#or maybe I want to talk about duras
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M.A.A.D CITY. CHAPTER FOUR! MONEY TREES.
warnings : mention of drugs (1), violence ( extremely minor ), cursing, arguments.
previous part. | next part.
Knock Knock.
Your knuckles hit the door in a rhythmic pattern, the door to the Morales’ home, that is. You would think that maybe you’d have a key by now since you visit so much, but Ms. Morales doesn’t like you that much, you guess.
There are a few beats of silence before you hear shuffling approach the door and the tired voice of your best friend.
“ Who is it? “, he grunts.
“ Me. “
Miles’ voice doesn’t reach your ears again for a few minutes before he’s sighing and unlocking the door.
The wood swings open to reveal him, Voltron pyjama pants and all. His hair is the same as when you last saw him, a little frizzy at the top, but neat braids brushing his collarbone. He needs a haircut.
“ What’s up? “, he says blankly.
“ You’re not gonna let me in? “
“ I don’t gotta let you in. You don’t live here. “, he stares at you like he can’t believe you just asked that question. Like you just asked for a brick of crack. “ What’s up? “
You’re starting to get a little irritated. Barely any communication for a week and when you show up to see what the deal is, you’re met with a grumpy teenage boy who looks like he’s about to break apart into glass shards.
“ I just wanted to see what you were up to, Miles. Don’t get so upset. “
“ ‘M not upset. I haven’t been up to anything, so you can go now. “
“ What’s wrong with you? “
“ Nothing’s wrong. You show up at my house and then you keep on asking me stupid questions like I don’t have anything else to do except talk to you. “, his eyes narrow. The once gold specks in the hazel colour are gone and replaced with anger. Your fist clenches, like he just punched you in the gut and you’re about to reel your own hand back and sock him with it.
“ What the hell is your problem? You barely even talk to me anymore and then when I try to be a good friend, you catch an attitude! “
“ I don’t have a problem! Estas Sordo? “ Miles moves his hand from the doorknob, reaching to grab your upper arm and push you back from the frame, not hard, but enough to get you to move out of his personal space. That you’ve hardly even invaded.
“ Go somewhere else. “, he spits.
“ Fine. “, your eyebrows are furrowed together. You’d been holding a sour expression for so long that your face was sore when you dropped it as soon as the door slammed in your face. Your feet automatically move to the exit of the building. A lump of guilt and anger welling up in your throat while you walk.
What the hell is his problem?
——
Miles swears he wants to choke you out. You’re so nosy. Can never mind your own business. He bounces his leg up and down, cracks his knuckles, drinks tons of water, tries to watch television, anything to get that conversation off his brain. So annoying. You should’ve never even come over. He wasn’t going tell you what was going on anyway, and you know that because you know him. Maybe you don’t know him, since anyone who knows him knows not to show up at his house uninvited.
Hard Headed. Cabeza Dura, whatever you want to be called. It doesn’t change the fact that you don’t listen, ever. It’s not like he ever told you not to come over, it was an unspoken rule!
I am avoiding you. Do not come over.
Easy as that.
You act like one dollar will turn into a million if you come over and act like the mediator between him and his thoughts.
But when he thinks about it, is it really as easy as that?
Of course, you’d come over.. but— not to argue with him. He didn’t want to argue with you, there was no point. He should’ve just said “ Okay. “ and left it at that. Maybe tell you the truth while he’s at it. The truth.
It’s Friday. The trip is next Sunday.
He hasn’t told you, he hasn’t told his mom, he hasn’t told Uncle Aaron and he certainly won’t be telling his school counsellor what the hell was going on in his very busy life. It’s eating him up on the inside. Tearing him apart and pulling out his hair. What will he do?
What would you do?
Tell the truth.
Shut up.
He has to tell his mom. Mama first, then everything else. She’s the only parent he has left. That makes his heart ache thinking about it. He should get over it, nothing is going to change the fact that he’s gone.
Why is every thought he’s ever had coming to the front of his mind right now when he’s about to tell his mom the craziest information? That he’s going on a trip 2244 Miles away from Brooklyn to Vegas of all places?
Right.
His fingers are shaking, he’s going to drop his phone or something. Just get it over with.
He messes up the passcode two times before getting it right, and then he mistypes, “ Mama “ in on the contact list once before he gets his shit together.
Do it.
The call button is right there.
Just do it.
Shut up.
translations:
Cabeza Dura. — hard headed.
Estas Sordo? — You’re deaf?
#miles g morales#miles morales x reader#earth 42 miles x reader#miles 42#prowler miles x reader#42 miles morales x reader#cleo’s works!#earth 42 miles x black reader
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Hi, if you're okay with it I'd like to request Jungkook somehow finding out about the part he played in the pudding incident (maybe overhearing them talking about it again or her mentioning it to Yoongis hybrid so she's more careful around him)...so he can finally punch him 🙃 sorry, but I just think he needs to get set straight to realize he can't keep doing stuff like that and just get away with it.
I really enjoy your writing btw, thank you for sharing your works!<3
The tension is high in the apartment, Jungkook breathing heavily as he's held back by Yoongi, who's clearly struggling to keep the youngest of the group in his hold. While yes, Jungkook is and will stay the maknae, he's grown up at this point, physically superior to a lot of the members at this point- Yoongi included. He's already landed a hit on his bandleader's face; its clear that the only reason he doesn't continue being you and Yoongi's hybrid a little further away, hugging each other for comfort at the sight of everyone being so on edge.
"I deserve that." Namjon nods, holding his jaw. He's lucky his bandmate couldn't really land a full on hit on his face, as Yoongi had been quick enough to react in time.
"Of course you fucking do!" Jungkook yells out. "You almost killed her! And as for his-" Jungkook looks at Yoongi next to him before his heated gaze returns to his leader. "-You almost got her taken by authorities! What if she had run on the streets, got hit by a car, huh?! Would that have made you happy?!" He barks.
"Absolutely not. I.. didn't know she'd react like that." Namjoon offers defeatedly. "The same with yours. I wasn't.. aware that there was such a high amount in there, if I did I wouldn't have done it." He tries to explain himself, looking over at the two hybrids a little further away. "I'm sorry. I hope you know that." He offers.
"You don't even have the right to look at her-" Jungkook starts again, but Yoongi chimes in now.
"Alright, let's calm down here." He says calmly. "What I'm failing to understand here, is just why?" Yoongi wonders, looking at his bandleader, who turns to the side again, watching both hybrids become more calm now. "You're not a bad person, Namjoon. Why do this then?" He asks, letting go of Jungkook now so he can go and comfort his own hybrid.
"In this industry.. it's best if you, you know, surround yourself with people who won't be taken away from you. Who won't leave you, you know." He simply explains, as both hybrids slowly begin to explore his home after he nods in approval once they look at him as if to ask. "It'll just.. I just wanted you to realize that you're playing with fire. Like water in your hands- it will drip out between your fingers at some point, no matter how hard you try." He says, walking to sit down on his couch.
It doesn't take long for both Idols to follow him, their hybrids close behind, sitting close to them. Everyone doesn't understand, still. It feels like there's more to it than the bandleader lets on. It's only when Yoongi's hybrid finds a worn-down tiger plushy on the edge of the couch, that Yoongi seems to understand-
simply from the hurt that flashes in his friend's eyes as he gently takes it away from her, to place it somewhere out of reach for both hybrids.
"You've had one yourself." Yoongi says, and Namjoon sighs. "What happened?"
"Management happened." His leader defeatedly explains. "I trusted them like.. Jungkook did. Told them about her. Explained how I'm taking care of her, how I'm planning to solve issues like tours, and so on." He shrugs. "But back then, they weren't so lenient. It backfired, simple as that." He says.
"Backfired how?" Jungkook asks now, realizing why his friend might've been so hostile especially towards him. He's got something he never had been granted- the freedom to bring his partner to work with him, to have them protected just as well as they are themselves.
"Told me they'd help with the tour stuff. That she'd be given into a carecenter for the duration, and the company would cover the costs even." He recalls the events. "It sounded great. Not perfect, obviously- but it was a solution I could work with. So I explained to her the night before we had to leave for tour, that she'd stay at the center just for a few weeks until the tour would be over."
"But they never gave her back." Yoongi finishes, and Namjoon nods, clenching his jaw.
"I came back home, and she wasn't there. I talked to management about when I'd be able to pick her up- and they just told me 'never.', that she's staying there, forever." He explains further, both hybrids clearly distressed at the story he's telling. "And when I tried myself to get her back somehow, I couldn't find her. Nothing. Not under her name, nor her ID. She's gone, because I trusted management to handle it." He says. "I don't want you to go through that. I don't.. I wanted to protect you. All of you." He says, now looking at the hybrids as well.
"You could've simply talked to us." Jungkook mumbles, pulling his hybrid onto his lap. "We could've just spoken about this like now."
"Would you have believed me?" Namjoon questions. "You would've simply thought 'oh, that will never happen to me!', and then move on." He chuckles dryly, Yoongi sighing.
"Oh man, this is one big mess." He shakes his head. "Now what do we do?" He asks, and Jungkook puts out his hand.
"I accept your apology." He offers, and Namjoon nods, shaking his friend's hand. "It's.. not okay, but I can understand it, in a way." He says.
"Same here, by the way." Yoongi nods.
"I'll try and help you protect them." Namjoon says, sternly so. "I don't want you to go through this, and I understood that I went at it from the wrong direction. I'm really sorry." He says, and everyone nods at that, Yoongis hybrid even doing so much as to reach out and hug him- Jungkook's soon to follow.
It does bring the bandleader to tears a little bit- but it also shows how truthful he meant his words.
And on the sidelines, both Jungkook and Yoongi already think of how to maybe help him.
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whoops, i almost forgot about the star trek update. tuesday we watched tng's "firstborn" and "bloodlines" and last night we watched ds9's "the wire" (honorific)
firstborn (tng):
i was actually bracing for this one to suck ass bc everyone says worf is a bad dad. and i dont think he is!!! like, it doesn't come as easily to him as it does to sisko, and he sometimes forgets to be gentle or kind with alexander because he's so laser focused on how things SHOULD be he forgets to the importance of taking others' feelings into account, but that's how he is ALL THE TIME with EVERYONE not just his kid. considering the circumstances i'd say he's doing well
before we get started, GREAT cameo from the duras sisters. i was initially really annoyed with their tit windows but im becoming rather fond
i really liked "the family protector guy "k'mter" at first because he said all the right things to alexander...like, it's scary not being able to defend yourself, etc. then he also was a dick to alexander and i was really exasperated...but then he IS alexander so that totally fixes it. he's angry with himself and conflicted and just wants a HUG FROM HIS DAD and that FIXED it!!! like when he said "nobody will look at you and see a human you are alone on this ship" initially it felt like racism but it being like, not quite self-loathing but just bitter experience...that's actually so clever
this is the only episode where they brought up alexander's mom kind of hating ""klingon stuff"" and how that could possibly have negatively impacted him and it only got two lines of dialogue but still. i think it's really damning that she hated her own heritage and also brought her kid up to hate it and now he's sort of out here...pretending to be human, almost, to the point where he doesn't want to participate in hsi own culture or even bond with his own father (a klingon). like it sucks so bad for him
i was afraid that the plot twist would be "k'mter talks alexander into wanting to be a warrior after all just when worf realizes he doesn't have to be" which would have been sad but a real "oh shit" of an ending. mixed feelings about them not doing that but i understand why they wanted to properly wrap things up for s7
i almost forgot but rare w for picard for bending the rules a little bit to give worf time to go to the klingon festival with his kid. credit where it is due
bloodlines (tng):
i have never been so BITTERLY DISAPPOINTED.......................
they gave. picard. an affair baby.
THEY GAVE HIM AN AFFAIR BABY!
what have i been saying since farpoint! he has an affair baby! AND THEY GAVE HIM ONE
AND THEN TOOK IT AWAY
what was the POINT OF THE EPISODE
if that's not his fucking affair child
pussy ass little FUCKS couldnt commit to changes...
i can't even remember what else happened in this episode i was so disappointed about this plot twist
oh yeah actually i do remember picard made a bald joke which i THINK was the only time he's done that in seven seasons? i think the only time ANYONE'S done it? please correct me if i am wrong but i was so shocked it got a big laugh out of me. also a rare w for picard. if he made bald jokes more often i'd hate him less maybe
the wire (ds9)
ooohhhhhhhhhhhh my god. oh my GOD. let's fucking...get into it
i rly thot garak was just a guy but not only is he a former assassin he's a current junkie. A JUNKIE! he's just like me fr
also, he can act? like that scene where he was withdrawing and saying horrible shit to julian......i was on the edge of my seat.
i love that he gave us 3 different stories about how he got kicked out. i'm gonna be honest, i looked it up, and apparently we never find out the truth? that is a bold fucking move. a daring choice. we, like julian, will never have any certainty. like, sure, i WANT to believe he released some kids from being tortured, but it's also equally as likely that he killed civilians or did a number of other horrible things
like, the fact that he can lie about it even while under significant distress.........king. like you could say oh that's the true one because that's the one where he was physically unwell but he also referred to "elim" in that one which gives it the ring of a potential falsehood
julian forgiving him anyway, even after all the horrible stuff he said, even after being physically ATTACKED (WHICH WAS SCARY!!! i was scared of him!!!!!) for "whatever he did," just because garak said "i need to know someone forgives me"..........AUGHGHGH JESUS CHRIST
THE FACT THAT HE WON'T TALK ABOUT IT. he won't tell even US what he did. eliot spencer core actually. i am beside myself about it all
maybe he's right and it is all true. maybe he destroyed a ship and framed a friend AND let some kids go. it's literally none of business though like he's not gonna tell us
anyway, i heard the term "brain implant" and nearly died on the spot, so 10/10 episode
honestly, they should have just upgraded this guy to a regular. he is so good
NEXT TIME: tng's "emergence" and ds9's "crossover" AND YES I KNOW THAT'S MIRRORVERSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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** CLOSED **
i scream, you scream, we all scream for the corn. it's my favorite time of year : the halloween event !! it's gonna be hell, but we're all here together. if you're scared in the maze, we can hold hands or something, but you're gonna have to like this for plots !! or reply for starters , since this is a combination plotting call and starter call! the cap is three starters per writer, so i can get through everyone, and you HAVE TO SPECIFY or i'll literally ignore you i'm so sorry but i will! below you'll get a vibe check for all my babes of how they're feeling in the corn, if they were going in willingly or dragged, as well as potential plots!
** in the meantime about pre event prep : i will be going through and dropping so many threads unless they are plot relevant. if i drop something that you wanted to keep, let me know, but otherwise we can pick things back up in the corn!
branwen || acotar ( 3 / 5 )
she/her pronouns - willingly, thought it'd be fun really, but immediately freaking out and having a bad time. she tried to fly out instantly, but couldn't and somehow that has only made it worse. doesn't know how to fight, and will be hiding in the corn
potential plots ➛ open for death and maiming, the person she went into the maze with, someone to help her calm down, someone who can keep her safe, friends :)))
starters : rhysand, amren, emily fields
daniela dimitrescu || resident evil : village ( 1 / 5 )
she/they pronouns - willingly, every time something wild happens in the city, dani is there. they absolutely love this shit and will become a horror of the maze. come have fun with them and enjoy the scary shit. or get fucked up by her idk, your call :))
potential plots ➛ open for death and maiming, as well as murdering, who she went into the maze with, other villains, people she can torment, someone to get her to Chill Out
starters : felicia hardy
elain archeron || acotar ( 2 / 5 )
she/her pronouns - dragged in via magic, there was no way anyone was going to talk her into going in there. she has a bad feeling about that place, and honestly i wanna play with elain's seer abilities so i think she's starting to see things again and will not!! be going in there!! until the magic drags her in
potential plots ➛ open for death and maiming , someone to find her freaking out, someone she has a vision about, a group of people that she can stick with to stay safe, maybe someone she saves
starters : eloise bridgerton, princess tiana
kaya dura || star wars ( 2 / 5 )
they/she pronouns - willingly, thought it'd be fun to take their mind off things, now they wish they were unaware again nvm. would actually like to leave very quickly, this is bad and they are still just getting used to their memories again. will be full on jedi knight vibes though, putting themselves in harms way to keep others safe etc etc
potential plots ➛ open for death and maiming , whoever they went into the maze with, people they can keep safe, someone to help them because i know they're gonna get their ass kicked
starters : kasil monsula, heather chandler
leia organa || star wars ( 5 / 5 )
she/her pronouns - dragged in, WHY TF COULDN'T THIS HAPPEN WHILE SHEEV WAS IN CHARGE WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPEN WHEN SHE'S BACK IN CHARGE there was no way leia was going into that maze, not at all, not until the magic fully dragged her in there and now she's stuck and would very much like to leave. she's not good being ?? captured. but will do her best to keep her family and the citizens she comes across safe. nervous about using the force at all since Everything™ but she's trying
potential plots ➛ someone who was there when she got dragged into the maze, people she can save
starters : mags flannagan, patia por'co, han solo, angelica schyler, breha organa
louise vance || harry potter ( 2 / 5 )
she/they pronouns - willingly, LITERALLY RAN IN THERE THOUGHT ItD BE FUN. *narrator voice* "it was not fun". starting to wonder if you actually need magic to survive this city, how is it more dangerous than back home?? will be doing whatever they can to find their siblings and making a run for it even if it's useless.
potential plots ➛ open for death and maiming, whoever they went into the maze with, someone to find them trying to fight off a monster with a pocket knife, friends to make the best of this shitty situation
starters : emmeline vance, jin ling
marlene mckinnon || harry potter ( 5 / 5 )
she/they pronouns - willingly, went in to "check it out" thinks she can keep ppl safe from inside, say it with me : delulu. truly out here thinking they can just fight their way through all of this and they sure as fuck cannot. please someone come watch her get humbled
potential plots ➛ open for death and maiming, whoever they went into the maze with, people they can keep safe, someone who can help her when she gets in over her head
starters : stitch, fliss mckinnon, james potter, lily evans, dorcas meadowes
morrigan || acotar ( 2 / 5 )
she/her pronouns - dragged in, saw her other friends were in there and like hell was she letting any of them go in alone. will be trying to stick close to all of them, main focus is finding the inner circle cause if someone gets hurt and she can't help, she'll flip. this place sucks pls why cant she winnow out, please someone give her a shot she needs it
potential plots ➛ open for death and maiming, someone who was there when she got dragged in, people also wanting to get drunk in the maze, people who need help
starters : laudna, tamlin
omega || star wars ( 4 / 5 )
she/they pronouns - willingly, RAN IN THERE, she loves halloween pls this looked fun and now it's hell and where the fuck is their bow. they really just thought it'd be fun and they could have a little haunted maze fun and now they're pretty sure they're gonna die in here.
potential plots ➛ open for death and maiming, whoever they went DRAGGED into the maze, who wants to fight gritty with them
starters : jill roberts, freddie fecilier, hunter, mouse honrada
pj halliwell || charmed '98 ( 3 / 5 )
she/they pronouns - willingly, but will tell you they were dragged in, went to have some spooky fun and now they're saving the innocent !!! isnt that just the way!!
potential plots ➛ open for death and maiming, if you need help she's your gal, someone they dragged into this
starters : tamora mitchell, melinda halliwell, childe
rosemary winters || resident evil : village ( 2 / 5 )
she/they pronouns - dragged in, you couldn't catch rose in that maze for a million bucks, that had BAD VIBES and now they're stuck!!!!!!!!! will be FREAKING out , seriously they were okay , they didn't want to be here and now they have to use their powers again when all they want is to be Normal
potential plots ➛ open for death and maiming , someone they can use their powers to help (or harm by accident), whoever dragged them in, someone to join her in being A Coward for a little bit
starters : mia winters, evie winters
rowena ravenclaw || harry potter ( 4 / 5 )
she/her pronouns - dragged in, tbh she thinks she'd be able to solve the maze too easily so she didn't think it'd be any fun to actually go in and make the builders feel bad. but now that she's in here she's so intrigued by the magic she isn't even scared she just wants to study it. like a nerd.
potential plots ➛ open for death and maiming, whoever dragged her in, people she can talk to about being so interested in this place, or someone she can talk out of being scared
starters : hunter, slyvie slytherin, salazar slytherin, calleigh duquesne
sella palpatine || star wars ( 3 / 5 )
she/her pronouns - willingly, PLEASE ONE NORMAL DATE JUST ONE, she thought it'd be a cute fall date, take some cute instagram pictures with allana, kiss in the corn a little and just have a cute moment BUT NOOOOOOOOOO
potential plots ➛ open for death and maiming, people she can be a coward with, someone to help her figure out how to shoot a gun lmao, someone who will let her hide behind them
starters : sion val palpatine, allana solo, soren palpatine
sophie hatter || howl's moving castle ( 3 / 5 )
she/they pronouns - dragged in, this sucks, they hate it, they want to go home why did they let themselves get talked into going into this!!!! they just immediately got lost and now are stuck here!!!!! their sense of direction is AWFUL and now they're paying for it. pls help
potential plots ➛ open for death and maiming, people who are also lost, someone who has a way better sense of direction than her, someone they can help with reassuring mom vibes
starters : james norrington, gu zi, qi rong
tatum riley || scream '96 ( 3 / 5 )
she/her pronouns - dragged in, no way in hell you could have gotten her into that maze without bribery. and will be spending the whole time going "i told you so" to this whole place being scary and spooky as hell
potential plots ➛ whoever dragged her into this, people she can yell at, other people who are not trusting of any of this, someone who wants to fight monsters with her
starters : sam carpenter, billy loomis, dewey riley
vesta starkos || star wars ( 3 / 5 )
she/her pronouns - willingly, this seemed fun and now that it's scary??? THATS EVEN BETTER. will be a menace to everyone they bump into. will try to fight every monster, genuinely just having a great time like the menace of a child they are.
potential plots ➛ open for death and maiming, someone they can bully for being "scared" , people they can fight, anyone who wants to fight them etc
starters : kaiden monsula, qui gon jinn, gabriel
victoria sutherland || twilight ( 3 / 5 )
she/her pronouns - willingly, mainly went in bc it's easy to grab a bite in these kinds of places. hide a body in the corn, who's gonna know. now is just bored, she doesn't really want to get into any big fights and will mainly be avoiding the monsters by just being a monster herself
potential plots ➛ open to murder or maim, people who make this seem more fun for her
starters : bree tanner, laurent da revin, anne sutherland
violet sorrengail || fourth wing ( 4 / 5 )
she/her pronouns - willingly, okay she made a bad call going into this place!!! she thought it'd be chill and fun and now it's ABSOLUTELY ANYTHING BUT but it's fine, we're fine, they've trained for this????? it'll be fine.
potential plots ➛ open for death and maiming, someone she can help, people she can freak out with before finding an actual solution
starters : ki yuri, nami, xaden riorson, jeon pildo
#hw: starter call#hw: plot call#long post tw#this once again has no fucking need to be this long#but i love having all my information in one place cause i can be Organized#if you actually read all of this ily
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Some long time ago
Dura: Hey brother, look! *shows one of the earliest celestial heroes like*
Annih: ...So you started a cult?
Dura: What!? No! I'm just showing you what I created. I called it the Celestial!
Annih: Hm... what are you up to?
Dura: I have a suggestion!
Annih:...*sigh* What suggestion?
(Headcanons up ahead, also thanks @theproperweirdo for the idea)
Annih: So let me get this straight. You want to prove your faction that a celestial and a hypogean could "possible" get along.
Dura: Exactly! This would help for the other factions to also get along
Annih: But why can't YOU tell them instead? Aren't you Esperia's favorite god?
Dura: I want them to make their own decisions instead of order them around for my sake
Annih: Is that why you'll be leaving in the future?
Dura: Yes...
Annih: Just remember, you need to come back some day to fix your own mess. To make things more interesting, how about a bet?
Dura: A bet?
Annih: If a celestial and a hypogean become more than just friends, you'll have to come back. Plus 100 gold
Dura: Okay, I promise
__________________________________________________________________________
Yeah, I know that is not how it happened, but Lilith isn't focusing on the lore, so I'ma do it myself.
____________________________________________________________________________
Small headcanons
Not only did Gavus and Eugene end up together, as well as Baden and Thane. A celestial and hypogean, a lightbearer and graveborn. So that means Dura owes Annih 200 gold once she comes back
Eugene perhaps was created to be more decent with just a small portion of Annih's blood so that he can get along with his celestial soulmate
I believe that Dura got tired of how she had to fix everyone's problem. Which is why she created the celestials to look after Esperia, but even some of them still didn't understand Dura's word
If Lilith plans to finish the lore, Dura and Annih finally become playable (maybe like awaken heores) possible even get new designs 🤔 since it's been a long time
Dura could be the eldest, while Annih is the youngest. Or maybe born the same time.
If the Esperia people think Annih is terrible they say, then there almost right, only Annih knows how Dura can be scary if she wants to. Not even the celestials know
In all honesty, Annih isn't bothered all the trash talk. He's just doing his job as the God of Dead
Dura cares for her brother as he knows her more than anyone
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Wild Eyes
Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam, Batman Rogues
Summary: This is an AU where Jason ends up in Peña Dura with Bane after stowing away on a boat trying to escape Gotham.
Chapters: 1/?
Characters: Bane DC, Jason Todd, Birdy, Bruce Wayne
Additional Tags: Parent Bane (DCU), Canon Divergent AU, Father-Son Relationship, Jason Todd is Not Red Hood, Unconventional Families, Emotional Hurt/Comfort
Chapter One: Peña Dura
I was twenty-two when someone smuggled a castaway into my home. The prison. He was a child. Most men would've thought the child was better off dead, but I thought differently. If he could survive the waters that brought him to Santa Prisca, he'd more than earned the right to receive help. I refused to let him die. "He won't make it through the night," Bird whispered, "I don't know why you waste your time—."
"I spend my days as I please," I whispered as I tended to the child's wounds. "And I disagree... He'll live. You'll see." The child burned with fever, but I would not give up on him.
The child opened his eyes briefly, grabbing my wrist with both hands as he opened his mouth. He wanted to speak to me. Tell me something... But he lost consciousness. He struggled against his sickness for days, and everyone believed he would succumb to his fever. I knew different.
My clothes swallowed him, but I was sure they'd keep him warm through the night. I slept on the floor beside my bed, waking at his every shiver and whine. I woke him up for breakfast and tried to push him to eat. "No—."
"Eat," I commanded. The boy grabbed my wrist with both hands. The look in his eye was unlike anything I'd ever seen before. Wild. Untamed. Fierce.
Lightning struck the prison, knocking the power out, and we sat in my cell, staring at one another. His hair plastered against his forehead as illness seeped through his flesh. He wanted to speak. To protest. In the dark of my cell, it was the child's will against my own, and he was unafraid. "Pain," the boy whispered through clenched teeth, and then he released me from his grip. The boy lost consciousness, and my breath returned to me.
"He's not going to make it, Bane," Bird muttered.
"He'll live. I saw it in his eyes," I replied. My eyes were still fixed on the child. "He's stubborn."
And I was right. The boy fought his fever for several days, and on the fourth morning since his arrival, I felt his eyes. I turned to see him standing behind me, reading over my shoulder. "I've read it before... Would you like me to start from the beginning?" I offered. His legs gave, and I caught him. "Sit with me... You're still weak."
He didn't fight with me or protest. Instead, the boy sat quietly on my knee while I read the book aloud from the beginning. Halfway through the first chapter, I received my meal, and we ate together. "I'm Jason… Sorry for eating your food," Jason whispered.
"It's nothing," I replied. Jason was too small to eat a meal by himself. He was no burden to me in that respect.
I liked him. I wanted him to see that. "Where do you come from?"
"Gotham... Where am I?" Jason asked.
"Santa Prisca... Peña Dura," I answered, "You're far from home... When I get to Gotham someday, who should I return you to?"
"I don't have anybody to go home to," Jason mumbled, "But maybe I could show you around when you get there." I smiled.
"I would have it no other way, my friend," I replied.
"What's your name?" Jason asked.
"Bane. What is your name?" I questioned.
"Jason... I'm eleven years old," Jason paused, staring into my eyes before he continued. "And you're the man who saved my life."
"Jason, I didn't do anything. You fought for your life... And you won," I replied.
We talked for hours that day. He told me about movies and music and buildings so ancient, so ornate, and arcane that they seemed like a thing of dreams. Jason intrigued me. I think he intrigued Bird as well. "My church is so huge, and the windows are stained glass... They finally got the bell fixed-. Are you Catholic?" Jason wondered.
"My faith is nothing compared to yours," I replied, "But I suppose I am."
"God doesn't compare... He only loves," Jason whispered. His words were pure. Untainted by ulterior motives or feigned kindness. Jason meant what he said... And it gave me comfort.
*
As the months passed, Jason and I were inseparable. He imitated my behaviors, learned my ways, and with time, I shared my innermost thoughts with him. Jason understood that prison was only a state of mind. He never verbalized this belief, but his actions showed me he could not be imprisoned. Jason was free.
“My church has fruit trees as far as the eye can see and horses roaming free… There’s a lake, and the nuns are all kind. They smile a lot,” Jason whispered.
"My church is a home for all the children the world forgot. My church has no locks or gates. My church is freedom and warmth,” I whispered as Jason curled into a ball beside me. It was a game we played together at night. We described imaginary churches. I suppose most people would’ve thought I kept Jason around as a form of entertainment, but I didn’t. I’d grown to love him as a father would love a son, and I was unwilling to turn him away. He would be beside me in the world I built. He would be the prince of a new era in Gotham. The son they discarded like trash would rise above and become king.
“You don’t belong in prison. You would’ve made a good foster father,” Jason whispered. I looked at him for clarification. “A foster father… When kids lose their parents or when parents lose their kids-. They’re temporary family placements until kids could go home, or sometimes kids that don’t go home get adopted, and the foster family becomes their real family.”
“Could I have been your foster father?” I questioned. “Would you have wanted that?”
“Of course, I would’ve. I would’ve been lucky to have you around. I never would’ve run away if I had somebody like you,” Jason replied, “You’re nicer to me than my father was. Your church sounds like a good foster home...”
“I’d like you to be my son,” I whispered. They were the only words that managed to escape my mouth. Jason looked up at my expression and nodded.
“I’d like you to be my father,” Jason replied, shutting his eyes. I pulled my blanket over his shoulders. “I love you, Bane.”
I swallowed his words. Love. And he meant it. Unselfish love. “And I love you,” I whispered.
Jason drifted away sweetly beside me while I sat beside him, planning. I would rebuild Gotham for both of us. A place where he would never be cold or afraid or forgotten. Gotham would be our church. I moved his curls from his face, watching his expression soften. His chest rose and fell with every breath, and he murmured something in his sleep like a prayer.
#fic#wild eyes fic#batfam#batman rogues#Bane DC#Jason Todd#Birdy#Bruce Wayne#Parent Bane (DCU)#Canon Divergent AU#Father-Son Relationship#Jason Todd is Not Red Hood#Unconventional Families#Emotional Hurt/Comfort
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Okay, I'm interesting in asking you - maybe not those questions from the list, but still.
Three favourite French books
Three French books you don't like at all
Three favourite non-French books
Three non-French books you don't like at all
(I'm asking because recently my brother and I watched the second part of 'Les Trois Mousquetaires', and since the French culture was always very popular here in Russia it's interesting to talk about it with someone from inside, so to speak - so I hope you don't mind me asking)
And now something about 'Sherlock':
Why have you decided to watch this series?
Three favourite episodes
Three episodes you don't like
Three favourite characters
Three characters you can't stand
Three favourite actors
Three actors who were not that impressive in your opinion
What do you think about Mollcroft?
What do you think about Euriarty?
If you could meet someone from the cast and crew, who would it be? (here you can pick only one person, sorry)
So, I think it's enough for today, he-he. Sorry that it is such a long list - you are of course free to ignore the questions you don't like. It's not about the fanfiction though, but I am a very wicked creature when it comes to asking questions ;)
Hey!
Those questions are very nice and made me question my memory ;) I'll answer as best as I can.
Three favorite books: Belle du Seigneur of Albert Cohen, L'assommoir of Émile Zola (and almost of all his books actually) and Marguerite duras: L'amant. I chose these three because they marked my life and memory the most, but there are plenty of others I could have said.
Three French books I don't like at all: sorry I can think only of two: Le rouge et le noir of Stendhal (I never even finished it it was sooo boring), and La peste of Albert Camus. Both are considered masterpieces bu neither worked for me.
Three favorite non French books: The Sandman by Neil Gaiman, Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka, Pillars of the earth by ken Follett. Again I could have said many others!
Three non French books I don't like at all: Why I ate my father by Roy Lewis (mostly because we were forced to read it for school and I never understood what in the story or the writing style justified this choice of reading), Fifty shades of Grey (I read the ten first pages but had to drop it), and Dracula by Bram Stoker.
Now the Sherlock questions:
Why did I decide to watch this series: honestly, only because I had heard about the shipping drama and the accusations of queerbaiting, and I was curious to see if the shippers were delusional or if they were really baited. I think you know what's my opinion now :) anyway I started for this and continued because it was really good.
Three favorite episodes: A study in pink, The Great Game and I hesitate between The Empty Hearse and The Abominable Bride :)
Three episodes I like the less (can't say I don't like them at all): The blind banker, The hound of Baskerville and The Six Thatchers.
Three favorite characters: Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft Holmes and Molly Hooper
Three characters I can't stand: uhh idk... the American in ASIB, Philip Anderson (only after he became Sherlock's #1 pathetic fanboy) and well, Eurus Holmes even though I want to have more empathy for her.
Three favorite actors: Benedict Cumberbatch, Louise Brealey and Mark Gatiss
Three actors who weren't that impressive in my opinion: honesty, I can't think of one. I think the entire cast is very good.
Sorry, not much. I'm not a ship person and I'd rather imagine canon characters with OCs rather than with other canon characters they don't interact at all :/
Same, not much. I know it's less theorical than Mollcroft and I found their scenes funny, but I wouldn't read or write fanfiction centered on them.
I guess it would be Mark Gatiss because not only he plays Mycroft but he also co-wrote the show :)
I hope my answers are ok :) Thanks for the ask!
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HSH Febuwhump Day 7 - Alt: Soft Words
“Made to Watch” wasn’t inspiring me tbh. I typed out like maybe 100 words about two of the guys being captured and the usual interrogation scene of making one of them watch the other being hurt. But like, it wasn’t really doing it for me. Soft Words didn’t really inspire me either but it fits this better.
Also I won’t lie - I did just want to follow up from yesterdays story. I am not sorry.
-----
Hyrule watches the screen intently.
With every hum of the MRI another layer of tissue is revealed. Hyrule stares at the red and yellow imaging, eyes narrowing at the lighter contrasts that grow between the brain and the dura. His colleague, a young Gerudo neurosurgeon, scribbles something in her notes.
“It looks like it’s localized to the cerebellum.” She says, eyes on his clipboard. “The rounded structure indicates it’s clotted. No sign of dead tissue. We need to check the ICP as soon as possible. I’ll have a catheter prepped.”
“If it's a clot we won’t be able to drain it.” Hyrule says, still watching the screen. In the other room, the MRI rumbles to a halt. Nurses pull on gloves and get ready to take the patient back to his room.
“I know. It’s just for monitoring and draining CSF if needed.” She flips through her chart, tongue peeking out in concentration. “I’ll consult the senior director about getting this pushed. For now get him started on 10mg of carbamazepine. He may have compromised motor function so tell him to stay in bed.”
She adds that last bit just as they watch Four try to convince the nurses to let him walk back to his room instead of being wheeled there.
Hyrule can feel his blood pressure rise.
Hyrule thanks his colleague and grabs a copy of the scan. He lets himself into the MRI room and marches up to his small friend amidst the nurses. “Just get on the gurney, Four.”
The doctor doesn’t let Four argue. He practically manhandles the mechanic into bed himself, letting his frustration show on his face. Both the nurses and Four recoil at the look. Legend always does tell him it's the easiest way to get everyone to listen to him.
The trip back to Four’s room is short, just one elevator and a walk down the busy hospital corridors. Hyrule doesn’t say anything and neither does Four. The blonde keeps his head down, cowed by Hyrule’s oppressive aura. His hair hangs loose and hides his face, free of it’s usual headband. Four’s colorful clothing has been replaced by a simple blue hospital gown.
When they get back to the room the only ones in it are Time and Twilight. The rest of the household had been banished at Four’s request. Something about medical privacy. As if such a concept applies to their household. Wind was probably already in the hospital database, waiting for Four’s medical chart to get digitized. The others would know all the details soon enough. But that’s a separate issue. As the patient, Four has the privilege of picking and choosing who’s allowed to be in the room.
Twilight perks up immediately. Time stays where he is, looming in the corner near the door. Hyrule lets the nurses push Four’s bed into position and sets up the MRI scans on the lightboard across from the bed. Twilight, who’s seated in the chair beside the bed, anxiously leans forward at the sight of the scans. Time, on the other hand, remains unmoved by anything and stands still, face stony.
“Thank you, Indrea. Can you talk to Jenni about the pre-op treatment? Doctor Malena has the details.” The Zora nurse nods happily and excuses herself, leaving the Hyrule alone to explain.
The doctor can feel their anxious eyes on him. Time’s gaze is especially heavy. Hyrule takes a breath and flicks on the lightbox, illuminating the scans.
Hyrule doesn’t hesitate. “So, after running a few tests, me and our local neurosurgeon have concluded that Four has a chronic subdural hematoma. It’s an unusual condition for someone young but there have been other cases before. And we do know you’ve suffered an TBI, which is usually a leading factor so that checks out. Right now it’s localized in the posterior fossa-”
“Hyrule, please for the love of the goddess-” Twilight begs.
Right. “Chronic subdural hematoma. That means there’s a collection of blood under the dural layer of your skull.” The doctor points to a lightly colored blob on the diagram of Four’s brain. See this, right here? That's a blood clot. It’s formed from old blood that hasn’t cleared away. Think of it like a bruise but the blood was never reabsorbed back into your body.”
Twilight pales. “In his brain?”
“No,” Hyrule stops that line of thought before anyone panics, “No. Not exactly. It’s bleeding under the skull, but above the surface of the brain.”
He changes slides to show a better diagram to explain. “There’s space between the skull and brain that’s filled with liquid that helps protect the brain called cerebrospinal fluid. That’s where the blood clot is.”
Hyrule looks Four. “The bridging veins in that layer were damaged when you hit your head. We didn’t notice back then because it's chronic as opposed to acute. Meaning it’s a slow bleed. The blood mass has been accumulating with time as the veins kept leaking. This blood mass, which has semi-coagulated, has been growing. Slowly putting more and more pressure on your brain as it fills the space. That’s why your symptoms have been getting worse with time, not better.”
Four grimaces, redirecting his eyes to the board to avoid Hyrule’s gaze. His fingers pick at the hospital sheets.
“And you’re sure this is from Happy’s men?” Twilight doesn’t sound convinced. He glances nervously at his uncle, who remains blank faced. “That was a long time ago. If it’s been bleeding this whole time…”
“Hence the word ‘chronic’. Something like this can go unnoticed for some time.” Or ignored, in this case. And boy, is Hyrule going to yell at Four for this. He’s got a thirty minute lecture already planned out. With excel slides and everything. But it’ll wait until after Four's recovery. He doesn't want to cause any stress before the procedure. “It’s grown large enough that it’s now compressing against your cerebellum. This is probably what triggered the seizure. You’ve also been taking OTC pain meds, some of which act as blood thinners. This may have exacerbated the issue, too.”
“Is this-?” Hyrules eyes flicker to Time when the man cuts himself off. There’s something deep in his eye, a deep well of some emotion he refuses to share. His jaw is tense.
Hyrule can’t be certain, but he’s got an idea of what Time might be thinking.
“It’s treatable,” Hyrule assures him, looking back at Four. “It’s going to require surgery to remove but you should be okay. There’s no sign of brain tissue damage so far and my friend Doctor Malena, your neurosurgeon, is going to push to get this done quickly.”
Time’s shoulders drop minutely.
Four squirms uneasily. His eyes flicker over the scans. He wets his lips, speaking for the first time. “What… What kind of surgery are we talking about?”
“She’s speaking to the department head about it right now, but we’re thinking it’s probably going to be a craniotomy.” Hyrule explains, taking a seat on the edge of Fours bed. “Doctor Malena will explain it more in detail to you later when everything is finalized. But basically it’s when a section of the skull is temporarily removed to give access to the brain cavity. After the problem is fixed, in this case the clot is removed, the bone is replaced and resealed.”
Four recoils, eyes widening. “She’s going to cut into my head?”
Twilight does too, looking particularly pale after Hyrule mentioned removing a section of his skull. “Seriously? Is this safe? Because it doesn’t sound safe.”
Hyrule smiles at them both comfortingly. Bedside manor, Hyrule. You can do it. “It’s not as scary as it sounds, I promise. In terms of head surgery this is actually fairly safe, since we won’t go any deeper than the surface of the brain. No insertions or anything regarding actual greymatter. The most she’ll do is seal up the veins that are causing the problem. But again, that’s not touching the brain.”
“Isn’t there another option? Medication, or something?” This is probably the closest thing to pleading Hyrule has ever heard from Four.
Hyrule pats his arm comfortingly. “Sorry, but we don’t have any good options other than surgery. If we’d caught this earlier then maybe. But as it is, we really can’t wait. We’d be risking real damage if we put it off for too long. And any medication we could give you would be mostly experimental.”
Four groans and drops back into his pillows. He grabs one and covers his face with it. “Fuck.”
-----
I have never watched even one (1) episode of Greys Anatomy idk how doctors talk please be nice to me i had to google ‘medical terms for x’ 1000 times today
WebMd tells me chronic subdural hematomas usually cause fatal problems in weeks, not months. But this is my story and I get to pick the amount of time Four can go without dying.
But yeah, I thought it would be fun to take Four’s change in demeanor into a more physical road, rather than what it probably is. Its also a product of me thinking Stormy said he was having headaches. But it turns out she never said that and it was a creation of my own brain lmao. She just said he was quieter. I might continue this but also maybe not. We shall see.
#HSH au#Townhouse au#HSH Four#HSH Hyrule#HSH Time#poor time feels guilt yet again#also damn tumblr does not like medical terms#half this is underlined in red#Febuwhump 2023
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Story of Sen
My name is Sen, I've lived in Dura for my whole life. Due to the mistrust many have for Changelings, I've done my best to keep my true self secret from all -though, that's never stopped me from keeping my multiple identities-. Growing up poor, I learned pretty quickly that if I ever wanted something, I had to get it myself. At least. That's what "The Family" Always told me.
"The Family '' being the crime ring that forcibly adopted me as their own, and raised me to be their perfect pick-pocketing puppet. The only reason I stayed was because the boss knew what I am, and the many identities I went by prior to and during my criminal involvement.
It wasn't til recently that I worked up the courage to take a stand. My whole life I've craved freedom, and while under "The Family" I'd be safe, I'd never be free. So I went to the boss, and after failing to work out a deal that'd allow him to keep his life, and my secrets, I stole both from him and made my escape.
Still not as free as I'd hoped, I spend my time adventuring and working for a better future for myself, and maybe even other Changelings too.
Writers note: so, this is the little DnD story I was talking about! It's one of my favorite, more serious characters. I'm really proud of how the little backstory turned out.
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voyager 1x14 Faces was........ bad.......
why would taking the klingon or human genes out of b'elanna completely change who she is??? like I get that her klingon self would be physically stronger, and maybe her human self might have to become accustomed to feeling more fear, but like. come on, her klingon self talked in a completely different way, as if she were grilka or the duras sisters or like some other klingon raised by klingons, like there's no way genetics is what causes klingons to talk so haltingly, and her Klingon self uses klingon words!!! we've literally never seen her use any klingon before this
and her klingon self wanting to punch her way out??? they both have the same memories, she should have the same idea about contacting the ship
and then by having her human self in the starfleet uniform and then the writers KILLING her klingon self at the end, it comes off as the writer's saying humans are more rational than klingons, I just got weird vibes from the whole episode, like it gives the message that you are your genes (as if there aren't klingon scientists or short-tempered humans)
#voyager faces 1x14#i would have been fine if they fused together at the end and had more stuff about them both needing each other#star trek voyager#voyager#faces#voyager 1x14#naomi watches voy#first episode so far i havent liked#also how tf does a whole ass new body get made by making her a 'pure' klingon#b'elanna torres#and i haven't watched the next episode yet but how does putting klingon genes back into her bring her forehead ridges back lol#unless she gets them surgically placed#i just hope they dont gloss over it#knowing star trek though.....#voy
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Blood of the Basilisk Chapter 12
Frustrated as she is it sounds like Nadani's combat training is going great.
THE FUCKING MIND READING/VIBE SHARING OF IT ALL THOUGH! HELLO?! WHAT!?
Did she sense Kota's thoughts? Have they bonded in some way and not realised? Is it just how semidaem and draconic magic works in a sorta similar way? Did Pyter do a thing? What the fucks up!?
I'm here for it but oooh boy is it going to raise some difficult questions as things go on, especially if Kota hems and haws about telling Nadani what is up after she gets a theory in place. It'd probably have Nadani second guessing how much of her thoughts and feelings around Kota have been her own. I wonder if it goes both ways...
Pyter is very adorable when he is being a cuddly critter.
I think Nadani really really needs a day out of the house to herself now that Kota is semi mobile and can about make it to a privy by herself. Just to go socialise with people out of the household, maybe find some non-Guthrie people that she can use as a way of measuring Kota's perceived possessive over-protectiveness better.
Also I can't wait to meet Dura. It's very cool (but such a fucking subterranean bar) that Kota knows her name even if they haven't had a chance to talk yet. Kota sounds like an excellent employer, but also the type you'd have to have a very specific personality to work for because she's such a lowkey walking disaster even if she is self aware.
As I always do with Molly's books I am immensely enjoying the fact that people fucking well communicate as best as they are able. It's nice seeing that Kota and Nadani can frankly discuss the fact that Kota is attracted to her, and her Kota verbally acknowledge that she knows Nadani doesn't need (or really want) that sort of attention right now and so doesn't intend to try and act on her desire in any way (we'll see how long that lasts, but I imagine she'll hold strong until Nadani decides if she wants to make a move. I guess we'll see).
I love that Kota's almost visibly out of her depth trying to be friends with Nadani, because she's got that hat trick of being a gay disaster, being isolated by her power, and still a little caught up in being a caretaker without seeing how that makes it a little hard to be equals, and then Nadani is feeling similarly unprepared to be friends and feels she needs to learn how friendships work, but somehow these idiots are doing it anyways and have hardly realised. Truly a top tier ship dynamic honestly. Very "if you're back here talking to me, and I'm back here talking to you, who is flying the plane?" sorta energy but with a hearty helping of "my jagged edges sorta fit your jagged edges, lets help each other round things out."
#chirping wren#blood of the basilisk#nadani botb#kota botb#pyter botb#sapphic fiction#fantasy#lesbian fiction#queer fiction#time to go do a cooking and then once I have food i can read more
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Title: Get What You Need (Ao3)
Rating: Teen and Up
Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Vento Aureo
Pairing(s): GioMis or Giorno & Mista (Platonic or Pre-Relationship)
Summary: “All of them,” Giorno breathes the words in a near rush of panic. His stomach turns at merely hearing the list. His resolve crumbles in an instant, and it’s only worsened when he makes the mistake of looking down at his hands, clasped together in his lap. He picks idly at the cuticle of one thumb with the nail of the other in a desperate attempt to keep himself calm. The more worked up he gets, the worse the cramps are, and they’re already rolling through him too often to be ignored.
Notes: Trigger Warnings: Dysphoria; Gio experiences quite a bit of it, and it's not very nice.
Guess who had a period from hell.
Trigger Warnings: Gender dysphoria! Giorno struggles with it quite a bit throughout the fic.
1. Bucci's also trans, 2. Polnareff is alive (so is everyone else for that matter.), and 3. Bruno being trans is not a secret/Mista isn't actually outing him here.
-
“I would like to rearrange a few meetings,” Giorno says, choosing his words carefully, so he can gauge Polnareff’s reaction.
Without missing a beat, Polnareff answers, “Of course. Which were you interested in moving? There’s the two after lunch, the one with Dura at three, and Abba-”
“All of them,” Giorno breathes the words in a near rush of panic. His stomach turns at merely hearing the list. His resolve crumbles in an instant, and it’s only worsened when he makes the mistake of looking down at his hands, clasped together in his lap. He picks idly at the cuticle of one thumb with the nail of the other in a desperate attempt to keep himself calm. The more worked up he gets, the worse the cramps are, and they’re already rolling through him too often to be ignored.
Polnareff looks momentarily surprised, but he schools his expression quickly and reaches underneath his chair to where he keeps a notebook safely tucked away. He pulls his pen from the spiral binding and looks to Giorno with sheer determination.
“Any-- preferences? On when I reschedule these to?”
“Two or three days from now at the earliest,” Giorno knows it’s risky. A bad idea at best and a great way to destroy several very fragile relationships at worst, but he’s reaching a breaking point. His eyes are already burning, and he can’t ignore the hopeless feeling gripping him any more than he can ignore the way blood continues to fill the pad he’s wearing. He’s too hyper-aware of both, and there’s nothing worse than showing weakness in front of a pack of dogs, most of whom were raised by the streets in some form or fashion. With the exception, of course, of the nepotistic sort, though Giorno doesn’t generally think much of them. They’re certainly not the threat that the others can be when left unchecked.
Polnareff, to his credit, only nods and makes a note of the request. He pauses a moment, clearly chewing something over in his mind, and it’s likely only their close relationship that allows him to ask, “Are you alright?”
“I’ll be fine,” which is a non-answer, but it’s the best Polnareff is getting from him when he feels like this: weak, vulnerable. Disgusting. Wrong. If he could tear the skin off his body, he would.
Polnareff nods again. There’s a lingering look in his good eye that Giorno thinks might be concern. Possibly displeasure at being blatantly left in the dark when it’s Polnareff’s job to be as informed as possible, though the man says nothing of it and simply wishes Giorno well before departing from the office altogether. He uses Chariot to open the door for him and wheels away without any actual protest.
It’s all Giorno can do to hold his breath until the moment the door clicks shut, and he deflates immediately over the edge of his desk. He slumps forward on the wood and tries hard to bite back the quiet, senseless sobs that bubble up in his chest. It’s ridiculous. The whole thing is ridiculous. He should be able to handle this, even if it has been awhile. He can’t fall apart the moment his period decides to rear its ugly head as one of the worst reminders of what he isn’t. What he fails to be. Yet here he is, crying over his desk like a child, though his sobs are silent. Even now, years later, he hasn’t shaken that habit.
______
Mista startles out of his light doze thanks to a text. He flails about uselessly, arms smacking into the side door of the car before he remembers where he is (and who he’s with, if the short-tempered, “Watch it!”, is anything to go by). It takes him another moment to figure out where he left his phone, and it’s only because of Five that he finds it at all.
“Thanks, buddy,” he says as he pulls the screen up for the last message he received. He blinks in surprise at the body of the first text.
Meetings are canceled.
Under any other circumstance, Mista would be hooping and hollering in delight. Meetings being canceled means that Mista doesn’t have to stand around pointlessly for hours while some morons try to talk circles around Giorno of all people, but there’s a gnawing worry that grows in his gut. Giorno doesn’t cancel meetings unless he’s physically unable to be there. Usually when a mission has carried over and kept them from home for too long. The next text does little to quail his anxiety.
You should check in on him anyway.
Mista doesn’t need to be told who ‘him’ is, and he doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s already planning on it once they get back to the mansion.
______
Giorno extracts himself from his desk after a few more minutes of self-pity. There’s only so much of it he can stand at any given time. More importantly, he doesn’t want anyone to happen by before he has a chance to compose himself, which is exactly what he does. He pulls a small mirror from his desk and grimaces at the red, puffy eyes that look back at him.
He’s part way through fixing his hair when another cramp hits. Sharp and agonizing with the way it pierces through his middle and spreads outwards, toward his hips. He doubles over with his arms hugging around his middle. It’s instinct more than anything. God knows it doesn’t help alleviate the pain any.
It takes him a solid sixty seconds before he can work up the courage to unravel. He half expects the next wave to roll through him the moment he does, but there’s a blessed lack of follow up. For the time being. He doesn’t expect that to last. It never does.
His chest aches with the effort that it takes to keep his breathing even. The binder isn’t helping, but he’s not about to try to wiggle out of it in his office. His only option is to get himself up and back to his bedroom, but that sounds like a momentous task on it’s own. Somehow he has to get there without being brought to his knees by cramps or hit with another wave of despair or-- well, being perceived at all. One look at his face will give him away. Maybe they won’t know why, but they’ll know that something is wrong, and that’s bad enough.
He finally manages to get his hair to a presentable level again when someone knocks on the door to his office, and his heart drops down to his stomach. He glances back at the mirror one more time before shoving it in his desk. His eyes are definitely still puffy, though some of the redness has dissipated.
“Giorno?” Mista asks, poking the door open slightly when Giorno doesn’t immediately respond. It’s only then that Giorno realizes that his voice is caught in his throat, and he gets a second, far more concerned call of his name for his hesitance.
“I’m fine,” he says quickly. Too quickly. Mista might not read people as well as Bucciarati, but he’s still acutely aware of certain details (the ones that matter! Mista’s voice echoes in his head.)
“Uh,” Mista starts, a little lamely, but he quickly shakes off any reserves he has about being direct if his next words are anything to go by, “No offense, but you look like shit, so I’m pretty sure you’re not. Actually.”
Giorno falters slightly. He should have texted Mista after Polnareff left. Should have explained the situation in the vaguest possible terms. And definitely should have come up with an excuse. But he had done none of those things, and now he’s stuck with the repercussions of his own actions. Or inactions.
“It’s not important,” he tries. Pathetic as it is.
“You canceled all your meetings for today,” and Giorno supposes he set himself up for that. He hasn’t come up with an excuse yet, especially not one that adequately explains away his behavior.
Silence stretches between them. Giorno for lack of an answer, and Mista because he seems to expect Giorno to cave. To the Don’s great horror, he does just that.
“It really isn’t that big of a deal. I’m just--” only, before he can finish speaking, another cramp grabs hold and twists mercilessly until he’s gasping and leaning forward with both hands clenching at the edge of his desk. He closes his eyes, as if to shut out the pain, or possibly the reality of the situation as it registers in the back of his mind.
“Giorno!” Mista calls, loud and panicked. He lunges forward to close the gap between them, though he hesitates once he’s within touching distance. “Giorno?”
“I’m fine, just-- cramps,” Giorno confesses, grinding his teeth together as the next one rips through him. Equally as painful as the last and as impossible to ignore. He feels his cheeks burn the way his eyes are once again, and all he wants is to crawl under his desk and hide away from the world. It’s not often that he wishes he could be nobody again, but now is certainly one of those times.
“Cramps?” Mista asks with confusion evident in his voice, but then his eyes go wide. He scans Giorno over, as if that might give him the affirmative he needs. “Like Bucci’s?”
Giorno doesn’t actually know what that means, but he nods anyway. Close enough, and it means he doesn’t have to explain anything else.
“Okay, okay, shit--!” Mista sounds a bit more panicked now. More like how Giorno feels being flayed open like this in front of one of the people he actually cares about. Whose opinion actually means something to him. “God, he hasn’t had them in so long. Fuck, uh? Heat. Oh, and we should probably get you into something more comfortable. Have you taken anything?”
What?
Giorno’s mind skips and stutters into a complete stall. He’s not sure what Bucciarati has to do with anything, but he’s suddenly sure that the answer is more closely linked than he had originally thought.
“Gio?”
“Yes,” Giorno grinds out, because he did, though he’s nearing the end of the four hour period before he can take the next dose, and he’s tempted to swallow as much as he can fit into his fist. The damage is something he can deal with later. With his Stand, but he knows it won’t help. The efficacy of such medication is limited, but it hurts. It hurts, and he’s just outed himself to one of his closest friends with no warning. No preparation. Anxiety works its way up his throat, and he thinks, for a moment, that he might be sick.
“C’mon, let’s get you out of here,” Mista says, bringing Giorno back out of his thoughts and back into reality. He tugs gently at Giorno’s upper arm.
Giorno lets himself be pulled up to his feet with a sort of numbness spreading through him. For all the panic that’s coursing through his veins, there is one, lucid thought: Mista isn’t upset. He’s taken the news and simply rolled with it like it means nothing. Like it doesn’t change anything, and Giorno doesn’t know how to handle that, so he just lets himself be pulled along. Out from behind his desk and toward the office entrance.
From there it’s a long, impossible trek to Giorno’s bedroom. One that requires breaks for the cramps that won’t let him off so easily. For a moment, he wishes it were a bullet tearing apart his insides. That, at least, he could do something about, but cramps are something else entirely. Using GE won’t get him anywhere. In fact, he’s pretty sure it’s made it worse in the past, when he’s tried out of pure desperation.
“I’m going to go grab a heating pad,” Mista starts once they reach Giorno’s bedroom, “You should get changed into something less-- tight. Got any stretchy pants?”
“My pajamas,” Giorno answers, more because it seems expected of him than because he’s actually paying attention.
“Perfect! I’ll be back in a minute.”
Giorno’s left standing there, a bit lost for what to do with himself, but the next shock of pain comes and fresh tears burn at the corners of his eyes, reminding him of the fact that he really doesn’t want to be in the middle of the hall, visibly crying for all to see. There’s a logical part of him that knows he wouldn’t be judged for it, but there’s a much louder part that reminds him that crying has never gotten him anywhere in life other than alone and miserable.
He turns the knob on his door and pushes it open after the agony subsides enough to allow him to move again. The first thing he does upon entering his room is seek out the pill bottle from earlier. A few minutes won’t make a difference, and he’s rapidly approaching the end of his rope. He can’t handle the pain on top of everything else.
Changing is a whole other problem. One that he hadn’t thought of as a problem until he’s standing there with his sleep clothes in hand and staring down at himself, realizing he’ll have to undress in order to redress (and is it really worth the effort? Worth seeing himself and his hips and his chest and--).
He peels out of his suit despite himself. He doesn’t want Mista to come back and push the subject. Then there’s the risk that Mista might not leave, which means Giorno will have to deal with an audience on top of having to suffer through his own self-hatred.
The binder stays on. Regardless of how uncomfortable and hot and painful he already is. He can’t handle the idea of taking it off right now, so he suffers for the little bit of mental peace that it brings him. The flattened chest makes up for the curve of his hips, though he finds himself flattening his hands over his waist anyway. Unable to stop himself from picking at every flaw when he’s already hormonal and all around having one of the worst days he’s had in awhile.
The knock at his door startles him into action, and he finishes getting dressed with a quick, “Hold on!”
A moment later has him opening the door to Mista’s grinning face.
“Found it,” Mista says as he holds up the box with a product image on it. Giorno doesn’t get a chance to observe more than the fact that it’s maroon before Mista drops it back down to his side and nods toward Giorno’s room.
Giorno steps out of the way to allow his (technically uninvited) guest in. Mista’s rambling on about something. Giorno isn’t sure what, though he catches ‘Bucciarati’ and ‘Trish’ in there somewhere, and there’s something about Abbacchio being unhelpful and half a dozen other things that fall on deaf ears.
“Oh, and you got changed, good,” Mista finishes with another one of his goofy smiles. The corners of his eyes pull oddly, giving away something else that he’s trying to hide under all the babbling and warmth. Worry persists, despite knowing the truth. Giorno can’t understand why. Cramps aren’t that big of a deal; even if he’s made them out to be in his own head.
“Yeah, it’s helping a little, thanks,” Giorno says when Mista looks at him with some sort of expectation in his eyes. Giorno’s usually better at reading people than this, but he feels like he’s moving in water. Too slow and with too much drag. He can’t keep up with the world around him, and it’s all overwhelming pressure and not enough time. Time to process, time to breathe. He loops back around to the fact that he came out to someone on the Team no more than ten minutes ago, yet Mista is unflinching and unconcerned. He hasn’t brought it back up, since he learned about it, in fact. Hell, he’s acting like all of this is completely normal, despite Giorno being almost completely certain that Mista is cis.
“Earth to Giorno,” Mista calls, voice soft with that same worry now seeping into his tone.
“Sorry,” Giorno says quickly, “I was--”
“Off in lala land?”
“Something like that,” though he thinks that sounds substantially more pleasant than all the thoughts racing through his mind.
Mista watches him for a long, uncomfortable moment. It’s times like these where Giorno gets reminded of just how much Mista likes to play dumb, when he’s anything but. He might not have the book smarts that Fugo has, but Mista is brilliant in so many other ways. Ways that are working against Giorno right now.
“You know, if you want to talk about it…”
“I-” Giorno cuts off and groans. He quickly takes a seat on the edge of his bed and sticks his head down between his knees, folding himself in half in an attempt to apply enough pressure to alleviate some of the pain.
“Oh, shit, here,” Mista moves to find an outlet and digs out the heating pad from its box. He hooks it up quickly and hands it to Giorno. The fabric of its exterior is surprisingly soft in Giorno’s hands, and he’s quick to tuck it between his abdomen and his thighs.
“Thank you,” he breathes out after several seconds pass and heat finally starts to spread across the pad.
“No problem,” Mista says quietly. More subdued than he typically is. He moves to sit on the bed beside Giorno and places a hesitant hand on his back, where he rubs gentle circles until he can feel some of the tension ease out of his Don’s muscles.
It’s quiet for a long while. Giorno basks in the relief the pad and pain killers offer. It’s the first time in over an hour that he’s been able to simply breathe through the worst of the cramps each time they hit. Though his chest continues to ache, the change is nonetheless a welcomed one. The sensation of heat spreading across his abdomen is enough of a distraction to keep him out of his own head. For a short while, at least.
“Earlier, you said something about Bucciarati,” Giorno starts, nervous and unsure of how to broach the topic.
“Oh yeah, Bucci used to get cramps real bad, too,” Mista says without hesitation. Without any hint whatsoever that he finds what he’s said to be unusual.
“Is he--?”
“Oh, shit,” Mista’s hand stills on his back, and Giorno gnaws suddenly at his lip, afraid he’s somehow messed with something he shouldn’t have. “Uh, technically that’s probably not my place to say? But he’s not exactly hiding it, Gio. He’s got scars and everything.”
Scars? Oh.
Oh.
Giorno feels his face flush, this time out of a different sort of embarrassment. Sure, he had seen the scars before, but they were light. Old and well healed, probably through the help of Sticky Fingers, and it’s not as though Bucciarati isn’t covered in dozens of others. Most of them silver from age, but there all the same. It had never once occurred to Giorno that the two on his chest, which peek out just a bit underneath the classic lingerie that Bucciarati always wears, are anything purposeful.
“I didn’t realize,” Giorno admits after a moment, when that little fact is probably very obvious and unnecessarily verbalized, but he doesn’t know what else to say to fill the silence. His own head is much louder. Full of racing thoughts and flashes of memories.
“Maybe you should talk to him about it sometime?” Particularly in moments like these; Mista spares his emotions by keeping that part to himself, but Giorno’s thinking it all the same.
To imagine that he’s been doing all of this in silence since meeting Bucciarati and his Team. To think that he could be so dense as to dismiss the signs that he isn’t alone. He only wishes he had realized sooner, even if he isn’t sure what it would have changed. He’s not sure he could have broached the subject then. He’s not sure he could do it now. Mista only found out because of circumstance.
Still. There’s someone just like him, and they live under the same roof. “I should,” he agrees, because he really should, hang-ups aside.
“Hey, you wanna try laying out? ‘Cause, no offense, man, but that looks super uncomfortable.” Mista asks after a beat of silence. He’s never one to let it go on for too long, and he’s rarely deterred by any uncomfortableness that might be lingering.
Giorno nods his head after a moment and slowly sits up. He moves his hands to hold the heating pad against his abdomen and breathes a small sigh of relief when the pain doesn’t immediately crowd in on him again. He carefully stretches himself out across the bed, despite how painfully aware of Mista’s presence he is. It’s weird to be laying out, so physically vulnerable, and it makes him acutely aware of all the things he wishes he could forget. (Is the outline of his binder visible? What about the shape of his hips? Does lying down like this make it that much more obvious how slight Giorno is?)
Once he’s lying back fully, he lets go of the pad, allowing it to rest on top of him on its own. The next wave of pain is far more manageable than the last several have been, and he merely winces in response.
“Those must suck, huh?”
“You have no idea.”
“I really don’t,” Mista agrees, “Though Trish and Bucci make it out to be pretty shitty, so.”
“I think I prefer being stabbed.”
Mista winces at the thought, “For what it’s worth, I’d rather you weren’t.”
Giorno lets out a startled laugh, but he gets Mista’s point. He kind of wishes his bodyguard weren’t so prone to being shot with multiple bullets on a regular basis. Unfortunately for both of them, they can’t always get what they want.
The quiet that settles over them this time is much more peaceful. Giorno closes his eyes and relaxes into the mattress. It’s the best he’s felt all day. Physically, anyway. There’s plenty for him to work through otherwise, but he doesn’t want to think about that right now. Instead, he focuses on the lessening cramps until they’ve all but died off entirely. Exhaustion takes hold of him then. It’s still far too early in the day to sleep, but a nap is beginning to sound like a good idea.
Before he can think about drifting off fully, he cracks his eyes open to peek at Mista, “Thank you.”
Mista beams at him from where he’s gone and laid out next to Giorno, “Anytime, GioGio. Anytime.”
#giomis#misgio#giorno giovanna#guido mista#jjba#vento aureo#team bucci#jean pierre polnareff#bruno bucciarati#bruno buccellati#jjba part 5#part 5#golden wind#blitzwrites#blitz
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Subliminal in Scrubs | V1; report iv
pairings: dr. jeon jungkook x female reader
chapter rating: NC-17 | genre: humor, romance
warnings: swearing
word count: 2.5k
g/n: Send me your thoughts?
[taglist] @nottodayjjk @ditttiii @zeharilisharaban @btsbunny07 @turquoiseandplaidinautumn @aamxxrii @codeinebelle
Subliminal in Scrubs (the records) | navi. | m.list
Your phone blares at exactly 6:45AM, and a memetastic image of Chohee lights up your phone screen as you’re brushing your teeth. When you swipe to answer the call, you don’t even manage to get a word in when Chohee chatters you out of your sleep-deprived soul.
“Just as practiced, I’m punctual, and you’re late.”
Garbling out a reply about how it’s still five minutes prior to your agreed time, you tap your toothbrush loudly against the sink, likewise spitting out the foam from your mouth. “Fine, just hurry because I’m starving!”
Being the gold-hearted person that she is (although that fact is not known to the public), your best friend had offered you a ride to the building where you’re scheduled to take the Korean Medical Licensure Examination today.
The moment you settle yourself on the passenger seat, she greets you with a cheery “Good morning!” - one that was too cheery this early in the morning, and all the more way too cheery for a certain Kim Chohee. The two of you share a look and you lean in for a hug. “Hey, we’ll do just fine, okay? We’ve been studying our asses for this.”
You don’t let go at once, looking up at her with a kissy face. She pushes your head backwards with a disgusted expression, keeping your face at an arm’s length. With an unattractive snort, you lean back in your seat, laughing your ass off at your poor attempt to lighten the mood.
“Seriously, _______, I know you’ve been lusting after me for years even when you’re well aware of my ‘strictly beef’ diet,” Chohee states, dusting your imaginary germs off her shoulder. Turning on her Benz’s engine, she checks her reflection on the rear-view mirror before driving off.
With both your hands occupied with the sandwiches you’d ordered from Subway, you use your pinky to connect your phone to play some Mozart via bluetooth. You try not to talk much about the test, knowing it will only cause unnecessary anxiety on both your ends.
As Chohee leans towards you, you tilt her sandwich in her direction, letting her take a bite from her sub. “Hey, what’s an abscess again?”
“Isn’t that more commonly known as boils? Built up pus within or below the surface of the skin?”
Kim Chohee chokes on her BLT.
“Pus?” she repeats, swallowing her bite with great strain. “Seriously? While I’m eating a sandwich? Couldn’t you be more subtle perhaps?”
Equally just as surprised as she was, you narrow your eyes at her. “We’ve been studying medicine for the last six years! It shouldn’t be a surprise by now...and besides, we’ve heard and see a lot worse too...Would you rather have me say purulent exudate then? And waste my precious saliva on a six-syllable word rather than the common term for a liquid form of inflamm-”
“Okay!” Chohee throws an arm up in defeat. “Sheesh _______! Don’t I deserve at least some gratitude for driving you to our exams?”
“Plus we’ve already seen a cadaver too, which was supposedly one of the peaks of our med-student lives! What’s all this hype about some viscous mass on the surface of the skin?”
Your best friend peeks at you from her peripheral vision, absolutely mortified. You love it.
“Can you please remind me how we became friends in the first place?” Chohee shakes her head and increases the volume of the player as the droplets of rain start pouring down the windshield. “Anyways – I was meaning to ask the histological meaning of it.”
“Oh, right,” you nod, recalling your notes, “well, it’s a localized collection of neutrophils and necrotic debris. Basically, it’s a suppurative inflammation which is associated with pyogenic bacteria and characterized by edema fluid admixed with neutrophils and necrotic cells. Staphylococcus aureus usually produces abscesses because it’s coagulase positive and coagulase helps the production of fibrinous material that localizes the infection.”
As soon as you finish, silence takes over the car, and suddenly, a sniffle comes from Chohee’s side. With a matching frown, you best friend looks at you with shiny eyes. “Oh _______, what would I do without you?”
With still half an hour to spare, you decide on relieving your bladder first before all the toilets get occupied later a couple of minutes before the actual exam. You take your time with it, even managing to put some effort in fixing your hair in clipping your fringe back so as not to eliminate all distractions possible during the exam.
While looking through the large panel windows on your way back from the comfort rooms, you spot a familiar face – the last person you’d want to see on such an important day. Perhaps your prayers weren’t loud enough to actually reach heaven.
There Jeon Jungkook was at the end of the hall, walking like a newly-canonized saint in all his glory. Most (if not all) of the female onlookers stare at him as he passes by, with Jungkook seemingly unbothered by their unwavering attention. You aren’t one for exaggeration, but these women look like they’re willing to worship the ground he walked on.
Your nerdy, anti-Jeon Jungkook ass quickly hides beside a nearby locker, not wanting to be ‘graced’ by his presence, just as some girl coined a few moments ago as she headed to the toilets with her friends, collectively gushing over the boy.
The popular kid turns to his right and you swore you’d never prayed harder and faster than any other time in your life. Your room assignment was just the one by the corner...and if he could just make a few more steps and head straight to the next classroom a-and...nope. It’s official. The universe loved shitting on you.
Jungkook enters room 132, the very same numbers indicating your room assignment for the licensure exam. You ball up your fists in your spot by the lockers, releasing all your pent-up frustration in the simplest and least violent way possible: a long, tedious exhale.
Gathering up all your self-control, you re-enter the classroom with an inward grimace, desperate to not have Jungkook’s eyes meet yours. He’s looking for a seat, and with all the back rows already occupied, he’s stuck with picking one from the first two rows.
He’s already stood near the seat you’ve picked and you bore holes into the back of his head with your fake telepathy, silently ordering him to pick a chair on the other side of the aisle instead.
Just as you had not wished for, Jungkook plops his huge ass backpack on the chair next to yours. You tread back to your seat as discreetly as possible, avoiding his gaze at all times as he rummages through his military backpack. What the fuck is in that thing in the first place? You won't be surprised if he manages to pull out a whole microwave inside – and yet funnily enough, he can’t seem to own a single damn pencil.
As you were minding your own businesses (hopefully it stays that way for the rest of eternity), you catch the other students discussing surgical cases last minute.
“Hey, which artery is the one for transection for an epidural hematoma?”
“Was this the kid that got hit by a fastball in the head?”
“What happened?”
“Poor boy got hit in the temporal area during a baseball tournament. Remained conscious during the rest of the day but during the same evening he gets a severe headache with vomiting and confusion. When they got to Severance he got scheduled for immediate surgery for epidural hematoma.”
“That sounds awful…”
“I’m not sure which artery it was again though…”
If that were the case...then it’d be the transection of a branch of the middle meningeal artery...but then you wouldn’t want to answer that out of the blue and get mistaken for being too snoopy…
Instead, you reach for the bottle of water by the legs of your chair, likewise hearing the same answer coming out of Jungkook’s mouth in a whisper. Huh. You raise a brow. Well, there was a major chance he knew the case since he came from Yonsei too, just as you had speculated from some of your roommates who seemed like they came from the same school after mentioning Severance Hospital.
The group continue discussing their answers when this girl, who had an obnoxiously unnatural high-pitched voice, approaches Jungkook.
“Jungkook-oppa?”
Oppa? OPPA?!
You wanted to throw up. This girl looked at least two-three years older than him. At the least. Guess Jeon was really more of a fuckboy than Chohee would ever admit. “We were just discussing something and we’re really unsure of our answers, maybe a smart oppa like you would know?”
With as much discretion as you could muster, you adjust in your seat, leaning a little bit towards their conversation as you eavesdrop like the nosy person that you are.
“The surgery was a transection of the meningeal artery,” says Jeon nonchalantly like it’s the most basic thing in the world, still scrolling through his phone. Silence ensues after that. That’s it?! He’s not even going to bother explaining-
Jungkook exhales as he puts his phone down. “Epidural hemorrhages result from a rupture of one of the meningeal arteries, as these arteries supply the dura and run between the dura and the skull. Plus you said temporal area right?” he asks, facing one of the guys.
“The artery involved is usually the middle meningeal artery - a branch of the maxillary artery, as the skull fracture is usually in the temporal area. Since the bleeding is of arterial origin, symptoms are rapid in onset even though he seemed normal for a few hours. If they didn’t bring him to the hospital that same evening, he could’ve had tentorial herniation and would have eventually died.”
As much as you hate to admit it - you’re beyond impressed. Chohee always stays true to her word, but it doesn’t change the fact that he was still a jerk for clearly cutting the line at the subway.
The girls coo over him, praising him over how cool he looked by explaining his answer. Jungkook settles back on his seat like he hadn’t just perfectly given an on-point pathological explanation for a neuro case.
The group continues their review, until they’ve come to another question they’re unsure of. “Jungkook-ssi, would you know where the rupture of a berry aneurysm of the Circle of Willis would likely produce hemorrhage?”
With only ten minutes left, you’d usually be preparing yourself mentally but this group and Jungkook’s intervention has you all ears once more. Nothing wrong with some last minute review, right?
“It’s the subdural space.”
Wow. Okay, quick and close but wrong. Impressive wit though.
You open your mouth to say something but you hesitate as it dawns on you that you really aren’t part of this group and you’re not the one being asked. Jungkook not missing a beat gets a collective ‘ooh’ from the group, who’s clearly impressed at how quickly he’s answered the question.
Meanwhile, your conscience is making you contemplate on your earlier hesitation with the voice of the angel on your right shoulder telling you it isn’t right to let the wrong answer pass just like that, especially on a day like this. The devil on your left, however, tells you otherwise. You go with the former.
Amongst their murmurs of mutual praise for Jungkook (you bet this man is rejoicing inside with all the attention he’s getting, despite looking nonchalant), you take a deep breath and say the correct answer, voice coming out louder than expected.
“Excuse me?” another ‘spectator’ says, jutting her chin towards you.
“I said,” you look up at her, “it’s actually the subarachnoid space.”
“Are you sure?” she retorts.
Seriously? Just because you’re not some fuckboy jock who smolders at all boobed humans means you can’t be sure with your answer?
“Hey! I know you!” Someone exclaims from the side, causing everyone to turn their heads toward him, “You’re the foreigner valedictorian at SNU!” Similar to their earlier praises directed towards Jungkook, the same dudes marvel at your most recent accomplishment. You give a shy smile in return, quietly thanking the stranger for the sudden confidence boost.
“Jungkook-oppa is also the valedictorian at Yonsei.”
Well, that didn’t last for long...somebody has always got to rain on your parade. You won’t allow this girl though, not today.
You purse your lips, collecting your thoughts first before explaining it to them. “Subarachnoid hemorrhages, although they are much less common than hypertensive intracerebral hemorrhages, but the former are...more often than not...resultant of a rupture of a berry aneurysm.” You pause momentarily when someone drags his seat closer to yours, “Go on please.”
“Right, um...berry aneurysms are most commonly found at the Circle of Willis, usually by the junction of the communicating artery and the cerebral artery. Chances of rupture increase with age and cause marked bleeding into the subarachnoid space and produces severe headaches.” The same dude earlier blinks at you, urging you to explain further, “uh...additional symptoms may include vomiting, pain, stiffness of the neck, and papilledema. Death may follow rapidly as well.”
A few from the people gathered around your seat clap their hands, along with compliments and offers along the lines of marriage and organ swaps.
Someone mentions seeing the proctor approach the room and the group immediately disperses, everyone rushing back to their seats as quickly as possible. A middle-aged man enters, tells everyone to bring out their pencils and place their stuff by the platform, then momentarily leaves for the restroom.
Jungkook fishes through his bag, turning each pocket inside and out over and over again. There’s no way this kid actually-- “Shit, where did that pencil go?” he murmurs, going through his bag once more. Looking away, you bite your lip to stop yourself from snickering. Jeon Jungkook is definitely on a different level.
As expected, your entertaining seatmate calls you and asks for a pencil. With a deceivingly enthusiastic nod, you retrieve a pencil from your case just beside your chair. Your life after meeting Jungkook at the subway had finally led to this moment. He clears his throat and you figure it’s signaling the coming of another obnoxious comment.
“Oh, I’m sorry, this wasn’t meant for you,” you look at him with the most apologetic look you can muster. Then you look at him, down then up, just as he had done back in the library, you smile widely before winking at him, making him hand your extra pencil over to the guy sat next to him, “Thanks, babe.”
Jungkook scowls hard and you rejoice inside your head, making sure that your face doesn’t register the slightest bit of jest. His scowl however, does not last for long. “Hmm, you’re the girl from the library, right? Smart and feisty...maybe you are my type after all,” he murmurs, tongue poking his cheek. You scoff loudly, scrunching your face in disgust. “No thank you.”
“Oppa,” the girl’s shrill voice calls him one more time and you face forward to freely roll your eyes. If you aren’t mistaken, there’s even a hint of mild annoyance on Jungkook’s features. “Don’t mind her, oppa. You can have my extra pencil instead.” She tsks. “Some people just don’t know when to quit.”
At least she got something right this morning: you don’t know when to quit.
© joontier 2021
#jungkook x reader#bangtanhq#ficswithluv#btswritingcafe#bangtanarmynet#btsghostie#bts au#bts fic#jungkook au#jungkook imagine#doctors au#bts series#jeon jungkook
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Love and Medicine ~ 9
MASTERLIST
< previous chapter
Word Count: 2,720ish
Summary: You start to question Steve.
I do not own Marvel or Grey’s Anatomy.
Something at been bother you about Steve, as of late. When you two would spend the night together, it was always at your place. And you were starting to realize that he knew more about you than you did him. (Though he still didn’t know about your parents.) You sat on your bed and watched as Steve got ready for the day. He was brushing his teeth when you finally spoke up.
“Let’s sleep at your place tonight,” you said.
“What?” Steve questioned. His brow furrowed as he faced you, tooth brush still in his mouth.
“I mean, why are we always sleeping at my house? Do you even have one?”
He spit into the sink. “One what?”
“A house. Or an apartment. With a closet and your stuff in it. Your personal stuff. Do you even have on of those.”
“Mmm,” he hummed with a nod, wiping his face. “You hungry?” He gathered his things as he headed towards the door.
“Steve, do you even—“
But he was gone, leaving you on the bed, sighing. After freshening up for the day, you went down to the kitchen. Steve was sitting at the table, a bowl of cereal in front of him, with your roommates scattered around the kitchen.
“You know, I like it here,” Steve told you when he noticed you. “You sad so yourself, you like having your things around, sleeping in your own bed.”
“You’re like a health nut, aren’t you?” Clint questioned Steve as he examined his cereal. “You eat muesli every morning.”
“No,” Steve argued, mouth full, “I don’t.”
“Yes, you do,” Val said. “Well, at least for the last seven days.”
“Oh, come on. I haven’t been here for a whole week… have I?”
“Sadly, you have,” Scott said.
“See?” You pointed to your roommates. “Even they think it’s weird.”
~~~
Eventually, your work day started and you were going through the motions of everything. Steve met up with you as you walked through the halls. And you couldn’t help but continue what you were talking about this morning.
“It’s just that I hardly know anything about you,” you said.
“You know that I just moved here. You know that I like ferry boats.”
“Yes, but where exactly did you move here from? And what about your friends? Or family? Do you have any?”
“I’m a surgeon. I don’t have friends. And I don’t have family anymore either.”
“See, I didn’t know that. And everybody has friends. What do you do on your days off? These are all important questions.”
“Ah, important for who?”
“Me. We’re having sex every night. I think I deserve details.”
“You have more details than most,” he smirked.
“See, this is going somewhere weird. I want facts, and until I get them, my pants are staying on.”
“Or you could just roll with it. Be flexible. See what happens.”
“I’m not flexible.”
Steve laughed. “There is where I disagree.” He winked, before getting paged. He looked down at it. “I've got to go. We'll find these things out.” He slowly started walking away. “That's the fun part. You know? That's the gravy.”
“That is what I'm talking about. I don't want to be your gravy.”
“Gravy?” Tony questioned, walking up from behind. “What about gravy? And why are you two flirting in public?”
“We weren’t flirting. We were—“
“Flirting. Stop lying to me and yourself.”
“I’m not lying.”
“Mhmm. I know lying, and flirting, when I see it. And you, my dear, are doing both.”
“Shut up.”
~~~
An equally fortunate and unfortunate thing, you were assigned to Steve’s service today. You were currently looking at a patient’s scans. The patient was slowly becoming paralyzed, and you were trying to figure out why.
“See, this,” you pointed to the scans. “The guy's films are clear. There's no reason I can see for his creeping paralysis.”
“It's just so surprising,” Steve responded, still studying the scans. “I expected an intrusion into the spinal space or bony spur in the nucleus pulposus.”
“Well, you were wrong. You don't always get what you expect, do you?”
With furrowed brows, he turned to face you. “What is your problem?”
“Give me something to go on. Anything. What are your grandparents' names?”
“I don't have grandparents.”
“Where'd you grow up? What's your favorite flavor of ice cream? Where'd you spend your summer vacations?”
“Lighten up. It'll be good for your blood pressure.”
Steve walked out of the room. You followed him, but stopped at the doorway.
“Oh, don’t you tell me to lighten up!” You called after him. “I’ll lighten up when I… feel light.” You huffed and shook your head. “That man.”
~~~
Steve was speaking to your patient, Mr. Wells, and his wife when you went to check on Mr. Wells.
“Any changes, Mr. Wells?” Steve wondered.
“I can’t move my legs at all now,” Mr. Wells replied.
“He said he was moving his legs when he came in,” Mrs. Wells said. “What’s wrong with him?”
“Have you been under any stress lately, Mr. Wells?” You questioned.
“You know what’s making me stressed? Is being in here and not being able to move,” he responded.
“Dr. L/N,” Steve called, waiting you to clarify.
“Emotional trauma can be converted into something physical, right?” You asked.
“Yes, it’s possible.”
“Like hysterical numbness or paralysis. Maybe there is no physiological reason, and he's just having a conversion reaction.”
“You think it's psychosomatic?”
The curtain behind you and Steve flew open, revealing another patient and Val.
“It’s not in your head, man,” the patient said. “I believe you.”
“Mr. Duff, please,” Val said, closing the curtain.
“Who was that?” Steve asked.
“Psych sent him down,” you explained, having heard Val complain earlier. “He has visions.”
“Is that it?” Mr. Wells wondered. “Am I cray?”
“No. No,” Steve quickly said. “I'm gonna order a higher-level MRI. We're gonna figure this out.”
~~~
At lunch time, Peter, Natasha, Scott, Clint, Val, and yourself found a small room to eat in, away from everyone else. Natasha was sitting down at a desk. She lifted up her sandwich, smelling it, before quickly dropping it.
“If that’s turkey, can I have some?” Clint asked.
“It’s soggy,” Natasha responded.
“If it’ll kill you,” Peter commented. “Solve everything.”
“I coulda gotten that intubation,” Clint murmured. “I am good at intubations.”
You took a bite of your food, cringing at the smell. “Why does everything in a hospital smell like a hospital?” You questioned.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Clint,” Scott said. “Everybody makes mistakes.”
“You know, I’m good at a lot of things,” Clint continued.
“You know what, I'm gonna tell you something,” Natasha began, “Hey, Clint. You need to get laid. See that nurse over there.” Natasha pointed to the nurse at the station out the window. “She’s single. She's got brown hair. Go ask her out.”
“In case you forgot, I intubated an esophagus.”
“Dude, you're tweaking,” Peter said. “Maybe you should go see that psychic.”
“Mr. Duff is not a psychic!” Val exclaimed as Peter left the room.
“I am trying to help you,” Natasha told Clint, standing up. “Go buy her a latte and freshen up your gonads, please.” Then she left.
“What’s with her?” Val asked, looking at you for an answer.
You shrugged. “Don’t ask me.”
~~~
After lunch, you headed back to check on Mr. Wells. Steve was already in there again, looking extremely concerned.
“First my legs, then my stomach,” Mr. Wells complained before looking scared. “Doc! Doc, my hands can’t move.”
“Squeeze my fingers,” Steve ordered, placing his fingers in Mr. Wells’ hand.
“I can’t.”
“Right here.” Steve tried the other hand. “No? Let me know if you feel this.” He poked the patient with a needle. “How about that?”
“No,” Mr. Wells responded.
Steve tried several different places before giving up. “Alright. I’ll be right back.” He headed to the nurses station, motioning for you to follow him. “Nurse, cancel the second MRI. Call down and prep an OR stat.”
“You’re operating?” You questioned. “On what? If there was something to fix, wouldn't we have seen it?”
“I think the MRI missed a clot somewhere in his upper spine. I'm gonna cut him open. I'm going in.”
“What if you're wrong? Couldn't unnecessary spinal surgery do more damage?”
“If we wait any longer and this expands into his brain stem, we have a paralyzed man who can't breathe. I'm trusting my instincts. Sometimes you've got to take a chance to save a life.”
~~~
The OR was stressful, even before Steve cut Mr. Wells open.
“We've got to save this cord,” Steve stated, grabbing a scalpel. “This guy's built like the Rock of Gibraltar.”
“You want me to start?” You wondered.
“No, I'm gonna to cut here from the base of the neck to the rib cage.” Steve pointed, showing you exactly what he meant. “I want you to hit the bleeders.”
“I still don't think we should be doing this,” you expressed your concerns as Steve cut open. You immediately started going for the bleeders.
“This guy has a spinal hematoma.”
“We don't know that.”
“Which left untreated are almost always fatal.”
“You're cutting blind. Whatever happened to being practical?”
“I need to see more here. Retractor.” A nurse handed Steve a retractor.
“Wow,” you gasped, staring at Mr. Wells’ spine.
“There’s no ‘wow’ in practical’.” You could practically hear Steve’s smirk.
After everything was clear, you and Steve began looking at the spine closely.
“Third thoracic laminae. Nothing,” you said. “I think I see the dura pulsating here.”
“No, it's not,” Steve responded. “Keep looking.”
“We have been at this for four hours. Maybe he just injured his spinal cord and there's nothing to fix.”
“L/N, when you read your books, make sure you reference them correctly. Progressive paralysis implies a pressure lesion.”
“My books got me here—“ You were interrupted by the monitors beeping.
“Pressure’s up to 180/111,” a nurse informed. “The pulse is in the 40s.”
“What is it?”
“I’m pushing 70 milligrams diazoxide.”
“Okay. Autonomic dysreflexia,” Steve said.
“Damage to the sympathetic nervous system?” You asked.
“BP and the heart rate are unstable.”
“We’re in trouble, aren’t we?”
“We’ve got to find the clot.”
“I can see the cord below the dura. Is he gonna stroke out?”
“Focus, L/N. We're gonna find the clot. It's there. Clean up, please.”
“BP's still up,” the nurse reminded. “Heart rate's at 44.”
“Get on those bleeders,” Steve ordered. “Keep looking, Dr. L/N.”
After a few long minutes later, Steve let out a happy sigh.
“What is it?” You asked.
“See for yourself,” he replied, moving his hand. “The second thoracic vertebrae.”
You leaned in, seeing the clot clearly. “Oh, my gosh. I see it. It’s really there.”
“Of course it is. Let's suction and pack this baby, shall we?”
The rest of the surgery was finished quickly and without any more problems. Soon, you and Steve were in the scrub room outside the OR.
“You were right,” you admitted. “Is he gonna be okay?”
“I think so,” Steve responded.
“But you don’t know that.”
“I know we stopped the paralysis from advancing.”
“But, you don't know if the paralysis he already has will be permanent.”
“No.”
“You know, you keep taking everything on faith. How do you know what's real and what's not?”
“You just do. You know some people would call this a relationship. The kind where you exchange keys, leave your toothbrush over.”
“Who? Who would call it that?”
“Me. I would.”
“And I’m supposed to believe you?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Then show me something. Give me a reason to believe.”
With a small, teasing smile, Steve left the room.
~~~
Your group of interns had once again found yourselves in the deserted hallway.
“I tried to talk Rogers out of that clot surgery,” you said quietly. “What is wrong with me?”
“So, basically, you tried to kill the guy,” Peter stated.
“Basically, you’re an ass,” Natasha retorted.
“Come on. You know you want it.”
Clint came walking in. “This, uh, is Clint,” he said, pointing to his name tag. “And Clint has a hot date.”
“Oh, that’s great, Clint,” you responded with a smile.
“Yeah.”
“Left pocket of my lab coat, Clint,” Peter said, going to leave. “No glove, no love.”
Clint grabbed Peter’s arm before he could fully leave. He took a condom from his pocket.
“My psychic had his surgery,” Val stated.
“Yeah?” Clint wondered.
“I wonder what happened with his… gift.”
“Come on,” Natasha scoffed. “We all know he’s crazy.”
“Thought you said you didn’t believe in that stuff,” you added.
"I grew up in a trailer park,” Val explained. “I waited tables, which was supposed to put me through college, but my mother was always calling these psychics all the time. And the bills started piling up, so I had to use my money to pay them. When I turned 18, I left and never went back. But this guy has been saying things to me, things he couldn't possibly know anything about. So I just wonder.”
~~~
“Do you have sensation anywhere else?” You asked Mr. Wells as you examined him.
“Some feeling in my stomach and feet, I guess,” he responded.
“Bladder and bowels?”
“Not so good still.”
“He said the pressure stockings help relieve clots and bed sores?” Mrs. Wells wondered.
“They do,” you agreed.
“I wanted to thank you for everything,” Mr. Wells said. “Believing in me, that I wasn't making it up.”
“Well, I'll come back tomorrow, then.”
“Hey, I wanted to show you something. I wasn't sure it would last but now look.” He barely moved one of his fingers. “I know it's hardly anything, but…”
“No, it’s something,” you smiled. “It's something really big. I’ll make sure Dr. Rogers knows and I’ll see you both in the morning.”
~~~
Steve met you in the lobby and led you to his car. He opened the door for you before hurrying over to the other side, getting in, and starting the car. Driving, you quickly noticed that Steve wasn’t taking you to your house.
“Where are we going?” You asked.
“Trust me,” he replied, glancing at you.
You bit your lip and nodded, turning to look out the window as the city flew by. Before you knew it, you guys had crossed into New Jersey and heading into the more suburban area of it. Steve stopped in front of a piece of land with no house on it. The whole piece of empty land had to be at least 20 acres, with groups of trees scattered around it. Helping you out of the car, Steve began leading you towards the trees.
“Are you going to murder me and bury my body here?” You asked.
“No,” Steve chuckled. “Of course not.”
“Where are we?”
“Shh, shh. I’m going to tell you.”
Steve led you around the corner, revealing an airstream trailer with a small porch. It was almost magical, sitting in the midst of all those trees.
“Alright,” Steve breathed out, nervously.
He let go of your hand and moved to sit on the edge of the porch. You stayed where you were at, taking everything in.
“My mother’s name was Sarah, my dad’s was Joseph,” Steve stated. “They both died before I graduated high school. I don’t have any siblings. I like Neapolitan ice cream and just a plain beer. I like to work out and I’ve recently started fly fishing. I also cheat when I do the crossword puzzle on Sundays. I never dance in public, even at dances. But only cause I don’t know how. My favorite type of music from the early decades of the 1900’s. My favorite color is blue, like from the American flag. And I live in this trailer. All this land is mine. I have no idea what I’m gonna do with it. So… well, that’s it. That’s all you’ve earned for now. The rest you’re just… just gonna have to take on faith.”
Not revealing an emotions, you walked to the trailer, studying it. Steve stood up, carefully watching you. Walking towards the door, you turned back around with a small smile and reached your hand out to him.
“Show me how this faith thing works,” you whispered. “Please.”
next chapter >
Sorry if it’s all over the place. I owed it to you guys to get this out there.
NOTES: from now on the taglist when be added by a reblog. I will reblog it using my second account, @just-dreaming-marvel-2. Just so that my main page doesn’t get too cluttered.
If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.
#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers imagine#steve rodgers x reader#steve rodgers imagine#the avengers x reader#avengers x reader#marvel x reader#marvel imagine#marvel imagines#Steve Rogers#greys anatomy au
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The whole god-complex accusation pisses me off because it completely ignores the context of the situation. When Gojo made that statement, he was CLEARLY in an altered state of mind. He just came back from the dead, more or less, likely had to reconstruct part of his brain cause Toji stabbed him in the face, and tapped into depths of power he likely never thought possible. And all of this happened when he was about 15 or so at MOST. So, yeah, the kid was allowed to go a little loopy in that context.
If he had a god complex, he would probably say something arrogant upon Toji's death like 'I will not be denied' or 'I am the strongest' or whatever. Instead, he quietly asks for last words and fulfills that request when the time comes.
Gojo is arrogant, yeah, but god complex? Nope. The timeskip in that arc shows him lamenting just how little power he actually has. (I'm strong but its not enough. I can only save those who are willing to be saved')
Hi! Thanks for sending this because I wholeheartedly agree!
Manga spoilers below the cut.
Yeah, same. I hate it with a passion. I can accept if people say "he's close to a God complex".
I'll definitely agree when people say "Gojo is the closest thing to a God in their verse", because it's true but it's the God complex thing that throws me off entirely because, as you said, it's out of context.
They're basing it on that ONE panel where he says he's the Honored One. Three panels if you count him saying he's the strongest and how he'd win against Sukuna.
He was a teenager at that point & teenage minds are still pretty feeble, especially if you consider his circumstances. And then being stabbed in the forehead?
Consider this as well:
Toji was at least 25 or something, at that point. The man has been married. In order to marry without parental consent, you have to be 20. Then add like 5 years, because of Megumi, on top of those 20 years of life. So it's safe to say he's someone with a more developed, adult, mind, unlike teenage Gojo, and he really said "Is this man high?" to Gojo... who he has fought before, so he does know a little bit about the personality of his opponent.
Toji stabbed Gojo in the forehead and very clearly penetrated it, so it's safe to assume that the man put immense force into that stab. Imagine taking a hit with that force if Toji had only used his palm or something. Gojo must have had at least a concussion. But considering it was a penetrating stab that broke through his cranium and probably dura mater as well, so part of his brain was definitely injured (key word: penetrating head injury).
Just looked it up and found the case of Phineas Gage who survived having a tamping iron driven through his skull, yet "came back as another person" aka change in personality.
So yes, Gojo definitely was delirious and not in the right state of mind.
I'm gonna go a little bit extreme here, to contrast your softer version of what he would have said in that case, but if he had a God complex, he would have stomped on Toji's dead body and asked something like "You dare to challenge me?".
Gojo deals with too much he cannot handle at once in that fight and it shows afterwards when he carries Riko's corpse and asks Geto (and I'd like to believe he does it in a pretty calm and maybe even lower voice than usual), "Do you want to kill them all? Right now, I probably won't even feel anything."
In that moment he realizes that, despite being deemed the strongest, he's so powerless that he - no, the strongest duo (two people) - can't even protect one individual's life. Protecting the world? That would take more, hence why he focuses on training afterwards, to rightfully become the strongest.
Arrogant, conceited, anything; that's what describes Gojo well, in my opinion. A God would be able to change the world with a snap of his fingers but Gojo is only human. As I said, the closest thing to a God in that verse.
Where are the "God complex"-ionists when talking about Sukuna? Geto? But Geto is a post for another day.
Why do they only discuss Gojo?
I could probably write a longer reply but I think this will do for now.
Thank you for coming to my TED talk.
#nie answers#knightofacherus#musings#jujutsu kaisen manga spoilers#manga spoilers#jjk manga spoilers#gojo satoru#gojou satoru#hidden inventory
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