to bed and sucked it up until the next morning.  It would have been fine.  Dammit, he was such a wimp.

    Remus didn’t have any idea how much he’d fucked up until Shane found him the next morning.  He grabbed Remus by the arm with no warning, and dragged him back away from the direction he’d been heading in while Remus tried not to whimper from the pain.  Shane had to have known that was a bad spot to grab.

    When Shane finally stopped they were outside the meeting room.  He yanked the door open and threw Remus inside.  Remus thankfully landed before his head reached the table leg, but that didn’t mean his still-sore body wasn’t screaming what the fuck are you doing at him.

    “Remus!” called a familiar voice, and that is when Remus realized exactly why he was here.

    He pulled his head off the floor half a second before Shane grabbed him by the hair and yanked him up the rest of the way.

    Remus yelped and reached up on instinct.  Shane slammed his head down on the table and Remus barely managed to stop the cry that escaped.

    “Stop!  Stop it!” Patton exclaimed, and Remus heard his footsteps running over towards the table.  He managed to move his head to look over when Shane shifted to look in the same direction.

    Shane snapped his fingers, and a guard grabbed Patton and held him back.

    “Now, Remus,” Shane said, getting much closer to Remus’ face.  “Would you like to explain to me why Patton told a supervisor that I am hurting you?”

    “You—” Patton started.

    Shane lifted up and slammed Remus’ head down again, glaring towards Patton the whole time, and Patton whimpered and stopped talking.

    “Well, Remus?” Shane asked.

    “I— I needed help,” Remus wheezed.  “After last night, so I asked him to help me and he guessed that—”

    Shane reached forward and pressed hard on Remus’ nose.  Remus screamed and tried to get out from under Shane’s hand, but he couldn’t get anywhere, and Shane just waited until he stopped moving again to remove his hand from his nose.

    Yeah, Patton was definitely crying in the background now.

    “You have known for years that you’re not allowed to tell anyone,” Shane said.  “And you told him that I was hurting you, as if everything I’ve done has not been to help you improve.”

    “I— I didn’t—” Remus said weakly, and cut himself off when he realized he was being an idiot.  A second too late, though, because Shane now moved forward slightly and slammed his free elbow into Remus’ nose.

    Remus shrieked, and though Shane finally let go of his head, he couldn’t find it in him to do much other than curl his hands around his head and wait for the pain to stop.

    “This is what is going to happen if you tell anyone again,” Shane said.  “Do you understand?”

    Remus nodded, whimpering out an apology, although he wasn’t sure if Shane was talking to him or Patton.

    “Good.  Somehow it seems you can do that right,” Shane said, stepping back from Remus.  Remus waited until he heard two sets of footsteps retreating and a door closing to move.

    He’d barely managed to lift his head when Patton was in front of him, still crying, and gently started looking over Remus’ head while whispering apologies over and over.

    “Patton, I’m fine,” Remus said.  “It’s okay, you don’t need to—”

    “Yes I do,” Patton said weakly, looking at the spot where Remus’ head had been slammed against the table multiple times.  He sniffed and wiped at the tears coming from his eyes with his free hand.

    “You’re— you’re gonna have a bump there,” Patton whispered.  “But I don’t think you have a concussion.  I— I have to realign your nose.”

    Remus nodded, trying to show he wasn’t mad.  “Okay.”

    Patton started to reach for his nose, then stopped halfway and buried his head in his hands.

    “It’s okay,” Remus said instantly.

    “I’m so sorry,” Patton sobbed, moving to wrap his arms around Remus.  “I was— I was trying to help I thought— I thought—”

    “It’s okay,” Remus said again.  “Patton, it’s okay.  I’m used to it.”

    That was apparently the wrong thing to say, because Patton just started crying even harder.  It was another minute or so before Patton finally pulled back, still crying but looking back at Remus’ nose again.  “This is going to hurt,” he whispered.

    Remus nodded.

    Patton snapped something back into place and Remus screamed through his teeth but managed not to move in case Patton wasn’t done.

    “Don’t— don’t touch it okay?” Patton whispered.  “And try not to let Shane touch it.  Just until it heals.”

    Remus mumbled some kind of affirmation, and Patton dropped his hands to his sides, then lifted one up to wipe his tears again.

    Remus wasn’t sure quite what to say.  After a moment he just turned back to Patton.  “Let’s go eat breakfast.”

    Patton nodded, wiped his eyes one more time, and they both headed out of the room and towards the cafeteria.  Patton managed to stop crying on the way there, and he stopped in a bathroom on the way to the cafeteria to wipe his face better.  Remus waited outside and they headed in together.

    Roman and Logan were already in the middle of one of their many debates by the time the two of them walked up to the table.

    Roman noticed them first, being opposite Logan who had their back to them, and glanced up with a smile.  “Oh hey, what’s going— oh holy shit Remus what happened to you?!”

    Remus wasn’t sure what to say anymore, as there were too many things Roman could be talking about.  “I, uh…”  He sat down next to Logan as he tried to come up with an answer.

    “He’s fine,” Patton said, moving over to sit next to Roman.  “I just helped patch him up a little bit ago.  He fell down the stairs.”

    Patton became Remus’ go-to person for help if he needed it after his meetings with Shane.  Shane never seemed to say anything about it, though he’d threatened Patton a couple times about what would happen if he told anyone.

    Patton had promised he wouldn’t, though, and Shane seemed to believe him when Roman or Logan went on knowing nothing about what was happening.  Overtime, the lying seemed to get easier for Patton, in exactly the way it started to get harder for Remus.

    He’d never felt like he was lying when no one else knew.  It was easy to give his excuses when he had to convince three people, in a way that it suddenly wasn’t when he felt like he was conspiring with Patton.

    The other side of it was that Patton genuinely made things easier.  He helped Remus when he was hurt badly enough, and after a while Shane seemed to approve of the way Patton wasn’t telling anyone anything.

    But the way Patton improved things almost made Remus feel guilty.  Patton didn’t deserve to be dragged into his mess.  If Remus had been dealing with this for more than a decade at this point and still couldn’t get anything right, maybe Shane had the right idea and he needed some kind of rougher punishment.  He wasn’t going to tell Patton that, of course.  Patton would just start crying again or get that look that meant he wanted to murder whoever made Remus feel that way.  And Remus wasn’t exactly sure he wasn’t supposed to feel that way.

    Besides, his least favorite change just proved how much he couldn’t handle all of this, because somehow his brain had decided the worst part of the whole thing was the way Shane was now having him explain everything he’d done wrong himself.  He said that at this point Remus should have been old enough to understand what he did wrong.  And he was probably right, but for some reason Remus left every session where that was all they did feeling worse than if Shane had broken his nose ten times.  At least when he was beaten to pulp he had a reason for feeling like a worthless piece of shit.  Why did he feel worse when all they did was talk?  There wasn’t even anything for Patton to help with.  He should be fine.

    He tried to take solace in the fact that at least Logan and Roman didn’t know, because sometimes the way Patton looked at him like he was a kicked puppy hurt too.  He still got to stargaze with Logan, and he’d sat in on a few strategizing sessions before.  He made suggestions to Logan afterwards that he said he could use as long as he never said they came from Remus.  Logan seemed baffled by this request.  He always called Remus’ contributions brilliant, and Remus wasn’t sure why he kept lying.  Was he just trying to make him feel better?  That didn’t seem very much like Logan.

    Roman… he didn’t want Shane to affect his relationship with his brother, but he couldn’t say the way Roman seemed completely at ease around Shane didn’t bug the hell out of him sometimes.  There were times he’d considering finding a way to tell Roman for half a second before the voice in his head starting screaming at him what a terrible idea that was.

    Remus was twenty-three when he realized Roman just didn’t care.

    It had been a really awful night.  Patton was still in the process of wrapping a cut on his arm from where Shane had been doing target practice with those new knives that had been made.  It hadn’t even done anything more than nick him, but Remus hadn’t been able to stop shaking since.  He felt like a weakling.

    Patton had been murmuring quiet reassurances the whole time, and it at least created a peaceful enough feeling that Remus was starting to calm down.

    That feeling broke completely in half when the door banged open and Roman ran in.

    “Oh good, you’re both here!” Roman called.

    “Yeah and what the fuck are you doing here?” Remus snapped, whirling around as his heart leapt into his throat.  “Can’t you see we’re busy?  Get out!”

    Roman jumped in surprise and jerked backwards.  “Jeez, what the hell Re?  What’s your deal, I haven’t even told you why I’m here yet.”

    “Hey, it’s okay,” Patton said, pulling Remus back down.  “Careful, you’re going to tear the bandages.”

    “Bandages?” Roman asked.  “Shit, what happened?”  He walked forward in concern as Remus turned back around, still trying to calm his shaking hands as Patton started to wrap the bandages again.

    “Knife practice,” Remus muttered.  “Just got nicked.”

    There was a second of silence, and suddenly Roman laughed.

    Remus turned to look at him in surprise.  “Seriously, that’s it?” Roman asked with a smile.  “Dude, you fell down the stairs and broke your nose as a kid and were still in training that afternoon.”

    “Roman,” Patton said, sounding surprised and a little angry.

    “Okay, okay, sorry,” Roman said, waving his hands dismissively.  “But honestly, Remus, you would think with everything you go through you’d be used to it by now.”

    Remus’ hands stopped shaking.  He turned and looked at his shoes as Patton finished wrapping his cut.  “Did you need something?” he muttered.

    “Oh, yeah!  Logan said he could spot the start of the spring constellations last night!  He told me to come get you two and then we’re gonna raid the kitchens to celebrate!  Stephanie had a birthday last week, there’s gonna be cake!”  He sung the last word in a lighthearted tone that meant that was the part he was really looking forward to.

    “We’ll be right there,” Patton said, half paying attention as he gave the bandages one last look over and then moved to put the medical supplies away.

    “Awesome!  See you there!” Roman called, and turned and jogged out the door.

    “You alright?” Patton said quietly, even as he headed for the door too, clearly assuming Remus was going to follow.

    “I’m fine,” Remus said finally.  He stood up and started to follow Patton.  It was just a tiny knife nick.  Stop thinking about it.  “I… I need a minute.”

    Patton turned again.  “You want me to tell them you’re taking a rain check?”

    Feeling even more like a wimp, Remus nodded.

    “Okay.”  Patton gave him a small smile.  “See you at breakfast, Remus.”  He walked out, leaving Remus alone.

    “You would think with everything you go through you’d be used to it by now.”

    Remus squeezed his eyes shut.  What the hell did that mean?  What the hell was that supposed to mean?

    Remus stopped walking as a thought struck him.  Did… did Roman know?  That sentence certainly suggested it.  Remus thought about all the times he walked back into their shared room late at night bruised, bleeding, or miserable.  Roman would look up at him, ask him if he was good, and go back to what he’d been doing like that decided that, and that was if he was still awake.

    Oh, fuck.  Of course he knew.  Remus was such an idiot.  How could he not have known?

    …Why didn’t he care?

    Remus could think of countless times throughout the years that he had taken the fall for something Roman had screwed up.  Roman would get a firm talking to and a warning while Remus would take the brunt of the punishment, just so he wouldn’t have to.  And Roman didn’t even care that he’d done that?  He just expected him to be used to it?

    Remus made it over to the door and looked out to the right, the direction Patton and Roman had gone in.  Patton had caught up to Roman and they were both rounding the corner, Roman laughing and Patton starting to smile.

    Remus looked down and took a deep breath.  Then he left the room and ran in the other direction.

    He wasn’t entirely sure where he was going, but his feet seemed to have some kind of plan that his brain didn’t, because he kept sprinting through the halls and didn’t slow down.  It was a goddamn miracle that he didn’t meet up with any guards.  He had caught the tail end of the morning shift and the beginning of breakfast, which was probably the main part of it.

    He made it to the exit, and finally stopped.  There were guards there now.  Someone was climbing into one of those mechanical vehicles they were testing, the kind that looked like the horse-drawn carriage of Remus’ childhood without the horse.  That meant there was a place to crouch on the back of it.

    The guards walked off after making sure everything was secure.  Remus waited until they went around the corner across from his not-really-a-hiding-place, then ran for the carriage and jumped on the back before he could really think about what he was doing.  He looked behind the carriage as it exited the doors, and stood up as they approached the guards by the gate.

    “Bodyguard,” Remus said, nodding at them as they passed and thanking his lucky stars this carriage was closed.  They nodded back, and the vehicle started into town.

    They’d made it to the edge and Remus hopped off, taking a breath.  And then he realized what he’d just done.

    Holy shit.  Remus looked around, trying desperately to come up with a plan.  He needed to get away from this village, and fast.  And he needed to make sure The Light couldn’t track him.  That meant he needed clothes.

    Clothes, clothes… ah ha.  House.  He could try out a little thievery along with his escape attempt.  That shirt and cloak looked like they would work well.  And then if he could find the docks everyone talked about being nearby, he could add stowaway to the whole thing too.

    Yeah, this could work.  This was working.

    Time to become a clothing thief and not think about the way that your brother doesn’t care if you get hurt or not.  No big deal.

    It took Remus barely a couple minutes to realize what a crime it was that he had not been on a pirate ship before today.

    Okay, granted, it may not be fair to call these people he had never met pirates.  He had no real way of knowing if they were.  Technically he had never seen any of them, as the second he’d managed to sneak past the crew he’d hidden beneath the deck in what appeared to be a cargo hold, and pushed a number of boxes against the door so that no one could open it.  He had then proceeded to look out a window in hopes of watching them cast off, only to then discover that apparently this particular potentially-pirate ship could fucking fly.  Well, he’d figured the propellers he’d seen on the back had to be used for something, but holy shit.

    “I should have left The Light years ago,” Remus breathed to no one, craning to look out the window as much as he could.  This would no doubt be a much more awe-inspiring experience if he could have been on the deck to watch the ship launch into the air holy shit, but it was still incredible to watch the water and the village that he’d left behind grow smaller beneath him.  He had originally planned on staying on this ship just long enough to make it to another village or other land of some sort, but Remus felt it was safe to say that plan was now under thorough revision.

    The ship leveled out in the air after a couple minutes of soaring upwards and Remus staring out the window grinning like he was seven years old again and Logan had just found the contraband astronomy book.

    He wasn’t sure how long the journey was going to take if they were airborne, but now that he was actually gone and reasonably safe so long as no one discovered him, Remus could move on to the next problem on his list— food.

    He was pretty sure he’d passed a kitchen on the panicked rush down here, but getting there when no one else was would be the issue.  Obviously he’d have to wait until after everyone was asleep, but that unfortunately left him who knows how many hours of staying down here and craning his head out the window.

    Remus sat on a crate and leaned back against the wall of the ship.  Or he could always sleep.  He definitely needed some way to regain energy, and if he didn’t have any access to food, sleep could do.

    Remus looked warily at the door he’d blocked.  He was fairly confident in it holding, but that didn’t mean he should take a stupid risk.

    He tucked his legs underneath him.  He supposed whether or not taking a nap was a smart idea depended on whether or not the people on this ship would instantly kill him if they discovered him.

     …And he supposed that probably depended on whether or not these people were pirates.

    Roman would probably be able to charm any of them and barely have to try.  He probably wouldn’t even have had to steal civilian clothes like Remus had.  He wasn’t a terrible actor if he tried, but he rarely had the attention span to actually do so, and most of his efforts there were already taken up by hiding so many things from Roman and Logan.

    Maybe he should have brought Roman along.

    No, he decided barely a second later.  Roman apparently would have snitched or called him out for the coward he was being, running from Shane like it was something he wasn’t supposed to be able to handle.

    Remus stifled a yawn and gave one last glance at the door before deciding it was worth it and he needed to sleep.  He shifted so he could lean against the wall in a more comfortable position, and fell asleep as his eyes barely slipped shut.

    It felt like a couple seconds later when someone called “What the fuck is this?” and Remus jerked awake.  The door on the other side of the room was open partially.

    “Dammit, who moved the boxes in front of the door again?  If it was fucking Steven—”

    Remus climbed down off the box as quickly and quietly as he could and ducked behind the one next to it.  He took a couple second to take deep breaths to try and shake off being woken abruptly.

    He had mostly calmed down by the time the person at the door managed to shove the boxes away from it and enter.  He had at least calmed down to the point that he could breathe quietly.  The person across the room was grumbling about killing someone named Steven later, and sounded so angry that Remus took a moment to offer his condolences to this Steven person that he had never met.

    He heard the person fumble with some boxes on the other side of the room, and felt a slight bit of relief for as long as it took for the person to then cross the room and open the box right about his head.


    Remus held his breath and waited for a good ten seconds as the person rummaged in the box above him.  Eventually the noise stopped.

    Please be putting the lid back and leaving, please be putting the lid back and leaving, please be—

    “Excuse me?”


    Remus looked up and met gazes with a person who looked a mixture of surprised and angry at what was happening right now.

    “Might I ask who you are?”

    “…I was hired by the captain to check the cargo hold for spiders,” Remus said.

    “Oh, I see.  What’s the captain’s name?”

    “…Peter Pumpkineater.”

    The person above him did not look amused.  They turned halfway behind them and called out.  “Jackson!  We have a stowaway!”

    Remus leapt up and launched himself off the wall and over the person’s head.  He could thank training for that.  Before the person could react he was sprinting towards the door and the person who had shown up in it, who Remus imagined must have been Jackson.  He slid down onto the ground and between his legs, then leapt up again and ran for the stairs he’d seen earlier.  He sprinted back who must have been the crew, but caught enough of them by surprise and managed to elbow the others into the wall or leap over their heads.  He made it to the stairs and got up them in a couple large strides… where he was now stuck on the deck of a ship in mid air.

    How exactly had he expected this plan to go again?

    Remus was going to make a last desperate dash for the crow’s nest (that’s what it was called, right?) when he was finally snatched up by the hood of his cloak that he’d stolen because it made him look like a peasant.  He was severely regretting that decision now.

    “So,” said the person, who had shifted so he now had him by the arm.  He spun Remus around so they were both facing the rest of the crew that was emerging from below deck and walking around from the other side of it.  “Would any of the crew of this ship, who are supposed to check for stowaways before we launch, like to explain what exactly this person is doing here?”

    Remus heard another firm set of footfalls behind the person who was holding on to him.  He turned to see who couldn’t have been anyone but the captain.  He was wearing one of those hats that Remus always thought was stupid, and a long cloak.  The way he stood also made clear that he had authority over everything happening right now.  The snake tattoos on the side of his face were a little unorthodox, Remus thought, although he supposed he had no real way to know.

    “No?  No one wants to speak up?” the person holding Remus asked, and Remus looked back over at him.  “Well, I suppose I’ll have to ask the stowaway himself.  Care to explain?”

    The person turned to face him.  He had the same look that Shane did whenever he was clearly viewing Remus as stupid for not speaking up yet.

    …He was not doing this again.

    Remus reeled back slightly and spit in the person’s face.

    There was a moment of stunned silence, and then the captain burst into laughter behind them.  Remus and the other person both turned in shock to face him.

    “Janus!” the other person snapped, wiping Remus’ spit off his face.

    “Oh, that was brilliant,” Janus said.  “You,” he pointed at Remus.  “You have the audacity to— oh, I like you.”

    Remus wasn’t quite sure what was happening right now.  Clearly the other person did, as he was now looking remarkably irritated.  “Janus!”

    Janus continued to laugh for another couple seconds while the other person continued to glare.  “This is why Dad doesn’t fucking respect you!” he yelled.

    Janus gasped in a way that was clearly not offended in the slightest.  “I am wounded.”  He glanced over at Remus.  “You’re coming to my quarters.  We’re having a chat.”  He then glanced at the crew behind them.  “And everyone else, get back to work!  I’m not paying you to stand around and stare at stowaways who spit in Virgil’s face.”

    Everyone else on the deck clearly wasn’t nearly as intimidated by Janus as he thought they were, because they reacted as if that wasn’t worrying of any kind, and took their sweet time ambling either back below deck or back to whatever job they’d been doing before.

    Janus turned back to Remus, and Virgil finally let go of his arm.  “Well then?”

    “I’m not going to go into a closed space with you,” Remus said instantly.  “You could stab me and drag my guts out through my stomach.”

    Janus raised an eyebrow.  “Heard some nasty stories about pirates, have you?”

    “So you are pirates.  Nice to know.  Still not going into any enclosed spaces.”

    Janus shrugged.  “Fair enough.  Come on, we can talk up here.”  He turned and started towards the back of the ship, where two sets of stairs on opposite sides led to the wheel.  Virgil took a step closer to Remus and raised an eyebrow.  Remus stuck out his tongue and followed Janus back to and up the stairs.  They stopped in front of the wheel, which Janus adjusted slightly before turning to face Remus again, as Virgil leaned against the barrier to the rest of the ship that was behind the wheel.

    “So,” Janus said, raising an eyebrow.  “How did you manage to not be found?”

    “I hid in the cargo hold,” Remus said, because there was no real reason to hide such a thing.  “Shoved a bunch of boxes in front of the door.  It’s not my fault your crew sucks at figuring out when someone’s sneaking past them.”

    Janus raised an eyebrow, looking more amused than anything else.  “You should watch yourself.  Insulting a captain’s crew while standing three feet from him is generally not a smart move.”

    “Neither is spitting in the first mate’s face, and you didn’t seem to have any issues with that,” Virgil grumbled.

    “Well don’t look at me like I’m an idiot then,” Remus snapped before Janus could reply.  “I managed to avoid getting captured by all of you long enough to take a fucking nap in the cargo hold.”

    Remus expected Virgil to scowl or snap back, but all that happened was that he gave him a curious look.  “What gave the impression that I thought you were an idiot?  It can’t be easy to sneak past an entire crew, even if they are preoccupied with a launch.”

    Remus wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that.  Virgil had done the look.  The look always meant he’d done something stupid.

    Somehow, Virgil seemed to understand what Remus was thinking about.  “That’s the tone and look I use when the crew is being stupid,” he said.  “You were just caught in the crossfire.  It had nothing to do with you.  I barely even know you, how could I have an opinion of you?”

    That… was a fair point.

    “Well, you know, other than the fact that you snuck onto my ship when we weren’t expecting you and stowaways aren’t generally something you want,” Virgil continued with a casual wave, like his last sentence hadn’t even mattered.

    “It’s my ship,” Janus said, shooting Virgil a not-at-all-irritated look.  “And I decide how we feel about stowaways.  Besides, I like this one.  He spit in your face.”

    “Wow, love you too, Jan,” Virgil grumbled.

    Janus turned back to face Remus again, raising an eyebrow.  “Where are you from?”

    The answer came to Remus’ mind and a million memories ran through his head in half a second.  Raiding the kitchens as a group of four, even as Patton whispered every time how this was the last time he was doing this.  Tackling Roman in training, or away from the good breakfast food, or just because he wanted to.  Stargazing with Logan pointing at stars and naming them.  Wednesday night meetings with Shane, filled with berating and bruising, coming back to his room with injuries to hide from his brother.  Going to Patton the miracle nurse when his injuries were too bad to ignore.  And then the very recent and still painful memory of Roman brushing off Shane like he wasn’t a big deal when he apparently knew everything Shane did to him.

    Remus considered for a second saying this.  He could probably cover everything with something along the lines of “Well, I grew up in The Light and I had this supervisor who would hurt me all the time which is of course very normal because my brother and my friend knows about it and never seemed to think it was a big deal, but I apparently can’t deal with it anymore without being a pussy, so I ran away and now I’m here.  Wait, you guys don’t hate soldiers from The Light, do you?  Because if you do I probably shouldn’t have told you that.”

    Yeah.  Yeah, bad idea.  He might have been famous for those, but he didn’t really want to walk the plank today.  Wait, was that actually something pirates did?

    “I,” Remus said instead.  “Grew up in the rural town of Buttfuck Nowhere.”

    Janus raised an eyebrow.  “Does this town of yours have an actual name?”

    “You probably haven’t heard of it, it’s called Potsfield,” Remus said.

    It seemed to convince Janus if his small nod was anything to go by.  “Potsfield?”

    “Yeah, town that’s truly going nowhere.  I’ve had a very tragic life.  You know, house burned down when I was a baby, grew up in an orphanage with no family or siblings of any kind, decided I didn’t want to die in obscurity, started traveling from town to town looking for some way to make a name for myself, ran out of money and needed a ride, and here I am.”

    Janus nodded again.  “Uh-huh.”  He glanced back at Virgil for a minute.  Remus couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

    Virgil shrugged.  “Hey, you’re the one who said this is your ship.”

    “Okay,” Janus said.  “Well, that was clearly the most bullshit story I have ever heard.”

    “What?  No, I—”

    “Relax.  I’m not going to make you share your past if you don’t want to.  But if you’re going to stay here—”

    “That’s an option?” Remus interrupted in surprise.

    “If you want to.  Virgil can show you the ropes.”

    “You’re sticking me with training duty?” Virgil asked, sounding more than a little irritated.

    “Oh, you’ll get along swimmingly.  Look at how great your first impression was.”  Janus looked back at Remus.  “Would you want to stay here?”

    “You have a flying pirate ship.  Who wouldn’t?”

    Janus laughed.  “Fair enough.  But my point is, if you’re staying here, we need to know you won’t bring anything else with you.  You don’t have to share your past if you don’t want to, but is it going to bring any kind of danger?”

    “No,” Remus said instantly.  He hadn’t been anything other than a base level soldier, who knew no important information of any kind.  “No one from my life is going to care that I’m gone.”

    Janus nodded.  “Alright.  Then I don’t see any issues with you staying here.  Virgil can help show you how to do some jobs on the ship, and lunch is in a couple hours.  We can talk more then, because there’s a couple other things we’ll have to—”

    “Janus!” a voice called from down below.  “The stowaway moved all of the cargo around!”

    Remus winced and looked back over at Janus, who thankfully looked more amused than irritated.  “Alright, Virgil will be there in just a second to help!” he called.

    “I hate you,” Virgil said, glaring at Janus, even as he headed down to help the person who had called up to him.

    Remus glanced back at Janus, who was moving back towards the steering wheel.  He wasn’t quite sure what to do next since Janus had just sent the person who was supposed to train him down to the cargo hold to fix the mess he’d caused.  Which was weird.  Remus was supposed to clean up his own messes and get beaten up when he inevitably did something wrong.

    Remus blinked as a thought struck him.  If he had snuck onto these people’s ship and hidden in their cargo hold, and they’d welcomed him onto their ship and were apparently going to let him stay without raising a single hand against him, maybe… maybe they wouldn’t?

    The next second Remus wanted to laugh.  That was ridiculous.  Just because they hadn’t done so yet didn’t mean they wouldn’t reach that point eventually.  It was fine.  Remus was used to it anyway, he could take it.  The more important part of this morning was the fact that he… wasn’t in The Light anymore.

    Holy shit.  That was going to take some getting used to.  He was going to have to spend some time thinking about that.  He wasn’t even sure where to start.

    Remus looked across the ship and into the sky beyond.  Below them was water, around them were actual clouds.  He took in the wind blowing his hair back from his face, the sunlight shining off the water below, the birds flying next to them, how clean the air felt.  He took a deep breath and decided that he very much understood people’s love of sea air.  He could get high off this shit.

    He was pretty sure Janus was watching him with amusement from nearby, but he couldn’t really find it in himself to care.  He was away from Shane, away from The Light, away from the place that had made him spend his life in darkness and pain.

    Remus took a deep breath of cold sea air.

    So this is what freedom felt like.

    View Full
  • whumpercrows
    13.06.2021 - 10 hours ago

    Tw; Aaron and Andrew Minyard and everything that entails, implied s*xual a*use, s*lf-h*rm, it’s AftG

    They’re so similar... it must have brought back some memories


    Okay this time I do feel like I have to say sorry.... I just really wanted to try and draw Andrew as a child, and I’ve been trying really hard to find an excuse to do it and now I did it... kinda wish I hadn’t this makes me very very sad, and my day is now a little less good...

    Anyways, this can be a great reminder that Andrew was in fact once a child, that had horrible things happen to him, and that he wasn’t born like we meet him in the books, he was made like that by others. And Aaron was a product of his mother’s neglect and drug problems combined with his aunt and uncle’s hyper religious behavior.

    Hold them accountable, while taking their upbringing into account

    Anyways I’m quite pleased with how this turned out, I’ll get back to writing that Thanksgiving fluff now I swear

    Uncensored version under the cut

    View Full
  • pastelbear12
    13.06.2021 - 11 hours ago
    Anon asked : could you maybe write a nightmare comfort fic for kurapika? i imagine he often has nightmares about his clan and this can be the first time he doesnt wake up alone when it happens 🥺

    Pairing : Kurapika x GN!Reader

    CW : past traumatic events, angst/comfort, gore

    A/N : the pretty boii ofc!! He deserves so much love 🥺 sorry if I really went out in this-

    ➺ The incident that happened to him and his clan when he was a teenager still lingers in his mind and heart, routinely giving him nightmares almost every night. Kurapika initially thought that God really hated him, that He thought his trauma wasn't enough so He needed to give him nightmares all the time

    ➺ He always gets sleepless nights at least once a week, waking up in the middle of the night gasping for air with sweat all over his body has become his daily food. For some reason, his dreams were always about how bad his village was when he returned from his journey, how one of their organs had been ripped off and left their nearly rotting bodies lying everywhere. He remembers how his parents held hands until the last second of their life, without their eyes where they should be

    ➺ Kurapika thought he would be greeted with a warm hug from his family, telling how great the adventure he had been, with Pairo suddenly calling him from outside his house to confirm the news of his return. He thought that only laughter and longing hugs would welcome him. But he was wrong. He was so wrong.

    ➺ There's nothing more painful than the falling of hopes that you've placed sky high. Kurapika's expectations on his return of journey were very high. But his hopes were immediately dashed, crushed, trampled upon, when he saw his desolate village, too quiet to give any sign that there was one living creature inhabiting that place. Way too quiet than it should be. The small village, the place and source of his happiness, had now become a field with piles of eyeless corpses. There were even several bodies separated from their main bodies, mouths wide open as if the last sound they let out was a scream of agonizing fear.

    ➺ Kurapika still remembers how shocked, scared and devastated he was at that time as if it happened just yesterday night. His eyes couldn't even shed a tear, slowly turning scarlet red as he stumbled and tripped of mere branches, running to his house, trying to ignore the corpses strewn across the village roads. Traces of blood had been there since the house was seen from a distance. Kurapika then stopped where he was, not daring to get any closer. He who was too young to have endured the traumatic experience shook violently, in denial, tears started to roll down his cheeks, and he knelt on the ground. Desperate, scared, lost. He didn't know what his purpose in life was. Hell, would he even continue to live after this? Little Kurapika was already thinking about how bleak the tomorrow would be.

    ➺ His heart had gone numb as he limply and tiredly buried all his villagers properly, trying not to see and care about how badly their bodies were, all of which had lost their eyes. Kurapika's eyes were still red, hatred was starting to grow in his heart. With his hand gripping the shovel in his hand until his fist turned white, he swore, in the name of his family and soul, that he would avenge his family and friends. Making any devil who dared to take his greatest happiness away from him forcibly and suddenly to feel the way he was currently feeling, perhaps even worse. Hell, they will taste hell-

    ➺ His eyes snaps open, revealing his watery scarlet eyes with some of the tears that have flowed down his cheeks, his chest heaving as if he had just run tens of kilometers away. Kurapika finds the ceiling of his dimmed room, the dream had returned again. The picture was too clear to his liking, too painful for him to handle.

    ➺ The touch on his hand makes him flinch hard, slightly slapping anything that just dared touch him, only to find you already sitting next to him with the blanket pooling around your waist. Your eyes show clear worry, and Kurapika tries to steady his breathing, throwing his right hand over his forehead.

    ➺ "Oh my god, you had a nightmare again didn't you? Wait here I'll grab a water-"

    ➺ His hand grabbing your elbow manages to stop you from shifting to the edge of the bed, followed by a little tug to pull you a little closer. You look back at him, seeing his eyes are still red behind his arm that partially covers his eyes, then the man shakes his head weakly.

    ➺ "No. I don't need water. I need you."

    ➺ Without waiting for Kurapika's next words, you quickly shift your body closer to his, pulling him who's still in panic attack into your arms. Your fingers slowly comb his blond hair, caressing his cheeks while wiping the traces of tears that are on his both cheeks. Kurapika looks up at you, his eyes slowly returning to black as he stares at you as if you're his savior

    ➺ "You might want to drink some water. It might help you to calm down."

    ➺ "No. This is fine."

    ➺ You nod, then kiss his forehead lovingly, causing Kurapika to sigh. He throws his hands around your waist, changing his position so that now he can bury his face in your chest, feeling your heart beat a little faster because of his unexpected actions. Hearing your heart still beating, and your hands holding him close make a smile appear on his lips.

    ➺ "There there love. I'm here. You can hold me as long as you need and want. You can cry all you want in my arms. I'm always here for you. Just like you are always there for me"

    ➺ Kurapika's heart warms as he hears your sweet words, then he pulls you closer. Your hug feels warm and true, as if it was designed for him to hug and embrace. He feels you gently caressing his back, and it succeeds in making him melt and fall in love with you even more. Your comfort and your presence the only ones that keep him sane at this point.

    ➺ He remembers the night before he met you. The gloomy nights he always spent with his nightmares, and he who always refused to continue his sleep, chose to immerse himself in his work so that he could forget the dream he had just had. But now, he has you. Someone to hug when he needs a hug. Someone to cherish, his new source of happiness. He promises himself that nothing will mean more to him than your happiness and safety. His hand goes up to your hair, gently stroking the strands

    ➺ "Do you wanna continue your sleep dear?"

    ➺ Your soft voice makes him close his eyes, feeling his heart soften because of your voice.

    ➺ "Yeah. We should go back to sleep. I have a plan for tomorrow and we will not be late for it"

    ➺ Your laughter makes Kurapika smile again. You pull yourself slightly away from Kurapika's body to see his face, slightly makes him miss your warmth, but what you do next make up for that. You gently kiss his eyelids alternately then caress the man's cheek

    ➺ "Then let's sleep. I won't go anywhere."

    ➺ Kurapika can't stop himself from pecking your lips once before pulling you back into his arms, changing his position from being in your arms to being the one holding you. Your soft hums manage to make Kurapika return to his disturbed sleep earlier, with his first sweet dream in a while waiting for him at the dream gate

    #pastel's works#kurapika#kurapika kurta #kurapika x reader #kurapika kurta x reader #kurapika hcs#kurapika headcanons#hxh #hunter x hunter #hxh headcannons #hunter x hunter headcanons #kurapika angst#angst/comfort #tw : gore
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  • sunshineandcybertronians
    13.06.2021 - 11 hours ago

    Make Your Choice - Megatron x reader x Starscream (TFP)

    Word count: 2,621 Warnings: angst, conflicting feelings, major character death A/n:  Finished this in one day 9/21/19 at 11:01 PM (holy heck, that was a long time ago). I read pages 140-144 in Transformers Exodus. I never thought I’d write something that’s even slightly Megatron x reader, but here I am. But this oneshot turned out good.

    "Where is he?" You searched the dark corridor of Nemesis for a friend.

    As a Decepticon you served under Megatron, and Starscream at times. You were lucky enough to be close to both of them. Although Decepticons would never admit to having friends, you called them this secretly.

    You were kind to everyone, even those you didn't know. It hurt you to think of anyone in pain. The majority of the Decepticons knew this, and it was miraculously pardoned thus you were given tasks that required no violence. Perhaps it was your soft words and consideration that made this so, finding a soft spot in the seemingly merciless Megatron. Starscream also respected this when he was in control for about three years.

    It was very possible someone would question why you were a Decepticon with your nature being closer to an Autobot. This had occurred to you before, but you hoped to change the Decepticons. If everyone who was good left the Decepticons, there would be no chance of changing it to good in the future. Plus, most of your friends were on that side.

    You looked through a doorway, he wasn't there either. "Where are you, Starscream?" You whispered to yourself. Well, you said friend earlier, but recently your feelings for him were becoming a little... different.

    Since you finished some work sooner than you presumed, you now had free time that you intended to spend it with Starscream. Upon coming to a T in the halls, you paused to think of a plan. Snapping your fingers, you rushed in the direction of the medbay, to not waste another second of your time. Maybe Knockout knew where he was. Out of everyone he was the second closest to the second in command. While jogging, you remembered when you first started to develop feely for him.

    Despite the fact you were kind-sparked, this didn't mean that you were not immune to frustration. At the point of time Megatron had just left on his journey through space, Starscream attacked a vehicon because he was dissatisfied with their lack of progress. For no good reason, out of anger.

    "Hey!" You had barked at him, startling both him and the vehicons. "Don't do that. They did nothing to you."

    He examined you with his red optics. A snarl and an un-amused expression decorated his faceplate as his tilted his helm back. Releasing the vehicon whilst shoving him away, he shifted his attention to you. He approached you, in attempt to intimidate you.

    Your held your ground.

    "And I believe you should be reminded of your place. You are a subordinate, who doesn't even have the fuel tank to draw energon. You don't tell me what to do."

    "No! You listen!" When his servos flinched, you stepped forward to grab them to prevent him from attacking you. You shoved your faceplate near his, with barely any space apart. "They're on the same side as you. Don't hurt people for no reason. It's not nice." After your anger faded, you realized how close your face was. Energon rushed through you.

    He smirked, which didn't help your flustered look. "Are you blushing, little femme?"

    "No!" You stepped away.

    You thought a little more and decided you wanted to clear something up before you left. "But you are a good leader. You just need to avoid letting your anger get the best of you. If you make emotional decisions, you might mess up your chance to succeed, like I know you can."

    Shock filled his expression, his optics widening and eyebrows lifting at the thought you actually believed in him. He quickly regained his senses. "You mean like you did just now?" He showed teeth while displaying the irony.

    You pursed your lips and averted your gaze to the ground. "Yes. Just like that," you mumbled.

    And strangely enough, after that you had become very good friends with him and would have many conversations with him. Knockout would occasionally tease you for it.

    Another example was before leaving Cybertron, when Megatron first learned of Dark Energon (unbeknownst to you and Megatron at the time, Starscream already knew of it long before and was attempting to learn more). He privately admitted to you, something you found shocking at the time, that he knew it was unwise to use the Dark Energon due to its unknown and most likely dangerous properties. Yet he felt it necessary to end the war. He, the gladiator, was tired of fighting. It nearly melted your spark and made you want to hug him in order to make him feel better. Then he said that maybe he would finally defeat the "treacherous Optimus Prime," which then caused you to want to call him an idiot since you knew Optimus never betrayed Megatron.

    You had mixed emotions like that. If you wanted someone to be the best version of themselves and to be their friend, their flaws and evil mistakes made you upset for that same reason. This mostly fell under your emotions about Megatron or Starscream.

    Your thoughts were put to an end when you reached your destination. Without missing a beat, you opened the door and marched right in.

    "(Y/n)! Did you need repairs?" Knockout picked up one of the tools he was organizing.

    "Hey, Knockout! No. I was wondering if you knew where Starscream was," you explained.

    He chuckled, his finish reflecting what little light there was in the room. "Of course you came here to ask where your boyfriend was."

    You stiffened. "He's not my boyfriend, we're just friends."

    "You could've fooled me." The mech lifted his optic ridge, clearly not convinced.

    "Do you know where he is?" You cut to the point again, wanting to leave the awkward conversation.

    "I may," he answered wistfully, "but you may have to give me some more buffing solution as payment."

    "But I just gave you some yesterday. In fact, I think you almost always get it from me, and I never ask for anything in return. By the time I get you more I'll have to go back to work."

    "Just joking. He's heading to the energon supplies to check inventory." Knockout didn't even give you a glance as he picked up a buffer in the corner and spun the correct pad onto it. "Make sure you remember to propose to him."

    "Knockout," you drew out his name in annoyance, almost out the door.

    "Just kidding."

    You rolled your eyes, mentally forgave him, and bolted to the direction of the energon stock. The clanging of your pedes hitting the floor slowed and came to a halt when the entrance was just on your right.

    "Starscream?" You stuck your helm in and searched. Finally, your optics locked onto the thin seeker, with sharp features and expressive wings. He looked to you with surprise, his long digit hovering over the control panel that contained information on how much energon there was, how much was used in the previous month, and the chart of how much energon was found compared to other points throughout time on Earth.

    "(Y/n)? Aren't you supposed to be organizing files right now?" He inquired.

    "I was done early." You hopped into the room as the door slid closed behind you. It was now dark, except for the illumination from the energon. The way it dimly shown on him and cast shadows on the edges of his figure made him look even more attractive. You shifted and swatted away the thoughts in your head.

    "So, what are you up to?"

    "Nothing much," he groaned, waving his servo. "I was simply accessing the inventory to find if we had enough and needed to lower rations."

    "Hmm. From what I read in reports, it's getting harder to find energon, but we found a good stock recently."

    "Yes. I saw that on the chart." He nodded to the glowing screen.

    Before you could stop yourself, you began admiring his wings. Then your gaze shifted to a part that wasn't quite as smooth as the rest.

    "What's that scratch on your wing?" You exclaimed when you finally noticed it.

    He bit his lip, looked to it, and shrugged. "I flew too low and my wing got clipped by a tree."

    Studying the scrapes, you delicately traced your fingers on it. He winced in pain and reached to shove it away, but stopped when you flinched away on your own after seeing his reaction.

    Letting, your servo fall softly onto the undamaged surface. His wings relaxed in please and a smile crept onto his face. You gently rubbed the spot below it and held his jaw with your other servo. He seemed to melt at your touch and closed his optics. His arms snaked their way around your waist.

    His optics flickered open again and stared at you with an emotion you had never seen present in them before... love. Without thinking or even considering the consequences of it, you began to close the distance between your lips and his. However you were cut off when light filled the room coming from the door.

    You both turned your heads to see who it was. The expectation was that it was just a vehicon, however it was anyone but a simple minion. It was Megatron himself.

    You both stepped back. What was he doing there? He was probably either looking for you or Starscream. You passed some vehicons on the way, so he could have definitely inquired where you were from them, if you were indeed the one he was seeking to find.

    When he noticed you and Starscream together, and not just that, but that you were having... erm, a moment, his face twisted from a hurt shocked to anger.

    "What have we here?" He marched in, servos behind his back. The door closed, blocking the light once more. You weren't exactly sure why he was so furious, he had never been that mad at you before.

    "Well," Starscream stumbled on his words and shrunk back. "You see-"

    "Trying to steal yet another thing from me!" He exploded at the seeker. He took the second in command's neck in his hand and held him in the air.

    "Megatron! What are you doing?!" It made no sense, why he was just suddenly deciding to kill Starscream. Had he tried to kill him recently? What did he mean 'steal'?

    "What are you... Talking... About?" Starscream gasped with his legs dangling.

    "(Y/n)," he turned to you. You flinched back, yet noticed how his voice was softer. "Be my sparkmate."

    This thoroughly confused you and sent a chill through your frame. "What?! No."

    A mix of despair, anger, and desperation showed on his faceplate.

    Deciding to elaborate you started carefully, "Why? I thought we were just friends. I thought of us as just friends." You had nothing against him. You cared about him, but never thought of it in a different way. Perhaps you could have explained more, although in your baffled state, you couldn't get out much.

    "Those years in space," the leader of the Decepticons began, "it was so lonely I once thought I would lose my mind. The only two things that kept me going and what made me able to live after every near-death experience are my desire to extinguish Optimus and to be with you. You somehow make everything better and chase away darkness and solitude." A blade launched from above his hand and he aimed it for the dangling Cybertronian in his hand. "I want you to always be by my side. Be my sparkmate, or Starscream dies."

    You couldn't believe it, well, maybe you could considering how violent he was and how many other times he came close to killing Starscream. The Decepticon leader had even expressed fear you'd leave him for someone else before. Yet, you had assumed that it was platonic and never guessed this would happen.

    "Please," you pleaded, "Don't terminate him. I know you have kindness in your spark, and it is not weakness, it is a virtue. Please. Starscream has always been useful to you. For me?" You held your servos together, your sad optics sparkled.

    This seemed to make him consider, as he started to reflect your sadness then shook it away. Replaced with anger of how greatly you cared for his second in command that seemed to undermine everything he did. "No. Only if you become my sparkmate."

    The seeker decided to take matters into his own servos and aimed the red missile on his arm while distracted. Megatron noticed and tore it and the other off and let then drop to the floor with Starscream wailing in pain.

    You shook your head in horror, still in disbelief of what was happening. "Why are you doi-"

    "I CAN'T LOSE YOU TO STARSCREAM!" He raised the sword. "And now he won't keep you from me anymore!"

    "NO!" You screamed. Panic surged through you. This couldn't happen, you couldn't lose Starscream. You just couldn't. You didn't want him to die. If he were to die, you would never see or talk to him again, and it was something you could never afford.

    Without thinking, you lunged forward and converted your servo to a blade. Only focusing on saving Starscream, you slashed at the one threatening his well-being.

    Then time slowed. Your optics widened. You stumbled back with energon stained on the sharp edge. Megatron opened his mouth, yet nothing came out as his grip loosened and he fell to the ground. His helm nearly falling off of his body, with almost all severed off. Your mouth hung open watching the glowing blue liquid puddle onto the floor, seeming to form a lake. He gave the saddest look you've ever seen, making you want to scream as he seemed to stare right into your spark, before his scarlet optics flickered and the life faded from them.

    Then the gravity of what you did. You stared at the blade, then your dead friend.

    "NO! What am I doing? Why did I want to hurt you?!" You screamed. Switching back to your hand, feeling the energon drip into your parts, as you ran forward and held Megatron. You answered your own questioned, "It was to save Starscream, but why did you make me do that?! I didn't wanna hurt you. I'm supposed to be a friend, be nice. I just wanna... wanted to be your friend." You changed the word since Megatron was now no more. You wrapped your armed around him in a hug. Overcome by grief. Then anger resurfaced.

    "Stupid head! Why do you have to be like this? Why do you have to be an evil overlord? I wanted to be friends. I care about you!" Then you sank back into sadness.

    With a sigh, you attempt to pull yourself together. He was set to the side and you stood up, energon dripping off of you.

    This whole time, Starscream, who had crawled away when he was first released, watched you. He really had no idea what to do or how to help you. All he knew was that you probably needed to be left alone at that moment, thus he stood there. Although he was flattered that you, as a pacifist, would kill to save him, he hated that you were unhappy. He waited until a few nanoklicks after you stood in silence.

    "All hail Starscream?" He hesitantly questioned, his wings giving a shrug. He clearly didn't want to bother you in such an emotional state, although still desired to know if he'd be leading the Decepticons.

    With a small smile creeping to your lips, you nodded while trying to move on from what happened. "Yes. All hail Starscream."

    #megatron x reader #starscream x reader #megatron x reader x starscream #tfp x reader #TFP#Transformers Prime#Starscream#Megatron#angst#tw death
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  • theprofessionalpromptmaker
    13.06.2021 - 11 hours ago

    Person A: You didn’t need to turn into the monsters who hurt you.

    Person B: Oh no, I didn’t turn into *them*, I turned into something so much worse.

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  • stawp-i-coulda
    13.06.2021 - 11 hours ago

    It almost feels as if there's a crushing weight pinning her chest, breath hitched and whole body seeming as though it's on fire, immediately recognising the sign to where they are going.

    Big Bear.

    Two years had passed since she was here last, since the day she symbolically let go of the trauma surrounding her having to kill her husband that fateful day in the snow three years prior. But symbolically letting go never meant that she actually healed from everything that had happened to her here and a part of her has always known that she would never truly be able to get over it. She had been with Doug for sixteen years of her life, married to him for eleven of those, and she had loved him. She had loved him even when she couldn't love herself, even when what he showed her in return was far from love, and she had killed him right in these woods, right on this mountain. It only makes sense for her to die here too. True, it may not be alongside him, it may be three years after he had died, but the irony is that he was right in some twisted way in that the only way she would ever truly be free of Doug was through death. Her death.

    Vincent hadn't been kind enough to spare her the details of how she was going to die - how he was going to kill her rather - and maybe she wishes that he had, because her whole body is shaking to the point where it's almost convulsing, every additional movement agonising yet unpreventable in her state of fear. There's a sly grin on his face, one that she's almost certain hasn't left since he had physically picked her up earlier and propped her up in the passenger seat of the car, one that causes her stomach to churn and bile to rise in her throat. He knows that she's scared, he can tell just how terrified she is and she knows she should try and breathe, try to calm herself down because he's taking pleasure from her panic, but she doesn't care anymore. At this point, death seems more like an inevitable blessing than it does a curse and maybe she hadn't wanted to give up on herself yesterday, maybe she still doesn't want to give up on herself or the life she once had before he had taken her, but trying to fight back seems futile now, pointless. If only. If only she could go back in time to the day he had taken her, if only she could tell everyone just how sorry she truly was, just how much she loved them and would always appreciate everything they had done for her. If only she could tell them that she never intended to hurt them like this and if she could, she would take it all back. But she can't, it's too late now, and she is going to have to die with the shame of hurting the people she loved despite it being her best efforts not to.

    She glances at the knife at the outline of a knife in his pocket, remembering the way he had cut off her zip ties as her husband had done three years ago, that was before a new pair got put on. A tighter pair, one that chafed the already bloodied and open wounds on her wrists, cutting into the flesh deeply as if it was nothing more than butter. The blade is a similar style to the one that Doug had used to stab both her and Chimney all those years ago before it had taken his life with it and she shivers, the pain it sends throughout her body crippling and crucifying as she does so. Vincent had made a big deal in telling her exactly what he was going to do with that knife, how he was going to trace over the scars on her thigh and stomach before reopening the wounds long healed and then, if that still wasn't enough to kill her after what he had already done, he was going to do the same thing to her as she had done to Doug three years ago, stabbing her across her shoulder and back six times until she eventually bled out. Six times.

    But not before he had some more fun with her first.

    It was with a gulp that she tried to decipher what that could mean for her, just how much more torture she was going to be put through before he decided enough was enough and showed her mercy, finally ending her life. She wanted him to kill her, she wanted it to all end it all right there as she curled up into a ball and allowed herself to die. What she didn't want, however, was to go back into the same cabin she had never wanted to step foot in again, but that wasn't going to happen. The universe had simply decided that it was having too much fun hurting her in every way imaginable, that it was more fun to watch her suffer than to finally give her the peace she so desperately sought.

    "Do you recognise this place, Maddie? I bet you do, or at least, you should, considering it's where you murdered your husband. You left him to bleed out in the snow after stabbing him six times and it's a shame that there isn't any snow this year, because I would have loved to return the favour for him."

    She grimaces at his words, trying not to cry as the car pulls to a stop and he gets out, walking around to her side and picking her up again. His grip is a lot more careless than it had been before, almost like his patience is wearing thin with her and it makes sense in a way, because what's the point of being delicate with her if he's only going to kill her soon? Clamping her eyes shut, she hears the door open as they step inside and she is placed on the floor, her back leaning against the same seat she had sat at the last time she was here, merely minutes before she had hit Doug over the head with a fire poker and ran out into the woods. Everything about this was bringing back memories of that day, her blood running cold as she could almost see her husband crouching down in front of the fire he was lighting in the hearth as he reminded her of one of the worst days of her life - back at the Poconos. She could hear the bitter tone to his voice as he reminded her of the incident which led to one of the worst beatings of her life, asking her what it was that women found so attractive about men in uniform. She could feel the cold touch to his cheek as she placed her hand there, thumb gently brushing over his stubble in a way that she knew he used to adore so much. She could smell the smoke coming from the fire and she could still taste the cashier's blood in her mouth from where he had been shot right in front of her. All of those things, all of the memories and details she had tried to suppress were coming back to her, so real and yet, none of it was happening now. She knows it's just her mind playing tricks on her, she knows that it's the similarities coming off too strong and overwhelming her and her senses, but it just feels so real .

    Read more here💗💗

    #fic rec #howie chimney han #angst#whump#madney#maddie buckley #9 1 1 fanfiction #Tw. blood/injury #Tw. stabbing #Tw. shooting #Tw. character death
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  • sleepysnapdragonart
    13.06.2021 - 13 hours ago

    Only a single page this update since I’ve been busy :<

    Previous: here

    Next: coming

    Start: here

    #backstory angst#whump#d&d whump#surgical whump#fey whumpee#dehumanisation tw#whump comic #please let me know if I should add any tags #if this wasn’t serious I would do the Skyrim joke #dungeons and dragons #changeling#whumblr
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  • msppotts
    13.06.2021 - 13 hours ago
    #❛ ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵉˢˢᵃᵍᵉ  ╱ ( ᵃⁿˢʷᵉʳᵉᵈ ) #invinciblestark#tw alcoholism #tw general angst #tw harmful tendencies #oops my hand slipped #i am soft and emo over them
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